#i feel like he doesn't fit in the world but whatever

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Since reading that ask about Chloe where you linked Sara Z videos, I wanted to ask, if you'd be willing to share, what you plan for Chloé in your rewrite of the show. I'm not asking if you "think she should be redeemed" bc that is a child in a cartoon lol-but I mean to ask how you'd write, well, whatever happens in her story. Growth or not or a roller coaster of ups and downs.

Overall I really enjoyed your changes to the world and characters and I think about that version of Miraculous often. The scenes where Adrien tries to talk to Chloé about her behavior really stood out to me. I'm just curious to pick your brain a little lol.

(Post in question)

I am a total sucker for a good redemption arc. I like seeing people change for the better! However, just because I like a redemption arc doesn't mean that I'm going to throw one in for no reason. This is especially true for Chloé since redeeming Chloé is not something that you can do with ease. It eats up a lot of screen time because Chloé is not an easy character to redeem. She needs a lot of active attention. That's a problem because this isn't her story. It's Adrien and Marinette's, meaning that the only reason to redeem Chloé is if you want to tie her into one or both of their character arcs.*

That's why I don't blame anyone for ignoring Chloé or only hinting at redemption. Unless you're making her the main character or giving her a big role in the lead characters' story*, you really shouldn't redeem her. The show actively shows why! Felix, Sabrina, Nathalie, and Gabriel's "redemptions" all fall incredibly flat because those stories lacked substance. They needed a lot more screen time to work and a formula show is never going to be able to pull that off.

Now that I've given those disclaimers, let's talk about why I would absolutely take the time to redeem Chloé if the format allowed for that kind of story. The answer is quite simple: Adrien needs an arc focused around setting boundaries and learning that you can't live your life focused on making others happy. An arc where he learns how to decide when he wants to give someone a second chance and when he wants to give up on them. He also needs to learn that giving up on them is okay. That you can't set yourself on fire to keep others warm.

This arc cannot be about him and his father. Adrien is too young for that. The power balance is too stacked against him. He can't cut his father off at fifteen and the arc can't happen after the terrorist reveal makes cutting Gabriel off a possibility in spite of Adrien's youth. That's way too much way too fast. You need a less serious relationship to give this arc to so that it can take its time to be messy and complex. When you embrace the hinted at childhood friendship between Chloé and Adrien, she becomes the perfect fit for this kind of arc. A person who Adrien has equal power to and who he can muddle his way through things with, letting them both learn and grow into better people, setting the stage for Adrien to avoid completely falling apart when he learns the truth about his father. That's why Adrien so desperately needs an arc like this. His naive little sunshine self simply isn't ready to face the Gabriel reveal until he's done some major growing up.

Obviously you could use this setup to give Chloé a damnation arc, but as I said above, I'm a sucker for a good redemption. I want Chloé to be a better person and find happiness! There's also the fact that a damnation arc doesn't work as well as a redemption in this context. It's important for Adrien to be able to make the choice to give Chloé another chance and to have that choice be a struggle. Something he really has to work through. If he abandons Chloé and never looks back or welcomes her back without a second thought, then you're not setting him up to deal with the fallout of what's coming with his father. Chloé needs to feed like a proper proto Gabriel. You want her and Adrien's story to end in a way that makes you feel like he really is as ready as he could ever be to face his father.

It's also worth noting that, if Chloé really was Adrien's childhood friend, then she should have some sort of relationship with Gabriel and/or Emilie. She should know the Agreste's family dynamics way better than any of his new friends, which is another reason why I like redeeming her. I want Adrien to have someone who really gets it.

*If Miraculous was the kind of show where side characters consistently took center stage for a while, then Chloé being redeemed without a clear tie to the leads could work. It's a nice way to pad out the run time and is what I originally thought the show was doing with her. But Miraculous has no interest in giving anyone a proper story, not even the leads, so I'm still baffled by the choices the writers made with Chloé. I will never fully get what was going on there.

[shrimpsuru]

Completely forgot I had this sketch laying around and finally decide to finish it! I drew this guy after watching a whole lot of March comes in like a lion, he's vaguely an oc for the show. He's got anger issues along with mommy issues, he's an obnoxious fella,,

[longagoitwastuesday]

Jacob Elordi and Margot Robbie as Heathcliff and Cathy seems like out of The Onion

[princessconsuelapark]

gungi, a child, who

- traumatically had his entire family slaughtered

- is currently being hunted and treated as something to be SOLD

- desperately seeking out his home planet, he knows barely anything about, and only remembers from DREAMS, and NOT EVEN WHAT VILLAGE HE COMES FROM

finds a village of his own kind slaughtered and burnt to ashes and the sight forces him onto his knees, symbolising the hopelessness of ever finding a place of belonging ever again ??? dave, my kind sir, pray tell WHAT THE FUCK

[cluescorner]

I doubt they would survive a day in their own communities. Like, have y’all ever interacted with LGBTQ+ people IRL?? It’s really cool. Genuinely was a wonderful experience for me. Met someone who went by it/its pronouns because it saw that as the only way to distance itself from the demand to fit into boxes implanted on it by humanity. Met someone who goes by any pronouns and faer does that for the exact same reason as the person above. He and it were besties, hearing their discussions on gender was really fucking cool. Made me question my gender, I found out I’m cis but it was still a good experience. More relevant to this post, you’ve also got a pack of wild lesbians who congregated once while I was volunteering: me the young’un (cis, she/her, femme lesbian, has sensory issues with penetration of any kind but isn’t ace), an elder lesbian (bacla, she/he/siya (no preference but one of those) likes penetrative and non-penetrative sex), and a lesbian roughly between our ages (trans, she/her, about 4 months into socially transitioning, asexual). We’re just...talking about being lesbians and our differing experiences. It’s great, we taught each other a lot in the day we knew each other! Siya helped teach me about ways to explore myself and my preferences without triggering any averse reactions, I helped the trans lesbian vibe with wanting to be more gender conforming and traditionally ‘feminine’ (teaching trans femmes the joys of spinning around in frilly dresses is so nice), and she helped our elder get caught up with modern gay news. We left our stations and I’ve never seen either of them again, but this shit is so fun and so much better than arguing with randos about whether or not they ‘count’ as a lesbian. Imagine if I did what tiktok does and spent that whole time saying that our elder couldn’t be a lesbian because siya doesn’t strictly identify as a femme-aligned person or that the trans lesbian was teaching him about the ‘wrong’ gay news because most of it involved ‘bad rep’. Say what you want about cheesy cishet friendly romcom fodder, but seeing my elder beam at the idea that non-LGBTQ+ people cared about our stories on a large scale made that mediocre movie worth existing. IDK, people need to get involved in their communities (online or offline) and meet gay people outside of their immediate bubble. 

TLDR; I’m 90% sure people involved in gay discourse have never actually spent time around gay people outside of their immediate bubble and that makes me sad. Talk to people y’all, it’s great. 10/10, would recommend. 

people on tiktok would never survive a day on tumblr

[qilinkisser]

walks in holding a giant ass sign that says "BEING CUPIOROMANTIC IS LONELY AS FUCK I'M GONNA BURN A BUILDING DOWN"

[luveline]

i NEED anything with glasses reid or munch reid i’m literally frothing at the mouth 🙏

ty for ur request :D fem!reader

"Emily," you say weakly. "What is that?" 

Emily looks up from her desk, clearly desperate for a distraction, the lip of her coffee mug against painted lips. "What's what?" 

"That." You point. You feel sick to your stomach. "That right there." 

"Oh," Emily says happily. "You finally noticed. Yeah, Spence forgot to renew his contact prescription. He has to wear glasses for two weeks." 

Spencer stands by the photocopier with a perturbed frown, clicking a button, then another. His brow is furrowed and his hair is falling into his eyes. He has the stupidest, dorkiest, prettiest face, and practically every expression he makes has you weak in the knees.

"That long?" you ask. 

Derek looks up in concern at your pained tone, following the line of your eyes. When he realises what it is that's hurt you so, he skirts around the desk to shake your shoulder. "You could always tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'd keep the lenses forever if he knew you liked them." 

"I don't like them," you say. You sound faraway to your own ears. You hate them. They're gonna be your demise. 

Spencer runs a fingertip across the photocopier's screen, in his own world as the machine finally begins to chug out whatever it is he'd been wanting a duplicate of. The frames of his glasses sit snug on his nose. You can tell from even this distance that the lenses make his eyes look a tiny bit smaller. You could probably point out a misplaced freckle if he asked you to.

"Don't be cruel, he looks cute," Emily teases. 

Spencer collects his papers, shuffling them into a straight line as he makes his way back to the bullpen. You pretend to take interest in Emily's things. She sips her coffee too nonchalantly. Derek doesn't even bother pretending. 

"What?" Spencer asks, swift to spot your suspicious behaviours. "Is it the glasses?" 

You wince. "Of course not. You look… you look really nice, Spence." 

"You know he used to wear 'em every day?" Derek asks.

You would've died. "Before I joined?" 

"For a few years," Spencer says, looking you over. "You're unhappy. Is something wrong?" 

He looks to Derek and Emily for confirmation. Emily stutters for an answer while Derek laughs in the background, "She– you know. She just– She missed breakfast!" 

Spencer pushes his glasses up his nose by the leg and drops his copies onto the desk. "I have dried apricot in my bag. Two seconds." 

He bends over his chair to retrieve his bag from under the desk. Your eyes blow wide at his position, the sudden demonstration of well-fitted pants. Derek's laugh echoes up to the eaves. 

"And he has that twenty four seven," Emily says against the rim of her coffee. 

You scrunch your eyes closed and tilt your head back. After a few seconds, a hand touches your elbow gently, a hesitance that comes with only one member of the BAU. "You okay?" Spencer asks. 

"I'm okay. Headache," you lie. 

Spencer presses the apricot into your hands. "Maybe you should see an optician. You know they can tell if you have a brain tumour from one photo of your sclera?" He smiles morbidly, his glasses slipping down his nose. "They measure the size of your optic disk. It takes less than a minute. I can give you the name of my doctor, if you want. She's nice. Not as nice as you." 

Your throat is so dry you can't form words to answer him. He doesn't judge your rigid nodding. 

"I'll write down the number for you. And, Y/N?" 

"Yeah?" you choke out. 

"You look really nice today, too." 

Emily has to kick you in the leg to bring you back to earth. Stupid Spencer. Stupid lovely glasses. 

[itadorey]

𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 (?) 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄— gojo satoru

pairing: racer!gojo x race engineer!reader genre: formula 1 au, fluff summary: he's insufferable (and wants to ask you out) and you're just trying to help him win the championship notes: formula 1 has ruined my life. probably lots of inconsistencies but i sped wrote this. this turned out a lot longer than i initially planned. gn reader but mention of wearing a dress. word count: ~3.2k

It's hot.

Your nose scrunches up in mild disgust as you feel a bead of sweat trickle down your neck, quickly making it's way towards the collar of your shirt before it's wiped away with a soft towel.

"Thanks," you mutter, looking up to meet a pair of bright blue eyes accompanied by a swoon-worthy smile. You huff lightly at the wink Gojo sends your way, turning away slightly to let your eyes roam over the rest of the paddock. Your lips turn up into a smile when you catch sight of Geto Suguru walking past your garage, and you return his greeting with a wave of your own before you hear Gojo grumble from his place beside you.

"Fraternizing with the enemy," he says, annoyance coating his words. He crosses his arms, unintentionally flexing and drawing your gaze towards his torso. His black fireproofs fit him snugly, and you find your mouth going dry as you try your best not to ogle him. You wonder if the temperature's gotten hotter. "That's not very nice of you."

"He's not the enemy," you protest, turning away to grab Gojo's helmet before thrusting it into his chest. "He's your best friend."

"Off track he is," Gojo agrees, holding onto the helmet. He pulls you in slightly, raising a brow when you don't immediately let it go. "But on track, he's my biggest competition. So you should be focused on me, not him. He's only a handful of points behind me."

"I'd hardly call one hundred points a handful," you mutter, turning to the side to grab a clipboard. "I think you're guaranteed to win the championship this year. Plus, Megumi's been doing great as well. Kid is in third place and it's only his second year! I think we've got the constructor's in the bag as well."

"All I need is a couple of bad races and next thing you know, Geto Suguru is the 2024 World Champion."

"Bad races," you snort, guiding Gojo towards his car and shoving his balaclava into his free hand. "Gojo Satoru does not have bad races. I don't know how you do it. I feel like you never drop below second place."

"It's all thanks to those genius strategies of yours," Gojo quips, watching in amusement as you shake your head in mild disbelief. There's a soft glint in his eye that you never seem to notice, and he finds himself wondering if maybe he should be a little more obvious about his feelings. (Everyone else on the grid and even the majority of the fans know he has the hots for you, so really, you're just the densest person to exist).

