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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 1 year

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Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 5

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC Smut Warning

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Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: “You couldn’t stop thinking about apologizing or kissing me?"

On Wednesday, I awoke when my alarm went off. Did I sleep through his alarms today? I must have been out of it. I was hot and sweaty. I felt like I had been dreaming but couldn’t recall what it was about. I groggily headed toward the shower. I stood under the hot shower stream longer than I probably should have before I started to wash my hair. I was moving slowly through my entire routine. I felt like I had a mild hangover and was not looking forward to the workday.

As I was digging through my clothes, I realized all the undergarments that I had left were a little too sexy in nature and not the most comfortable. I silently cursed myself for letting Lauren help me pack, even though me doing it alone most likely would have resulted in a panic attack. I sighed to myself, settling on a lacy white set that was the least offensive, then I got dressed. Today it was black fitted high waisted palazzo pants that zipped up the back, a matching blazer, and light pink sleeveless blouse with a lace trimmed white Cami underneath. I pulled my straightened hair back into my usual low bun. I actually felt cute today. The pants hugged me in all the right places and gave me a little confidence boost that helped improve my mood. I was barely ready on time and had to hurry downstairs to meet Joe. As usual, he met me with coffee and scone in hand. I was thankful for it this morning.

I was surprised to not find Megan waiting for me when I arrived. I momentarily wondered if I would have any issues entering the building, but once I reached the security checkpoint, they told me to go through without checking my bag or requiring that I go through the metal detector. All I could do was shake my head as I walked toward the elevator.

When the elevator doors opened to the correct floor, Megan was standing there, looking very impatient. I smiled at her as I exited the elevator and asked if everything was ok.

“Yes, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you this morning. I was just on my way down. I was having some trouble getting the printer moved to the secondary conference room for you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I don’t expect you to meet me every morning. I think I can find my way now.” I gave her a reassuring smile, hoping it might help her relax some.

“So today should be fun. I am going to start running data checks. There is a possibility I may need a second set of eyes or hands.”

“Sounds good. I’m really excited about this part. I am curious to see how all this works. I think it’s fascinating.”

“Well, I think you may be the first to ever say that. Most people want no part of it.”

Megan led me to the secondary conference room that required ID scan entry. It was a large space that housed an executive style table that took up most of the room, but it was all slightly smaller than the first one we met in. I started getting set up and laid some of my paperwork out across the table. There was a method to my madness that did unfortunately involve killing some trees. I am a very visual person, so a lot of the time it helps me to lay things out instead of switching between multiple windows on a small laptop screen.

My first step was to start running some of the unaltered data download spreadsheets through a program that compared data from multiple servers and also checked for data irregularities and notable patterns. It could be a slow and tedious process depending on the size of the data load and looking at the past six years’ worth of information was a lot.

About two and a half hours in, while processing the financial data, something caught my attention. During each payment period, there was always one account outlier in the losses column. The same account never had consecutive losses within that range. I suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline, convinced this could be something.

I pulled up the profit and loss statement report pdfs that I had reviewed earlier in the week. It hadn’t been completely obvious to me at that point because of the way they were presented. I hit print. Once they were finished printing, I called for Megan to bring some tape and to come assist me. I had her sort them out by year. Then I asked her to hang them on the wall alphabetically by account name then in the order of the month and date. I also had her highlight the outliers on each report. She initially looked at me like I was crazy but didn’t question it. She did as I asked. I alternated between helping her and setting more data to run through my software. By the time we were finished, almost all four walls were completely covered in these reports. I stood back, staring at them. Trying to figure out how to piece it all together.

I grabbed a pen and started writing large visible numbers on the reports in the order that the outliers occurred. There was one full cycle of the spike in losses for each account. No repeats. I stepped back again, staring at it with a half grin on my face while shaking my head.

“Megan, would you mind letting Mr. Carrington know that I will not be available for lunch today please. I think I’ve just found something that needs my attention.”

Megan looked at me, wide-eyed. She nodded before walking out of the room. She returned several minutes later, eager to help. We both went through numbering each cycle for the outliers. It was the same every time. One full cycle through the accounts with no repeats before it started over. However, each cycle had a different order.

I sat down in a rolling chair, turning in circles to look around the room. What now? There had to be more. I leaned my head back as I rubbed my hands down my face, trying to think. Megan excused herself to go grab our lunch delivery. I figured this might be a good time to take a bathroom break. When I rounded the corner walking to the bathroom, I passed Jay Brooks. He gave me a polite hello but didn’t stop to chat. His demeanor seemed off. I had a suspicious feeling about him.

When I got back from the bathroom, Megan had returned with our lunch. As soon as I walked toward her, she leaned into me while looking around slightly paranoid. She started speaking quietly.

“So, it may be nothing, but when I was coming back, I saw Mr. Brooks attempting to swipe into this room. He never uses this room for anything.”

“That is interesting indeed. Let’s get back to work.”

We both ate while we stared at the walls. There was something about the changes in the numbers.

“I think I have an idea,” I said rather loudly as I dropped my food down on the table, causing Megan to jump. I grabbed my laptop and made a copy of the financial data spreadsheet. I quickly removed all the losses marked as outliers and moved those over to another excel tab. I went through and got the average losses for each year. Then, I went to the other tab and deducted those corresponding year’s average from each of the outliers. What I was left with literally had me bursting out in laughter.

“What a fucking idiot.”

“What is it?”

“When I account for the average losses across all accounts for that year and minor fluctuations, then subtract them from these outliers, I get basically the same difference for each account. These first two years, it’s a one-point five percent spike. It went up to two percent for a few years and it’s now holding steady at two-point five percent each time one spikes. It’s statistically impossible for that to be happening naturally for that many accounts.”

I wasn’t sure if Megan followed any of that. It was a lot to process. She just stared at me, wide-eyed before speaking.

“So, what you're saying is, someone is skimming a specific percentage from one account at a time on a rotation? Which would cause a spike in the losses, right?”

“You got it. He got greedy and started raising that percentage which made it even more obvious this last little bit. I can’t believe the accountant didn’t catch this.”

“I don’t think the accountant checked all the accounts because there are so many. He randomly picked them and asked for that specific data.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Megan gave me a serious look as she shook her head. That would most likely be why it wasn’t caught.

Now I had proof that malicious activity was happening, I just had to figure out how. I quickly looked back through all the audit trails relating to Mr. Brook’s accounts. There was nothing there. Everything looked legitimate.

“Can you ask the head of the IT department if he is available to see me, please?”

“Of course,” Megan said as she went to make the call.

Several minutes later, I knocked on Sam’s door. He called out for me to come in. I inquired about who has access to the mainframe and about security for that room. Sam said there were currently no cameras pointing directly at the entry door to that room, but there were some on adjoining hallways.

I realized there are also bathrooms on the same hallway as that space, so it would be hard to say definitively that someone was going into the mainframe room based on the camera footage.

I then had Sam pull up a list of IP addresses that had accessed specific data files on the mainframe, he noted that it was only the mainframe workstation listed to run scheduled automated jobs, most being done late in the evening.

“Sam, who has access to the mainframe workstation?”

“Technically, all the Senior level staff. Their ID card will get them in the room, and they have the admin credentials.”

“Seriously? Why?” I didn’t even give him a chance to answer before continuing.

“You know what, never mind. It doesn’t matter at this point. Can you get me room access information for the last six months and the automated job schedules by tomorrow please?

“Of course, I can. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it for now. Thank you.”

I left Sam’s office and walked back to the secondary conference room. I found Mr. Carrington and Megan there. Mr. Carrington’s face showed confusion as he looked around the room. I started to walk him through today’s discoveries, his confusion turned to aww. He said that he was impressed with my unconventional methods. Laughing as he looked around the room.

“I don’t want to leave this up overnight in case someone gets in here,” he stated.

“Of course. I had planned to take pictures and shred everything before I leave.”

“I’ll let you get to it then. Megan, please help her dispose of this after she’s done.”

Megan gave a slight nod as I moved to pull out my high-definition professional camera from my bag. I methodically started taking pictures of small sections of the walls. As I would finish with one section, Megan would pull them down and shred them. We finished just as it was time to call it quits for the day. She and I were both feeling worn out as the adrenaline started to wear off, but we were still excited by what we had accomplished. We said our goodbyes, then I headed downstairs to meet Joe.

It was close to six when Joe pulled up in front of the hotel. I felt giddy from today’s discoveries and anxious to see Dieter. Joe parked the car and opened my door, giving me his usual spiel. I quickly made my way inside and grabbed the back corner booth in the restaurant. I took off my blazer as I sat down because I was feeling hot suddenly. Bartender Tim made his way over and asked what I would be having. I asked for some mozzarella sticks and opted for a fruity mixed drink rather than wine and water. I had a good day, so I was feeling something a little extra. I pulled out my laptop to work on my report and looked through a few more datasets while I waited.

About forty-five minutes later, Dieter came in through the front entrance. I didn’t even have to see him to know. I could literally feel him. I looked up as he was walking into the restaurant. Our eyes focused on each other. The biggest smile spread across his face as he approached the booth. He was wearing dark colored jeans and a fitted white t-shirt, both of which were hugging him in ways that should be illegal. His hair was messy, hanging down over his forehead and he was wearing the black rimmed glasses. He was also still sporting just a hint of facial hair. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to control myself. The glasses were taking it over the top. He looked like he had had a good day. Hopefully that meant he got the news he had been waiting for.

He slid into the booth, still smiling with the sweetest look on his face. His energy was infectious. He turned to face me, took a deep breath, and said, “I got the part!”

I did a little clap, and I stomped my feet simultaneously. I was excited for him. I leaned toward him and gave him a side hug and a small rub on his back as I said congratulations. Yeah, I was shamelessly flirting with this guy again. Clearly, I was already feeling the effects from my mixed drink.

He put in his order with bartender Tim. He too ordered a mixed drink and another round of mozzarella sticks. He asked how my day had gone and I shared the new developments. Excited that I was finally on to something. He was full of questions and wanted to know every little detail as to how I had figured things out. He finished his drink off quickly as he listened.

“I think you literally just blew my mind. You’re too fucking smart.” he said with a laugh and shook his head in disbelief as he leaned back against the booth.

“Not really, the computer does most of the work for me. The rest is just recognizing patterns and reasoning.” I said, taking another sip of my drink.

“However, please feel free to continue to stroke my ego. I won’t argue too much.”

His eyes met mine and he continued to chuckle at my response. There was a look in his eyes that was unreadable. We sat staring at each other for a moment. His eyes briefly dropped down to my mouth as I bit my bottom lip, then down to his drink. He adjusted in his seat. Then, rubbed his left thumb across his bottom lip and down the side of his face before resting it on his right shoulder, giving it a small squeeze as he exhaled. I continued to look at him a moment longer. He looked slightly flushed. The energy between us had shifted. It was electric. At that moment, I knew tonight was going to be interesting and I was one hundred percent on board with it. I basically gave up any sense of control I was holding on to. It was one of my few “fuck it” moments that I was probably going to regret, and again, I didn’t event care.

I interrupted the silence, “We should get a shot to celebrate. We both had success today.”

He laughed at my enthusiasm and agreed. I slid out of the booth and asked him what he wanted. He opted for a shot of whisky. I walked up to the bar to get Tim’s attention and asked for two shots of whisky. As I waited, I could see Dieter’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He definitely looked me up and down, then quickly looked away. The pants I wore today were a good choice I thought to myself as bartender Tim passed me the shots.

I sat back down with the drinks; we clinked the glasses together before downing them. We continued chatting for a while about anything and everything. Movies, books, music, all the typical topics. Playfully arguing with each other when we disagreed on something. Both of us sneaking in brief touches here and there. I had shifted to face him in the booth, with my leg bent up on the seat. He kept touching my thigh when he would laugh about something I said. Even giving a gentle squeeze occasionally. It was taking my mind to places it shouldn’t be. I could feel the tension between us building.

Around ten o’clock, my phone buzzed on the table. It was Lauren. One short message asking how tonight went. I didn’t answer. She was going to be pissed at me. I looked at the time.

“Oh, it's nearly ten o’clock. Geez, that was fast. I guess they’ll be closing soon.”

I sat my phone back on the table. Feeling disappointed. Dieter looked a little disappointed too.

“Time flies when you're having fun I guess,” he said as he finished off his latest drink. I finished off mine too. We settled our bill, then we both stood, making sure we had all our things. I grabbed a mozzarella stick and stuck it in my mouth as I walked in front of him toward the exit. He started laughing at me and shaking his head. I wasn’t completely drunk, but I still had a good buzz going at this point. Completely at ease and enjoying myself. I hadn’t really been like this in years. It was kind of nice to let loose if I was being honest.

We both got on the elevator. Being in such close quarters had my nerve endings on fire while the smell of his cologne wafted around me. My head felt foggy. It took us a minute to realize that neither of us had hit the number for our floor. We looked at each other and started laughing as he reached over to hit the number 9. He backed into the corner next to me, our arms touching. The elevator jerked as it started its ascent, causing me to stumble on my unsteady feet and fall against him. The length of our bodies touching as he caught me from falling. We both froze momentarily. I looked up at him to give my apologies, but no words left my mouth. My eyes dropped to his lips. He leaned in halfway and stopped with a questioning look on his face. I closed the distance between us and kissed him. I reached up and put my hands on the back of his neck, giving his hair a little tug as we both deepened the kiss. His hands tightened around my waist, pulling me in closer.

We broke apart when the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Staring at each other, wide-eyed. I think we were both in shock over what just happened. I gave him a shy smile and walked past him down the hallway toward my suite. My fingers over my lips the whole way. The heat from his lips, still present. I could feel him following closely behind me. I caught his reflection in the glass of a picture frame at the end of the hall as we approached our suites. He had his hands in his pockets and was watching me with a hint of a smile on his face.

We reached his door first. I took a deep breath before I turned around to tell him good night. He was looking at me intently. His eyes were unreadable. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something but stopped. He reached up to push a stray piece of hair out of my face that had fallen loose at some point and then smiled.

“I should be free tomorrow evening if you want to hang out again…I know it’s your last day here, so feel free to tell me no, if you have other plans.”

I smiled, “No, no other plans. I’ll be right here. In the hotel, I mean.”

My eyes shifted down, realizing my brain was failing me as he kept looking at me. All I could think about doing was dragging him into my room. I shook my head to clear it and smiled, telling him good night and that I would see him the following day. Reaching out to squeeze his hand as I said it. Then I turned and walked to my door without looking back. It was a second before I heard his key card in the lock. I caught a glimpse of his back as he entered his suite.

I walked into my suite, setting my things down on the couch. I stood in place for a minute. Staring at nothing as I tried to process what happened. I decided to get ready for bed and try to decompress. I pulled my blouse and shoes off, then walked into the bathroom and started brushing my teeth. I took my hair down. It fell in soft dark waves around my shoulders. I stared at myself in the mirror, noticing that my pupils were dilated. I laughed at myself. This was absurd. I could not believe how I had acted this evening. It was a sobering moment and I felt like I was past whatever had come over me by that point. I just needed to be away from him to gather my thoughts.

As I was digging through my suitcase for some pajamas, I heard a light knock on the door. I stood there for a moment, confused. It didn’t sound like it was the main door. Another knock. It was at the door adjoining mine and Dieter’s suites. My stomach did a flip once I realized it.

I walked into the bedroom and opened my side. Dieter was standing there, with his arm propped on the door frame above his head. He was wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt. Skin showing just below the hem of his shirt from where his arm was raised. My eyes lingered there before meeting his. I was certain that he noticed. He took his arm down and rubbed his thumb down the side of his lips as he hesitated to speak, eyeing me. I leaned on the opposite side of the door frame waiting for him to say something.

“I’m sorry, I-I.. shouldn’t have bothered you. I…just wanted to apologize for earlier. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and…”

“You couldn’t’ stop thinking about apologizing or kissing me?”

He stopped, realizing what he had said. He was trying to read my face, looking for the correct answer. I wasn’t giving him anything to go by. I wanted to know what he was really thinking.

He hesitated, “I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you. I have been all week.”

He braced for my response. His eyebrows knitted together with a determined, but worried look. His chocolate eyes searched my face. That was all I needed to hear. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him to me. Our lips crashed together. He took a few steps toward me as I put my back flat against the wall. He put his arms around my waist and pulled me up against him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, running a hand through his hair and again tugging it gently. He groaned into my mouth, and I could feel his excitement pressing against me. Any control that I thought I regained over myself was gone.

I lowered my hands to the hem of his shirt, tugging to pull it off. He stopped kissing me to pull it over his head. My eyes took him in. His torso was toned but not overly muscular. His shoulders were broader than I realized and his arms well defined. He pulled me back to him. His hands were in my hair, then he reached down to pull my Cami off. He briefly stopped, “Is this ok?” he whispered before continuing. I let out a breathy yes, reminding myself to thank Lauren later for throwing in the sexy bra and panty sets even though I cursed her for it earlier in the day. He wrapped his arms around my waist as he kissed down my neck, lifting me off the floor slightly to walk toward the bed. After he placed me back on the ground, I reached down to palm him through his shorts, and he groaned into my mouth again. He reached for the front of my pants, not finding what he was looking for. He pulled away for a minute, looking down.

“How the hell do you get these things off?”

I started laughing as I turned around tugging at the zipper. He grabbed my hips, clearly admiring the view for a moment before trying to help me undo the zipper. In my haste to pull it down, I got it caught on the fabric. We both started laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Fuck it. Rip them.” I said through my exasperated laughs.

“This might as well be a damn chastity belt,” he said through his laughter as he gave a good tug, pulling me backward slightly.

The zipper finally popped loose. He sighed in relief as he pulled my back against his chest. Pulling my hair out of the way to kiss down my neck. I grinded my backside into him as he went to stick his hand down the front of my pants. Again, he paused asking if it was ok before continuing. I managed to squeak out another yes. He continued, rubbing my sensitive area, and feeling the wetness that was forming. My entire body was electrified. Honestly, I hadn’t felt this aroused or alive in years. Clearly, I had been missing out.

He pulled his hand out and slid my pants and panties down my legs. Then he moved to undo my bra, sliding it down my arms slowly. I turned around and reached for his shorts, but hesitated. I felt like I was in foreign territory. I hadn’t been with anyone but my ex-husband in so long. I started to doubt myself and I was unsure of how to do this. Damn my intrusive thoughts.

He caught my eyes with his, sensing my hesitation.

“We can stop if…”

“No, I just haven’t done this in a while. I feel a little out of practice.” I gave a half smile and a one shoulder shrug.

He reached for my face, kissing me gently.

“I think you are doing perfectly fine. Just don’t think about that.”

As his chocolate brown eyes stared into mine, I felt my confidence return and pulled his shorts down. He didn’t have anything underneath. I glanced down. He was definitely excited and above average in size, I assumed anyway. I didn’t have a lot to compare to. He pulled me back to him and started kissing me again. Geez, he was such a good kisser. I was never one for making out in the past, but the way his tongue moved with mine was igniting a blaze in me. I couldn’t get enough of him. I reached down and started stroking him. He sucked in air through his teeth, leaning his head back at the feeling.

I paused and his eyes snapped to mine. Concern etched his face.

“Do you have a condom? I’m… I’m not on anything…”

He paused before answering me, like he was trying to decide how to answer.

“I-I had a vasectomy…but I haven’t been with anyone in a very long time.”

He looked apprehensive while he waited for my response. Honestly, I was a little shocked. It wasn’t the response I was expecting. I would have to pack that away to process later.

“Oh...ok then. Me too. I mean, I haven’t been with anyone in a long time either.” I said, shaking my head up and down.

I could see the relief on his face. We gave each other awkward smiles and I started kissing him again. I was determined to be in the moment and not in my head worrying about every little detail.

Dieter backed me up to the bed. When it hit the back of my legs, I sat down and started to crawl backwards. He followed, hovering over me and kissing as we went. Once I settled, he was everywhere. Kissing, sucking, and touching every inch of me. He started working his way down and paused as he felt me tense.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said as I grasped onto his hand. He looked at me with questioning eyes.

“It’s just…that’s never really done anything for me.”

“Then clearly someone didn’t know what they were doing. Relax and let me have a go at it.”

He gave me a mischievous grin and started sucking on the inside of my thigh. I gave him a small smile and nodded for him to continue.

As soon as he put his mouth on me, a loud moan escaped my lips. Maybe he was right. It didn’t take long for me to reach my peak. It was easily the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. A high that I had never reached.

Dieter crawled back up to hover over me, looking pleased with himself.

“Ok, you were right. Someone didn’t know what they were doing.”

He laughed at my declaration as I started to kiss him again. I could taste myself on him. We grinded against each other. After a moment, he reached down to line himself up at my entrance. He paused looking at me for permission. I resumed kissing him and bucked my hips up for him to continue. He went slow at first, giving me the chance to adjust to his size.

Once we got into a rhythm, we were fueled by pure need. Our bodies saying what our words failed to. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Our hands and lips were everywhere, sucking and caressing. My entire body felt like it was burning with want. It had never been like this for me before. I gave myself over completely. I could feel that familiar burn building again as I climaxed for a second time that evening. Dieter nipped my jawline and kissed down my neck as I arched my back through it. Once I started to come down, he grabbed my leg, just behind my knee and raised it to change the angle. I could feel the burn building again as my muscles started to contract around him for the third time.

“I’m about to…” he trailed off through his heavy breathing. He placed his forehead against mine and I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist while we both tensed from our releases.

He sat there unmoving for several minutes. We both attempted to get our breathing under control in between the deep sensual kisses we shared. We were both covered in sweat and trembling from the exertion. He rubbed his nose against mine and gave me one last peck on the lips before he rolled off to lay beside me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest.

“That was…unexpected,” he said once his breathing had calmed down.

“It was. I’m not complaining.”

Dieter laughed while he twirled my hair in his fingers.

“I think I need something to drink,” I said as I laid there, unmoving. He moved to get up, agreeing that he did too. I told him I had water in the fridge. I shamelessly admired his backside as he walked out of the room.

He came back quickly, turning all the lights off as he went. He handed me a bottle of water then pulled the blanket back and climbed in covering us both up. We both downed a significant amount of water before setting the bottles on the nightstands. He scooted down in the bed onto his left side and pulled me over to him. My back to his chest. He wrapped his right arm around me with his left bent back under his head and nuzzled his face into my hair. I laced my fingers into his right hand, pulling his arm tighter around me while our legs tangled together.

For the first time in a long time, I felt content. I felt safe and unjudged. I decided I would let myself enjoy the moment and worry about consequences later. I just wanted to be happy and without worry for once. Even if it was only for one night.

I noticed his breathing shifted to slow, steady breaths. He had fallen asleep. I further relaxed into the warmth of his embrace, letting sleep take me too.

At some point in the middle of the night, I felt his foot slide down my leg, then he hugged me a little tighter. I wasn’t sure if he was awake or not. He didn’t seem to be. At least not all of him. I stretched my stiff muscles, pushing my backside into him as I did so, feeling the hardness press into me. I did a little wiggle and he groaned into my ear, burying his head into the crook of my neck. His fingers tightened in mine. He was definitely awake now.

I turned my head toward him, our lips meeting. It was slow and sensual. His hand made its way down to my core where he started working his magic with his fingers. I was panting and reached my peak quickly. He slid his hand down to my thigh, repositioning my leg. Then he propped himself up on his left arm to position himself and enter me from behind. He laid back down, wrapping both arms around me, then began moving, very slowly. We both groaned at the feeling. This position was a new experience for me. The angle hitting pleasure spots I didn’t know existed.

