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seresinhangmanjake · 3 days

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His and Yours

Summary: When you're told your pregnancy could cost you your life, Feyd demands you do whatever necessary to keep yourself alive. When you decide to have the baby anyway, it creates a rift in your relationship. Only when you go into labor, does Feyd show himself for who he really is.

Warnings/ Notes: Very angsty, but ends on a happy note. Very sensitive topics about pregnancy, abortion, and conversations about potential death. It’s Feyd here people, and we can imagine how he’d be with sensitive topics. Please only read if you understand this. Requested by @tgmreader

**While it is not necessary to read my other work to read this fic, this works also as another part to my "His" series. However, (even though it ends on a happy note) if this content makes you uncomfortable, it is not necessary to read in order to understand any future parts in the series. I know people love them together and that this is a difficult issue, so do not feel obligated.**

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Words: 2950

“Feyd…” you sigh as you watch him pace back and forth. He doesn’t so much as acknowledge you until you attempt to get up from your seat to go to him.

With an outstretched arm and a finger pointed directly at you, he says in a harsh tone—harsher than you’ve heard in a long time, “Don’t you move a fucking inch!”

You plop back into your seat. “We have to talk about this.”

“No!” he snaps. He descends upon you with rushed stomps, his hands gripping the armrests of your chair. You have to tilt your head back to meet his fiery gaze. “There will be no talking about this,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “No discussion. No negotiations. No weighing the pros and cons.” You swallow as a tear builds in the corner of your eye. Feyd groans and pushes away from the chair. “Stop crying.”

“What do you expect from me?”

“To not die!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the vast, empty room. “I expect my wife to do whatever she has to in order to keep me happy! That’s your job!”

You glance down. Your hand runs over the slightly bulbous shape of your stomach. A tear creates a dark patch on the fabric of your dress. A dress he picked out for you. He’d been so enthusiastic about every element related to your pregnancy, including dressing his wife in new gowns as you grew with the passing months. This is one of the first he’d chosen.

“I thought my job was to provide you with an heir,” you say.

“Not at the cost of your life!”

He had almost missed the appointment for more professional matters. Now you wish he had. When the doctor told you that you might not survive giving birth, he gave you a choice: risk having the child anyway or drink a tonic that will terminate your pregnancy while it’s still safe. You knew Feyd’s mind was made up in that very moment. But yours wasn’t. This is your child, a perfect combination of you and the only man you’ve ever loved, and yet, your questioning of what is best has your husband looking at you like you’ve lost your damn mind; like you’re a fool with a knack for selfishness.

“I’m the na-Baron,” he says. “You’re under my authority. I decide for the both of us.”

You shake your head. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t care if it’s fair! We can make a hundred heirs, but there isn’t another you!” he screams. You wonder if the rest of the Harkonnen fortress hears—the soldiers, the servants. You wonder if they fear for their lives because of an outburst that has nothing to do with them. They should. Your husband is likely to go on a rampage throughout the place the moment this conversation ends, should it ever.

When you shrivel in your chair, a crease dents the center of his brow. Feyd returns to you, his warm palms cupping your cheeks, his forehead resting against yours. “You can’t ask me to let you do this,” he says with a subtle whimper. “I won’t ever forgive you.”

“What about my forgiveness of you?”

Feyd jerks back. The pain in his eyes shrinks under darkness. “You have nothing to forgive me for.”

Finally, you stand. “You want me to give up our baby,” you argue. “You don’t think I deserve to–”

“No!” You jump. “I care about you! I love you! Not some thing that wants to take you away from me!”

“Feyd–”

“I refuse to continue this conversation,” he says. “I’ve made the decision. It’s done.”

—

He’d tried everything. He had meal preparers mix it in with your usual dinner drink until the nasty sludge color disappeared. He attempted to have your maidservants slip it into your morning tea, your evening glass of warm milk, and, even more desperately, into your bathwater. However, the only servants close enough to you that he could demand such a task from became primarily loyal to you after your marriage six months prior, and as a result, each one informed you of his plans. Five servants fell to your husband's blade before he surrendered that tactic to attempt anew. But with his final effort, what died between you was nothing other than what had been keeping you together—affection.

With your feelings numb, there was little foundation for your relationship to stand upon. When he took you and made you his concubine, Feyd kept you safe. He did the physical work to protect you in a newly twisted relationship while you did all of the emotional work. You broke down the walls he’d built, got him to open up, showed him that caring for you wouldn’t be the end of the world. Convincing you to get rid of your baby was the hardest he’d ever emotionally worked for you, and since failure was not a thing he had known, nothing was going to stop him.

He didn’t understand that kissing you with the tonic filling his mouth was too far, even for what he’d already done. He didn’t understand that he had already lost so much of your trust with his deceit and that that kiss was enough to scorch the rest of it. You might have left him had you not been able to wash the substance from your mouth before it could do its damage.