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say, waving him off as you start to make your way towards the rest of your team. "Pull your suit up and go get settled in."

Gojo watches you for a couple of minutes, leaning against a cement column with his arms crossed. He doesn't know how, but watching you organize the team and go over your notes has become his pre-race ritual. He's so lost in thought that he fails to notice the cameras pointed at him, broadcasting the lovestruck look on his face for everyone watching the race live to see.

"Ready to go?"

Gojo snaps out of his daze when his team principal, Yaga Masamichi, comes up to him. There's a faint smirk on his lips as he motions towards you, his sunglasses hiding the teasing glint that Gojo just knows is present. "Or is there something you need to urgently discuss with your beloved race engineer?"

Gojo rolls his eyes but chooses to remain silent before pulling his balaclava over his head. He's abnormally quiet as he settles into his seat, and when he catches sight of you giving him a thumbs up from afar, he decides to ask you out right after he beats Geto and wins first place.

"Radio check."

"I can hear you loud and clear," you respond, your voice carrying the same lilt that Gojo's does. He laughs quietly, settling into the second position after the formation lap. A glance to his left leaves him scowling when he sees Geto flip him off, and he sighs deeply before realizing that his radio is still on. "Something wrong?"

"Just Suguru being an asshole," he responds, his irritation fading away when you attempt to choke down your laughter.

"Radio is still on," you manage to spit out. "Mind your language."

"You can reprimand me later," Gojo says immediately, well aware that his radio has probably drawn the broadcaster's attention. "Over dinner, maybe? Just you and me in the candlelight at that little Italian place you like."

"Win the race and then maybe I'll consider it," you hum, amusement tinging your words as you shake your head. Gojo can't help but pout when he realizes that you're dismissing his words as a joke, and he merely huffs before turning his radio off and telling himself that he has to beat Geto to the first turn if he wants any chance of winning this race.

It isn't long until lights out, and Gojo finds himself reacting just quick enough to push past Geto's car and take the lead. He catches a glimpse of Megumi gaining on Yuuji, eventually passing him and allowing him to start catching up to Geto. Seeing that his biggest competition is now being distracted by his teammate, Gojo turns his focus back to the track, trying to put as much distance between him and Geto as possible. A few laps pass before he hears his radio crackle to life, and he hears you speak softly so as to not startle him with the suddenness of your words.

"You're seven seconds ahead of Geto," you say, earning a hum of acknowledgement in return. "You also currently have the fastest lap so please focus on managing your tyres."

"The tyres are fine," Gojo's voice trills through your headphones. You glance over at Yaga, grimacing when you see him shaking his head.

"There's been reports of graining," you respond nonchalantly. "Please take better care of your tyres unless you want us to pit you earlier than planned and switch to plan B."

"Alright, whatever," Gojo grumbles, going quiet for a few seconds before speaking once more. "Now let me focus on driving. The sooner I win, the sooner I can see your pretty face."

You roll your eyes at his words, raising an eyebrow in confusion when Yaga fails to muffle his amused chuckle.

"Something funny?" you ask, leaning back slightly to look at the older man. He holds his hands up in surrender, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the monitor in front of him. You roll your eyes briefly before turning back to the pit wall as well, ignoring the words Yaga mutters under his breath about someone being oblivious.

The race progresses smoothly, and you find yourself feeling thankful that both you and Tsumiki (Megumi's race engineer) have had an uneventful race so far. It isn't until the race is about a third of the way through that you finally turn the radio on again, holding out a hand to stop Tsumiki from doing the same. "Gojo? We are boxing next lap, do you copy?"

"Copy," he responds immediately, his tone uncharacteristically serious for once. "Are we sticking with plan A?"

"Yes, you listened for once," you confirm, nodding your head even though he can't see you. "You have enough of a gap that we can comfortably put you on hards and have you back in the top spot in no time. The track is warm enough for those tyres."

"I always listen to you," Gojo replies without missing a beat. "Anything you say goes."

A deep sigh is all he gets in return, and he can't help the small chuckles that leaves his lips as he finishes his lap and prepares to pull into the pit lane. The stop is performed without a hitch, and you sigh in relief when Gojo emerges in third place, only a couple of seconds behind Megumi. You exchanged nods with Tsumiki, and you turn your attention back to the monitor in front of you as she radios Megumi to come in for his pit stop next.

"Okay, Gojo," you speak when you see Megumi head into the pit lane. "We're getting Megumi in and out as fast as possible. Geto is about ten seconds ahead of you, it's time to push."

"Perfect, but not as perfect as you" Gojo sings, swearing as he takes a turn a little too wide.

"Make that eleven seconds," you correct, biting your lips to hold back a laugh when Gojo swears again. "Go do your thing. I'll keep you updated."

There's no response as the radio clicks off, and you find yourself wincing when you realize that Megumi's slow pit stop has dropped him down to fifth place behind Yuuji's twin brother, Sukuna. You can hear hushed words coming from Tsumiki, and you can't help but feel bad for her predicament considering that Sukuna is the reason that Megumi hadn't been able to finish his race a couple of weeks ago after being pushed off track and into the barrier.

You watch with bated breath as the gap between Gojo and Geto begins to close, and you cross your fingers and hope that Shoko, his race engineer, will choose that moment to call him in for a tyre change. Your hopes go unanswered, and you're on the edge of your seat when Gojo managed to catch up to Geto after ten laps.

The air feels tense as you and Yaga watch Gojo get incredibly close to Geto, separating from him right as he turns a corner to avoid being hit. He's close to him— too close, you think— and you find yourself taking a deep breath to prevent yourself from turning on the radio to tell him to stop being so aggressive. A glance to your right tells you that Yaga isn't concerned with Gojo's driving, so you decide to let him be and see how the situation works out.

Your fingers grip onto your clipboard, knuckles going white as Gojo manages to swerve himself into the spot right next to Geto. You're slightly awestruck as you watch Geto and Gojo race wheel to wheel, their synchronicity impressive as they take tight corners and long straights in unison. There's a brief moment during which you wonder what it would be like if they were teammates, and you shake your head to clear the thoughts from your head. You fear that being teammates could damage their friendship beyond repair.

"There's been contact!" Yaga shouts, snapping you back to reality. You scramble for the radio button, a gasp leaving your lips as you watch Gojo swerve close to the edge of the track. You see Geto move in the opposite direction, and you quickly scan all the monitors before speaking to your racer.

"Gojo, there was contact but the car seems to be perfectly fine," you say calmly, watching as he straightens himself out and passes Geto. "That's P1."

"Great!" Gojo replies breathlessly, his voice sounding slightly strained. "How is Geto? Is he fine?"

You take a second to glance to the side, receiving a nod from Yaga before he motions to the pit lane. A soft call of your name has you turning your attention back to the radio, and you nod to yourself before updating Gojo. "He's fine, slight front wing damage so Shoko brought him in to get that changed along with his tyres. You're in the lead and we're waiting to see what the stewards will say about the incident. We think you might get a warning."

"Alright, better than a penalty," Gojo says, nodding to himself as he takes another turn. "Just a couple more laps and then I can take you out for that dinner."

"I said I'd think about it," you reply dryly, ignoring the giggle that leaves Tsumiki's lips. "Just bring it home. Geto had a bad pit stop so him, Yuuji, and Megumi are like fifteen seconds behind you."

"Whoa! Megumi made it past Sukuna? The kid's got balls."

"Language, Gojo," you remind him, sighing softly. "I'm turning the radio off now. Don't fuck this up."

"Language!" Gojo mocks, his laugh cutting out as you turn the radio off. You spend the last quarter of the race watching Megumi alongside Tsumiki, slightly impressed as Gojo manages to retain his now sixteen second lead. It isn't until Geto manages to break away from Yuuji and Megumi that you start to get nervous, and you watch as he begins to push the last few laps of the race.

"Gojo?" you ask, the radio crackling to life as you watch the monitors. "Just letting you know that Geto has managed to pull ahead of Yuuji and Megumi. I don't think he can catch up but there's still a couple of laps and he always manages to surprise us."

The silence you receive unsettles you, and you mutely turn the radio off and sit back to watch the end of the race. There's not much you can do but rely on Gojo to pull through, and you can vaguely hear Tsumiki talking to Megumi over the radio as he battles with Yuuji. You're on the edge of your seat when Geto manages to set the fastest lap in the race, and you begin to worry that he might be able to catch up to Gojo, only for your fears to be quelled when you realize that it is the final lap of the race.

"Last lap, Gojo!" you call out, turning the radio on in excitement. "Bring it home!"

"Last lap?" he asks, laughing breathlessly when he receives a hum from you. "How far behind me is the next car?"

"Fourteen seconds," you respond, bouncing your knee up and down in anticipation as he turns the last corner. The upcoming straight is the only thing between him and the finish line, and you feel your heart drop when Gojo's car suddenly starts to lose speed. "Gojo? Are you losing power?"

"Nope!" he chirps cheerily, humming softly to himself. "Are you feeling Italian? We can always choose a different restaurant for dinner?"

You do your best to ignore the anxiety creeping up your spine, watching as Gojo trails towards the finish line at what can only be described as a snail's pace compared to the speed of Formula 1 cars. Your eyes widen when you see the gap between him and Geto close, and you do your best to not let your nervousness creep into your tone. "Gojo, is really not the time to be talking about dinner."

"But you're going out to dinner with me right?" comes his immediate response.

"Gojo, please hurry up and cross the finish line."

"Not until you agree to go out with me!" he trills. Yaga shoots you a pleading glance.

"Gojo! Please! Just win the race!" you beg, swallowing harshly as your fingers begin to tap against your clipboard. You catch a glimpse of the amused look on Tsumiki's face, but you're unable to give her the scathing glare you usually would due to the fear you're beginning to feel.

"I can stay here all day," he replies smugly, giggling to himself as he speeds the car up just to slow down once more. "Well I can't, but I can stay here until I cross the finish line in P20."

"Oh my fucking god," you nearly shriek, watching as Geto takes the final turn and begins to head down the straight. "Yes! Yes, I'll go out with you, Gojo! Now please just cross the damn finish line, you dumbass!"

"My pleasure!" he teases, slamming his foot down on the accelerator just in time to cross the finish line a second before Geto. A loud whoop leaves Yaga's mouth as everyone in the pit wall relaxes, too relieved by Gojo's win to instantly realize that Megumi has managed to cross the finish line before Yuuji. The cheers surrounding you sound muted as you put your head in your hands, trying to calm your racing heart and fight off a smile as you realize that you now have a date for the night.

You barely process anything as Tsumiki drags you towards the now parked racecars, and you try your best to ignore Shoko's smug smirk as she whispers into Geto's ear. You think it's safe to assume that she's filling him in on what happened with Gojo during the last lap.

His loud laugh accompanies by a friendly wink thrown your way confirms your assumption.

You stand near the back of the crowd as Gojo stands on top of his car, holding his pointer finger up and posing for pictures before leaping back onto the ground and proceeding to congratulate Geto and Megumi for their performances. You manage to catch his eye after a few minutes, and you feel your face grow warm when a genuine smile spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling as he makes his way through the crowd towards you.

"Congrats on P1," you say quietly, trying your best to ignore the way he's looking at you.

"All thanks to your genius strategies," he quips, repeating his words from earlier. The smile on his face tells you that he wants to make a suggestive comment, and you do your best to redirect the conversation before he can.

"You should probably head into the cooldown room," you comment casually, tilting your head in the direction that Geto and Megumi had disappeared to. "Podium celebration is about to start. Don't forget to get weighed."

"Don't forget to wear that pretty, red dress I like," he responds confidently. A surprised laugh leaves your lips at his comment, and you can't help but shake your head fondly as you finally look up at him.

"You know, you didn't have to give me a heart attack during the race. You could've asked me out after the race like a normal person. I would've said yes," you confess, becoming hyperaware of all the attention the two of you seem to be drawing.

"What can I say?" Gojo responds, shrugging half-heartedly as he takes a few steps closer to you. He's close enough that you can see the varying shades of blue in his eyes, and you resist the urge to jokingly push him away when he loops an arm around your waist. "I tend to have a flair for the dramatic."

"Oh boy, don't I know it," you whisper, not giving him the chance to respond before you loop your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss. Both of you faintly register the whoops and cheers surrounding you, and you can't help but break apart from each other as laughter starts to bubble up in your throats.

It isn't until you fully pull away from him and usher him towards the cooldown room that you notice the sheer amount of cameras that have been pointed your way, focusing on the moment that has just been shared between the both of you. An embarrassed noise escapes your lips as you duck into your team's garage, giggling when you hear Yaga congratulating you loudly on your win. A smile spreads across your face as you settle into a seat to watch the podium ceremony, and you find yourself wondering if you and Gojo will manage to evade the press when you finally leave the track.

