#i could at least pretend to ignore whatever the us was doing

[solxamber]

Choose Us!

In which you have to decide on a dorm to become part of.

Part 2: You choose the dorm

"You're serious?" you blink at Crowley, half-expecting Grim to wake you up from this fever dream. "I can move into any dorm?"

Crowley clasps his hands together with a benevolent smile that doesn't quite match his usual dramatic flair. "Indeed, my dear prefect! It's the least I can do to ensure your safety and comfort!"

Grim looks up from where he���s gnawing on a suspiciously burnt sofa leg. "Wait, what about me?!"

"You’ll go where the prefect goes, naturally," Crowley waves off Grim’s protests. "Now, chop-chop! Let me know your decision by the end of the day."

And just like that, he floats out of Ramshackle, leaving you standing in the middle of the chaos.

Heartslabyul

The second you hit send in the group chat, you regret everything. Ace and Deuce don’t even wait for you to explain. Within minutes, they’re barging into Ramshackle like the Kool-Aid Man.

“Heartslabyul!” Ace yells, grabbing one of your arms.

“Obviously Heartslabyul!” Deuce hollers, seizing the other.

“I haven’t even decided—”

“Blasphemy!” Ace gasps, as if you’d just insulted his mother. “We’re your best friends, how could you even think about choosing another dorm?”

Deuce nods fervently, dragging you toward the door. “Heartslabyul’s clean! Organized! You’d thrive there!”

"And the desserts!" Ace adds. "Think of the desserts!"

Before you know it, you're shoved into Heartslabyul’s rose garden, where Riddle is waiting with the most extravagant tea party setup you’ve ever seen. There’s a towering cake, delicate pastries, and enough tea to drown Grim.

“I thought you might need proper refreshments while considering your options,” Riddle says, adjusting his posture like he isn’t secretly trying to sway you. “Of course, I have no preference where you go. I’m merely concerned for your well-being.”

Trey hands you a plate with the biggest, most immaculate slice of cake you’ve ever seen. “You’d fit right in here, you know,” he says kindly. “We’re all about structure and care… and good desserts.”

"Plus," Cater slides in with a grin, “imagine all the cool pics we could take together! #DormGoals, am I right? You and me chilling in Heartslabyul, like, all the time?”

Riddle clears his throat loudly. “This isn’t about favoritism, mind you. But if you were to choose Heartslabyul, you’d be part of a dorm that values discipline and respect for the rules.”

Ace nudges you with a smirk. “Ignore him. Just think of all the times I’ll sneak you extra tarts.”

You glance around at the hopeful stares. Grim’s already halfway into a tart he snatched off the table. “I feel like I’m being ambushed.”

“Oh, you are,” Ace says shamelessly.

Savanaclaw

You stumble out of the Heartslabyul tea party, feeling like you’ve consumed enough sugar to fuel a small country. Before you can even catch your breath, a shadow looms over you, and suddenly, you're hoisted into the air like a sack of potatoes.

“What the—JACK?!” you squawk, flailing as he throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

“You’re coming with me,” Jack grunts, completely unfazed by your protests. “You need to see why Savanaclaw is the best dorm for you.”

“I can walk, you know!” you huff, punching his back.

He ignores you. “Not fast enough.”

By the time he sets you down, you’re in the middle of Savanaclaw’s common area, where Ruggie is lounging on one of the couches, counting a suspiciously thick wad of cash. Leona’s sprawled out nearby, pretending to nap, though his ears twitch at the sound of your arrival.

Ruggie grins as soon as he spots you. “Ah, perfect timing! I was just telling Leona how we could totally use someone like you here. Right, boss?”

Leona cracks one eye open and yawns, his tone dripping with disinterest. “Tch. Don’t care. They can do whatever they want.”

“That’s funny,” Ruggie says, nudging Leona hard enough to make him growl, “’cause I distinctly remember you saying—and I quote—‘If they don’t pick Savanaclaw, everyone else can rot.’”

Leona sits up, glaring daggers at Ruggie. “I said no such thing.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Ruggie snickers before turning back to you, his grin as wide as a hyena’s. “Anyway, check this out. Leona generously donated some funds to help you... you know, see the light.”

He shoves the wad of cash into your hands. You blink at it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Whatever you want! Snacks, clothes, bribes for your annoying friends in Heartslabyul…”

Leona groans and drags a hand down his face. “You’re making us look desperate.”

“We? Speak for yourself, Your Highness.” Ruggie winks at you. “He’s just mad ‘cause he doesn’t know how to be subtle.”

Leona slouches further into his seat, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Look, Herbivore, if you wanna be around people who won’t coddle you, Savanaclaw’s where it’s at. We don’t do tea parties here—”

“Obviously,” you mutter, thinking about the claw marks on the furniture.

“—but we’ll actually challenge you to grow stronger. You can’t get that in the other dorms.”

Jack nods. “He’s right. And we’ve got the best training facilities on campus.”

Ruggie waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, training’s cool and all, but let’s focus on what really matters. Free snacks. Awesome vibes. Me.”

Leona rolls his eyes. “You’re going to scare them off.”

You cross your arms, trying to ignore the way Leona’s ears flick every time you shift your weight. “So… are you guys going to bribe me with anything besides money and vibes?”

Leona smirks. “What, isn’t my dazzling personality enough?”

Ruggie snorts. “Oh, sure. That’s totally why people flock to you.”

You can’t help but laugh, and Leona’s eyes soften just a little, though he quickly turns his head like he doesn’t care.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, handing the wad of cash back to Ruggie, who immediately starts recounting it like you’ve stolen some.

“Better think fast,” Leona mutters, though there’s the faintest curve of a smile on his lips.

Octavinelle

As you trudge back to Ramshackle, your brain still processing Savanaclaw’s “recruitment tactics,” a pair of arms suddenly wrap around you, lifting you clean off the ground.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd crows, spinning you around like you’re a prize he just won at a carnival.

“FLOYD! Put me down!” you shout, flailing uselessly in his grip.

“Nah, I got orders,” he says, grinning ear to ear as he hauls you off toward the Mostro Lounge.

By the time you’re unceremoniously deposited (read: still stuck in Floyd’s arms like a glorified teddy bear), you’re face-to-face with Azul and Jade, both of whom look way too pleased with themselves.

“Ah, perfect timing!” Azul says, standing up from his chair with his signature business smile. “We’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Have a seat!”

“I would if Floyd let me down,” you deadpan, glaring at the tall eel holding you like a sack of seaweed.

“Nah, you’re comfy,” Floyd chirps, tightening his grip as if daring you to try escaping.

Azul clears his throat, pulling out a scroll of parchment that looks suspiciously like a contract. “Ahem. Now, as I was saying—let’s discuss the many benefits of joining Octavinelle. For starters, we pride ourselves on being a dorm of intellect and resourcefulness. Here, you’ll have access to unmatched networking opportunities, a plethora of unique beverages crafted by Jade himself, and—should you agree—my personal mentorship in matters of… negotiation.”

He flashes you a grin that screams, This is totally not suspicious at all.

Jade slides a glass of something shimmering and iridescent across the table toward you. “I would be delighted to name you our official taste tester. Imagine the prestige of being the first to try all my… experimental creations.”

You eye the drink like it might explode. “Define ‘experimental.’”

Jade smiles serenely. “You’ll find out.”

“Don’t be shy, Shrimpy!” Floyd chimes in, shifting you in his arms so you’re now sitting sideways like some sort of royal guest. “You’d have so much fun here. We’ve got good food, good drinks, and me.”

Azul adjusts his glasses, sliding the contract closer to you. “And, of course, we’ve prepared a special position for you. All you have to do is sign right here, and Octavinelle will officially welcome you as our newest member.”

You glance at the contract, then at the three of them—Azul’s scheming smile, Jade’s unsettling calmness, and Floyd’s unnervingly enthusiastic grin.

“I feel like this is a trap,” you say.

“It’s not a trap,” Floyd says immediately, which makes you even more suspicious.

Azul leans forward, steepling his fingers. “I assure you, everything is perfectly legitimate. Now, shall we seal the deal?”

“Or,” you say, leaning back as far as Floyd’s grip will allow, “I could not.”

Jade hums thoughtfully, handing you another drink. “At least try the beverages before you decide.”

Azul smirks. “I’m sure a sip or two will convince you.”

You glance at the drink, then back at Azul. “Is this bribery?”

“It’s persuasion,” he corrects smoothly.

“Same thing.”

Floyd suddenly squeezes you tight, grinning down at you. “C’mon, Shrimpy. Just say yes already! I’ll carry you everywhere. Betcha Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw didn’t offer that.”

You sigh, resting your head in your hands. This was going to be a long night.

Scarabia

You barely make it out of Octavinelle alive (or at least with your dignity and soul intact) when you’re immediately ambushed again.

“Prefect!” Kalim’s voice rings out, and before you can even process the sound, you’re being yanked into a whirlwind of color, music, and… is that confetti?

You blink as Scarabia's lounge comes into view, transformed into what can only be described as a full-blown festival. Tables are piled high with food, lanterns glow in warm hues, and cheerful music fills the air.

“Surprise!” Kalim grins, throwing his arms wide like he just gifted you the world. “Welcome to Scarabia! We threw a party just for you!”

“A… party?” you repeat, still trying to figure out how you got here so fast.

“Yep!” Kalim grabs your hands, his golden eyes shining with pure, unfiltered excitement. “I thought, ‘What’s the best way to convince you to join us?’ And then I thought, ‘A party! Everyone loves parties!’”

Before you can respond, a plate stacked with delicious-looking food appears in front of you, courtesy of none other than Jamil.

“Eat,” he says simply, pushing the plate closer.

“Oh, uh, thanks?” you mumble, picking up a fork.

Jamil nods, then leans in slightly, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. “This is just a taste of what Scarabia has to offer. Stick around, and I’ll make sure you’re well-fed every day. Properly fed.”

You pause mid-bite, noticing the way he emphasizes the word “properly,” like he knows exactly how many instant noodles you’ve been living off of.

Kalim, meanwhile, is still giving you the most devastating puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen. “You’ll join, right? We’d have so much fun together! And think of all the parties we could throw! Oh, and I can get you anything you want! Name it, and it’s yours!”

You glance between Kalim’s hopeful grin and Jamil’s subtle but persuasive bribes.

Jamil catches your hesitation and sighs, placing yet another dish in front of you. “Look, I’ll even help you stay on top of your work. You’re clearly the type who needs someone dependable around.”

“Hey!” you protest, only for him to raise an eyebrow as if to say, Am I wrong?

“Please?” Kalim chimes in, practically bouncing in place. “It’ll be so much fun! And I really, really want you to join. Scarabia would be perfect for you!”

You groan internally, stuffing another bite of food into your mouth just to avoid answering. Between Kalim’s overwhelming enthusiasm and Jamil’s quiet determination, you’re starting to think Scarabia might actually succeed in breaking your will.

You’re doomed. Aren’t you?

Pomefiore

You stumble out of Scarabia, clutching your overstuffed stomach and wondering how you’ve made it this far without officially losing your sanity. Taking the long way around campus to avoid any more ambushes seems like the best idea—you’ve had enough dorm propaganda for one day.

Or so you thought.

You’re halfway through the forest, breathing a sigh of relief at the quiet, when—

“Bonjour, mon cher trésor!”

You shriek as Rook appears out of thin air. Where did he even come from? Why is there sparkly lighting behind him? Is this even allowed?

“Rook! What—what are you doing here?!”

“Ah, I see you were clever enough to evade the others,” he says, ignoring your question entirely. “But you cannot escape me, the hunter of beauty! Pomefiore awaits, mon ami!”

Before you can protest, he’s scooped you up bridal style and is sprinting through the forest with unnatural speed, his laughter echoing ominously.

“This isn’t fair! You’re cheating!” you yell, flailing helplessly.

“All’s fair in love, war, and dorm recruitment, non?”

You soon find yourself unceremoniously plopped down in the middle of Pomefiore’s lounge. Vil is waiting with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression, though the way his foot taps against the floor suggests he’s less than pleased.

“Honestly,” Vil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Was the theatrics really necessary, Rook?”

“Always,” Rook replies with a wink.

Epel is off to the side, clearly trying not to laugh at your predicament while casually carving an apple.

“Well,” Vil says, straightening his posture and fixing you with a regal gaze. “I’ve heard about this… situation of yours. Joining Pomefiore would be the obvious choice. After all, we are the epitome of elegance and refinement. It would be a privilege for you to stay here, and I might even be able to do something about your… appearance.”

You blink. "What's wrong with my appearance?”

Vil waves a hand dismissively. “Nothing I can’t fix. Consider it a favor.”

Epel, meanwhile, sidles up next to you, whispering conspiratorially “Don’t listen to him. He’s just tryna butter you up. But, uh… you should totally join Pomefiore anyway. Look, I brought you some fresh juice from Harveston. And this apple.”

You glance at the carved apple he’s offering. It’s shaped like a little heart.

“Epel,” Vil scolds, glaring at him. “Stop bribing them. That’s hardly dignified.”

“Well, it’s working, isn’t it?” Epel shoots back, crossing his arms. “I just think we need someone who’ll actually get how hard it is to survive your routines. And they seem cool. So there.”

You feel your brain short-circuiting as Vil and Epel start bickering in front of you. Rook stands off to the side, watching with sparkling eyes like he’s witnessing a masterpiece.

Somehow, you feel like this is still less stressful than Scarabia. But only barely.

Ignihyde

You somehow manage to escape Pomefiore in one piece, though your mind feels like it’s been through a blender. You’re determined to finally make it back to Ramshackle without incident when—

“Prefect!”

You freeze mid-step as Ortho zooms into view, his boosters glowing bright blue. Before you can even blink, he grabs your arm with surprising strength.

“Ignihyde is next!” he announces cheerfully, starting to lift you off the ground.

“Wait, wait!” you shout, flailing. “I can walk! Please, I’ve been carried around like a stolen handbag all day!”

Ortho tilts his head, his LED eyes flickering. “Oh… okay! As long as you promise to come willingly!”

You nod frantically. “I promise! Just no more flying, please.”

Satisfied, Ortho takes your hand and leads you to Ignihyde. The journey is mercifully uneventful, though you can feel your soul leaving your body as you realize what’s waiting for you inside.

Sure enough, Idia is hunched over in the corner of the lounge, a laptop balanced precariously on a stack of game boxes. The moment you enter, the screen lights up with a title slide: “Top 10 Reasons Why You Should Join Ignihyde” in bold, glowing text.

“Oh, you’re here,” Idia mutters, adjusting his hoodie nervously. His hair flickers faintly pink at the tips. “Uh, okay, so—yeah, uh—welcome? Or whatever. Let’s, um, get this over with.”

He clicks to the first slide, which is an overwhelming wall of text filled with bullet points, charts, and what looks like a meme of a cat wearing glasses.

“Reason number one,” Idia starts, stumbling over his words. “Um, we’re quiet? Like, no loud parties or annoying socializing. Uh… unless you count Ortho, but, uh, he’s not that bad. And you can play games as much as you want. Or watch anime. Or—uh—just chill. Yeah.”

Ortho, standing nearby, nods enthusiastically. “Ignihyde is perfect for you! And Brother worked really hard on this presentation!”

You glance at Idia, who’s clearly fighting for his life to make eye contact with you. He clicks to the next slide, which is just a stock photo of a cozy room.

“Reason number two,” he continues. “We, uh, have good Wi-Fi? Like, really good. You could stream in 4K if you wanted to. Not that you’d want to. Or maybe you would? Uh… I dunno. Anyway.”

His hair flickers a deeper pink, and he clicks to the next slide. It’s a crudely edited photo of you and him standing next to each other in front of a glowing Ignihyde logo. You’re not sure whether to be impressed or deeply concerned.

He glances at you, his expression oddly hopeful. “So, uh… what do you think?”

You can feel Ortho practically vibrating next to you, his bright smile threatening to blind you. Meanwhile, Idia is trying (and failing) to look indifferent, but the way his fingers tap anxiously on the laptop betrays him.

“I’ll… think about it,” you say carefully, not having the heart to crush Idia’s dreams outright.

His hair sparks bright pink for a split second before he slams the laptop shut, muttering something about “overheating processors” and “input overload.”

Ortho cheers. “Yay! I knew you’d see how great we are!”

You manage a weak smile, already planning your escape route.

Diasomnia

You’re so close—so, so close—to finally making it back to Ramshackle when the universe decides to remind you that peace is but a fleeting dream.

“Ah, there you are!”

You barely have time to scream before Lilia literally materializes out of thin air, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into a swirling vortex of green light.

“Wait, NO—”

Too late. You’re already standing in the middle of Diasomnia’s lounge, disoriented and ready to file a restraining order against anyone with teleportation magic.

Malleus looks up from where he’s seated, eyebrows raising slightly. “Child of man? What brings you here?”

“Great news, Malleus!” Lilia chirps, dropping you onto the couch like a sack of potatoes. “They’re choosing a dorm to transfer to, and we couldn’t possibly let them pick anywhere but Diasomnia!”

Malleus freezes, his eyes wide with surprise, before his expression shifts into one of regal determination. He rises from his seat, his imposing height making you feel like a pebble in the presence of a mountain.

“Is this true?” he asks, his voice deep and serious. “You’re choosing a new dorm?”

“Uh, yeah, but—”

“Then it must be Diasomnia.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Here, you will be protected. No harm shall come to you under my watch. And…” He pauses, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “I have a gargoyle in my room. A fine specimen. You would enjoy its company.”

You blink. “...A gargoyle?”

“Yes,” Malleus says with absolute sincerity, as though that’s the most convincing argument in the world.

Before you can process that, Sebek practically throws himself to the floor in front of you, bowing with the intensity of a knight swearing fealty.

“Human!” he bellows. “You must choose Diasomnia! To live anywhere else would be an insult to the Young Master’s unparalleled grace and power! Surely, you can see this is the only logical choice!”

“Sebek,” Silver mumbles from his spot on the couch, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Maybe let them decide for themselves.”

“But, Silver!” Sebek protests, his voice trembling with the sheer force of his conviction. “The honor! The prestige!”

Meanwhile, Lilia floats into view, holding a plate of… something. “Don’t worry about dinner, dear. I’ve prepared a feast for you! Go on, take a bite.”

You stare at the plate. It looks like it might be alive. “I’m… good, thanks.”

“Nonsense! You need to keep your strength up!” Lilia insists, thrusting the plate closer to your face.

Silver sighs, finally sitting up. “You should just do what feels right,” he says, offering you a calm, reassuring smile. “Don’t let them pressure you.”

You glance between Malleus’s earnest expression, Sebek’s passionate pleas, and Lilia’s… questionable cooking. Your stomach growls, but you’re not sure if it’s hunger or the beginnings of a panic attack.

One thing’s for sure: if you survive this day, you’re going to need therapy.

The sun is setting by the time you finally drag your aching body back to Ramshackle. The dorm looms ahead, creaky and crumbling, but for once, it feels like a safe haven compared to the dorm-hopping marathon you just survived.

As you step inside, you’re greeted by the unmistakable voice of your ever-demanding feline companion. “There you are! What took ya so long? I’ve been waitin’ forever!”

Grim is sprawled on the couch, a can of tuna already half-empty beside him. He squints at you suspiciously. “So? Which dorm are we movin’ to?”

You groan, flopping face-first onto the nearest piece of semi-clean furniture. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“What?!” Grim squawks, leaping onto the armrest beside you. “What do ya mean you haven’t decided? This is important! We gotta pick one where I can get the most tuna, y’know?”

You tilt your head just enough to glare at him. “Oh, sure. Let me just base my entire living situation on your snack preferences.”

Grim puffs up, indignant. “Hey! I’ve been puttin’ up with this dump longer than anyone! I deserve to have a say!”

You sigh, the weight of the day finally catching up to you. Somehow, Grim being his usual self is oddly comforting after everything. No bribes, no PowerPoints, no gargoyle sales pitches—just Grim being Grim.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” you mumble, your voice muffled by the cushion. “I’m too tired to think.”

Grim eyes you for a moment before huffing. “Fine. But don’t take too long, got it? I’m not stickin’ around this dump forever!”

With that, he hops off to raid the kitchen, leaving you alone to sink further into the furniture. You stare at the ceiling, your brain too fried to process anything else.

Tomorrow. You’ll deal with it tomorrow. For now, all you want is to sleep in your creaky, drafty old dorm. At least here, no one’s trying to kidnap you.

Masterlist

[zenmiren]

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who pretended to listen when the higher-ups mentioned a political marriage between his clan and yours. he honestly expected that they wouldn't marry him off. he thought,'most likely a distant cousin will be chosen', but not him.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, whose world came crashing down when the higher-ups chose him to be married off. no.. he already had a woman he was interested in.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who forced a smile on the day of your wedding, sure, he didn't want to marry you, but he was taught manners, and he would treat you with the bare minimum at the least, and in his eyes, because he didn't love you, he was allowed to be unfaithful.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who lied straight through his teeth when he spoke his vows.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who always slept with his back faced towards you, you had occasionally tried to shuffle closer towards him, but he always ignored your advances

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who often lied about his whereabouts. you text him late at night, "when are you coming home?", he leaves you on seen.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who after ignoring your texts, places his phone back down to crawl back into the arms of his beloved, inhaling the scent of her french perfume.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, whose coat had a sweet note, buried deep into the pocket. "come see me soon, i miss you, toru xoxo". the note was sealed with an obnoxious bright pink lipstick mark. you had found it when you were doing laundry.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who listened to you quietly sob every night, thinking that he couldn't hear you and that he was asleep.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who, after a full year of marriage with you, started to make no effort in hiding his affair, he knew you knew.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who ditched you on your first year anniversary because his beloved was ill. he had his priorities straight.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who had the gall to start bringing her home. your shared home.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who doesn't bat an eye when you walk out of the house, all dressed up. he didn't even notice, too focused on giving all his attention to his beloved in the spare bedroom.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who had found out that his beloved had simply just been using him for the things he could provide.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who noticed the smell of men's cologne on you when you returned home.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who after a week of boredom, heartbreak, and your absence every night, finally decides to follow you to the bar you always go to.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who finds you with another man, he didn't know what came upon him but he was jealous.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who continued to spy on you, just so he could get evidence and present it to you, just so he could confront you.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who collects all his photos of you and your new man and dumps it in front of you when your eating breakfast

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who, after a heated argument with you, received a slap to the face before you grabbed your phone and wallet and walked out of the home.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who now knows what it feels like to be the unloved spouse. you both couldn't divorce each other because the higher-ups would most likely throw tantrums, so he had to suck it up and watch as you found happiness in someone that wasn't him.

arranged husband! satoru gojo, who realised he had no one to blame but himself. he didn't love you, but he thrived off the love that you gave him, and now that it was gone, the reality slapped him in the face.

this is kinda cheeks but whatevs

also i wrote this like freaking 1 week ago but i forgot about it cus i was cramming algebra 💔💔

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

won't you spare me another year ?

synopsis : you want to be the first person to wish your katsuki a happy birthday every year <3

an. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BOYFRIEND!!

cw. nothing, pure fluff!!! also fem reader!

"5..4...3...2...1...aaaand—happy birthday, katsuki !!"

katsuki groans sleepily as your arms tighten around him. "you're fucking insane. it's midnight."

"it's your birthday !" you defend quietly, pouting up at him. he looks down at you and chuckles.

"ya could've just let me sleep and told me that shit in the morning, would've still been m'birthday." he yawns, wiping his eyes. you shoot up to press a kiss to his cheek, leaning into his space more to kiss him all over while he pretends to try and push you off when you roll on top of him. you both ignore how he immediately goes to squeezing your hips when you settle on top.

"i could've, but then there would've been a chance i slept in too long and then i wouldn't have been the first one to wish you happy birthday."

"so my birthday's a competition now ?"

"yup. and i plan to be first every year." you giggle, he rolls his eyes but can't hide the smile growing on his face.

"clingy brat.." he mumbles, he kisses you back anyways when your lips reach his.

"you love me." you counter.

"mm, whatever." he waves off, grabbing the back of your head to bring your lips back to his. you squeal as he tries to deepen the kiss. "you're being greedy." you warn, lips smushed against his.

"s'my birthday, means i get what i wan’, right ? and since you're gonna keep me awake, could at the very least gimme a proper damn kiss." he says between kisses, it makes you laugh against his mouth and he smiles. when you pull away, you lean in to press a long, lasting kiss on the scar right below his eye. you can feel the way the muscles in his face drop and his arms tighten around you in surprise.

"happy birthday, katsuki. i'm glad i can spend another year with you." you whisper earnestly, looking down at him like he'd hung up the moon and the stars for you. unfortunately, it seems that was too much sincerity for your poor boyfriend. he squints, his massive palms enveloping your face to squeeze your cheeks.

"y-yeah, yeah. quit bein' sappy..." he huffs. you feel his thumb run against your bottom lip when he glances up at you, ears tinted pink as he quietly whispers out a "thanks...".

you don't need to say anymore, smiling as you lay on his chest. you hum "what do you wanna do for your birthday ?"

"stay in and fuckin' sleep." is his simple response, you can't help but snort.

"and nothing else ?" you look up at him.

he looks down at you "sounds like you got something you're hiding from me." he asks, suspiciously raising a brow.

you scoff, looking away "pffff, me ? no way..."you lie, your voice going airy.

you’re being grabbed by your cheeks in an instant and katsuki’s not deterred by your whining "you're a shit liar."

"i plead the fifth."

"plead my ass." katsuki scoffs, squishing your cheeks in his palm. "i hate being out of the loop on shit, you know that."

"would it kill you to not be a killjoy ? where's your whimsy ? your child's soul ?" you whine.

"whatever the fuck that means." katsuki snarks. you laugh again, and he rolls his eyes. "as long as whatever you got planned doesn't take up my whole damn day, then do what you want."

now it's your turn to roll your eyes "no need to worry, i won't be interfering with your plans to sleep in."

"our plans. you're not going anywhere." your boyfriend corrects.

"i have no say in it, do i ?" you tease.

he pokes your cheek. "nope. s'my birthday." he responds simply.

you laugh "you're using that as some sort of cheat code now ?"

when your laughter dies down he's still looking down at you. eyes, droopy with sleep sure, but with something soft inside of them. they glow illuminated by the light of the moon outside.

"what ?"

"nuffin." he sighs, still just looking down at you. his fingers run across your face, your cheeks and eyebrows and nose so softly, so unlike him (he of course has to take the opportunity to squeeze your nose, but you decide not to ruin the moment).

"yeah, right. c'mon what is it?" you urge. katsuki scoffs "so damn persistent." he reprimands. he shushes you when you remind him that "that's why you like me so much!"

"m'just..thinkin'."

"about..?" you wiggle higher up until you can kiss his chin. he sighs again , smiling to himself.

"about...this really annoying girl."

you glare up at him, he smirks. "oh yeah ?" you deadpan.

"oh, yeah. a real pain in the ass. always talkin' back to me and bothering me. planning surprises and other stupid things for my birthday every year. " he taunts.

you roll your eyes again "she sounds like a fun time. sounds to me like you just don't know how to have any fun." you grouch. katsuki laughs, of course he does, dickhead.

"yeah, well. as annoying as she is...she is a pretty damn fun time." he admits softly "real damn sweet too...probably too sweet for me.."

you look up at him in surprise. he squeezes your nose to avoid you and you swipe at his hand. he continues talking while you're distracted. "but i'm glad she chose to be with an asshole like me, and..." he leans down to press a peck between your brows.

"..and there's nothing else i'd like more for my birthday then to spend it with her again next year. even if we do lame, boring shit like staying in or doing whatever."

you feel your heart squeeze almost painfully tight. your cheeks pull up so hard you feel your jaw hurt, but you're so unbearably happy.

so unbearably happy you get to spend another year of his life with him.

you lean in to kiss him. "well, i don't know about her surprises, but mine's gonna blow your socks off. s'gonna make you cry like you did last year."

he scoffs, planting another kiss to your lips. "i didn't cry, dickwad. that's your mind making shit up." he denies.

"yeah, okay" you laugh, and with one final kiss you pull back to look at your love, with all the love you had for him. "happy birthday, katsuki."

and he smiles back, softly, and only reserved for moments like this with you.

yeah, it sure was. happy fuckin' birthday to him.

[apatheticsunday]

Dead Tired College AU

AKA "Danny Fenton and Tim Drake go to college at Gotham-U together" headcanon!!

Maybe Danny moved to Gotham to avoid his parents finding out about Phantom and Tim is a part-time college student trying to get his business degree so people stop accusing Bruce Wayne of nepotism after Tim inherited WE. (It absolutely still is, but at least this way Tim is at least somewhat more qualified on paper.)

Anyways, they both took Anthropology as their humanities/pre-requisite elective and they're discussing death rituals, afterlife, etc. Now imagine Danny, officially Half-Dead, and Tim, who's brothers (Jason and Damian) literally died, getting into a heated discussion about spirits.

I also find the idea of them arguing via fucking Canvas (or whatever discussion forum/platform Gotham-U uses) so, so funny.

Imagine it's like 3am;

Danny, insomniac, been awake for 42 hours and popping melatonin gummies like gummy bears, furiously typing: i'm literally THE KING of infinite realms?? i know what i'm talking about, i fucking died

Tim, also been awake for 42 hours, chugging an energy drink, sending a response in 0.2 seconds: Half of Gotham has died at some point. You're not special, dumbass.

Give me "group of scientists losing their minds and climbing over the table to assault one another during scientific conference" vibes!!

And then they get paired up to do a group presentation (and Brad, who they ignore because they're both Experts, so this poor frat dude just slowly sinks into his chair between two sleep-deprived maniacs screaming at each other in the library). But Tim notices something weird about Danny, aside from his insane views on afterlife. Danny... glows? And sometimes doesn't really touch the floor when he walks. They're going to get coffee (so they can keep arguing debating, obviously, not because they enjoy each other's company or anything), and Tim watches as Danny just kind of... floats. Like, he's still walking but he's not really touching the ground.

Danny's hands are also super cold. Tim knows this because he grabbed Danny's hands once or twice (or more) to do... something, idk. But since his hands were so cold, Tim figured he should probably keep holding them; y'know, to warm them up.

And when Tim leans in to ask a question or insult him, Danny's breath comes out almost like a mist. Visibly white, like exhaling a hot breath in winter. Which... what. Holy shit, is his presentation partner actually sort of dead??