When you first turned him away, he threw his fits. He screamed at you and for you every day until you made it clear you weren’t coming to him, but even then, he didn’t allow you to neglect the expectations he had for you. In front of others, you were to act as his wife—stand by his side, attend meetings in silence, kiss him goodbye before his trips to Arrakis—but the larger your belly grew, the less he was willing to have you near.

You don’t sleep in the same bed now. You don’t take your meals together or bathe together or, frankly, see one another. He looks the other way when he crosses your path. His fists clench like he wants to touch you, his Adam’s apple bobs like he’s holding back from kissing you, but his eyes refuse to meet yours, and he won’t go near you.

You know he's preparing himself to lose his wife. Anger, while present, hasn’t been the dominant fuel for his behavior for a while, and neither is it yours. You were furious, but with your baby due in a month, you struggle to bear the loneliness, and the longer he continues to treat you like you’re a plague, the more you miss him, and the more you fear for your child. Who will love it if you are not here? Who will protect it and teach it and nourish it? Certainly not the one who should and once promised he would. And as the days close in, you wonder if he was right. If you made a mistake.

—

I need him—that’s all you can think as your baby fights to leave your body. You need your husband here, and the reasons are far too overwhelming, but you can’t focus on anything else. You miss him. You can’t do this alone. And if you die today, you have to say goodbye. You have to tell him you love him and make him swear to protect your child, or it was all for nothing.

“I need him,” you screech through your teeth with the contraction that hits you.

“My Lady–” one of the nurses begins. Her voice is shaky, worried eyes flicking back and forth between yours and the doctor between your legs who has just reached for another clean rag after discarding a blood-soaked one. “My Lady, the na-Baron–”

“I don’t care! I need him!”

He must’ve been there, listening, because Feyd’s through the door in an instant, and as his eyes lock on to yours, everything else—all the pain and lies—is shoved behind you. He takes a step forward but pauses, momentarily distracted by the wear on your body, before he blinks and continues forward, shoving people aside to get to you. He falls to his knees by your bed and when your hand reaches out, he clutches it tightly in both of his. Too tightly. You can feel your pulse throbbing harder from the pressure on your veins, but you don’t care.

“Feyd, I–”

“Don’t do this to me,” he mutters as tears well in his eyes. The first you’ve ever seen. He didn’t so much as shed a tear on your wedding day or when you told him you were pregnant, but as the first one falls down his cheek, you realize he’s about to make up for every missed opportunity.

You can’t respond. You don’t have it in you to tell him that you won’t do anything to him, that you won’t hurt him, that you’ll be fine, and that you’ll be a family. You’re too exhausted to lie. He seems to know it because he doesn’t make the request again. Instead, he kisses your fingers over and over, repeating words of love that are not often said.

“My Lady, I know it hurts, but if you can shift downwards a bit,” the doctor starts. “At this angle, we might be able to–”

Feyd wipes his eyes and shoots to his feet. “You can save her?”

“There might be a better chance.”

You groan as you maneuver your body. Feyd does what he can to assist, but it doesn’t ease the searing, stabbing feeling at your core.

“That’s better,” the doctor praises.

“She’s your priority,” Feyd says sternly.

You gasp. “N-No…”

Your husband’s head whips back to you. “I’m not watching you die,” he growls.

“For…our baby,” you say to Feyd’s hardened features. You cry harder for the pain of realizing that out of you and your baby, he would still choose you. You don’t know why you expected any different. In the five minutes of his presence, he gave no indication of a change of heart, but it’s disappointing all the same. “P-Please.”

The doctor doesn’t look up from the task at hand but listens for further instruction. “My Lord?”

Feyd stares at you for a long while, his expression unchanged. He doesn’t squeeze your hand or kiss your forehead or brush away the damp hair from your forehead with your next contraction. He doesn’t flinch at your joining shriek. He’s gone, lost in the world of his thoughts until he decides to come back. His eyes close. He grinds his back teeth. His brow pinches and he shakes his head.

“The baby,” Feyd struggles to get out. He pauses before he says, “And then my wife.”

“Yes, my Lord.��

The next half-hour is white-hot, blinding agony. You can no longer move—a statue as the doctor slices pieces of you open to accommodate your child’s position. He doesn’t want to come out. He doesn’t want to leave his mother. You can’t blame him. If you had the same fate awaiting you upon joining the world, you might not rush to leave the confines of comfort either. He has no reason to separate himself from everything he’s known to fall into the hands of a man who does not love him. But his unwillingness to leave you is what will eventually take you from him.

You can feel it. The draining. Of blood. Of life. Your energy is long gone and at this point, you can’t imagine lasting long enough to be saved, even if you survive just in time to hear your baby’s first cry.

“We’re almost there,” the doctor says. His words are hazy as your brain drifts, struggling to keep you conscious. But then you feel a release of pressure, a missing weight. Emptiness. Solitude.

“Save my wife!” you hear in the aftermath, but you’re not worried about that. You need to know he’s ok and perfect and that he has all of his fingers and toes. You need to know if he has a dusting of hair on his head, or if he’s like your husband. Does he more resemble his father? Complexion and eyes and lips poutier than yours? You need to know these things about your son.