It's safe to say that the internet has a field day when the news of Gojo's end-of-race stunt and your spontaneous kiss breaks.

ty for reading!! rbs are appreciated <3

[logansdoll]

I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

[mr-jack-letterman]

We need more young stan content out here.

And nah I ain't talking about 12 year old Stanley or 30 year old mullet Stan, I'm talking 17 year old, slicked back hair, acne riddled Stan pines.

Yeah that one.

I am so happy mullet Stan is so popular because his fit slaps ngl and the angst is so potent I can't not respect it. But teenage Stan has so much potential it's driving me insane.

There is a line dividing the 17 years of relative happiness Stan had with Ford and the 10+ years of depression and crime he had on the streets, and teenage Stan uses that line as a goddamn jump rope.

Seriously, depending on how you look at it dude is either living his best life or is fighting for said life in the trenches of homelessness and poverty.

I see a lot of content regarding Stan on the streets but it only ever focuses on 30ish Stan in his later years of homelessness where he's already a hardened adult after years of dealing with this bullshit. But Stan didn't just drive away and then magically turn 30. There were times in those first few months after Stan got kicked out where he was in his car, trying to sleep, probably starving, while still being fundamentally a child.

Hell, compared to the 30ish age of mullet Stan and the 60+ year old con man he'd later become, teenage Stan is damn near a baby. There's a certain brightness about him, a sort of warm naive optimism that still clings to him because he's straight up just too young to know any better.

He's still fully convinced he's gonna make it rich and go back to his family in a few years. He still believes wholeheartedly that even if shit sucks right now, eventually everything is gonna be okay. It has to be. But it's not gonna be okay. It's not gonna be okay for a long time. And some parts are just never gonna be okay.

Seeing a happy and oblivious teenage Stan feels like watching a baby lamb walk into a slaughter house.

The next 10-something years are going to tear him apart limb from limb. In 40 years he's going to wake up on a boat during a bout of amnesia thinking he's in Columbian prison, or he's locked in the trunk of a car and about to drown, or his shoulder is on fire and his brother is gone, or it's the end of the world and everyone he ever dared to give a shit about is about to die in front of him and it's all his fault because he was too weak to stop it.

At some point, a young Stanley is going to get into his first true life or death fight. He doesn't even have to be involved with crime yet for it to happen. He's probably bruised and bleeding, with not nearly enough money to afford a doctor. He's sitting in the driver's seat of his El Diablo having a complete and utter break down because he almost died and suddenly everything is real.

Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing is going to be okay and whatever is left of his teenage innocence, naivety, and warmth dies in that car and it never comes back.

The next 10+ years are going to fundamentally change Stanley as a person and he's never going to be the same ever again. But teenage Stan doesn't know that, he's still a kid trying to sleep in the back of his car, ignoring hunger pangs and finding comfort in the half baked business ideas his mind cooks up because he doesn't understand how utterly done for he is.

12 year old Stanley I believe is so appealing because of his bright rambunctious spirit. He's still just a kid playing on the beach with his brother, but so was teenage Stan. I just wish the wholesomeness that comes with that and the subsequent hurt that follows as that spirit is broken over and over again by the world was explored more.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 06

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (male + female receiving), cigarettes. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 12 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

Being fuckbuddies with Sukuna is surprisingly easy. As flustered as you sometimes get when you think about what the two of you do, all that shyness leaves you the moment you are in Sukuna's arms. The moment your clothes are off and you start touching each other, all shame is forgotten. Your sexy little arrangement opens a whole new world to you. You aren't very experienced when it comes to sex, but Sukuna is the perfect person to show you new things.

Of course, there are also people who don't see it that way. Nobara doesn't get tired of rolling her eyes at you anytime she sees you with your phone in hand, assuming you are texting Sukuna and making plans to see him.

"When I said you should maybe fuck him, I meant once! Not whatever it is, the two of you are doing now. You should be careful. Sukuna is a fuckboy. You are just another notch on his bedpost!"

"I told you, I don't want him to be my boyfriend! I am not interested in a relationship either. Sukuna is a fun pasttime. That's all. Maybe I want him to be just a notch on my bedpost, too!"

You know Nobara is just worried about you, and maybe her warnings are valid, but you refuse to listen to her. Your past experiences with relationships left you not wanting to ever fall in love again. What Sukuna offers you sounds safer. No feelings, just casual sex with the hottest guy you have ever met.

You're in Sukuna's bed, your gaze feasting on his gorgeous body. A body he works hard for in the gym every single day. Firm muscles and sexy tattoos. And you are allowed to touch this beautiful body as much as you like.

You trail kisses down Sukuna's broad chest, following his tattoos with your tongue, and his large hand tangles in your hair, rewarding you with his sexy low moans and whispered encouragements in his sexy, velvety voice. You slow down when you are insecure about your skills in the bedroom, but Sukuna is surprisingly patient with you. Sweet even.

There is no pressure, no shame. You start to suck his cock tentatively, smiling sheepishly at him, apologizing for being bad at blow jobs, and instead of getting mad at you, Sukuna cups your cheek and caresses it with his thumb while he grins at you,

"You're doing great, princess, and I can teach you the rest."

And suddenly, it's easy. Sukuna smirks at you and places a large hand on the back of your head, petting your hair while he guides you gently up and down his thick cock, telling you what to do, teaching you how to blow him right. Reassuring you that it feels good when you just French kiss his cock and use your hand for the part you cannot fit in your mouth.

Sukuna is a good teacher, making you feel like you are doing a good job because of the sexy praise his low, raspy voice whispers to you,

"Fuck yeah, just like that, princess. Just make out with my cock. You're doing so good. So sweet for me."

You moan around Sukuna's thick cockhead, feeling your own arousal coat the insides of your thighs, so turned on from what you are doing to Sukuna. It makes you suck even more devotedly on Sukuna's fat cock, licking the throbbing vein on the underside and suckling sweetly on his mushroom tip.

You feel him twitch in your mouth, and for a second, you worry if you will be able to swallow his cum without coughing, but then Sukuna's heavy-lidded maroon gaze meets yours, and a lazy smirk lifts his lips,

"I wanna cum on your face. Be a good girl for me, and just lick my tip until I bust all over your pretty face."

You moan and do as Sukuna says, kissing his tip and licking it, flicking your tongue against it in little kitten licks as if you are licking up milk from a bowl, all the while keeping eye contact with Sukuna. Shameless and naughty, feeling so turned on that you think you may cum too just from making Sukuna cum with your mouth.

And he does cum so beautifully for you. His tattooed thighs tense up, and his cock twitches as a low growl falls from Sukuna's lips. You moan when his swollen mushroom head shoots hot thick ropes of cum all over your face. And Sukuna licks his lips when he looks at you with that sexy, fucked-out expression on his beautiful tattooed face, his gaze following his cum that drips down your chin.

"You did so good. So sweet to me and my dick. Come here, princess."

Sukuna pulls you up into his arms, grinning as he cups your chin with one large hand and then his mouth opens, and he licks a stripe up your cheek, licking his own cum off your face, making your pussy clench around nothing.

You moan, your hands caressing Sukuna's broad chest, digging your nails into his buff pecs as he licks you clean. It is so obscene, so naughty, so fucking sexy. So different from everything you experienced before him. It's you who captures Sukuna's lips in a kiss, craving more, craving his taste. And Sukuna grins against your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth, feeding you his cum, letting you lick it off his tongue.

It's a feverish, sloppy kiss, tasting like sex, and it makes your head spin and moan loudly against Sukuna's lips. You press needily against Sukuna's broad figure, trying to climb on him, throwing one leg over his waist, rubbing your wet needy clit against his abs.

He grins against your lips, pulling away only to wrap his hands around your waist and pull you closer to him, closer to his beautiful tattooed face. You gasp softly when you realize what Sukuna is about to do.

"Don't be shy, princess, just sit on my face. It's your turn now."

You moan breathlessly when Sukuna's strong hands pull you on his face, making your naked dripping-wet pussy brush against his warm mouth, sending sparks of desire through your whole body. You whimper, body shaking from the strain of keeping yourself upright, but Sukuna makes a disapproving noise,

"Come on, sit on me for real. I can take it, princess. Sit."

And he grabs your hips tightly, pulling you down, his lips instantly closing around your swollen clit and sucking on it, making a desperate horny cry tumble from your lips as the pleasure shoots through you.

Even if you still wanted to stay upright, you couldn't do it anymore. You are boneless in Sukuna's grip, lost in pleasure, letting Sukuna take care of you, letting him pamper your pussy with his soft, warm mouth.

You rest your whole weight on him, thighs spreading even further, shamelessly and needy, bucking your hips and rubbing your wet pussy eagerly against his hot lips and velvety tongue, crying out in pleasure when Sukuna's tongue pushes into you, fucking you slowly while his long fingers knead your ass and keep you in place right there on his beautiful tattooed face.

He eats you out until you are a trembling, sobbing mess, crying out anytime Sukuna's soft lips suckle on your clit or when he fucks you with those slow teasing flicks of his tongue.

You feel the pressure inside you build, the knot in your belly so close to snapping, and you tense up, trying to get away from Sukuna's mouth because the pleasure is too much, and you are scared of losing control. But Sukuna's strong hands hold you in place, pulling you back down.

"Just let go for me, princess. I came on your face. Now it's your turn. Make a mess on me."

Sukuna's lips close around your puffy clit again, and you mewl loudly. It's the combination of his words and the way his lips make out with your clit that sends you over the edge.

You cry out his name, your hips bucking wildly as you cum on Sukuna's face, hard and wild and very wet. Your juices drip from his lips even as he keeps eating you, making you cry and scream and bang your fists against the wall behind his bed right beneath the Tigers flag hanging there, while you cum and cum and cum until you feel dizzy.

You feel light-headed when you finally manage to get up from Sukuna's bed. It still feels surreal to see the resident hockey star walking around naked in his room, picking up your clothes from his bedroom floor and placing them on the bed for you. But it's not as awkward anymore. It's almost nice. Sukuna talks casually about the away game the Tigers will play this weekend, and you nod and make some agreeing noises from time to time while you get dressed next to him.

You leave Sukuna's room, making a joking comment about the chaos Yuuji once again left in the living area, and Sukuna asks you if you will meet for lunch tomorrow. You nod and grab your jacket from the back of the couch, about to say good night to Sukuna when the apartment door swings open, banging loudly into the wall, making you jump.

Yuuji and Todo march inside, loud and excited, swinging baseball bats in their strong arms, and Yuuji announces loudly,

"Yo we got the bats, Kuna! Megumi just wants us to bring them back before morning. Let's go!"

His eyes land on you standing next to his brother, and he smiles sheepishly, but his voice still holds the same excitement when he greets you. Todo bumps into Yuuji, making him stumble further into the room, and Todo's gaze wanders from you to Sukuna and back again, fixing you with a scrutinizing gaze as if he is trying to figure something out.

You smile a bit awkwardly at the two hockey players, but Yuuji has already proceeded with his agenda. He throws a baseball bat at Sukuna, who catches it with one hand, twirling it around his long tattooed fingers. A broad, devilish smirk spreads over his face, and you get a tingly feeling in your stomach.

"Good job. Let's teach them not to fuck with Curses."

You look at him in alarm. At the mad grin on his tattooed face and the baseball bat, he's slinging over his broad shoulder.

"Um, what is this about?"

Yuuji and Todo both start talking at the same time, but you can make out the words,

"Rival team." "Revenge" and "Tonight."

Your eyes widen, and you stare in dawning horror at the baseball bat that's now resting on Sukuna's shoulder. Sukuna catches your gaze, and he throws his head back, laughing loudly,

"Your face, princess! Don't worry, we aren't going to kill someone. We will just smash that stupid ice sculpture they have. They deserve it after the shit they pulled on us."

"B... but where is that sculpture, and aren't you going to get into trouble for smashing it?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you, his smirk growing broader, clearly enjoying himself.

"It's in their arena, of course. We'll pick the lock, get in, and smash that ugly-ass bear. It's no big deal. It's just a revenge prank."

You stare at him incredulously,

"That's burglary and property damage!"

But Sukuna just grins even more, looking like the damn Cheshire Cat with that dirty, smug smirk on his beautiful face. His voice drops to a teasing drawl,

"Aww, are you worried about me getting into trouble? You're so cute, princess. But this is hockey code. We will just teach them a lesson."

He twirls the baseball bat elegantly around his long fingers as his gaze snaps to his linemates.

"Alright, Curses. Let's go. Let's fuck them up. I want to make those losers cry."

He looks far too happy about what they plan to do. As if it isn't a completely reckless and dumb idea! Your heart is beating up to your throat as you give Sukuna a stern look,

"This is fucking stupid! You can't do that!"

Sukuna cocks his head, raising an eyebrow,

"Well, watch me, princess."

He puts a large hand on your shoulder and steers you out the door even while you complain loudly. But he just smirks while you try to reason with him all the way down the staircase.