His right hand alternated between roaming my body and grasping my hip to pull me back to him. My head was laying in the crook of his left arm, his left hand bent up, tangling in my hair while I turned to kiss him. I threaded my right hand through his hair, grasping it tightly causing a deep groan from him. He would switch between fast and slow thrust to prolong the experience. When he felt my body begin to tense, he picked up the pace and we both reached our high together, letting out pants and moans as we rode it out.

We melted into each other as our breathing slowed. He continued to place random kisses down my neck and nuzzled back into my hair.

“Why are you so fucking amazing.”

It was a statement. Not a question. I laughed at him.

“Can we just stay here, like this, and forget the rest of the world exists?” He said with his face buried in my neck. I chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

I started lightly rubbing his right arm, which was still wrapped around me. Within minutes he was asleep again. For a minute, I dared to wonder what it would be like to wake up with him every morning. To be in a relationship with him. He was so attentive and caring. The opposite of what I had before. Is that something I was even capable of right now? Emotionally I was kind of a mess. Not to mention the psychological effects of what I had been through. I quickly dismissed that train of thought. I was getting ahead of myself. As far as I was concerned, this was just a fling. I’d most likely never see him again after this week anyway. I eventually dozed off into a deep sleep.

A/N: More spice coming in the next chapter. 😉

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chiruba · 3 years

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JJK BOYS' BEING SCARED TO CONFESS !

an. thank u for 100 + followers!! <3 holy fuck inumaki’s was hard to write bc of the letter LOL also heres to hopin my tags actu work for this post

ft. gojo, inumaki x gn!reader

wc. 1.2k

genre. fluff, angst if u squint in gojo's

► MASTERLIST ► TAGLIST ►

GOJO SATORU ►

— OK so usually i wouldn't imagine him as being scared to confess

— but,

— if he really likes you, i think his hidden insecurities will start comin out

— yes, gojo is the strongest sorcerer

— but even the strongest sorcerer can't save everyone

— he knows you'll be targeted if you're openly with him

— so gojo represses his feelings as best as he can

— which for some reason involves him -

— flirting with you one day

— and then completely ignoring your existence the next

— eventually you just get tired of it

"satoru!" you yell, surprising yourself from the sheer volume of your voice. it's clear he knew you were coming, but you still see the way his shoulders tense when you call his name. gojo at least has the decency to stop, and you're unsure if it's because he doesn't want to risk making you angrier, or if this is one of the days' he'll actually talk to you. you huff in anger before gripping his wrist to spin him around, and you can tell he's avoiding your eyes despite the black blindfold around his eyes.

"well?" you ask, tone cold and straightforward. gojo decides to take a glance at you, and sees you standing there with crossed arms, looking at him like a disappointed parent. "are you going to stop giving me the cold shoulder and tell me what's going on? i'm not in the mood to play some childish game, gojo." the use of his family name coming from you makes his heart ache, and he panics at the thought of you being genuinely angry and upset at him rather than mildly annoyed.

"i'm not playing some game," he says, and you feel yourself straighten up at the seriousness in his voice. your eyebrows furrow together in concern as you try to think of your last few interactions with gojo. he hadn't been acting this way with anyone else but you (you know because you'd asked nanami, and nanami knew all), and if this wasn't some game he was playing, had you done something to make him upset? the thought makes you feel guilty, remembering how you'd scolded him like a child just moments earlier. was it the joke about his forehead? surely he'd know you hadn't meant it, no matter how true it was-

"i love you-"

"your forehead isn't that small-"

...what?

you blinked at him once, then twice, then thrice, and then a fourth just to make sure you really weren't dreaming right now. your best friend of years, with his cocky attitude, cute dumb jokes and flirty remarks that made your face heat and heart race was in love with you? gojo lifted his blindfold suddenly, cocking an eyebrow up at you.

"hey! what about my forehead?-"

"i like you, too." you breathed out, voice shaky with either excitement or nervousness, you couldn't choose. gojo stared at you with those ocean coloured eyes of his, and then broke out into a grin.

"hmm?" you braced yourself, already knowing gojo's incessable adorable teasing was coming, "i don't exactly think i said like, did i?"

INUMAKI TOGE ►

— i def see inumaki being more scared to confess

— 1. because he can't think of a proper way to tell you his feelings

— a text just doesn't feel personal enough or embed his true feelings

— which leaves inumaki in a dilemma

— obviously, panda is quick to catch onto inumaki's feelings

— when he learns about inumaki's dilemma, he just bursts out laughing

— panda offers him the very simple solution - write a damn letter

— inumaki was so caught up in his feelings he literally just did not Think of it.

— spends hours writing the letter and tearing up it several times while also rehearsing how and where he would give it to you

— until the moment actually came, and all inumaki could do was shove the letter into your hands, yell tuna mayo, and run away.

— … yeah

your early sunday mornings had started consisting of heading down to the field every tokyo jujutsu school student used as early as your first week as a first-year, causing you to quickly develop a routine - get changed into your gym clothes, head down to the field earlier on to relax before maki kicked your ass, and then rush back to the dorms for a shower. except this time, you were pleasantly surprised to see that halfway through your routine, you were met with the familiar cute face of a fellow student, cursed speech user inumaki toge.

"inumaki?" you say, giving him a smile before slowing down your own steps to allow him time to catch up, watching as he sped to you. "you're up early for once," you teased, knowing how grumpy he can get without his allocated sleeping time. once inumaki catches up to you, you continue walking on, fully expecting inumaki to just continue alongside you. only for him to catch you off guard completely, gently spinning you around to face him once more.

seeing inumaki up close, you quickly take notice of the flush of red on his cheeks, popping out from under his collar, along with the sudden dark eye circles. inumaki's breathing is muffled, but loud enough for you to hear he's panting, the rapid rising and falling of his chest confirming it. you furrow your eyebrows in concern, also noting the way inumaki had practically sprinted to you moments before for no reason, along with the absence of his usual cheery - "kelp!"- greeting.

"inumaki?" you say once more, your tone both obviously worried and confused, "are you feeling okay?-" you have to practically plant your feet into the ground to stop from stumbling back when inumaki shoves something into your hand suddenly, only realising its a slip of paper when you feel it crinkle in your palm after an experimental squeeze. you look back at inumaki for even just a hint of an explanation, and instead all you get is -

"tuna mayo!" he yells, and then takes off running. you're left in a daze as you watch inumaki's figure become more and more distant, and only when you can no longer see him do you remember the paper currently crinkled up in your hands. the first thing you notice are the little onigiris drawn on the top of the paper, an inumaki staple as you'd like to call it. this time, the onigiris have blush streaks on their 'cheeks' as they hold hands, a single heart bouncing off their heads.

to you,

toge here! obviously i know it's not february anymore, as you (probably? lolol dumbas) know, but panda i'm tired of letting my chances slip past me.

there are so many things i want to say to you every day, but now that i'm here i don't even know where to start, so i'm just going to say it properly. i like you like a shitton. i wish i could say this to you properly, if i had the confidence if i could, i would scream my love for you to the world. i may not be your first date, kiss or love, but i want to be your last, just as i hope you'll be mine.

there are thousands of other things i want to say to you, but i'll save it until i get your reply. please don't feel pressured to accept me, no matter what, you'll always have a special place in my heart, my first love.

from hopefully yours,

toge inumaki. 🍙

ill give u a kiss goodnight if u reblog <3

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #inumaki x reader #jjk inumaki #inumaki to/ge #inumaki to/ge x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen inumaki #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo fluff #inumaki fluff #jjkmag

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yuujism · 4 years

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a curse like you (ryōmen sukuna x reader)

REQUEST: Hello! I really love ur sukuna fics and i was wondering if i can request a yuuji/sukuna x fem reader where mc is a curse that sukuna knew from many years ago?? Can be fluff, smut or angst. Up to you 😁 thank you so much!! 🤗

| PAIRINGS: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

| WARNINGS: little suggestive but nothing bad, grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: 1,653

A/N: i focused this more on sukuna idk if that’s ok with you !! if not you can send me a message or reqeust and tell me what did you expect so i can change it if i can😭!! anyway i like yearning and ex lovers to lovers prompts so uhh yea 😳 might even write this better with yuuji being more involved and more things happening lmfaosh !! i hope you enjoy!! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

Sukuna was bored out of his mind.

These situations were becoming more recurrent now that the brat that called himself his vessel started becoming stronger and getting the hang of the use of cursed energy.

He could hear everything that happened during the fight: the swearing, the sound of flesh splitting open, blood splashing and some motivational speech every now and then.

This was all a routine for the King of Curses now.

When he felt the light in his flesh for the first time in thousands of years, he swore he would never feel something like that again. It wasn’t anything that deemed itself meaningful, but after centuries of not having contact with anything at all, that moment felt like pure ectasis. He didn’t really count with having to spend most of the time inside of a brat after that.

It was all boring now. Boring, boring, boring.

“Sorcerers come pretty green now, don’t they?”

Oh?

He lifted his head way too quickly, almost giving himself whiplash even if it was impossible.

That voice. Sukuna knew that voice well. Very well if he said so himself.

This was the voice that would call him a King in a mocking tone, as if it was calling him the King of idiots instead of the King of Curses. The same voice that refused to let out the sound of his name, too proud and stuck up but whenever they were alone, feeling each other, it would slip out every now and then. A voice that would let out the sweetest pleads and moans whenever he would let his hands travel around that body. And it became the last thing he heard before he was cut into pieces and retained by sorcerers for decades, sinking into the darkness.

And now, the owner of the voice, who he thought was dead, was standing there, in front of his vessel, with the biggest smirk on her face.

Y/N. The proclaimed queen of curses.

And Sukuna’s... ex.

Sukuna felt Itadori freeze in place, looking directly at you with fear filling his body. The curse couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. Even after thousands of years, your power was way too intimidating and immaculate Sorcerers of the old age would even avoid saying Y/N’s name in fear of summoning her, knowing damn well she wouldn’t hesitate to kill them for making bad use of her title.

They could feel it. They knew you weren’t just a cursed spirit. You could talk and appeared out of nowhere without even making your presence known. You were probably at the same level as Sukuna. Or Sukuna was at the same level as you.

He really thought you were killed after he was captured, only remembering your revengeful words towards the sorcerers who killed your lover. After that, and for obvious reasons, he never heard of you. Not even in this new era where sorcerers spawned one after the other, never mentioning your name or any hint that lead to your survival. So to see you in front of him, safe and sound and impactful as ever, Sukuna felt relief.

Y/N’s eyes landed on Yuji’s restless ones, as if she was staring at his soul. Which, basically, she did. Her gaze passed all the way through his barrier and soul, finally reaching what she was looking for: Sukuna’s own soul and eyes.

“Damn, King, is that you?” in a blink of an eye, you were right before Itadori’s face, too quick for him to even react and even too scared. “Shit, you’re pretty fucked now, huh? All trapped inside a bag of human flesh.”

Before the girl with the hammer could strike your body after snapping out of her trance, you limited yourself to press a finger in the sorcerer’s forehead, smiling almost sweetly before sending her body flying back with extreme force against the furthest wall of the space, knocking her out.

“K-Kugisa- Hngh!” Itadori’s words were interrupted by a hand wrapping around his neck, slightly lifting him from the ground as he struggled to move, too weak from the constant fighting with all the cursed spirits that came in a flood.

“Now, now,” Your voice was too calm, almost tired, getting closer to Yuuji’s face “Why don’t you switch with the oh-so-mighty King of curses? Too scared to come out, huh, King?”

Your tone ticked Sukuna in more than one way. You were still the same annoying bitch as before.

If you wanna live you better switch with me, you damn brat.

“Like hell I would switch with you! You’re gonna kill us!”

“Oh, so you can talk with him within yourself?” You let out an amused snort, your grip getting tighter. “Ridiculous!”

Foolish human, she will kill you. Switch with me.

Even if his vessel dying didn’t mean anything to Sukuna, he knew he would never get the chance to meet you again, probably for another thousand years, and these sorcerers were too invested in vanishing him from the face of the earth.

When Yuuji was about pass out, eyes half closing and his windpipe being pressed roughly, you noticed the way his skin started developing black marks in his face and along his body. You smiled widely when the small scars under the sorcerer’s eyes opened to reveal a red colour looking straight at you, the whole features of this guy in front of you changing to reveal what you were looking forward too.

Sukuna’s hand wrapped around your wrist, claws digging into your flesh as you both stared at each other with a mix of emotions: hatred, anger, amusement. And something more.

“Move.”

You dropped him, backing up a bit as he fixed the hoodie his vessel was wearing, glaring at the queen of curses. You didn’t change at all. If Sukuna had to be honest, you were as hot tempered and attractive as before. He could perfectly remember the way your body reacted whenever he touched the spots that drove you crazy A sly smirk appeared on his face as he noticed the same movement of fingers when you were restless, and he knew it was because of him.

“Nervous, Y/N?” Sukuna chuckled, walking to you to circle around your frame, looking up and down your body. “You know I don’t bite, baby. Unless you ask me to, that is.”

You turned around to look at him behind you, incredulous.

“Hah?” Your head fell back, letting out a louder than usual laugh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, King. I’m just worried I’ll easily step on you while you’re in this vessel of yours.” Your hand started glowing with your cursed energy, raising an eyebrow at the way his indifferent expression didn’t flinch. “And even more now since you get dominated so easily.”

Once again, something in Sukuna ticked. If there was something he hated more than being looked down upon, it’d be the fact of not being in control of any situation. He never once admitted it, but your comments really got to him. He wanted to be praised and adored by you, queen who would never adore anyone but herself. This just made him even more infatuated by you. Perhaps even after all this time, he could make you say his name in a broken voice.

“You see, you shouldn’t be talking to me like that.” Your smile went away when a hand reached one of your cheeks, caressing it with such care you almost gagged. However, you couldn’t help the way your heart started beating faster. “Or do you think I don’t remember the way I made you submit to me?”

This time, it was you who twitched with anger. Sukuna’s hand grabbed your chin, his eyes falling on those delicious lips that committed the most sinful of acts and spat out the dirtiest of words. He was getting excited already, the fire within him starting to awaken after a long time.

When his face started getting closer to yours, you spat on him, the liquid landing on his cheek and laughing at his dumbfounded reaction after such action.

“A half-assed curse like you shouldn’t be talking to ME like that.” You snarled back, your arm swinging to attack the man in front of you. You almost chanted victory when your fist perfectly landed on the side of his face, making his head to turn to the side.

But when Sukuna turned to look back at you still with your fist against him, you gulped. There was no reaction, no injury that showed he was at least a little faced by the sudden attack.

This was it.

“Well, fuck.” You almost laughed again, expecting the worst to come when his eyes flashed with something dark, grabbing you by both sides of your head. All that time surviving for nothing. Keeping yourself hidden from every single sorcerer that walked the earth and now you were going to get killed by your ex-lover.

But instead of receiving the coup de grâce, Sukuna’s lips smashed against yours in a hungry manner, groaning against your mouth as your hands flew to scratch his arms in surprise, eyes open wide before the movement of his lips and strong hand in the back of your neck made you close them, not being able to fight back your own desires.

Sukuna missed this. Honestly, he missed any kind of physical touch but the fact it was with you again, made him realise it would always be you.

He was as calm as the silence surrounding you now, only the sounds of your heavy breathing filling your flushed ears. You were burning up, face red and glassy eyes. Sukuna smiled before slightly pulling your hair, head slightly falling back and taking advantage of this to place the softest of kisses in your neck. You let out a rather pathetic moan and he deeply chuckled.

“And a curse like you should know who is in charge here.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen writing #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk writing #itadori yuji #yuuji itadori #jjk x reader #sukuna #itadori x reader

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joshslater · 3 years

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Appointments

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I can understand why they don't trust people here, a lot of them are real criminals after all, but it still feels a bit humiliating to down the crushed pill and empty the entire glass of water while the nurse is watching. I have to show up fifteen minutes before the scheduled appointment to take the first drug, whatever it is, and then sit down and wait for it to take effect. The fifteen minutes doesn't even count towards the reserved time. It's three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, up to three hours each, for four months. That's the sentence to stay out of jail. Miss an appointment, straight to jail. Don't comply with the treatment, straight to jail. Still a pretty good deal. Nine hours per week I don't have any control over, or ten hours if you count this sitting and waiting bullshit, compared to all hours all the time in jail.

I have no idea what the pill is for. Some sort of sedative I'm sure, because I always feel a bit dull and agreeable after. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have followed all the doctor's instructions so readily if I wasn't drugged somehow, at least not the first few times. Now it is kind of a routine.

I show up, take the drug, and wait a bit. Then she shows up and asks me to join her in one of the procedure rooms. She tells me to remove my shoes, jeans, and underwear and place myself on the chair. It's not really a chair. It's like a Z-shaped thing where you place your legs on the padded lower bars so you are kneeling, and then bend forward so your upper body is flat with the top with your head looking down on the floor past the edge of the padded top surface.

She walks behind me and asks if I'm comfortable. Not really. It's demeaning to sit there and expose my ass to her, legs apart, but I guess that is the point of this therapy. How it will address my supposed anger issues is beyond me. Better than jail though. When I tell her I am she secures my hands down by my hip with straps and then proceeds to strap my legs in place by securing my ankles. She says it is for my own safety, so I don't fall off. It's probably bullshit, but she is right in it's not very secure, but tricky enough to wiggle out of. Not that I have tried. She then tips the entire thing forwards. I had a bit of a scare the first time and audibly gasped as I thought I was about to crash face first into the floor with arms and legs tied. Turned out it's just a secondary position of the thing, positioning my ass up in the air.

"Are you comfortable?" she asks again, every time. Again I say I am, strapped to chair, face almost touching the floor, my naked ass high and exposed. She then slowly inserts something into my asshole. It doesn't go that far in, but feels heavy and has some wires or tubes going to it that I can feel draping my leg. It enters easily. I don't know if it is the same device as the first time, but I wouldn't be surprised if they have been scaling up the size slowly. All I can do is look down the floor while she sets me up and then starts the machine.

Just before leaving the room there is a little pinch in the ass as she injects something in my butt cheek. Then she leaves, promising to be back once it has run its program, never explaining what "it" or "the program" is. The first minutes I feel nothing. Then there is movement, though different between appointments. It can expand in width, it can penetrate deeper, it can vibrate, it can rotate, it can change temperature. It often runs through a series of configurations.

I don't know which of the drugs, if any of them, is making me horny but it doesn't take long until I can hear the soft tapping of precum dripping into the metal tray at the bottom of the chair. It's pointless to try to stay alert. You're stuck in the chair for hours with nothing else than looking at the floor and listening to the hum of the machine and the drip of body fluids. You can just as well close your eyes and let yourself drift away in machine-induced bliss.

It's affecting me for sure. The Monday session is the one I'm craving the most. I start getting anxious already Sunday afternoon, feeling like something is missing. So far I've resisted the temptation to buy a vibrator and explore my ass on my own time, but there is little else I can think of on Mondays before the appointment.

It always feels like no time at all has passed, certainly like too little time has passed, when she comes back into the room and gloves up. I'm just zoned out like a stoner and sometimes don't notice her until she removes the thing from my ass. She then proceeds to unlock the dick cage from my dick and balls. Given my horny bliss the dick will shoot up like a bamboo rod. She has some sort of wand that feels pretty thin that she then puts into the ass right up to the prostate. It never takes many seconds of vibrations for me to shoot a load. It feels like they are bigger than ever before. I'm certainly pulsing more times than before, like 6-10 ropes.

She then washes my butt, dick, and balls, and massage them with some sort of cream. Perhaps different ones. Then she picks up a new, probably sterilized, dick cage and locks everything up. She tilts the chair back up again and asks if everything is OK before undoing the straps holding me in place. I answer that everything is OK, but that really undersells it. I'm like a stoner in a post-orgasm haze for at least ten minutes. Then she reminds me to put on my underwear, pants, and shoes before leaving and reminds me of the next appointment two or three days later.

"You're next," she tells me from the other side of the waiting room, interrupting my read of top sexiest men on Love Island list from Cosmopolitan. The selection of magazines is rather limited. "Afternoon," I reply, putting away the magazines and walking towards the door.

"How was the weekend?" "Hot, as you well know. I didn't do much." I don't tell her I was spending all of Sunday considering pushing blunt objects up my ass to relieve myself. "It doesn't invite to activities, does it? Go ahead and make yourself comfortable."

In a now well-practiced routine I kick off my shoes, take off my jeans, fold them and place them on the chair just inside the door, remove my boxers, and put them on top of the jeans. Then I kneel in place on the procedure chair and give my dick cage a quick jiggle. Nothing worse than being strapped to some medical equipment and having your scrotum pinched. Then I bend forward over the shelf, and position my arms back, along the sides of my body.

As always before the doctor secures my arms and legs, and tips the entire contraption forward.

"Are you comfortable like this?" "Yes."

She then deviates from normal procedure by wiping down my ass with some sort of wet wipes and then inserts the automatic douche. I can feel liquid being pushed in and sucked out of my ass a few times, after which she removes the equipment and leaves the room. I'm starting to become anxious. This is the longest I've been in two months without anything vibrating in my ass. I try to flex my butt cheeks to no success.

After way too long someone enters the room again. "Good afternoon, I'm James." I can only move my head a little and can't see much more than a pair of sneakers and the lower part of sweatpants.

"Hi."

He rifles through some papers.

"I understand you've been under this treatment for two months now, correct?" "Yes." The whole thing feels absurd. Whoever this dude is, he's talking to my exposed ass. "So you now have a fully developed prostate massage addiction?" "What? No!" "No? So, you would prefer to be released and go home now?"

No, I need my treatment, but that is totally different.

"No. You have to do what you normally do." "You want me to massage your prostate?" "Yes! Or whatever is normally done."

I can hear the snap of a rubber glove and within seconds a finger is with ease pushing into my ass. He is probing around carefully and deliberately. I want to move my butt to get it deeper, to have it flick across my prostate, but I'm too tied down. He fumbles around like that for minutes.

"You need to get in deeper," I say almost desperately. "I'm sorry my fingers are only so long," he says, continuing with his ineffectual rummaging. And after a few seconds, like he was carefully considering it, "My dick is longer, though. I can use that if you like." "Funny," I say, dismissing his joke.

While he continues doing what I must now assume to be deliberately the wrong thing, the thought continues to linger in my mind. Would it really be a big difference between having another man's fingers or his dick up my ass. Yes! Yes, I decide. But why? This is covered by patient confidentiality, right? HIPPA or HIIPA or HIPAA or whatever. No one has to know.

"What if you did?" "What if I did what?" He was forcing me to say it. "What if you did use your dick instead?" "Would you like me to?"

He must be right. I must be addicted to prostate massage. Why the fuck that happened is a later question. I feel like a soda bottle being lazily shaken by someone. I need to be unscrewed.

"Yes. Yes!"

He pulls out his finger and I can hear the sound of latex, him fiddling with his pants, and then without warning feel something thick and warm moving up inside me. I have a slight shiver as it moves past my prostate and further in. It sure is longer than his fingers all right. I can feel the warmth of his body as it touches against my butt cheeks when he finally gets balls deep. He stops there, leans over me, and asks "Are you comfortable like this?"

"Yes," I say automatically before realizing I really am.