Danny, on the other hand, has no idea that Tim doesn't know. He literally said he died? And Tim took it so well, snarked back that he's not special - it was so nice to just feel normal. So he lets his guard down a bit. Maybe isn't as tangible, maybe is a bit more floaty, lets his body temperature drop enough to be comfortable. Doesn't put a whole lot of effort into making himself look so alive (because it's really tiring to pretend to be something you're not) when it's just him and Tim because Tim already knows, right?

They could be friends or they could be more! Whatever floats your boat.

But I could totally see Danny squinting at Tim holding his hand, remembering how Tim bought his favorite coffee, saved him a spot a the library, constantly texted him (because, c'mon, Tim is a bit obsessive and you don't think he'd be texting his new "friend ;)" every minute he has the chance?), and always leaned in super close to "ask a question"...and be like, are we flirting?? Oh, Hells, am I into him??

For plot reasons, Danny could be like, "I can't tell Tim I like him! What if I ruin our friendship? It'll be my secret."

And then, one day, Tim is like, "Hey, I know you're keeping something from me. I think I know what it is." And Danny's like ohshitohfuck. This cumulates into them saying, at the same time, I know you're a ghost and I have a crush on you.

Tim and Danny: *shocked Pikachu face*

Then, Danny's like, "I can't believe I have a crush on a fucking idiot."

[obsessedwithceleste]

Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into a bloody ray of sunshine” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as someone who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to them.”

"I thought we didn't like them?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when they see the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” they tell you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, love?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of text.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

[piroulinewafers]

could u write something about hybrid puppy caleb being nasty as hell..(leaving this open, feel free to do whatever uw im open to anything). i love ur writing sm i cant stop sending asks BYEEE i was wondering if u take anons? if so can i be 💐? have a lovely day xx

𝐚/𝐧: i love puppy hybrid caleb... i dont think this is very "nasty" in the sense of the word, but i've been brainrotting about puppy waiter caleb for quite some time and maid day was a few days past so... i love writing for hybrids hehe. back in the day, there used to be this hq hybrid acc i was super into on here and i would frequent their page often heh. i kind of got distracted at the end but whatever its fine sighhh. thank you 💐 anon for giving me an excuse to write this 😋.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: puppy hybrid! caleb x fem! reader 𝐜𝐰: smut, overstimulation. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

it had started with a stupid comment.

she hadn’t meant it seriously— just an offhanded joke tossed to one of her friends while she and caleb were out buying groceries one evening, something about how those themed cafes with butlers or maid were always kind of… cute. silly. harmless

she hadn’t thought anything of it, merely a mention that they’d likely have a sale for the upcoming “maid day”. but caleb had heard.

he hadn’t said anything that night. just turned his head slightly, one ear twitching in the subtle way it did when he was paying attention to something he pretend not to be.

and now, somehow, here she was— standing in the their living room after returning home from work, door barely half-shut, blinking in stunned silence. 

frankly, it was suspicious. caleb was rarely quiet, especially not in the mornings. usually he greeted the day like it owed him something— loud yawns, half-buttoned shirts, big grins.

but today? silence. at least, until she finally spotted him.

there stood caleb, ears perking up at the sound of her entering the open-plan kitchen-living room space. 

the white button-up shirt he wore stretched across his chest, its collar messily done up, and the sleeves bunched up and slightly wrinkled like he had had been tugging at them nervously earlier. the pink pants were too fitted to be deemed anything close to comfortable in her eyes, the apron tied at his hips doing absolutely nothing to tame the broad frame it cinched in. it was pink and white plaid, with little ruffles along the hem and a small satin bow at the base of his spine, right above the soft wage of his tail. 

and, as if that wasn’t enough— frosting. a small, very deliberate smear of white on his cheek. 

he simply beamed.

“what are you wearing, caleb?” she finally asked, brows drawing into a confused furrow.

caleb tilted his head, hands innocently behind his back as his tail wagged a mile a minute. “it’s maid day,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “wasn’t that somethin’ you mentioned once? somethin’ cute?”

“you… remember that? were you eavesdropping?”

he stepped closer, ignoring her accusation entirely. “i made breakfast,” he said, proudly. “figured i’d serve it up like a proper house pup.”

she sat slowly, still stunned as caleb presented her a plate with surprising care: pancakes, stacked with melted butter and syrup dripping along the edges with a mound of frosting, beside a slightly too runny sunny side up egg.

he stood behind her once she started eating, arms crossed, watching eagerly.

“well?” he asked, tail twitching almost nervously, ears perking up against as he waited for her response.

“it’s good,” she said, voice muffled by a mouthful of pancake. “why’s the egg so— “

“don’t worry about it,” he interrupted, before she could ruin the moment. “it was just that stupid pan, but i tried real hard, so isn’t that all that matters?”

she could tell by the flicking of his tail that he was nervous, eagerly awaiting her response. 

there was another beat of silence as she took another bite— and that’s when caleb leaned in.

“by the way…” he said, practically purring, brushing a knuckle to his cheek. “i think i got a lil’ somethin’ right here. right there. frostin’. could you maybe…”

he trailed of, nudging his face toward her, ears twitching. 

she sighed. “you’re ridiculous.”

but she leaned up, gently brushing her thumb over the smear. that was all the permission he needed.

in an instant, caleb let out a pleased, puppy-like hum and nuzzled into her hand, rubbing his cheek against her palm before quickly shifting to lick it— one long, deliberate lap.

“caleb!” she gasped, trying to pull away, but he caught her easily, tail wagging wildly. 

“you said i was ridiculous,” he said, half laughing, half whining. “but you haven’t told me to stop.” he held her hand pressed to his cheek with two firm ones.

“your hands are so gentle,” he whispered. his eyes, flushed deep violet, looked up at her with a dangerous kind of devotion, all puppy-dog sincerity wrapped in pure, unadulterated, debilitating love. 

his tongue brushed along her cheek before she could speak. “you like this, don’tcha? you like it when i act dumb for you.”

“stop it— “ 

“but you were smilin’,” he said with a wicked grin. “saw it. you’re all flustered.”

she tried to push him off, but caleb was bigger. stronger. and annoyingly needy.

he whined again, low and soft in his chest, like she was about to leave him out in the cold. “c’mon, baby. just pet me a little. tell me i’m good. i dressed up and everythin’…”

his tail brushed across her legs as he leaned in closer, voice dropping. “i’ll do anything’….”

her heart kicked hard against her ribs.

the apron brushed against her knees as he grew close, his hands sliding around her waist, warm palms pulling her closer. “been thinkin’ about this all mornin’,” he admitted, half under his breath, “’bout you touchin’ me. praisin’ me. let me serve you properly. like a good waiter would.”

the air shifted between them. heated. 

he leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “say i’m good. say it once and i’ll be the best pup you ever had.”

her hands found his hair, sliding between the soft space between his twitching ears. 

and when she finally spoke, low and soft, it broke something in him. 

“you’re such a good boy, caleb.” 

his breath caught. and then he growled— not in anger, but in something needier, more primal. 

she barely had time to register the shift before he leaned forward and kissed her— messy, eager, with the same urgency he gave to every part of his life. his ears twitched, on flopping forward as if to listen in on her heartbeat, his tail curling slightly behind him in its furious wagging. 

he didn’t stop at one kiss. caleb chased her mouth like he was starving, like she was the only thing in the would that could sate him. his hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him as he licked her bottom lip with a small, teasing flick— less polished, more instinctual. 

“i wore this dumb frilly thing just for you,” he mumbled against her lips, breath warm and quick. “didn’t think i’d like it, but… you lookin’ at me like that— “ he groaned softly, his forehead pressed to hers now. “say you like it. please. just say it.”

wide-eyed and breathless, she nodded slowly. “you… you look cute,” she whispered, barely audible. 

his whole body responded— ears perked, tail wagging in a blur. he lit up like a fuse, practically vibrating with joy, before dragging her down into another kiss, hands roaming but still restrained— just barely. 

“tell me i’m good again,” he muttered, mouth brushing against the curve of her jaw now. “tell me i’m good, please. woke up early to make you breakfast. got frosting’ on my cheek and didn’t lick it just so you’d touch me. all for you.”

his lips ghosted along her neck, needy and reverent. his breath hitching as she scratching behind his ears, a delight sound spilling past his lips.

“i’ll do anything— ‘m serious. i’ll behave, i’ll kneel, i’ll bark, i don’t care— just say it again.” 

the apron bunched around his waist as he shifted against her, still clinging, still pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. his tail thumbed again, half-wrapped around her ankle now and his ears twitching at every sound she made, every soft breath or sigh.

“i love you, caleb…”

eagerly in response, he licked her cheek without warning again— just a soft, eager swipe like it was the most natural thing in the world. “you taste sweet too.”

“caleb,” she said, a mixture between a laugh and an exasperated sigh.

“what?” he grinned, all mischief and love as he pulled back a bit to get a better look at her face. “you let me kiss you. now i gotta touch, gotta hold— gotta do somethin’ or i’m going to explode.”

gently, she cupped his cheeks, thumbing over the faint freckles on his face. she watched him tilt his head in her grasp, staring up at her with that smitten gaze of his. with a hum, she peppered sweet, feather-light kisses to his skin, finally giving into his pleas. 

she kissed him again, and again and he melted into every one— hot, soft, trembling with affection as he murmured, “love you, love you so much. let me show you. let me— “

his violet eyes gleamed with a mix of playfulness and barely restrained desire as he straddled her lap, his larger frame enveloping hers. 

the soft fabric of his pink pants stretched taught over his muscular thighs, the frill apron at his waist fluttered softly as he shifted his hips, grinding down against her pajama-clad bottom.

caleb’s breathing grew heavy as he nuzzled at her collarbone, nipping at the sensitive skin as he panted. he was painfully hard, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. the outline of his cock, complete with the distinct knot at the base, was clearly visible. he squirmed, leaning more of his weight against her, unable to contain the overwhelming urge to claim her, to make her his.

his fingers crept up under her shirt, pushing the fabric higher up her torso as he explored the soft skin beneath. he wanted to touch her, to feel every inch of her body against his own. 

“please,” he whined, his voice taking on a more canine-like timbre. “i’m so hard, i need to— fuck— “

his actions forced a sharp gasp to leave her, cold hands pressed against the bare skin of her stomach as she looked up at him, lips parted. 

she bit her lip, feeling the heat of caleb’s body pressed so urgently against her own. as much as she loved seeing him all dressed up just for her, she couldn’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed by his intensity, even though she was used to it to some extent. 

it was still so early, and her stomach grumbled with hunger, the half eaten eggs and pancakes calling her name while caleb rutted against her. “caleb, wait…” she started to protest, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, trying to smooth the fabric and perhaps calm the manic energy radiating off of him.

but caleb seemed not to hear her, too lost in his own desperate need as he captured her wrists, pinning her hands above her head as he loomed over her, eyes wild and hungry. “please,” he growled, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that sent shivers down her spine this time. “i can’t wait anymore. i need you so bad…”

before she could voice any further objections, caleb had hoisted her up and then gently but firmly pushed her down onto the wooden floor. she let out a soft grunt as her back his the ground, the air leaving her lungs in a rush as she rubbed her back. 

“caleb, the floor is uncomfortable— “

any attempt at a complain fell on deaf ears, as caleb was already settling his weight on top of her, his hips neatly between her spread thighs. he rocked against her, his painfully hard cock straining against the confines of his pink pants as it chafed against her pajama bottoms. the knot at the base of his shaft pulsed and throbbed. 

she squirmed beneath him, cheeks flushed pink as she fettle heat of his desperation, the way his body trembled with the effort of holding back. “it’s too early, caleb, i didn’t even finish breakfast…”

his ears twitched and flattened back against his head as he leaned down to shut her up, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her. his tail wagged frantically behind him, the long, fluffy appendage brushing against her thighs as he ground his aching cock against her core. he groaned into her mouth, the sound a mix of pleasure and frustration. 

“i know, i know,” he panted, breath hot against her neck as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin. “i’ll make it up to you, baby. i promise. i’ll spoil you rotten, just please— “he punctuated his words with a particularly sharp nip to her earlobe, sending sparks of pained pleasure through her.

caleb’s hands roamed her body greedily, pushing up under her pajama top again to expose the soft skin of her stomach and chest. he splayed his fingers wide, gripping her waist and rocking more insistently against her as he gazed down at her with burning eyes. 

his hands slid down to her pajama pants, fingers curling into the waistband as he tugged impatiently at the fabric. she knew she should protest more, should insist that he slow down, but the hungry, desperate look in his eyes stole her breath away. she gasped softly as he yanked her pants down, baring her lower half to his heated gaze.

the knot at the base of his cock throbbed almost painfully, straining against the fabric of his boxers and the tight confines of his pants. it rubbed deliciously against her clothed slit, the friction sending sparks of reluctant pleasure zinging up her spine. 

 his desperation reached a fever pitch, fingers clumsy in their urgency as he forced her panties to the side, , exposing the glistening folds to the cool air. the scent of her arousal filled his nose, making his head swim with lust.

still clothed in his straining pink pants, caleb tried to shove the right fabric down his thighs, panting harshly as he struggled to free his aching cock. the button and zipper fought against his desperate, trembling fingers until, with a final frustrated snarl, he ripped the fabric, tearing a gaping hole in the crotch of his pants. the ruined garment hung in a tattered state as he threw it to the side wtith his boxers, his throbbing erection springing free, bulbous knot at the base pulsing angrily.

she gasped at the sight, eyes widening. “caleb!” she scolded lightly, her cheeks flushing pink. “look at what you’ve done to your nice pants!” despite her words, there was a hint of amusement in her voice as she propped herself up on her , sitting up a bit.

caleb was too far gone, too consumed by his own need to care about ruined clothing. he shook his head, ears flopping as he gazed down at her with glazed, lust-filled eyes. drool dripped from the corner of his mouth, splattering onto her exposed clit, making it glisten obscenely and forcing a shaky sigh past her lips. 

“don’t look at me like that…” he grumbled, dejection clearly clinging to his words. 

he was left only in the frilly apron, still tied snugly around his waist, his fat cock tenting against the fabric and leaving an obscene damp spot in it's wake.

before she could offer any sort of response, caleb was rutting against her again, the swollen head of his cock kissing her entrance, smearing her arousal around her delicate folds. she gasped, back arching off the floor as he grunted and panted above her, hips moving in a frenzied rhythm.

he tried once, twice, each time clumsily trying to sink into her, but his cock kept notching against her hole and slipping out, rubbing against her folds on her thigh. 

then, with a single, powerful thrust, he drove forward, burying his thick, pulsing shaft into her tight, wet heat. she cried out, nails raking down his back as he split her own on his fat cock, knot catching on her entrance and tugging at her stretched flesh.

caleb set a relentless pace, hips slapping against her thighs with each desperate, needy thrust. the wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by caleb’s grunts and growls of pleasure. 

he didn’t give her time to adjust, didn’t bother with gentle or slow. he just took her, claimed her, body driven by a primal, animalistic instinct. 

“i’m sorry,” he panted, his voice strained with exertion and ecstasy. “i’m sorry i didn’t prepare you better. ‘couldn’t wait any longer. fuck, you’re so tight, so perfect…” his words dissolved into a low, keening moan as he snapped his hips forward particularly hard, the head of his cock battering her cervix.

she could only cling to him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back, feeling them flex and tense with each powerful thrust. her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass as he rutted into her, thick cock stretching her walls deliciously. she could feel every ridge, every vein, every throbbing inch of his shaft as he plunged in and out of her dripping cunt.

caleb’s ears stood tall and alert atop his head , swivelling and twitching with every sound and sensation. his tail brushed against her calves, wagging with wild abandon as he lost himself in the sensation of her tight, wet heat gripping his aching cock. 

his tail thumped against the the floorboards with reckless abandon, each thrust forcing more breathy moans past her lips, eyes screwed shut. 

“please, please… please look at me. look, look— “caleb whimpered, his breath coming in harsh, desperate pants against her neck. “i love you, i love you so fuckin’ much. i need to… i need to…” he couldn’t even finish his thought process, his hips twitching. 

“‘gonna knot you, yeah, can i?” he forced out, though they both knew that he wasn/t the type to wait for anyone’s permission before acting. 

his cock pulsed and jerked inside her as thick ropes of hot, sticky seed finally painted her inner walls.

she cried out, walls clamping down around him like a vice as she felt his release fill her up, her own orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, body shaking and shuddering as she came hard on his pistoning cock. 

caleb’s body shuddered, muscles tensing as his knot swelled and notched in her. he let out guttural grown as he felt the bulbous flesh expand, tying them together as he squeezed his eyes shut, the sensation of being deeply, irrevocably bound to her sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through his body. 

despite the discomfort of his knot stretching her to her limits, caleb couldn’t stop the instinctive need to rut, to claim, to mark his mate. his hips jerked and twitched erratically, his softening cock rubbing against her sensitive walls as he weakly humped into her, chasing the fading embers of his release. 

“can’t… can’t stop,” he panted harshly, his breath hot and moist against her neck. drool dribbled from his chin, splattering not her collarbone as he ground his pelvis against hers, his knot throbbing and pulsing inside her with each weak thrust.

she whimpered, her inner muscles fluttering and clenching around the thick obstruction lodged deep inside her. the sensation of being so utterly stuffed, of feeling caleb’s seed sloshing heavily inside her as he rutted into her, was intense and overwhelming. 

it was almost too much, the pleasure bordering on pain as her tender flesh struggled to accommodate his insistent movements.

she gasped out, her fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as she tried to anchor herself amidst the tempest of sensation. “it’s t-too much. you’re hurting me…” despite her words, she made no move to stop him, her body instinctively yielding to his claiming thrusts.

caleb just groaned in responses, hips giving a particularly sharp jerk as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply and lapping at the teeth marks he had left early. 

his body shuddered, muscles quivering with exertion as his hips seemed to jerk on their own, instinct-driven thrusts. he panted easily, breathing coming out in ragged gasps against her sweat-dampened skin. “sorry,” he grunted, voice strained. “I know i’m hurtin’ you, i just.. i can’t stop. fuck, it feels too good.”

he let out a low, agnozied groan as a particular jolt of discomfort shot through him, his knot twisting and tugging at her stretched, sensitive entrance, any attempt to pull out to thrust in any deeper stopped by his inflated knot.

“hurts… fuck, it hurts, but i can’t— “

finally, with a shuddered gasp, his body went limp, knees weak as he slumped forward, practically collapsed on top of her, pressing her into the floor. 

she let out a weak, breathless protest as she as she found herself pinned beneath him, still so intimately connected. she gently hit his shoulder with a closed fist. 

“ow, caleb, you jerk…” she whimpered, shifting her hips gingerly and wincing at the feeling of him inside of her. “you’re a bad dog, you need to learn how to control yourself and— oof!”

caleb suddenly rolled them over so that her body was splayed out on top of him, soft curves molding to the hard planes of his body.

he just pouted up at her, lips curling into a miserable frown. he looked so adorably sorry, looking up at her with those irresistible puppy dog eyes. “i know, i know,” he mumbled, his voice thick with guilt. “you don’t really think i’m a bad dog, do you? i just love you so much… i can’t help myself around you…”

he nuzzled into her neck once more, his nose brushing against her jawline as he breathed in her scent, still heavy with the musk of their coupling.

the room had gone quiet, save for the slow, steady rhythm of caleb’s breathing and the soft thump-thump of his tail against the floor. he lay sprawled on his back on the floor, cheeks flushed pink and the apron still bunched up around his waist, with her draped over his chest like she belonged there— and she did. his arms were wound tightly around her waist, fingers twitching now and then as if to remind himself she was real, she was here, and she was his.

he gave a soft, tired whine, muffled in her hair as he nuzzled the top of her head. “m’not lettin’ you go,” he mumbled, tail giving another lazy wag against the wood floor. “even if i could.”

she gave a sleepy huff of laughter, nose tucked against his collarbone, her legs tangled with his. “hm, is that so, puppy?”

that earned a pleased rumble from deep in his chest. his ears gave a lazy twitch, one flopping sideways as he smiled, dazed and dopey. he was still flushed, still panting just a little, but more than anything, he looked happy. puppy-happy. glowing with the kind of simple joy only he could manage after something so intense.

“you’re real warm,” he mumbled, cheek smushed into her temple. “perfect size. like a little blanket just for me.”

“you’re the heater here,” she teased weakly, but her voice was fond, her fingers lazily combing through his hair and brushing along the base of one ear. 

he let out a whuff of a sigh and arched into it, tail thumping a little faster now.

“spoilin’ me,” he murmured. “i’m going to get all needy if you keep that up.”

“you’re already needy as is,” she said, and he didn’t even deny it— just gave a dopey grin and licked her cheek again, soft and slow, like he couldn’t help himself.

“guess i am,” he said, his voice all gravel and sunshine, “but you like it. admit it.”

she rolled her eyes, but didn’t move. didn’t want to move. not with him still knotted inside her, not with his arms like iron around her and that soft, puppyish whine every time she shifted too far away. not with his tail brushing her calves and his thumb lazily stroking her lower back in slow, content circles.

“i like you like this,” she admitted finally, cheek resting over his heartbeat. “all clingy and warm. soft.”

his ears perked up, tail wagging harder now despite how tired he was. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

he made a soft, pleased wuff again, kissed the top of her head, and tightened his hold. “then i’m stayin’ like this forever. right here. with you. no one else gets you like this, alright? just me.”

she smiled into his skin, letting her eyes drift shut, wrapped in the arms of the world’s biggest, clingiest, most lovably infatuated puppy.

“so needy, caleb,” she hummed. she let out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to his bare chest as she rested her cheek against him..

“just you.”

[quietstormxr]

Green Dragon

My first post out to the Tumblr universe. Here’s some angst between you and Xaden.

Let me know what y’all think! And if there should be a part 2!

Part 2

The green dragon, but not your green dragon, have taken residence inside your heart and mind. Never before had you felt threatened in your relationship; however, something seemed to change the minute Violet Sorrengail entered the quadrant. Not only did your friends seem distracted by the girl, but you could feel him peeling away little by little.

As days and months wore on, it seemed that the interest that peaked in him as he withdrew from interest in you. At first, you figured it was the stress of the deal with her mother, then you realized that wasn’t it at all. He stopped visiting. He stopped paying attention to you. He stopped seemingly seeing you at all. To protect yourself, you began to pull away. You thought he would notice, but once threshing passed, it all seemed to be over. Xaden told you that he was just figuring things out due to the mating bond between Sgaeyl and Tairn and his life now being tethered to Violet’s, but it seemed there were more to things.

At that point, you had decided you’d pull back from everyone and see what changed. One night in December, you decided some fresh air was needed and that’s when your heart broke. There he was kissing her. His hands in her hair and pushing her up against a wall. You couldn’t believe the brokenness you felt. He couldn’t even come to you first and end things before moving on. The feelings of worthlessness and nothingness were enveloping you again. Watching the person that had driven those feelings from you drove the despair in deep and fast. The thought that the man you had picked you up from broken pieces could toss you aside so fast was the most heartbreaking thing you had ever experienced. From there on you knew that there was no going back, your relationship was done, and you were done pretending.

The next day, you couldn’t even look anyone in the eye. At breakfast Bodhi and Garrick both asked if you were ok, but you brushed them off and went to class. During class, Eya and Imogen tried to talk, but you just ignored them. Even though you weren’t a marked one, most all your friends were. You knew that since Xaden would never be abandoned, you would now be pushing them all away as well.

Being that Xaden seemed always busy with leadership, the revolution, and now Violet, it seemed you didn’t even have to have “the talk”. At least that is what you were hoping, until one day in January, he showed up at your door. You opened it a crack to see him standing there looking at you expectantly.

“I have nothing to say to you, Xaden.” You told him with a cold certainty.

He looked at you questioningly. You noticed the fight in his eyes, the only place he ever showed his emotions.

“I don’t want to fight with you about this, us, or whatever we were to each other. I know you’ve moved on and I would appreciate it if you would let me do the same.” You said. With that, you shut the door on him and slammed your face in your pillow.

‘It’s ok to protect your heart, Stormy One. I could always maim him in a place that would not anger Sgaeyl.' Cedri states.

‘Thanks for the offer, Cedri, but I’m not sure that would help.’

You were lucky that your dragon, though being a curmudgeon at times, always knew when to push you or comfort. Cedri was always there to bolster you in times of doubt and fear.

The next day, things seemed to change. Imogen, Eya, and even Soleil seemed to distance themselves from you. You didn’t mind, it seemed to make the process of moving on to pick up the pieces easier. It only seemed that they boys didn’t get the memo.

It was obvious that Xaden must have said something, as Garrick seemed to keep staring at you from the leadership table at breakfast. And it was on the way out from breakfast that Bodhi came up to you and asked if he could walk you to class. Due to the overwhelming exhaustion of your own feelings, you just said ok and let him walk you in silence. The most unusual part of the day came when Liam came up to you during dinner and asked if he could sit with you and your squad.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on guard duty, Mairi?” you asked with a look of pure confusion on your face.

“Well, yes. But I was hoping that maybe I could convince you to sit at our table.” He looked with a sheepish grin.

“Thanks, Liam. I think I’ll have to pass on that one.” How could he think that you would want to be anywhere near the girl that took your world away?

He walked away seemingly saddened by your answer, but you just stared back at him in disbelief.

It didn’t make sense that now they all seemed to be interested in what you were doing. You knew that Xaden would have told them what happened, well Garrick at least. Garrick would’ve informed the others.

The next few weeks passed by uneventfully enough. Your world seemed to find a new rhythm now that you had distanced yourself from your marked friends. You started spending more time with your three other squad mates and the change didn’t go unnoticed.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why have you started hanging out with us so much?” asked Nico pointing around the table between himself, Kai, and Iona.

You shrugged your shoulders and said, “Is that not ok?”

“Of course, its ok!” Nico said. “We are all glad you are, but just really wanted to check that everything was alright. You seem to be shutting your other friends out.”

You let out a huff of a laugh and slowly shake your head. “Yeah, that happens when you find out someone cheated on you and then don’t come to you about it.”

Nico looks at you with eyes wide in surprise. Everyone knew that you were in a relationship of sorts, but no one knew who it was with.

“Well if we need to bury a body, you just have to say the words.”

And with that you break out into fits of laughter, the first in months and you can feel four pairs of eyes on your back.

As the weeks passed, you started to get into a new rhythm. You found new sparring partners, friends, and even went on a few dates. You didn’t miss the glances from the boys when they thought you weren’t looking. But the thing that you couldn’t understand was why Xaden would ever be looking.

You were in the middle of studying in the commons with Kai and felt his eyes before even meeting his gaze. The thing that surprised you most was the flash of sadness and, was that jealousy, that crossed his face. You shook your head knowing that you must have dreamt those looks and went back to your books. But that didn’t help the thoughts from swirling.

Why would he be sad? He seemed to have a shiny, new obsession, why would he care what you were doing?

‘Maybe things aren’t really what they seem.’ Cedri states.

‘That may be true, but how would I know when no one has said anything otherwise.’ You retort.

The next few days seemed to drag, but you found yourself feeling lighter than you had in a while. You started getting up for morning runs in the past few days and that seemed to help your mood improve. That was until a week later; you saw Bodhi standing at the wall out of the citadel on your way there for a run.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this morning visit Bodhi?” you question.

“I just wanted to see if we could talk, maybe hang out later? Things have been weird lately between you and everyone and I just wanted to see what was going on.” He explains.

“Did someone put you up to this?”

“No.” He says resolutely with a furrow in his brow. “I just miss hanging out with you and talking. We’ve been friends since we entered this hellhole and I just want to continue that.”

“Fine, we can talk later. Want to meet down by the river after classes today? I could use some fresh air away from the quadrant.”

“Sure, I’ll see you down there.” He says and walks back towards the academic building.

‘If he tries to hurt you, I will make sure Cuir does not have a good evening.’

‘I don’t think that’s Bodhi’s plan, but I know you’ll be there to make sure.’

‘Of course, you do not think I would leave you with those humans after the hurt they’ve inflicted recently.’

‘I would never expect anything less.’

You can hear your dragon ‘harumph’ in a sigh at your confidence.

[steddieas-shegoes]

“any regrets? anything you’d do differently?”

eddie knows the interviewer is just doing her job, probably doesn’t even realize that’s the worst question she could ask. but the guys tense and the air gets thick and something shifts inside eddie’s chest.

“it’s been two years and i still haven’t apologized.”

the interviewer doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but she doesn’t need to. he’s not gonna explain more than that and he doesn’t care if people make their own connections and excuses.

maybe steve will hear it. maybe robin will. maybe dustin will convince steve to call him.

or maybe he was cryptic for nothing and steve will keep ignoring his calls. he used to think his timing sucked until mike let it slip that he lets all calls go to his answering machine to avoid picking up when eddie calls him.

eddie only calls on bad nights, if he’s drunk or high, or sometimes on the nights that could only be better if steve was by his side. eddie calls most nights.

the interview is done and eddie is being whisked away, getting berated by their publicist about his answer to a question that can never have a good one. the guys are pretending not to listen, but failing. eddie loves them for trying.

the next interview, he stays quiet, at least as much as he can get away with. he fakes a smile, a laugh, whatever it takes to seem like he didn’t just admit that he fucked up on live television.

they get to sleep in their own beds tonight, but tomorrow is the start of their radio show tour to promote their album. it’ll be two weeks long, hitting the major stations daily until they’ve answered all the hard hitting questions like if gareth snores or if they ever find time to eat healthy on tour.

but his bed is his least favorite place to sleep, and no amount of tossing and turning is gonna give him what he needs.

so he calls steve.

“harrington’s house, you’ve reached the harrington who actually lives here.”

eddie’s so shocked that steve answered he barely even registers his words.

“hello?” steve’s voice turns serious. “anyone there?”

“stevie?”

eddie shouldn’t have started with that, but he wasn’t in control of his body anymore.

steve hangs up.

somehow it’s worse than if he hadn’t answered at all.

but eddie is fine. he is.

he’s gonna close his eyes and go to sleep and maybe not dream about dying or fucking up the only good thing he ever had.

his phone rings and he’s almost certain he’s dreaming already.

“hello?”

“sorry i panicked.”

steve’s voice is like a reverb in an arena, sending chills down eddie’s arms.

“you’re not the only one.”

“but…you called me.”

“because you never answer.”