You exit the dorm, and Sukuna leads your little group to his car. Yuuji and Todo climb into the back, all excited chatter and broad grins, the baseball bats firmly in their large hands. And you huff and put your hands on your hips, stepping between Sukuna and the car, not caring how ridiculously you must look, so much shorter and smaller than the huge, strong hockey player with the bad boy look and the face tattoos. You tilt your head back to glare up at his tattooed face,

"Stop it, Sukuna. This is so fucking dumb! I don't understand why Fushiguro, of all people, would support something like that!"

Sukuna laughs softly, shaking his head and smirking at you,

"Good thing Fushiguro has a weakness for my brother. I bet it only took one smile and a whiny "Megumiiii" from Yuuji, and our baseball star handed him the key to the Wolves' equipment rack. But now tell me, why do you care so much, huh princess?"

His smirk is so smug that you feel like shaking him, but you just sigh and glare at him,

"Yeah, okay, I admit it! I don't want you to get into trouble! Are you happy now?"

The look that spreads over Sukuna's face is far too pleased. He steps closer to you, tall, muscular body towering over you while he grins at you,

"Very happy. But as I said, I won't get into trouble. Now get out of the way, princess, and let me take my revenge. They started it by cutting the shoelaces on our skates."

You roll your eyes,

"They cut your shoelaces? And now you go and break in and destroy their expensive ice sculpture mascot or whatever it is? Don't you think that's a bit much?"

"Well, I always avenge things threefold. How would they learn their place otherwise? Noone fucks with me or my team."

And with that said, Sukuna puts his hands on your waist and just lifts you up, and places you down a few steps away from his car, slipping past you before you can do anything. You complain loudly, but Sukuna is already lounging in the driver's seat with that boyish smirk, winking provocatively at you with a "Good night, princess."

You don't know what has gotten into you, but you react impulsively and jog around the car, yanking open the passenger door and plopping down on the passenger seat, and this time, it is Sukuna who can't do anything to prevent it.

His gaze snaps to you, and you grin victoriously at him, almost laughing at the thunderstruck expression on Sukuna's tattooed face.

"What are you doing, princess? Get out of my car."

You cross your arms in front of your chest, shaking your head, grinning smugly at him.

"Forget it. I am not getting out of this car. If you want to go to your little illegal prank, you have to take me with you!"

Sukuna looks at you for a long moment, and then his lips twitch as if he is trying hard to hold back laughter. Your tummy does a flip at the mischievous expression on Sukuna's face, slowly realizing that maybe what you did wasn't the smartest thing either. Maybe you shouldn't have picked a dance with the devil.

But it's too late. Sukuna smirks at you, the tip of his tongue playing with the pointy tip of one of his canines, a devilish, excited sparkle filling his maroon eyes,

"Okay, have it your way, brat."

And with that, Sukuna starts his car, flooring the gas pedal immediately, making you squeal loudly when you get pressed into your seat. Loud music blares from the car audio, and in the backseat, Yuuji and Todo chime a Tigers cheer, pumping each other up as if they are about to get on the ice, only contributing even more to the adrenaline-inducing atmosphere in the car.

You scramble to grab your seat belt and fasten it with sweaty fingers while you hear Sukuna's loud laughter. You wrap your hand around the grab handle, staring wide-eyed at the nightly street before you. Sukuna drives fast and recklessly, and to your horror, you see him take his hands off the steering wheel, steering with one knee so he can light a cigarette while driving.

"Sukuna!"

He smirks but puts a large hand lazily on the steering wheel, slowly drumming his fingers on it,

"Relax, princess. I am not going to crash my car and kill us all. I know what I am doing."

You roll your eyes at him when he turns his head to grin at you.

"You are such an idiot, Sukuna. I am going to kill you if this lands us in jail or in the ditch!"

But Sukuna just smirks even more broadly and brings his cigarette to his lips to take a deep drag and then blow the smoke in your face. But you have the feeling that the car isn't driving as fast anymore.

You sigh dramatically and hug yourself, snuggling into the car seat, watching the dark road ahead, refusing to look at Sukuna. Your lips twitch when you hear Yuuji and Todo sing along to the song playing on the stereo, one doing pretty well, the other hitting not a single note.

And after a while, your gaze strays again to the boy next to you.

Sukuna's long tattooed fingers, with the accurately applied black nail polish, tap the steering wheel in sync with the beat of the music. His other hand is resting on the open car window. Occasionally, he brings it to his lips to take a slow drag from his half-smoked cigarette. His lips move silently to the lyrics of the songs, his eyes trained on the road before him.

You have to admit that after the initial panic, you now feel pretty safe and relaxed here in Sukuna's car. He is actually a good driver, even though you will never tell him. And he looks very cool driving a car, so calm and confident, making your gaze stay glued to him. To his beautiful side profile with the angular jaw and the filigree tattoos, and those sultry lips wrapping so attractively around his cigarette.

You catch yourself almost enjoying the car drive, breathing in the cool night air and Sukuna's cigarette smoke, letting both calm you down.

But the relative calm is gone the moment Sukuna parks the car on the side of the road near the Bears' hockey arena. Your pulse is racing again, adrenaline filling your veins.

Sukuna turns to his linemates with a jerk of his chin.

"Okay, get your baseball bats and then smash that fucking thing!"

His maroon gaze lands on you,

"Slip into the driver's seat, princess."

You blink at him, caught off guard,

"What?"

"You'll be our getaway driver. The moment you see us coming back, you start the car."

He says it nonchalantly as if it is the most natural thing to demand.

"What the fuck, Sukuna?"

"You said you don't want us to get into trouble. So this is how you can help us avoid trouble. You will get our asses out of here, princess."

He flashes you one of his most charming grins and then exits the car, leaving you sitting there with your mouth opening and closing. But Sukuna points adamantly to the now vacant driver's seat.

You sigh exasperatedly, rolling your eyes, but you have to admit that Sukuna has a point. The last thing you want is to get caught because the boys take too long to start the car after returning from their stupid prank.

And so you take a deep breath and do as Sukuna says and climb into the driver's seat, squealing when you lose balance because Sukuna is so much taller than you, and his seat is practically in the back of the car, making you ask yourself how Yuuji even had space in the back. You curse and grab the steering wheel, pulling yourself and the seat further to the front so you can reach the gas pedal, while Sukuna watches you with a far too amused expression on his face.

You finally sit properly in the driver's seat, giving Sukuna a glare and a thumbs up, and he smirks at you,

"That's my lucky charm, helping me even on hockey duties outside the rink."

"Just go, and please try not to get caught!"

You watch the three hockey players jog toward their rivals' arena. All three of them are dressed completely in black with the hoods of their sweaters pulled up, their tall, broad figures blending with the darkness around them. They really look like a bunch of criminals with their baseball bats in their hands.

Fuck, how did I get myself into this?

You sigh and let your head fall back against the headrest of the car seat, breathing deeply in and out in an attempt to calm your nerves. The car smells like cigarette smoke and Sukuna's cologne, which is not really helping you calm down but instead makes your stomach flutter even more.

You nervously pick on your nails as you let your restless gaze wander through Sukuna's car. Black leather seats, which are worn but clean. An empty energy drink sits in the middle console next to a cigarette pack. Some protein bars peek out of the door pockets. Your gaze lands on the rearview mirror, and you spot a scented Hello Kitty head dangling from it. You stare at the cat's face for several long seconds, and suddenly, your lips twitch, and you giggle, pressing a hand over your mouth, unable to stop anymore.

Your nerves are on high alert the whole time while you wait in the car, your heart jumping to your throat anytime you hear the slightest noise while the occasional hysterical giggle escapes your mouth.

The minutes seem like hours as you nervously watch the darkness before you. And then you finally spot a movement in the darkness. You gasp and sit up straight, your hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as you squint your eyes.

Three tall, broad figures appear, running like madmen. You scramble to turn the key in the ignition, breath coming out in excited little huffs as the engine starts with a low hum right when the three boys reach the car.

They yank open the car doors, laughing and yelling. Yuuji and Todo pile into the back while Sukuna sprints around the car and lets himself fall onto the passenger seat, a wild grin on his tattooed face, eyes brimming with the same expression he has after scoring a goal,

"Drive, princess!"

He doesn't have to tell you twice. You press your foot down on the gas pedal, speeding down the road, eager to get away from the crime scene as fast as possible.

The music blares out of the speakers again, and the boys hoot with laughter and high-five each other, turning the car into some after-game celebration party, chaotic and loud, and your veins sing with adrenaline, making you drive even faster, and you can't help but feel a small grin tug at your lips.

You drive through the town, feeling like everyone must know that you have three players from the rival team in the car, and they just wrecked the local hockey team's ice sculpture.

You stop at a red light, heart pumping wildly in your chest, giving the woman in the car next to you a nervous little smile as she looks over at the black car with the loud music and the hockey boys, but your attention gets stolen by the pink-haired boy next to you.

Sukuna's large hand grabs your chin, making you turn your head to him, and he grins broadly at you, eyes sparkling with excitement and pride, and he leans closer, licking the side of your face, making you screech loudly. He laughs against your skin before he presses a loud smacking kiss on your cheek, which makes Yuuji and Todo in the back cheer and whistle loudly.

Sukuna pulls away again, laughing that sexy low laugh,

"Great job, partner in crime."

And finally, you can't hold back anymore and burst out laughing loudly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes,

"You are fucking crazy, Sukuna. All of you are crazy!"

And Sukuna smirks and cocks his head,

"But you like it."

The traffic light turns green at that moment, and you start driving again, finally feeling at ease. You can't help but grin broadly and turn the music up louder as you cruise through the town with a car full of hockey players. You have no idea when your hand ended up on Sukuna's thigh, but it stays there almost the whole drive back to campus.

Once you are back on your campus and have parked the car in front of Sukuna's dorm, the four of you get out of the car, and Yuuji and Todo give you high-fives and big grins. Todo nods appreciatively at you,

"You are a first-class getaway driver! I had my doubts about you when I saw you earlier, but my man Sukuna has shown me today that he has top-tier taste in women!"

You blink at Todo, not really knowing how to react, and end up just laughing and clapping his burly back before Yuuji grins at you and pulls you in a quick half-hug,

"That was amazing! Thank you for getting us away from there! Do you know that Sukuna usually never lets anyone drive his car? He punched me once when I took it to drive to the cinema."

"Yeah, because I know that you are a horrible driver."

Sukuna gives his twin a light smack on the back of his head, and you laugh, feeling bubbly from all the adrenaline still flowing through your veins. You can't stop the big smile from spreading over your face when you look at Sukuna. He watches you with his cat-like eyes, a lazy smirk on his tattooed face, looking far too pleased, but you can't be mad at him. Not when you feel so light-headed from your little adventure.

Yuuji and Todo bid their good nights, quickly leaving to return the baseball bats before someone notices they are missing. And you smile at Sukuna and tell him that you will walk back to your dorm now, too. Sukuna takes a step closer to you.

"I'll walk you home, princess. There are too many bad boys on the street at this time of night."

"You mean, like you?"

He just grins and falls in step beside you. You don't say it, but it tugs strangely at your heart that Sukuna refuses to let you walk alone at this hour of the night.

Sukuna lights a cigarette and then reaches out to put a strong arm around your shoulder and pull you against his side, making you smile and lean against him.

He teases you the whole way to your dorm about how worried you were and how your face had looked so stern and shocked when you tried to stop them from their plan. And you complain playfully about it, telling Sukuna that he and his linemates need a watchdog or some restraints to keep them out of trouble.

You finally stop in front of your dorm, and you pull away from Sukuna, letting his arm slowly glide down your shoulder. You instantly feel cold when Sukuna's warmth is gone, making you wrap your arms around yourself, but it isn't the same.

Sukuna grins at you while his cigarette dangles from the corner of his lips. And then he reaches out to put a large hand on your hair and ruffle it, maroon eyes sparkling teasingly in the light of the streetlamp, just waiting for the loud squeal of complaint he knows will come.

His large hand is still in your hair, but it cups the back of your head now, keeping you in place as Sukuna leans down. And then you feel his lips press a kiss to your forehead. A gesture that makes your eyelashes flutter because it's so uncharacteristically tender for a guy like Sukuna.

But the moment is over before you can really grasp it, and Sukuna pulls away, flashing you another boyish smirk before he turns around to walk back to his dorm. A tall, broad figure clad entirely in black with pastel pink hair and a little cloud of cigarette smoke billowing behind him.

And you stare after him with a wildly pounding heart, thinking that you haven't felt this alive in a long time.

It's Saturday evening, and you are bored, slowly sipping the drink in your hand while trying to pretend you are listening to the conversation going on in front of you. If things had gone your way, you would be in bed now, snuggled comfortably into Sukuna's soft, white hoodie, reading a book or watching a show. But Nobara was very adamant about going to this party in Maki's dorm.