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eliemo · 4 years

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Permafrost: Chapter 1

Summary: After Virgil agrees to follow Roman into the Imagination, a shift in the weather and an unfortunate misstep sends Virgil plummeting into uncharted waters. If only it didn't take a matter of life or death and a race against time to realize the Prince might not hate him after all.

TW: Drowning, progressing hypothermia, effects of severe cold

Notes: Romantic Prinxiety (pre relationship, they’re pining idiots) Right now I think this will only be a couple chapters, but let me know if I should make a taglist for this story!

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“This is stupid,” Virgil said for the third time in the last ten minutes. “We’re gonna freeze to death.”

It was very clearly pissing Roman off, and if he wasn’t so miserable he’d be grinning like an idiot at the Prince’s clear exasperation. “We’re not going to freeze. Don’t be dramatic, Negative Nancy, that’s my thing.”

Virgil scoffed, glancing up at the expanse of snow covered trees towering overhead, branches bare and twisted, coated in sparkling white. It felt endless, everything around them perfectly identical and a little overwhelming.

He shuddered as the wind picked up again, drowning out anything he might have been about to say, and he absently shook off snow sticking to his shoes, really wishing he’d decided to wear his combat boots today.

Then again, he hadn’t expected to be trapped in the Imagination in below freezing weather.

“Let me complain, Princey,” he said, hoping that their familiar banter could make this whole thing suck a little bit less. “You’re the one that trapped me in here.”

“You’re the one that agreed to follow me,” Roman shot back, a little more sharp than Virgil had been hoping for. “You didn’t have to.”

“You invited me. And someone has to make sure you don’t get killed in here.”

“I’m perfectly capable,” Roman said. “The cold is no match for a dashing Prince! Besides, the beast is dead, my realm is perfectly safe when I need it to be- if it weren’t for someone refusing to enjoy the scenery, this might actually be a nice walk.”

“It’s freezing and we have to walk for another hour,” Virgil argued. “How the hell am I supposed to enjoy this?”

It hadn’t been snowing when they’d first stepped into the Imagination, some two hours ago now. It had been warm and sunny, the world around them lush and green, bright and inviting as Virgil followed Roman on his apparently routine adventure.

He hoped it hadn’t been obvious how excited he’d been when Roman had asked him to come along. He and the Prince had never been close, (that was putting it lightly, Virgil was all too aware of how much Roman hated Anxiety) but ever since Virgil had revealed his name things had been...better.

Not great, nowhere near perfect, but better. Their fights had started to devolve into banter, and Virgil found he actually enjoyed talking to Roman now. He wasn’t reduced to a villain anymore, and he’d never actually realized just how much he hated the tight feeling in his chest when Thomas had always dismissed him as the bad guy. He’d been pushing the hurt down for so long and now…

Now wasn’t the time to think about it. Now was the time to focus on moving forward, as shaky as the progress was sometimes. It was still progress.

Virgil knew Roman didn’t like him, and he probably had no intention of even being real friends, any effort to be polite for Patton and Logan’s sake only.

Which Virgil might have been able to live with, if he hadn’t recently figured out that he really, really liked Roman.

He’d sort of...not actually hated the Prince for a while now, just another hopeless, gnawing feeling that drove him to consider ducking out in the first place.

The feelings had come out of nowhere, slowly sneaking up on him and only growing now that they were closer, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

The things Roman did that Virgil had once thought were annoying became...begrudgingly endearing. His rants, his dramatic gestures, the constant singing and humming under his breath...it was all so stupidly charming. Roman was funny and kind and passionate and brave and...and Virgil might have developed a little bit of a crush.

Dammit.

He knew nothing would come from it. He could be pretty stupid, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise. Roman had declared him an enemy since day one, and Virgil was just beginning to hope the Prince might actually tolerate him enough to call him a friend. Just a friend.

But Roman had invited him into the Imagination today, to be an extra set of eyes while he slayed the monster patrolling the realm, and Virgil had agreed without a second thought. If he and Roman could just learn to coexist...Virgil didn’t need anything else. Anything was better than being hated.

And having Roman as a friend was far from the worst thing in the world. It still gave him the Prince’s smiles, his laughs, and his company.

That being said, trudging through the snow and freezing his ass off for the next hour was not how he’d like to be spending the day. Why couldn’t Princey invite him to do something normal like watching a movie?

“Aren’t you supposed to be Creativity?” Virgil called over the wind picking up. God, it was cold. “Why can’t you just change the weather back?”

Roman had his back to him, keeping a few paces ahead, but Virgil could practically feel his eye roll. “I don’t control the weather here. Thomas does.”

“Thomas?”

“Not intentionally,” Roman said. “When it’s snowing like this, it probably means he’s worried or…or stressed about something.”

Virgil didn’t miss the slight hesitation, the way Roman glanced back at him, and he instinctively hunched his shoulders and pulled his hood tighter around himself.

It wasn’t his fault. He knew everyone liked to point fingers and place the blame on Anxiety whenever Thomas wasn’t feeling his best, but Virgil wasn’t here to hurt him. He just wanted to help, and he’d been trying so hard to be better lately, but he still managed to be the bad guy.

He opened his mouth to mutter an apology the Prince would probably only scoff at, but Roman beat him to it.

“Ignore that,” he said quickly, tone suddenly nowhere near his usual bravado. “I didn’t mean to imply...nevermind. Sorry.”

It was clearly forced and a little desperate, just like it had been in front of the others whenever Roman would catch himself on an insult or a nickname, but Virgil found he appreciated the effort all the same. As awkward as it was.

“It’s fine,” Virgil said. “Seriously, it’s whatever. I’ll...I can check on Thomas when we get back.”

Roman didn’t respond, but he did look over once again to flash Virgil a genuine smile, and he forcibly pushed down the butterflies rising up in his chest. It was just Roman. He was not about to get flustered because Roman had smiled at him.

But maybe it was a sign that they were getting somewhere. Maybe-

“Shit!”

Virgil froze, Roman’s curse almost drowned out by the sudden CRACK that echoed through the snowy forest. A chunk of ice broke under Roman’s boot, just big enough for him to stumble, his leg disappearing up to his knee.

“God dammit that’s freezing!”

“I thought the cold didn’t bother you,” Virgil teased before he could stop himself. He moved to help, only for Roman to hold out a warning hand. “You ok?”

“I’m fine.” The Prince wobbled a bit before he managed to pull his leg up and out of the ice, the soaked and dripping cloth clinging to his skin. “Except that my leg is going to fall off!”

Virgil couldn’t imagine how cold that must be, to feel icy cold wind against soaked clothes, but he could recognize that Roman wasn’t actually hurt or scared, despite the way he’d started shivering a bit. Thank god the water was only up to his knee.

“Stop panicking,” Virgil said, and smirked despite his own rising worry. “That’s my thing, Princey.”

Roman scoffed and shook out his leg, drops of water seeping into the plush white snow. The ice they hadn’t even realized they’d been walking on creaked under the movement and Virgil paled, eyes flying to Roman who quickly noticed the anxious side’s distress.

“Relax,” the Prince said. “It was just a weak spot, and it’s only a couple inches deep. I could reach the bottom.”

“We should still be worried about getting our clothes wet in this weather.” It seemed to have gotten colder, even as Virgil remained perfectly dry. “Didn’t Logan do a whole lecture about hypothermia a few years ago?”

“We’re not getting hypothermia, Panic at the Everywhere. Logan gives a lecture on everything. Worst case scenario is I come down with a little cold, and our dear Patton feels guilty and smothers me for a few days.”

Virgil laughed, carefully stepping around the hole Roman had created. “I’m pretty sure it’s not Patton’s fault you’re so clumsy.”

“No, but he practically forced me to bring you out here.” And just like that Virgil’s good mood was gone, stomach twisting uncomfortably as the words set in.

It shouldn’t be a surprise- of course Roman wouldn’t voluntarily spend the day with him. Patton wanted everyone to get along for Thomas’s sake, and he’d made Roman drag Virgil along like an unwanted nuisance.

“Oh.”

“So if we look miserable enough when we get back, we can coax Pat into making us cookies and hot chocolate,” Roman said, and he didn’t seem to notice Virgil’s shift in mood. “Just try to watch your step, ok?”

Roman clearly didn’t think he had said anything wrong, only scowling at his now soaking wet pant leg before turning to continue forward. He obviously thought Virgil knew this, that he wasn’t stupid enough to think he was actually wanted.

Well, at least Roman was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Even if Virgil apparently was that stupid.

They kept walking, Virgil ending up trailing a bit behind with slightly numb hands stuffed deep into his hoodie pockets. Roman managed to make it even farther ahead, humming some vaguely familiar tune as he watched the snowfall, and Virgil wondered if he should just let the Prince make the rest of the walk by himself, kind of wanting to just lay down and let the snow bury him.

The wind was picking up, and Virgil was clearly finding it more difficult to trek through the snow than Roman was. The Prince didn’t seem inclined to leave him behind though, slowing down and smiling patiently at the anxious side every few moments, letting him catch up on his own time.

He wondered why Roman didn’t just quicken his pace and leave him. It wasn’t like Virgil would go tell Patton just to get him in trouble. As much as it hurt knowing Roman wanted nothing to do with him, that someone had to make Roman spend time with him, it hurt worse to think that the Prince had just been faking it.

He’d thought...God, he’d actually thought they might be getting somewhere. That maybe, maybe Virgil’s feelings for the Prince weren’t as pointless as they’d once been.

The soft little smiles sent his way, the light touches on Virgil’s back or shoulder, the quiet jokes meant just for him, the way Roman’s eyes would linger for just a second…

He noticed it a second too late, caught up in his own head instead of paying careful attention to where he was stepping like he usually would, only pulled from his thoughts by another ear splitting crack as a piece of ice gave way right where he’d stepped down.

It was sudden and loud, and Virgil yelped when he stumbled and fell to the ground, hands losing feeling completely as they grabbed at the snow and his foot disappeared under the ice.

“Fuck- Roman!”

He heard Roman laugh, but it was almost impossible to make out over the howling of the wind and the pounding of his own heart. The water was so cold, (thank god he’d managed to stop himself before it went past his shin) like a million little knives dancing along his skin, paying no mind to what little protection his clothes offered.

“You’re fine,” Roman called, voice small and distant like he’d kept walking. Virgil didn’t dare look up, eyes on the ground beneath his hands. “It’s not deep, Virge, you can stand up.”

Virgil nodded even though he doubted Roman could see it, his voice refusing to cooperate. He squeezed numb hands into shaky fists, took a breath, and pushed himself up to stand on his free leg.

The next moment happened so fast, Virgil didn’t even register that more ice had broken under his weight until he felt himself falling, and suddenly the icy cold water was much higher than just his leg.

It felt like he’d been hit by a bus- a very, very cold bus- and Virgil gasped as all the ice below him gave way, the water rising up to his chest, wrapping around his body like a vice and yanking him forward without warning.

It was like hundreds of frozen hands were grabbing at him and tugging viciously, shoving him along with the water’s surprisingly violent current while trying to drag him down below the dark surface. Virgil barely had half a second to force his arms to move, frantically reaching for the nearest chunk of intact ice.

He couldn’t feel his fingers, and his hands were shaking so bad he almost didn’t make it, but he managed to get a grip on the edge just in time.

He gasped as he pulled himself to a sudden stop against the relentless current, weakening arms protesting the sudden strain, choking and coughing on the frigid water that managed to lap at the corners of his mouth.

“Princey!” he tried to scream, but he could barely hear himself over the roar of the river. The water hurt, the cold seeping into his skin and stealing his breath, and it took all of his quickly fleeting energy to keep holding on. “Roman!”

There was no response, at least not one that Virgil could hear, and he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head to see if help was coming, terrified that if he looked away from his hands he’d forget how to hold on.

He had to strain to keep his head above water, and he felt like there were boulders in his pockets weighing him down. He was left kicking desperately against the water, because it was definitely not shallow enough for him to stand.

Roman had said it was. Roman had laughed and kept walking and he’d...he hadn’t...he hadn’t left, had he? If he’d done this on purpose-

The dread and fear that came with the thought was almost more overwhelming than the thought of drowning, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut as he tightened his hold, because Roman wouldn’t do that. He may not like Virgil, but he wasn’t cruel. He wouldn’t...he wouldn’t do this.

A grim voice in the back of his head told him Roman wouldn’t care, that Virgil would never be worth worrying about. Maybe it wasn’t the wind and rushing water blocking out the Prince’s voice...maybe he’d really just already walked away.

He choked back tears and put all his fading focus into staying above the water, the current’s pull growing stronger as his kicking became weaker and weaker. He couldn’t keep holding on. It was so cold and he was so tired-

“Virgil!”

Roman? It was so hard to tell for sure, everything distant and hazy compared to the roaring in his ears and his own too shallow breaths.

Oh god, he couldn’t hold on, he was slipping, he was going to fall-

“Virgil! Hold on, I’m coming!” Either that was Roman, or Virgil’s brain was being very cruel to him right before he died. The latter honestly seemed more likely. “Hold on, please just- I’m coming just hold on!”

He couldn’t feel his hands, barely able to comprehend anything around the all consuming pain settled around him like a blanket, leaving him shaking and numb, teeth chattering in his skull louder than a gunshot and he couldn’t do this- he couldn’t hold on he couldn’t-

“Virgil!”

Virgil didn’t even register what had happened, left only to wonder why the strain on his arms had suddenly been lessened for a single blissful second before realizing his frozen hands had slipped from the ice.

There wasn’t time to take another breath, the river seizing its opportunity to rise above his head and push him under the dark and freezing water, everything suddenly horribly silent.

#fanfiction #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #thomas sanders #sanders sides #hurt/comfort #this fic is so self indulgent you guys #writing

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zafirosreverie · 4 years

Text

The little bastard in the sink (Agatha x reader)

A/N: this is my first time writing for Agatha, and the first thing i write in months for the blog, so any mistakes you see, let me know. Hope you like it!

You tried to stay calm, you really, really tried to. You didn’t want to scream, it wasn’t that bad. Really, it was not.

“Come on, Y/N, you can make it. You’re brave, you don’t need help, you got this” you whispered for yourself, trying desperately to believe your own words. Taking another deep breath, you nodded and stood, entering your kitchen.

You got this, you got this, you got this.

You approached the sink, ready for the fight, magazine in hand.... Then the fucking spider dared to move and you ran away as fast as you could, actually leaving the house this time. Some of the neighbours looked at you, but didn’t pay much attention to you, as if caring for you running out of your house wasn’t part of their roles.

Okay, maybe you did need help.

But you were alone here. Unlike everyone else, you were new to Westview. You couldn’t even remember how you ended here, but you moved maybe a day or two after Wanda and Vision did. At least that was what you thought. For some reason, you couldn’t remember a lot from your life...well, nothing, really, the only memories you had started from the day you arrived here. The one thing you could actually remember, the only thing you were sure of, was that you hated spiders. Those little shits scared the hell out of you.

And there was one chilling on your sink. You could imagine it smirking at you, feeling your fears. “Little bastard” you whispered and tried to calm yourself again. While standing in front of your house, you kept talking to yourself.

“Ok, Y/N, we need a plan. Problem one, a fucking spider on our kitchen, problem two, we don’t have reinforcement”. Just as you were thinking about that, you looked at the house in front of yours. Maybe your neighbour could help.

You actually had never spoken to her, but you had seen the brunette from the distance. She was beautiful, and seemed friendly and she smiled at you the first (and only) time you went to Dottie’s. You remembered being amazed by her because she was brave enough to contradict Dottie.

“Problem three, maybe she doesn’t even know us” You reminded yourself. Again, you were the new neighbour, even if you felt like that was a lie, as if you had been in that role for a little too much for actually being “the new”. But who cares?

You had two options: go to that house and ask for help, with the possibility that the hot brunette thought you were a loser, or, accepting the spider, live with it and develop a beautiful friendship with it (and then be murdered by it in your sleep).

“Yeah...nope, that one’s not happening. When in doubt, the hot neighbour is always the answer” you said to yourself and walked over the house.

You took a deep breath before you carefully knocked on the door. You almost left, but the image of the little bastard in your kitchen was enough to keep you there. You were surprised when the door opened just a few seconds later. And holy shit, the woman in front of you was beautiful. You were frozen.

“Hello, dear, can i help you?” She asked and you blinked, blushing a little when you noticed that you were staring at her lips.

“Hi” you smiled “I’m Y/N, the new neighbour” you said, reciting your line a little awkwardly, but she didn’t seem to notice it.

“Agnes, nice to meet you” she said, shaking your hand “excuse me for not giving you a proper welcome before, i’ve been busy, hon” she said and you blushed again at the pet name.

“It’s ok” you assured her, almost losing in her baby blue eyes. Focus Y/N! You thought “uhmm, i know this might be awkward, and that we don’t even know each other but..uhm..c-can you help me?” you asked, shyly.

The smile she gave you was enough to make your knees weak. “Of course, sweetheart, what do you need?” she said, stepping closer to you and making your cheeks a darker shade of red.

You mumbled something, suddenly feeling like living with the spider wasn’t that bad of an idea after all.

Agatha smirked in her mind, she always found cute how you were so nervous around her. No, this wasn’t the first time you had come to her for help, you just couldn’t remember because every once in a while, Wanda’s power erased your memories, keeping you in the role of the new neighbour.

“what was that, dear?” she asked and you sighed.

“I said...can you please help me and kill the giant spider in my kitchen? I will give you food, I promise” you said, a little desperate.

Agnes smiled and chuckled “Of course, hon!” she said and closed her door behind herself, walking with you to your house.

The spider wasn’t that big, but you were obviously afraid of it and she smiled at the image of you handing her the magazine you tried to use against the spider before. She let you lead her to the kitchen, pointing at the spider on the sink. She then smiled when you quickly hid behind her. You were so cute.

“Be careful” you said, following her, looking over her shoulder at the little bastard.

“Don’t worry, hon, I’ll protect you from the monster” She answered and giggled. If you weren’t so tense for being in the same room as the spider, you would have blushed.

She felt you hid your face on her back when she approached the spider. Taking it as her opportunity, she used her magic to make it disappear. “It’s ok now, love, it’s gone” she said and you peered over her shoulder. There was no signal of the little bastard.

You sighed in relief “thank you so much” you said and finally let her go.

“You’re welcome, dear” she said and smiled at you, enjoying the way your cheeks were still red and how you evaded her gaze. She gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and walked to your fridge “now, i was promised food“ she joked and smirked when you quickly moved to make her something as a pay for the help, still a little shocked for the kiss.

Yes, Agatha still had her agenda with Wanda, but she had to admit she loved this little routine. You would find a spider in your kitchen and sooner or later would come to her for help, thinking you didn’t know each other. She’d help, you’d cook for her and by the night, you would fall asleep on her shoulder while watching an old movie. Then, for the next few days, you’d spend the time trying to deny your crush on her, and by the end of the week, she’d get to kiss those beautiful lips of yours.

Sometimes, she wished you were free from Wanda’s powers, that you remembered her for more than a week. But she couldn’t risk her plan, besides, you’ll probably hate her when you wake up. The thought broke her heart, but she’ll enjoy this little lie for as long as it lasts. No matter how many times she’d have made a spider appear on that sink.

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #marvel #mcu #wandavision #wandavision imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x y/n #agatha harkness x you #agnes x reader #agnes imagine

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qitwrites · 3 years

Text

traditions

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Itadori Yuuji/Fushiguro Megumi

A/N: I caught up with the manga, and shit’s pretty fucked, so I decided to amend that with fluff.

[AO3 Link]

Fushiguro - according to Kugisaki - is the textbook definition of a homosexual disaster.

No see, here’s the thing- everything was going fine. Great. No problems at all. Fushiguro respects his seniors, tolerates Gojo, and has the biggest soft spot for Inumaki, but he’s never been attracted to any one in his usual circle. So, school and sorcery and life in general was simple. No distractions, no crushes as such, no complications. All good.

And then Itadori Yuuji barges into his life and upends the fuck out of it by eating a special grade cursed object to save him. Then he joins Jujutsu Tech, and now they work and train and study and live alongside one another.

The thing is, Itadori is cute as fuck. 10/10 would tap that, any day of any week.

It’s not that Fushiguro has a type or anything, but Itadori just ticks all his boxes. When Todo had bullheadedly asked him what kind of person he likes, he’d said anyone with a strong moral compass that doesn’t waver in their resolve.

That’s Itadori in a nutshell.

Also, doesn’t hurt that he’s like, stupidly hot either. His raw physical prowess is reflected on his body in the form of shapely muscles, hard abs, and wide forearms that look like they could pick Fushiguro up and just throw him like a javelin. They actually can- Itadori had to do it for a mission this one time. Fushiguro enjoyed it immensely, and he will take this information with him to his grave.

So, not only is Itadori attractive and strong and of good character, but he’s also hella friendly. Fushiguro knows he’s not the easiest person to befriend- it takes a while for him to warm up to people, to share things about himself, to talk about the shitshow that is his family, but Itadori does not seem to give a single, flying fuck. He walks into Fushiguro’s life with the strength and ease of someone that just believes they belong. And Fushiguro lets him, because he is, as Kugisaki very accurately put it, a complete and utter homosexual disaster.

But it’s fine. Crushes happen all the time, and Fushiguro knows it’s hopeless and that’s ok. He knows Itadori likes him and cherishes their friendship, and that is enough. It will be. He’ll move on, and they’ll laugh about it in a few years (if they survive) and it’ll be great. In the meantime, he’s going to hole up in his room and read non-fiction books and stay away from pink hair and large toothy smiles.

Of course, the first person to fuck up his plans is Itadori.

It’s Saturday night, and dinner had been a simple meal of rice, miso soup and some sides made by Itadori. He’s a really good cook, and the home food is such a welcome change from the bento boxes Fushiguro normally picks up from the convenience store. Sometimes, Itadori will drag Fushiguro into the kitchen to teach him a thing or two, and Fushiguro learns, and pines, and smacks Itadori when he says something especially idiotic. It’s routine. It’s nice.

Dinner was an hour ago, and now he’s just curled up in bed with his book. It’s shaping up to be a typical weekend, which is nice considering the number of missions they picked up last week. His bones are aching a little, his feet are slightly sore, and he knows he’s going to sleep like the dead tonight.

He hears the knock even though it’s a bit soft. Fushiguro sits up and cocks his head. Was he imagining it?

And then there’s another knock, more confident. Thud thud thud.

Fushiguro climbs out of bed, setting his book aside carefully. He stretches his hands over his head and walks over to the door. ‘Coming.’

He swings it open, and he sees pink hair and his heart just sort of beats out of his chest.

‘Hiya.’ Itadori’s smile is wide, trusting, and full of gusto. He holds a packet of chips in one hand and a laptop in the other.

‘What’s up?’

‘Are you busy?’

He should say he is. If he says he’s busy, then he doesn’t have to let Itadori in and he can continue with Operation: get over Itadori Yuuji. It’s the most logical move.

‘No, why do you ask?’ Well, apparently his brain has detached from his mouth.

‘Well, I overheard you telling Kugisaki that you’ve never seen the Saw movies and I realized something. Something terrible.’

Fushiguro tenses. ‘And what’s that?’

‘I can’t be best friends with someone that’s never seen Saw.’ Itadori pouts cutely, and Fushiguro is this close to just walking off the face of the Earth. He leans into the door frame, needing the additional support.