“so why call? if i’m never gonna answer.”

“because if you do answer, i can hear your voice.”

steve sits with that answer for a minute before he speaks.

“dustin played me the interview.”

“yeah.”

“was it me? was i your regret?”

how could steve think that? how could the man who saved his life ever believe he was anything less than a gift? in no universe would eddie regret steve.

“no. my regret is making you ever think that you could be a mistake.”

eddie should end it there, let steve marinate with that. he knows no amount of apologies will actually help, but he could give it a try anyway.

“i’m sorry i left when you needed me. i’m sorry i was selfish and chose to get out and leave you behind. and i’m sorry none of my sorries even matter because it’s too late.”

for a minute—yes, eddie counts— there’s silence. and then there’s a small shuffling sound and eddie’s almost sure that steve’s gonna hang up.

instead, steve sounds like he’s holding back tears when he speaks.

“are you gonna come back?”

eddie can’t. he can’t just put a pause on the band or any of their plans. it’s not fair to the guys or the fans or himself.

but he can do something he should’ve done two years ago.

“will you come with me?”

the question hangs in the air for what feels like forever. steve may say no. that’s part of why eddie didn’t even ask the first time. but he may say-

“yes.”

“you will?”

“on one condition.”

“anything.”

“you stop trying to forget all the bad parts. the bad parts sucked, but they brought us together. running from them means running from me. at least hold my hand so i can run with you.”

eddie thinks maybe he could write a song about that.

and he thinks he’d like to hold steve’s hand while he does.

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale, misogyny and the female character treatment

I don't know if anyone wrote a post about this but I see from time to time comments to this end - that Aziraphale is treated like the female leads in films often are, obviously especially romantic films. So I'm gonna try to point how I see this. I welcome further insights of course.

Say we take a basic premise of a romantic film: A girl is wooed by a bad boy for example. And she is a good girl, from a good, proper family and everything so she refuses his advances. This goes on through his various ploys to entertain and romance her, do things for her etc etc and frustrates us as the audience because we can see the bad boy is actually good, her family is oppressive and holding her back and that she (deep down) cares for him (if only she was brave enough to admit it to herself) and so we want her to open her eyes and say she is actually in love with him cos her life will be so much better should she (finally) give in and run away with him.

Familiar? Reasons Aziraphale is not her and the analogy does not fit (but that I so often see in metas and takes about her):

Aziraphale always knew her family is shit. Or at least longer than Crowley did. She was already anxious in Before the Beginning about what she thought Angel!Crowley could and could not say or do without getting into trouble.

She knows Crowley is good. She never doubted him. Whatever he says or does or pretends to do or must do for his job. Aziraphale knows he's inherently good and would always do good if he can.

She knows she's in love - I mean we can argue about when each realised this and also when each realised the other loves them back just as fiercely, but they both know. And they both love. And they both long to be together. Aziraphale is not ashamed of her feelings nor hiding or suppressing them for fear they are wrong or immoral or other BS like that.

Aziraphale doesn't need to overcome her love for her family/employer and finally make the leap to be with Crowley. They simply can't leave their bosses without punishment. Neither of them. They live in a dictatorship with nowhere to go. And just because Crowley experienced both sides, doesn't give him some huge insight that Aziraphale completely lacks. Both places are awful. Their separation isn’t about fear of societal judgment (or Aziraphale's unwillingness to give up Heaven, being seen as good, being an angel - and to what end, to Fall? I really don't know what takes like this want from her, it would not work anyway), it’s about survival in a system that won’t let them be together.

Aziraphale doesn't want to change Crowley. She never did. She asked for Crowley to come to Heaven as an angel because that was THE ONLY option she had for them to be together in any capacity at that point. It was NOT an attempt to “fix” him—it was a desperate bid for a way they could be together at all.

One thing I don't see as much anymore is the call for Aziraphale to change. Obviously she's pretty but she would be prettier if she lost those century old clothes maybe and started listening to something made after 1950? Be more cool to match Crowley? Less stuffy?

These kind of film premises are already pointless, offensive and make me roll my eyes, but to stick them all over Aziraphale and huff cos she doesn't do what the clever sexy man in dark clothes and sunglasses says she should - well that makes me angry.

And so do takes and mischaracterisations that ignore Aziraphale as silly, her worries as pointless, sometimes excessive - maybe she's just hysterical, you know? The one time she shows more emotion, in F15, she is so often completely ignored in her obvious distress just because Crowley is trying to confess his love at the same time and seemingly 'not getting through,' because Aziraphale is not reacting the way everyone expects. So many takes that always assume Crowley is right, no matter what. Even when he calls Aziraphale an idiot. If Crowley says that, it must be true. No matter that the book spells out in Terry's voice that the angel is extremely clever.

Aziraphale’s charm lies in her kindness, her love for books and knowledge, her whimsy, and her quiet courage. These qualities don’t make her naive—they make her resilient. She often hides how she truly feels, hides her grief, her pain, her true desires, hides what she really thinks; always always to protect herself and her beloved. She is often forced to say stuff she doesn't mean. Again. To keep the one she loves and their fragile relationship safe. But where people seem to catch on with that on Crowley's side, they don't with Aziraphale. She is fierce when pushed and will defend the defenceless (humans) and the ones she loves (Crowley) to her last breath (whether she needs to breathe is irrelevant right now okay).

She loves her bookshop. She built this home, full of knowledge for herself and her demon and you can take this HC from my cold hands. That she was forced to leave it, only emphasises how little choice she had in Final 15. Good Omens has two main, equal characters; who are both gorgeous and complex and deep and neither is right or wrong or in need of saving or learning some huge lesson to get to their goal and be together. What needs to change is the world, the system they live in. And they will change it. P.S. Just to add, many, many (if not all) bad takes on Aziraphale are also bad takes on Crowley. They mischaracterise and misunderstand just how deeply and unconditionally he loves Aziraphale. How he adores her and understands and accepts her just as she is. He does not expect or want Aziraphale to change in any way. He knows why they are not together. And it's not Aziraphale's fault, it's because of circumstances, not because of her choices. Crowley would never ever want Aziraphale to suffer, he wouldn't expect her to come back from Heaven saying how sorry she is for what happened, how stupid and blind she was and how he was always right. That's just not going to happen. ------------------------------------------ @tenok I simply must highlight the awesomeness you put in hashtags!! EVERYBODY please read:

Thank you sm for this!!

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 17

Summary: You're finally back in Westview.

It’s your last shift at Romanoff Medical Center and everyone’s trying to act normal.

But then Yelena is rushing past you into a conference room, and Lorne is nowhere to be found even though he always insists on greeting you with a song.

“Hey, Y/N, could you help me review some post ops over here?” Yelena asks at one point and you play dumb.

If they’re going to ignore your no party request, the least you can do is have fun with it.

“I haven’t had lunch. Let’s do it at the cafeteria”

“No, it will only take a minute” the blonde insists and you smile, pretending to think about it.

“Alright, then”

When everyone screams “Surprise!” you pretend to be, knowing Wanda would want you to be polite.

“Cut the cake, come on” Yelena insists and after the first bite your mood changes instantly.

“Holy crap, this is delicious. Thanks, guys”

“So predictable. I knew the way to you was through your stomach. Speaking of which”

She hands over a card that has an intestine drawn and the words “We’ll miss you, don’t forGUT about us”

“Get it? Gut, as in your insides…” Lorne explains and you nod, hoping he shuts up.

“Yeah, seemed obvious to me, thanks”

Everyone’s asking about your plans and you try to dodge the questions. Your plan is to get on a plane back to Westview and hope for the best. Carol’s wedding seems like a safe enough topic, as everyone loves a party.

“Hey, I thought it was someone’s birthday” Val greets you.

“You made it! You are here for my party, right?”

“Yelena mentioned it. But, could I talk to you for a minute?” she gestures towards the hall and you follow her, a plate full of cake in your hands. “So, I have good news. The program wants you”

“Really?”

“They’d like it more if you agreed to move right away, but two months this summer is a compromise they’re willing to take. Not a lot of people request to go to Sokovia specifically”

“Ok, that’s awesome. Can you send me the details? I need to organize everything” you begin to think about flights, accommodation…

“And tell your girlfriend” Val reminds you.

“Oh, yeah. That”

Hey, babe. Wanna move back to your home country for the summer?

“Take it one step at a time, Y/N. And it was lovely meeting you” Val says, surprising you with a hug. She didn’t seem like the type to hug at all.

“You don’t want any cake?”

“Eat a slice for me”

“I can definitely do that” you mutter as she walks away. By God, it’s delicious.

More people go in and out of the conference room to say goodbye and you appreciate all their kind words. It’s a little overwhelming, as you honestly didn’t think anyone even noticed you around.

“Natasha’s not coming?” you ask Yelena, and the blonde shrugs her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I told her but you know how she is”

“No, I get it” you nod, trying to be casual about it.

The Romanoff that does stop by is Melina, who is on her way to a conference in Milan.

“Just wanted to wish you the best in your next adventure, whatever that is”

“I was considering stand up comedian” you joke, offering her cake. She turns it down with a polite gesture. “I’ve been told I have a funny bone…”

“Stick to medicine, darling” she cuts you off, making you laugh. “Before I leave, I need you to review your separation agreement and severance, just to make sure it’s all ok”

You nod, taking the piece of paper she’s offering.

“Uh, there’s definitely an extra zero there” you say, eyes open wide.

“I must insist. Save it for your time in Sokovia”

“You know about that, huh?” you chuckle.

“Of course. I’m part of the NGO’s board” Melina says, smiling. “Don’t be a stranger. You’ll always have a place here if you want to come back”

“Thank you” you say, and Melina nods. “I just… want to say I admire you, not just the research you do, but for giving back to the community. I see it and a lot of people in this hospital see it too, I hope you know that, Doctor Romanoff”

“Mama, it looks like you want to cry” Yelena chimes in and you roll your eyes. Melina laughs, asking her daughter to walk with her to the exit.

You’re left alone with Lorne, who is removing the decorations. You help him for a bit, working in silence until he sobs loudly.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Doctor Y/L/N”

“Ah, jeez” you say, hoping he doesn’t hug you. “It’s alright. Sharon is great. You’ll love working with her. Go check on my post ops, that will cheer you up”

It’s a quiet shift, which you appreciate. Yelena spends the rest of the day glued to your side, until it’s time to go back and pack the last of your things.

“Don’t be a stranger” the blonde says, looking everywhere but you.

“Yel, we’re seeing each other for Carol’s wedding. You don’t think Kate already told Darcy you’re her plus one?”

“She’s so bad at keeping secrets”

“Come here” you pull her for a hug. You’re gonna miss her, truly. And you hope there was something you could do to stay here, but you made a choice and your family comes first. “Don’t wanna be corny, but I care a lot about you, kiddo”

“I know” she says against your shoulder, hugging you before letting go. Yelena wipes her eyes and smiles. “See ya soon”

The penthouse feels a little empty, and the view from the terrace is gloomy, the clouds making it seem sad. It’s not like you have a lot of stuff to pack, only the clothes you bought when you got here, some shoes and scrubs. Everything else is either at Wanda’s or it was already here.

With a final look at the place, you close the door and go down the elevator one last time. As you’re about to step out the building and ask for a cab, someone pulls over.

“Need a ride?” Natasha says, opening the door of her car for you.

“Hey, stranger”

“You didn’t think I’d let you go without saying goodbye, did you?”

“Well, honestly? I did. You missed my farewell party”

“That’s because I knew someone would cry and it makes me uncomfortable” she explains, driving straight to the airport. “Got everything you need?”

“I think so, yeah” you nod. “I’m excited and terrified. I feel like everything will be the same and at the same point, nothing will, ya know?”

“Yeah I get it. You’ll be fine, though” she assures you, smiling.

The conversation flows easily, and you briefly mention your summer plans. She smirks, and you slap her arm.

“What are you laughing at?”

“See? I was never the problem. You’re more than capable of finding ways to piss off Wanda by yourself”

“Is it so bad to travel across the world to help others?”

“I’m just teasing” she laughs, though you know there’s some truth behind it.

Honestly, you’re 50/50 regarding Wanda’s reaction. Maybe she’ll be excited, and maybe she’ll throw something at you, lecturing you about making big decisions together.

“Alright, we’re here” Natasha says, pulling over. She helps with your suitcase, lingering for a bit as you get everything ready. You confirm you have everything with a nod, and your eyes meet hers.

“Nat…”

“I know” she says, pulling you in for a hug.

“Don’t be a stranger, please? At least text me once every month” you say.

“I’ll try my best. Take care, Y/N”

“You too” you wave one last time before walking to the airport.

When you’re finally on the plane, and you look out the window, the buildings of the city turn into nothing more than memories.

Time to go back home.

—

The air is cleaner, and so are the skies. That’s the first thing you notice as you step outside. The airport is so small compared to the one in Boston, and you don’t have to walk a lot to find Carol waiting for you.

“If it isn’t my runaway bridesmaid” she jokes and you smile, running to hug her.

“I’m back! I’m sorry. Do I still get to plan the bridal shower?”

“Maybe, we’re still wondering if it’s a good idea to get half the hospital drunk” she jokes. “Is that all you got?”

“Yeah” you hand over your suitcase, and you drive back to the hospital.

“So, how’s Wanda?” she gets right to it.

“Good. We’re working things out but taking it slow. I thought it might be a bit rushed to move right back in so I’ll stay with Darcy until I can find a place”

“Very mature and sensible” Carol nods. “I’m happy the time apart was good for you two. Like me and Maria”

“How’s the future Mrs. Danvers?”

“Stressed, but managing. Plus we’re thinking about trying for a kid so…” Carol mentions and you all but scream.

“A little troublemaker! They’re gonna be so cute”

You keep updating each other on things here and there, and when you finally get to the hospital, you stand outside for a minute to take it in.

It doesn’t feel wrong to be back. You’ve been through these doors more times than you can count. You know the people who work here; they’ve had your back and you have theirs.

Apart from the time you quit on the spot, of course.

With a sigh, you decide it’s time to face Fury. Carol wishes you luck and you agree to meet later for the final dress fitting.

His secretary does a doble take when you request to see him, and she hurries to his door.

“It’s Doctor Y/L/N”

“Well, it’s a miracle” Fury exclaims. You rub the back of your neck and walk in his office, smiling like an idiot.

“Hey… how’s it going?”

“Understaffed. Can I help you? Or did Romanoff send you to steal another head of department?”

“Uh, no… I came to request a job interview. Since you’re understaffed”

Fury leans back on his seat, crossing his arms.

“Well, the position of Head of Trauma is…”

You hear a commotion outside, and Darcy screaming for people to move out of the way.

“Hi, good morning” she straightens her glasses. “I quit” she turns around but comes back a second later. “Just to clarify. I’m still the Head of General Surgery. I quit as Head of Trauma. Thanks. See you in the cafeteria, Cujo”

“Nah, come here…” you pull her in for a hug, and are surprised to feel Darcy returning the gesture. “I missed you”

“Excuse me” she says, hiding her tears and walking away. You want to follow her but Fury clears his throat and you turn back to look at him.

“As I was saying… the position is currently open. But I’m looking for someone who will stay. And not quit on a whim, and leave her people high and dry. Can you be that person?”

“Yes, sir. Oh, except I’m going to Sokovia in the summer for a couple of months”

“If I wasn’t bald already… I’d definitely be thanks to you” he sighs, massaging his temples.

“Hey, I’ll find someone who can cover for me, that’s a promise” you raise your hand. “Scout’s honor”

“Fine. Go to HR and get the paperwork started. Welcome back, Doctor Y/L/N”

“Thanks, sir. It’s good to be home”

People greet you in the hallway and you smile, excited to catch up with everyone. Ana, the woman from HR is not so thrilled about you.

“Coming or going?” she asks, and you laugh awkwardly.

“Oh, coming back to my old position. Fury told me to get an updated ID”

“Uh-hu” the woman eyes you up and down.

After the paperwork hassle, you walk around the hospital. There’s a couple of signs in the board and you read them, taking an interest in one that’s looking for a roomate.

For more information, call James Barnes.

You take the ad and run to the ER, finding Bucky working on setting up an IV.

“Welcome back” he says with a smile you’ve only seen twice.

“Thanks. Now, about that room you’re renting”

—

“You’re gonna be roommates with my nemesis?” Darcy says as you drive to Wanda’s house.

Wanda was busy during the day but organized an early dinner with her family and some of your friends to welcome you back.

“Barnes is not your nemesis. You are coworkers, Darcy. Plus, you hate it when you have to share space with other people. I remember what it was like in college”

“Well, that’s true. I just don’t believe Wanda will let you sleep anywhere else”

“It’s for the best. I can’t go from living alone for the past three months to a full house again”

She’s about to say something when you cut off another driver, going faster while he honks at you.

“Damn, is she waiting for you naked? Why are you driving like a lunatic?” Darcy says, holding on to the dashboard.

“Oh, sorry” you immediately slow down. “Got used to driving in a bigger city”

Pietro is the one that opens the door when you knock (it feels weird to just walk in like you own the place). He stares at you and you think he’s getting ready for another shovel talk when he smiles, hugging you.

“Wow, careful” you say when he lifts you in the air.

“I’m a lot better now, sestra. Welcome back”

“It’s good to be back”

The minute you walk in, the kids run up to you and you lift them over your shoulders, Sparky running around and jumping up and down to make you notice him.

“My little velociraptors! Hey, Sparky!”

The party is bigger than you expected. The Bartons are there, as well as Agatha, Rio and Mrs. Davies. You walk into the backyard where there’s a large table and people begin to walk over to welcome you.

“Hey, hot stuff, you got buff. Rio, come over here, feel those muscles” Agatha says, squeezing your arm. Rio smirks, biting her lip as she joins her girlfriend. They share a look and you feel like this is a kink of theirs.

Clint comes over to save you.

“Looked like you could use some help”

“Uh, yeah. I feel dirty. Thanks, man”

“Good to have you back”

Laura joins you, asking about Lily, who happens to be a friend of hers from college and you also talk about Wendy.

When the kids call for her, you smile and walk in the direction of a woman who has interacted with everyone, but stays in the back.

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff. It’s nice to finally meet you”

“How did you know?”

“Well, you have the same eyes as Wanda. And you scrunch up your nose the same way when you smile. That’s top of my head, I could mention like ten other things I noticed”

“Very observant”

“When it comes to Wanda, yes”

“I’ve heard a lot about you” the woman smiles.

“I’m afraid not all of it has been good. I wish I hadn’t cause so much trouble when I left” you sigh, knowing there’s no point in pretending you didn’t screw up.

“Relationships are complicated. What matters is how much work you want to put into it” she looks at you sternly and you nod. Her eyes divert to a spot over your shoulder and she smiles. “I believe my daughter’s waiting for you”

“What?” you turn to look behind you, forgetting everything as soon as your eyes meet Wanda’s.

She’s in a beautiful green dress that brings out her eyes, smiling at you as you walk up to her.

“Welcome ho…” she begins to say but your lips interrupt her. Your hands cup her face gently as you kiss her, and she covers them with hers, giving you a light squeeze. “As I was saying, welcome home”

“I missed you” you whisper against her lips. “I’m never leaving again, ever”

“Good to know” she smiles at you, taking you back to chat with everyone.

Pretty soon you all grab plates and help yourselves to the food. There’s chicken pie, meatloaf, and some cake.

“Mrs. Maximoff, the chkmeruli is amazing. Did you use adjika?” you say, enjoying the taste. It’s so damn good.

“Yes. How did you…?” she says, impressed.

“Well, I know Wanda had trouble finding a store that sold it here. But I found some of it in Boston and tried to cook with it. It makes all the difference”

“Ok, Barefoot Contessa” Darcy mutters and you elbow her side, chuckling.

“Well, this isn’t store bought. I made it from scratch” Wanda’s mother announces proudly.

“No way, would you teach me?” you ask. “I was thinking about using it with fried potatoes or some other stuff too”

“I’d be happy to” the woman nods, and then looks at her daughter. She speaks in Sokovian, and Wanda blushes.

“Mama!”

“What? What did she say?” Darcy asks, and you look between Wanda and her mother.

“She said that Wanda better marry that girl”

Clint whistles, while Laura laughs and you blush.

“No, she didn’t, that’s a lie” Wanda throws a piece of bread to Pietro, but he catches it and puts it in his mouth, smiling proudly.

“Well, babe. I’d listen to your mother” you smile.

Wanda rolls her eyes, but everytime you lock eyes for the rest of the night, you can tell she’s happy that her mother liked you.

Well, maybe when you ask her blessing to propose to Wanda she’ll say yes.

—

Everyone’s gone, the twins are in bed and Ekaterina has also left for the day.

It’s just you and Wanda in the kitchen, saving stuff in the fridge and loading the dishwasher.

“Thanks for throwing a party. You didn’t have to, baby”

“Everyone was looking forward to seeing you. Now we got that out of the way and I can have you all to myself” she smiles, her hands going around your waist.

“Oh, and why would you want me for yourself only, Miss Maximoff? Anything comes to mind?”

“A couple of things” she smiles, kissing you.

You moan against her mouth when her teeth play with your bottom lip.

“Well, I’m down as long as there’s more of that”

“Then come to bed”

“I should go”

“Stay” she asks. “All your stuff is here, and I know you found that apartment already. I’ll help you take your stuff tomorrow”

“You sure?”

“If it were up to me, you would have moved back here already, detka”

“Well, if it were up to your mother we’d be married” you joke as you go up the stairs. Wanda laughs, pulling you inside her bedroom. You take off your clothes, deciding to sleep in your underwear.

Wanda comes out of the master bathroom wearing one of your t-shirts.

“What a view” you say, pulling her down to your lap. “Better than any penthouse in the world”

“Mhm. I missed you in our bed. I got so lonely, and I… well, someone else slept here for a while” she sighs, looking away. You frown, searching for her eyes. Wanda keeps talking, refusing to look at you. “He was fine, it was just weird with all his hair and a different smell. But nothing happened, we just cuddled, you have to believe me”

“You’re talking about that damn dog, aren’t ya?” you say, because if she isn’t, you’re going to find the bastard that slept with Wanda and kill him.

“Well, I…” Wanda turns to look at you, and her lip quivers. A second later, she’s laughing so loud she has to cover her mouth. “Yes. I’m sorry, you should have seen your face”

“You’ll pay for this” you say, flipping her on her back and tickling her sides. Wanda shrieks, laughing as she apologizes over and over again.

—

“Strip club”

“For a bridal shower? Groundbreaking” Darcy mocks you, without looking up from the charts she’s reading.

“Fine, you propose something!”

It’s not like there are a lot of things you can do. You know Maria and Carol love sports but you really can’t imagine going to a game and then calling it a great party.

It’s supposed to be fun and memorable and something that you wouldn’t normally do.

“I’m proposing we get drunk, that’s it”

“How about a drag show? That’s fun and very queer of us”

“Maybe. That would be fun” Darcy thinks about it for a moment. “I’ll run it by Carol and let you know”

“Hey, I’m the maid of honor, I should be the one asking her”

“You were demoted when you left” Darcy blows you a kiss, and slams the door behind her. That’s probably a lie, but she’ll make sure Carol hears her out before you can even mention the strip club idea.

Kate comes over to ask for some help, and by the time your shift ends, Wanda’s waiting at the front desk.

“Hey, baby” Wanda greets when you meet her. You kiss her and as you pull back, Darcy walks by, looking annoyed.

“Carol wants to go to the strip club, so your idea wins. Hope you’re happy”

“Strip club?” Wanda turns to look at you, tilting her head.

“You’re an ass, Lewis. It wasn’t my idea. I mean, it was, but I just mentioned it could be something to do” you stutter when your friend leaves and you’re left alone with Wanda.

“Mhm. Might have to go with you to make sure no one touches what’s mine”

“Considering what happened last time we were at a club, I’m not opposed to the idea” you say, remembering how hot it was to have Wanda all over you.

“We’ll see” she promises, kissing the spot in your jaw that always makes you agree to anything. “Now let’s go, the kids are waiting for us”

As soon as you had a free afternoon, you wanted to join soccer practice, mainly to make sure Bitchard knew you were back and he’d think it twice before messing with Wanda.

“There he is” you mutter when you get out of the car, walking to open the passenger door for your girlfriend. Wanda follows your eyes and then scoffs.

“So that’s why you wanted to come along. Honestly, I didn’t even pay attention when he asked me out”

“He did what?”

“I told you”

“You did not”

“Well, I… what are you doing?” she says when you corner her against the car, your hands on her waist. “We’re in public”

“Did he try anything else?” you say against her lips. “Answer me, Wanda”

“N-no”

“Well, good. Let’s hope after today he gets the message loud and clear”

“Trust me, I made sure of that” Wanda tries to push past you, but your hands keep her in place, your grip so strong it makes her knees weak.

“Who do you belong to, baby? Come on, be a good girl, I wanna hear you say it”

“You, I’m yours. You know it”

“I just like to remind you, that’s all. Now, let’s go” you finally set her free, and Wanda misses the feeling of your body pressed against her. She’s going to have trouble focusing on the game now.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you” Sharon winks at you the minute you join the rest of the parents.

“Oh, yeah. I’m back for good, though. Missed me?” you joke, knowing it will upset your girlfriend.

“Yes, and those extra muscles suit you very well” she looks ready to squeeze your bicep, but Wanda clears her throat, standing by your side. You wave at Tommy and Billy, who finally agreed to go back to practice on the condition that you train together whenever you’re free.

“Hey, how about a friendly competition between parents? Losing team pays for ice cream” Coach Hill says when an ice cream truck approaches, making all the kids distracted. They’re definitely not playing when they could be having a sweet treat.

“Yeah, I’m in” you say, stepping into the field. Of course, Bitchard is next and you turn to Maria. “Not playing on his team, though”

“That’s fine. You’re both captains of your teams”

A couple of parents join you and Dickhead picks some other people for his team. You’re surprised when Sharon’s the last joining you.

“Let’s get their asses”

To your delight, Richard decides to be the goalie for his team, so you choose the forward position. With some luck you’ll manage to get the ball right in his fucking face.

Coach Hill starts the game with her whistle and the ball is quickly on your teammates side. To your surprise, Sharon is a master dribbler and she runs past most of the men, kicking the ball towards you.

You make it seem like you’ll aim for the left corner and when Dick falls into the trap, you easily kick the ball in the opposite direction.

“1-0. First to score three goals wins” Maria announces.

The game gets so good that even the truck driver parks to watch it. You have to work a bit harder to get to the second goal but by the time you do, you’re out of breath. You lift your t-shirt to wipe the sweat off your face, missing the way Wanda’s eyes darken at the sight before her.

“Sharon, the ball” you scream at her. Apparently, she got distracted too and now you have to run a bit faster to catch up and intercept it.

Still, you score, making it 2-0.

The last goal is super easy, except Bitchard slips and then looks at Hill, whining like a baby.

“That was definitely offside”

“No, it wasn’t” you challenge. “Might wanna have your eyesight checked”

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell your girlfriend to come over and check it for me?”

“I’m going to kill you” you announce, walking towards him.

“Hey, hey. Set an example for the kids” Hill says, standing between the two of you. “It was an offside, not that anyone cares because this is soccer practice for ten year olds… but if it makes you so upset”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Don’t want tiny dick’s to fall off for a technicality” you smile, turning back. “I’m getting that goal either way”

And you do, faster than expected. With a slide, you take control of the ball and then kick it so hard it lands on Richard’s stomach, pushing him against the net. He falls on his back, out of breath.

“Congrats, now how about a friendly handshake to finish this?” Hill proposes, hoping you don’t try to punch the man while he’s already down.

Instead you extend your hand to help him up and when he takes it, you pretend to hug him in a friendly manner, but squeezing his hand so hard he whines.

“If you ever mess with my family again, I will cut your tiny dick with a scalpel and make you choke on it, got it?” you whisper, changing your expression to a smile when you pull apart. You slap him playfully, smiling with a shit eating grin. “Good game, Dick. Now pay up”

The twins are talking non stop when you join them, giving them a thumbs up.

“Can you teach me to slide like that?” Tommy asks when you’re walking back to the car.

“Sure, kiddo. Some other time”

As they get in the car, Wanda stops you, smiling.

“So, all good? The murderous impulse is out of your system now?”

“Yeah, one last thing” you say, seeing as Richard’s arguing with the ice cream man. You approach them, handing over a 100 dollar bill.

“And you had the nerve to ask my girl out when you’re a cheap ass? Keep the change, man”

Wanda laughs as you walk back, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Now I’m done”

—

You’re in the kitchen, trying to write down everything Wanda’s mother tells you.

“It’s very salty” you comment when she offers you a taste of the adjika sauce.

“It should be, that’s what preserves it”

You nod, and keep following her instructions. Wanda walks around, trying to check what you’re doing, but her mother insists that you need your space to work.

“I wasn’t big on cooking before, guess she’s just curious if I’m making a mess in her kitchen” you explain, smiling.

“So, what do you provide to a household, if not cooking?” the woman says and you want to laugh at the formality of the question.

“Oh, I fix things. My dad taught me how to do a lot of stuff, since I was little. My stepdad too; whenever my mother was too tired to pretend she wanted me around she’d send me to work with him. But he was ok, he liked teaching me things”

“No child should feel like a burden to their parents” is all the woman says and you shrug your shoulders. “You have a sister, yes?”

“And a brother” you nod, smiling. “I was hoping to invite them over, Zach hasn’t met Wanda and the kids. Maybe before…”

You’re about to say before I go to Sokovia but you haven’t had the conversation with Wanda.

“Before…?” Ekaterina looks up, not missing a beat. Darcy was right, she’s very observant.

“Before Jenny goes to college” you half lie.

The two of you work in silence for a bit, but your mind keeps going back to their home country.

“So, can I ask about Sokovia? Wanda tells me some stuff about the food and the language but I’m wondering what is it like there now that the war is over”

“Well, the war is over. But there’s a lot of ruins and a lot to rebuild. No money to do it, and people who love their land. Most of them never left and the ones that did don’t really want to come back”

“Why did you? If I can ask”

“That’s where I met my husband, and where my kids were born, it’s the land that gave me everything I have ever loved. And no offense to you Americans but I could never understand some of your traditions”

“None taken. I don’t like some of them either. Especially from a doctor’s perspective, people get in the weirdest accidents when they’re lighting fireworks or carving pumpkins”

“Can I ask you something?” she says after a beat of silence. You nod, feeling nervous. “I know how you met my daughter and everything that happened between you two. Why do you think it’s different now?”