"I am not walking in there on my own like some loser! You will come with me!"

And then she added, with a sneaky little grin,

"I heard that the hockey team will come too after they return from their away game."

You sighed and complained, but in the end, you played along and let Nobara drag you here.

But now you regret it. You aren't in a party mood tonight, and you don't know anyone except Nobara and Maki, who are busy making heart eyes at each other, making you feel like the third wheel.

A commotion at the door makes you turn your head, and you see several hockey players entering the apartment, getting high fives and claps on their backs for their win today. You can't help but crane your neck, waiting for pink hair and a smug smirk. But Sukuna is nowhere to be seen.

Your shoulders slump. You don't even know why you feel disappointed that he isn't here yet or maybe won't come at all. But somehow, the thought of having him here and being able to joke around with him had, for a second, been able to lift your mood. Maybe this boring party would have been enjoyable with Sukuna by your side.

You are about to leave for the kitchen to get another drink when your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, grinning when you see the text message.

Sukuna 🏒👑: Are you at the party, princess?

You: Yeah, I am here. Are you coming, too?

Sukuna 🏒👑: I'm already here.

You: I didn't see you. Where are you?

Sukuna 🏒👑: Come find me ;)

You chuckle softly to yourself as you lift your head to scan the room again. You excuse yourself from Nobara and Maki, deciding to wander around a bit and look for Sukuna.

Suddenly, the party doesn't seem so bad anymore. Your steps feel lighter, and you smile at the strangers you walk past. Your little tour through the apartment isn't successful, though. It's a mystery to you how a big guy like Sukuna is able to hide from you in this relatively small apartment. But then your gaze lands on the door that leads to the backyard.

Cold night air blows in your face as you stroll into the dimly lit backyard. And finally, you spot the pink hair you were looking for. Sukuna is leaning against a tree, a cigarette between his lips, smoking and looking bored.

You can't help but smile as you hurry over to him.

"Hey! What are you doing out here on your own?"

Sukuna huffs and rolls his pretty eyes,

"It's a boring ass party, plus I can't stand most people in there."

You raise an eyebrow at him, and his smirk grows bigger as he ruffles your hair and adds,

"With the exception of you, of course."

You laugh softly and shake his large hand off, smoothing down your hair as you look up at Sukuna's tattooed face and ask him,

"How was your game?"

"We won. Showed those fucking Bears what hockey is."

"Congrats! But how did they react to their smashed ice sculpture?"

You can't keep the slight worry out of your voice, but Sukuna laughs, eyes sparkling with amusement,

"They held a memorial event for it before the game started."

You chuckle, too.

"Do they know you guys did it?"

Sukuna shrugs, his smirk widening,

"I sure hope so. I would be insulted if they didn't."

He takes a deep drag from his cigarette, tilting back his head and slowly blowing the smoke out as he looks up at the night sky.

He looks beautiful, even though he has such an intimidating appearance with his face tattoos and his tall, broad figure.

Tonight, Sukuna isn't breaking into his rival team's hockey arena, but he still looks like someone who is up to no good with all his tattoos and his all-black clothes, a tight black t-shirt that shows off his firm pecs, and impressive biceps, and black cargo pants combined with combat boots. He looks like someone who would usually make you switch street sides if you saw him walking towards you at night.

But you know Sukuna now. You know that he is actually pretty nice if he wants to be. It's fun to be around him, and sometimes even peaceful, like tonight. Sukuna is definitely the only one you want to have by your side at this stupid party.

As if he heard your thoughts, Sukuna's gaze lazily wanders over your face, and he smirks softly.

"I'm not in the mood for that shitty party. Wanna leave?"

You answer him with a broad smile and a nod,

"Okay, let's go."

Sukuna flicks his half-smoked cigarette into the grass and jerks his head towards the fence behind him,

"We'll take that way, princess. Don't wanna run into my teammates."

And before you can point out that you are too unathletic and not tall enough to believe in your fence-climbing skills, Sukuna has already grabbed your hand and pulled you along.

Sukuna's hand is warm and strong and so much bigger than yours. Your pussy involuntarily clenches at the feel, making you silently curse yourself for having such a strong reaction to Sukuna's touch. But you don't have time to think about it because Sukuna's large hands are suddenly on your hips, lifting you off the ground as if you weigh nothing, just sending more flutters through your pussy and stomach.

He helps you climb over the fence and follows you a second later, climbing gracefully over it and landing safely on his feet on the other side as if it were nothing.

He jerks his chin in the direction of the main street.

"Let's get some coffee. I'm tired as fuck after the game."

You sit across from Sukuna, slowly stirring your coffee, snickering at the locker room gossip he shares with you. He shows you videos on his phone, barking with laughter when he presents to you The Bears reacting to their smashed ice sculpture.

You're the only guests in the small coffee shop on campus at this hour of the night. The lights are dimmed, and the barista has disappeared into the back of the shop. It's a peaceful, solemn atmosphere as if you and Sukuna have entered a parallel universe in which only the two of you exist.

And somehow, Sukuna seems different tonight, too. Softer. His playful smirk has softened into a genuine smile, and there's this unguarded, almost affectionate look in his eyes. Something you only caught glimpses of when he looks at his brother. But tonight, you get to see this look on Sukuna's face, too.

It makes you feel like you are invited to something special, where the Ice King lets his mask slip and allows a glance at the boy beneath the rough and arrogant attitude.

And suddenly, it hits you. Sukuna is your friend.

He allows you at his table in the dining hall and escapes from boring parties with you to sip coffee in the middle of the night. He lets you drive his car and allows you in his room and somehow decided he enjoys spending time with you, not just for sex, but for mundane things like having lunch together, or drinking coffee at midnight, or watching videos on his phone.

Sukuna let you in.

A smile spreads over your face, and you reach out to touch Sukuna's arm. Your touch is gentle, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his wrist. Sukuna cocks his head, looking curiously at you, but he doesn't comment on it and just shows you the next video of his game against The Bears.

The two of you leave the coffeeshop together a while later, and Sukuna elbows you gently,

"Wanna come over to my place? I haven't gotten my victory fuck yet."

And you laugh and hit his tattooed biceps playfully, even as you agree with a soft nod and a big grin before you loop your arm around Sukuna's and lean onto him while you walk back to his dorm.

You spend the next thirty minutes under Sukuna, getting railed into his bed, your fingernails leaving scratches on his muscular back, while he pounds into you with those delicious, hard, deep thrusts.

He rolls off you afterward but doesn't get up, and neither do you. You just stay there lying next to each other, your shoulders touching, watching more videos on Sukuna's phone.

Until your phone beeps and you see a message from Nobara,

"Where are you?"

"Don't worry, I am okay. I left the party. Sorry, forgot to text you."

"It's okay, but you didn't answer the question? Where are you? Omg, wait, are you with the curse?"

You laugh, and Sukuna raises an eyebrow. You show him the text, and he huffs, a large tattooed hand darting out to quickly grab the phone out of your hand. Before you can even react, Sukuna has already typed a reply:

"She's in his bed, actually."

You scream and try to pluck your phone from Sukuna's large hand, wrestling with him for it on his bed until you end up in his lap, straddling him, both of you laughing breathlessly.

Sukuna grins up at you and lets the phone drop onto his pillow and instead grabs your hips with both hands, flipping you over on your back, making you squeal and giggle while his lips trail kisses down your neck, and your hands tangle in his soft, pink hair. He pushes your legs apart, lowering his tall, buff body on yours, his half-hard cock rubbing against your tummy, and your body instantly reacts to him too. Your legs wrap around Sukuna's hips, pulling him closer, your hips lifting, welcoming his hardening cock between your wet pussy lips, telling him wordlessly to take you a second time.

Yes, Sukuna is your friend. Your friend, who also gives you damn good dick.

PLEASE, THEY ARE SO SWEET 😭😭

I wanted to show the friendship aspect of the whole fuckbuddies thing in this chapter, and I hope you liked it! I am a sucker for friends to lovers, and I am screaming into my hand when I imagine Sukuna letting Reader in and letting her see behind his mask!!

I want to say thank you to all of you who read this story and leave sweet feedback in the comments and tags or send me nice asks! I realized once again this week that writing a multi-chapter fic is super stressful BUT also so beautiful because I can experience this whole process with all of you 💗 It's such a nice feeling that we are experiencing this story and the developing romance together. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! This is really what fandom is about for me.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

If you commented on the masterpost, I will add you to the taglist, btw. I will reblog the story several times with the different taglists. Thank you so much for being invested in this fic 💗

In Chapter 7 Reader will get a private ice skating lesson with Hockey Player!Sukuna.

[pastryfication]

hey there!! could i just get a really fluffy fic where reader and ollie are cuddling at night?? "You need the fluffiness" or whatever Carlos said HAHA

i need a cuddle buddy so badly i don’t think you understand how touch starved i am ☹️

the soft mattress of your bed bounces slightly as your boyfriend carefully moves around. with your position laying half on his chest, you immediately feel the shift and groan in annoyance.

“mhmm, what are you doing?” your voice comes out croaky, filled by the deep sleep you just awoke from. your eyes blink sleepily against the dark room as you try to gain consciousness.

“nothing,” ollie whispers, gently pushing your head back to its position on his chest. “just wanted you closer. go back to sleep, love.”

your fuzzy brain doesn’t completely understand what he’s saying, so you just hum in response snuggling your face into his warm body. going back to sleep was something you definitely could manage.

ollie smiles at that, tightening his arm to keep you secure against his body.

this is his favourite position in the entire world. nothing feels better than to have you pressed up against him in such an intimate, tender way.

the smell of your shampoo fills his senses, your body lays as a comfortable weight on his beating chest, and the only sound heard is your soft breathing. everything is so perfect, so perfectly blissful and serene that he feels like he just might be in heaven.

but then again, not even heaven could be as perfect as this.

he knows that he has to get up soon so he can get ready for the day, but for now, he just wants to enjoy a rare moment in your presence before he has to face the real world.

because in this moment, none of that exists. here, in this quiet, cocooned in warmth and peace, the world doesn’t seem so demanding. he just wants to stay here, where time seems to slow down, where your steady breaths are the only thing grounding him.

as his hand gently runs up and down your back, ollie feels your body relax even more against him. he doesn’t move, doesn’t want to disturb you. he wonders how something as simple as this can feel so profound, how your presence alone makes everything feel right. he could lay here forever, he thinks—forever soaking in the peace of this fleeting, fragile morning.

the soft hum of the air conditioner in the background, the muted sounds of a world still asleep outside, and your body perfectly tucked into his make him wish this moment could stretch on forevermore, always unbroken.

"love you," he whispers into your hair. he knows you're too far gone in sleep to respond, but it doesn't matter. just saying the words feels like a promise, like a truth that fits perfectly into the quiet between you.

[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

[gffa]

I have been drifting back to STAR WARS fandom lately and I have been greatly rewarded for it, especially in the gen fic veins, because there have been some banger fics authors have been putting out! And the thing that really gets me in the fannish heart is that there's more and more fics about the Jedi, both for exploring the characters and the culture. I have been able to find multiple fics that have been kind to Mace Windu! I have been able to find multiple fics that explain what attachment actually is to the Jedi and to Star Wars! I have been able to find multiple fics that lift my spirit up or punch me in the feelings in exactly the right way, both for the usual disaster lineage faves, but also for the Jedi as a whole. I'm serious, that means the world to me in this fandom, and I desperately want to share that with you all. LET ME SHOVE FIC AT YOU THAT LOVES THESE CHARACTERS AND THIS WORLD AS MUCH AS I DO!!

FICS THAT PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE WITH HOW GOOD THEY WERE: ✦ wayfinding by night by wrennette, obi-wan & luke & cast, time travel, 10.2k     Before him stood a fellow Jedi, worn and weary with loss. Obi-Wan finds himself on Ahch-To and helps Luke find a path through his grief. ✦ may you inherit his light by notbecauseofvictories, leia & bail & anakin & cast, 2.5k     When your father dies, say the Coruscanti, you are left clutching a star map for a different galaxy. In this, as in many things, Leia is her fathers' daughter. ✦ No Freedom From the Storm (But Peace In Its Midst) by Be_Right_Back, mace & cast, ~1k     Mace is freefalling. On his way down, he meets Hatred, and reaches for Serenity. ✦ "...if you remain his student" by Peppermint_Shamrock, anakin & ahsoka & cast, 3.9k     Ahsoka doesn't leave the Jedi Order. This does not save Anakin. This was never going to save Anakin. Nor stop him. ✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal, time travel, 47.4k wip     Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be. (Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the clone troopers have no idea what to make of Kenobi's weird new padawan. At least the kid fits in, though.) ✦ No Death, Only the Force by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & depa & shmi, 2.8k     Anakin Skywalker is just about to to free his mother from the Tuskens when the Force rudely yanks him to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant – and into Mace Windu's body. Mace, on the other hand, gets tossed into Anakin's body on Tatooine. ✦ Well Met by avocadomoon, obi-wan/padme (unconsumated) & corde & anakin, 19k     "Here and then gone again," Padmé said. "It must be lonely." "Sometimes," Obi-Wan said. "But a Jedi is never truly alone."