‘And I don’t want anyone else to be my best friend. So, the only solution is to make you watch Saw! With me! Like, right now.’

Fushiguro feels so much all at once- he wants to pull Itadori into a hug, he wants to jump off his balcony, he wants to slam the door shut and just cry, and he wants to watch stupid movies with this stupid man.

‘If you get crumbs on my bed, I’m going to kick you in the stomach.’

Itadori beams, and Fushiguro is a lost cause.

There’s a bit of adjusting (Fushiguro, your pillows are too hard, let me go grab mine) and a bit of remodelling (What do you mean we can’t make a blanket fort, that’s literally half the movie experience) and after relenting to a weird half-assed tent structure, the two of them huddle on the bed, backs against the wall, laptop placed on a chair by their feet with a bag of chips between them.

Saw is a terrible movie.

There’s gore and screaming and a creepy dude running around and it’s honestly just horrendous. The main character calls himself Jigsaw, and Fushiguro is tempted to flip the laptop after the hundredth blood spill. He looks over at Itadori who’s completely engrossed, eyes reflecting the colours and flashes of light on the screen. It’s cute, the concentration he’s pouring into it. His hand is stuck in the bag of chips and Fushiguro smacks it away to grab a few of his own.

Fushiguro does his best to watch and gets into it at least a little. It’s bad, but it’s not the worst way to spend a weekend night. He admits that a huge reason why the experience is kinda fun is that he’s doing something with Itadori that isn't life-threatening, which is a refreshing change.

The end credits start rolling and Itadori stretches his arms, fingers pushing through the droopy tent roof.

‘What did you think?’

‘I’ve seen worse.’

Itadori laughs. ‘I know what you mean. It grows on you though.’

‘There’s more?’

Itadori looks at him, blinks, cocks his head. ‘You didn’t know?’

Fushiguro shrugs. ‘I’ve never been a movie buff, so I have no information on this.’

‘Fushiguro.’

‘What?’

‘There’s 9 movies.’

Fushiguro’s mouth drops. ‘What?’

‘Yup, there’s nine in total, and the tenth one is in the making.’

‘Holy shit, that’s a lot of movies in one franchise.’

‘Yup. And we’re watching all of them.’

Fushiguro’s eyes widen. ‘What? No way. Nope. Not a chance. I can’t handle more of this, it was barely tolerable.’

‘It doesn’t matter! It’s the principle of the thing- you’ve started the series so you might as well see it through.’

‘9 movies? How can they possibly have enough content for that?’

‘It’s what they do. I promise it gets better and worse.’

Fushiguro sighs. ‘I’m not getting out of this, am I?’

Itadori pushes into his shoulder playfully. ‘Nope. I’m getting more snacks next time, let’s do two movies.’

Fushiguro sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

He’s really struggling to pretend like he’s upset with this development. He’s not upset. He’s honestly anything but.

---

Itadori comes back next Saturday with some blankets and a pillow tucked under one arm and a laptop in the other. He has a grocery bag with chips and sour patch kids hanging between his teeth and he still manages to smile. Fushiguro is so done.

‘Are you a dog?’ he grumbles, plucking the bag out of his face and setting it by the bed. Itadori gets to work immediately, setting up the pillows and his sad excuse for a blanket fort while Fushiguro brings a bowl for the chips and candy. Once they’ve settled in, Itadori starts the second movie and Fushiguro resigns himself to his fate.

It’s really not that bad.

The movie is whatever, Fushiguro tunes in and out, alternating between watching the screen and sneaking looks at Itadori. He’s as engrossed as ever, and the tip of his tongue is sticking out in concentration and it’s so cute it makes Fushiguro want to curl up in his lap and squish him.

He’s crushing hard. Like, really hard. It’s about the gayest thing he’s ever experienced.

The movie pushes on, and they start to get more comfortable. Itadori isn’t a talker, which is surprising and nice, but when the movie lulls, he does make a joke or two. They sink lower into the bed, and by the end of the movie, they’re firmly pressed into each other from shoulder to thigh, with the bowl of chips on Fushiguro’s lap and the candy in Itadori’s.

Itadori is really warm. Could be his natural body heat, could be the king of curses residing within him, could be Fushiguro’s imagination- who’s to say at this point?

When the credits roll, Itadori stretches again like a cat in the sun, groaning his satisfaction. Fushiguro rubs his temples and wills away his blush.

‘What did you think?’

‘Not terrible, but honestly, what the fuck?’

‘That pretty much sums up the franchise.’

Itadori loads up the next movie while Fushiguro stays in position, comfortable. When he’s done, he leans back and makes himself comfortable against Fushiguro’s side, head leaning against his shoulder, his cheek pressed against bone. He looks smooshed, and it’s ridiculous.

If he gave a single shit about the movie, he’d ask him to move because he’s so far gone now there’s no way he’d pay attention at all.

Fushiguro doesn’t say a word, just sends up a silent prayer that Itadori remains there, pushed into him and all up in his space, for the rest of the evening.

That’s exactly what he does.

---

Fushiguro’s feet are burning.

The soles are achy all over, tender and jolty. Any time he walks, he suppresses a hiss of pain. When he’d taken a look, the entire sole was an angry red, and he’s just so annoyed.

The week had been tough- tons of running around and multiple search and rescue missions and this one tenacious curse that he and Itadori had to chase for several miles before finally exorcising it. By the end of it all, his feet were burning like a low fire in the pits of hell.

Itadori is fine, as always. It’s probably an incredible combination of his own inherent athleticism and lord dipshit within him, but Itadori heals at an accelerated pace, and like, he came back from the dead. Sore feet would be nothing to this guy.

When Itadori knocks on the door as always, an hour after Saturday night dinner, Fushiguro just calls out, ‘Come in.’ He really doesn’t want to walk to the door, so he’d left it open intentionally.

Itadori struggles to open the door on his own, arms filled with so much stuff it’s overflowing everywhere, and that horribly lovely smile is still stretched across his face and Fushiguro is just so smitten it’s ridiculous.

Itadori throws a few pillows in his direction, places a frankly ridiculous amount of snacks at the foot of the bed, and starts building his fort. Fushiguro is yet to help him with this, to actually put in any effort and make it with him rather than just watch him with a bemused smirk, but part of him knows that if he joins in, he’s admitting to something. He’s admitting that he’s invested. That he likes this as much as Itadori, probably so much more. That he likes Itadori so much, it’s all-consuming.

Itadori gives him the laptop while he makes some finishing touches on the fort, and he’s gotten better over the last few weeks. The tent is less saggy, with more room to move around and its range is expanding. It no longer covers just the bed, it extends to his desk and is inching towards his closet. Itadori is taking over his room, his heart, his brain, his life. He keeps taking and taking and taking, and Fushiguro just gives him more, happily, heartbreakingly, with all the love and nonchalance and patience he can muster.

He’s so whipped he’s giving Kugisaki a headache. She’s told him as much, repeatedly.

He’s got the final Saw movie prepped and ready to go, positioning the laptop on the chair as usual. Itadori grabs the bowls and decants their snacks before sitting next to Fushiguro, his head automatically resting on the man’s shoulders. Fushiguro rests his head on Itadori’s soft pink hair, breathing in the scent of the shampoo Itadori always steals from Kugisaki, and muffles a laugh. It’s so silly.

They’re about mid-way through the movie (by movie 9 there’s no milking the plot, it’s them just beating a dead horse ruthlessly) when Fushiguro shifts his legs and his feet bump into the chair, and he bites out a yelp of pain. Itadori sits up immediately, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

‘You ok?’

Fushiguro waves him down, wincing. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.’

‘Did you stub your toe? That’s one of the worst feelings ever. And I’ve had my heart ripped out of my chest. And lost an arm. And I’ve been stabbed repeatedly. Amongst other things.’

‘I didn’t stub my toe. And also, what the fuck, are you ok?’

‘I’m fine,’ Itadori laughs easily. ‘Seriously, what’s wrong?’

‘My feet hurt,’ Fushiguro admits with a defeated sigh. ‘We’ve been moving about a lot, and after that pineapple fucker two days ago, my feet have just gotten really sore. I soaked them in hot water a few hours ago, I think I should be fine by Monday.’

Itadori eyes him suspiciously.

‘I’m not lying dumbass. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. Let’s just get this horrible movie over with.’

Itadori hums, turning back to the screen. A minute later, he looks over at Fushiguro.

‘Well, I’m going to apologize for this in advance.’

‘Apologize for wh- HEY!’

Itadori, with his stupidly inhumane strength, yanks Fushiguro’s legs off the edge of the bed and right into his lap. Fushiguro is now laying down with his head resting against the headboard, and he’s about to kick out when Itadori just digs his thumbs into the arch of his feet and Fushiguro narrowly stops himself from moaning obscenely.

He has died and ascended. His soul is no longer in this realm of existence. It has found peace. The meaning of life. Attained nirvana. He can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s seriously that good.

Because Itadori is strong. He’s really strong, so his movements are sure and deep. His thumbs are pushing against the arch, into the heel of his foot, pushing into that junction where his toes meld into the sole, and it’s so damn good. Fushiguro squirms.

‘How are you- ah shit, right there -how are you so good at this?’

Itadori throws him an easy smile. ‘Used to massage grandpa’s feet all the time. Became an expert over time, especially because I had a lot of his nurses guiding me as well. Is it ok?’

Fushiguro tries to throw him a deadpan look but then Itadori’s thumbs just push into a particularly sore spot and Fushiguro’s eyes roll back into his skull. When he’s able to pull himself together, he looks at the pink-haired man, feeling breathless.

‘It feels great. If you tell a single soul, I will drop kick you.’

Itadori’s laugh is loud and boisterous, and it fills the room completely, saturates it with this feeling of ease and honesty.

‘This stays here, no worries. Like a Las Vegas thing.’

Fushiguro smiles at the stupid reference.

After a few minutes pass by, Fushiguro reluctantly starts pulling his feet away. ‘You’ve done more than enough,’ he starts to say. Itadori wraps his fingers around his ankles, holding him in place.

‘I can honestly do this for hours, it’s fine. You can see the screen, right?’ Fushiguro nods immediately. ‘So, let’s just keep watching. I’ll stop if I’m tired, ok?’

Fushiguro relents without a fight because it’s the most relief he’d gotten in ages, and Itadori is touching him and he’s weak in every possible way and he lets himself be. Just this once.

They finish the movie (thank goodness it’s over) and Itadori continues to massage his feet as they discuss what the 10th movie could possibly be like. They discuss theories and plot holes, and Itadori doesn’t let go, his hands inching up and massaging his calves as well, and fuck if Fushiguro’s going to stop him because it feels good. He’s gay and Itadori is hot and his fingers are actual magic- like, they put sorcery to shame.

When it’s well past midnight and Itadori yawns a few times, Fushiguro finally sits up, pulling his feet out of Itadori’s grasp. The pink-haired man lets his hands linger for as long as possible, and Fushiguro decides he’s just imagining it. Surely.

‘I kinda, I mean, I want to repay you for that. You massaged me for hours, you know.’

Itadori pretends to think for a second before breaking into a bright, 100-megawatt smile.

‘Well then, let’s watch more movies! Let’s just make this movie night! We can watch stuff you look up as well, we can watch anything.’

Fushiguro stares at him, stunned. He hadn’t been expecting that and truth be told, he was really sad the Saw franchise was over because he assumed that would be the end of this, and he was too shy to ask what Itadori was so easily asking him. To see Itadori so excited at the prospect of an actual movie night, with no end in sight, made his heart leap and throb and squeeze. It was incredible.

‘Deal.’ He keeps his voice level and his face neutral, but he can’t hide his eyes and Itadori reads him in a second and his smile softens. He knows him so well now, like the back of his hand.

Itadori bids him a soft goodnight, collecting his stuff and shuffling back to his room slowly. Fushiguro falls asleep quickly, and it's deep and dreamless.

He wakes up to painless feet. It’s a miracle in every single way.

---

When Itadori gently pulls his feet into his lap the next weekend, Fushiguro doesn’t bother protesting it. He just gives him a slightly exasperated sigh, a soft smile and hits play.

They’ve decided to pick up the How to train your dragon franchise this time, as a welcome change of pace.

‘What’s it about?’

‘Well, it’s honestly all in the title. It’s about dragons and Vikings and it’s funny and it has great music!’ Itadori lights up while talking about it, and his energy is so damn contagious. Fushiguro feels himself getting hyped. ‘I think you’ll like it. Especially since you have those cool Shikigamis, you might relate to this more!’

Fushiguro hums, and they watch. Fushiguro routinely pushes pieces of chips and sour candy into Itadori’s mouth, and Itadori’s fingers become well-acquainted with the planes and bumps and grooves of his feet, and the shape of his calves.

Fushiguro gets really into the movie.

Not only is the animation top-notch, but the voice actors are great, the storyline is gripping, and Toothless is so childish and sweet and endearing, his heart aches with love. He barely pays attention to Itadori this time. He seems just as invested, even if it’s the hundredth time he’s rewatching it.

To Fushiguro’s surprise, he chokes up at the end, after the big battle. The whole scene feels strangely familiar in some ways, and he tries desperately to hide his growing discomfort. He peaks over at Itadori and his eyes widen.

Itadori is swallowing hard, his eyes shining and glistening with unshed tears. His grip on Fushiguro is tight as hell, but not painful. He’s barely holding on, it seems.

So Fushiguro looks away, and lets himself feel. He doesn’t cry, but it’s damn near the same feeling.

Itadori’s knowing smirk is as annoying as it is stupidly kissable.

‘You seemed to enjoy that!’

‘It was decent. Much better than all the Saw movies combined.’

Itadori barks out a laugh. ‘Decent, he says. I saw you nearly crying through my own tears. And you were glued to the screen. Such a liar.’

Fushiguro relents. ‘Fine, it was really good. I’m hooked, and I cant wait to see the other 2 movies.’

‘You know I’ll be here.’

Fushiguro is helpless against his blush. He barely hides it in the crook of his elbow. Itadori’s fingers are still pressing into his feet and it’s all so much but not enough. His heart still aches.

‘And the next two movies are visual masterpieces. Can’t wait to get into it all!’

Fushiguro nods, and with the promise of next week, he sleeps just a little easier.

---

When Itadori pulls his feet into his lap three weeks in a row, Fushiguro decides it’s time he does more to repay the pink-haired man. It’s definitely not enough to just grace Itadori with his presence and with a weekly movie night.

So, when they come together to watch the third and final How to train your dragon movie, Fushiguro stands in his room, chewing his lower lip anxiously. He feels like he may have gone overboard, and he’s more scared of being found out by Itadori, about his feelings and his hopelessly ginormous crush and just how big of a complete and utter disaster he is than anything else.

Before he can take it down though, Itadori walks in after a quick knock and a shout of Pardon the intrusion but not reaaallllyyyy.

He walks in, snack bag in his mouth, arms holding way too much stuff, and gives Fushiguro a grin before turning to the bed to start his usual set-up routine. That’s when he stops dead on his feet, and Fushiguro at least enjoys the look of complete and utter shock on his face. The snack bag drops to the ground before Fushiguro can catch it with a loud thunk.

So, here’s a fun fact about Fushiguro- he can build insane blanket forts. No, really, you don’t understand, he could be mistaken for an architect because that’s how good he is. And the reason is a bit long and a bit complicated, but it mostly has to do with his sister. When they were left all alone in the world, sharing a small space just between the two of them, they would build blanket forts with all the stuff lying around the house, and within those sheets, they were shielded from the world and all its horrors. They did it for a long time, and it was their tradition. They got better at it over the years, learning what sheets worked best, what make-shift supports held things up at the right height, where to place the pillows.

The minute Fushiguro started to put the fort together, his muscle memory kicked in and took it from there. It brought forth some memories that made him choke up, but he focused on Itadori, and it helped. He adjusted the height to accommodate two growing boys instead of two tiny humans, and before he knew it, the fort had sprawled to encompass his entire room. He borrowed pillows from Inumaki and Panda, who were willing albeit slightly perplexed, and he grabbed Kugisaki’s fairy lights to really spruce things up. The weather had gotten colder, so he had also laid out his thick duvet for them to slip under, and the icing on the cake was the pizza he had ordered. Itadori always bought the snacks, so he wanted to pull his own weight. Also, they were active jujutsu sorcerers- they may have eaten dinner an hour ago, but they were always hungry. It was endless.

Itadori remains rooted in place, and Fushiguro starts to get nervous. A bit anxious. A bit scared. What if it is too much? Had he overstepped in some way? Or what if Itadori looked forward to building the fort and Fushiguro had taken that away from him?

Itadori slowly looks at him, eyes piercing and unreadable and bright.

And then he smiles. The world rights itself a little.

And he smiles big, huge, all-encompassing. Its lips stretched over white teeth and his eyes are crinkling in that really lovely way and the dimples are dotting his cheeks and its utter magic.

‘Fushi,’ Itadori gushes, almost breathless. ‘This is insane. How the hell did you do this?’

Fushiguro bites his lip. ‘You like it?’

‘Like? Fushi, dude, my man, my guy, like doesn’t begin to cover it! I don’t have better words cause I’m kind of an idiot, but it’s. Like. A+. 11/10. I’m so impressed right now.’

And now Fushiguro is smiling with him, stomach flopping around endlessly, and he’s young and in love and he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

‘I also got pizza,’ Fushiguro gestures to the table behind him, picking the snack bag off the floor and placing it by the bed. ‘I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just got the same thing you ordered when I was sick.’

Itadori happily bounds over to the box and leans in for a sniff.

‘I love this stuff, it’s yum. And it’s still steaming, all fresh and hot.’ Itadori gives him a big thumbs-up. ‘This is so bomb Fushi, thank you so much!’

Fushiguro almost says No thank you, you’ve been doing so much for our movie nights and I wanted to show you how grateful I am for you and for all of this and I love you so please take my heart and just keep it, I really don’t need it, you know?

What he says instead is, ‘Not a problem. Shall we set up?’

And so, 10 minutes later finds them curled up in their usual spots, except this time they’re under the covers. Fushiguro places all the food between them, and Itadori alternates between massaging his feet (which he cleans meticulously before their movie nights because he doesn’t want Itadori to eat with dirty feet hands) and taking bites of pizza and smiling and laughing and choking up at the movie.

The trilogy ends and Fushiguro can honestly see why Itadori has watched this countless times. It’s just that good.

If Itadori hears him sniffle, he doesn’t say a word. Just squeezes his calf and runs his fingers from his knees to his ankles and Fushiguro realizes, in that moment, that a part of him will always belong to this man.

---

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. They’ve now finished the Saw franchise, the HTTYD trilogy, the Batman trilogy, and the entire Annabelle series. If Fushiguro didn’t hate dolls before, well, now the thought of them sends shivers up his spine. And he fights curses. For a living.

Life is weird.

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. Sometimes it’s Sunday night instead, or Friday. Sometimes it’s earlier in the day, in the afternoon maybe. Sometimes, it’s really late at night, so late that by the time they’re done, it’s already 3am and the world is silent. The world doesn’t exist beyond the walls of Fushiguro’s room, and he’s ok with that.

On those nights, Itadori stays over.

They curl up on his bed together, not quite touching but not quite not touching. It’s a single bed and they’re not small by any means. The touching is inevitable. Fushiguro wonders if any part of it is voluntary.

He learns that Itadori’s toes are always warm, unlike Fushiguro’s. He’s a surprisingly calm sleeper. His sleep-heavy voice is deep, and his sleep-heavy smile is soft.

They fall asleep facing away from one another, they wake up spooning or being spooned. They don’t say a word. And they don’t stop.

The night that they finish the latest Annabelle movie, Itadori looks insanely freaked out and Fushiguro doesn’t blame him. That shit’s creepy as hell.

The problem is that it’s only 00:14. Too early for them to call for a sleepover unprompted.

Itadori’s got Fushiguro’s legs in his lap, and he’s pursing his lips as if deep in thought. Fushiguro thinks fuck it.

‘Do you want to stay over?’

The relief flows off Itadori in waves. ‘You’re an actual lifesaver, you know that right?’

Fushiguro smirks, and they throw snarky comments back and forth between them as they get ready for bed. Itadori brings his toothbrush and they clean up side by side, fighting for the mirror. They take the fort down methodically, like a well-oiled machine, and they curl up under the duvet, touching but not quite touching, facing away from one another.

15 minutes later, Fushiguro feels Itadori curled around him, legs tangled and arm carefully slipped over his middle. He feels him shake, and he can taste the hesitation and he knows Itadori will move away soon because they both know they’re both awake.

He moves his hand lower and places it over Itadori’s. He squeezes it once, and moves it away, and evens out his breathing. He feels himself drifting off, and the last thing he feels is Itadori’s arm curling around him just a little tighter, holding him just a little closer. The air tastes less hesitant, more hopeful.

It’s wonderfully frightening.

---

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. Until one day, they do.

The thing about Sukuna is that he’s the King of Curses, Lord Asshat extraordinaire, and an overall terrible being. Not only does he reside in Itadori rent-free, he also chooses when to heal him and when to watch from the sidelines as blood gushes out of wounds that are near-fatal. Itadori’s pain tolerance is impossibly high, but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel pain.

Itadori feels everything. He feels so much, so willingly, so wholeheartedly. He’s a feeler.

And so, when one of their missions go haywire (as always), Itadori risks his life for his classmates (as always), and is left on the verge of death (as always). The only difference being he doesn’t improve. At least not at that inhumane pace that he always does.

He’s not dead, but he’s not in the world of the living either. He’s drifting somewhere in between, and Fushiguro feels like he’s drowning. He can’t get enough air; he can’t see beyond the murky waters that are darker than ink.

Fushiguro is in the in-house hospital on campus and he rarely, if ever, leaves Itadori’s side. The incident took place on a Tuesday and it is now Saturday. Itadori’s vitals are stable, his heart is in his chest, beating, and his blood is circulating and oxygenating him.

He does not wake up, he does not speak, and he does not smile.

Something in Fushiguro’s chest cracks.

People come by to visit all the time. Nobara brings snacks and chats with Itadori like he’s ok, like he’ll respond. Only Fushiguro hears the tremor in her voice. Maki holds back from smacking someone in a coma, vowing to get him good when he’s awake for doing something so monumentally dumb. Gojo flits in and out as often as he can, and he always squeezes Fushiguro’s shoulder with a tightness that eases his chest just a little before leaving again.

After dinner on Saturday, Fushiguro decides to do something.

He lets himself into Itadori’s room- messy but not sloppy, and simple. He finds his laptop on his desk and charges it for a bit before taking it back with him. He doesn’t set up a blanket fort, simple loads up a Christopher Nolan movie that they’d decided on last week and lets it play.

He holds Itadori’s hand the entire time. It doesn’t squeeze back.

The crack in his chest widens.

---

He’s not there when Itadori wakes up.

Gojo had pushed him out of the room to go take a shower and grab a proper meal and maybe even take a nap, and Fushiguro had relented to two of the three- showering and eating. With a belly full of terrible convenience store food that could never hope to hold a candle to Itadori’s meals, Fushiguro slowly makes his way back to the infirmary when he hears voices. One voice, in particular, stops him in his tracks.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘My mouth tastes like ass.’

It’s one of the first things Itadori has said in a week and a half, and something between a laugh and a sob gets stuck in Fushiguro’s chest. He moves to yank the door open and throw himself at Itadori when he hears-

‘Where’s Fushi?’