“Well. Let me start by saying I love your daughter very much. I love how kind and thoughtful she is, how much she loves the boys. I love how she knows exactly how to make someone feel welcomed and appreciated without even trying. I could go on and on for hours, Mrs. Maximoff”

“That’s very nice of you, but it’s not what I asked. I just want to make sure you won’t hurt her again”

You stop chopping vegetables and look at Ekaterina, sighing.

“I… I thought I wasn’t going to survive. She told me she was better off without me, and I took it to heart, leaving to try to move on. Boston was nice. I made friends, the work was very interesting. I could have built my life there. I realised I could survive, live a life without Wanda. But I just don’t want to. So that’s why I’m not leaving ever again. I choose to be here no matter what”

The woman stays silent for a moment, and then eyes you up and down.

“Very well” is all she says. You smile, knowing that’s the highest form of compliment you can get out of her.

Dinner is nice and the kids are eager to tell Pietro about the match between the parents.

“Maybe I’ll join next time” he says. “Now that my doctor has finally given his approval”

“That’s wonderful news” Ekaterina says.

“Good, it’s your turn to do my laundry for the next few months” Wanda says.

“I actually already found a place to stay. So I can give you two privacy. Yeah, you know the guy, Y/N. Barnes”

“Wait, I’m moving in with him”

“Ok, let’s cut the taking it slow bullshit” Pietro says, looking between you and Wanda.

“Language!” Wanda and her mother scold at the same time. You almost want to laugh at the identical frowns on their faces.

“Sorry, but Y/N, you’ve been back for a week and when you’re not working you sleep here” Pietro calls out, and he does have a point. “So, while I find a house of my own, you two can have some privacy”

“You’re staying in Westview?” Wanda asks.

“Yeah, I figured it’s time to settle” he shrugs his shoulders.

“That’s so cool! We can have sleepovers all the time” Tommy cheers and you smile as well.

“Yeah, sleepovers sound like a great idea” you mutter in Wanda’s direction. She elbows your side, knowing you’re thinking about all the alone time you could have if the boys stay with their uncle.

“Congratulations. A toast for new beginings” Ekaterina says.

You keep talking about Pietro’s plans and you agree to help him move his stuff. There’s also the subject of what to do now that his provisional room will be available again.

“Well, mom, you could move in there” Wanda proposes.

“I couldn't possibly leave Mrs. Davies. But now that you have a spare room, you could definitely consider turning it into a nursery” Ekaterina says casually, making you choke on your wine.

“Mom’s only teasing, detka” Wanda says, easing your nerves with a hand on your leg. “I already gave you two grandchildren, hassle Pietro about it”

“Well, unless he does it by mitosis, it might not happen anytime soon” you say, but no one laughs. “That joke would have killed in the hospital, just so ya’ll know”

“Here it only killed the mood” Pietro says.

“Ok, I take it back, I don’t want any more grandchildren, with the three of you I have enough kids to scold” Ekaterina says, making you laugh.

“Sorry” Pietro and you say at the same time.

“Three? What did I do? I’m just eating my dinner” Wanda protests, looking offended.

“Don’t get me started on all the things you did, malyshka”

“Oh, this is going to be good” you say, eager to learn more about teenage Wanda.

“Blasting her music, saying she wanted to be in an all girls band and tour the world instead of going to college”

“Stealing Papa’s car” Pietro chimes in and you gasp.

“Hey, you were there too!”

“Yeah, but it was your idea, remember? You wanted to go to that concert. Sneaked us in with fake IDs”

“You had fake IDs?” Ekaterina says, shocked.

“Children, how about you go get us ice cream?” Wanda interrupts her brother, looking ready to murder him.

“Even if we already had some today?”

“Yes, go crazy!” Wanda encourages them, breathing a sigh of relief when they’re gone. “Not fair, you guys. In front of Y/N too”

“No, I find you fascinating, my love” you laugh, taking her hand and kissing it.

“Blegh, I’m getting ice cream too” Pietro complains.

Ekaterina begins to pick up the dishes and Wanda helps her, insisting that you stay with the boys watching tv.

By the time it’s all done, Wanda calls the kids for bed.

“Detka, can you help mom set the dishwasher?”

“Yeah, sure thing”

You join Ekaterina in the kitchen, and she huffs and scoffs as you load it.

“Why can’t we just rinse them in the sink like normal people?”

“There. All done, Mrs. Maximoff” you smile at her, wiping your hands.

“You should call me Mom” she says, taking you by surprise.

“Uh, you sure? I mean, not even my own mother wanted me to call her that” you joke.

“Her loss. I insist”

“Alright. I’ll… try” you promise.

Ekaterina nods, looking at her watch.

“Oh, my. It’s time for The Price is Right. Mrs. Davies is waiting for me. Tell Wanda I’ll see her tomorrow”

“Yes, Mrs. Ma… Mom” you correct when the woman gives you a stern look. Another thing she shares with Wanda.

“Night”

“Goodnight” you say, smiling as she kisses Pietro’s cheeks.

Looks like you just got adopted by the Maximoff matriarch.

“Where’s mom?” Wanda says as she goes down the stairs.

“Oh, she was late for The Price is Right with Mrs. Davies” you say, smiling at her.

“Well, come to bed. I have to give you your prize for winning that match” she says, biting her lip.

“I knew I was going to score more than goals today” you smile, picking her up. Pietro overhears, groaning.

“I can’t wait to move out”

“Wear headphones, Maximoff. We’re getting loud” you say, making Wanda laugh as you go upstairs.

“I hate you both!”

[elllisaaa]

MR. POLICEMAN - C. SEUNGCHEOL

KINKTOBER DAY 14 - AGE DIFFERENCE

SUMMARY : "everybody knows that i'm a good girl, officer" is what you said to him when you got arrested for selling drugs. and despite seungcheol having a wife and kids, he can't help stumbling over his words when you ask to suck his cock in exchange for letting you go.

-> pairing : police officer!seungcheol x fem!reader

-> words count : 1.4k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : age difference (obviously), cheating, mention of drugs, oral (m. receiving), begging, dirty talk, deep throating, face fucking, cum eating, swearing, praising, hair pulling, dacraphylia, use of 'good girl'

+ the way i'm depicting seungcheol does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | svt masterlist | kinktober 2024

“- I didn’t even do anything !

- The marijuana we found in your apartment seems to tell otherwise. If you want advice, you should really confess. The judge is gonna be a lot more lenient if you do as I say.”

A pout formed on your face as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, turning your gaze away from the officer in front of you. If you found the little bastard that had reported you, he was not going to make it out alive, for sure. In your mind, you did nothing wrong. Drugs helped you relax and focus on your writing in a way that your normal state didn’t allow, what was the harm in that ? 

“- It’s not mine, I don’t know why it was there. Everybody knows that I’m a good girl officer.

- I hear these lies at least four times a day, Miss L/N. You should really tell me the truth if you want to avoid a serious sentence.”

But his words were going through one ear and out of the other, your eyes fixed on his face and his attractive features. You must admit that the man was handsome, and that his uniform was suiting him perfectly. He was obviously way older than you, and a framed photograph of his wife and two kids was sitting on his desk. But that wouldn’t deter you from the idea that had formed into your mind. You locked your doe eyes with his again, your crossed arms pushing your boobs together and making them almost spill out of your top. You tried to contain your smirk as the eyes of the officer flickered down to your chest - everything was going according to your plan.

“- Okay… I did have some weed, but it’s only for me and my friends, to relax, you know ? We did nothing wrong…”

You saw him gulp down as you leaned over his desk, hands pressed on the cold wood and your boobs now directly in his line of sight. It was impossible for him to ignore them as they were right in front of his face. But he looked away to his computer, trying to appear busy. Your own eyes roamed around the things scattered on his desk, catching his first name on one of the papers. 

“- Please, Officer Choi… I really don’t want to go to jail, can’t you help a girl who made a mistake ?”

Seungcheol should say no, he should frankly say that he could do nothing about it, that you must understand why you shouldn’t do it again. But the way your fingers were slowly crawling up his arm made his brain malfunction. 

“- I… I can’t do that. It’s illegal.”

It was as if he needed to mention the law because it was the only thing holding him back from giving in to your advances and letting you go. He felt guilty, the ring around his finger seemed like it was burning when he looked at your lips for a little too long. 

“- But, please, I swear I won’t do it again !

- That’s still illegal, there are laws for a reason.”

You pretended to think for a moment as your hand rested on his shoulder, like a reminder of how naughty all the things going through his head at that moment were. 

“- I’ll do whatever you want if you let me go, I can… Repay you in other ways…”

Seungcheol was so unprepared for your bold proposal that he barely even reacted when you dropped to your knees and crawled under his desk until you could settle in between his legs, looking up at him with your hands placed high on his thick thighs. 

“- Let me do something for you, yeah ? And I promise you’ll never hear from me ever again.

- You… Get up, I can't… I can’t let you do that.

- Please, you won’t regret it, I swear.”

Your sugary sweet voice, your big doe eyes and the way your palm was already rubbing against the bulge deforming his crotch were slowly making his resolve crumble. The uniform was only making him hotter, your eyes roaming around the way the muscles of his biceps tensed as he gripped the armrest of his desk chair, his jaw clenching as his gaze got darker. 

“- Please, Officer Choi… I’ll be good, I promise.”

All Seungcheol needed was one more of your begs in that whiny voice for him to give you the green light. A grin stretched out your lips as you pushed his uniform pants down enough to free his cock. You licked your lips at the appealing sight, his length heavy in your hands as you spat on him and started to stroke him at a quick pace, your eyes never leaving his. His lips were parted, his cheeks lightly dusted in pink, and his gaze was filled with lust as you stuck out your tongue to kitten-lick at his tip.

“- Fuck… Take it into your mouth.”

You smiled at him, your ego inflating because you did manage to make him completely give up on his morals. You didn’t make him wait any longer, pushing half of his hard cock in between your lips, slowly working on relaxing your throat enough to take him whole into your mouth. With every inch that met your eager tongue and your warmth, Seungchol's breath became more and more unheavy, the sight of you on your knees for him, doing your best to convince him when he still had the power to send you to prison was delicious. 

“- Shit… You feel so good…”

His praise made you moan around his cock just as his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag and drool even more. You knew that you could get him to let you go if you did good enough, you knew that by the time you would have made him cum, he was going to be unable to keep you there anymore. So you doubled your efforts, bobbing your head up and down as you looked up at the way his face contorted in pleasure, at the way his parted lips were letting out the prettiest groans. His hips bucked up into your mouth, making you whimper and gag again around him, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“- I’m gonna need more than that to let you go, angel. But if you let me fuck your tight, little throat, I might say yes.”

You hummed in approval, bringing one of his hands to the back of your head, letting him tangle his fingers in between your strands of hair. He hesitated for one second - one second that let you enough time to swirl your tongue around his cock in a way that made it impossible for him to hold back anymore. He put your hair up in a messy ponytail, tugging on it to force his cock to the hilt into your throat. The loud gagging noises you produced as he thrusted forward again and again were drowned out by his loud groans and grunts of your name. He shouldn't love what was happening right now, he shouldn't love the way he was bruising your throat, he shouldn't love the way tears were running down your face and ruining your mascara. He shouldn’t but he loved it, he loved it way more than he thought he would. 

Your nails were digging into his thick, muscular thighs as Seungcheol fucked your throat. You could feel his big cock throbbing against your tongue, could feel that he was close. And maybe you shouldn’t love how humiliating this all was, maybe you shouldn’t love the fact that you were about to make this married man cum into your mouth, maybe you shouldn’t love how rough he was, but you did. You did and it encouraged you to hollow your cheeks around him, giving him that last rush of pleasure he needed to shoot his load down your throat. You did your best to swallow his cum, letting go of his cock to take a deep breath. 

And then, you looked up at Seungcheol to find him already looking at you. His thumb came down to swipe up against your bottom lip, gathering the remains of his release to push them back into your mouth, groaning at the way you immediately sucked on his finger, cleaning it off his cum. He patted your cheek, covering it in your saliva.

“- You really are a good girl. You can go.”

Seungcheol made a promise to himself to never ever think about you again, even if your big doe eyes were haunting him day and night. But when he saw you sitting in his office, your hands handcuffed, only a few weeks later, with that same sultry smile and that same lust burning into your eyes, he quickly locked the door behind him, and he stopped thinking as soon as your lips made contact with his cock again.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

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[megapteraurelia]

EPITHIMIA. — talisman #2.

☾ SUMMARY; — having been sent up to tokyo as an exchange student to spy on the first-years, your objective had been crystal clear: don't meddle. don't change anything. just observe. you didn't expect fushiguro megumi to foil your plans that quickly — but it's not like you could help yourself, not when he refused to be someone you could respect. so, what else to do but meddle?

☾ WARNINGS; — fem!reader; enemies to lovers; forced proximity; attempted character study?? (badly done!!); angst; gojo being annoying; ppl being hypocritical!; kind of angsty yuji too; TW: mention of blood, death;

☾ WORD COUNT; — 20,458.

☾ AUTHOR'S NOTE; — i lied. there's no romance here because i'm stupid and i couldn't stop writing other scenes. there will be a part three (and if all goes well that SHOULD actually be the last part). also, frick action scenes! also had to sacrifice some of the aesthetics because i can only add 30 images oops

— back to masterlist.

15th of April; 07:22. — kugisaki nobara.

Fushiguro syndrome. — as coined by Kugisaki Nobara: part-time sorcerer, quarter-time model, quarter-time self-proclaimed doctor.

Definition. A rare but deeply annoying affliction characterised by excessive brooding, emotional constipation, and the compulsive need to shoulder the entire weight of the world whilst pretending it's fine. Symptomps. — saying 'I'm fine' while visibly not fine. — intense staring instead of talking. — going silent mid-conversation because feelings are hard. — randomly disappearing to punch curses alone without backup. — at least one major emotional crisis repressed into a singular eyebrow twitch.

They weren't fighting.

And honestly, that was weirder than when they were.

Nobara noticed it the second they all met up in the dining hall for breakfast: the sun cast high, the light refracting through the glasses of water on the tables, leaving behind a sparkling surface. Megumi's arms were crossed nonstop, his shoulders struggling to hold the tension, sporting the worst eye bags she had seen in ages (Should she recommend him some good eye cream?)

He fixed the ground with a glare, eyes narrowed like he was trying to exorcise his constipated feelings, before sitting down at one of the tables off to the side. Nobara thought that he looked like a statue with too much gel product in his spiky hair, the way he didn't even eat his food, just stared at it.

On the other hand, there was you, who kept fiddling with your uniform as if it wasn't sitting right on your body. It couldn't be that, though, because the tailors of Tokyo Jujutsu High were very high-calibre. She would know, her uniform sat perfectly, and she was quite finicky in that matter. So, it had to be something else.

Nobara couldn't read you, though. You kept to yourself and made no move to really integrate yourself to their friend circle and sure, as an exchange student, this entire stay here was supposed to be temporary, so to some extent, she did understand that maybe, it was better not to get attached. But then, there also was no telling how long you were staying, so wouldn't it be better to make friends?

But you didn't and so Nobara didn't, either.

It wasn't like she really disliked you, but she wasn't going to waste effort on somebody who didn't know to appreciate it. She was fine to ignore you most of the time, which wasn't hard, considering that you only let some comments slip sometimes, but then you had to go and be a bitch to Megumi.

It wasn't like she really cared about Megumi; if anything, he was annoying with the way he was zapping all the fun, but she couldn't stand by and watch him be hurt like that. In the end, he was her teammate and…..her…..friend……so she couldn't not feel a certain way about it.

In any way, there was no greeting, no arguing, not even a single snide comment about the other's expression, punctuality or whatever it was they used to bicker about constantly. No sarcastic jabs, grumbled responses that made her roll her eyes so hard, it gave her a headache.

Not a single thing.

Just silence and a whole mountain range of tension between them — and it wasn't even the fun type of tension. Ugh, this was so boring.

Nobara leaned back on the bench, her food untouched as well as she pretended to yawn, but mostly, she just wanted to gauge how bad it was between you two. She had seen you going at it before — loud, sarcastic, the kind of arguments that made Yuji glance between you two like some kind of referee in a sports match, so the weird silence — the chattering of Yuji's with the rest of the students aside — was honestly disgusting.

Yuji's voice, cheerful and loud as always, broke through her thoughts. Really, this kid had no tact or decorum. "Sooo, what's up with these two? It's like there's a black hole of energy today."

"Salmon," Inumaki said and stabbed a piece of fish (Fish? As breakfast?) to bring to his scribbled mouth. Nobara eyed the markings on his cheeks and Inumaki was quick to zip up his jacket and hide them behind his collar like he could hide from the world. Nobara didn't really mean to make Inumaki feel self-conscious but wow, these marking did not help out.

Yuji, on the other hand, kept eating the fish and the rice like he was starving, though knowing him, he probably was. Seven hours without food? A surprise he was still alive. With stuffed cheeks, he spat a few grains of rice onto her plate. She pushed it away. Gross little chimp.

"Yeah, it's like, they're magnets in reverse, you know? Like…repulsing? Was that the word?"

"Repelling," Maki's eye roll was so incredible in conveying her exasperation, Nobara was in love. "It's like watching two stubborn blocks of wood trying to figure out who is more stubborn."

Nobara had to try out the eye roll, too. "More like, who is a bigger pain in the ass."

Then she leaned over her food, ignoring Yuji's star struck chipmunk face when she pushed him back by the shoulder to shout over to you, "Oi, did Megumi infect you with Fushiguro Syndrome, too?"

Your voice was cheerful when you replied, "I think I'm just peachy, Kugisaki, thanks for asking!" but Nobara could spot fake-happiness from a mile away — the way your knuckles whitened holding your chopsticks, the annoyed twitch in your eyebrows, the distracted flitting of your eyes over the fish. Yeah, definitely Fushiguro Syndrome. You were sporting the most theatrical fake happiness anybody could ever ask for. Not that she'd know who would want it, but in case it was an attribute searched by anyone, at least she would know where and who to direct them to.

"She absolutely isn't."

"Yeah, no way in hell."

"Salmon, salmon."

Yuji swallowed the food without even chewing properly, a few rice grains still sticking to the side of his mouth. He tried getting them with his tongue when Inumaki pointed towards them, but gave up when the blonde sorcerer kept shaking his head. Nobara probably could tell him exactly where it was, but to his dismay and to her enjoyment, she did delight in watching Yuji make a fool of himself.

"It's weird, though," he said in between licks (no! Not this way — the rice grain was under his lower lip on the right side!) and then stuffed his cheeks with more food, "I mean, they've always been kind of odd with each other, but now it's different. It's like…they're those crabs that get stuck in the same hole and just…pinch each other until they both get annoyed enough to walk away, but they can't leave because they're stuck, and it's hilarious."

"What in the hell," Nobara paused. "are you talking about, Itadori."

Inumaki Toge nodded. "Bonito flakes."

"You seriously agree with him, Inumaki?" Maki quirked up her eyebrow, one of her chopsticks waving in the direction of Yuji and Inumaki as if to make sense of their non-sense, to bring to life the magic of understanding neanderthal-speak.

Megumi stood up with the slight screech of his chair skidding on the floor, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets as he walked out the dining hall without sparing a glance towards anybody. There was a distinct scoff coming from your direction, your chopsticks scratching hard against the surface of your plate, before you too pushed your plate away and got up to leave.

Nobara wondered if you had only been here for Megumi's sake, whether you had meant to leave at the same time, to give the impression that your presence at breakfast was just to make Megumi uncomfortable — maybe a reminder of whatever transpired between you both. But honestly, Nobara couldn't care less. Worrying about other people could mean that she'd stress over them enough to cause her hair ends to split or, worse, get grey hair.

God, just kiss or kill each other already, she thought with an exaggerated eye roll, but in the end it wasn't her business. Not really.

…but she definitely was going to text Yuji about it later.

16th of April; 13:26. — gojo satoru.

Gojo Satoru was many things.

Handsome (undefeated). The strongest (naturally). Adept at approximately all the things he put his hands on. But nosy? Not really. But once he was curious, there was no stopping him, and curiosity for Gojo Satoru was a dangerous thing.

Sipping from a can of peach soda, especially sweet, he sat lounging on the stairs. Below him, on the courtyard lawn, stood his little assortments of students, amongst which were his enigmatic black-haired student and his new Kyoto's little sharp-tongued mole. Well, exchange student, if he were to stick totechnicality, but then again, that word didn't do a lot of justice to the actual reason you were sent here.

Both of his students were standing a little too far apart; there was no speaking and no fighting like all the other times that he had the pleasure of witnessing. But that was the thing. There had been a fight.

If he could be generous to call it that — which he always was, mind you — the last mission ended with a little…disagreement. He hadn't been there, but the report Ijiichi had given him was quite clear. Something had happened that broke whatever little tolerance you both had for each other. Of course, he could imagine what it was, because Ijichi had been very detailed in the way both of his kids derailed into a shouting match over blame.

Gojo sipped his drink.

Interesting.

Megumi wasn't the type to carry grudges, usually. He carried a lot of responsibility, sure. A liberal amount of regret tossed in there, too, but what sorcerer didn't?

But something as petty as resentment? Not usually his deal. The nasty glare he had fixed on the exchange student was speaking volumes, though.

And you?

He had noticed it before; the way you made things personal, the way you didn't let up. Gojo thought that it wasn't the worst thing to happen to Megumi, especially if you could get him out of his mind once in a while. So he never saw a need to intervene, beside the fact that he didn't think Megumi would be unable to handle what you threw at him.

He could already imagine the glare sent his way if he meddled in Megumi's business beyond his own relationship with him as a teacher. Though, not that that really kept him from anything.

But personal tension, especially if it was persistent, had a way of bleeding into teamwork — or as 'team' as that work between you seemed to be, which did make it Gojo's problem, after all.

One eye peeking from underneath the blindfold, he noted the way Megumi's jaw tightened when you turned away without acknowledging him; the way your cursed energy flared aggressively when Megumi muttered something under his breath. There was a tight rope between apathy and something glimmering beneath it, heated, unspoken and definitely unresolved, tied between both your feet; ready to get you tripping if you moved too far away from each other.

He could be doing the responsible teacher thing: sit them down. Encourage open communication, blah blah — no.

That wasn't his style, and way too boring. What kind of teacher would he be if he didn't subtly abuse his incredible power for lighthearted surveillance?

Gojo Satoru tilted his head and his gaze fell on Yuji and Nobara, a slight tight-lipped smile widening, "Let's see what my adorable disasters are up to."

20th of April; 10:08. — gojo satoru.

"Already done? My, what hardworking bee you are, Megumi!"

"There any more, Gojo-sensei?"

"There's always an abundance of low grade jobs, but you sure you're not gonna turn into a zombie on me? Ya giving your brain enough time to catch a break?"

"I'm fine. I'll handle it," then, his voice a bit quieter: "I won't make any more mistakes."

Gojo tilted his head, his eyebrows drawn high, "I'll have Ijichi give you the details on the way. Just know that you'll lose your handsomeness if you turn into one of those undeads; flaky skin and all, you know? Now off you pop."

Though maybe he'll finally stop resembling his father then, Gojo thought, his finger turning the cuff of his uniform as he watched his student leave the room, a slight limp as he stepped on his right ankle.

22nd of April; 23:48. — zen'in maki, just called maki.

Zen'in Maki, just called Maki, hated reminders of her parentage.

For all the obsession with strength and cursed techniques, Maki found that the name of her clan in blood was less a title and more of a curse itself; a chain clinched around her throat since her birth, growing with her as she transcended childhood and grew into the young woman she was today. It was not rare for somebody to utter the name in her vicinity — not by virtue of upsetting her, but because even though she thought it was undeserved, there was no denying that the Zen'ins were one of the three great sorcerer families.

Even though it had been some time since she left the clan compound, she still felt the weight of it — the expectations she was meant to fail, the sneers she was meant to endure, the silence that was meant to shame her into obedience.

The traditional and backwards way her clan in blood operated made hers boil, and even though she would like nothing more than to circumvent any mention of this bitter reminder of her apparent inadequacy, she steeled herself each time the name passed somebody's lips. Because to flinch is to give in, to react is to admit defeat and to allow them to control her beyond their property by mere allusion. And Maki, with her stubborn heartbeat and her body honed into a weapon, refused to bow.

Her eyes, as sharp as ever, flitted over Megumi's black hair, though barely illuminated in the darkness and stillness of the night. Sometimes she forgot that he shared the same blood, but it wasn't the clan's much-heralded inherited Ten Shadows Technique that reminded her. It wasn't the black hair either that they shared. It was this.

The look in his eyes as he gripped his blade and performed katas with his sword. The cleanliness of it, the efficiency. It was the expression on his face that had her narrow her eyes, that had her muscles tensing as if to ward off any attacks — the same calculating silence masked as focus, the same quiet detachment.

She used to see that look in the training halls of the Zen'in estate: when her father would bark corrections with a tone that promised bruises and punishment; in Naoya's face when he used to kick the animals that lost their way onto their property, on the faces of several clans men. A mask that said feelings get you killed.

She watched him pivot, bring the blade up with a sharp, precise movement that made no sound but cut through the air like glass; the harsh exhale like there was a mountain of air buried deep in the cavity of his lungs needing to be set free. It was the feeling that this reminder of the mask brought out within her, the desperation to rip off that same look on her own face, the hollowed out thump in her chest that had her approach Megumi.

"You trying to break some record or are you just trying to kill yourself out here?"

Maki didn't expect a response and true to that, there was none following. She knew it all too well — this honed focus, the strangulation of an-ever growing vignette.

"Seriously, what the hell is going on with you?" Maki stopped a few metres short from where he was denying his body any rest, "It's well past curfew and you're bleeding all over the place. Training's not going to do you much good if you can't even hold your damn weapon."

Along the razor sharp sound of the blade slitting the air into two, Megumi's voice sounded out, painted with heavy breaths: "What about you then? What did you come out here for, huh?"

Silence. A slight stiffening of limbs.

"Don't pretend we don't know," Megumi halted in his movements, and his eyes — a wild, storming ocean — fixed her with a look, "You come out every night like you're being chased. Like you'll fall behind if you stop. So what is it — are you here to check on me or were you planning to do the same thing?"

Maki stayed quiet longer than she meant to.

There was a slight pressure behind her ribs, in the cavity that was her chest. Something curling up in on itself. A part of her wanted to scoff and tell him he was projecting, but the look in his eyes stopped her. The restless edge. The way he trained past exhaustion, the circles underneath his eyes, a promise that collapsing meant personal failure. The way he avoided eye contact when people asked if he was sleeping.

She knew what it meant. She knew where the road lead, because she was still walking it.

He wasn't wrong. The truth was that she hadn't come out here to check on him, that it wasn't on her mind until she saw the way he had danced over the training grounds. That she came because her body was buzzing from the inside with energy to waste, constantly caught between fight and flight, even when there was no one left to fight.

Her knuckles were still sore from last night. From the night before that. From the week before that.

Never leave me behind.

Maki's exhale was quiet. There was a promise and she broke it. She had left first.

Every time she trained until she couldn't feel her legs, every time her fingers bled grasping the hilt of her blade, it was with the breath of her sister's whisper down her neck. Because she had to believe that it would make it worth something. That she was getting closer to earning her way back, that she wasn't abandoning her twin — just biding her time until she could tear the clan down with her own two hands.

She glanced at Megumi, the tension in his muscles, the barely healed cuts on his arms, the faint trickle of blood from the ripped open callouses on the palm of his hand and the way he was holding himself together like his world was taped up hastily and might shatter. She saw herself in him, younger her who kept pushing forward because stopping and turning around meant seeing what she had left behind.

"I didn't come here to hurt myself. I came to train."

Something almost akin to a scoff escaped the boy, though it also could have been him breathing out in exertion, "Right. Because your hands weren't wrapped in tape yesterday either, right?"

"That's different," she said but Maki wasn't typically somebody who lied to herself.

Megumi bent at the knees, deep, the sword reflecting the moonlight for a split second, his shoulders twitching in a shrug. "I'll stop if you stop."

Maki felt it sit in the pit of her stomach — the guilt at her own decision, the rightful anger at her clan, the choking pressure of her desire. Then she rolled her own shoulders, steeled herself and with it came the resolve: even if there was nobody who would understand her, who could walk in her shoes, who could save Mai from the Zen'in clan's clutches, she would have to continue on.

There was no other way it could go.

"You're overthinking your third stance."

His voice was rough, almost desperate. "Show me."

25th of April; 01:18. — you.

There was a folded strip of black paper sitting on your bed, pressed and knotted with a red threat.

A talisman.

Kyoto-issued, so it seemed. You'd recognise the ink pattern everywhere having seen it in your school, a subconscious reminder that you weren't here to have fun. Well, it wasn't like you were having any special fun, but still, the appearance of such a charm had your spine straighten up immediately.

Carefully, you let your gaze roam through your entire room, but nothing seemed out of the norm. If anything, it might have been even too tidy, though that also might be your paranoia talking. As much as your room looked like it always did, the talisman was very well out of norm.

Kyoto Jujutsu High usually didn't get in contact with you, unless there was something dire.

And that couldn't be, because you hadn't noticed anything worthy of noting down yet, because nothing was happening here. Nothing of significance for Gakuganji, at least. Nothing that warranted them contacting you directly and sending you a message so obviously.

You picked up the paper, your eyes recognising the charm written up, general polite well wishes, and underneath in strokes that only a select few could read:

As we have yet to receive any updates, we would greatly appreciate a brief report at your earliest convenience. Should circumstances remain unchanged, we may be required to explore other available options. We appreciate your continued efforts and trust you will keep us informed.

Of course. There was no name, no seal, no malice in those words. Seemingly. Only incredible politeness, a veiled threat, so if one were to read it, it would sound like a mildly scolding letter.

You stared at the charm, the crease where it was folded neatly. Your first thought had been that you missed a report — that somehow you'd let something slip. But you knew yourself, knew the meticulousness with which you always prepared the seals, knew that the correspondence was as tight and precise as your technique.

You pursed your lips in thought.

If they had sent something now, that meant your charms weren't reaching them for a while now. You hadn't thought much of the silence after each of the transmissions; no confirmation coming back wasn't unusual. The Kyoto faculty preferred silence, the kind of quiet superiority that made them respond when they deemed it important, not one second before.