THIS FANDOM HAS A HAMMER AND A WHOLE BUNCH OF NAILS AND A REALLY GOOD STAPLE GUN, WE'RE FIXING WHAT CANON BROKE AND NOBODY CAN STOP US NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Begin again by mauvera, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 78.9k     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. ✦ Repetition by Peppermint_Shamrock, cody & obi-wan, time loop, 3k     Cody wakes up from a nightmare on the way to Utapau, again and again.

CANON-COMPLIANT (MOSTLY, UP TO A CERTAIN POINT, WHATEVER) DISASTER LINEAGE: ✦ it's like i can feel time moving by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 5.4k     “Hi,” Anakin says. It's after midnight. “Is everything alright?” “Can’t a man stop by his old master’s room?” Obi-Wan stares at him blankly. “Are you out of food?” ✦ yes, I will take you / I will love you, again by foreverstudent, obi-wan & anakin & cast, time travel, 2.5k     "So you have tried, Padawan." Qui-Gon takes a moment, and his expression is steely but not unkind--the one Obi-Wan remembers from particularly grueling training sessions. "Would you try again, if you had the chance?" OWK!Obi-Wan gets another chance, with a child he once left behind. ✦ No Good Deed Goes Unpunished by kittona, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.1k     Anakin gets a bit overprotective when his loved ones are sick. Luckily, he has the best home remedy for a cold. ✦ nothing a cup of tea can't fix by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.5k     when Anakin shows up to Obi-Wan's quarters in the middle of the night, the Jedi Master knows something has gone awry. answering Anakin's desperate cry for help, Obi-Wan is reminded of how very, very prone to dramatics his former padawan and grand padawan are. or Ahsoka gets sick and Anakin flips his shit. ✦ Stick Figures by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 2k     war is hard. war is draining. to make it more bearable, little mementos* are routinely given. *mementos: encouraging notes, funny little drawings, little gifts, fun snacks, and poems which might get Anakin in trouble. ✦ When the Ground Breaks by stolen_pen_name23, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 4.7k     An earthquake causes devastation on the planet of Berchest. Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka work together to help save civilians until disaster pulls them apart. ✦ never fear, young one by marverse, obi-wan & ahsoka & cast, 6.2k     Ever since her first day of being a padawan, Ahsoka Tano remembers the words that Master Skywalker had once told her. And every time, she wonders, wonders, and wonders. ✦ the street's a little kinder when you're home by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin, 5.2k     "So catch me up," Anakin says. "What did I miss?” Nothing. Nothing happens when you’re gone. “Oh, the usual.” [or: anakin goes missing. obi-wan doesn't handle it well.] ✦ holding anchor by foreverstudent, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 3.2k     At the landing of Point Rain, an injured Obi-Wan allows himself to be sentimental over his former padawan, and Anakin patches up his old master. ✦ Nothing to Say by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & satine, 3.2k     (or: Anakin and Satine don’t know how to talk to each other. Until they remember the very important thing they have in common.) ✦ Aggressive Negotiations by SkyBlue1309, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 2.2k     People forget that Anakin was raised by the Negotiator. He was bound to pick up on a thing or two. ✦ At The Window by Peppermint_Shamrock, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k     In the early days of Anakin's apprenticeship, Obi-Wan searches for him in the Temple. ✦ The Words by Ibelin, obi-wan & anakin, 3.9k     Obi-Wan Kenobi has never said I love you in his life. He can say a lot of other things, though.

JEDI CULTURE AND WORLDBUILDING AND CELEBRATION: ✦ Refractions of Light by Independence1776, ezra & kanan, 1.3k     Kanan celebrates a Jedi holiday with Ezra. ✦ The grand outing by Ingata, dooku & sifo-dyas & obi-wan & bant & garen & reeft & yoda & cast, 4.5k     Eight younglings and two Jedi masters on a field trip. What could possibly go wrong? ✦ into the statue that breathes by spoonks, obi-wan & feemor & cast, 8.5k     The night watch in the garden was supposed to be the calmest of them all. No mischievous Padawans “sneaking” in or out, or ne’er-do-well civilians conducting “business” around the lower-level entrances that they didn’t know existed. No the gardens was still, and it was like time was frozen in ice that slowly melted away with the rising of the sun. A slow drip, drip— Drip. Immediately Feemor turned towards the central waterfall. Someone was standing there. Whoever they were, they were small and moved through katas with their hands open like a greeting. ✦ The Temple vs. Order 66 by LauraBWrites, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cody & jedi & jedi temple, 3.9k     The Temple cannot defy the Will of the Force. But it can, it will prepare for the possible outcomes. It can damn well fight back. ✦ We Three Runaways. by Aethir, obi-wan & depa & komari, 2.7k     In which Depa and Obi-Wan bond, and a new sister is found. ✦ A Short Break by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & yoda, ~1k     Luke complains about his training, and asks about Jedi training of old. ✦ we are made of our longest days by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.4k     Two years after the events of The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan and his new apprentice are called to a remote moon to fetch a baby who’s showing signs of a rare, unique power. On their journey home, Obi-Wan reflects on the last child he brought to the Temple and catches a faint glimpse of three possibly entwining futures.

I AM A PREQUELS ERA BITCH AND I'M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE'S PROBLEM: ✦ the salle at dawn by maragny, anakin & mace, 1.5k wip     Master Windu is the best duellist in the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker is seventeen, he duels Mace for the first time, and it ruins both of them for anyone else. ✦ Saving People Counts as Revenge, Right? by ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & dooku, time travel, 4.3k wip     Count Dooku of Serenno is an intelligent man. His methods may be a bit severe, and he may not be allowed true freedom to plan campaigns in the war he helped create, but he has always had an eye for strategy. Moving the pieces around the board and plotting out where they will need to be next. So, when he opens his eyes after Anakin Skywalker cut his head off, he knows to take a moment to assess what’s going on. ✦ if I could find solid ground again by maragny, anakin & depa, 1.5k     “You never told me what we’re doing today,” Anakin says, a little hesitant. “I…I don’t know much about Jedi things yet.” "Good thing we’re not doing Jedi things, then,” Depa replies. “We’re cooking!” Or, Anakin and Depa, finding their places in their family. ✦ Birds Fly in Different Directions by Triscribe, jedi & clones, time travel, 14.6k     In the corridor beyond her quarters, other Jedi were emerging from their own doors, most of them wide-eyed with shock. A few merely looked blearily concerned, and Aayla heard snatches of questions as she darted past, queries as to whether everyone experienced the same distressing vision. But those who clutched at their chests or throats, their weak points- those Jedi bore a muted horror in their eyes, and Aayla didn’t doubt they’d just suffered their own betrayals from trusted men.

✦ The Master, The Padawan, and The Force by Pandora151, padme & ahsoka, 1.9k     Padmé Naberrie was never one to procrastinate. More than that, she maintained a steady, consistent schedule — something that she’d managed to keep ever since she was a Padawan. She was always on top of everything, from her responsibilities with the war to training her own Padawan, Ahsoka. She was well-known throughout the Order for being steady, reliable. And most notably, no matter what, she didn’t just forget things. Which made her current situation all the more…ridiculous. ✦ Off-by-one Error by Jessepinwheel, obi-wan & cast, 12.2k     A stranger appears in the Jedi Temple. Nobody knows who he is or where he came from. Nobody knows what has happened to him except that it must have been something truly terrible. The stranger's name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. ✦ splinters of light by wrennette, dooku & jocasta & sifo-dyas & yoda & jaster & jango & cast, time travel, 22.5k     When Dooku's dying consciousness was sent back into his younger body, at first he remembered only that something important would happen on Korda VI, and soon. His investigations brought both clarity and confusion, and a conviction that he must atone for evils not yet enacted. ✦ The Road that Reaches by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & yoda & depa & shmi, 11.5k     As the Council sits down on Naboo to consider the newly-knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi's request to take young Anakin Skywalker as his padawan, they're informed of what transpired on Tatooine – and that Anakin used to be a slave. Mace Windu goes to interview the young child to confirm this, and gets rather more than he signed up for. ✦ the salle at dawn by maragny, anakin &/ mace, 5.1k     Master Windu is the best duellist in the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker is seventeen, he duels Mace for the first time, and it ruins both of them for anyone else. ✦ through the dark (like two flames) by treescape, kanan/cal & quinlan, 5.3k     A Jedi found him on Bracca. Or, in the weeks after Order 66, Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume are reunited on Jabiim. Five years late, on the run from Inquisitors, they have a decision to make. ✦ Resilience by TemporaryUniverse, obi-wan & mace, 3.3k     Twelve years after his defeat at the Battle of Naboo, Obi-Wan's greatest enemy has returned from the dead. Obi-Wan has faced Maul and lost. Now it is time to face himself. ✦ The Buried Truth is Your Favorite Lie by Peppermint_Shamrock, dooku & yoda, ~1k     Dooku tries and fails to leave the past behind. ✦ Hanging On by the Last Threads of Our Hope by IllyanaA, ahsoka & rex, 5.2k     Ahsoka and Rex have endured too much. After the Fall, they stay together until they can't, but the Force has a way of bringing them back together. It's a fact for which both of them are immeasurably grateful.

MULTIGENERATIONAL STAR WARS IS THE BEST STAR WARS: ✦ Future Tense by CeruleanTactician, obi-wan & anakin & luke, time travel, 1.4k     Obi-Wan and Anakin find themselves twenty years in the future, where they meet a young man by the name of Luke Skywalker. ✦ Keepsakes by Coalmine301, obi-wan & leia, 2k     “You were the one who gave me my bantha, weren’t you?” “Yes,” Obi-wan nodded with a small smile. “Your father told me they were your favorite animal. At least then it was.” ✦ Why the Sith Don't Have Class Reunions by Peppermint_Shamrock, anakin & palpatine & maul & dooku & ventress, time travel, 1.9k     Sith apprentices rarely agree with one another (there’s a reason for the Rule of Two, after all), but Darth Sidious is starting to think that it’s worse when they do. ✦ My Dear Padawan by Tulak_Hord, luke & yoda & palpatine, time travel, 3.2k     In which a time-travelling Luke Skywalker successfully saves the Galaxy in perhaps the most horrifying manner imaginable. ✦ The Return by Pandora151, obi-wan & leia & haja, 1.4k     Haja wonders about the others. He wonders about the people he’s sent to the Path from Daiyu — not just Kenobi and the Princess, but that Force-sensitive boy and his mother, the Nautolan teenager from a few weeks ago, the young Kel Dor child and his even younger siblings. Did they all make it home? Are they safe? Was all of this worth it? ✦ Message From Guiding Light by Batsutousai, obi-wan & leia & mace, time travel, 2.2k     Ben and Leia never make it to Mapuzo on the borrowed supply shuttle, instead finding themselves in the middle of the Clone Wars.

FRIENDSHIP WITH CANON ENDED, THIS COOL AU IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND NOW: ✦ Not A Moment Too Soon by Triscribe, depa & kanan & cast, 2k     The first time she stumbled, her padawan said nothing, simply offering his shoulder for her to lean on. ✦ Parallel Lines by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin, time travel, time loop, 10.7k     Darth Vader leans back in his chair, allowing a small smile to form on his lips, hidden by his helmet. “There is no escape from this, Obi-Wan,” he utters. He looks down at the neat line of text, and the Force echoes his words. “No escape from the past.” ✦ through the dark (like two flames) by treescape, ca/kanan & quinlan, 5.3k     A Jedi found him on Bracca. Or, in the weeks after Order 66, Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume are reunited on Jabiim. Five years late, on the run from Inquisitors, they have a decision to make. ✦ Loth-Cats and Loth-Rats by TessaDoesThings, mace & depa & kanan & ezra, 19k     All Mace Windu wanted out of the Post-Clone Wars world was a simple trip with his lineage to the long-forgotten Jedi Temples of the Outer Rim. However, on Lothal, the three might have bitten off more than they expected. The Republic may have triumphed, but the roots of what could have become the empire are gripped in the corners of the galaxy, and it might be time for some aggressive space weeding. Or a coup d'etat. That would work too. ✦ a princess, a farmer, a teacher by jesuisdeux, obi-wan & luke & leia & bail, 1.4k     Early in the morning, a girl and few men knock on a door. They don't wear anything resembling a soldier, but Obi-Wan has been a soldier long enough to notice the tense shoulders and wary looks beneath civilian clothing. She doesn't wear anything resembling a princess, but Obi-Wan knows these fierce eyes and grace coming from a righteous cause. or A New Hope AU where Vader doesn't attack Leia's ship and Leia herself delivers the news to Obi-Wan and consequently Obi-Wan doesn't die. ✦ What I Wouldn't Give To See Your Ghost by Triscribe , depa & kanan & cast, time travel, 1.2k     “Who are you?” Depa demanded, externally calm but internally frantic. “What is this place? And where is my padawan?” ✦ when that day comes by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & maul, modern au/reincarnation au, 44.8k     [or: the alternate universe where anakin skywalker has the chance at some new life…but only if he saves the life of a reincarnated obi-wan kenobi. the catch: neither of them know who the other was in the galaxy far, far away…but that might very well change.]