‘Oh, he went to take a shower, clean up a little, all that.’

‘Ah. I see.’

Fuck, he sounds disappointed.

‘Don’t look so upset.’ Gojo teases. ‘He hasn’t left your side since you got hurt, you know?’

‘Really?’

Gojo hums. ‘He’s here all day. He tried working for a day or two, but his head wasn’t in it, so we forced him to sit out for a bit. He’s just been keeping you company here, reading, fretting, pining.’

Fushiguro wants to punch Gojo.

Itadori barks out a laugh. It sounds loud and forced and not very happy.

‘Don’t tease me about that sensei. That’s cruel, even for you.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know what I’m talking about.’

‘I want to be sure. I’m not a mind-reader you know. So tell me,’ Gojo urges, ‘what are you talking about?’

Itadori sighs. It sounds exhausted more than pained. ‘I’ve liked him since the day we fought the curse and saved my senpais. It’s cruel for you to tease me about a one-sided crush.’

Fushiguro is suddenly numb, hot and cold everywhere, and his head is spinning, an echo of ‘I’ve liked him I’ve liked him’ just bouncing around his brain endlessly. He has to force himself to concentrate or risk missing out more of the conversation.

‘I mean, why do you think it’s one-sided?’

‘Are you kidding me? He’s so out of my league, I can’t even think about it. He’s so. Just. Everything good in this world. And he likes dogs sensei, what more could I want in a person?’

Fushiguro’s vision is just swimming and he wants to smother Itadori in a hug and protect him forever. His feet are taking longer to respond to his brain though.

‘I don’t think that’s true,’ Gojo sings, laughing. ‘My advice would be to not give up. You’d be good for each other, you know? Also, he’s really not all that perfect. Trust me, I’ve known him since he was a child. This one time, during the spring festival, he-‘

‘Itadori, you’re awake?’

Evidently, his self-preservation instincts had bypassed his brain and forced his legs to move at near inhumane speed. God bless instincts.

Itadori is sitting up, and he looks a bit frail but the color in his cheeks is steadily returning. His eyes widen in surprise before his mouth twists up in a grin so wide Fushiguro is worried he’ll break his face. His eyes are molten, watery, and brighter than the sun.

‘Hi Fushi.’

For once, Fushiguro doesn’t give a two shit flying fuck that Gojo is in the room and will hence tease him for the rest of his life, he just walks over to the bed and gathers Itadori into a hug and holds him there, pressing his warmth into Itadori. There’s the beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, and the smile on his lips pressed into Fushiguro’s shoulder.

The world rights itself on its axis, just a little more.

‘Idiot.’

Itadori’s muffled laugh makes him grin, and he pulls away. He rearranges his face in a scowl.

‘I told you before if you die on me-‘

‘-you’ll kill me yourself. I know, I know. I’m here Fushi, you don’t have to become a murderer. It’s a good day.’

Fushiguro lets his face morph back into a grin before looking over at Gojo. His teacher’s smirk tells him everything- how he knew where Fushiguro was, how he’s seen right through Fushiguro, how he’s going to tease him till the day either of them die. And Fushiguro wants to be annoyed and pissed off but he can’t bring himself to care, not right now.

Itadori’s heart is beating in his chest, and he smiles at Fushiguro, and his cheeks are tinting pink.

Fushiguro’s heart is full.

---

‘Sorry I missed movie night.’

Itadori’s apology is so stupid Fushiguro nearly gwaffs, but that’s undignified as fuck so he settles for a cough and a withering stare.

‘I mean, it’s not like you were in a coma or anything.’

‘You know what I mean! But anyway, I’m here now, so let’s pick up where we left off.’

‘No, we’ll have to move on to the next movie. We watched that one last week.’

‘Huh?’

Fushiguro looks at him, prays he isn’t seven shades of red. ‘Well, I thought maybe if we had a movie night at the infirmary, you’d feel better. Where you were. Especially if you were dealing with lord fuckwad. You know?’

Itadori stares at him in awe and chuckles softly. ‘You’re something else, you know? Just when I think I’ve got you all figured out.’

Gojo’s word reverberate around his skull and Fushiguro just clears his throat. ‘Yeah, well, I’m all about surprising people. Woohoo.’

Itadori bursts out laughing, and they go back to setting up the fort, the pizza, the snacks, the lights, the laptop. It’s easy and familiar and nice. They settle into the mattress, but Fushiguro doesn’t let Itadori take his feet this time, opting to press into his side instead. Itadori barely puts up a fight.

They’re roughly 8 minutes into Interstellar when Itadori asks, ‘How did you set up the movie in the infirmary?’

Fushiguro hums, ‘I grabbed your laptop and put it on a chair to your left. I sat on the right. I sat by your bed and I…’

‘And you?’

Fushiguro should be nervous but he’s not. He’s surprised by how not nervous he is.

‘And I did this.’ He laces their hands together, eyes trained on Itadori's.

It’s like looking at a bowl of liquid amber. His eyes are light brown, bordering on gold, and they’re mesmerizing when you’re this close. He doesn’t look away from Fushiguro, his breath doesn’t stutter, he doesn’t jerk away. He squeezes Fushiguro’s hand with his right one and slowly brings up the left. He rests it on Fushiguro’s jaw, soft skin meeting calloused fingers and there’s a heat building under Fushiguro’s skin that makes him feel that same hot and cold sensation everywhere.

‘I’m going to kiss you.’

Itadori’s voice is deeper than Fushiguro’s ever heard it, low and spicy and sure. His hands are gentle and confident.

Fushiguro doesn’t nod or say Yes or blush.

He just brings his right arm up, wraps it around Itadori’s left wrist and leans in, bringing them together in what is possibly the softest touch of lips ever, in the history of the universe.

It’s not hesitant, it’s just new. And all-encompassing. And maddeningly good. And soft.

Itadori’s breath hitches and he leans his head, slotting their lips together better and Fushiguro is humming because fucking hell is this good. There’s no tongue, just pressure and nips and small licks and bites. By the end of it, Fushiguro is smiling into Itadori’s smile, and he’s kissing it and nuzzling it and he’s drowning in the best way possible.

Itadori finally pulls away, after several small kisses, and does that beaming smile that makes Fushiguro’s stomach do really terrible things.

‘I can’t believe all this happened because of Saw.’

Fushiguro’s smile shrivels away in a heartbeat and Itadori is laughing and snorting, the bastard.

‘Itadori Yuji.’

More laughter.

‘I swear on all that is good and pure, if you tell people we got together because of Saw, I will dump your ass so hard you won't be able to sit down for weeks.’

Itadori laughs some more and presses his giggles against Fushiguro’s lips and dammit he’s so weak and gay.

Itadori’s hand slips down his jaw and cups the back of his neck and he pulls him close, pressing their foreheads together.

‘We both know that’s not true.’

Damn it. He really does know Fushiguro like the back of his hand.

And so he does the only thing he can think of- he kisses him again. And again. And then some more, just because he can.

The movie remains forgotten, and frankly, they couldn’t care less.

#jujutsu kaisen #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #itafushi #itadori x fushiguro #jjk fic #fluff #so much fluff #and movie nights #pining #this is just fushiguro pining #itadori is a good friend #the goodest #jjk #hi hello i hope you all like this #and i hope everyone's doing ok and staying safe!!#much love to you all

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years

Photo

Hex Life

Fandom: WandaVision Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Jimmy Woo Rating: E Chapters: 10/10 Word Count: 34k

Summary: Guest starring Agent James E. Woo as himself and introducing Dr. Darcy Lewis as Mrs. Darcy Woo!

Or: Darcy and Jimmy are sent into the Hex to retrieve Captain Monica Rambeau. Finding out Westview has cast them as a married couple is only the first of the surprises that await them.

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten

this fic is now complete!

Jimmy’s going to be a dad. He was going to be a dad in a black-and-white sitcom world and now he’s going to be a dad in a world on the regular spectrum, so the colours really aren’t as big a deal as his impending fatherhood. Possible fatherhood. As much as he’s always secretly wanted his own little Jimmy Woo Jr., he didn’t know if it would be in the cards for him—pun obviously intended—and the last thing he wants to do is influence Darcy either way, especially since he’s only known her a couple days and doesn’t have a clue if a baby was really part of her life plan.

It can’t just be rose-coloured glasses making him see his wife warming to the idea though; when she continues down the hall ahead of Jimmy and Monica, he spots her careful cradling of the baby bump. He can barely stand not touching her. The instinct to shelter others has always been one of his strongest and now he feels it intensely. He longs to protect Darcy, to hold Darcy, to love— Well. Jimmy clears his throat at the very thought and Monica gives him a suspicious side-eyed glance.

“Dry throat,” he lies, tapping his neck in a probably highly unconvincing gesture.

“Uh huh.”

Yeah, she doesn’t sound convinced.

He’s rescued by a burst of sound from the bedroom and dashes ahead of Monica in case Darcy’s in trouble. When he bangs the bedroom door fully open, she’s fine. She’s laughing. He sighs and looks where she points. The queen-sized mattress they shared has changed back to a pair of narrower beds.

“Seriously,” Jimmy says flatly.

“Well, the big bed worked its magic,” Darcy concedes. She pats her rounded stomach. “Mission accomplished.”

“Aw jeeze.”

Ignoring his distress, she sits on the end of the closest bed.

“What I like is that they’re magically made. I didn’t end up having to change the sheets. This is really the next step in home technology.”

“Honey, don’t encourage the magical forces that control our home décor,” he pleads, beckoning until Darcy rises and takes his outstretched hand.

“Better than getting on their bad side. In the AI uprising, you wanna make sure you’re friends with the robots.”

This is an outrageous statement coming from a credible scientist, so Jimmy squints down at her for a minute before saying, “Thanks, house,” aloud, just in case appeasing the Hex now saves him from being closed into a room with no door later, if the walls rearrange to form the ’70s model of their current home.

“You did the smart thing,” Darcy assures him.

As they leave the room, she keeps hold of his hand. He shoots adoring glances at her.

“Hey, Monica,” she says, calling to their guest, who seems to have gone to investigate the walk-in closet. “Accommodations aren’t going to be a problem. I can give you some pajamas too because I think I own at least a dozen pairs, as I’m sure you’ve already discovered…”

But when they look in the closet it’s… not a closet.

“Or maybe the Hex destroyed all my pajamas and I should take back my overtures of friendship,” Darcy corrects.

“Welcome to your nursery,” Monica says. “I’m guessing from the look on Jimmy’s face that this is new.”

It’s spartan, but there’s no doubt in Jimmy’s mind that the room is now intended to be exactly what Monica said. There’s a crib in pieces on the carpet and a rocking chair in the corner. Though he can’t remember this room having even one window, there are now two. The blinds are drawn against the night and curtains patterned with stars and streaking comets hang from a rod mounted above the window. Automatically, he pulls Darcy into his side. He feels her rest her head on his shoulder.

“Man, the Hex is really giving us the hard sell,” she comments.

Just like that, he’s guiding her around by her upper arms and propelling her from the room. He glances over his shoulder to see Monica following with an amused smile. At his nod, she pulls the door shut.

“Ignore it,” Jimmy tells Darcy. “Don’t let that room influence you.”

“Oh, like that’s easy.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know it’s hard not to picture reading Jimmy Junior to sleep in his crib, or watching him learn to roll himself over on the carpet, or cuddling him in your arms in the rocking chair as the morning light—”

“Jimmy Junior?” Darcy asks, interrupting Jimmy’s rapidly solidifying daydream.

“You know what? I’m starving,” Monica announces, putting a hand on each of their shoulders to head off the awkward pause. “How about you two show me some hospitality? I’ve had a long day of being mind-controlled.”

“How ’bout some comfort food?” he asks. “I make a mean bowl of chili.”

“Sounds great.”

So, Jimmy cooks for them. His attention is unequally divided between the simmering pot, Monica leaning against the counter next to him as she recounts the scene at the meeting when Wanda went to take his call, and Darcy sifting pickily through the contents of their fridge. He glances over after putting the lid on the pot to let the chili finish cooking and sees his wife contemplatively holding an egg like it’s Yorick’s skull. Ok, well, he’s just going to leave her to her thoughts.

He sets bowls of chili for himself and Monica on the dining room table. Darcy, justifiably finnicky, takes longer to decide what she’ll be able to stomach, reflexively rubbing the baby bump as she plunders their kitchen. Finally, she comes to sit down. She’s brought a spoon. That’s it. Jimmy’s going to ask, but Darcy just scoots her chair close to his and takes intermittent mouthfuls of his serving while the conversation continues on. He sighs in unannoyed exasperation and alternates dips of his spoon with hers.

It’s just another weird routine they’ve settled into, and like everything else, it didn’t take long.

“You two didn’t know each other before this assignment, right?” Monica checks, motioning between Darcy and Jimmy with a slice of buttered toast.

“No, why?” Darcy asks, dropping a chunk of tomato from her spoon onto his. (Apparently, she doesn’t like tomatoes.)

Monica smiles and says, “No reason.”

She seems ready to accept them as they are, whatever they are. She goes back over the events of this afternoon for Darcy’s benefit—who was zoned out staring at an egg at the time—then the three of them turn to talk of tomorrow. What does Monica feel she needs to try before she’s willing to concede and leave the Hex with them? What can she try? How can Jimmy and Darcy assist her? They talk themselves in a circle of possibilities, limitations, and Monica’s unswerving negative answer to suggestions of her leaving the Hex without getting through to Wanda. Eventually, they decide that the best plan may be no plan, since they’re up against Westview’s ever-shifting magical properties.

“We’ll get up in the morning and see what the world looks like,” Monica says.

Jimmy’s going to reply when the Captain’s expression alters.

“Are you remembering?” Darcy asks her astutely. Monica stares at her. “I don’t want to pry, I’ve just seen that look on a lot of people’s faces lately. People who came back.”

“This isn’t dissimilar,” Monica admits. “When I get anywhere near Wanda or the other characters with speaking parts and start to lose control to… Geraldine—” Jimmy thinks the look on her face is both disgusted and deeply hurt. “—I do get this feeling like the world is going on without me. Only I’m there. I’m right there. I haven’t made up my mind yet if it’s worse than being gone entirely then coming back to find nothing’s the same.”

“Yeah,” Darcy says, soft, sympathetic.

“I don’t know what else the members of this community have been through, but I know I don’t want them to have to keep going through this too. I can’t imagine how tight Wanda’s grip is on the people who were here when she started this. Not sure I’m qualified to be the one to tell her how to let go of her grief and move on.”

Monica blinks quickly and gives a forced smile.

“That was good chili, Jimmy.”

He nods in thanks because he can’t find the right words to say.

They’re all carrying something and Jimmy thinks about that as the three of them clean up, then splinter off to get ready for bed, tired for different and shared reasons. (He changes into his pajamas in the nursery—they found their clothing in a new, regular-sized closet in the bedroom—while Monica and Darcy take the bathrooms.) The Captain’s carrying her recent bereavement and the unignorable sense of responsibility she feels to help Wanda and the Westviewers, possibly precisely because she isn’t ready to confront her own loss. Darcy’s doing some literal carrying with the baby bump her pajama top is buttoned over when she steps out of the en suite bathroom to let Jimmy in to brush his teeth. She’s an astrophysicist who, while studying a television diversion from reality, was brought rudely back to earth by circumstances as real as they come.

What Jimmy’s carrying is actually carrying him: his hope. It’s a good thing to have in his line of work, but a tough thing to keep when the world’s been through what it has. A baby is the least likely and most longed-for thing he would’ve confessed to wanting if someone asked him what was missing from his life.

When it’s acknowledged through awkward glances that, yes, Monica’s taking one of the beds and Jimmy and Darcy will share the other, he climbs under the covers his wife holds open for him. She rolls away from him to lie on her side and he gets comfortable on his back. The Hex has definitely eased up on what it wants for their romantic development because this is the first time he’s been in bed with Darcy and not felt himself caving to the need to have sex with her. Oh, the desire to touch her is as powerful as ever, but the kind of touching he craves is as tender as the flesh of that peach he brought her earlier in the day.

But he doesn’t want to crowd her. Figuratively or literally. Between finding Monica and calling Wanda, making love to Darcy all afternoon and being presented with her pregnant belly in the evening, it’s been a dog’s breakfast of a day. The mission abruptly became just the second most daunting thing he needs to pull off. Now, he’s driven by the impulse to be near Darcy. She doesn’t know it, but she’s drawing him in like gravity and he can only cross his fingers for a soft landing.

Jimmy almost jumps when she reaches for him in the dark, hand feeling behind her until it finds his. She drags his arm over her and he flips onto his side to make it easier. Though Darcy lets him go when his arm’s around her, he doesn’t know where to rest his hand. Tentatively, he places it over her belly and she wriggles back into him. Heart bursting, he holds her more securely to his body, smooths his hand over the bump, and soon falls asleep.

—

The floor wakes him up. He’s just fallen out of bed.

Disoriented, Jimmy sits up in a tangle of comforter and squints at his bed companion in the morning light. They must’ve repositioned while they slept, but that alone wasn’t what forced him to and over the edge—he can see the shape of Darcy’s belly beneath the sheet. It’s noticeably larger than it was yesterday.

He’s still trying to come to terms with that when she sleepily grasps the comforter and yanks it back over her body. Jimmy chuckles and rises into a stretch. Monica’s bed is empty and neatly made, so she must be up already. Before entering the Hex, his internal clock was strict too. Since, he bends to the needs of his subconscious, which seems happiest when it’s allowed to sleep in, particularly if Darcy’s warming the sheets next to him. This is only their third day in Westview and the second time waking up here, but it feels wonderfully routine. As satisfying as completing his consistently-timed morning run or pouring exactly the right amount of milk into his cereal.

Although he’d like to let Darcy sleep, it’s weird now because he’s staring. Anyway, they need to tighten up their operations even further today if they’re going to get out of here soon. Monica requires either success or closure with Wanda, so Jimmy’s determined to help with that. And if Darcy’s pregnancy takes another leap forward, well… that’s another time crunch to consider.

She’s lying on her side, facing him, belly in the space where he fell asleep. Gently, he brushes hair out of her face and strokes lightly up and down her arm.

Darcy gives him a murmured “Hi” with her eyes still shut.

“You gonna get up?”

“Inaminute,” she promises, words running together.

“Alright.”

Jimmy hovers for a second, then darts down to kiss her forehead. She pats his shoulder clumsily in response.

He might as well have had his own eyes shut, blind to everything but Darcy, because it takes opening his wardrobe to realize Monica was correct—everything’s changed again. WandaVision has embraced the ’70s. The shirts and suits he was pretty comfortable with have been traded out. Those items still exist, but now they’re aggressively patterned. There are flared pant legs. There is so much corduroy. Out of the row of shoes tucked into the bottom on his side of the closet, half have platform heels.

“Oh god,” Jimmy groans softly, sifting through for something that won’t feel too much like a cheesy costume.

He ends up with jeans—his only pair of pants without a pattern—and a striped shirt with wide lapels. The Hex’s makeover of his closet has him so beaten down that he doesn’t even pick out a jacket. He doesn’t have the heart for business casual. At the sight of a long-sleeved jumpsuit, Jimmy closes the closet door securely. They have to get out of here. This will be the thing that breaks him.

Slouching into the bathroom, he drops his selections on the counter and takes a shower. As he washes his hair, his fingers slow their scrubbing. Is his hair… longer? He finishes quickly and steps out to find the mirror fogged with steam. He wipes it clean with his forearm, examining his reflection. This place isn’t through with him yet: the Hex has given him a mustache.

Jimmy screams.

“Fine!” Darcy shouts back to his wordless noise of dismay. “I’m up! God, you could’ve just set an alarm and OH MY GOD, HAVE YOU SEEN THE SIZE OF THIS BABY BUMP?!”

He sighs on behalf of himself and his wife, slicks his too-long wet hair back with a comb, then starts in on shaving off the mustache. It immediately grows back.

“Come on,” he complains, cursing the Hex. “Why’d you give me a razor then?!”

Luckily, his annoyance fades the minute he sees Darcy. She’s swearing up a storm about needing to pee and her head looking too small for her body because the Hex has straightened her hair, but he takes all of her restless irritation in with a dazed smile on his face. Adjusting her glasses—now almost circular, with rounded off corners—she catches sight of his new look and erupts into laughter. Whatever the Hex does to mess with their appearance, at least they’re each other’s best medicine to combat it.

“I don’t want to be insensitive,” Monica starts when they walk into the kitchen hand in hand, “but are you significantly more pregnant than you were yesterday?”

Jimmy watches Darcy nod and slips away from her to throw some more bread in the toaster from the bag Monica’s left out on the counter for them.

“You’d think it’s just this big, shapeless dress,” Darcy says, “but no.” She pulls the fabric taut over her stomach to show the size of her belly more accurately. “I don’t want to say it, but the size of this thing makes me think the Hex is leaving me room to grow.”

“And if that dress is only for today…” Monica says.

“Jeepers,” Jimmy concludes.

They eat together in their reconfigured living room. It’s not until Monica’s kicked back in one of their low chairs, ankle propped on her opposite knee, that Jimmy notices her patterned pants.

“Those aren’t from Darcy’s closet are they?”

“No. I’m assuming they’re my clothes from yesterday with the matter recycled for a new decade. Believe me, this outfit wouldn’t have been my choice if I had anything else to pick from.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. I had a whole closet and still ended up with this,” Jimmy says, motioning to himself.

“My retro Secret Agent Man,” Darcy states admiringly, leaning her head over to bump against his shoulder. Ok, he thinks, smiling at her, I can be alright with this for her.

When Monica rises to turn on the television, Jimmy realizes this is the first time they’ve had one in the house. He remembers seeing a set in the Vision residence when he and Darcy were watching an episode on the S.W.O.R.D. base, but he didn’t notice the lack once they got here. Probably because that first night was taken up with flirting, and then yesterday was split between scouring the downtown for Monica and holing up in the bedroom with Darcy. Watching the screen buzz to life now is like witnessing something truly futuristic and spectacular.

“Well, whaddaya know,” he says as the opening sequence of WandaVision begins.

“You think the TVs in here play anything else?” Darcy wonders aloud.

“Maybe not,” Monica says distractedly as they all turn their attention to Wanda and Vision’s adorable antics—the ice cream, the tandem bicycle. “It’s a pretty big coincidence that this show started right when I turned it on.”

“I can see an even bigger coincidence.”

There’s no need to guess what Darcy means. Wanda’s baby bump is obvious in nearly every shot of the introduction, particularly emphasized when she and Vision dance together, his hand on her belly. It’s all maternity clothes and Vision reading pregnancy books and while it’s wholesome, it’s also chilling.

“We’re doing the same plot,” Jimmy says.

“It’s like we’re… their understudies,” Darcy agrees, shrinking back into the cushions.

“Maybe Wanda figured, if you two wanted to be in the show so bad, she’d put you in the show,” Monica theorizes. “Her show. Exactly the way she’s living it.”

“So she’s teaching us a lesson? On what? Abstinence?”

“Could be a misguided attempt to gain your sympathy.”

“Or it really is all about control,” Jimmy suggests, cynical after the reveal that the pregnancy that’s upended his entire life isn’t really theirs. It’s not original. They’re following a Newlywed Couple template.