But now this.

If your reports weren't arriving, then either something had intercepted them…or someone had. Both implications had your forehead create way too many wrinkles for your age and instinctively, you glanced toward the window, the slow sway of the courtyard trees like a whisper about to tell you its secrets.

The paper folded without resistance, at the same seam as before. It didn't matter if someone had been interfering, you decided; you had no proof or any grounds to throw around accusations, especially since that wasn't Kyoto's intention to begin with. They'd rather replace you than make sure to find out who was trying to foil their plans. Beside the fact that it wasn't your job to speculate. It was to observe. To report. To be useful.

It wasn't quite the way you liked to do things for it made no sense to you that other people would offer up information out of their own volition. If there was no action taken, how could you ever find out about people? How were you ever going to prove your usefulness to the people who deemed it so easy to replace you?

You hadn't expected to feel anything, reading those words — certainly not this hesitation. Not when you were here with a purpose; but still: it twisted inside you, low and persistent.

Which meant no more distractions.

Because if your chest twisted like that then that meant you had been dragging your feet, it meant that a part of you had started to hope the assignment would quietly dissolve before it reached a critical point. Because it meant that you started to get attached when you were just being thorough.

You straightened the paper, smoothing the wrinkles that didn't exist. No more chasing tension for your enjoyment's sake. No more watching Fushiguro Megumi to see if you could crack the surface, to see if his innards spilled out with all the thoughts and feelings he kept hidden, the fight with himself to figure out who he was. No more trying to provoke him.

You'd wasted much time trying to figure out what lay behind that tired sharpness in his eyes, the way he flinched at praise, the way he always looked like he was dragging something unseen behind him.

You couldn't make that mistake again.

Whatever role he played, whatever potential Kyoto thought he might harbour and develop, it wasn't yours to decipher. It wasn't yours to push. It wasn't your mission. He wasn't.

Whatever interference had occurred, it wouldn't happen twice.

26th of April; 16:34. — fushiguro megumi.

"She's not that bad, you know?"

Fushiguro Megumi didn't want to look up to see the pink of Yuji's hair drown with an orange sheen, to watch the sky bleed into lavender, evening announcing itself slowly, gently.

He thought that he really didn't want to talk about it.

There wasn't anything to talk about, not about you, and not about you with Yuji. Especially not him. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his input — at times. But this? This wasn't something Megumi wanted to lay out for anyone, not something he wanted to talk with Yuji about.

Not the argument that him and you had, about the accusation standing in the room, about all the things that he knew Yuji felt strongly about. Megumi knew that he would take it hard.

So he scoffed, his chin finding its way onto the palm of his hand, "Yeah, well, she thinks being loud is the same thing as being right."

"Cool. But that's not what I asked," Yuji leaned back, his elbows finding the stone steps behind him.

No, it wasn't. He knew it wasn't.

There was a soft breeze, a certain warmth swinging alongside it. The stones beneath him were warm, too, still lingering in the former caress of the sun. Yuji wasn't looking at him, and that somehow made it worse. If he had been, if there had been pity in his face or concern in his eyes, then Megumi could have shut it down. Cut the conversation short. But the casual posture, the light tilt of his head back toward the sky — it made it harder to tell him to shut up.

It would have been easier if he wasn't here. If Yuji wasn't trying to poke holes in walls that Megumi had already worn himself out trying to keep up.

So he said, flatly, "Why you here?"

Yuji didn't take the bait, and that annoyed Megumi, too. But there wasn't a lot that didn't manage to irk Megumi nowadays.

"Because you don't talk to her," he said simply, "Maybe you'll talk to me."

Megumi didn't move, but the grass in front of him did; swinging with the soft picking up of the wind. Yuji's voice wasn't accusing or disappointed; it was gentle in the way that only Yuji could sound like. Goodhearted, open, optimistic. He talked like he knew it was difficult and didn't want to make it harder, and that was exactly what made it difficult to shove him away.

"You care. That's what's messing you up, isn't it?"

Megumi didn't dare breathe.

"She pissed you off. Got too close. Now you don't know what to do with it."

He exhaled softly. Yuji was wrong — or at least, somewhat. It wasn't that he cared about you. It was the way you looked him in the eye and questioned everything he believed in. His desire to save lives — all lives, if possible; that he wasn't actually doing it. That killing the curse wasn't always the same as winning, that the mission, the regulations weren't absolute. Couldn't be.

You believed in getting it done and accepting what had to be lost along the way, and it was the way you had been calm about it. Cold, even. Efficient, not even necessarily cruel, though he thought you were — but just clear.

And that had shaken him.

A part of him was wondering if you were right. He was pissed about that.

Because standing in the rubble of the half-collapsed shopping mall with the girl crying behind him, he had hesitated. Not even because it was hard. But because it wasn't.

"Mind your own business, Itadori."

Yuji stayed on the steps, solid, still, refusing to be dismissed. There was a pause, and then:

"Nah."

He knew Itadori Yuji. Knew the tone and knew exactly what it meant — that this wasn't going to be one of those conversations that got buried under a shrug and a change of subject. Yuji wasn't leaving, not until he had said whatever he wanted to come say. There was a quiet patience in his eyes, the kind that made Megumi feel seen, a little exposed, challenged.

He rubbed at the corner of his brow with two fingers, eyes closing with exhaustion that ran deep. "I said drop it."

"Yeah," Yuji nodded. "I heard you."

"You don't get it." Megumi imagined Yuji like a fly that he could swat away, bury all his thoughts under the same swatter, squish them out of existence. His tongue felt heavy. Had he never said this out loud? It felt like he had been saying nothing else for weeks now. With a tight jaw, he muttered, "You would've saved them. So would i. That's not the issue."

"Then what is?"

Megumi hesitated. He didn't want to offer his thoughts, everything in him didn't want to admit it like that, but this was Yuji. The same person who who had jumped into danger without a second thought just to protect someone he barely knew, so he cradled the thing that sat in his chest like weight and pushed it out, "She made it sound like doing that made me weak. Like— like it was selfish."

He thought that if he could save someone, even one person, that should be enough. But she made it sound like wanting that meant he was doing it for himself, like he wasn't thinking about the bigger picture. Like he didn't care.

Yuji was silent for a while, and Megumi stiffened, and then—

With a shrug that didn't match the weight of his words: "So what if it was selfish?"

Megumi's shoulders stayed tense but he blinked, his eyes wandering over to Yuji but all he met was a steady look back, calm, grounded in a way that Yuji rarely looked like.

"We make choices and live with them. Sometimes that's selfish. I don't think it means it's wrong," Yuji hesitated, then shrugged again, though this time it was more of a way to get rid of thoughts that intruded on his spoken words, "Maybe it's not even about who's right. Maybe it's just about who's willing to live with what they chose."

Megumi's chest ached. Yuji spoke with a certainty that made him think about Sukuna's finger that Yuji ate that roped him into a world that brought nothing but misery, and why he had such a hard time doing the same when he grew up within it. He didn't respond, not because he disagreed, even though he wanted to push back, to argue, to find a reason for why he would be right, but because the words wouldn't come.

Maybe it was his pride. Maybe it was shame crawling up his throat, laying bitter on his tongue. It wasn't a question of his decision, it was a question of who he was.

Yuji stood up and brushed off his pants like he hadn't just pulled something raw into the light, like the conversation was done. And maybe it was. Megumi made no start to stop Yuji, anyway.

"If you don't wanna talk to her, fine. But don't lie to yourself about why."

3rd of May; 18:52. — you.

The warehouse reeked.

Like mold, blood, and something sour that clung to the back of the throat — the kind of stink that told you a curse didn't die clean. And it didn't: there was a substance resembling blood splattered all over the floor, like it couldn't escape fast enough from where it had been squashed into mush.

Megumi stepped over it, his boots making a wet sound on the floor, his steps heavy and with purpose in the vast silence that suddenly laid itself on top of you like a thick blanket. The air was heavy with aftershocks of cursed energy; the taste tangy and metallic on your tongue.

You could hear the drip of blood from the curve of your sword, the echo hanging in the air, drip, drip, drip.

It gnawed on your nerves, a slow and deliberate sound that you couldn't escape, so you flicked the blade off with a swift motion. Your eyes swept over the shadows lingering from when megumi had called them.

Footsteps matching his in the quiet, the rhythm of yours echo out of sync, a subtle discord that had become almost too familiar. Before, the silence had been filled with sharp words, teasing, half-fulfilled orders, information, occasional jabs. Now?

Now it was just motion. Breathe. Get it done. Get out. No checks. No confirmation. No reason to linger.

Megumi didn't wait for you to catch up. He moved forward without a glance, the slight echo of his voice cutting through the stillness, not loud enough to be a real order, not quiet enough to ignore, "Let's go."

You followed because, well, it was over. The job was done, and there was nothing left to say.

5th of May; 12:01. — fushiguro megumi.

Fushiguro Megumi didn't know why he was lingering around the broken shopping mart in Yurakucho.

With his hands loose by his side, his eyes travelled over the police tapes that were slowly being rolled together. The curse hadn't come back, because if it had, there wouldn't have been the shifting from police workers to construction workers over the weeks.

His heart was beating steady, watching the bustle, the shouts over the sound of equipment, the everyday hustle of people who didn't know better, who didn't have to know better. He continued standing there, watching until the workers gathered together for lunch time.

Megumi ducked under the signs that warned other citizens to stay out, and entered through the broken doors, now cleaned off the shards. His feet took him to the third floor automatically, the entire mall looking weirdly peaceful without the shelves reaching over to keep him in their grasp, without the air weighing him down like he was going to crumble underneath the pressure. The lights were turned off, the electrical wires cut, but there was enough light coming through from the ripped down wall to the south side that he needn't worry about seeing, and he observed the dust dancing in the air.

There was no cursed energy lingering around anymore, but he found the faded circle of red on the floor easily.

He didn't have to worry about the cursed womb anymore, didn't have to worry about anybody else getting hurt.

His teacher had caught him on the extended balcony of the main building in Tokyo Jujutsu High a couple days back, jutting out to observe the main courtyard and if he turned, a side view of the sport field expanding right in front of him. His other schoolmates were training out, and he hadn't joined them; instead, his eyes flitted over the starfish spread of Inumaki's — a Yuji standing next to him poking him with a stick, the huge body of Panda's throwing around a screeching Nobara, the band of limbs blurring in a spar between Maki and you.

His lips twisted, and he looked away.

"Megumi skipping school? Scandalous!"

He barely flinched when he heard Gojo's cheerful tenor ring through the air behind him, too used to his teacher popping in at whatever times he deemed fit. He couldn't tell whether Gojo had come up using the stairs like a normal person, though knowing his teacher, that would have been too boring.

Megumi didn't think he needed to answer. He knew he was supposed to be down there training alongside the rest of his classmates, but he couldn't step foot onto the field, knowing you were there. If ignoring you had been difficult before, it was almost impossible now, even though he didn't speak to you, your own comments having dwindled, only terse necessities when you were put together on missions.

It was less the quantity of commentary that weighed on him heavily; it was just the way his hair stood on its ends, his skin prickling at your mere presence. There was a charge to the air between you both, the accusation and assumption sitting in the atoms he breathed in, heavy, tasting like static.

He shook his head lightly, the memory of a certain monitor beeping in his ears fading. He wasn't wasting time, he wasn't — he was going to train twice as hard, was going to make up for it. His missing the training with the rest of the students would have no bearing on his performance. He was going to make sure of it.

He had no other choice.

"Just so you know, I don't quite mind. I do approve of a little rebellious streak," Gojo's saunter towards the railing where Megumi stood was insufferable. It was not just the way he walked, like gravity bent over backwards for him, the bounce in his steps, like he was mocking the world and daring it to do something about it, but also the underlying message through the easy sway of his shoulders: that he was untouchable. "But skipping school is a slippery slope. First, it's one day. Then it's two. Next you know, the others avoid handling you at staff meetings, and I'm the one who has to go through all your reports. Not fun."

A dry remark, no questions intended. "Do you even read the reports."

"Nah. I don't. It's too much of a hassle," his teacher said with a grin, his canines sharp and glinting in the sun. His elbows propped up on the railing, his back to the sports field, he looked up to the sky. Or, well, his face was looking towards the sky, his eyes might has well have been roaming Megumi's face. Not that he would know where Gojo was looking with that blindfold on.

There was a kind of quiet between them that felt like it was supposed to be purposeful. He didn't like it, his hands gripping the railing a bit tighter, like he could redirect his tension through his fingertips to the wood. There was a breeze softly caressing Megumi's face, and for a second, he wondered if he deserved to have the world treat him so gently, when he—

"I exorcised the curse."

On instinct, Megumi whirled around towards Gojo and the distinctive curve of his jaw as he continued to study the sky's blue, the spare clouds here and there. Like clockwork, the stone in Megumi's stomach sank deeper, and his knuckles whitened on the wood, his nails digging between the rills of the old timber.

"I know there's coulda-woulda-shouldas going through your head. You don't have to tell me, I know I've got bingo already," Gojo said offhandedly, and finally turned his head to Megumi, his smile softening, less of a tease, more of an inspection.

Megumi looked away, the wood digging in between the nail and his skin, right in the crevice where it was hard to get out. "You shouldn't have had to clean up after me."

"Aww, come on, that's what I'm here for. Let me have my moment," a snap of his fingers, "I even looked cool doing it — real flashy. Big crown. Someone might have clapped, ya never know."

His teacher was so ridiculous, Megumi couldn't stop the huff escaping him. Of course, he was out to be praised, so full of himself the way he always was. To an extent, Megumi even appreciated the ease with which he talked. Not that he would ever admit it. "You're not helping."

Gojo bent down, the tip of his sharp nose getting awfully close to Megumi's. "Also, for the record, the whole spinning around you just did? Very dramatic, I give it an 8.5 out of 10."

Megumi jerked his head back, sending a glare towards his teacher, "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not unless I'm unconscious. Or dead," both hands up in the hair, Gojo stood upright again, to his full height; assured, confident, a fact, "Hold your horses, Megumi — I'm not planning on either of those today. Or the near future."

Megumi's eyes found their way from his teacher to the field again. Inumaki had finally gotten up, though he was still a far cry away from actually gearing up to fight. Maki had moved on to rope Panda into blocking a flurry of her attacks, every movement precise and trained, no wasted moment. Yuji and Nobara were off to the side, engaged in the typical bickering he knew his classmates to partake in. A threatening raise of her hand at Yuji, an assuaged shoulder dropping directed at Nobara.

You were nowhere to be seen, and Megumi hated that he took note of it, that his fingers let up for a second, that the coil in his stomach uncurled. And when gojo spoke again, he hated the way relief wormed itself through his heart, as if he deserved it.

He hated, too, how much he welcomed the relief.

"It's alright for the stuff to weigh on you. You think you're the only one holding the line sometimes," Gojo's voice was serious, in a way that Megumi seldom heard, "You're not. You've got people behind you. Beside you. Me included, aren't you lucky."

Because it was true. Because Megumi could rely on Gojo Satoru. Because he could rest assured that his teacher had always looked out for him, and would always do so, despite being so annoying about it. Or maybe perhaps, even more so because of it.

"…thanks."

Gojo's grin returned with ease, shoulders pulled up as he kicked off the railing. "By the way, the next time you skip class, at least pretend to be doing something cool. Like I dunno — stealing a cursed artefact, annoying Nanami until it looks like the button on his collar is gonna burst, infiltrating a rival Jujutsu School…the list is endless!"

"Those are all terrible ideas."

A gasp, and Gojo turned around, his hand clutching his chest, "Excuse me for having taste."

Megumi had rolled his eyes, but inwardly, he had felt a weird mix between mollification and a nervous fraying around his edges. Making his way down to the training grounds as well to take over Panda's spot, he had even managed to ignore that he was only going down because you weren't there anymore.

A coward—

No.

He just didn't want to get into fights anymore, he told himself, he was sick of it.

Standing in the wreckage left behind of the failed mission now, he couldn't muster up the relief that he felt when Gojo first told him that the curse was gone. He didn't have to worry about it anymore, didn't have to agonise over it at night, could finally focus on his next missions, of not repeating the mistake.

The curse was dealt with. No one else would get hurt, no news alert or updates that he would have to await with bated breath. No more imagining what could have happened — because none if it had happened. And now, it never would.

So why, instead of ease, did he feel a familiar tightness in his chest?

His fingers swept over the mark of his shikigami's warding attack, muscles loose, not clenched, not angry.

The second Megumi learned that Gojo had stepped in, the weight had vanished from his shoulders like it had never been his in the first place. The moment it wasn't his problem anymore, it had stopped being real. The guilt, the panic, the second-guessing — all of it evaporated. Gojo had fixed it. He had always fixed it.

But what if his teacher died? What if there was nobody around to pick up the pieces he left on the ground?

He pressed his lips together.

Megumi didn't use to think about it, but then you threw it at his head, the question of whether he knew that his sense of justice disappeared so easily and—

The comfort sitting in his bones, in the cracks of his joints, turned sour, like milk that was expiring. Gojo could shoulder the burden like it was weightless — and for him, maybe it was. But Megumi wasn't like that. Was he going to rely on his teacher forever?

If he started choosing who lived, if he stained his hands so others could stay clean, would maybe one day the relief feel genuine?

1st of May; 14:28. — you.

You lingered near the restricted area, your fingers hovering over the glass display case. You didn't dare touch anything, but your eyes were sweeping over the more dangerous collection of cursed objects. The area hummed with restrained malevolence; the ancient talismans pulsed dimly, guarded by layered barriers woven so tightly that even the air seemed hesitant to stir.

You didn't intend to steal anything. T

his was merely reconnaissance, to confirm whether the rumour over at Kyoto's were true: that Tokyo Jujutsu High had been quietly amassing cursed relics far beyond what they reported to the higher-ups. That under Gojo Satoru's protection, they'd turned the school into something closer to a private arsenal than a neutral institution.

But this wasn't about fairness or balance, that you knew. It always came down to fear, to wanting to gain the upper hand against somebody they didn't trust. Neither gojo nor his students, and especially not the influx of power the first-years all brought along.

Standing there, surrounded by cursed tools older than some dynasties in Japan, you felt weird.

This wasn't just a vault, it was a warning, too. A reminder that if Tokyo wanted to, they really could overpower Kyoto before it ever drew its own blade. And if it was true, what would the elders plan to do with this information if you delivered it?

In the end, you shouldn't care. You were a tool to use, a means to someone else's end, you were just there to collect information, and leave before anything could happen. Ever since you found that talisman on your bed, you kept repeating it to yourself, yet still —

Strangely, your first thought was of Itadori Yuji.

Not because he was friendly, even though he was. Not because he always offered to spar, even though he did, or because he was so earnest, but because of what he carried inside him.

You had seen it in flashes; in the way his smile faltered when he thought no one was watching, in the tension in his shoulders when he had to deploy Sukuna to take over his body, like he was bracing himself for something he couldn't stop.

He bore the King of Curses like a time bomb behind his ribs, and the worst thing about it was that he wasn't just a vessel. He was a boy trying to stay himself. So if what you learned here about Tokyo's cursed arsenal got back to Kyoto's elders, would they have more leverage to use against Yuji?

You were their spy, yet—

"So, funny thing," came a voice from behind you, "back during my days, the restricted section wasn't on the student tour."

You froze.

Gojo Satoru stood just a few steps back, hands in his pockets, posture loose, like he had just strolled in by accident. His blindfold was slightly pushed up, one pale blue eye gleaming under the low light. He wasn't smiling, but his tone was light, breezy, almost bored.

Like catching you here was a minor curiosity.

You turned slowly, "Gojo-sensei."

"Wow. Polite!" he nodded appreciatively, the corner of his mouth twitching, "Didn't expect that, considering the whole Kyoto sending you here and not teaching you how to trip a proximity ward. How is Utahime, by the way? She still giving the staff at the Karaoke's grey hair?"

Your answer was hesitant, slow, careful, "This place is off-limits? I could swear it wasn't. That's my fault. I can be on my way out, no time wasted."

There was a brilliant smile on Gojo's face at you playing stupid now; like a mask, easy and lazy, but there was a dangerous glint in the way his canine caught the light. "Cute. You lie like somebody who's never had to lie to me before."

"I wasn't—"

"—lying? Spying? Trying to sell me some sweet, innocent act?" he finished for you, his grin sharpening, his attention on you razor sharp, "Nah. Of course not. I can give you some pointers if you want my professional constructive criticism."

So lying wasn't an option anymore.

Not that you thought it ever really was, but in the same way that the higher-ups had no issue throwing out obvious, outrageous excuses like that, you thought maybe you could do the same to save yourself. But of course, it was a stupid decision. You had neither the power nor the authority nor the leverage to pit against somebody like Gojo Satoru to even try to pull shit out of your ass.

If anything, you didn't know if Kyoto even had any control. Not when it was the honoured clan heir on the other side.

What were your options then?

Despite the imposing presence of Gojo's, like an incessant reminder of the energy thrumming underneath his cool demeanour luring you to see him as an enemy, you couldn't attack. Not if you wanted to keep all of your bones intact. It would only end one way and that was with you in a hospital and having lost all semblance of some sort of trust between not just you both, but also with the other first-years.

Not that any trust had ever been really genuine, but at least it hadn't disturbed the status quo between you during all the weeks before.

You also didn't want to fight. Not like that. Not against Gojo Satoru. Ever.

You could try to stick to lying and pretend like you were innocent — it might even work, depending on how much good-will Gojo owned in that moment, how playful he was to really allow you to walk that line. He wouldn't believe you, but maybe you could appease him a little. On the other hand, it could also go insanely wrong in that he doesn't take kindly to being toyed with.

As stupid as it sounded, it was a viable option, but it was too much of a wild card to really trust that it would work either way.

Another option, which, out of everything, was not high on your list, was to offer him something in return if he let you get away with it. If you could convince him that you were more useful to keep around, you might be able to play it safe. He might be insulted, or he might take the offer, but either way, you would lose his respect and any possible prospect of gaining trust. Which, again, did not help your case in any way.

That lead to two different problems, though, which could be viewed on two different scales of importance, too. For one, and far less important, your behaviour was not just representative of yourself, but of Kyoto too, so any repercussions were directed back to the elders as well. You yourself didn't particularly care whether Gojo Satoru had respect for you, though having him as an enemy was not quite on your to-do list, either; but being the reason for the stand-off between the two schools to sharpen? Difficult.

Another reason, far more important to you, was to sell yourself like that went against your own principles; you were not in the habit of disregarding your own feelings in favour of saving yourself.

You were following your job, you knew that. You could treat it like a mission, because it essentially behaved like one, except a part of you couldn't because it wasn't against enemies, curses and curse users that intend to hurt innocent people. It was against other sorcerers, in a game where you were supposed to smile in Yuji's face and then feed his future to people who'd rather he die quietly than live inconveniently.

How much of a pawn did you want to be? You didn't care when you came here to Tokyo, but you also hadn't known any of the students here, hadn't seen how hard they worked to make a different future for Jujutsu Society.

You talked all about Megumi and his inability to be true to himself, but how about you?

The words left your mouth as calmly as you could manage, as steady as you could bring yourself to sound with Gojo Satoru watching over you like a hawk, "I didn't come here to steal anything."

Was that your smartest move? Maybe. Maybe not. It was hard to guess with him, but it was at the very least the truth and sometimes, when nothing else worked, truth was all you had left. It was your best bet at catching his attention; somebody who occupied the stance that Gojo Satoru did would appreciate honesty, you thought.

"You must be really curious then to ignore all the seals."

So he wasn't going to let you off easy. Almost, you were hoping he would be kind to you.

"They don't trust you. Or Tokyo," you didn't have to mention who they was; Gojo knew. By the shift in the air, the lessening of oppressive attention, you also knew he was listening now. "Not with the first-years. Not with Itadori. And especially not with you standing between them and the chain of command."

He didn't interrupt, so you continued.

"I guess you could call me spy, but they never do. Well, not officially, anyway. It's called oversight, information gathering, or whatever other thing they can come up with," you swallowed the amount of saliva having gathered in your mouth from your rambling, "They think this school is building its own army."

"An army, eh?" Gojo made a low sound in his throat, an unceremonious snort escaping him, "I can't say we haven't a good roster this time round: a hammer, a puppeteer, a ticking walking bomb? Nah, I gotta tweak that one a little…just the bomb? Hmm…"

You interrupted him before he could spiral into another tangent, "Point is, they're scared of you."

He turned towards you and despite the brightness of his eye roaming over your form, his words were honest, "Good. They should be."

You stayed still, because— "What are you going to do?"

Gojo blinked, lazily, as if none of it truly concerned him. Like catching a spy in Tokyo Jujutsu High's restricted section was no more urgent than choosing what flavour Mochi to buy. But nothing about the casual motions of a tight-lipped smile curling onto his face or his fingers tapping his chin was idle to fool you.

"Me?" he echoed, "Oh no, I'm just sitting in the front-row seat of 'what are you going to do?"

You swallowed, just once. "I could tell them about all this here."

"Naturally," he said, one shoulder heaving up in a small shrug. The way his head tilted reminded you of a bird, "You could."

Was there a trap in his words? You weren't sure. That was the problem with Gojo Satoru — he didn't need to be flashy to be dangerous. Sometimes it even hid in plain sight, draped in his infuriating nonchalance and wrapped in his lazy smiles.

Was the off-handed way he regarded you a threat?

Maybe.

He didn't look like he was posturing. He didn't have to. He barely moved since the moment he caught you, and yet you hadn't relaxed once. His eye watched you, but not in a way a predator would its prey, because that was still seeing you on the same plane of existence as him and right now, you weren't.

He watched you like a god watched a candle.

You studied him back. "You're not going to stop me?"

"I already did."

Things were not written in stone. Theoretically, you knew that.

You could send your report back to Kyoto, and it would carry your name. You could choose to continue your mission the way it was intended, could accept that you essentially were a discardable part of a plan that was larger than you. The plan that encompassed the death of Itadori Yuji, that had its eyes set on Fushiguro Megumi and the power imbalance of his cursed technique officially belonging to no clan, but still could be seen as an extension of the Gojo family.

You could do a lot of things, but the way he was waiting for you to understand made you feel like your decision had been made hours ago already. That it had been cemented in moments that you hadn't thought twice about: the first time you snorted at Yuji's really-not-funny joke but he lit up like he got handed a prize when he realised who it came from.

The first time Nobara didn't bother hiding her annoyance during a dragged-out explanation during training but still shifted enough to give you a clear view.

The first time you saw Megumi hesitate before a mission, so minuscule that you had almost dismissed it, his jaw tight and eyes distant, that spurred on your curiosity about what he was hiding.

That was the trap, you thought, not Gojo's words but, put on the spot in front of a decision, how treacherous your heart and mind were.

7th of May; 22:13. — kugisaki nobara.

"Yo."

"Gojo-sensei!"

"Yuji, my favourite student who is absolutely not my favourite just because you're the only one who has decency enough to miss me so when I'm gone!"

Nobara tried her best at Maki's eye roll again, "Teacher's pet."

"Wait…am I not supposed to say hi?"

"Nevermind that, Yuji-kun! Won't I get a heartfelt greeting from my other two favourite gremlins?"

"Hi." — "What's the mission."

"Yuji, close the windows. There's a real cold draft. Weird."

"But there's none open…"

Ignoring yuji, her teacher continued cheerfully, throwing a file onto the table, "I come bearing gifts!"

Nobara's head thumped against her arm. Goodbye, skin care routine. Goodbye, a good night's sleep. Goodbye, peace.

8th of May; 23:42. — you.

Megumi's leg was touching yours.

The problem with being four people in a short limousine was that there were two single seats that both Nobara and Yuji were quick to claim. In fact, as you all were walking down to the awaiting car on the main street, both of your classmates started accelerating until they were speed walking at a very conspicuous pace. Megumi huffed to himself, a deep annoyed sigh, a few steps behind you but you didn't think much of it until Iwata opened the door for you both and an innocent Yuji was looking back from the front row seats.

The boy's pink-haired head immediately whirled forward when he caught your eye, but it wasn't quick enough for you to have missed the slightly guilty expression painted all over his features. Your eyebrows wandered even higher up when your periphery registered movement between the seats, Nobara's well-manicured fingers slightly pinching Yuji's thigh.

Her lips mouthed something towards him, quick, messy enough that you couldn't catch it but apparently that was enough for Yuji because his brows furrowed and he nodded, resigned, accepting his part in whatever scheme she was coming up with.

"Move," Megumi grunted from behind you when you took to long to enter, and pushed himself past you into the car.

"Don't strain yourself with all that politeness, Fushiguro," you bit out.

It was a cruel joke, looking inside the vehicle and finding that the only seat you could possibly take was right next to Megumi's right. Well, it would have been Megumi's left if you had entered the car first, but at least it would have been at your choosing which side you'd rather occupy.

Not your mission, you reminded yourself with a press of your lips, before sliding into your seat and allowed Iwata to shut your door close so he could drive you all to the mission site.

That had been eighteen minutes ago, and Megumi's leg was touching yours for the past thirteen of those. Megumi who had stubbornly stared out the window, who kept his body to himself, tense, with his arms crossed, until his head lolled forward slightly and his body relaxed slowly.

It was funny how open to an attack he was in that position, the back of his neck exposed as his chin softly bumped against his chest. If the Kyoto elders had tasked you to get rid of the Zen'in brat with the Ten Shadows Technique, you could have done so easily in that moment: taken a hold of the dagger you kept with you and aimed for his carotid, then dragged it up to his internal jugular. He would've been dead before he could have even had the chance to wake up again.

They didn't ask that of you, though, so you sat in this car with Yuji's and Nobara's whispers in front of you, and Megumi's leg that touched yours.

9th of May; 01:18. — you.

"This place smells like whatever's festering in those idiots' laundry pile."

Nobara wasn't exaggerating.

The stench of stagnant water reeked of bacteria finding a welcoming home; flowers that had been standing in their dirty water for weeks, a sickly sweet under note. It reminded you of buried corpses beneath wet earth, rotten.

The entrance to the underpass stretched out before you, half-drowned in shadow as murky floodwater trickled out steadily. Despite the sloshing of water reaching your ears faintly, there were no other sounds to indicate there was something nesting inside there: no breeze of wind, no metal creaking, no movement through the water.