But you suppose you never will. Your vision is too blurry to make out his tiny form, but among Feyd’s shouts, you hear a beautiful little wail as your eyelids flutter closed. And that’s enough.

—

The last thing you heard upon your death is the first thing you hear when you wake. And it terrifies you. Surely, you should not be hearing that sound. If you can hear him, then he’s with you, and he can’t be with you because you’re not here. Not really. You don’t exist on the plane he should be existing on. You exist in darkness now, and he was only ever meant to see the light. That’s what you saved him for. That’s what you used every remaining ounce of your will and soul and heart to do. You left so he could stay. So how could he be with you?

“Can you hear him?”

Yes. You cannot see him, but you can hear him. He sounds so much like you remember. His coos are not the wails, but the noises are brothers. You part your lips to call his name only to realize you never got the chance to give him one.

“He’s perfect,” the voice says. “Everything about him.” A tear trickles down your cheek. “I need you to meet him. He wants to see his mother.”

You want to see him, too, so badly, and as you feel the desire, a flash of light shoots across your vision. One flash, and then another. Another flash, and then one more. Brightness obscures every image as your eyes shift, attempting to take in your surroundings. You’re not sure this is better. In the darkness, you can rest. This is simply torturous, and your baby is not even here.

Heat from a heavy, shaky sigh hits your skin. Relief. Lips land on yours for a long beat before finding your forehead. A skull presses to your skull. The breath is taken from your lungs by another kiss. A droplet splashes onto your cheek.

“You don’t ever do this to us again.” When your vision adjusts, your husband is there. “Do you understand me?”

You nod before you can think not to, before you can think that Feyd is not meant to be here, either. But if he is here, then why does he look so happy? Would he really rather the three of you be gone forever than to raise your baby without you? You scold your idiocy. Of course, he would.

“You were out for three days,” he says. “Longest three days of my life.”

Out. Not dead. Not gone.

Feyd helps you sit up. He disappears and then returns with a bundle of fabric. “Look,” he says, smiling, sniffling, and then smiling again. Two of his fingers gently nudge a section of the blanket aside to reveal a tiny face. Tiny nose, tiny lips, tiny eyes. Lashes that rest on tiny cheeks. A much smaller spitting image of your husband. “He’s got your eyes, I promise,” Feyd says, and your son proves it when his eyelids flutter open.

“Do you think you’ve got the strength to hold him?”

You nod again. “Y-Yes,” you say, like it’s your first word.

Feyd uncurls his arms from the baby and settles him into your awaiting ones. He’s lighter than you expected—probably to do with coming a little early—but the weight of him snaps the bits of you that were lagging behind in the unconscious world to the present. You gasp.

You’re alive. Your baby is alive. Your husband is here. They’re both beautiful. “I’m alive.”

Feyd sits back down in the chair that is pulled up to the side of your bed. He swallows. “Yes. Barely, for a moment, but…yes.”

You cuddle your baby to your chest and run your finger down his nose. He’s softer than the blanket that snuggles him. Soft like you rather than his father. He’ll grow strong like the man you can’t help loving, but he’ll have more heart, and that balance will make him a great Baron one day. A great man.

“Do you hate me?” Feyd asks. “For what I did?”

Your head hurts and you still feel groggy, but you’re aware enough to know that you don’t hate him. You can’t hate him. It shocks you that he doesn’t know that, but then again, he’d never done anything like what he did before, and if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t know that he wouldn’t do it again should you fall pregnant with another child. You don’t trust him right now, and there’s only one thing that could ever convince you to attempt repairing that trust.

“Do you love him?” you say as you gently rock your baby.

Feyd glances down at your son. There’s no contemplation. “More than anything.”

“You’ll protect him?”

His eyes flick back up to yours. “With my life,” he says. And you believe him.

You became a mother the second you felt that little life growing inside of you, but you can accept that upon looking at your son, spending time with him, your husband learned to become a father. Had you died, you don’t know what would have happened, but you can’t dwell on that and hope to keep your family together at the same time. He loves the child you made together, and that’s all you ever wanted.

“Then, no,” you tell him. “I don’t hate you.”

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler #feyd rautha fic #dune 2

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pastryfication · 3 days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #haas #haas f1 team #moneygram haas f1 team #ollie bearman x female reader #ollie bearman x y/n #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman #oliver bearman x reader #oliver bearman #oliver bearman x you #divider by cafekitsune

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thinkinginpen · 10 hours

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Just A Guy With Claws And A Bad Attitude

a/n: Second fic in the same 24 hours? I honestly impress myself. pairing: dbf!logan x reader w/c: 4.4k warnings: age gap, smut, p in v, loss of virginity, love, kissing, romance, dirty talk, etc. summary: You and Logan are on a mission in France and decide to take a break at the hotel, eating pizza, and watching a movie when things get out of hand

You and Logan were in France, on a mission that demanded much of you. A grumpy old mutant, Logan was perpetually cranky, but you had your jobs. The two of you were to keep watch for a looming invasion, the kind to threaten mutants. Your duty: Sound the alarm.