[heich0e]

rintarou's sheets are scratchy.

they're new, and haven't yet gone through the wash enough times to properly soften. they haven't been slept on enough times to be fully broken in. you know he bought them because you always used to tease him about his old sheets: faded with some holes in them—a mismatched fitted sheet and top sheet in two different shades of blue, unbefitting of a grown man making grown man money.

so, he got new ones.

these new sheets are green, in the exact shade you like so much—the one you always point out when the two of you are walking in the park near your office on your lunch break. he sent you a picture of the package when he got them home, fishing for praise you refused to give him for doing the bare minimum. they're nice sheets, though. expensive, organic cotton with a high thread count.

but right now, they're scratchy.

and they're irritating you as you lay tangled up in them, the top sheet wrapped around your waist like a belt and twisted around one of your bare legs. you must have been tossing and turning a lot in your sleep, because when you properly rouse from your slumber to take inventory of your surroundings, the first thing you notice is that you're practically knotted into the stiff, new cotton.

you extract yourself from the blankets, stumbling a little towards the door in a fog, and make your way from rintarou's bedroom in the direction of the kitchen.

"oh," rintarou perks up once you appear around the corner, his eyes bright when they spot you. "you're up."

you shuffle around the kitchen counter towards him, your head heavy and pounding, your mouth dry. you feel nauseated, and without thinking, you slump against him with your forehead pressing into the valley between his shoulder blades. you're confused. you're hungover. but he's warm, and smells like laundry detergent. suddenly you feel a little less queasy.

"what's going on?" you grumble into his back. you peel yourself away from him, blinking slowly, and sweep your gaze around the room to get a better sense of things.

suna holds up a frying pan and a whisk. "i'm cooking!"

you blink again. "okay?"

it's not what you meant when you asked him your first question, but rintarou simply smiles. he has an almost puppy-like personality when he gets like this—you can almost picture ears atop his head and a tail wagging happily as he stares down at you.

"how'd i get here last night?"

rintarou freezes, but only for a moment. he quickly turns his back to you again to continue on whatever misguided culinary adventure he'd been attempting before you woke up. "you were pretty drunk."

"my seniors kept egging me on," you complain, rubbing your forehead as the hazy memory surfaces from the night before. it was a company dinner you couldn't get out of, and it had quickly spiralled out of hand. "i don't even remember leaving."

rintarou laughs a little. but he still won't look at you.

"suna."

he doesn't turn, whisking something you can't identify but that you're almost certain should not be whisked in a bowl in front of him on the counter.

"suna." you repeat yourself again.

suddenly, a wave of nausea overtakes you.

no.

no.

you pat yourself down in search of your phone, but the attempt is useless. you're dressed in one of rintarou's t-shirts and boxers, neither of which come equipped with any pockets, and your phone is nowhere to be found. you whip your head around in search of it, but don't spot it anywhere in the immediate vicinity.

"hey—" rintarou finally looks at you when he senses your alarm, and his tone mirrors your own panic. "don't—!"

you swipe his cellphone off the counter in front of him, using the passcode you'd managed to weasel out of him a few months ago to unlock the device and navigate to his call log. you take off running as you tap your way through the various screens on his phone, but he's quickly in pursuit of you—leaving whatever he'd had on the stove to burn like he world's saddest funeral pyre.

"stop, stop!" rintarou is faster than you are, and has longer legs, but even by the time he catches you, you've already found what you're looking for in his call history. he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you down onto his sofa with him in the living room, and the two of you land in a tangle of limbs against the cushions, your breathing laboured.

"i didn't make this call, did i?" you ask meekly, pointing at a brief call in the late hours of the night prior that sits at the top of his call history. it's from your number, but you're confident you hadn't been the one to dial.

rintarou pouts a little bit, avoiding your eyes. after a moment he shakes his head. you groan, rolling over on the sofa underneath him and hiding your face in your hands.

"i wasn't even there long, i promise," rintarou says, his voice impossibly close because of the way the two of you are sprawled across the sofa. his breath is warm against the column of your throat when he speaks.

you refuse to look at him.

"i didn't even say anything embarassing."

you still don't budge.

"i made sure to thank your coworkers for calling me to come get you and everything."

your hangover has been overtaken by your own mortification, a horrible heat creeping up your face to accompany the taste of bile in your throat. you've been so, so careful not to let your relationship and your career overlap thus far. so cautious about introducing rintarou into parts of your life that would make it even harder to face if or when the time came that he wasn't around anymore.

"are you embarrassed of me?"

his question makes your chest ache. the way he says it twists the knife.

you lift your face from your hands and peek at him over your shoulder. he's so close that your noses almost brush.

"no." you mean it.

the anxiety in rintarou's gaze eases. he presses closer.

"you sure?"

you narrow your eyes at him. "depends. were you wearing that awful yellow track suit?"

rintarou laughs, all breath, and then dips down to kiss you softly. you want to complain that you haven't even brushed your teeth yet, or that you kind of feel like you might be sick, or that whatever he was trying to cook is on the brink of burning down the building. but you don't. you just let him rest on top of you. you let yourself enjoy it.

when he finally pulls away, rintarou has a somewhat sly smile on his face.

"what, rin?" you ask him gently.

"just wondering if now that i've met your coworkers you're going to let me come visit you at lunch, or if you're still gonna make me hide in the park."

"i like the park," you pout.

because the park is green, the colour you like so much. like rintarou's scratchy bedsheets. and his eyes.

"okay, okay," he laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. "i like the park, too."

[eelnoise]

one night/all night

law x fem!reader (nsfw!)

week 2 of small kinktober!

>an accidental stumble over some mysterious spores leaves both you and your captain at wits end.

cw: sex pollen, multiple orgasms, dom!law, oral sex (both), begging, semi-public sex an: god damn this one kicked my ass. but i'm finally happy with it. enjoy! wc: 4.7k

Trafalgar Law is no stranger to the oddities of this world. He's chased curiosity across enough oceans to work the fruits of his labor into a lifelong goal. 

In his pursuit for knowledge, Law bands a crew of his careful choosing together to aid with the task. Made up of dearest friends and closest confidants, the Heart Pirates are deeply loyal to their captain—even if he feels unworthy of it. 

This includes you. Brought aboard for your experience with botany and overall usefulness, you had fit in quickly—going so far as garnering Law's trust with enough relative ease that even he's grown deeply attached to you. 

He brings you in tow for most of his errands on land, not all of which you're privy to, but never once do you pry or question and Law's come to need that comfort more than he'd care to say. 

With his business concluded with his acquaintance, Law exits the small coastal cottage and finds you in the nearby clearing, sitting on your haunches and hovering over what looks like a pair of bright green mushrooms with your sketchbook in your hands.

He isn’t intentionally trying to be quiet as he strides up behind you. However, when he calls out your name, you yelp in sudden surprise, toppling forward and into whatever you had been focused on. The sole of your boot catches on one of the fungi, uprooting it, while the other disintegrates beneath your knee. The remnants hiss ominously, releasing plumes of spores from their caps that are immediately swept away by the breeze, swirling directly into both of your faces.

You try your best to roll out of the way as Law attempts to ease the situation with use of his devil fruit, but he’s too late to get the bulk of the remaining spores. 

Law’s eyes water as the spores hit his face, and he can’t help but cough and sputter. He wipes his eyes and looks at you with a mixture of annoyance and concern. “Would you please stop touching strange plants?” he asks, though his tone is far from polite.

"No. That was all you." you reply with a frown, trying to play cool despite the frustrated look on your face. The spores had caught you off guard too, filling your lungs with a strange tingling sensation that seems to be lingering. “You’re the one sneaking around like a fucking cat.”

Law's eyes narrow at your accusation, but the effect is somewhat dampened by the spores still floating in the air. He can feel them affecting his senses, making everything seem more vivid and intense. He takes a step closer to you, his gaze locked onto yours.

"I was not sneaking," he says, low and controlled. "I simply didn't want to disturb you while you were so focused on your work. But now that I see the mess you've made, I can't help but wonder if you're even capable of handling a simple task without causing chaos."

You roll your eyes at him and rise to your feet, brushing the dirt off your sketchpad and tucking it into your pack before doing the same with your boiler suit. "I was trying to document enough of it for research back on the sub, which is, you know, my job."

Law shakes his head and pinches his nose with a sigh. "Doesn't matter. Now let’s go; we don’t have much daylight left." He turns on his heel and starts walking, clearly expecting you to follow.

As you fall into step beside him, Law can't help but notice the way his attention seems to be constantly drawn to you. Your movements are slightly more exaggerated, your breathing a bit heavier than usual. He tries to focus on the path ahead, but finds his gaze constantly drawn to your form.

"What exactly were you hoping to learn from those mushrooms?" he asks, more to distract himself than out of genuine curiosity. "I thought your expertise was more in... practical plants."

He can feel the heat of your body next to his, the scent of your skin mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest. It's intoxicating and though he knows he should just take the lead—to put you out of sight even if temporarily—but he can't bring himself to stray too far from you.

Part of you wants to argue—to explain just how and why he’s wrong, and how his position as your captain doesn’t excuse the sheer audacity of his words. Yet you sigh in defeat; it simply isn’t worth it.

"To be fair, they may very well have been 'practical,'" you begin, wiping the uncomfortable sweat from your brow. "The plan was to sketch it, take some notes, and look into my books back on in my room for more information."

"Plus, I was bored. You were taking a while, you know?" You look up at him, and the way he’s already looking back down at you makes the heat rise in your neck.

Law's eyes flicker to your face, taking in the flushed cheeks and the quick breaths. "Boredom is no excuse for recklessness," he mutters, his tone a little rougher than intended.

The dusty road widens into the overgrown remnants of what was once this island's capital. Charred ruins of stone and wood mark the past, leaving behind winding streets of crumbling buildings covered in ash and soot, the smell of smoke lingering in the dry air.

Acres of scarred, lifeless land remain forever trapped in its moment of doom. It’s a bleak sight—and that’s putting it lightly.

Law leads the way down the debris-strewn street. He keeps his senses on high alert, scanning the dilapidated buildings for any signs of movement or danger, but the heat is oppressive, and it only adds to the growing tension coiling in his gut.

Silence falls between you, and Law’s mind begins to wander. His fist clenches tightly around the brim of his hat, both troubled and irritated. Those spores have surely fucked with him, and now he’s faced with the circumstance of it being you that fate has left him in this condition with.

He just had to keep you instead of allowing you to pair off with Ikkaku. Didn’t he? He could have He could have—should have—gone it alone, but this time, his damn pride may finally be his fall.

Though he can’t deny the effect it’s having on him—the way his heart races and how his body responds to your closeness. He’s always been attracted to you, convinced he didn’t have the time or reason to piece it all together, but this feels... different.

Law doesn't know if he's angry at himself or if he's frustrated with you—accident or not, those spores are doing something to him. There's no other way to explain the artificial intensity pumping through his veins.

The grip on his sword tightens, the hilt digging into his palm as he struggles to focus on the weight of his duty instead of the intoxicating allure of the way you look, the scent that envelops him, and the mesmerizing way your body moves beside him, each glance a reminder of the reckless desire brewing within.

Meanwhile your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, most of them incoherent and centered around the growing desire that seems to be tangling in your belly.

Sweat trickles down your neck, and your skin feels like it’s tingling. What the fuck is this heat? 

Your first instinct is to blame the spores, for while yearning for your captain is nothing new, this longing feels heightened, almost overwhelming, as if the very air around you has stoked a smoldering desire deep inside.

You’ve encountered your share of strange plant life, but a mycelium with enough substance to trigger this much of a response from a fully grown person? Nearly impossible.

But what the hell do you know?

Trying to push away your thoughts, you force your steps to match the rhythm of Law’s. You can feel his gaze, acutely aware of how he leans in occasionally to avoid brushing against you. The tension between you is palpable, and it's making you feel a little disoriented.

You’re unsure how much longer you can maintain the charade of feigned composure. Every step feels heavy, and every breath is shallow and labored. The heat of the sun is nothing compared to the fire building inside you, threatening to consume you whole.

You lose count of Law’s footsteps as you try to cool off by fanning yourself, pulling your hair up, and drinking your fair share of water from the bottle you carry in your pack—but nothing seems to help. Something’s gotta give, or you’re going to melt.