There had been residual cursed energy picked up from the last site that the curse was lingering around, though it was difficult for to scouts who were monitoring the area to pick up the exact location. The curse was constantly moving, apparently extremely territorial and, most importantly, smart enough to avoid detection until now.

"What are you doing?"

You turned slightly to observe Yuji bending down, untying his boots, "I didn't know the water was going to be that deep!! I'm wearing my cool socks, so — " he rolled his socks into a little ball, stuffed it into his pocket before slipping into his shoes, sock-less, " — problem solved."

"Ugh, yikes."

"We should split up as we discussed," Megumi spoke up, his voice scratchy from when he woke up from his slumber earlier.

When the car came to a halt and the overhead light turned on, his body had stilled as his eyelashes fluttered lightly, opening, coming to his senses with a blink. He was quiet, when awaking. But Megumi, when left to his devices, was always very quiet, even more so in the recent weeks. His jaw slightly moved when he released the tension held within his teeth and his chest moved with a deep breath, shoulders staying relaxed momentarily before they stiffened when he felt your gaze on his face.

He had looked at you, something raw in his eyes, and you looked back. For a second there was nothing between you both other than just space that existed, then his knee had pulled away and you had turned and gotten out of the car.

"Sweep it from both ends. One team at the north entrance, and one from the spillway," Megumi continued. "At least this way we can cut off one route if it decides to lead us through a chase."

As you were approaching the mission site earlier, Yuji had asked about the distribution of teammates, and a quiet Iwata had spoken up. His voice was soft, hesitant like he was scared to unleash a storm with what he was about to announce. Apparently, Gojo had made it clear to the assistant manager to convey his explicit desire to have you and Megumi paired up.

You hadn't bothered to either act or be surprised about that development, taking the 'news' with as neutral a face as you could manage. Obviously, you would have preferred to share the name of teammates with Yuji instead, but after the encounter with Gojo, you weren't surprised that you were to be kept away from the pink-haired student that had the Kyoto elders in an uproar. It didn't matter that nothing in your secret mission had mentioned any bodily harm to Yuji, nevermind the fact that you didn't want to hurt him, but if it were you in anyone else's shoes, you would have kept yourself far from him, too.

The lack of trust didn't hurt you, for it made sense and you weren't sure you trusted Gojo Satoru and his little games entirely, either. It was a give and take, so nothing you could do about it.

What captured your attention instead was the fact that Megumi's face hadn't moved at the announcement, either. Where there would have been a palpable exasperation at sharing his presence with you, a frustrated grimace, a twist of lips, he just quietly accepted it now. It had you narrowing your eyes, a thoughtful curl of your mouth that you couldn't hold back.

His lack of ill-will was off-putting; the oppressive quiet he had layered over himself over the past weeks slowly, bit by bit, one that suffocated the usual reticence he carried with him. it wasn't like you knew too much about his private life, so you couldn't pin point what exactly had happened that had Megumi hide behind the biggest mask of indifference you had ever seen, and—

Not your mission.

There was fire licking at your fingertips, urging your tongue to loosen up to coax it out of him, because you knew there was something contained behind the seams, trying to burst. You knew because you felt the same way. Because there was something brewing in your chest that wanted out, because Kyoto made it clear not to intervene with anything and not to care. Because Megumi was not your business.

You're not going to stop me?

I already did.

You exhaled harshly.

The sound echoed off the walls of the underpass, seemingly stretching endlessly in front of you. Your shoes were wet and you were glad that the water hadn't seeped through them to dampen your socks — yet. If you had to walk any longer in the rising water level, they would become so sooner or later. The water rippled around your shins faintly, lit dully by the weak glow of your flashlights. Moss climbed up the walls in green veins and every few paces the rusted husk of a bicycle or the tip of a traffic cone broke through the surface.

Megumi was wading through the water as well, next to you, his eyes observing the tunnel walls like they might peel open and serve the curse on a silver platter, a stern line on his mouth. The silence stretched thin — taut with the weird change between you both. He hadn't spoken a word since you entered, and it didn't bother you, you told yourself.

Except there were comments that burned on your tongue, so you did the sensible thing and swallowed them down with the same-old mantra you had adopted ever since you found the talisman on your bed.

Ignoring the fact that ever since Gojo had found you sniffing around, you hadn't actively went to search for any new information, either.

9th of May; 02:03. — itadori yuji.

"If this thing doesn't show soon, I'm gonna curse it for wasting my time when I could be getting beauty sleep," Nobara's boots splashed as she moved on ahead, her hammer kept low.

Rip her mouth to shreds. She talks more than you whine around, brat.

Itadori Yuji flinched just a little, shoulders tensing instinctively at the voice that coiled through his mind like rot given form. Sukuna's tone was laced with dark amusement, sharp and sleazy, sliding into the quiet of Yuji's mind like a knife. His voice carried the weight of ages — dry, scornful, each syllable curled with contempt.

He tried not to show it. He was getting better at hiding when Sukuna slithered in, but it still left that familiar feeling in his chest, like he'd swallowed nails. But Yuji also knew that Sukuna loved to get the best of him, so his best bet had always been to not give the King of Curses the satisfaction of a response.

He trudged through the water beside Nobara, arms slightly raised like the water might leap up and bite, "It's not so bad. You think curses can swim?"

"Shut up before you jinx us," she muttered.

Yuji glanced at nobara, trying to gauge her mood. She was always so confident, so brash, but tonight there was something different about her. A tension in her shoulders, a tightness in her jaw. It wasn't just her missing her beauty sleep, it wasn't just the mission. She was annoyed, sure — that was kind of her default — but… more than that.

He couldn't really blame her because Yuji felt weird most of the time, too.

He knew that not everyone shared the same line that he drew in the sand.

He hated it. Hated the feeling of watching his friend hurting over something he understood very well, of the sting of pain that stayed lodged deep beneath his ribs, creeping into dreams and daylight alike. Yuji had lived it, Megumi had lived it, Nobara had, they were still living it; the same wound that wouldn't stop bleeding because it never got any time to heal.

Yuji knew that Megumi would throw himself into danger if it meant somebody could be saved — it was why he appreciated and trusted Megumi after all this time so deeply.

But you?

If he had to say, he wasn't quite sure where to put you on his scale. He didn't think that you both were strictly in the category of friends, but he also didn't think that you weren't. If worse came to worst, he would protect you as he would with any other of his teammates, the same way he would with any given human, but he wasn't sure whether he enjoyed your presence, not when he saw how biting your words could be.

Yuji generally was a forgiving person, straight forward, optimistic even, but then sometimes you fixed him with this look of yours as if you knew more about him than he'd like you to and—

He shook his head.

That wasn't the point. The point was that he had seen enough of you to understand that you weren't heartless, not in the strictest sense, that you did what the mission called for, that he saw you doing what other sorcerers were doing, and Yuji understood that.

It scared him, not because he thought it was cruel, which he had trouble figuring out if it even was, but because he knew that he had been shown over and over how the Jujutsu world worked. How easy it was for the mission to swallow everything else; that maybe, one day, doing the right thing by the rules would mean stepping over someone begging for help.

He wondered if, eventually, he'd have to become like that, too.

Yuji rubbed his chest; a self-soothing technique he only really started to use ever since his grandfather died, ever since he had swallowed Sukuna's finger and there was a presence within his body fighting his cells for power.

He didn't want to get used to death.

Such sentiment, truly. You weep over things already gone, how tedious.

Yuji's jaw tightened, but Sukuna kept going; his voice silken, venomous.

All this morality talk. You still speak of saving everyone, how quaint. How boring. This is not a tale of heroes, boy, it's a reckoning. In time, you'll grow accustomed to it. They all do. And when your bleeding heart betrays you, I shall be there.

He swallowed down the clawing urge to scream. To sleep. To disappear. Then, with a squeeze of his eyes, short, forceful, he re-focused on Nobara grumbling through the water, the faint sloshing echoing through the tunnel, the feeling of cold surrounding his legs and asked, "You think Fushiguro and her are doing okay?"

"They better have more going for them than we do, ugh, my poor shoes. I'm so going to have Gojo buy me a replica. Maybe even two, he knows I hate mouldy tunnels."

Fool.

9th of May; 02:21. — fushiguro megumi.

Megumi refused to be surprised anymore.

It had been Gojo's idea. Of course it had. Who else would think it brilliant to shove two people who could barely tolerate each other into a death trap as a form of 'team building'? He could almost imagine his teacher's laugh — the disgustingly cheerful, insufferable sound that was somehow still able to be genuine in its amusement.

Megumi didn't feel like laughing. He hadn't wanted the assignment to turn out this way. Not with you. Not when he had tried, again and again, to avoid being in your presence more than necessary. But this was necessary, so he clamped down the buzzing feeling crawling on his skin to focus.

When Gojo had given them all the file with the information gathered so far, Megumi had fingered the paper, eyes scanning over the information — sensor readings, half-legible scout notes, maps — only to turn the page and stop. There they were: blurry, cruel pictures staring back at him of the confirmed causalities. Faces frozen mid-expression.

Something had twisted in his chest at the faces, gripped his heart in an iron fist. It wasn't guilt, not exactly. Not yet. But something closer to pressure, sharp and unwelcome in the way it prodded his ribs from within.

"The curse's not consistent. Weren't sorcerers or anything special — locals, mostly," Gojo had said offhandedly, almost flippant. His voice didn't betray anything of what he thought of Megumi's question, "A maintenance worker. Two kids cutting through the underpass to skip school."

Simple facts, lives on paper, reduced to what they weren't.

He had felt the words lodge in his spine. This time, he wasn't going to freeze, wasn't going to falter, to hold back just because something inside him still bucked against the uglier parts of being a sorcerer. This time he couldn't be selective.

He was not going to run away.

Because if he hesitated—

No.

He didn't need to think about what-ifs, because there were going to be none. Because there was going to be no second-guessing, no moral hesitation, no wondering if he had made the right call, no thinking of you—

He bit his tongue.

Megumi's eyes flicked sideways toward you, just slightly, almost involuntarily. His eyebrows furrowed deeply. He hated how your presence was a quiet pulse at the edge of his focus like an itch that he couldn't ignore. He disliked that he didn't know why he found you so unfamiliar, why the air between you both kept feeling like spilled gasoline, invisible and waiting for a spark

You didn't speak, didn't look at him, and yet somehow it felt like you were doing both, like you were aware of everything he thought and felt, like he was being watched, measured, known in a way that he didn't want to understand—

He shifted his gaze forward again.

Not now.

The water was deeper now than when they first entered the north side of the tunnel, cold, heavy, like it wanted to slow him down. Instead of ripples, the water moved steadily with each movement, and he had to hold up the lantern a bit higher so it wouldn't be swallowed up, the dull glow barely pushing the shadows back.

Up ahead —

He squinted.

This was an underpass; there was only one way to go, it should have been a straight line. Yet right in front of him, there were dozens of access tunnels branching in and out, narrow, curling like roots in the dark. The architecture shouldn't be possible, yet…

He paused, and when the lantern was held out to you, you reached for it without a word, hand brushing against his own.

It was only a single moment, the brush of skin only that: a brush, yet it burned.

Tensing, he snapped his hand back, fingers poised and intertwined in each other, ready to summon his Divine Dogs at a moment's notice. The cursed energy coiled tight between his hands and the flash of heat through his chest.

9th of May; 02:38. — kugisaki nobara.

Miserable and damp, Nobara's boots splashed through the water that had no business climbing up her legs, dunking her flesh in the slimy substance she actually wasn't entirely sure was even water to begin with.

"Smells absolutely rancid," she muttered to Yuji, her nose curling, "Almost like—"

"My socks? Jokes on you, I'm not even wearing them," he grinned, bright and dumb as always, but even Nobara could see the sharpness underneath the smile, the vigilant squinting of his eyes against the darkness, "Think it's hiding?"

Obviously, she thought. Not long, and she would completely master Maki-senpai's eye roll.

"Yeah," Nobara scanned the ripples a few metres away, the suspicious feeling in the air intensifying. She was pretty decent at recognising the enemy's game plan, she'd say. She had to if she wanted to survive amongst all the backstabbing people in her old town. If she wanted to navigate through the lying, the lashing out, the manipulation she saw Saori enduring, "The water's deep, so it could be anywhere but..."

When the water stilled again, her muscles tightened, and she raised her hammer slightly. Nobara didn't like that the water was quiet, because quiet meant somebody was thinking, and thinking meant there was a trap ahead.

There were two things Kugisaki Nobara hated: inappropriate use of leopard prints and backhanded manoeuvres.

"…my feeling's telling me that…it's..right…"

A point with her hammer at the minuscule waves, "…there."

"Did you—"

Before Yuji could finish, there was a dark grumble interrupting him, deep and disgusting. A breath later and the curse burst out from beneath the water, twisting like a living shadow, fast, massive and so goddamn ugly. It was big, its head almost reaching the roof of the underpass, a tail smashing against the walls as tendrils, oily and slimy lashed out wildly.

Nobara's waist started to feel cold, and when she dared to catch a look down, there was water surrounding her. It hadn't been so high earlier, she noted, alarmed, "Yuji—"

"Shit—!" Yuji barely dodged the first strike of a tendril, thick as a tree's trunk, the water splashing violently as it crashed beside him. Make that three pairs, Nobara thought, when the oil splattered on her. This wasn't going to get washed out, no matter what, and honestly, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to try and clean it.

Her hammer was fully up in a blink, energy pulsing through her arms like fire, "I'm going to teach this ugly fuck a lesson."

She didn't have to look towards Yuji to find a determined grin on his face, "Count me in."

Yuji darted forward, quick and clean despite the water sloshing at his waist. His fists were already poised and up, eyes locked on the twisted silhouette ahead. Nobara hung back; not out of fear or reluctance, because contrary to popular belief (Megumi and Yuji), she would get dirty to get the job done, but because she'd rather watch the movements of the curse and aid the exorcism through ranged combat. Also, because there was no way in hell that she could be as fast in this water as Yuji.

A tendril cracked through the air, slicing down in a high arc. Her teammate twisted away just in time, water exploding around him as his fist connected with the creature's head. It screeched, high and guttural, the stench of rot rolling over them like a wave. Then it vanished, slipping beneath the surface with a splash.

“Crap,” Yuji muttered, eyes scanning the water. "It’s in the water. We're not gonna catch it like that."

He backed off, mumbling something that might've been a joke. Not that Nobara thought it would've been funny if she had been able to catch it. Her hand was already in motions, pulling nails from her pouch in a fluid sweep. With a flick of her wrist, she launched them: sharp darts of silver, one, two, three, humming with cursed energy.

A muffled shriek followed as the nails found flesh. Oil rose, swirling on the surface, then it burst from below with his ugly sharp teeth, sinews that hung loose and all the rage lunging at her.

"Not today, freak," Nobara snapped.

She held her ground until the last possible second, then side stepped, her hammer swinging upward to catch the curse across the shoulder. It connected with a thunder-like crack, and the curse reeled — right into Yuji's awaiting first. One hit. Two. The third sent it staggering back.

Then came the tail. A blur of muscle, whipping with brutal force.

It slammed into Yuji's gut with a wet, bone-jarring thud. He grunted, forced back a step, his boots skidding through the water, but didn't go down.

Seriously, what were his legs made of? Reinforced concrete?

9th of May; 02:40. — you.

"You heard that?"

Megumi nodded, his eyes fixed on the walls ahead. His entire body had gone taut, every muscle alert, like a blade drawn but not yet swung. A screech had cut through the air, faint and distorted by stone and water, but unmistakably the curse. Which meant either Nobara and Yuji had found the curse or the curse had found them.

There was a low hum of cursed energy in the air, but it was weak. Too weak to confirm the exact source just yet, barely enough to really catch it, but still, not faint enough to ignore. It didn't mean it wasn't dangerous.

The dampness began to creep into your bones, deeper now, soaking through your clothes and sliding icy fingers across your skin. Every slow gust from the tunnel behind felt like a breath on your neck, caressing your spine with a kiss and you suppressed a shiver.

You had chosen the far most right tunnel, because it was the easiest to retrace should anything go wrong. That had been the plan: don't get lost, don't get flanked, stay alert, focus, exorcise the curse.

But as you and Megumi pushed forward, the narrow passage began to widen, the ceiling opening up, revealing more waterlogged space. Holding up the lantern, the light shone faintly, shadows receding slowly.

Then—

A faint, irregular movement.

Just off to the side, slumped against the wall where a mound of debris had collapsed, was a figure. He was half submerged, water up to his shoulders, and trembling violently. His soaked clothes clung to him, ragged, probably weighing him down more. Almost like a ghost, his pale skin shone in the dim light as he shuddered; looking like he was barely tethered to the physical world.

He wasn't dead, though. Not yet.

The old man's face lifted slowly when he heard you, eyes wide, bloodshot, water droplets hanging from his messy beard. His lips parted, cracked and raw. How long had he been down there?

Megumi slowed, and the water shifted with his arm, like he was gripping his weapon, ready to draw, and when you turned slightly, the light of the lantern between you, he glanced at you for a fraction of a second.

There was an unreadable look on his face, like carved from stone, every line harsh, neutral, focused. But you didn't search his face, you searched his eyes underneath the dark hair, underneath the mask he put in place so tightly, and they always betrayed him, flickering with something fierce and momentary. A whirlwind of emotion he swallowed down with a bobbing of his Adam's apple, not clear whether they wanted to soften or harden.

9th of May; 02:52.— itadori yuji.

Another round of nails fired, and Yuji knew that even though the water wasn't clear, he could trust Nobara to do a good job surrounding the curse.

He was already moving when she slammed her hammer down on the final embedded nail, her cursed energy surging in a flash: a chain reaction snapping from point to point. The ground trembled with how fast it spread, and the explosion lit up the creature's side.

A shriek, a buckle from the curse.

A fist, elbow, knee from Yuji.

The rhythm of his strikes was relentless. Each one hammering the curse deeper into disarray, but when he made to surge through the water, raw knuckles ready to deliver another blow—

A splash of water, mud splattering on his face, and some landed on his panting mouth, the taste pungent and dirty. He couldn't keep the grimace from spreading on his face.

The surface calmed instantly, still, eerie in how quiet it became. Too quiet.

"Where the hell—"

"Shit," Yuji wiped his wet face, breathing hard, lungs ragged. His body was coiled like a spring ready to release, tight, "This thing doesn't stay down for long."

But there was only tense silence, the only sound interrupting was the soft splashing of water beneath their feet.

Nobara's eyes scanned the water, "Wait…"

His muscles tensed at her alarmed voice, "What? What is it?"

She didn't answer at first, her eyes shifting back to the water, expression sharpening. Then, with sudden certainty: "It's not coming back up. It's gone, not just hiding, gone."

Before he could respond, there was a low, echoing splash resounding in the distance. It sounded deep and wrong, and a tremor rippled through the water, legs vibrating, concrete humming underneath their wet boots.

Yuji's head snapped toward the noise. "North entrance. Megumi."

He was already running, water flying with each step. The air felt thicker, charged with the sense of urgency. The pounding of his heart kept time with the splashing of his feet.

He was not going to leave you both to your own devices, not if he could help it, not if he could still breathe, not if he still had blood pumping through his body.

Run, brat. Let's see how far those legs get you.

Yuji didn't flinch. He just pushed through the water harder.

9th of May; 02:53. — you.

One of Megumi's shadow beasts barked. Sharp, low, a warning cry that cut through the heavy silence.

Megumi's attention snapped to the darkness ahead. his stance shifted, spine straightening, sword already angled forward. the tension in his frame was immediate, palpable, his expression hard.

The old man behind them coughed out a garbled string of words, stuttering, his voice raspy and dry, like it hadn't been used in ages. But whatever he was trying to say drowned beneath the sudden shift in the air, heavy, suffocating, thick with cursed energy.

The ground trembled underfoot, a chilling surge of cursed energy spreading across the water.

"Get back," Megumi commanded, low and clear.

Then it came.

Emerging from the depths was a hulking mass of shadow and writhing limbs that twisted the laws of motion. The curse moved like a fluid wrapped in wrinkly skin, oozing cursed energy with each movement; its eyes were pits of malice, gleaming in the lantern light with unnatural hunger. The nasty smell rolled over you like poisonous gas, subtle, clogging your nose.

Megumi's dog lunged forward with a snarl, water splashing around its paws, saliva dripping from his bared canines.

You raised your weapon, but the sudden influx of oil made your grip slip — just for a second. It was enough to remind you how bad it could go. You hadn't expected it to be a walk in the park, of course, but you had hoped it would be at least a bit simpler. This though? This was difficult.

Then it roared. It was a low, bone deep sound that shook your chest, vibrated through the water and clung to your legs. And before you could blink —

It was fast. Faster than expected. Faster than you could dodge.

You registered the impact on your ribs from the tendril lashing out, before you skidded back from the force. Pain bloomed on your skin, a deep ache, and you thought you couldn't get any air even when you breathed. Gasping, you spluttered out water from where you fell back, face momentarily dunked in the liquid, "Fushiguro!"

There was another swipe of a tendril, and it dragged over the entire terrain, coming at you with shocking speed. Ducking under the water again just in time, you felt it catch some of your hair. Your lungs complaining, screaming for air when you couldn't get your diaphragm back into its rhythm from the strike before, you broke the surface again, in time to see the tendril catch the old man full in the chest. He wailed once, a broken, high sound, before the curse yanked him across the tunnel like he weighed nothing, like he was a rag doll to be thrown around.

You grunted, voice raw from the salt water as you moved forward, intent on cutting down the curse, but even as you charged, a shadowy tentacle shot from the creature's body, aiming directly for you, snapping through the air —

It never hit.

Megumi's blade was fast, cutting through the curse's arm mid-strike, slicing the shadowed limb clean in two. Black ichor splattered on the water, sizzling where it landed.

The curse shrieked, and in that brief moment of distraction, it let go of the man, retreating back into the shadows of the water once again, moving like liquid, too fast to keep up with.

The old man struggled to stay afloat, finding a log of discarded metal, rusted and probably carrying all the bacteria for the wound on the guy's forehead. Yet, he still clung to it with all his might, body trembling in fear, eyes wide in terror. You were sure he was only awake because adrenaline coursed through his veins like a drug, with primal fear at something he couldn't comprehend.

Megumi’s gaze didn’t waver from where it tried to track the curse; he stared at the water, sword angled low, a predator stillness to him. And for a moment, in the gleam of his eye, there was something unspoken.

Like a warning, like a challenge, like a promise.

9th of May; 02:56. — itadori yuji.

"It was already halfway gone before you punched it, Yuji, how about using your brain sometime to grab it or something."

"How am I supposed to see it coming? It's like swimming with a torpedo. A creepy, soggy torpedo."

"Whatever. When we're done, you're gonna carry me to the car. I'm way too tired."

"Do I even get a say?"

"No."

9th of May; 03:01. — fushiguro megumi.

The water exploded.

A monstrous surge of tendrils shot from the depths, writhing toward them with horrifying speed. There was nothing human in the way it moved — its limbs contorted as they stretched unnaturally. It was too long, too thin, but Megumi didn't flinch. It was not too difficult to kill.

There were jagged shapes protruding from some of the tendrils, and its movements blurred at the edges: frantic, fast, making it hard to follow with the naked eye. But he didn't need to. His shikigami tracked cursed energy like breath in the dark, flaring with each incoming strike. It always alerted him when the cursed energy levels changed, so he could trust his shadows, but you—

Megumi clicked his tongue.

You were already moving towards the curse, cursed tool in hand, dark energy radiating off it where you had imbued the blade. Despite having been flung through the air, your movements were still swift, graceful, but god, you had no patience. He swallowed down the bite rising in his throat, the urge to tell you to wait so that you could coordinate, to strike smarter.

The curse recoiled at your blow, but it wasn't retreating yet, just gathering momentum.

The water churned violently around its body, as though the curse itself was dragging the entire underpass toward it. Its mouth opened wide, teeth flashing as it lunged forward, but Megumi, who anticipated it — seeing as how he seemed to be the only one who tried to hatch out a game plan — was quicker once more.

His eyes narrowed and with a practised signal of his hands, his Great Serpent moved through the water like it was his second home, converging on the curse, coiling around its limbs and biting down hard. The curse snarled and writhed under the pressure, just enough to expose a weakness, enough to give you an opening.

"Now!" he pressed between gritted teeth, his voice carrying the urgency, snapping.

You both moved; your blade arced towards the curse's core, and Megumi stepped in to flank, but the curse twisted, unnaturally pliable. With a sudden, sickening twist, it tore itself free from Great Serpent's jaw, spraying deep purple blood across the concreted walls. The thing's body seemed to fold in on itself, reshaping as if wanting to escape the grasp of Megumi.

"Dammit!"

He didn't stop. Couldn't stop, pushing forward, determined to keep it boxed in, to keep it in check, to not allow it any time to recover, but the curse was relentless. It was like fighting an ocean of flesh, always shifting, always evading.

Your eyes never left the curse either as you tried to slash with your blade again, aiming for what seemed to be its neck, but the curse writhed, dodging; its inhuman agility almost more terrifying than its strength.

"Great Ser—"

Pain.

A sharp, burning stab to his side.

Megumi exhaled harshly, stumbling back a half-step. One of the curse's long, jagged limbs had found its mark, cutting deep. For a moment, his focus wavered. Blood dripped into the water, mixing into the water easily. Refusing to flinch, his hand instinctively clutched the wound, warmth spilling between his fingers. He couldn't drop his sword, he wouldn't— burning, it burned, right in his side. It burned.

"Megumi!"

Your voice broke through his haze, and he shook his head, once, hard, eyes squeezed together to rid himself of the feeling of pain, forcing it back, forcing focus. He snapped back to attention just in time to see the curse pivot and reach for him again.

Your cursed blade cut through the air, movements clean and fluid, synchronised with his own as if you had fought together for years, not just a couple months. Megumi's chest squeezed painfully as it hit him: not the pain, not the fight, but the weight in his chest, the strange sense of familiarity settling inside the cavity despite the tension.

"This thing is relentless," he groaned, voice tight with concentration, one hand coming up to wipe the blood daring to trickle down to his eye.

You nodded, readying yourself, but just as you were about to, the curse twisted violently, its body flailing in a desperate attempt to escape. Its tail lashed out as it caught the old man with brutal force, flinging him into deep the deep, murky water with a loud splash.

Megumi's shikigami was quick to snap back onto the curse, pinning it. It screamed, thrashed, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it was momentarily incapacitated, vulnerable.

They could end it. Now.

But the homeless man did not resurface.

And the curse was vulnerable enough to finish off.

His heart thudded once, hard and painful. Something tugged in his chest, tugged in his head. He had the chance to save the man, but—

No running, no hesitating. He felt it again: the pull. The he weight of his role pressing down on him, his duty to destroy curses, pulled at him with an iron grip. He couldn't flinch, he was a sorcerer, a weapon, that was what he was. And yet—

Before he registered what he was doing, his head had already whipped out to you and he met your eyes.

He didn't mean to look for you. He didn't know why he did, he didn't even want to. But here you were, already looking at him, meeting his gaze head on. There was no judgement in your eyes, not yet, but something else.

He hated that you were already looking at him. Hated that he felt like that was a test, hated the part of himself that didn't know which answer was right, hated that he felt observed, naked.

His jaw clenched, "Rush the curse," just as your voice sounded out: "We have time to go save him!"

9th of May; 03:05. — hasegawa masato.

The world around him was a blur of cold water and shadows. His heart, as weak as it was, hammered in his chest as endless dark loomed over him.

Masato's body was numb, though whether it was from fear or the icy water that soaked him to the bone, he didn't know. Terror clawed at his throat, tugged at his clothes, held his head in a vice grip.

He had been close to death before. Sickness when he couldn't afford medication was a vicious thing, hunger when he hadn't had anything to eat in weeks even worse. Sometimes, when a group of people, drunk, came by, they liked to make him dance for some money. Sometimes he would. If it meant he'd get some food, he sometimes swallowed his pride and went ahead with it.

But this? He had never been close to death like this.

That creature was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Grotesque, weird, unreal. Masato couldn't believe it was real, not when it looked like the stuff from nightmares, not when he thought he was going to piss himself.

When it had swung him around, he was paralysed under the weight of the monster's presence. The air thick with fear, the water having pushed him away from the safety of clinging to the metal piece; the scent of decay heavy on his tongue, his rasping breath barely able to satisfy his brain with enough oxygen.

Overwhelming helplessness consumed him as his limbs struggled against the water. They were like lead, the fear creeping deeper with every second. Oh god, he was going to die here, in this filthy underpass, alone. He was going to die alone with nowhere to run, no breath to take.

Was this how it was going to end? Was Masato going to die without having seen his daughter again? Without being able to tell her how sorry he was? That he wished he could hold her again, the way she was as a baby, a tiny thing that barely reached the entirety palm of his hand.

Masato had hoisted her up against his naked skin, her tiny little face nuzzled against his flesh, seeking his warmth. Then he had cried, mourning the lifeless body of his wife on the bed next to them, her legs spread and bloody, and his tears had caressed his daughter's skin.

Oh, how he wished he could tell her sorry, that he wished he could have given her a better life, that he didn't have to succumb to the deep abyss of all the feelings he didn't know what to do with after the loss of the light of his life.

He might have cried had his chest not been in so much panic that he kept trying to take a breath. It was a sheer miracle that he didn't, that he knew to press his hand against his mouth, trying to keep the precious little air he had left within his lungs.

Then—

Sharp pain at the back of his head. Everything blurred; his sight darkening slowly, warmth.

I'm sorry, Himari-chan.

9th of May; 03:07. — kugisaki nobara.

A faint bark sounded out, echoing through the tunnel.

"Dog's out, oh, what a good boy."

"He's so gonna get all the beef jerky he wants."

9th of May; 03:06. — you.

Your lungs burned, the world around you a blur of shadows and waves. The sounds of the curse seemed so far away, like there was cotton in your ear.

There. Just…a little…bit more.

Cold, slimy, your fingers slipped off the material once, twice, then, you gripped it harder. Tugged. Found it good enough, and then pulled as you struggled to haul the old man toward safety.

9th of May; 03:09. — itadori yuji.

Water sprayed as Itadori Yuji and Kugisaki Nobara exploded into the fray, his arrival marked by the sound of his footfalls pounding through a receding flood and the snarl of a curse that sensed another sorcerer enter the fight.