The air felt oppressive as you two worked silently, the impending danger a constant, lurking presence. Every so often, you'd steal a glance at Logan, his grumpy face fixed in a perpetual scowl as he scanned the surroundings.

The silence was eventually broken as Logan's voice cut through the air, gruff and tinged with sarcasm. "At this rate, we'll die of boredom before the invasion even gets here," he grumbled.

You gave a small, sympathetic smile at Logan's comment, understanding his frustration but maintaining a gentle attitude.

"Patience, Logan," you replied, your voice soft and kind. "We're doing our best to keep an eye out. I'm sure we'll spot them in no time."

Logan's scowl softened a bit at your response. He grunted in acknowledgement, but the usual edge was missing from his voice when he spoke again.

"Easy for you to say," he murmured gruffly. "You're not the one stuck here without any booze to pass the time."

You chuckled lightly at Logan's remark, amused by his ever-present desire for alcohol. "A little boredom won't kill you, Logan," you said, still speaking gently. "How about we just enjoy the peace and quiet while we can?"

Logan grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "easy for you to say" again, but he didn't argue further. The two of you continued your watch in companionable silence, the tension in the air slightly alleviated by your calming presence.

"I meant back at the hotel silly! We could do our own thing, maybe order some food and watch a movie?"

Logan blinked at your suggestion, a look of surprise crossing his gruff features. The idea of a change of pace clearly intrigued him, but he tried to cover it up with his usual grouchiness.

"Food and a movie, huh? Sounds like you're trying to spoil me," he mumbled, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You couldn't help but smile at his response, seeing past his gruff exterior to the man beneath. "Just trying to keep things interesting," you replied, your tone still soft and kind. "Think of it as a little break before the invasion starts. Besides, you need a proper meal in you anyway."

Logan grumbled again, but it was more for show at this point. He knew you had a point regarding the food - even his enhanced healing factor couldn't run on an empty stomach. Plus, the idea of a break was growing on him.

"Alright, fine," he relented, feigning grumpiness. "But I get to pick the movie."

"I don't mind at all," you responded, a faint smile on your lips.

Together, you and Logan finished up your watch and made your way back to the hotel. Once back in the safety of the hotel room, Logan immediately went to the mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. He took a long swig before turning to you.

"How're you likin' being an X-Man?" He asked as he scrolled through movies.

You chuckled and took a seat on the bed, looking at Logan with a warm smile. "It's been quite the adventure," you responded. "I don't regret it one bit. Helping people is all that matters to me."

Logan hummed, selecting a movie from the list. "That's the difference between you and me, kid," he muttered, his tone more thoughtful than grumpy now. "You've still got that fire, that desire to do good. I've seen too much crap to be that idealistic."

"What's for dinner?" He asks, setting the remote down as he sits in a chair nearby the bed. Meanwhile you were sitting on the fresh white sheets.

"We can order something from room service," you suggested, reaching for the menu on the bedside table. "They've got a decent selection - pizza, burgers, pasta…"

"Pizza sounds good," Logan replied, taking another swig from his beer as he watches you flip through the menu. "Extra-large, load it up with toppings."

"And make sure they throw in some of those garlic knots," he adds with a slight smirk. "Order me a drink too, would ya?"

You chuckled softly and nodded. "Extra-large, fully loaded pizza and garlic knots coming right up. And I'll get you another beer, just for good measure," you said, pulling out your phone to order the food.

Once the order was placed, you set your phone aside and settled back against the pillows, looking at Logan who was still in his chair beside the bed. The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning.

"You know, Logan," you said softly. "You may not be idealistic anymore, but you still care about doing the right thing. You just have a different way of showing it."

Logan huffed, his usual grumpy expression covering his face again, but you could see the hint of a vulnerable look in his eyes.

"Don't go gettin' all philosophical on me," he grumbled, but his voice lacked the usual bite. "I just do what I do, that's all. It ain't that deep."

You smiled softly and shook your head. "It may not seem like it to you, but a lot of us look up to you, you know? Your experience, your strength, the way you never back down from a fight… It's impressive," you said sincerely.

Logan looked at you for a long moment, his usual grumpy expression faltering slightly under the sincere compliment.

"Don't go putting me on some kind of pedestal," he grumbled, his voice gruff. "I'm just a guy with claws and a bad attitude."

A few minutes later, there is a knock on the hotel room door. Logan gets up to open it and you can already smell the scent of pizza and garlic knots wafting in from outside.

"Damn, that was quick," Logan mutters as he grabs the food from the delivery guy and closes the door again, making his way back inside with the goods.

"They definitely didn't skimp on the toppings," you note as Logan sets the boxes of pizza on the table. The pizza is piled high with all kinds of delicious ingredients, and the garlic knots look mouth-wateringly good.

"Looks like they even threw in some extra garlic sauce," Logan says, eyeing the knots hungrily. "Let's dig in."

You get up from the bed and step over to where Logan is sitting. You grab a plate and begin carefully placing slices of pizza onto it, the cheese stretching like melted strings.