“Hey,” Darcy says, grabbing his arm, “this wasn’t all Wanda. She might’ve set the scene and, yeah, maybe we were more the goatherd puppets than we were Fraulein Maria and Captain von Trapp, but we did this.” She pulls his hand to her belly. “Wanda doesn’t decide what we do next.”

“What I suggest you not do next is consult Dr. Misogyny over here,” Monica says, gesturing at the television.

The doctor is condescending to Wanda and Vision about the facts of life during a checkup (in their living room?). He lowers himself even further in Jimmy’s regard when he refers to expectant mothers as “little ladies” and implies that the changes in their own bodies are beyond their understanding.

“What a quack,” he decides. “We’re not going to see that guy.” He’s startled to recall his promise to Darcy the previous evening, about options, his intention not to make up her own mind for her. Lowering his voice, he tilts his head close to hers. “I mean, we’ll do whatever you want. Including…”

Jimmy trails off and casts his eyes down. He still means it, wants Darcy on board with this 100% or not at all, but the whole thing’s been a roller coaster and he’s not great at pretending not to feel anything. With his wife so much further into her pregnancy today, it’s obvious that this baby will be born and they’ll need to decide who’s raising it. He thinks the two of them together could rear a pretty incredible kid, but if she wants out, is he prepared to be a single parent? The other option besides her, him, or both of them raising the baby is adoption. They’d need to leave the Hex before taking those steps (it’s not like he’s going to encourage Darcy to hand the baby over to a mind-controlled Westviewer), and just thinking about it, with everything he already feels for the baby, makes him certain that he’d rather rearrange his entire life than pass on this chance at a family. However unorthodox their beginnings.

“Don’t worry,” Darcy says calmly, pulling him from his spiral. “That guy will never get the chance to compare my uterus to a vegetable garden.”

“Fruit,” Monica corrects without looking away from the television.

“Right. Fruit. He’ll have no say about any of it. And he definitely won’t get the opportunity to be patronizing as fuck while he tries to give us the sex talk.” She looks Jimmy right in the eye and says, “I won’t let the asshole doctor-man say a word about your banana.”

Chuckling, he looks back to the screen. The doctor has departed and Vision’s currently baffled over Wanda’s newly expanded stomach. Uh oh. He jerks his head around to check and, yep, Darcy’s baby bump appears to be keeping up with the sitcom star’s.

“You two stay here,” Monica instructs, on her feet when Jimmy glances over.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To Wanda’s. If things continue at this rate, she could give birth in this episode. That’s going to make her even more protective of her family and her space and I’ll have an even harder time getting near her.”

“Are you sure you want to interrupt?”

They both glance at the television for a moment to observe Wanda and Vision debating baby names in the nursery. There’s nothing distressing about the scene—in fact, the couple looks as much at ease as Jimmy’s seen them on the show—but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t change, and quickly, if Monica inserted herself. He just isn’t sure how that would go and he doesn’t like any plan where he can’t foresee all the possible outcomes.

“Guess I just have a feeling,” Monica says, looking unsettled.

“Well,” Darcy pipes up, “in the world of science, having a feeling is forming a theory, and in this place… I think having a feeling you should do something might be Wanda giving you your cue.”

“You’re not beyond her control,” Jimmy tells Monica, “just farther away from it. What if Darcy’s right?”

“If Wanda wants me there, I’m not going to resist,” she replies firmly. “She’s the key and we need her cooperation.”

“Good luck,” Darcy bids her.

With a nod to them both, Monica strides across the living room and opens the front door.

“Speaking of keys,” Jimmy recalls, but the door shuts before he can offer to let her borrow their car to get to Wanda’s.

Maybe the Captain has a different plan. Maybe she’s just bending to Wanda’s influence. Whichever it is, he can’t go after her. Monica was right—he has to stay here with Darcy today, especially because her belly seems larger when he looks again. He glances at her face with a question on his and she nods.

“And I felt a kick,” she says.

“Really? Could I…? Do you think I could…?”

Darcy rolls her eyes at his reticence and guides both his hands to the bump. When he feels something nudge his palm, Jimmy tears up.

“That’s our baby,” Darcy confirms.

“Feels like they have my softball windup,” he murmurs.

“Or my pre-coffee restlessness.”

“Our baby,” Jimmy repeats, staring into her eyes—finally blue for the first time in days, give or take a decade.

They’re having a marvelous family moment until the power goes out. Lights, TV, the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, everything. Seconds later, it all comes back.

“That was strange.”

“I wondered what Wanda’s magic was doing to the power grid,” Darcy says. “I’m still curious about the finer points of what happens when electricity meets power generated by an Infinity Stone. Really, I’d expect Wanda to have this kinda thing under control, but I guess if she’s— Ugh!”

Her pained noise has Jimmy cupping her face, pushing back her hair, trying to figure out what happened.

“She’s distracted,” she says.

“By what?”

“Labour.”

“What? No.”

Sure enough, when Darcy stands (with Jimmy leaping to his feet to support her) and stretches her back, her bump looks big enough to contain a baby that’s almost ready to be born. Ready to be born?! Jimmy thinks. In our house? With no doctor? Just because the one on TV rubbed him the wrong way doesn’t mean he’s prepared to write off every doctor, nurse, and midwife in Westview. He would very much like to place responsibility for this delivery in the hands of a medical professional, not his own!

Even as the TV’s flickering back to life, he helps Darcy away from it. That just shows how serious things are. He knows how quickly she became invested in the sitcom when they reviewed the ’50s episode at the base.

After some frantic thought, he’s thinking the bathtub is going to have to do. People do that right? With home births? Although he attempts to guide Darcy in that direction, she doesn’t even want to sit down on the edge, let alone climb in. No, she wants to pace, and as she paces, she rubs at her lower back, wincing.

“We could look at the nursery,” he proposes. “Might take your mind off it.”

Jimmy knows it could be a weak suggestion, an insult to imply that anything could take Darcy’s mind off whatever discomfort she’s currently feeling, but the Hex, with its radioactive walls, smiles down on them for once. With his arm around her to take some of her weight, they hobble into the baby’s room and it’s… perfect.

The walls are dark blue near the ceiling, almost black, fading to periwinkle halfway down the wall. The lower portion transitions from blue to pale yellow, then a blazing orange right before the baseboard.

“It’s a sunrise,” he comprehends.

“Yeah,” Darcy says softly.

Though he feels like he got slightly ripped off by not being allowed a chance to do any of the decorating, he does admire the Hex’s choices. At last, his wife’s been represented in this space, in this house, and it’s beautiful. There’s a shelf full of space-themed board books, a plastic jumble of play versions of scientific tools like telescopes. A dangling mobile of the planets. After easing his wife into the rocking chair, Jimmy holds up a pack of glow-in-the-dark stars.

“Should I put these up?”

She smiles.

“I would be all over that shit if I could, but I trust you to do a good job.”

“Oh no. Do you want me to do real constellations?”

“The baby’s not gonna know the difference. Make it look however you want.”

She rocks, assuring him something about the motion is helping her manage the intensifying pain of her contractions, and Jimmy finds a small stepping stool to help him reach the ceiling. The sway of the chair in the corner of his eye, the morning light through the curtains, and the sound of Darcy breathing are things he already knows he’ll never forget.

Before he’s stuck all the stars in the pack to the ceiling’s white paint, she calls him down from the stool.

“I need to walk again.”

Darcy says it with grit and Jimmy doesn’t argue, even when walking appears to put her in even more distress; she groans and pushes her free hand against the wall as they stroll out of the nursery and down the hallway.

“Let’s check in with Wanda,” Jimmy says helplessly.

This is who he is now: a husband in over his head, desperate to gain tips about delivering a baby from a TV sitcom. An overwhelmed real estate agent. A man with a mustache.

They return to the living room and the TV playing WandaVision in time for Monica’s entrance. Based on her free use of ’70s slang and the general discord between the Captain Rambeau Jimmy’s been getting to know and the woman on the screen, he knows they’re looking at Geraldine. Wanda’s back in control of her character alright, and Jimmy wants to know who it’s helping. The scene’s centered around some joke about Wanda attempting to hide her pregnancy, which is no good for him. He needs a step-by-step guide, not a magic-resistant stork!

“There better not be a fucking bird in here,” Darcy gripes, alternately crouching and standing as every position fails to make her comfortable. “If I see a fucking, goddamn, sonofabitch, motherfucking—”

“I know, sweetie, I know,” Jimmy assures her, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades with the flat of his hand.

“The betrayal,” she mutters when Wanda elects to lie down behind a couch.

It completely blocks their view. If this were a regular show, Jimmy would understand that. Sitcom viewers would definitely appreciate a little TV magic over graphic, up-close-and-personal birth footage, but here at the Woo residence, one FBI agent and his astrophysicist wife really just want the truth! If Monica had agency, he’s sure she’d shove the couch aside to help them out, but with Geraldine at the helm, he’s confronting the fact that he and Darcy are on their own.

“Let’s go, Darcy,” he says, steering her towards the bathroom. “We don’t need her.”

“Are you sure?”

He’s never heard Darcy sound so uncertain and knows he’ll have to bluff his way through this. When the Avengers aren’t around, the regular people must step up. Reminding himself of that has gotten Jimmy through more than one tough day on the job and he tells himself it’ll get them both through this.

“Of course.”

In the bathroom, Darcy kicks out of her underwear and uses Jimmy as a crutch to climb into the tub. Her face is scrunched up severely and her hands are braced against the walls of the bathtub, so he tries to watch and understand what she needs. When all the tension in her face and body burst out in a shout, he grabs her hand. Her fingers curl around his palm in a death grip.

“How about some nice warm water? Water, Darcy?”

She nods rapidly, eyes clenched shut, and he turns on the facet, then quickly reaches behind her to plug the drain. The stream wets his sleeve and, when he withdraws his arm, hits her hair around the level of her shoulders and begins to soak the back of her dress. Between contractions, Darcy sighs in what sounds like relief.

“That feels good,” she acknowledges.

“Good,” is all Jimmy can say back. He kisses her face and squeezes her hand in his. “Good.”

He’s back to scrambling for a solution soon enough when the warm flow of water down her back stops being enough to soothe her. He helps her out of her sodden dress, tossing it behind him to splat on the tile floor.

“What do you need?” he asks wildly, leaning over the tub.

“Earplugs,” Darcy tells him before emitting a scream shrill enough to probably be heard by their neighbour’s dog, Dipper, down the street.

Jimmy doesn’t think, he just does. Snatching a towel off the rail, bracing his wife’s foot against his shoulder as her leg spasms, reaching into the water to collect their baby when the Hex (he assumes) does them the favour of letting one long push be sufficient to expel him. Him. Jimmy and Darcy’s son.

He’s beaming through the happy tears, delicately wiping at the wailing baby with the towel and passing him into Darcy’s outstretched arms as she shakes with astonished laughter, hair wet, head resting back against the jut of the faucet.

“That wasn’t so hard,” he jokes.

Darcy sits up, sending a splash of water over the side of the bathtub to slap the floor, and he knows the Hex is interfering again to make her capable of anything besides exhaustion after what she just accomplished. She twists sideways in the tub until she’s closer to Jimmy. He wraps an arm around her wet shoulders and peers down at the face of their boy, already drowsy after exercising his tiny lungs. Jimmy can feel Darcy studying his face.

“Jimmy Woo Junior?” she asks.

And he knows the rest is going to be gravy.

—

Inside the Hex, the magic of television is real. They didn’t need to fake Darcy’s pregnancy with a cushion to make her belly, round and taut as a beach ball, disappear entirely only minutes after giving birth. They didn’t need a set of twins or triplets playing Jimmy Woo Jr. to swap in a quiet baby for one that starts to cry. There’s no trick lighting or fudged angles, just Darcy sitting on the couch (in dry, non-maternity clothes) catching their amazingly calm, less than an hour-old son up on the details of his origin story—Darcy’s wording.

It’s shaping up to be a nice, if highly unusual, family day in, until the tension starts to mount on-screen. Probably something Jimmy could’ve caught sooner if he weren’t spending 50 seconds out of every minute stroking the baby’s teeny-weeny hands while he hopes Jimmy Jr. retains zero memory of his dad’s mustache. When he hears Monica mention Wanda’s brother by name, he’s fully alert to the episode and knows he has to act. That close to Wanda, Monica’s control should be fully suppressed beneath the character of Geraldine. If she’s breaking through to ask Wanda person questions, questions that are almost definitely going to provoke an emotional response, Monica must be fighting like crazy to surface. Jimmy decides that’s his signal to get over there and help bring this thing to a satisfying conclusion so they can all leave the Hex.

“You’re not going to Wanda’s without me,” Darcy informs him, planted in front of the door when Jimmy returns from grabbing his keys.

“Darcy, you can’t. The baby. I’d stay with him and let you go, but I’ve never heard you mention particular skill in hand-to-hand combat and I can’t guarantee things won’t turn violent.”

She snorts.

“Liar. I could be the world’s biggest hand-to-hand badass and you’d still be trying to protect me right now.”

He stares at her and Darcy stubbornly lifts her chin as she holds his eyes.

“Ok,” Jimmy concedes, “yes, I would.”

“Please don’t leave us here,” she says, cheek pressed to the baby’s. No, no, no, he can already feel himself wanting to surrender, to have them with him. Darcy kisses their son’s face, then holds his hand to gesture while she pitches her voice higher, pretending to speak for Jimmy Jr. “I want to meet Auntie Monica.”

He gives her a look and reaches past her to open the door. Instead of trying to exit around his family, he waves Darcy through ahead of him. (She looks down at the baby in her arms and goes “Yaaaay! Isn’t Daddy a soft touch?”)

“You didn’t persuade me,” he says, leading them to the car and holding the door for Darcy while she climbs into the back seat with the baby. “This is strategic.”

“Is the strategy common sense? I feel like you should’ve gone with that from the beginning. Bringing a scientist to a magic fight is good thinking, for, like, balance and shit.”

Jimmy backs down the driveway as gently as he can. Their car’s been modernized (well, for the latest decade) and while it now has seatbelts, it wasn’t equipped with a car seat for their son. He’s going to have to drive with the utmost care.

“Hopefully, there won’t be a fight,” he reminds Darcy, “but if there is, you won’t be anywhere near it. You and Jimmy Junior are staying in the car. Alright?”

When he darts his gaze to the rear-view mirror, he sees his wife looking out her window, making a show of not listening to him. Jimmy sighs.

Without thinking, he navigates back to the street where they dropped Monica off yesterday. Wanda’s house is just down from Dottie’s; he remembers the number from watching WandaVision. Jimmy draws up to the curb and parks. He glances back at Darcy, but she’s still ignoring him.

“I’ll try to be right back,” he tells her anyway, eyes dropping longingly to the serene face of his sleeping son. He’s heard that about babies and car rides.

Jogging up the driveway, he does a doubletake of a ragged slash in the wall between Wanda’s property and her neighbour’s. There’s not exactly anything wrong with a damaged cinderblock or an amateur handyman job, but the crevice in the stone stands out in a world so aggressively styled and manicured.

Wishing for the reassurance of his gun at his hip in case things go south (it’s the first time he’s even thought about the gun since the night he and Darcy arrived), Jimmy enters the Vision residence without knocking.

Orienting himself to what he was just watching on TV in a house less than a mile from here, he walks across the entryway, attracting the attention of both Wanda and Monica. They’re standing across from each other in the living room. Raising his hands to show he intends no harm, Jimmy sweeps his eyes over the scene in assessment, like he has a hundred times before. Monica’s expression is alarmed under superficial friendliness—the look of someone trying to placate an attacker. With her aggressive, forward-leaning posture and the way she’s positioned herself between Monica and the cribs (he’s surprised to see more than one, but he did miss some of the episode while he was delivering his son in their bathtub), Wanda fits that role.

“Wanda,” he says, taking a step towards the seating area, “you don’t want to hurt her.”

“Are you working with her?” Wanda demands. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

“James Woo. I’m not here to hurt you. Neither is Geraldine.”

“You don’t want to hurt me? Then why do you come asking questions? Saying things—” He can see her chin wobble from here as she teeters on the edge of tears. “—about Pietro. You didn’t know my brother.”

Her statement is directed at Monica, but Jimmy tries to bring her focus back to him. Of himself and the Captain, he’s the one with an exit at his back, whereas Monica’s hemmed in by a large bookcase.

“I didn’t know your brother,” Jimmy agrees. “I do know about him, but we don’t need to talk about that. I don’t want to upset you, Wanda, I just want you to let me leave with Geraldine.”

“Oh, I’ll let you leave,” Wanda says, cocking her head as she raises her hands. This motion conveys the opposite meaning to Jimmy’s—she does intend them harm.

He’s contemplating what’ll happen if he tries to rush her when Darcy charges through the front door he left open.

“Don’t!” Jimmy gasps, making a grab for her, but his body is tense with caution and Darcy has the momentum to dodge him, stepping down the level into the living room.

“Look,” Darcy demands of Wanda, whose expression is torn as she chooses between facing Monica and this new intruder.

Jimmy’s mentally composing and rejecting ideas of how to proceed when their unwelcoming host lowers her hands. She’s looking where Darcy directed her to, at the baby in Darcy’s arms.

“He was born less than an hour ago, and I only found out I was pregnant yesterday, but that doesn’t matter. I know it’s the same for you, the circumstances and the… yeah, whatever. You know about the Big Bang, right?” she continues, jumping to the next thought.

“Yes,” Wanda says carefully.

Jimmy’s terrified to move closer and set Wanda on the offensive again. He glances at Monica, who seems to be thinking the same thing, frozen in place.

“From nothing to so much, in an instant,” Darcy’s saying in her condensed history of the universe. “Science is supposed to be full of all these rules. Like, every scientist dude important enough to remember had some law or formula or method that we map everything on top of when we’re pretending we understand all this. Being in science isn’t a goal I’ve had for a long time—I mean, I probably wouldn’t be in it now if the world hadn’t more or less ended—and if all I ever heard about the workings of the universe was rules, I would’ve stayed away. Who likes rules, right? Who wants to be told that things are the way they are because something outside of your control says so? My point is…”

She takes a deep breath, then another one, shifting until she’s blocking Wanda’s expression from Jimmy’s view.

“Sorry, I just gave birth, you know how it is,” Darcy says when she goes on. Jimmy’s stricken with exasperation, adoration, fear, and pride. “My point is that I love science because, while science is laws and rules and equations, science is also standing outside at night and staring up at the dark. There are explanations for every light that’s up there and why, even when you’re away from big cities and the sky seems so black and close, you don’t fall up into it, although it kinda feels like you could. Science can tell me why, and it still feels like magic when I look at the stars. And we’ve all been traveling out here in space together, getting made and unmade and made again because the right ingredients needed to create something as precious as a planet, or a baby, or the clay that’ll make the bricks that’ll make the house never disappear. Suns explode, asteroids collide and get chipped away… things can separate down to their smallest part, life can…”

“End?” Wanda asks.

Jimmy’s stunned to hear the word come out choked. Cautiously, he leans to get a glimpse of Wanda’s face. It’s covered in tears. Darcy’s nodding.

“But everything’s valuable. All matter gets reused.” Jimmy wants to grab her and pull her to safety when she takes a step closer to Wanda. “I get it if you’re sad and you’re not ready to talk about it. I’m not gonna say it’s ok, because I’ve heard Monica’s testimonial on exactly how much it sucks to have you in her head, but I do think you should let us leave now so you have a few friends out there when you inevitably need people on your side.”

“You can go,” Wanda agrees, swiping at her nose. “I won’t hurt your baby.”

“You’re not going to hurt my friend either,” Darcy says, beckoning for Monica to cross the room behind her. “Or my husband.”

“No,” Wanda says.

Monica reaches Jimmy and they wait for Darcy in the entryway.

“I bet all that control feel really good,” Darcy theorizes. “Taking it into your own hands. But I think you know that focusing on the beautiful, magical stuff doesn’t mean the rules no longer exist. Maybe you can find a way to accept them both.”

“It’s time for you to leave,” Wanda says, firmer now.

“Not looking for a life coach, got it.”

She joins Jimmy and Monica, bouncing the baby lightly in her arms. Wanda ushers them out of the house ahead of her. Jimmy glances back to see her close the door after herself with a twist and red glow of her hands.

“What about waiting in the car?” he mutters to Darcy as they stride down the lawn.

His self-proclaimed wife stares at him.

“I’m not the kind of person who waits in the car. Would the kind of person who waits in the car give a speech like that?”

Jimmy’s at an honest-to-goodness loss for words.

She gets into the car willingly enough now, Jimmy in the passenger’s seat while Monica slides behind the wheel.

“Wanda’s told me how to stand, how to move, how to walk since I got in here,” Monica says, turning the key in the ignition. “I’m driving myself out.”

“It’ll part for you when you get there,” Wanda calls to them from the lawn. “The barrier. I suggest you do not attempt to enter again.”

“I think we’ve all had our fill,” Jimmy informs her cheerfully through his rolled-down window.

She doesn’t respond to this, so Monica executes a three-point turn and takes them back up the street the way they came. From there, they turn out of the subdivision, but Jimmy snags a last look at Wanda through the back window. There’s a light breeze blowing her dress and hair and she looks like she could be anyone. A suburban mom of twins? Why not. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see her again in person, but he has plans to catch her show.

“Wanda’s changed the roads,” Monica says as she drives. For his son’s sake, Jimmy’s grateful that she isn’t speeding, though he wouldn’t blame her for trying to get out of here as quickly as possible. “None of them lead out of town.”

“Literal tourist trap. Brilliant,” Darcy declares from the back seat. Jimmy reaches an arm back blindly and feels her close her hand around his.

“But,” Monica adds, “I remember Ellis Avenue being the closest cross street to the edge of town. We find that, then drive over the grass. Things may get a little bumpy.”

“We’ll survive.”

Jimmy twists around to look at Darcy. He nods. They will. They’ll survive.

They cross Ellis and take the car off-road. The barrier remains invisible, but…

“I can feel it,” Darcy says.

“Like we did the day we came in,” Jimmy recalls.

“It still wants us out,” Monica interprets. He sees her staring uneasily ahead. “Was I naïve to think I could change anything by coming in here?”

“No, Captain. It was brave.”

“Didn’t work though. We aren’t leaving with Wanda.”

“It could work,” Darcy says. “We left her with a few things to think about. We’ll watch WandaVision and see.”

“That’ll be strange after being a part of it.”

“You think so?” Jimmy wonders. He takes a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and the sunshine, playing with Darcy’s fingers laced through his. “I think it’s returning to regular life that’s going to feel strange. Out there, it’s easy to see all this as a TV show, but everything in here is real.”

“We’ll make Hayward understand that.”

“I’m bringing back some compelling evidence,” Darcy says, followed by kissy sounds directed at Jimmy Jr.

The air just a couple of car lengths ahead of them abruptly glows red as Wanda reveals the wall of the Hex. Jimmy and Monica exchange a look, but she doesn’t slow down. They pass through without resistance. All of a sudden, it’s night. Monica lets out a relieved sigh.

The S.W.O.R.D. base is looming, exterior lights ablaze, but Jimmy looks backwards, checking that Darcy and the baby are alright.

“Same as you left us,” she says, pulling back the blanket to show him the face of his son.

He gives her a slightly melancholic smile.

“Not quite, Dr. Lewis.”

“I’ll have a lot of work to do,” Darcy notes thoughtfully, “but time for you and me to go on dates will be on my list of demands.”

“You have a list of demands?” Monica asks, laughter in her voice.