Megumi was already soaked, blood running down one arm in slow, steady rivulets, his expression eerily calm as it was grim — tight-lipped, pale, unshaken, angry. Shadows coiled at his feet, the water lapping up the blood oozing from Megumi like it was thankful for the meal.

The creature towered ahead, slick with oil and reared its grotesque head toward Yuji as he skidded to a stop beside his teammate.

"Took you long enough," Megumi said flatly, not sparing him a glance.

Yuji flashed a breathless grin, panting, "You look like shit."

"Then focus and stop wasting time."

Yuji's heart thumped in his ears, pounding like war drums, gaze trained on the curse and the way it twisted, the way it lunged forward, a mess of teeth and water, the movement causing a wave to crash against the tunnel walls. Without hesitation, Yuji ducked low under the strike, pivoted, his fist cocked back and ready to go.

He landed the first hit; clean and solid, pissed off, because fuck, Megumi was hurt and you were nowhere to be seen. A snap as the force rattled the curse's jaw back, howling in response.

Yuji ducked under the swing of a tentacle, and faintly, he heard a deep inhale, a pressured tension in Megumi's voice: "Max Elephant."

Water erupted as the enormous shikigami materialised, crashing down with enough weight onto the curse to shake the tunnel, its trunk hammering down like a wrecking ball, forcing the curse to rear back and expose its side for half a heartbeat.

Yuji darted around the curse, "Now!"

Nails flying through the air, hitting their mark from where Nobara stood at the head of the tunnel.

Megumi didn't hesitate either. With one swift motion, he snapped his hands together and called forth his Divine Dogs again, and they burst forward with fangs bared, eyes gleaming, latching onto the curse with force, ripping it apart. It shrieked and thrashed, momentarily locked in place as Yuji came from the other side, launching upward with an uppercut laced with cursed energy, coiled around his fist like a storm.

A rattling cry, a shriek then—

Purple, oily blood and cursed energy splashed outward like a shock wave and dissolved into vapour almost immediately. The pressure collapsed inward with a sickening pop, the oppressive air in the tunnel lifting like a vacuum sealed bag that gasped for breath.

And silence fell.

Max Elephant vanished with a spray of mist, and the Divine Dogs flickered out of existence, too, their shadows melting into the water. In the sudden stillness, the tunnel felt eerily quiet; water lapping gently against Yuji's legs like nothing had happened at all.

He staggered back, soaked, gasping. "Dude," he panted. "I'm done. I don't know what the hell that thing was but I'm calling it. No more sewer monsters. Ever."

No answer.

Yuji looked up and something in his blood sung, telling him to freeze. The water couldn't possibly become colder, except it did. There was a darkening to Megumi's face, something carved sharp. The kind of scary quiet that came before something snapped. His face was drained of colour, his gaze fixed somewhere past Yuji, unreadable, but his whole body was tense, a string pulled too tight.

For a heartbeat, yuji could swear he wasn't looking at a friend, which was stupid, because Megumi had always been Megumi, always good, old, reliable Megumi. Except that Megumi looked like he was two seconds away from turning into something else.

Yuji winced and tried to change the topic, "Soo…where's—"

Nevermind. He was not going to ask, not when Megumi looked at him then, and all the quiet, buried fury suddenly directed right on Yuji. He didn't wait for an answer, because behind him — a sharp splutter, a frantic gasp for air. He whirled around before his brain caught up, legs already moving toward the sound.

That expression — looks just how I like it.

9th of May; 03:11. — you.

Yuji was there in an instant.

He dropped to a crouch beside you, hands already curling underneath the old man's armpits to pull him up. His hair was ruffled like he had been going through it, and the look in his eyes was worried. Worried beyond just about the civilian man in your arms, worried like there was more weighing on him.

"Got him?" he asked, his otherwise cheerful voice tight.

"He's breathing. Took a hit to the head, though, so might have a concussion."

He nodded and gently pulled the man the rest of the way out of the water. Now that the curse was gone, the water was slowly receding, revealing more and more of the underpass, and becoming less and less like a maze.

You exhaled, warm air escaping you, blown out into the cold.

The skin of your neck prickled like the edge of a blade was pressed against your flesh — it wasn't the kind of shiver that came from cold water trickling down your wet hair. It was something tighter, and you didn't need to turn around to know who was staring.

Megumi, of course. It was always him when the silence felt like judgement.

The weight of his gaze sat between your shoulder blades like a hand pressed flat against your spine. He wasn't just looking; he was blaming.

So much for keeping low key, for staying professional, getting the job done and walking away. You could feel the air heat up, funnily enough, a kettle that was boiling and ready to whistle.

You refused to look at him, because if you did, you'd explode. Because if you looked at him and he dared to look upset with you, you were going to snap. If there was even a flicker of annoyance, of those stupid eyebrows drawing together and that stupid grimace on his mouth, you were going to kill him.

"Don't you look at me like that."

Megumi's steps were slow, deliberate, his boots sloshing through shin-deep water as he closed the space between you.

"Like what," his voice was low, rough, weird. Too calm.

He came to a stop just beside you, his chest brushing your shoulder, close enough that the warmth of his body clashed with the dampness of your clothes still seeping into your skin. Yet still, you refused to look, even though he was invading your space on purpose, even though you could see his hands balled into fists so tightly that the knuckles had gone bone-white, one still slicked in drying blood.

You spat, "What in the hell is wrong with you?"

The nail of his thumb dug into his pointer, "Me? What about you? You abandoned shit again right when I thought you knew what the hell you were doing."

You knew what you said.

That you wouldn't look at him. That you refused to give him the satisfaction of trying to stare you down. But well, the day was long and you talked a lot, and he pissed you off. You couldn't help it. You really couldn't, because Megumi had the nerve, because he never stopped.

You whirled around so fast that water flared up around your leg, arm raised and finger jabbing straight at his face, "Oh no, we're not going to start this again, Fushiguro," with the same nasty look on your face mirroring his. He didn't flinch. if anything, he stepped even closer, jaw tightening, ground teeth against teeth and his hand, long bloodied, trembling fingers, came to grip your wrist. Not enough to hurt, but enough for your senses to sharpen and hone on the contact of skin.

"This," his eyes were a dark blue carved out of the same murky water around you, "is what you wanted."

You barked out a laugh, mouth twisted in disbelief. "You think anything's changed? I thought your whole thing was not letting people die. But you — what? Tossed that out just like that? I mean, good on you, honestly. Growth or whatever, little Megumi finally growing balls, but you okay with that now?"

Megumi's anger was subtle, but it was laid out for you like a book to read. You looked at his jaw, cut sharply, and the way it tightened, skin drawn taut. His teeth were bared at your insult, a muscle in his cheek twitching as a droplet of water ran down the curve of his cheekbone.

He was angry at you, and even though you wanted him to be because it meant he let loose of that stupid mask he still kept up, it fired you up just as much. Because in the midst of his dark eyes narrowing, a wild storm in them, you thought that anger looked good on him, that you much preferred this to the silence and the ignorance the past weeks.

There was something bitter on your tongue and you let it sit there like ash when you looked at the way his wet hair hung down his forehead, the blood that was still running down the side of his face, circumventing his eye with a flick of his fingers, "I mean, if you're cool abandoning your values, fine. Be my guest. I just thought you'd learned from last time."

That got him.

Megumi's face shuttered, eyes dimming like a switch had been flipped, the storm cooling to heavy rain. His grip on your wrist didn't loosen; if anything, it became a tad tighter.

"Yeah?" he said, low, voice like ice, "Just like how you flipped on me now?"

"Excuse me?" you jerked your arm free, stepped forward so your chest bumped his, the air between you both hot despite the dampness, "I did what needed to be done. We had an actual opening, Fushiguro. You would've jumped on that weeks ago, now you're suddenly swinging from one extreme to the other?"

Megumi scoffed; a bitter, humourless sound that barely passed for amusement. His jaw flexed as he turned away slightly, and you noticed his other hand curling tightly at his side, "Don't try to sell me that bullshit."

You didn't back down, and this time when he focused his attention on you, his voice dipped lower, register dark and tight, the kind of controlled anger that came from being pushed too far too long, "Funny how 'what needed to be done' always ends up being what you decide. I'm starting to think you don't care about what the rules say, either."

"Yeah?" you snapped, "You got a problem with that?"

Fuck.

You could punish yourself for the way that slipped from your mouth. Because it sounded like an admission, because you knew that he wasn't entirely wrong, either. You always thought yourself to be a pride-less person, hell, you typically were, but not with this look in Megumi's eyes, one that's deeply rooted in proving you wrong.

And you might have chosen the wrong thing to say, but you would fight tooth and nail to prove to him that it didn't immediately absolve him, either.

His hand trembled, barely held back. In the back, you heard Yuji mumble something, but Nobara's voice cut through his, and he fell silent. For a second, you wondered what he said, why Nobara pulled him back when it was so very clear that he wanted to intervene.

Though, truth be told, you didn't know if you wanted him to.

"You judge me for going off-course. For ignoring your precious protocol, now you do the same exact thing and suddenly it's fine. Tell me, why is it okay when you cross the line?"

"It's not the same—"

"Like hell it's not."

Did he not see? Did he not see that whilst his snake was holding the curse, you both actually had a tangible moment of saving somebody who was drowning right in front of you? Was he so focused on suddenly pretending he cared about the regulations now that he threw his entire morals away again?

His eyes burned with something wild. Not rage exactly, maybe disbelief, maybe betrayal somewhere, "That's what you said about me, wasn't it? Not to let my emotions cloud my judgement. So what — now it's different? Because you felt like saving someone?"

Your heart was pounding and your throat scratchy as you memorised his face in your mind, the harsh lines, the curve of his nose, his wet hair, the hard press of his lips. Almost, you wished that Kyoto had told you to kill him, maybe then you'd stop feeling like there was a fire within you that you couldn't put out.

"So why didn't you?" you narrowed your eyes, because you couldn't kill him, after all, because even if you did have that order, you didn't know if you would, "You could've summoned your toad, couldn't you? I know you've got that shikigami. You're perfectly capable of calling out two of those shadows, so what the hell stopped you?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, and his voice sounded like each word was an effort to not raise his voice, thick with feelings, and it made you go crazy, "You think I didn't consider that? You think I wasn't aware of every option, every second, every goddamn breath we had left while trying to hold that curse in place?"

"Then why didn't you do it?"

"Because I was holding the line," he hissed and his nose brushed yours, "Because you ran off without a plan, because you ignored what I said, again, and I had two choices: drop the curse and go save that man's life or hold it and save all of us, hoping that your pea-brain was going to handle the other side."

"Don't you put this on me—"

"I will put this on you," his breath was heavy and you felt it caress your mouth and your chest tightened, "Because you walk around like you've got it all figured out, preaching about this and that. So quick to tell me I'm wrong for my decisions, but here you are, doing the same damn thing I did."

You stared at him with your chest heaving, repressed shivers making you tremble, betraying you. Because he wasn't wrong and you hated that. Hated how easily he cut through you when it came from him.

"Stop acting like you're above it," Megumi said, quiet now, bitter. Raw in a way he rarely let out. "You're not. And neither am I."

Your pulse was loud in your ears, loud, fast. You couldn't bring yourself to speak — too much crowding your throat.

He watched you for one long moment, then looked away, the tension in his shoulders rigid as he turned and walked off slowly, his hand pressing down on his side.

9th of May; 03:31. — iwata.

Iwata wondered if he would ever get relieved of his duty to chauffeur the kids around. Not that he necessarily minded the act itself; on the contrary, he quite enjoyed the thought that in some way, he was able to contribute to bettering society, of ridding the world from curses.

It was just that whenever he drove the kids anywhere, they came back looking a little more like soldiers, hardened and soiled, and a little less like teenagers.

That part, Iwata hated the most.

He watched them now from the driver's seat, engine idling quietly as rain pattered on the windshield, mixing with the muddy streaks from the tunnel water still clinging to their clothes. The smell of rotten water, blood and burnt cursed energy hit him the second they climbed into the car.

Iwata pretended to be busy, but his eyes searched them for any signs that they lost a little bit of themselves out there.

The pink-haired student, Itadori Yuji, climbed in first, breathing a little hard, wearing the same tired grin he always did — like if he smiled hard enough, none of the bad things would stick, like they would just ricochet off him. He flopped into the far seat and winced, arms limply sprawled across his knees as if it was too much effort to lift them.

Right behind him was Nobara; she looked like she still had some fire left in her, though it was only a glimmer. She muttered a string of curses under her breath, most of them aimed at the curse they had just fought — or maybe the mud in her boots, it wasn't clear to Iwata.

"Whoever sends us into another one of those tunnels," she sighed as she relaxed against the seat, "will have me hexing their entire bloodline."

"That a threat?" Yuji yawned.

"No. A promise."

Iwata didn't comment. Instead, the door in the back opened and Megumi followed in silence, a hand pressed to his side. The blood had mostly clotted, his jacket crumbled up to apply pressure against it, but Iwata saw the way he walked, the stiffness in his joints, the pain he tried to hide. Iwata couldn't do a lot, not until they got back to the school and to Shoko Ieiri. He slid back, elbows on his thighs, eyes locked on the floor like it might answer for something.

Lastly, there was the exchange student, the one he barely knew. Not that he knew the others that well either, but this one was even more of a puzzle to him. So he couldn't read your face, only saw the way it was set in granite, lines hard. You shivered slightly though you hid it well, instead looking out the window, hands clenched in your lap.

Iwata eased the car into drive, pulling away from the tunnel entrance. He had called an ambulance for the old man the kids were carrying out, already having given the first aid that he could. Silence settled over the kids, save for the soft purr of the engine and the patter of the rain.

He caught glances of them in the rear view mirror — Megumi stubbornly clenching and relaxing his hands, your eyelids slowly closing, Nobara picking at dried blood under her nails, Yuji fiddling with a broken zipper on his jacket.

God, they were just kids.

They shouldn't have been worrying about life and death, not making choices that adults twice their age couldn't shoulder without cracking. Should have instead been having fun out there, enjoying their youth, enjoying making memories all kids their age do.

He exhaled quietly, one hand tightening on the steering wheel. He didn't say anything. He never did. But he reached forward and flipped a switch on the car's dashboard to heat the seats for them.

Yuji leaned back a little more, Nobara let out a tired hum of approval, Megumi let his head fall back against the seat finally, his eyes closing and your shoulders loosened slightly.

It wasn't much. But it was something.

11th of May; 07:29. — kugisaki nobara.

"You think they're going to come out of this alive?"

"God, I hope not."

11th of April; 07:30. — gojo satoru.

"Well!" Gojo Satoru announced cheerfully, "Who needs actual curses when the real horror is whatever this — " he waved a hand in the direction of his two students, " — unresolved..bit…thing…is supposed to be. Hm. That sentence got away from me."

Neither Megumi nor you looked at him, and Gojo didn't need them to. He understood their silence perfectly well, after all. One could call him the whisperer of anguished teenagers, if one will. Not that anybody would, but he thought there was a high chance it could be true.

He sighed loudly, exaggerated. "Y'know, I didn't set this training camp up because I love early mornings or physical labour. I set it up because I actually care."

Still no answer. His lips twisted slightly, and he clapped his hands once, loud enough to echo through the wooden beams of the dojo they were occupying, the two kids sitting in front of him on the ground. Megumi stared down at the floor, his posture rigid. Next to him, you had your arms crossed, staring right past Gojo's shoulder at the wall.

"Alright, group meeting, just us three. Megumi, dear exchange student, and your incredibly good-looking, well-adjusted teacher."

That got your eye twitching, at least. Megumi's jaw flexed like he was grinding down a curse by tooth alone. Not quite efficient, but at the very least, he had them react to something. Sigh. Kids were so difficult these days.

"You two are good sorcerers. Really, of course still lots to learn, but good. Smart even, shockingly so actually, considering the choices you've both been making lately."

Megumi exhaled slowly. "We're getting the job done."

"Are you? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you are one outburst away from killing each other."

Then his voice dropped, just enough to remind his students that they were his students after all, "You can hate each other all you want once the job's done. But while you're out there? You work together. You trust each other. Or I pull you both off the field. Permanently."

That definitely got some reactions.

Megumi's head whipped up, a disbelieving, annoyed look on his face, the one Gojo loved to see, and you narrowed your eyes in response, "You can't be serious."

Ah, the poor exchange student by day, spy by night. How interesting it was to watch you scuttle under his attention, knowing the implications his words had on your situation. When he caught you in the restricted section, he had toyed with the idea of sending Kyoto a memento about what he really thought about having a child sicced on him by the higher-ups. A reminder that consisted more of a body part than it did of anything verbal, but he wasn't cruel enough to succumb an innocent person to that kind of torture.

Though, of course, he did think it would have been a good shock for them. And really, what would they have done? What could they accuse him for that he couldn't point right at them?

After all, they had started it.

"Oh, I'm so serious," he sang, the smile still there, but it didn't quite reach his eyes anymore, "This is your mission now: finish this training camp. Together. No sulking. No bickering. Just work. And progress, of course. I know, it's boring. Tough luck."

He stepped forward, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders, his slender fingers pressing in ever so slightly with something akin to encouragement, "So! You've got two choices: succeed…or succeed. Because that's all I'm offering."

Megumi glared at him viciously, like he thought maybe he shouldn't have come under Gojo's patronage. He thought he might have deserved it— nah, who was he kidding.

"Breakfast's in an hour, and if either of you come late, I'm making you sit next to each other and hold hands."

The look of disgust mirrored on both of your faces had him try to suppress a giggle. Oh, he should have done that earlier.

AUTHOR'S NOTE | thank you for reading!!

TAGLIST | @binkibuns @1l-ynn @nscuit @julieannah (tagged you guys because you seemed excited about the first part so i hope i'm not disturbing you with it!!)

[over-and-over-and-over-and]

"but right now YOU'RE MINE." || yandere ! shauna x reader

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

🔪 you're framed and punished for a crime you didn't commit. shauna decides she's best suited to be your punisher.

🩻 MDNI : eventual smut - transfem shauna receiving head except it kinda turns into face fucking because shauna is literally insane i swear i didn't mean for that to happen she just kinda did that

🥩 tw blood mention, [attempted] murder mention, toxic/possessive behavior, intentional injury causing + purposefully prodding wounds, yellowjackets typical shenanigans

♠️ pre-winter, no frog scientists, lowkey ooc [kill me], i wrote this fully forgetting shauna canonically is a pretty piss poor liar so just pretend that isnt the case i guess

my first time writing actual smut [i feel like the nsfw abc doesnt rly count] so i'm open to criticism it actually helps lmao

🎵 song: rule 34, fish in a birdcage

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"p-please i would never! i swear!!"

as much as you pleaded and groveled, nothing changed. you had sobbed and pleaded your innocence for what felt like hours, and not a soul was convinced- perhaps a few people were swayed or at the very least felt bad for you, but the mob mentality kept them in line as the general conclusion was that you were lying through your teeth.

for the most part, you were shit outta luck.

the evidence was stacked against you- which was ridicoulous considering you were genuinely innocent. most of it you didn't understand and couldn't come up with a reasonable excuse beyond-

"i must've been framed, i'm serious! guys you've gotta believe me i-"

"tch- of course you would say something like that." melissa scoffs, cutting you off. it seems she mostly meant to keep the comment to herself, but she made harsh eye contact with you while the words fell from her lips so you suppose she didn't mind the fact that you overheard her.

as much as you wanted to snap back and defend yourself, you knew it would only make things worse- melissa had been the one who had accused you in the first place, presenting completely damning (yet completely impossible) evidence

it's not like you could do anything anyways. innocent or not, the girls had already decided you were beyond guilty. either way, you were absolutely fucked.

you had been evicted from your hut and rehoused in the animal pen until the girls could figure out what to do with you. they had only tied up your hands, and even then they were tied together and not actually tied to anything in the pen... it would be catastrophically easy to run off. you considered it, but you didn't move a muscle.

you knew better than that.

instead you decided to stargaze with the animals, figuring it made a much better pass time than contemplating your fate.

you are quite glad you decided against running off when moments later you hear the gate open and shut, approaching footsteps following soon after. for whatever reason you didn't turn over to see who it was, opting to completely ignore them.

one of those situations where you hoped your problems would vanish if you pretended they weren't there.

they didn't.

instead whoever it was deliberately kicked you in the shoulder to get your attention. slowly you turned to see who it was, shauna's big brown eyes staring back at you.

her expression almost looked bored, as if she had a thousand better things to do, but her hands were balled into tight fists by her sides giving off a different impression of how she felt about you.

oh great.

"get on your feet."

you listen to her instructions completely, jumping to your feet at her command. despite the instinctive obedience, you can't help the inevitable question-

"where are we going?"

"just do what i say."

worth a shot.

shauna parades you through the village, which is weirdly quiet. you're used to the bustle of everyone running around paired with the excited fireside chatter, none of which was currently present. everyone must've been asleep already, which was weird because you could've sworn it was still early. you must've lost track of time while stargazing, but even then that seemed like a stretch.

you walk past each currently occupied hut, but before you can walk past shauna's she grabs the back of your collar, yanking you back. briefly you gag and take a moment to collect yourself from the surprise, all the while shauna is pushing you past the makeshift blanket door. once inside, you're given all of five milliseconds to glance around before shauna shoves you ass first into the dirt.

"what the fuck are you doing-"

"you should be grateful you're not dead."

this comment threw you off. you took a moment to process the implications before glancing back at shauna, "i was supposed to be executed?"

"you were supposed to be exiled with nothing but the clothes on your back," shauna rolls her eyes as if this conversation is painstakingly redundant, "which, out here, is pretty much the same as an execution."

"exiled? why?"

"because you're 'dangerous' and 'unpredictable', according to the court." shauna says the words with air quotes as if she doesn't quite believe it either- once upon a time you were the shy new kid on the team, and now you were being painted as being chaotic and cruel- no matter how you twisted it, the narrative just didn't quite make sense.

you cock an eyebrow, "i'm dangerous and unpredictable, but you're not?"

shauna deadpans, clearly unamused, "i didn't try to axe murder someone in cold blood."

"neither did i!" you exclaim, "the axe is kept on the other side of the village, completely opposite to my hut. i would've had almost zero chance of grabbing it, much less attempt to murder someone!"

shauna crouches down, kneeling to be eye level with you, and yet she once again rolls her eyes. by now you should know arguing with her of all people is not only pointless but also a bit of a death wish- considering your current situation, you could care less.

"someone would've woken up, don't you think? robin is a very light sleeper and she's housed right next to it! you should be interrogating her, not death sentencing me!"

"your clothes were found hidden and covered in blood, not hers."

"anyone could've taken my stuff from the laundry. your case has way too many holes in it, you and i both know tha-"

you're cut off by shauna's hands flying up to meet your throat.

"argue as much as you like but the decision is final." she emphasized her words by squeezing her hands around your neck, earning a desperate squeak as your hands rushed to meet hers, soon confronted by the fact that they were still tied. you couldn't do much aside from choke and squirm, causing a fascinated shark-like grin to slowly spread across shauna's face as she watched you struggle. there was a sparkle in shauna's eyes at the sight of your misery. as her eyes lit up, yours began to dim.

shauna tilts her head to the side, still carefully observing you all the while damn near killing you herself.

"are you gonna behave?"

to the best of your ability, you nodded.

her hands drew back and you began gasping for air, physically rolling over in a desperate attempt at regaining your bearings.

slowly you sit up again, cautiously looking her in the eyes, "do the others know about this?"

from the way the corner of her mouth twitches, you figure shauna is calculating an answer which you patiently wait for her to give, but she doesn't. the both of you sit in a brief awkward silence as shauna decides your question wasn't worth so much as acknowledging.

"do they?"

you try again, despite the way it didn't seem like you'd be getting a straight answer.

shauna opts instead to shift the conversation entirely. she grabs your hand (both unintentionally, due to the rope secured tightly around your wrists, although she focuses her attention to only one- your left hand-) pointing out a small scratch running across your forearm.

"what happened here?"

you sighed as you recalled the incident- post trial in your infinite genius you did the only thing you could think of in order to save your skin,

you ran.

you ran from a fucking soccer team.

your mad dash was unsurprisingly short lived but ended in a bit of a scuffle which resulted in a number of smaller injuries littered across your body.

you glance down at the scratch shauna was referring to, "i think that was misty- she grabbed me by the arm while i was trying to run and just kinda dug her nails into my skin... i don't think she was trying to hurt me though-"

shauna has already moved on, her hand moving to your lower thigh. she presses her palm down, causing you to wince at a bruise you didn't even know was there- how the hell did she know where your injuries were, but you didn't?

"what about here?"

"i'm not sure-" you stammered, searching for the reason as you replayed the event in your mind- "gen maybe? she kicked me pretty hard when melissa explained what happened but-"

shauna pokes at the bruise once more for good measure before going back to searching for another mystery mark somewhere along your body. another scratch, another scab, another bruise, another sore. she pointed out every little thing, giving each a firm squeeze forcing tiny pained gasps from your lips as she continued to pressure you into explaining the story behind each one.

shauna furrows her eyebrows, "you really think they'd save you? they want you dead. i'm your only hope."

you didn't answer, still refusing to accept the truth shauna was presenting to you.

she takes your silence as a sign to continue.

"they all hate you, you know that right?" she inches her way closer as she says it, her hands coming up to cup your face. you tried to turn away from her touch, but one of her hands moved to your chin, gripping it tightly as she forced you to look at her.

"i'm all you have left," she's closer now, closing the space between the two of you by quite literally crawling onto your lap. with nowhere else to put your hands you flatten them against your thigh, giving shauna all the more room as she continued to take up all the space in your lap, "and i think you know that too."

before you can even think of a solid response, shauna crashes her lips into yours.

shauna practically growls into your mouth as she pushes her body against yours. it's all tongue, teeth, and bottled up frustration, most of which is being taken out on you. it feels like she's trying to eat you alive, and you wouldn't be surprised if she was genuinely trying.

you don't notice it at first- the way she lazily rocks her hips- it's not exactly your top priority against the way she's trying to kiss you into the dirt. eventually she pulls away in favor of getting air (which the both of you hastily take in as if you had been living on the moon for the past ten years), and with your attention no longer being on making sure shauna didn't eat your tongue from inside your own mouth, you were finally able to acknowledge the bulge growing in her pants.

you glance at her, then at it.

back at her, back at it.

you feel like a pervert staring at her crotch for as long as you do, so you finally tear your eyes away and settle at looking at her face as if your eyes hadn't been glued to her dick for the past ten seconds.

"do you want some help with that?" to the best of your ability with your hands tied together the way they were, you cupped your hands and made an exaggerated tugging motion. you could practically see the gears turning in her brain, and when she grinned you purposefully strained your wrists against the ropes binding them together, "you'll just have to-"

"i'm not untying you."

damn.

fair enough.

shauna shifts onto her knees, placing one hand on your shoulder before using you as leverage to push herself to her feet. she over exaggerates it, pushing you harder than she needs to and damn near shoving you face first into the dirt floor. after nearly losing your balance, you correct yourself and sit upwards to get a proper view of the way she was now hovering over you, one of her hands burying itself in your hair while her other busied itself with removing her belt buckle.

you hated moments like these because if the circumstances were different, this would have been incredibly hot. you always thought shauna was pretty, and back home you probably would've fantasized about being tied up and at her mercy... you suppose in a way it was still kinda hot, but you didn't really have the time to dwell on that.

especially considering the way she begins to draw her knife with the hand that was once in your hair.

she doesn't do much with it- her hand, still gripping the knife, once again gets tangled up in your hair, so while it isn't actually prodding you it is there as a sort of warning... which was stupid considering you already agreed to get her off. you aren't sure why she's being so melodramatic, but then again you can't remember the last time shauna did something without an excessive amount of theatrics.

the buckle finally comes free and she tugs out her belt before dropping it to the floor... it takes her a hot minute since she's trying to remove her belt with just one hand, and it's lowkey embarrassing to watch but you pretend not to notice or judge.

once the whole spiel is over she locks eyes with you, cocking an eyebrow as if she expected you to do something.

"you don't expect me to take off your pants, do you?"

"what, you don't know how?"

"my hands are still fucking tied!"

shauna sighs, free hand hastily tugging down her jeans (and somehow also her boxers, impressively in just one motion), letting them fall to her ankles.

the hand against your head, somehow gentle despite holding a bundle of your hair in a tight fist, guides your head to meet her dick while her free hand mindlessly pumps her shaft.

you kiss her tip before taking it into your mouth, earning a soft gasp as she nudged you on, urging you to take more of her length. you try to focus on keeping your breathing steady as your head dips, lightly sucking as her dick slides further into your mouth. curiously you try to glance up (to the best of your ability) to glance at her expression, but not only was it difficult from your angle, she also proceeded to toss her head back as she shoves the rest of her cock with zero warning.

immediately you gag, to which she responds with a breathy chuckle before drawing back slightly and doing it again. you feel her tip hit the back of your mouth, and you try to pull back to regain your bearings but the hand in your hair keeps you steady, blade tight in her fist as a reminder to behave yourself.

she continues to roll her hips, occasionally pulling out just to drive her hips forward as if intentionally blocking your airway was her whole job. her sighs have morphed into groans, your own fear of being caught by how loud she was beginning to get quickly overruled by the fact that shauna didn't seem to care.

you can feel the cool metal from her blade press against the back of your head as she begins to get more sloppy. the knife is on it's side so at it's current it would have been unable to cut you, but should she continue to grow more careless you wouldn't be entirely surprised if it did happen.

before she could accidentally slice the back of your head open, she halts, her eyes rolling back as she shoves her dick in as far as it would go- not that you could see, the only information you received was the way her fist clenched impossibly harder as she broke into a strangled moan, ropes of her cum flooding your mouth and slinking down your throat. she pulls out slowly, and your immediate instinct to cough it up was cut off by her hands slamming over your mouth.

"swallow it." her voice was low and laced with authority, but you still (somehow) found it within yourself to whine and shake your head as a nonverbal NO. she furrows her eyebrows, forcefully tilting your head back as she once again ordered, "swallow."

you force yourself to relax, doing as she commands and shuddering at the sensation. she grins, ruffling your hair.