As you finish, you smile softly and walk over to Logan, presenting the plate to him with a cold beer by it's side. "Here you go," you say softly. "All loaded up just the way you like."

Logan looks up at you, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He wasn't used to being treated like this, and it made him uncomfortable in a way that was new to him.

"Thanks," he gruffly mutters, taking the plate and the drink from you. He tries to cover up the vulnerability with a gruff demeanor as he takes a bite of the pizza, the flavors instantly hitting his tongue.

You step back and grab a slice for yourself, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as you begin to eat. The pizza is hot and cheesy, the toppings blending together nicely, and the garlic knots are as delicious as they looked.

The room is silent for a moment, filled only with the sounds of you two eating. But it's a comfortable silence, the tension lessened by the distraction of good food.

Once the initial hunger is satisfied, Logan sets his plate aside and grabs the remote, switching on the television. He starts scrolling through movies, looking for one they can watch together.

"I suppose you want something lighthearted, right?" He asks, raising a brow as he continues searching through the selections. "Can't stomach any violence or something?"

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. "I can handle a little violence, Logan," you assure him. "Just nothing too depressing, alright?"

"Fair enough," Logan mutters, still scrolling through the options. He seems to find one that meets the criteria and stops scrolling.

"How about this one?" He asks, showing you the screen. It's an older comedy movie, something light and fun.

You nod in approval, recognizing the movie as a classic. "That one works for me," you say with a smile.

Logan nods and clicks on the movie, starting it up. He sits back in his chair as the opening scene begins to play, his body relaxing slightly as he sipped his beer.

You get comfortable on the bed, your back propped up against the headboard as you watch the movie. The comedy helps lighten the mood in the room, occasionally drawing soft laughs from you and even a few gruff chuckles from Logan.

During a quieter moment in the movie, Logan reaches for his beer and takes a long swig. He glances over at you and notices you're watching him with slight envy.

He smirks, his voice gruff as he speaks. "Don't even think about it, kid. You're not 21 yet."

You pout slightly, realizing you've been caught. "Oh, come on, Logan," you protest. "Just one sip. I'm not gonna get drunk or anything, I promise."

Logan's gruff chuckle fills the room as he shakes his head. "Nice try, kid, but the answer's still no. I'm not gonna be the one who gets you drunk underage." He takes another swig of beer, a smirk still on his face as he continues watching the movie.

You cross your arms and pout slightly, clearly unsatisfied with Logan's answer. "I may not be 21, but I'm an adult," you argue. "I'm allowed to make my own decisions, even if I'm not old enough to drink legally yet."

Logan rolls his eyes and takes another sip from his beer. "You're old enough to be an X-Man, not a barfly. Trust me, you'll be better off waiting a few more years before you start drinking."

Logan glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his smirk growing. "Oh, you're an adult now, huh?" He teases, his gruff voice tinged with amusement. "Just because you can make your own decisions doesn't mean they're all smart decisions, kid."

You huff, still not happy about being denied alcohol. "I'm old enough to fight in wars and risk my life for the world, but I can't have a little sip of beer?" You complain.

"Hey, I don't make the laws, kid," Logan replies with a shrug. He takes another swig of his beer, knowing full well how much it is irritating you.

As the movie continues to play in the background, you continue to pester Logan about the alcohol. But with each sip he takes, he becomes more relaxed and more willing to give in to your persistence.

Finally, he looks over at you with a grin, his eyes a little hazy from the alcohol. He motions for you to come closer, patting his lap. "C'mere," he slurs slightly.

You hesitantly get up from the bed and make your way over to Logan's chair, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in your eyes. As you get closer, he grabs your wrist and pulls you onto his lap, his movements slightly shaky from the liquor.

He looks up at you, his gaze intense and slightly unfocused. "You want a taste, huh?" He murmurs, his voice a low rumble in his chest. He lifts the beer bottle to his mouth and takes a long swig, then pulls you closer.

Without warning, he captures your lips in a kiss, the taste of beer strong on his tongue as he lets the alcohol pass from his mouth to yours.

The kiss is intense and possessive, his hand gripping your wrist tightly to keep you close.

The taste of beer and Logan's tongue mingling together is almost overpowering, and your head begins to spin from the unexpected intensity. Your hands instinctively grip the fabric of his shirt, trying to keep yourself steady as the kiss deepens.

After a long, dizzying moment, Logan finally breaks the kiss, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. He looks at you with hazy, almost feral eyes, his grip on your wrist still tight.

"Damn, bub," he mutters gruffly. "You really need to be fixed, y'know that?"

You look at him, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, your world still spinning from the kiss. "What… what do you mean?" You manage to pant out, your voice shaky from the mix of alcohol and adrenaline.

"You," Logan grumbles, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that? A beautiful, stubborn little pain in the ass."

He looks up at you, his eyes roaming over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and slightly dazed expression.

"Can't just let things be, can't just relax and enjoy the moment," he continues, his voice gruff and slurring slightly more with each word. "You always gotta push, gotta test the limits, gotta get what you want."