“After being forced into the Hex, where I could’ve lost my life? Fuck yes, I have a list.”

“What else are you asking for?”

“The coffee I requested on day one and a desk in a better spot so there’s room next to it for the crib that will also be on my list.”

Monica laughs aloud now.

“Is this a benefits negotiation or a baby shower registry?”

“Let’s get back to the part where we’re going on dates,” Jimmy says. “How’s that going to work?”

“Jimmy, darlin’,” Darcy begins, “will you go out with me?”

He leans to look around his seat at her.

“Darcy, we were married. We have a baby. Don’t you think we can—”

“Answer the question, Agent Woo.”

“Of course I’ll go out with you,” he says.

“And that’s how it works. Easy-peasy.”

She gives his hand a squeeze before releasing it to hold Jimmy Jr. more securely as Monica pulls up to a building and brakes. Already, S.W.O.R.D. agents are rushing out to meet them, but Jimmy drops back against his seat and smiles to himself.

“‘Easy-peasy.’”

#my writing #Hex Life #wandavision #wandavision spoilers #Darcy Lewis #Jimmy Woo #Darcy Lewis x Jimmy Woo #Darcy x Jimmy

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ynisamenace · 4 years

Text

Party For One

Warnings: sub! Aone being a flustered mess, confident dom! Reader, nsfw kinda (grinding, not pg-13 kissing), mention of drugs and alcohol, college au! Aone.

Word count: 2.3k

a/n: ok guys this is my first fanfic so apologies if it’s not too good or if the ending is too rushed. Constructive criticism is always welcome and pls don’t forget to like and/or reblog. Thank you!

Aone was not much of a party goer. Although his friends were more outgoing, he in fact was not. He was more of a homebody, mostly leaving his shared apartment with Kenji for school, to get more ramen from the corner shop near his uni or practice with his newly-formed volleyball team; courtesy of his newly-formed friend, Kanji. Then proceeding to come home to shower, nap, wake up, struggle with his homework and then sleep till the next day. He was about to start the fourth activity of his daily routine when the sound of the doorbell rang through the apartment.

Sighing, he left his spot at the kitchen island to open the front door, then trying to close it once Kanji’s face appeared behind it.

“Woah woah if you wanted some alone time, you should’ve just said that”, the cat-faced friend exclaimed, just barely slipping through the crack in the door. Face adorned with brown freckles and a smile seemingly super glued to his face, he looked like the poster boy of golden retriever boys, “Wouldn’t matter anyway since I’m still dragging you to Sugawara’s tonight.”

Ah yes, Suga’s party, the one Aone was being forced to go to as a favour for his new friend. The white haired boy uttered a grunt of disapproval as Kanji plopped down onto his couch.

“I’m telling you man, when girls see us walking in together with my beauty and your scowl-,” he smirked while giving Aone a once over, “-they’ll come flocking like parakeets.” Aone ignored his new friend’s rambling and was about to go back to his homework when his phone buzzed. Picking it up and looking at his crush’s name made him do a double take before realizing it was from his class groupchat.

Y/n❤: Someone better come pick me up or else I’m dumping the mary jane😤

Sugawara: You live on campus, how did you sneak it in?

Y/n❤: Come pick me up and I’ll tell you

Bsf/n: I can see I’m gonna be on y/n duty tonight. I’ll come get you in 5

Y/n❤: Girl I’ll literally marry you don’t play with me

-5 minutes later-

Y/n❤: Psa to everyone in this groupchat, bsf/n and I are married now

Bsf/n: As long as you do my makeup for the party lol

Y/n❤: Deal

A slightly dejected sigh left the tall boy’s lips, wishing it was him y/n would joke about marrying to the- wait party?? The realization that y/n was going to the same party as him made heart race with anticipation and although he never talked to her in any of the classes they shared, Aone developed a massive crush on y/n just by seeing the way she interacts with others as well as her personality. Her presence when she walks into a room, beautiful coily/kinky hair either flowing or in a different ‘protective style’ (which Aone ended up googling the meaning to) and her face adorned with a smile so bright, he could feel his ears getting hotter just by its look, it would be foolish to think that no other person in his uni or elsewhere had already snatched her up. Which is why Aone never felt the need to let her know about how much he was falling for her.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his roommate’s door opening, revealing a clearly tipsy Kenji trying and failing to button up the last button on his silk shirt.

“Is anyone g-gonna help or what..” he slurred, stumbling into the living room, planting himself right in front of Aone who begrudgingly helped him with the last button. Satisfied, the intoxicated boy walks over to Kanji on the couch who’s currently scrolling through his instagram feed. He gives Kenji a once over before giving a nod of approval to his outfit. He turns to the tall, white haired boy, “Aone go change, the party starts in 10 and you know it’ll take us half an hour to get there!”, he exclaimed gesturing to Aone with his hands in a shooing manner. He didn’t understand what was wrong with his gray shirt and black sweatpants but went to his room to go change anyway, returning six minutes later sporting a green and white checkered shirt with dark blue jeans and black levis. The trio hurriedly leave their apartement, Kanji practically dragging both boys to his car before appointing Aone as the designated driver as the boy was the only one who had no intention to drink at the party.

The ride to the party took much more than half an hour as Aone was forced to drive while simultaneously trying to stop the two boys at the back from drinking any more of the pregame Kanji brought as well as preventing Kenji from messing with the aux cord. In the end, both boys settled on playing Ei8th mile on repeat the rest of the drive, both alternating between rapping DigDat and Aitch’s lines. Finally getting to the address Sugawara sent to the group, the trio hopped out of the car and went to knock on the door, opening to reveal the silver haired boy in all his glory wearing a burger king crown and a drunk smile.“You guys look li-hiccup-ke you had a fun drife here”, opening the door wider to reveal flashing red and purple strobe lights, living room filled with drunk and soon-to-be drunk college students and a hiphop song playing with a loud base that almost made Aone’s teeth clink. The two drunk boys wasted no time heading to the make shift bar in the kitchen, Aone following reluctantly behind feeling quite awkward in the party setting. Even worse, he was unable to spot y/n in the crowd making his heart drop lower into his stomach.

No no no no.

Even though Aone didn’t think y/n would like him the way he likes her, he was hoping he could at least use this party to make himself known to her, maybe forming a friendship with her first before professing his love. Dejectedly, he trudges to the bar, sulking next to his now very drunk friends who are far more interested with the designs on the kitchen counter.

“Dude it’s so swirly…how do they make it like that?” one of the boys asks.

“Bro it has to be like a top secret thing. Like in the dark web,” the other replied, his eyes widening as his pupils are blown out more.

Not wanting to deal with their drunk conspiracies, Aone heads to the store room in search for some water after not seeing any laid out. Finding a bottle, he quickly gulps it down, faintly hearing the song in the living room change to one with a much deeper base. Leaving the store with his thirst finally quenched, he recognizes the song as Cold by Rico Nasty, her gravely voice echoing around the living room and drowning out some of the chatter which Aone was grateful for.

Ridin’ in a Maserati

Like Scotty I’m with two hotties

I ain’t just walk in the party-

“I brought the drugs to the partyyyy”, a voice which made Aone’s heart beat faster screamed, Y/n bursting through the front door with a medium sized pack of marijuana and a tray of what he assumes are pot brownies as the crownd cheered at her arrival. Her eyes wide with excitement, hair in cute little bantu knots (which Aone noted is now probably his favourite hairstyle on her), and dazzling smile still glued to her face. Making a bee line to the kitchen to drop the stuff she was holding, she hugged and greeted the people closest to her, making Aone regret not standing closer to the front door before realizing she was making her way straight to him.“Hi Polar Bear!” her scent of f/p enveloping him as she hugged his stomach, hair right next to nose, making the boy short-circuit. Y/n is hugging me. Me. Hugging. She smells so good. I should probably hug her back. But what if that’s weird. Hugging me. I’m gonna marry her. I’m gonna throw u-

“Takanobu woohoo you good?” she whispered in neck, drawing him out of his daydream, while at the same time making blood rush to his lower region. His eyes widen as he turns to see her staring right at him, inches apart and eyes questioning.

“I-I’m doing well y/n, um you uh look great tonight”, he managed to blurt out, his compliment making her lips curve into that signature smile. He unconsciously let out a low groan as he felt his jeans tighten even more as his mind raced a mile a minute, envisioning her on top of him, smile turning into a smirk as she runs her hands over his body making him squirm. His neck, his nipples, his happy trail, his-

Once again brought out of his daydream, he looked around to see y/n already gone and dancing in the living room, her presence making her look ethereal in the flashing lights. Smiling slightly, Aone deciding to stop before his imagination made him cream in his pants, decided to go look for his friends spotting both of them laying near a potted plant in the hallway caressing the leaves and muttering under their breaths. He discreetly goes back to the store, getting two bottles of water and placing them on either side of his friends, knowing they’ll be shocked at it ‘appearing’.

Sighing tiredly, he briefly thinks of just driving back to his apartment having already seen his crush and hugged her, but decided against it not wanting to feel guilty for abandoning his intoxicated friends. He was about to go to the backyard looking for some fresh air before he heard his name being said in the crowd. Turning around too quickly he bumped into someone, gripping their waist and letting their scent envelop him before he caught a glimpse of their hair.

Yes yes God yes

“Nobu I’m so sorry, I was trying to get your attention but you didn’t turn around!” y/n exclaimed, gripping his shirt making the boy realize his grip on her waist was tightening significantly. He quickly tried to let go but y/n wasn’t having any of it and planted his large palm on her backside, squeezing a little. Aone’s face had never been as red as it is now from that simple action. Clearing his throat, he gives a tentative squeeze to gauge her reaction and seeing the smirk on her face as her pupils darken. She finally releases her grip on his hand and turns to the dance floor, Aone follow behind.

As they reach the dance floor, afrobeats fill the air as joro by wizkid which Aone knew was one of y/n’s favourite songs) plays turning the energy of the party to a slower tempo. Y/n turns to the tall boy, once more putting his hands on her waist, before pulling him closer to her, their bodies now pressed against eachother.

Aone can feel her grinding on his pants and begs to any God who’ll listen to please not let him pop a boner right now. Her mouth comes closer to his ear and he can feel her breath making shivers run down his spine. “I could feel it you know…” she whispers as his eyes widen, embarrassment from though him as he realizes she felt the first boner he popped while hugging her in the kitchen “…didn’t peg you as the type. What a pervert you are Nobu.”

That small gesture almost made Aone cream in his pants. Almost. If not for the overwhelming shame he would feel if someone saw him, his dick was already as hard as can be. A murmur left Aone’s lips and y/n has to strain her neck to hear him over the sound of the music flowing through the house.

“What was that Nobu?”

“P-plea-ase,” he whispers, ears a bright shade of red as y/n smirks looking him in the eye to see his pupils blown out, clouded with lust and feeling his member poking her in the thigh.

“Please what Nobu?” their lips almost touching.

“..Please kiss me”

“That’s all you had to say ya damn polar bear”, finally pressing her lips on his and making the butterflies in his stomach turn into fireworks. He really couldn’t believe it. His head felt like it was about to burst from all the blood that rushed into it. Her lips felt so much better, so much better than his imagination. Her hands sliding up to his neck and slipping into the hair on the nape of his neck, he uttered a low groan giving access to y/n to slip her tongue onto his. Aone could feel his precum dampening his briefs and hoped that a dark spot wouldn’t be visible by the end of the night. She tried to break the kiss, his head leaning closer not letting her go until she tugged hard on his nape hair forcefully, a string of saliva still connecting them.

“What a needy boy”, she smirked, letting go of him to swipe at the corner of his lips. “Why didn’t I come speak to you earlier?”, he didn’t care because for him, this really was worth the wait.

Aone was not much of a party goer, but he’d have to thank his friends in the morning for forcing him to go to this one.

Tags: @itzgabz22

#aone x reader #dom!reader #haikyuuxblackreader!#aone x y/n #haikyuu!!#blackreader!#sub!aone #ceowrites

168 notes · View notes

vs-redemption · 4 years

Note

Omg can I get scenarios about how you think Fatgum and Mirio would react if they found out that their crush thought they didn’t like them?? 😭😭 ty!!!!! ❤️

From Cindy: Wowzer! I really liked this request but it took me a couple days to get some ideas worked out in my head. I’m happy with the way they turned out, and I hope you are too anon!!

A Crush?! (Fatgum x Reader) and (Mirio x Reader)

FATGUM

When Taishiro Toyomitsu first opened his hero agency in the lively city of Osaka, his first priority had been to hire a cook to work there. Because his quirk relied heavily on the amount of fat stored up in his body, it was important to have a constant source of food available. Snacks and small meals between and during patrols did little to keep him fully powered, so finding someone who could meet his extreme dietary needs was of the upmost importance.

The first few people he’d brought onto his team hadn’t worked out so well. Even though he had no complaints about their food, they just couldn’t seem to keep up with his immense appetite. They got too caught up in the presentation, plus the portions were just too small. When the BMI hero finally hired you right out of culinary school, he was relieved to find your approach to his food conundrum much more satisfying.

He never had to worry about going hungry when he got into his agency anymore. Not only did you made sure there was plenty of food readily available for him, but you also kept his diet balanced with healthy foods that contained enough calories to fatten him up for his patrols. The food itself kept Taishiro’s stomach happy and full, but the effort and care you put into your work definitely started having an effect on his heart too after a while. Your dedication to keeping him in top shape drew his attention until he found himself starting to look forward more to seeing and talking to you than even eating your delicious food.

Taishiro wasn’t the type to lie to himself about his feelings. He knew perfectly well that he’d developed a little crush on you. He wasn’t exactly sure how to go about confessing though, or if he even should. His schedule didn’t leave much time for dating, and he didn’t want to start something if he wasn’t going to be able to dote on you the way he was starting to desperately want to.

Little did he know, on the other side of things, you were struggling to deal with the feelings you had for him too. You had always thought your boss was a nice guy, but after seeing his jolly and friendly behavior every day, you couldn’t help the crush that had creeped up on you. You tried your best to put it out of your mind, assuming there was no way a great hero like Taishiro could return your feelings. It wasn’t as if he did anything to make you feel otherwise. He was as kind and encouraging to you as anyone else you’d seen him interact with. It was just that you knew the nature of your job made your personality come off a bit too overbearing to really spark a romance. You constantly berated yourself after each and every interaction you had with him, physically cringing as you remembered the nagging comments you’d made.

“I know you need the calories for your quirk, Taishiro, but don’t forget to eat some fruits and vegetables too.”

“Eat another bowl of rice, Taishiro. You never know when you’ll need that little extra push when fighting a villain.”

“Taishiro, don’t forget to take the leftovers with you in case you get hungry out there! It’s better for you than all that street food you’re always picking up on patrol.”

When you thought about it, you really pestered him way too much. Sure, it was your job to feed him, but still, he was a grown man. He didn’t need you bothering or lecturing like he was some kind of kid. The only reason you even acted the way you did was because you cared and worried about him, but how it came across was probably annoying and patronizing. This is why you were confident he’d never like you the way you liked him.

Eventually, the combination of your feelings for him and the concern over his impression of you becomes too much and you decide to confront him. You get to the agency early one day and make him some fresh jelly filled donuts.

“Hey! You hardly ever make stuff like this!” Taishiro chuckles, “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s my way of saying thank you for putting up with me,” you shrug awkwardly. “I know I’m a bit of a nag sometimes.” Your words take the hero by surprise.

“I don’t think you’re a nag at all!” He sounded upset to hear you say that. “I hope I never gave you the idea that I did.”

“No,” you shake your head. “You didn’t… I just figured you were nice to me just to be polite.”

“What?” Taishiro shakes his head, “You couldn’t be further from the truth. If I’m being honest, I’ve actually developed quite the soft spot for you.” You look up into his eyes, a feeling of hope spreading through you.

“Yeah,” Taishiro laughs and scratches the back of his head bashfully. “I guess you could say I have a bit of a crush on you.” The conversation had definitely taken an unexpected turn, and you couldn’t be happier.

“I…” You hesitate for a moment but then give in. “I have a crush on you too! I have for a while. I never dreamed you could feel the same way.” The smile that stretched across the hero’s face warmed your heart.

“How could I not feel the same way?” He chuckles while patting his large belly. “I’ve never met anyone else who could keep both my stomach and my heart so full.” His words were music to your ears. And now that you both were on the same page about your feelings, you could sit down together and start discussing important questions about the future, like where he was going to take you on your first date.

MIRIO

Getting a job as a server at the mundane little diner on the outskirts of town had only meant to be a temporary gig to help you save up some extra money for school. Your campus was just a short train ride from the restaurant, and your apartment was even closer. It wasn’t glamorous or anything, but it paid the bills. Besides, it was just a stepping stone in the path to your dream job, so you were more than willing to deal with it until a bigger more fulfilling opportunity came along.

What you hadn’t expected after starting the job was that you’d be terrible at it. You didn’t realized how bad your short term memory was until you found yourself forgetting people’s orders, or taking meals to the wrong tables. If that wasn’t bad enough, you also had a hard time balancing plates of food and were always dropping glasses and silverware accidentally. Luckily, your boss was a pretty chill and forgiving person and hadn’t felt the need to fire you yet. You really didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding another job, so you continued doing the best you could each and every day.

A few weeks after being hired, you started to feel the tiniest bit more confident about your abilities as a server. At the very least, you were getting better at remembering orders. Thankfully, there were a lot of regulars that got the same things every time which made your job easier. You were just starting to get into a comfortable routine when life decided to throw you a curveball. There was no way you could stop yourself from tripping over your own feet and almost spilling some poor customers breakfast all over the floor when you saw the pro hero, Le Million, walk into the diner with one of his hero friends. Thankfully you managed not to fall on your face or drop any food. Your relief was short lived, however, when Le Million walked right over and took a seat at a table in your section.

You knew it was going to be a disaster as soon as you walked over and forgot what you should even do. Being so close to Le Million was triggering a meltdown in your brain. He was your favorite hero and you honestly had a huge crush on him. Having him looking right at you with those cheerful blue eyes and wide friendly smile was extremely overwhelming.

“Uh…” You stood there blankly with the pen and pad in your hand.

“I think we’re going to start with something to drink!” Le Million speaks up with a light laugh which sparks you back to life.

“Ok, right!” you shake your head and try to focus. “What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have coffee,” he says before gesturing to his companion. “I think you usually take hot green tea right?” The friend nods so you write the order down.

“A hot green tea and a coffee for Le Million,” you mumble without meaning to.

“Oh, I’m on my lunch break!” he corrects you with a grin. “So, you can call me Mirio.”

“Right,” you nod excitedly. “Mirio”

You do your best to function as you continue to serve him. You somehow bring black tea instead of green, but Mirio just waves off the mistake with a wave of his hand. You swear you write down the correct order for him word for word, but humiliation consumes you when his friend points out that there were tomatoes on his hamburger even though he’d asked for none. You offer to bring him a new plate but he tells you it’s unnecessary. He doesn’t even pick off the tomatoes before taking a huge bite.

When Mirio and his friend finally leave, you feel yourself deflate. You were thankful the embarrassing experience was over, but part of you wished you’d made a better impression. The universe must’ve been out for you because the next day, it decided to grace you with a second chance. Mirio walked back into your diner with his friend, taking the same table as the day before. You tried to do a better job at serving him this time but you still fumbled a few things. This continued for a few weeks. For some reason, Mirio kept coming back and sitting in your section. You had no idea why since he must be sick of your horrible service by now. You tried to think of a logical explanation for a while, but always came up empty.

“Um, Mirio,” you tell him one day as he hands you the money to pay for his bill. “I know I’m not the best server in the world, so you don’t have to sit in my section every time.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to talk to you!” Mirio replies instantly, looking taken aback by your words.

“Oh,” you hadn’t expected a response like that. “But I always mess up your order.”

“That’s all right!” Mirio perks back up, “As long as you keep doing your best, that’s what matters! Plus, I’ve been sort of biding my time, looking for the right moment to ask for your number. I think you’re really cute.” He winces a little bit as if preparing for rejection. The confession startles you and you somehow end up missing his hand while giving back his change, causing coins to scatter across the counter. Mirio just smiles and helps you pick it all up.

“I can really give you my number?” you ask in shock once the money is back in his hands.

“Yeah!” He assures you, “As long as I’m allowed to call it!” You felt yourself blush, but managed to stay calm enough to grab a napkin and scribble your number down. Mirio thanked you before heading out with his hero friend to go back on patrol. It was less than a minute later when your phone buzzed in your pocket with a message from your hero crush.

It said, “I can’t wait to see you again tomorrow!”

You’re still in a state of shock as you hug your phone to your chest. You’d initially taken the diner job as a way to save money for school, but maybe fate had brought you here for something else entirely.

#mirio x reader #fatgum x reader #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #bnha x reader #mha x read #togata mirio #Taishiro Toyomitsu #bnha #mha #writing requests #cindy's writing

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meichenxi · 3 years

Text

Obsession, ‘productivity’ and habits vs routines: starting learning in a healthier way

cw: perfectionism, obsessiveness, allusion to eating disorders, depression, anxiety (very non-explicit) I’m going to be writing a series of posts from some asks I’ve had waiting for me, on how to build a cohesive language learning routine, but I wanted to preface that first with something we talk about less than we should in the language learning community: obsessiveness, perfectionism, recovery from mental health, and how to approach language learning in a better way. If the personal stuff bores you, feel free to skip the first two paragraphs.

I have been trying to ‘be more productive’ - in healthy ways, and unhealthy ways - since I was about ten. If you don’t fit in, for whatever reason, hobbies - and especially creative or ‘productive’ ones - are a wonderful escape. They make you feel that it’s ok not to have friends; they let you look down on all those other stupid children with all the misplaced arrogance of every single bored, clever pre-teen. When I was twelve, I realised there was no point eating with people that didn’t like me and went to the library instead, because that was ‘dead time’. When I was fourteen, I realised getting the bus was ‘dead time’, and started doing Anki for two hours a day. When I was sixteen, I realised walking was ‘dead time’, and started either listening to podcasts or talking out loud. By the time I was eighteen, I was doing four A-levels in school, an EPQ, teaching myself an extra Latin GCSE, and taught myself the Spanish A-level in 3 months right before the exam. I also worked out for two hours a day - because eating lunch was ‘dead time’, and sleeping was ‘dead time’ - trained martial arts four evenings a week, tutored twice a week, had a part-time job as a waitress, played the flute in a prestigious orchestra, and was 150,000 words deep in the first draft of a very gay, Norse-mythology inspired fantasy novel.

I had it all under control. My marks were excellent; I was a well-rounded person, musical and sporty and already decently on the way to becoming a polyglot, I was training to be a teacher, and I had plans to publish my novel. My home life was painful, but I was painfully independent with what I now like to call the ‘Elsa complex’. Or, actually, like Zuko: I could look after myself, by myself. It was all under control.

I guess everyone can see where this is going. School ended, and with it came endless, open days. I fell apart.