"good job."

her tone was weirdly sarcastic- you couldn't help but feel like she was toying with you, but before you could come up with some witty remark she's using one hand to shove you onto your back. you yelp in surprise while she sinks to her knees, promptly making her way on top of you and making herself comfortable on your chest.

in a way, it feels like you're cuddling but also not really. she's possessive about it, hooking her legs around your own and wrapping her arms underneath yours. if you were really cuddling, you'd both be comfortable, but there's a rock digging into your side and your head is still spinning from the impact, but you suppose when you're being used as a human pillow, your opinion doesn't really matter.

it's awkward.

you absolutely have to say something.

"so... what now?"

"...what do you mean?" shauna's response comes in a murmur- it seems like she's already falling asleep, tuckered out after cumming as hard as she did for the first time in quite a while.

"am i still due to be exiled?"

shauna snorts as if it was the dumbest question you could've asked, "obviously not."

"what do you mean obviously?" you press, with a little more aggression than you would've hoped, "they got majority. you said it yourself they want me dead."

"i overruled the decision," she sits upright, shuffling until she has your head boxed in with her forearms, "don't forget, I'M your queen now."

something about the way she says it makes you shiver.

"i... i don't understand..."

one of her hands reaches up to cup your face, her thumb affectionately running up and down your cheek after she notices the way you flinch from her touch.

"i'm in charge of what happens to you. your life is in my hands."

a smile spreads across her face as she studies your confusion. you try to come up with something to say, but your brain is foggy from the bullshit she was lobbing at you.

"in other words-" her tone was somewhat babyish, as if she was dumbing it down in simple words for you to understand- although it didn't take long for her harsh attitude to return, "you're all mine now."

and with that, she shuffles again and returns to her previous position, snuggling into your chest and trapping you down with her body weight.

"get used to it."

[hoiststowline]

hihii!! i've found your blog recently and i adore the diction in your writing, it flows so effortlessly- do you think you could do either tfp or tfa starscream with cybertronian (or human, whatever youre comfy with :3) reader giving him some long-awaited affection? cupping his face, all that kind of gentle stuff snff.. i feel after a long time of patience and gaining trust he deserves to let himself get lovins </3

_starscream x reader

[a/n: omg hii!!! thank you so much, that is so incredibly kind of you to say!! 🫶 & I'm so sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy!]

for wanting to extend something so sincere, it really had frustration settling in the pit of your stomach. fingers flex and wring together in your lap, gaze moving from wall to wall around the room, then finally settling back on the figure to your right.

every now and then, a ex-vent would tumble past his lips, irritated by an unknown as the silence returns. you assume he's busy, yourself ignoring the book you've now tossed to the side. evidently, having had enough, you abruptly stand, causing starscream who was laying beside you to shift his optics your way.

"What are you doing?"

his stare narrows, unimpressed by your indication that you were going to leave. you haven't moved, still facing him with somewhat of a pleading look on your face, gently rocking from your heels to the tips of your toes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" starscream gravels, pressing when you don't extend any sort of reason for your sudden action. "What do you want."

speaking softly, you reach out your arms forward with your hands out. "Can I...?"

with him laying on his berth in such a position, you're roughly face to face whilst you stand. his face is close, you can watch as somehow, it contorts even further, more into agitation when he doesn't understand your wordless proposal.

"Can you what?" starscream hasn't set his datapad down, but he also hasn't looked at it since you've moved away from his side.

he returns a grunt of annoyance when you roll your eyes, shuffling forward, still with your hands put forth. starscream retreats, not in disgust, but more so confusion, unsure as to why you were doing what you were doing.

"Use your words."

"Can't you just trust me? It feels disingenuous to try and explain it." you huff, shoulders drooping slightly.

little do you know, that starscream has very recently realized that he does trust you, perhaps coming to your defense a little more aggressively than really necessary. it had taken painful and sometimes discouraging effort on your end, for his emotional walls were so high you couldn't even see over them.

you don't need to know that you've bulldozed those walls, though. at least not quite yet, but he was genuinely perplexed as to what you were suggesting now. this hadn't happened before, and while he was accustomed to your touch, it hadn't really moved past his arm or shoulder.

"Whatever. Do as you wish." he snuffs, pretending to move back to his datapad yet still observing you from his peripherals.

you cross the remaining distance with a smile adorning your face, jumping to the tips of your toes as your palms land on his cheeks in a benign manner. starscream visibly stiffens, datapad going slack in his hold at your warm touch.

before he can even open his mouth, you lean forward, depositing a kiss atop his nose.

the kind and tender contact only lasts a handful more seconds, before you go to retreat. hardly blinking, a loud noise occurs, later you'd come to understand it was starscream chucking the datapad across to the other end of the berth.

two massive servos land atop yours, not heavy, a light presence, taciturnly begging you to stay. now having his undivided attention, starscream grumbles.

"You're the worst."

he doesn't mean it, only because the look in his optics is different that what he speaks. to his dismay, you respond with a round of muted laughter, having no intentions of going anywhere.

[jhyoos]

Off Limits

chapter four : heartbreaker

summary : after a night together, vi starts ghosting you and breaks off whatever she has with you.

mentions: angst, timebomb comforting reader, jayce being a dick, caitlyn still being a bitch, meljay, sevika mentioned, vi being toxic

<- previous chapter | next chapter ->

Ever since that night, Vi had disappeared. No texts, no calls—not even a lazy, teasing voice memo like she usually sent when she was too tired to type. At first, you told yourself it was fine, that she was just busy or maybe needed time. But as the hours stretched into days, that excuse started to feel thinner and thinner. You weren’t the type to chase, but with every glance at your phone, every time it vibrated with a notification that wasn’t her, frustration and confusion tangled inside you like a knot you couldn’t undo.

Then Monday came, and practice was moved to the soccer field since the gym was being used by faculty. It wasn’t ideal, but it was whatever. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself—until you spotted her.

Vi was there, running drills with her team, her usual confidence on full display as she barked orders and shoved teammates around in that rough, playful way she always did. And yet, the second you stepped onto the field, something in the air shifted. You could feel her looking at you before you even turned your head. When you finally glanced in her direction, she was already watching.

For a moment, everything else faded—the chatter of your teammates, the sound of cleats tearing through grass, even the cool breeze that brushed against your skin. It was just the two of you, standing on opposite sides of the field, caught in a silent stare that neither of you seemed willing to break.

You thought she’d smirk, maybe throw you a cocky wink like she had so many times before. But she didn’t. She didn’t wave, didn’t smile, didn’t even nod. And somehow, that hurt more than if she had just ignored you entirely.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away, pretending like it didn’t matter. Like she didn’t matter. But the ache in your chest said otherwise.

Something had changed. And whether you liked it or not, you knew this wasn’t over. It was only the beginning of whatever the hell this was turning into.

As you made your way toward the locker room, exhausted from practice, the last thing you expected was for Vi to grab your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You turned to her, brows furrowing as you met her gaze—serious, conflicted, but steady.

“I don’t think we should do… whatever we’re doing anymore,” she said, her voice tight, like the words were hard to get out.

You blinked at her, momentarily stunned. Then a sharp laugh escaped you, bitter and humorless. “Yeah, I kinda got that idea when you ghosted me after leaving my apartment yesterday.” You pulled your wrist from her grasp, crossing your arms. “Why are you saying this now?”

Vi shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through her hair. “I just—” she exhaled, shaking her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea anymore. Jayce has been on my ass, and if he finds out, he’s never gonna let me live it down.”

Your stomach twisted, but you held your ground. “You’re breaking things off because of my brother?”

She hesitated, avoiding your eyes for a split second before nodding. “Yeah… He’s like my brother too, and I don’t wanna do anything that could mess that up. I don’t wanna hurt him by dating you.”

You felt your heart drop. For a moment, you just stared at her, waiting for her to say something else—to take it back, to say she was scared, that this wasn’t about Jayce at all but about something deeper. But she didn’t.

A scoff left your lips, anger flaring in your chest, pushing past the hurt. “That’s such bullshit, Vi.” You shook your head, voice trembling despite how hard you tried to keep it steady. “You encouraged me to date you. You pushed me to say yes. You chased after me when I wasn’t sure. And then when I finally let myself… want you, you pull this?” You gestured between the two of you. “You can’t just act like it didn’t mean anything.”

Vi clenched her jaw. “It’s not that it didn’t mean anything—”

“Then what is it?” you snapped, your voice rising. “Because as far as I can tell, you were fine with this when you were flirting with me. You were fine when you kissed me. You were fine when you had me on your lap, riding your fucking thigh, Vi. And now suddenly, it’s a problem? You knew I was a Talis the whole damn time, so don’t act like this is some shocking revelation.”

Vi looked away, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She had nothing to say. Nothing to defend herself.

You took a shaky breath, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Your voice was quieter when you spoke again. “You could’ve just said you didn’t want me.”

Her head snapped up, eyes widening. “That’s not—”

“Save it,” you cut in, stepping back. You didn’t want to hear anything else. You didn’t want to give her the chance to soften the blow, to make it easier on herself.

You turned on your heel and walked away, wiping at your eyes before the tears could spill over. You weren’t going to let her see you cry. You weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had that power over you.

“Fuck you, Vi,” you muttered under your breath, disappearing into the locker room and slamming the door behind you.

The library was quiet, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights blending with the occasional sound of pages turning and muffled whispers. You sat alone at a whiteboard, forcing yourself to focus on your notes instead of the constant replay of that night in your head. The exam wasn’t for a few more days, but you needed something—anything—to drown out the emotions clawing at your chest.

Standing on a chair, you scribbled formulas and key terms across the board, biting your lip in concentration as you balanced on the wobbly seat. Your fingers gripped the marker tightly, and you exhaled slowly, trying to commit each word to memory.

Then, suddenly, two hands gripped the back of the chair.

The movement jolted you, making you lose your footing. Your stomach flipped as you instinctively grabbed onto the whiteboard, the marker smearing across the surface as you barely caught yourself.

"What the fuck?!" you snapped, your heart racing as you looked down.

Ekko stood there, a smug grin on his face, completely unfazed.

"Oh, fuck you," you huffed, stepping down from the chair with an annoyed glare.

"Heard you got broken up with," he said, way too casually.

You blinked. "How?"

Before he could answer, Jinx strolled up, a coffee carrier in hand. She set it down on the table, looking way too pleased with herself.

"Caitlyn," she answered for him. "She’s been spreading it around, so… be on the lookout for when Jayce texts you."

You let out a sharp exhale, running a hand down your face. Of course, Caitlyn couldn’t let things go. It wasn’t enough for her to be a controlling, petty mess—she had to make sure everyone knew she was a controlling, petty mess.

"She’s such a petty bitch…" you muttered under your breath, shaking your head.

"Which is exactly why," Jinx interrupted, leaning in with a conspiratorial smirk, "I think we should go to this street race."

You raised a brow. "What?"

"Just you and me—and a couple of other girls I feel you would love," she added, her grin widening.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "No way."

But the way Jinx’s expression shifted—the way she leaned against the table, twirling a straw in her iced coffee—told you she wasn’t letting this go that easily.

Ekko smirked, nudging your arm. "Come on, think about it. You’re already on Cait’s radar—why not give her something real to talk about?"

Jinx tapped a manicured finger against the table. "Imagine it: you, looking hot as hell, dancing, drinking, thriving while Vi—if she shows up—has to sit there and watch you having the time of your life. And Cait? Oh, she’ll be pissed."

You exhaled, pressing your fingers against your temples. The last thing you wanted was to play games, but… were you really just going to sit around and let Caitlyn run her mouth unchecked?

Ekko leaned in, lowering his voice. "If nothing else, you need a distraction."

You hesitated, knowing he was right. Your emotions were eating you alive, and pretending you were fine wasn’t making it any easier.

Jinx’s grin widened. "So? What’s it gonna be?"

After a long moment, you sighed. "...Fine."

Jinx pumped her fist. "Hell yes! I’m picking your outfit, no arguments."

"You are not putting me in something ridiculous," you warned.

"You’ll thank me when you’re the hottest one in the meet," she shot back, already pulling out her phone to make plans.

Ekko chuckled, clapping a hand on your shoulder. "Atta girl. This is gonna be fun."

You weren’t so sure about that. But at this point, what did you have to lose?

Hours later, you pulled up to the abandoned lot with Jinx and Ekko, the place alive with music, neon lights, and the unmistakable sound of engines revving. Cars lined the perimeter, their hoods popped open to showcase souped-up engines, while groups of people gathered around, placing bets and waiting for the next race.

Jinx had insisted you wear something eye-catching—something that would make Vi do a double take. You had begrudgingly agreed to a sleek, black dress that clung to you in all the right places, paired with combat boots that at least made you feel somewhat prepared for the chaos of the night.

The air smelled like burnt rubber and gasoline, a sharp contrast to the heavy bass thumping through the speakers set up along the lot. You could already feel the adrenaline, the buzz of excitement in the crowd as a pair of cars rolled up to the starting line.

"See? Way better than a club," Jinx said, nudging you with her elbow.

You crossed your arms. "I don’t know why I let you talk me into this."

"Because deep down, you love pissing off Caitlyn," she teased.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

Ekko scanned the crowd, then smirked. "Speak of the devil."

You followed his gaze, and sure enough, across the lot, Vi stood near a group of racers, dressed in her usual hoodie and jeans, arms crossed as she talked with someone. But the moment her eyes landed on you, her expression shifted.

Her jaw clenched. Her gaze swept over you, lingering a little too long before she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the cars.

You exhaled, heart pounding a little harder than you’d like to admit.

Jinx leaned in, whispering, "Oh, she’s pressed."

"Shut up," you muttered, but you couldn’t stop the small smirk forming on your lips.

The rumble of engines filled the air as the crowd began shifting towards the makeshift starting line. Two cars—a sleek, jet-black Nissan GT-R and a striking purple Dodge Challenger Hellcat—rolled up, their headlights slicing through the night. People gathered around, placing bets, hyping up the drivers, and waiting for the race to start.

Your eyes were drawn to the Hellcat’s driver as she stepped out, exuding nothing but confidence.

She was tall, her toned arms covered in intricate tattoos that stretched from her wrists up to her shoulders. The sleeves of her fitted black jacket were pushed up, revealing more ink along her hands and fingers. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight man bun, showing off the clean undercuts on both sides of her head. Dressed in ripped jeans, combat boots, and a half-zipped hoodie over a tight black tank top, she had that effortless, edgy look that made her stand out in the sea of racers.

But it wasn’t just her looks that caught your attention—it was the way she carried herself, the way she leaned casually against her car, arms crossed, exuding pure control.

And then her eyes landed on you.

For a moment, she just watched, expression unreadable, lips curled in something between a smirk and a challenge. Then, in one slow, deliberate motion, she tilted her head, gesturing for you to come over.

You hesitated, glancing at Jinx, who was already grinning like she knew this was about to be trouble.

"Well?" Jinx nudged you. "Go on, princess. She’s waiting."

You exhaled, pushing down the nerves creeping up your spine.

With measured steps, you walked over, the heavy bass of the music vibrating through the pavement beneath your boots. She didn’t move, just let her gaze rake over you before finally speaking, her voice deep and smooth.

"Didn’t take you for the street race type," she mused, arms still crossed.

You shrugged, tilting your head slightly. "Didn’t take you for the type to stare so much."

That made her smirk, a low chuckle escaping her lips. "Can’t help it."

She reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone before handing it to you. "Lemme get your number."

You arched a brow, glancing between her and the phone. "That’s bold."

She just smirked, completely unfazed. "I don’t waste time."

You tapped your fingers against your thigh, pretending to consider it before handing her phone back untouched. "Tell you what," you said, stepping closer, your voice dropping just enough to tease. "If you win, I’ll give you way more than my number."

That got her attention. Her smirk deepened, her head tilting slightly as she studied you.

"Yeah?" she mused. "Now that sounds like a challenge."

You shrugged playfully. "Guess you’ll have to prove yourself, then."

She pushed off the car, stepping just a little closer. Close enough that you could smell the faint scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne.

"Careful what you promise, princess," she murmured, voice dripping with amusement. "I never lose."

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you refused to back down. "We’ll see about that."

The crowd roared as someone announced the race was about to start. She gave you one last smirk before slipping into the driver’s seat, revving the Hellcat’s engine. The sound was powerful, sending vibrations through the ground beneath you.

Jinx appeared beside you, eyes wide. "Okay, who the hell was that, and why am I suddenly invested in this race?"

You didn’t answer.

Because truth be told, you were just as invested now.

The crowd buzzed with excitement as the racers revved their engines, the scent of burning rubber thick in the air. You stood near the sidelines, your arms crossed as you kept your eyes locked on the Hellcat and its driver. She sat there, one hand on the wheel, fingers drumming against the gear shift like she had all the time in the world. Completely unfazed. Completely in control.

Jinx nudged you. "You really put yourself on the line there, huh?"

You exhaled, shaking your head with a smirk. "She won’t win."

Jinx snorted. "You don’t even know what she can do."

You shrugged, but in truth, you weren’t as confident as you sounded. That girl carried herself like a winner. Like someone who was used to getting exactly what she wanted.

And for some reason, tonight… that seemed to include you.

A woman in tight leather shorts and a cropped racing jacket stepped into the middle of the lot, raising her arms to quiet the crowd. "Alright, listen up! This one’s a quarter-mile straight shot—no turns, no bullshit. First one past the marker takes it all!"

The drivers revved their engines again, and the air practically vibrated from the sheer power behind them. You swallowed, heart pounding as the girl in the Hellcat flicked her gaze toward you one last time.

Then the race girl raised both arms.

"Three… two… one—GO!"

The second her hands dropped, tires screeched against asphalt, smoke curling into the air as both cars launched forward.

The Hellcat jumped off the line, the deep growl of its supercharged engine drowning out everything else. But the GT-R was quick too, hugging the pavement as both cars shot down the strip at insane speeds.

The crowd roared, everyone pressing forward to watch the two machines tear through the night. The drivers barely had time to shift, their acceleration maxing out in mere seconds.

Your breath caught as the Hellcat edged forward.

Then the GT-R pulled even.

The finish line was approaching fast, a spray-painted marker across the pavement. The two cars were neck and neck, neither driver backing down—

Then, at the last second, the Hellcat surged forward.

A split-second difference, but enough.

The crowd exploded as the race girl threw up her arms, signaling the winner.

The Hellcat had won.

Your stomach flipped as you realized what that meant.

Jinx wheezed beside you, gripping your arm. "Holy shit—you’re so fucked."

Your heart pounded as the purple Challenger slowed, tires skidding slightly as the driver swung it around and rolled back toward the crowd. The other racer slammed his fists against the steering wheel, cursing, but no one was paying attention to him anymore.

Because she had won.

And now, she was coming straight for you.

The Hellcat rolled to a slow stop in front of you, its engine still humming like a caged beast. The driver stepped out, boots hitting the pavement with purpose, her full height now on display. She was built—broad shoulders, muscular arms covered in tattoos that told stories you’d never get to hear unless she wanted you to. The sleeves of her fitted black hoodie were pushed up just enough to show the ink wrapping around her forearms, and her hair was pulled into a tight man bun, exposing the sharp undercuts along the sides of her head. Everything about her screamed confidence. Control.

She stalked toward you, completely ignoring the roaring crowd, her focus entirely on you.

"Told you I’d win," she said, her voice smooth but edged with amusement. She stopped in front of you, leaning in just slightly. "So… what’s my prize?"

Before you could answer, a new voice cut in.

"Like hell you're getting anything from her."

You turned just in time to see Vi pushing through the crowd, her jaw tight, shoulders squared like she was ready to swing.

The amusement in the girl’s eyes flickered into something more intrigued as she glanced Vi up and down. "And you are?"

Vi scoffed. "Someone who doesn’t like sleazy assholes sniffing around where they don’t belong."

The taller woman chuckled, slow and mocking. "That so?" She stepped closer, towering over Vi now. "Funny, ‘cause from where I’m standing, looks like she’s the one who wants me."

Vi’s eyes flashed, and before you could blink, she grabbed the girl’s hoodie by the collar, fisting the fabric tight. A direct challenge.

Gasps and shouts erupted around you as the tension in the air spiked.

"You wanna test that theory?" Vi challenged, voice low, dangerous.

The girl smirked, completely unfazed. "You sure you wanna do this, princess?"

You had enough.

"Vi, let her go."

She didn’t move, her grip still locked tight.

"Vi. Now." Your voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Her jaw tightened, but after a tense moment, she let go, shoving the girl back slightly before stepping away.

"Go find Caitlyn to bother," you snapped, not even sparing her a second glance.

Vi clenched her fists, looking like she wanted to argue, but you weren’t giving her the chance.

Without another word, you turned back to the driver, ignoring the way Vi’s glare burned into your back.

"So," you said, slipping your hand into hers with a smirk, "let’s go claim your prize."

The girl grinned, her fingers closing around yours as she led you straight to her Hellcat. The doors unlocked with a single click, and without hesitation, you got in, leaving Vi fuming in the crowd behind you.

The second you stepped inside, Jayce was already waiting. Arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched tight, eyes dark with frustration. He wasn’t just mad—he was furious.

"Where the hell have you been?" His voice was low but sharp, cutting through the silence of the house like a blade.

You barely had time to close the door before he was on you.

"Out," you muttered, kicking off your shoes like it was no big deal.

"Out where?" he pressed, stepping closer. "Because Vi told me you were at a damn street race in the middle of the night. And then you left with some random criminal—"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Vi seriously ran to you like a little snitch?"

"Don’t make this about Vi!" Jayce’s voice rose, his anger bubbling over. "This is about you and your dumbass choices! Do you even realize how reckless this is? You don’t need to be around that shit!"

You exhaled harshly, already feeling your patience wear thin. "Jayce, I wasn’t drinking, I wasn’t doing drugs, I wasn’t even racing! I was just watching—"

"But you left with her!" he cut in, voice sharp. "You barely know this girl, and you just got in her car like it was nothing! Do you even think before you do shit?"

"Oh my god," you muttered, rubbing your temple. "You're being so dramatic—"

"I’m being dramatic?!" Jayce let out a bitter laugh, running both hands through his hair. "You were at an illegal street race, surrounded by people who wouldn’t think twice about screwing you over, and I’M the dramatic one?"

You clenched your jaw. "I know what I’m doing. I was with Ekko and Jinx…"

"No, you don’t!" He shook his head. "You think you do, but you don’t! You’re making the same stupid decisions you did back then, and you know where that landed you?" He pointed at you, voice full of raw frustration. "You almost ruined yourself. You almost fucking died."

Your stomach twisted.

You hated when he brought that up.

"I’m not gonna relapse," you said through gritted teeth.

Jayce exhaled sharply, looking at you like he didn’t believe a damn word. "You say that, but with the decisions you’re making? I doubt that."

That one hit. Hard.

Your breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening.

"You shouldn’t feel like you have to be my parent, Jayce," you said, voice trembling slightly. "That’s not your job."

"Yeah? Well, it sure as hell feels like my job!" he shot back. "Mom’s never here, and you think I don’t have to worry about you? You think I don’t see how close you are to throwing everything away again?"

You swallowed hard, your hands curling into fists.

Jayce shook his head, his tone suddenly quieter, but just as sharp. "I have no time for myself anymore. No time for my own life, my own relationship." He let out a bitter laugh. "Mel and I barely get any time together because I’m too busy making sure you’re still alive."

Guilt crawled up your spine like ice.

You hated that. Hated that he resented you for it.

"I didn’t ask you to do that," you muttered.

"Yeah? Well, I didn’t have a fucking choice!"

“I have better grades than you Jayce. I’ve had more jobs than what you’ve had. I’m not the one you should be ‘taking care’ of!,” you say

Silence.

The air felt suffocating, thick with things neither of you were saying.

And then, the voice you really didn’t want to hear right now.

"Jayce’s right."

Your whole body tensed.

You turned slowly, your stomach sinking at the sight of your mother standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

But that was the problem. It was always unreadable.

"You need to be more careful," she said simply, her voice calm. Too calm.

That was it?

That was all she had to say?

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Of course," you muttered, voice laced with disbelief. "Of course you take his side."

Your mother exhaled through her nose, stepping down the stairs slowly. "Sweetheart, no one is against you," she said in that carefully measured voice—the one that always made you feel like you were the unreasonable one. "We just don’t want you to go down the wrong path again."

Your throat tightened.

"I won’t," you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper.

She reached out, cupping your cheek in her hand. Her touch was warm, gentle. It made you feel small.

"You say that," she murmured, tilting her head. "But how can we trust that?"

Your breath hitched.

A lump formed in your throat, your whole body locking up as something sharp twisted inside you.

You hated this. The way she always knew exactly how to make you doubt yourself.

Before either of them could say anything else, you stormed upstairs, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you.

You barely made it to your bed before the tears finally spilled over.

You sat on your bed, staring blankly at the wall, your mind still reeling from the argument. Your hands were clenched into fists on your lap, your breath uneven as the weight of the night pressed down on you.

Then, your phone buzzed.

You glanced at the screen, your heart dropping when you saw Vi’s name.

For a moment, you considered letting it ring out. Ignoring her. Pretending she didn’t exist. But your anger was boiling over, and before you could stop yourself, you answered.

"What do you want?" you snapped.

Vi hesitated on the other end, exhaling softly. "Look, I’m sorry," she said. Her voice was quieter than usual, lacking the usual cocky edge. "I was being selfish. I shouldn’t have—"

"You went to my brother?" you cut her off, your voice sharp with disbelief. "You’re so fucked up in the head, Vi."

"Wait, just let me—"

"Now you’re fucking up my head," you continued, your grip tightening on the phone. "You cut me off, then you try to fight the person I’m trying to move on with, and now you run to my brother?"

Vi was silent.

Your breath was shaky, but you forced the words out anyway. "I’m done. Delete my number."

And before she could say another word, you hung up.

You stared at your phone for a second, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Then, without another thought, you threw it onto your nightstand and turned off the light, willing yourself to disappear into the darkness.

taglist : @mommymilkers0526 @rhian88 @wrappedinvines @nanajustnana-a @prettybunnyscorner @s7nburn @ghutzz4gutz @pornoangelz @veladeangl @hauntedbydreams @taurtel @lorasdolly @catvi6luvr @savedforlaterr @eggphobic @alex-thegiraffeboyy @artfairyyyyy @jordynhartley2001 @ellieslefttit @h0n3yf0rlif3 @rizzscary @bjjeweledx @cherrybomb2298 @brooks-lin @vintagekarma @ags-artnstuff @axolotl-arsonist @mingitheii @baylegend6 @kiiramiz @lez-zuha @jupitism

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Hiii - could you do one with Park Humin, him and the reader have known eachother since they were kids but have a frenemies to lovers vibe? and they confess towards eachother while arguing??👀

"Can’t Stand You" — Park Humin x Reader (Frenemies to Lovers)

humin x reader

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The streetlights flickered above them like they were about to die, matching the exact vibe between Y/N and Park Humin as they stormed down the sidewalk in silence—heated, stubborn silence. The same kind that had built up between them since middle school, since he pulled her pigtails and she threw a pencil at his head.

They’d always been like this. Side by side but never quite on the same page. Childhood best friends who never admitted it. Teenagers who walked home together while pretending they couldn’t stand each other. Adults now, still orbiting each other in a dangerous loop, pretending it didn’t burn to look.

“You know,” Y/N finally snapped, tired of how he always got under her skin without even trying, “I don’t even know why I agreed to come with you tonight. You’re the worst person to hang out with.”

Humin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Then don’t. No one dragged you, Y/N. You practically shoved yourself into my car like always.”

“I only went because Minseok bailed on me,” she shot back. “It was supposed to be a group hangout. Not whatever this was.”

“Oh yeah?” he turned on her, slowing to a stop under the streetlight. His eyes were sharp, annoyed. “Maybe you should’ve gone crying to Minseok instead of acting like you didn’t want to come with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His jaw was tense. “You act like I annoy you so much, but every time I try to pull away, you show up again. You always come back.”

Y/N glared at him. “Don’t act like you don’t do the same thing. You’re always texting me first, picking stupid fights, getting under my skin just to get a rise out of me—what, is that how you get off?”

“I like getting under your skin!” he snapped, frustrated. “I like making you mad! At least it’s something. Better than you ignoring me or talking to me like I’m just some guy you used to know.”

“Then why are you acting like you hate me half the time?!”

“Because I don’t!” His voice cracked, eyes burning into hers. “I don’t hate you, okay? That’s the damn problem.”

Silence. Her breath caught in her throat.

Humin’s fists were clenched at his sides, breathing hard, like he’d just thrown a punch. His words echoed between them like a challenge.

Y/N blinked, confused and pissed and stupidly hot all at once. “You don’t hate me?”

“I never did,” he said, quieter this time. “You’ve always been the one I—” He cut himself off, teeth grinding. “Every time I saw you laughing with someone else, I wanted to rip them away. Every time you looked at me like I was just your dumbass friend from third grade, it made me crazy. You don’t get it, do you?”

She swallowed hard. “Then explain it to me.”

He took a step forward, jaw clenched like he was bracing himself. “I liked you since we were fifteen. Maybe even before that. You were loud and annoying and stubborn and better than everyone, and I couldn’t stop looking at you. But you kept pulling away.”

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

“Bullshit,” he said sharply. “You knew. You just liked watching me squirm.”

“Maybe I did,” Y/N said, stepping closer until there was barely space between them. “But you never said anything. Just teased me, pushed me, made me hate how much I wanted you.”

His breath hitched.

“Yeah,” she said, heart pounding. “I wanted you too, you idiot.”

That broke something in him.

He grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her like it was everything he’d ever tried not to say. It wasn’t soft. It was heated and messy, a clash of teeth and tongue, hands tugging, clutching, nails digging into fabric. She shoved him against the streetlight pole and kissed him back harder, like she had years of resentment to burn through.

“You’re so annoying,” she muttered against his lips.

“Say it again,” he growled, pulling her tighter against him.

“You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re the reason I can’t sleep at night.”

His hands slid down to her waist, gripping tight. She didn’t pull away.

When they finally broke apart, panting, her forehead against his, Y/N whispered, “So what now?”

Humin let out a breathless laugh. “Now we stop pretending. And I stop letting you run.”

“I never ran,” she said. “I was always here.”

He stared at her, eyes softening for the first time in hours. Then he kissed her again—slower this time, like he couldn’t believe it was real. And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was years of fighting that finally snapped. Or maybe, just maybe, it was always meant to be this way: furious, magnetic, inevitable.

Either way, he wasn’t letting go.

Not this time.