You manage to find your voice again, your words coming out in a soft, slightly shaky whisper.

"N-no, Logan," you reply, your eyes wide and fixed on his face. "I just…just wanted a taste. I didn't expect all this…"

Logan smirks, his hand moving up to cup your chin, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his earlier gruffness.

"Oh, don't worry darlin'. I can be a pain in your ass tomorrow morning when you wake up, and the morning after that, and the morning after that," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with alcohol and desire.

His eyes roam over your face again, taking in your flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. "If that's what you want, anyway," he adds, a hint of teasing in his tone.

"Might be a little sore, though," he continues, his smirk widening into a grin. "You up for a little soreness in the morning?"

You swallow hard, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach at the implications of his words. "Y-yeah," you manage to stammer out, your voice cracking slightly. "I…I can handle a little soreness in the morning."

Logan's grin widens even more, his eyes darkening with lust. "That's what I like to hear," he says huskily. "A little pain, a lot of pleasure. That's what you want, ain't it?"

"Yeah," you whisper, your voice shaky as you meet his gaze. "Yeah, that's what I want."

"Good," he smiled reaching for your blouse and taking it off of you.

His fingers hastily worked through his buttoned down shirt before exposing his bare chest to the cold air of the room.

You placed a hand on his thick veiny arm. "Logan..?"

He immediately stopped, sensing you having second thoughts. "Yeah bubba?"

"I-" You paused, "Do you think I'm too young? Maybe I should find someone my own age?"

He chuckled and shook his head, "Like who? A silly school boy? Fuck no, baby. Silly school boys can't do what I can."

"Logan I'm just saying-" He hushed you with a finger.

"Hush baby girl, the answer is no."

With that he closed the windows.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips gently. Of course, he deepened it being as gruff and experienced as he was. But you were young and had no clue how to act. You let him guide you into a bliss.

Your hands moved to his shoulders as your nails dug into his skin.

"Good girl," he muttered against your lips. "A young man can't make you feel like this princess. I can smell your arousal."

He nipped at your lips as he continued working his fingers on your pants. You felt amazing, perched on his lap, kissing this big strong man who could take care of you, as he unclothed you.

With a swift and skillful tug, your pants were suddenly on the floor, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable on his lap. His hands roamed over your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine.

Logan's breath was hot on your neck as he murmured, "So damn beautiful. Young and sweet… and all mine, princess."

You shivered as his calloused hands traced over your curves, his fingers leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, your own hands gripping onto his biceps for support.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice already shaky. "I…"

"Shh," he hushed you, his lips finding their way to your neck. "Don't think about anything but this, baby girl. Just feel."

You gave into the moment, lost in the heady haze of arousal and desire. You surrendered to his touch, his kiss, letting the intensity of the moment wash over you.

His lips were firm and dominating on yours, his tongue delving into your mouth with a hungry possessiveness that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your body, large and calloused against your smooth skin, each touch sending waves of sensation through you.

This was wrong. You knew it was wrong. Yet it felt so right. You were being taken, claimed, by this older, rougher man, and you couldn't help but surrender

The taste of him, the musk of his skin, the scrape of his stubble against your chin as his kiss continued to deepen – all of it was driving you crazy. You could feel yourself getting lost in him, your body responding to his touch like it had a mind of its own.

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, drawing paths of fire across your body. You were on fire, burning for him, consumed by the passion that was building between you.

You could feel the desire building, the heat between your legs growing stronger with every second. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, his hands and lips working some kind of magic on you, bringing you into a fever pitch of need.

You could feel the roughness of his jeans against your bare thighs, a reminder of the difference between the two of you – a young thing, untried and inexperienced, and a man, older and world weary, with enough knowledge to drive you wild.

His hands moved to your hips, shifting you so you were straddling him, your bodies pressed as close as humanly possible. His mouth moved to your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses downwards, his breath hot against your skin.

You whimpered softly as he nipped at your collarbone, the sensation sending another wave of desire through you. Your hands were tangled in his hair, your fingers gripping it tightly, holding him closer, as if you couldn't stand the thought of him moving even an inch away from you.

His kiss was dominant, his touch possessive, but there was a tenderness there, a care that you hadn't expected. It was as if he was taking care of you, claiming you, but also making sure not to hurt you too much.

The thought only made you more aroused, more desperate for him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his, aching for more. You could feel his hardness against you, a silent promise of the pleasure that was to come.

Finally, he pulls back from the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looks down at you. A wolfish grin is plastered on his face.

"Damn, darlin'," he mutters, his voice gruff and raspy. "You're a feisty little thing, ain't ya?"

He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, his grin widening as he takes in your flushed and disheveled appearance. "Look at ya," he murmurs, his eyes roaming over your body. "All messy and needy, just from a little kissin'."

He cups your chin in his hand, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "You like that, princess?" He asks, his tone teasing but with a hint of something deeper in his eyes. "Like the way I make you feel all riled up and wanton?"

You nod, unable to form words, your body still buzzing from the kiss and the way he was looking at you. "Yeah," you manage to whisper, your voice sounding small and breathless.