With endless surprise, I can now say that, four years later, I think I’ve come through the worst of it. I still have tendencies to get obsessive, but my anxiety and perfectionism are a lot better, I don’t dissociate, and I have - gasp! shock! - actual interest in life again. I never wrote that novel, but I’m still gay and still love Norse mythology, so I’m slowly finding my way towards writing again. What people don’t tell you about getting better, though, is that trying to define yourself, trying to find yourself, as a person who exists without mental illness, is very, very hard. Many of the things that you used to identify as core components of your personality or important values may have changed, and you may be hesitant about trying to take up hobbies that you used to enjoy because you recognise - and rightly so - that the incessant drive to be doing something, all the time, didn’t necessarily come from anywhere healthy. That those things which you clung to and which protected you may actually have ended up harming you in the end. A lot of figuring out old patterns of unhelpful thoughts involves realising that the things that you defended or framed as helping - weren’t. That’s a hard thought, especially because those mechanisms developed to try and protect you, one that’s immeasurably sad.

Seperating your reasons for doing something obsessively and your love of it in the first place, before it became unhealthy, is difficult. And it means that when you feel - finally, finally - ready to start tackling something like language learning again, you end up sorting of approaching it sideways, shiftily, as if you’re hoping to trick yourself into it. It’s a delicate thing, like a baby bird, and it’s dangerous too, because if you do everything which you did before - the only thing you know how to do - it’s not going to work. And every time it fails is personal, because being able to do it again represents getting better, and reclaiming parts of your identity mental illness stole, and it hurts.

I’m writing this post because somebody asked me about my approach to creating a successful language learning routine. And I do have a lot of thoughts - but I wanted to preface that post with this one, to say:

If you are reading this to be more productive, if it is becoming obsessive, if you want to fit the most possible language learning into the tightest schedule possible, STOP. Take care of yourself. These tips for ‘productivity’ are for people who want to learn a little bit more about organising their time, and are in the right space to add more learning to their life. If you are only defined by what many hours you get done a day, if that’s what motivates you, these tips are not for you. Look after yourself.

And on that note, here’s a confession: I don’t have - have never had - a successful language learning routine. Because of what happened, the only way I can keep going and prevent myself from falling into bad habits is if I approach it sideways, if I pretend I’m not taking it seriously, because I know if I don’t things will go wrong. But I want to be honest and upfront because I know a lot of people read my posts for advice and say that this doesn’t work for me. It might not work for you either. I especially know there are a lot of conceptions of successful langblrs with 7, 8, 9 etc languages in the title - that that we spend 5 hours a day on Anki, fall asleep to Glossika, and so on. And it’s especially important to mention now, because I feel like my language learning habits have only started being healthy in the last year or so - essentially since I started actually enjoying Chinese media. I could teach you how to cram every spare second with language learning, or how to successfully pass an A-level in 3 months with no teachers. I was good (and arrogant, and cocky, and needed bringing down a peg or two). But I won’t.

What I do have are succesful language learning habits. Apart from being a generally more flexible appraoch for all learners, the advantage of building successful habits over a fixed routine is that it allows for learning according to different in energy levels, how busy you are, what you find difficult and what else is going on in your life. Most crucially for me is that it is always a much healthier approach, because what I do is not based on number of hours, or number of units a week, or anything quantifiable that allows me to get obsessive again or frustrated that I’m not doing enough.

Routine is important, especially when it comes to routinising daily tasks. The only thing I have is that sometimes - on good weeks, and once or twice even shockingly on good months - I have a decent Anki streak going. That’s it. I don’t listen every day - I don’t read every day - I certainly don’t do grammar every day. There’s nothing specific I do every day, though I usually rack up a good few hours of immersion or study - to be honest, I fail at Anki probably at least 60% of the time. Everything else - all these tips I have written about - I do as and when. Framing it in such vague terms makes it sound like I must have an extraordinary amount of motivation to keep going, that maybe I’m just lucky to be interested etc, but that’s really not the case. What I have done to keep learning regularly and somewhat successfully (I hope!!) without limiting myself to a routine which I know I will starting obsessing over is tying specific language learning behaviour to certain moods or levels of concentration.

All routine is just habit. Habit, with a ribbon and packaged nicely. But allowing yourself to adapt your learning to the circumstances gives you more flexibility than any strict routine, and is more sustainable in the long term. What building habits rather than a specific routine does is allow you to learn what works best when, what works when you’re tired, and what is best to do when you have energy, or when you want to watch a show, or talk to people. It puts you at the centre of your language learning, rather than framing language learning as a central part of you.

So how can we build healthy habits? How can we utilise ‘dead time’ whilst keeping it light, and fun? How can we adapt our language learning for times when we are tired, and stressed? Or what about when we don’t have time to give 100% of our attention or concentration? How can we identify our own strengths, our own weaknesses, and unite these with our personal goals to figure out what to prioritise in active studying, and what to do when we don’t have the energy for that?

I’ll give my thoughts on all of these over the next couple of weeks, in what I hope will be a comprehensive overview of how best to practice, addressing everything from how to practice speaking to how to start as a complete beginner. If you have any thoughts or interim questions, or if you’d like to add your own experience to anything I have said, please feel free to!

In the mean time -

chenxi out.

#chinese #learning chinese #langblr #depression #anxiety #perfectionism #obsessiveness #mental health #recovery #I actually wrote the next post about building habits first #but it didn't feel right because personally I don't reeeeeeally have a successful routine #and giving advice about that - though I do have a lot of ideas - without acknowledging that seems hypocritical at best and unhelpful at wors #I'm lucky enough at the moment that chinese is my **special interest**#so I just sort of...do it without organising it and without much external motivation #but then again my way of learning is also a complete mess #I just look up words in things I'm reading and add them to Anki and learn them SOMETIMES #there's no structure #I really admire people who can sit down with a textbook and do a certain number of things per week #THAT is how you're going to proceed #I write so much about what I'm going to do and my plans and never ever do them #could it BE that I have adhd? who would have guessed #so many promises and I never do them AHHHHHH #anyway #actuallyadhd #excuse the personal Dramatic Backstory as ever but I feel it's important to give my own perspective and humanise the blog a bit #don't do what I do folks lmao

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nelapanela94 · 3 years

Text

THIEF

LevixFem!Y/N Warnings: Slight 18+ :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Focus. Steel gray orbs re-read the same line for the nth time. Again. How was he supposed to finish all his paperwork by evening if he was stuck in the same sentence? Levi took a sip of his peppermint tea, placed the cup back on the table and shook his head determined to complete his work in due time. But the scene that has been wandering in his head since morning wouldn't allow it.

Stupid Y/N, why was she so careless?

He covered his face with his hands and groaned in frustration. His cheeks felt warmer under his touch. The recently promoted Captain turned around in his chair, stood up, and walked towards the window. Maybe a little fresh air would ease his mind.

He couldn’t be more wrong, though.

The cause of his sinful thoughts entered his field of vision. Y/N had come back from patrolling, her horse walking quietly by her side as she led it back to the stables. At least, she was fully dressed this time; however, it didn't stop his heart from pounding wildly in his chest. His eyes followed her as his mind took him back to the events from early that day. .

After showering, getting dressed, and having his morning tea, Levi had decided to take a walk around the training grounds before breakfast was served. He wanted a peaceful moment for himself, away from the hustle and bustle of everyone's morning routine.

He walked aimlessly at a slow, leisurely pace with only one thing in mind.

A person, indeed.

Y/N had been a scout before he joined the Survey Corps. She, as well as Hange, had been one of the few people who didn't belittle Levi and his friends; and when he lost Isabel and Farlan, she did her best to comfort him. With her positive attitude and kind-hearted personality, it was easy for her to make friends.

As time passed, he developed feelings for Y/N that he couldn’t fully recognized at first. Hange was first to realized he had a crush on her, and could not restrain from teasing the grumpy raven-haired. He had been in utter denial for so long, but eventually found himself thinking of her first thing every morning and last every night. She had become the thief of his thoughts, and it seemed she wouldn't settle for so little. No, that greedy Y/N was taking over his heart as well.

The growing sound of burbling water took him back to reality. Levi studied his surroundings when he reached the source of the buzzing sound.

Has this been here all the time?

The waterfall was greenish-blue, gushing over the rocks and thundering down into the pool like a massive water spout. Foam formed on the surface as the water toppled into the plunge pool. The place was still cool and foggy, since the sun light was yet to bring its joy and warmth.

Levi rested his back against a tree trunk, contemplating the beautiful nature's work when his gaze darted towards a strange silhouette in the mist. With squinting eyes, he came closer to get a better view of the figure, but nothing would've prepared him for what he was about to see.

His eyes opened wide as he covered his mouth with his hands, abruptly turning around. A red shade crept across his face and his breathes quickened.

There she was, serenely and undisturbed, floating face up on the water surface with her eyes closed and arms extended out to the side. The only issue, and cause of his shameful reaction was that the girl was naked. Completely naked.

He hid behind a rock before she noticed she wasn’t alone.

Levi felt the urge to take a peek and make sure it wasn’t his brain conspiring against him, but he didn’t want to feel like a perv. He didn't want to leave either. What if somebody else showed up and took advantage of her. He had to be there to protect her.

His pants were getting tighter, and his eyes looked down at the bulge in embarrassment. The ravenette felt like a teenage boy under the influence of hormones.

Fuck. .

Levi turned his head to the door when he heard the knocks. He straightened his back and fixed the collar of his shirt.

"name and business"

"It's me, Levi"

He swallowed the lump in his throat at the sound of Y/N's voice. "Come on in" he firmly said, doing his best to disguise his nervousness.

She stepped in, closing the door behind her. "Captain Levi, my bad" she offered an apologetic smile.

"Y/N, you know you can drop it"

She walked closer and handed him a small wrapped box with a bow on top. "This is for you. Congratulations for your promotion, Captain"

"Thanks" a small smile drew on his lips as his cheeks slightly blushed.

"I made it in my pottery class, I hope you like it" She swiveled around, taking a look at his new office. It was the first time she stopped by after he was named captain. "Sweet. You even get your own room." She commented. "This place is nice, I think I'll come more often" She cuckled. "Only if you want me to" Y/N whirled around again to see him, with a lopsided grin displayed on her face. He was leaning against the desk, his hands resting on his side.

Her brows knitted, scanning his face as she approached him. "Are you ok?" She asked with concern in her voice and placed the back of her hand on his forehead, making the man jolt back.

His heart pounded hard in his chest; he was certain she could hear the beating sound.

"I...I'm alright" he stammered, giving himself away.

And she finally understood.

Y/N batted her eyeslashes and slightly opened her mouth with the tip of her tongue showing. "I see"

She leaned forward, only an inch keeping their lips apart. "You look so adorable when you're all flustered" she teased flirtatiously, placing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Don't hesitate anymore and kiss me already, dummy"

He was left startled at her words. Did she have the same feelings for him or was she just playing with his heart? He had to find out anyway.

With his hands on her shoulders he closed the small gap, pressing his mouth against hers and time stopped instantly. Y/N's heart beat faster and harder and her legs wobbled, almost losing her balance. Delicately and gently, his peppermint flavored lips brushed hers. She wondered if she was daydreaming again with this moment, but the firm squeezed on her shoulders reassured her it was utterly real. Levi half opened his eyes to sneak a peek at her, just to ensure it wasn’t his imagination toying with his emotions.

When he was ready to pull away, she kissed him back wrapping her arms around his neck, and all shyness and insecurities drifted away from him. His hands traveled up and cupped her face as his body detached from the desk he was resting on, deepening the kiss.

What had started innocent and sweet turned fierce and desperate. Her lips parted instinctively and his tongue began the conquest in the depths of her mouth, demanding and consuming.

He smelled incredible. And she didn’t mean the fresh lavender from his impeccably cleaned clothes, but his natural masculine scent that she found intoxicating.

Her hands slid down his perfectly sculpted chest, then his torso, and only stopped when they felt the leather of his belt under their touch. Heat rose from her stomach to her chest. She wanted more of him. She needed more. Guilt inundated her whenever she touched herself picturing his body pressed against hers. He had stolen all her dreams, not only the sweet ones, but the dirty and raw ones as well, and now they were near to come true.

His lips traveled down her jaw, leaving a trail of kisses, and settled in her neck. "Levi" she weakly said, tipping her head back while his mouth moved along her sensitive skin.

"Huh?"

With her hands grabbing his belt, she pulled him towards her body, grinding her pelvis against the hard bulge in his pants. "Fuck, Y/N" He gasped. How can she switch from sweet to sexy in so little?

She smirked, leaning her mouth to his ear and muttered "I think is the perfect time to show me your new room Captain"

#levi aot #levi x y/n #levixreader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x oc #levi ackerman fic #aot oneshots #snk

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kacchanori · 4 years

Text

—You often go to the Sakanoshita Store for one reason and one reason only: to see the handsome fake blond owner. You don’t even live near the store.

☆ pairing: coach keishin ukai x reader

☆ genre: fluff

☆ word count: 2.4k

☆ warnings: language, smoking, awkward pining (mostly from reader)

a/n: ok literally no words can describe how much i love this man. i think he deserves the world to have more stuff written about him so here i am with a fanfic of my own

“How did my life come to this?”

Ah, yes. A question that everyone would ask at some point in their lives. As for you, that point in time was now.

You stood in front of big glass doors, gaze fastened on the store’s banner that bore the characters for “Sakanoshita Market.” The golden sun above blanketed you in warmth and tiny beads of sweat lined your forehead. You stretched each of your legs, having had just walked twenty minutes to get to the store. There was no doubt that they would become sore again when you head home. After all, your house resided uphill past Karasuno High School. Every time you went home after a trip to the store, your legs would ache but you noticed that after each trip, it became a little more bearable.

For a few weeks now, you had been dropping by Sakanoshita Store twice to three times a week and at different times of the day. It started after a night out with your friends; after a few hours of laughter and singing at the karaoke bar, you and your friends strolled down the streets of Torono, a place that you admittedly didn’t frequent unless you visited your friends. When several stomachs grumbled, the only store close enough to satisfy your group of friends’ hunger was Sakanoshita Store.

And there, you had the pleasure of briefly meeting the fake-blond owner of the store. In true disinterested-store-owner fashion, he had sat behind the counter, smoking a cigarette and flipping through pages of a Weekly Shonen Jump magazine, leaving you and your friends to your own devices. You’d browsed around the shop, periodically glancing at him until your friends were ready to pay for the steamed buns they decided on.

At the time, the only words exchanged were about the price of the steamed buns and the change. Nevertheless, the lack of communication didn’t stop you from developing an attraction to the man, and it certainly did not stop your friends from teasing you about it once you left the store and were out of earshot.

You’d scoffed and denied your friends’ teasing then, but here you were now, standing in front of the very same store so early on a weekend. You didn’t even live near the store and, in fact, there were several stores much closer to your house.

But unlike the Sakanoshita Store, they didn’t have a handsome owner who slicked his fake blond hair back with a headband.

You slid the glass door open and stepped inside the store. Immediately, cool air waved against your skin. You wiped the sweat off your forehead and smiled at the high school boys gathered and seated around the table. Those that noticed your arrival offered a polite smile while the rest scarfed down on steamed buns and bickered, earning a small chuckle from you. You had seen the boys a couple of times that you’d become a bit familiarized with them.

“Hey, keep the noise down!” the store-owner—whose name, you later found out from one of your friends who lived in the area, was Keishin Ukai (even his name sounded attractive)—yelled at the kids. Like the first time you saw him, he was reading a Weekly Shonen Jump magazine. He laid back on his chair with his feet on the counter, but upon seeing you he let his legs drop to the ground. You smiled at him and pretended to browse around the store.

Sometimes you would browse up and down the short aisles, every so often letting your eyes fall on the counter then quickly ripping your gaze away before anyone noticed. Other times you would remain at the end of an aisle, pretending to read the labels and nutrition facts of snacks while looking at Keishin Ukai from your peripheral vision. But you would always end up coming to the counter and requesting a bag of steamed buns because you couldn’t leave without getting something. Today’s routine was no different, except you had actually picked up a few essentials while you were at it.

“Would that be all for you?” Ukai asked.

“Yes, that’s all.” Your voice came out quieter than you anticipated.

“That would be ¥1,500.” You scrambled to find your wallet and handed off the money to him. “Here’s your change,” he said and handed it off to you along with your bagged items and steamed buns.

“Thank you.” You bowed and prepared to leave.

“Come again soon!” he called after you and you turned around. He was looking at you and smiling.

“Oh, y-yes,” you said, stumbling over your words. Your cheeks heat up as you hurried out of the store.

Goodness, you were hopeless.

The next time you made a trip to Sakanoshita Store, the sky was starting to dim and lights around the neighborhood illuminated the streets. Like the last time, there were quite a few high school boys seated around the table, their mouths stuffed with steamed buns, and their notebooks sprawled across the surface. Unlike the last time, they seemed not to have noticed your presence as you walked inside the store. Ukai was not at his usual spot behind the counter, either. You frowned, disappointment bubbling in you as you made your way at the end of an aisle where the boys could not see you.

You began to grab a couple of snacks and drinks for your food stash at home when you overheard a conversation among the boys.

“I wonder when that person is coming back,” one of the boys pondered out loud.

“Who?” one of them asked.

“The one that keeps coming here to buy steamed buns.” Your ears perked up. Paranoia told you that the person they were talking about was you.

There was a sound of the door creaking and footsteps blending in with the boys’ chatter, but you were so out of sight that you didn’t know what was happening.

“Yo Coach!” one of the boys with a boisterous voice yelled.

“What?” You stopped moving. That was Ukai’s voice.

“I think that person has a crush on you!”

“Who?”

“The steamed bun person! I bet they come here just to see you!”

“Tanaka might be right. I was biking once and I saw that they live in another neighborhood. There are a few convenience stores around that neighborhood too and yet they come here.” You paled upon hearing them blatantly expose you.

“Looks like you have an admirer, eh coach?” one of the previous speakers teased.

“Would you keep it down!” Ukai yelled but he only received teasing in response. From your end, you could hear some of the boys scolding the others. “Hey, no noise in my store or I’m kicking you all out!”

Well, shit, you panicked and began thinking of ways to get out of the store without anyone seeing you. But the plain truth was that there was no way you could get out without being seen. You breathed in and breathed out, clutched onto the snacks that you picked, and prepared for a walk of shame to the counter.

The boys quieted down once you were in their line of sight. You avoided looking at them and instead kept your eyes down. You could feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you set down the snacks on the counter. The time seemed to go by painstakingly slow as Ukai rang up the items in the cash register. He cleared his throat and you brought out your wallet. Before he could even tell you the total price, you’d already placed a large bill on the counter.

“Right. That would be ¥2,120 and here is your change,” he said and handed the change and the bags off to you.

You squeaked out a “thank you” and raced out of the store faster than anyone could react.

After that fateful visit to Sakanoshita Store, you avoided setting foot into the neighborhood. The local convenience stores around your own neighborhood had actually started seeing you more than they had in the last few weeks. All because you were too flustered and didn’t want to risk seeing your crush who apparently now knew your feelings for him.

Besides, you had become busy within the last few weeks. Days somehow felt shorter and didn’t allow you that extra hour you had dedicated to walking to and from your house and the store.

At least, that was what you allowed yourself to believe.

The sky had fallen to dusk, shrouding the neighborhood in darkness. Stars peeked at you from the sky and winked, and the moon shone bright silver, serene against the sky. Tonight, you were walking along the streets of the very neighborhood you had been avoiding, exhausted from a night out at one of your friends’ house. The streets were silent save for the chittering of bugs, but soon, a grumble from your stomach pierced the quiet scene.

You looked ahead of you. The street lights illuminated the banner of the very store they had been avoiding. The gentle glow of the lights was coaxing you to come inside the store. For a few minutes you debated whether to come in for a steamed bun or two or suck it up and go home, but your stomach answered for you.

“There’s no way I’m cooking when I get home,” you said to yourself and trudged toward the store’s entrance. When you stepped foot into the store, Ukai was once again behind the counter. He had his back to you and he seemed to be keeping himself busy with another Weekly Shonen Jump magazine. You took your eyes off him and eyed the steamed buns in the countertop food warmer.

Mustering up your courage, you walked up to the counter. “Excuse me,” you said, trying to catch the store owner’s attention. He turned his head to look at you and you swore that the store suddenly became scorching hot.

“Could I please get two steamed buns?” you said, trying not to stammer. Your cheeks and neck grew warm.

Ukai stood up effortlessly and set his magazine down. Not a few minutes later, he already had two steamed buns bagged for you to take out. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been waiting for you to show up. You mostly come at night, don’t you? I made sure the boys didn’t take all the steamed buns.”

He was making conversation with you, and not only that—he was implying that he had been thinking of you. You didn’t think it was possible for your face to grow even hotter.

“O-oh? Thank you,” you said and cleared your throat, “that’s very considerate of you.” Calm down calm down calm down.

He scratched the back of his head and handed you the bag. You looked at him. “Oh, uh, how much is my total?” you asked after a few moments.

“It’s on the house.”

“Really?” you asked, to which he nodded. “Thank you! Uh, I should get going . . . it’s getting pretty late.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. You don’t live nearby either.” He glanced outside before looking back at you and smiling. “Come again soon, though.”

You only returned his smile, albeit an awkward one, and walked out of the store. You made it a few steps before stopping. From what happened on your last visit, he basically already knew that you had a crush on him. Could you really keep going to the same convenience store when your feelings were so out in the open?

You turned around and started walking back to the Sakanoshita Store. Farewell, handsome store owner. This will be the last time I come here. You slid the door open a little and called out to him. “Hey, uh, about what the boys were talking about last time . . . they weren’t wrong. That’s all!” You closed the door and ran off.

“Hey, wait!” a voice called out to you as footsteps thumped against concrete. You stopped running and whipped your head towards him.

Ukai was chasing after you and easily catching up. “Man, you sure can run!” he said when he reached you.

“Wait, what about your store?” was the first thing that came out of your mouth.

He let out a laugh. “You’re worried about that? My ma’s taking care of it. It’s about time my shift ends anyway.” Once he calmed down, he turned his full attention to you. “Did you really bolt without hearing my reply?”

“Well . . . yes?”

Ukai took off his headband, ran his fingers through his hair, and put it back on. Your breath got caught in your throat for the whole duration. Ukai scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Look, sorry about the boys, I told them not to mention it anymore.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Well, no one’s stopping them . . . it just so happened that I was there to hear it, so it was kind of embarrassing.”

“Yeah, it must’ve been,” he said. “To be fair, you’re not the only one embarrassed. I’d say if you didn’t come out, you would’ve found out that I feel the same way about you.”

Your heart stopped. “I’m sorry, what?”

Ukai put his hands into the pockets of his pants. You noted that he still had his store apron on. “You know, other than coaching the Karasuno volleyball team, I’ve been really looking forward to your visits. The volleyball brats caught wind of it and made it a mission to talk about you whenever they’re over at the store. Anyway, what I’m saying is that—” his cheeks reddened “—I’d like to get to know you more. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“That’s . . . that’s more than alright!” you blurted out, not being able to help yourself.

Ukai smiled and moved closer. “Well, for starters, my name is Keishin Ukai.”

“Y/n l/n,” you replied, flustered at how close the two of you were. True, you had stood close to him before, but there was always a counter in between the two of you.

Ukai gestured at your bag of steamed buns. “Are you sure that will fill you up?”

Your stomach grumbled. He chuckled as blood rushed to your cheeks. “I’m not sure.”

“If that’s the case, I know a really good restaurant nearby.” Ukai offered you a hand. “It’s kind of last-minute but would you like to have a late dinner with me?”

You smiled at him and took his hand. “Of course! Lead the way.”

#haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu x reader #coach ukai x reader #coach ukai fanfic #ukai #keishin ukai x reader #ukai keishin x reader

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