Without a shred of a second thought, you unzip the heavy suit and slide your arms out of the sleeves, tying them around your waist. You sigh in relief as the breeze flows over your arms and through the thin fabric of your tank top, but it does little to truly soothe the lingering heat between your thighs.

Law's breath catches in his throat as he hears the sound of your zipper. He tries to keep his eyes forward, but his gaze is drawn to your form like a magnet. The sight of your exposed skin, glistening with sweat in the fading sunlight, sends a bolt of pure lust straight to his core.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. The heat that had been building inside him reaches a new level, and he can feel his cock straining against the confines of his pants.

Trafalgar Law's eyes rake over you, taking in the sight of your flushed skin and the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy breaths. The emphasis of his tone iis rough as he asks, "How do you feel?"

It's a loaded question, one that he hopes will reveal just how much those spores have affected you. He's afraid to know the answer, but he can't help but want to hear it.

Your voice wavers slightly as you try to maintain a facade of calm. "I... I'm not sure," you admit, your eyes unable to break away from his intense gaze. "Hot. Really hot."

You take a step closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The air between you feels charged, electric. "Are you okay?" you ask him in a soft whisper.

Law's eyes widen at your question, surprised by your boldness. He hadn't expected you to be so direct, so forthcoming about what you were feeling. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you until your bodies are almost touching.

Law's fist clenches at his side, knuckles turning white. He's not okay. He's so far from okay it's laughable. But he can't tell you that. He can't tell you about how he's been left him in a state of constant arousal, that every nerve ending in his body is screaming for attention, for relief. 

For you.

"I’m fine," he replies through gritted teeth, the lie lingering in the air between you. He can smell you now; the scent of your sweat is intoxicating, pulling him further into disorientation.

"You don't look fine. Maybe I can–" You trail off, your eyes growing into a half-lidded daze as you trail down his body, taking a long look at the way his muscles ripple in his arms before snapping back up to his face with an awkward cough that doesn't really hide anything.

Your eyes meet Law's, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. You see the desire burning in his eyes, mirroring the heat coursing through your veins.

You take another step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches out, fingers trembling slightly as they brush against his chest. "Maybe I can help," you whisper, barely audible over the sound of his racing pulse.

He feels his resolve crumbling with your touch, your sultry tone and hungry gaze sending shivers down his spine. He wants to push you away, to maintain his composure, but his body betrays him.

"You don't understand," he grunts, tilting his face away from you. But even as he speaks, his hands are moving of their own accord, reaching out to grab your hips and pull you closer. "I can't... I shouldn't..."

This isn’t how he wanted this to go.

"Law," your voice calling his name eases the rumble in his head, instantly clearing the chaos of his relentless thoughts. "I want to help you. Anything..."

Law's pupils dilate at your words as something snaps within him, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His hands pillow the impact as you're shoved against the cast-off remains of a building built from stone. He nips at your bottom lip, urging you to open for him, and when you do, he plunges his tongue into your mouth, claiming you with a passion that steals the breath from your lungs.

Law's grip on your hips tightens, pulling you closer until you can feel the hard length of his cock pressed against your belly. The heat between you is palpable, as is the need that rolls off him in waves.

"Tell me you want this," he growls into you, lips barely breaking contact with yours. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

Your breathing hitches as his demand echoes in your ears. You bite your lip, weighing the consequences of giving in. But then, you look deep into his eyes, seeing the hunger reflected in your own.

"Yes," you whisper,  trembling with desire. "I want this. I need you, Captain."

Law's eyes flash with triumph, and he wastes no time in responding to your plea. His hands move to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he wraps your legs around his waist. He pins you against the stone wall, his hips grinding against yours in a rhythm that's both torturous and exhilarating.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves as if he's memorizing every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. "Taste so good," he murmurs, the husky rasp of his voice tickling your flesh.

Law's hands make short work of your clothing, peeling at the fabric of your shirt and tugging it your shoulders leaving you bare chested before him. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his attention roving over your body with a hunger that makes your skin prickle with anticipation.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his calloused fingers tracing the curve of your breast, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hip. "Perfect."

He lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily. His teeth graze the sensitive surface, sending jolts of lightning through your veins.

You gasp at the sensation, arching into his touch. Your  hands find their way into his hair, knocking his hat off in the process of tangling your fingers in the dark, raven strands as you write and shiver under his touch.

"Law," you moan, your words breathy and filled with yearning. "Please..."

You're not sure what you're begging for, but you know you need more. You need him. All of him.

He obliges you with a final, harsher nibble to your hardened bud before pulling away to trail his lips down your torso. Long fingers slide from your hips to unzip and shuffle the remainder of the suit down over your legs to fall in a heap around your ankles.

Law’s breath hovers over your panties, inches away from where you’re dying for contact.

“Move these.” He commands. "Show me."

Your body thrums with want, his imposing tone weakening you into desire borne of flame. Your  hands tremble as you hook your fingers into the front waistband of your panties and slowly slides to the side. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver. 

Law’s eyes lock onto your exposed sex, his gaze burning into you. He doesn’t hesitate, diving in to taste you, his tongue flicking out to tease at your clit. You whimper at the sensation, your body arching up off the wall in response.

He buries his face between your thighs, licking and sucking, his fingers gripping your hips to hold you steady while his tongue works its magic. You can feel the intensity building within you, every single one of your senses feels like they're working overdrive.

Law's tongue swirls around your clit, alternating between flicking and sucking, as his fingers delve into your wet heat. He groans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

His fingers twist inside you, stroking along your inner walls and hitting that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

Law's skilled tongue and fingers work in perfect harmony, driving you further and further towards the edge. You can feel the pressure building, the need to release coiling tighter and tighter within you.

"Captain," you moan, your wails a broken plea. "Please... please, I need..."

Law doesn't let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh as you ride out your orgasm. He relishes in the taste of you, in the way your body shudders against him, and the sounds of your pleasure. You cry out, the orgasm ripping through you, your body shuddering and trembling as waves of pleasure crash through you.

As your trembling subsides, he stands, his eyes dark with lust and his lips glistening with your juices. "On your knees," he utters, his tone low and gravelly, resonating with an intensity that captivates.

You comply, quickly discarding your shoes and the remainder of your clothing onto the dusty ground below and sink to your knees. You sit patiently as you look up at him through your lashes and watch as he wastes no time in freeing himself from the confines of his jeans, his cock springing forth, hard and ready.

"Suck."

He doesn't give you any more instructions, simply guides your head forward, positioning his cock at your lips. You open your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, and begin to suck.

Musky and slightly salty—you relish in his taste, and as he begins to guide your motions your mouth is filled full again and again, the tip of his length rutting so far down your throat that your eyes begin to water. 

But you love it. Fuck, you love it.

Law groans, his head falling back as he savors the feeling of your mouth around him. He tangles his fingers in your hair, using it as leverage to control the pace, pushing deeper with each thrust.

"Fuck, just like that," he growls, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock into your throat.

You can feel him growing harder, his cock throbbing against your tongue as he nears his release. His grip on your hair tightens, and he holds you in place as he begins to fuck your face in earnest, chasing his pleasure.

You gag with each powerful thrust as spit and drool drench along his cock.

Law's eyes roll back in his head, a low moan escaping his lips as he feels your throat constrict around him. He can feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with each thrust.

Law's grip on your hair tightens as he nears the edge, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he hisses, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Law's orgasm rips through him, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your mouth. You choke and gag around his cock, some of his cum escaping from your nose as he holds you in place.

He grunts, his grip on your hair loosening as the last of his seed spills into you. "Fuck, that's it," he pants, his cock still twitching as he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you to cough and gasp for air.

Law takes a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he looks down at you. "Stand up," he commands.

As you rise to your feet, he takes a step back, his eyes roaming over your naked form. "Turn around," he orders, "ass out." Law's hands grip your hips as he positions you, his fingers digging into your skin. "Spread your legs," he orders.

You comply, bracing yourself against the wall as you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He teases you, rubbing the tip up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices.

"Beg for it," he demands, his breath hot against your ear. "Beg me to fuck you."

"Please, Captain," you whimper, your body aching for him. "Please, please fuck me. I need your cock or I'm gonna go fucking crazy. "

Law's control snaps at your desperate plea. With a primal grunt, he thrusts into you, filling you in one swift motion. The feeling of his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming, and you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with a force that rocks your body against the wall. Your hands scrabble for purchase, nails digging into the stone as he fucks you with wild abandon.

Law's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rails into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the ruins, punctuated by your moans and his grunts of exertion.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. "Take it, take my cock."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation sends you hurtling towards another climax, your body tensing as the pressure builds within you.

With a loud cry unto the heavens, you gush around his cock, clenching as if milking him for everything he's got to give.

And fuck he wants to give you his all. Wants to empty himself into you over and over again until the only word you know is his name.

Law's hips buck, driving into you as you orgasm, his fingers digging into your flesh as he rides out your climax. The sound of your name on your lips is enough to send him over the edge, his body tensing as he releases inside you, his seed filling you up.

He holds you there, still buried deep within you, his breathing heavy as he regains control. "Mine," he breathes, his tone thick with possession.

But he doesn't stop, he can't stop indulging in you. For so long has he wanted this— wanted you— and some of him thanks fate for this, admittedly large and unexpected push into coming around to his feelings. 

His pace only slows as he tilts your head backward to catch your lips in a kiss.

Law's lips move against yours, the kiss deep and possessive. He swallows your moans, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves, mapping out every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Again," he orders, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. "Come for me again."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is too much, the edges of your vision begin to blur as you can feel another wave of delirium crash over you.

Law pulls orgasm after orgasm from your well loved, exhausted form. He thinks himself insatiable— that he will never have his fill of you. Over and over does the rhythm of his motions continue, his balls slapping against your clit in a tangle that rivals two animals in heat.

The relentless pursuit of your pleasure is unyielding. You cry out his name with each orgasm, your body quivering and shaking as he brings you to the edge time and time again.

His own lust grows with each climax you offer, the spores heightening the intensity of the experience. He's a beast, unyielding and unrelenting, his focus solely on claiming your body as his own.

Finally, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the ruins in a warm glow, Law's orgasms become fewer and farther between. Eventually, he collapses against your back in an exhausted huff.

Law's body slumps against yours, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He nuzzles into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he places soft kisses along your neck and shoulder.

"Fuck, that was incredible," he murmurs, voice hoarse from exertion. "Felt amazing."

He pulls out of you slowly, his cock slipping from your well-used body. You both wince at the sudden emptiness, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction.

Law turns you around, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. "You're amazing," he says, and you can tell he’s sincere.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It's a stark contrast to the frenzied passion you've experienced throughout the day, but no less intense.

When he pulls away, you're both breathless. "Let's get cleaned up and head back to the sub," he suggests, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. 

Law carefully assists you with your scattered clothing, his hands move with a gentle touch, helping you dress. His fingers linger on your skin, stealing soft caresses as he does.

Once you're both clothed and covered, he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. "Ready?" he asks, his eyes sparkling with a softness you don't recognize.

You give him a nod and he pulls you close, slipping his hand into yours as the two of you begin to walk together out of the rubble and back into the direction of civilization. 

"What about those ruins? Weren't we looking for something?" You ask curiously, craning your neck to peer up at him with a raised brow.

"We'll come back for the ruins," Law says, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "For now, I think the both of us need some rest." 

"But aren't you worried about questions from the others? We aren't exactly showing up looking innocent, you know."

He grins down at you, a warm sparkle in his eye. "Don't worry, I can teleport us straight into my cabin from outside the sub. That way, you won't have to face the crew in such disarray."

You know he's honest, and so you let yourself relax and lean into his shoulder. The closeness is nice, and with the heightened exhilaration finally ebbing away it feels nice. 

It feels real.

When Law decides you’re close enough to the coast, the world around you shifts in an instant, and suddenly you’re enveloped in the cozy warmth of his cabin aboard the Polar Tang.

You accept his invitation to use his shower, and your heart leaps in your chest when he slips in behind you to wrap his long arms around your waist. The hot water cascades over your bodies, washing away the sweat and dirt from your day of exploration.

Law takes his time, his hands roaming your body as he cleans you. It's a tender gesture, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion from earlier.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face. "I know today was... intense."

You nod, leaning into his touch. "I'm more than okay," you murmur, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'm happy."

Law smiles, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as he gazes into your eyes. "Me too," he whispers, before leaning in to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

He takes his time, savoring the feel of your mouth against his, the water cascading over your entwined bodies. When he finally pulls away, you're both breathless, your hearts racing in sync.

That night, you curl up in his bed, snuggled against his chest. A calmness fills the room, wrapping you in a soothing aura. Your captain is sound asleep, no doubt exhausted from the day’s events, and while uncertainty lingers about what comes next now that the spores are out of your system, that’s a worry for another day; for now, you find solace in his embrace.