He chuckles softly, his hand moving from your chin to trail down your neck. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his fingers tracing a path down to your bare chest. “You like the way a big strong man like me can make you feel so small and weak. Like you belong to me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he pins you down on the bed, his body looming over you. He looks down at you with a wolfish grin.

"That's right, darlin'," he growl, his hands on your wrists, holding them down on either side of your head. "You're mine. Mine to take care of, mine to tease, mine to pleasure."

He holds your wrists with one hand, while undoing his belt with the other. You watch with fascination, and a hint of trepidation, as he pulls the belt slowly out of the loops of his jeans.

His jeans slid down his leg followed by his boxers.

His cock sprung free and your breath hitched. "You're getting ruined tonight, pretty girl." He whispered before pressing the head of his member to your entrance.

You whimpered grabbing onto his bicep.

The next thing you knew you were being stretched open by his length, letting out precious cries.

He wiped your tears of ecstasy with his large hands only adding to your arousal.

He pushed you further down into the bedsheets, the back of your head buried in the pillows.

His hips thrusted forward, your back arching as he let out loud grunts.

"You're doing amazing baby," he muttered into your ear. You let out a gentle moan, your hands tangling in his hair as his stubble brushed up against your cheek.

"P-please," you whispered.

A grin spread across his face, "Are you close sweetheart? Do you need daddy to fuck that cunt a little more?"

You whimpered, your nails pressing into his skin. "I-I think so... Oh god- Please just a little more Logan..."

The second you opened your mouth he was moving faster and more violently. Then his hot seed poured into you, and you were ruined.

Ruined on these white bedsheets. Ruined for the first time. Ruined, no longer innocent. Ruined by this older man.

A long gasp escaped your throat.

"Did you enjoy yourself hun?" He murmured into your ear.

"I..." You nodded. "I did, thank you."

You laid down in his arms not prepared for another round for a long while. You were still processing all that had happened.

He got up to take a shower.

After a moment of silence, you hear the bathroom door open and close, the sound of the shower turning on following soon after. You're left alone with your thoughts, your body still humming with the aftermath of what just happened.

You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, your mind swimming with a flurry of emotions. There's a mixture of pleasure, confusion, and a hint of shock at what just happened.

The sound of running water continues from the bathroom, a constant reminder of the man inside who just took you to heights you'd never before experienced.

You're still trying to process everything – the feeling of his body against yours, the way he moved, the way he made you feel. The way he called you 'his.'

You listen to the sounds of the shower, the water drumming against the tiled walls. You can picture him in there, the soap suds running over his muscular, scarred body, the steam rising around him.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the shower stopping, and the bathroom door opening again. A moment later, Logan appears in the doorway, steam billowing behind him. He's got a towel wrapped around his waist, and his hair is damp and tousled.

He grins when he sees you on the bed, sprawled out and still recovering from the intensity of it all. "Hey there, princess," he says, his voice low and gravelly. He walks over to the bedside and looks down at you with a hungry gaze.

"Looks like I wore you out," he chuckles. He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair out of your face, his touch unexpectedly gentle.

"But you look damn cute all worn out," he adds, his smirk growing wider. He lowers himself onto the bed beside you, his weight causing the mattress to dip under him.

He props himself up on one elbow, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in the sight of you, still naked and flushed in the aftermath of their encounter. “You doin' all right, baby girl?”

You nod, managing a slight smile. "Yeah," you whisper, your voice still a little hoarse. "I'm just…processing everything, I guess."

He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his chest. You can feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the heat radiating from him like a furnace.

He nuzzles his face into your hair, inhaling deeply. "You smell good, princess," he murmurs, his voice low and gravely.

"And you're so damn soft," he continues, his free hand roaming over your bare back. "So soft and warm, just like a little kitten."

You shiver slightly at his touch, the sensation both comforting and arousing. You press yourself closer to him, relishing the feeling of being enveloped in his strong arms.

He continues to murmur in your ear, his words now growing more heated. "And that little body of yours….so tender, so responsive, all for me," he whispers, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

His hand runs down your spine, sending little jolts of electricity through your body. "You're mine now, princess," he whispers into your hair. "All mine. My sweet, little thing."

He wraps both arms around you, holding you close to his broad chest. You can hear the steady thump-thump of his heartbeat, a comforting rhythm in the quiet room.

Wrapped up in his embrace, his warmth and strength surrounding you, you feel safe and cared for. The worries and fears of the mission fade away as your eyes grow heavy.

Before you know it, you're slipping into a deep and peaceful sleep, your breathing slow and steady, your body completely relaxed in Logan's strong arms.

🏷️: @vintagemoss

#fanfic #marvel fanfiction #logan howlett #writeblr #wolverine #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing #logan howlett headcanon #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlet smut #logan howlet x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x mutant reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut

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kiame-sama · 3 days

Note

Do you think we can get a pt 3 to the yandere Lilia fic? I need to see how Lilia shows Reader that he's not a child at all 🥵🔥😈. Lilia, in my opinion, is one of those yanderes with breeding and babytrapping kink. He probably wants Silver to have lots of little siblings 🥰💖.

Many hugs from Argentina 🥰🤗💖

What Are You, Twelve? (Yandere!Lilia x Reader) Pt 3

Warnings: yandere, yandere behavior, yandere temper, Lilia's yandere side gets set loose for a little bit, Lilia snaps a little, vague self-depreciating behavior/talk, real talk from reader to Lilia, Crowley is uncomfortable, Silver is uncomfortable, gender neutral reader, implied adult scenarios,

~~~~~~~~

You sat in the Headmage's office with Lilia as he had dragged you to the less than pleased Headmage and demanded the man vouch for him. Lilia had gotten more than a little persistent in his attempts to make you acknowledge his age as anything above twelve. From making other students and even teachers talk about his age, to being a bit more adult in his behavior, Lilia has tried tirelessly to convince you.

Little did Lilia know, you were actually starting to believe him. Ever since you saw the photo album with Silver, you had actually begun to believe Lilia was older than he looked, but you were hoping that continued feigned ignorance would eventually make him give up.

It was one thing when you thought Lilia was a child saying all of these salacious things to you, it is another entirely to know Lilia was centuries old and still doing this. Even as the Headmage vouched for Lilia's age over a cup of tea with the two of you, you still wanted to deny accepting his age. In the time between Lilia's attempts to win you over, you had done some digging into Lilia's past and found yourself feeling rather bland when compared to the Fae.

Why would someone like him be so determined to chase someone like you?

"I don't know... This all seems like a big joke to me still."

"How? After all of this, how? Tell me, (Y/n). You are not a dumb child of man by any means, I know that much. How can you not believe even after all of this?"

His tone was almost pained and you actually felt compelled to be honest with him despite how upset it may make him. He had been trying very hard to get you to see him as more than a child and in some regards you felt badly for making him so distraught and stressed. Granted, he was being quite obsessive and inappropriate with his conversations towards you, but this charade has gone on long enough.

"Truthfully, Lilia," you crossed your legs, trying to hold the Fae's gaze, "the simple power of willful ignorance. I figured you were being serious after Silver embarrassed himself with that photo album. He is a little lost most days, but he is no liar, even at your behest."

"So you were just teasing me this whole time. I can forgive playful or coy behavior, but this?"

"Not the whole time, no. I genuinely thought you were a child up until Silver showed me the photo album. After Silver talked to me, I decided to do some research... into you. Lilia, you do see it, don't you? I'm... not enough for you, and I likely never will be. I'm human and magicless. You're... You. Malleus showed me that you're even in our history books, for goodness sakes. I can't be any more Fae than you can be Human, so-"

The sudden sound of porcelain crunching cut you off in a sharp and jarring way, hearing the pieces crinkling to the floor in the silence that followed. You were stunned as you stared at Lilia's hand, the blood slowly dripping down from where he crushed the cup of tea he had been drinking. Even the Headmage didn't know how to react to the sudden and uncharacteristic behavior.

Lilia was silent for a long moment before he spoke and his voice chilled your very blood. Typically the cherub-faced Fae was excitable and had a certain bounce to his tone and step, almost playing up the child-like features of his. All of that life and tone was gone from his voice and it left a near monotone voice that held all too much venom for how little rage it carried.

"Say another word, and I will come completely unhinged, (Y/n). You have done plenty of talking thus far, now it is time for you to listen." He stood from his chair and began walking towards you, that same look on his face that spoke of horrors beyond his years, "I pride myself in being slow to anger and being quite the trickster in my own right. Startling people is a hobby of mine as is playing the cute school-boy persona as much as I can, but I am a father and have seen many human lifetimes."

Lilia stood in front of you now, making you suddenly feel so very small before the odd being. It really hadn't occurred to you before that moment what others meant when they said Lilia could be intimidating or even downright frightening when he wanted to be. It somewhat made you feel like you were being scolded by a figure of authority, bringing you to lower your head and refuse to meet the gaze of the suddenly intense Fae. He didn't like this and used one hand to tilt your head back so you could stare at him with wide eyes.

"You are one of the brightest and most fascinating humans I have had the pleasure of encountering in over three centuries. And here I have to listen to you talk about yourself as if you are just another face of the ever changing tapesty that makes up this school. Do you not see the things you do? The way you change the very atmosphere of a room with your presence. The way you befriend even the most enigmatic and temperamental of the student body..."

As he trailed off he seemed to become distracted with the way he held your chin, the slightest bit of warmth returning to his expression before it was gone again in an instant. When you thought he was a child it had been easy to talk to and face Lilia, despite his constant attempts at flirting he had still been a positive influence in your day. Now you wondered how you could really have been so naïve to think the wizened being before you was anything less than a centuries old enigma. He had been playing the sweet and bubbly school-boy adeptly and it fooled you all too well.

"So very frustrating to hear you've been playing coy, but- fortunately for you- it hasn't been too long of a game and I can't fault anyone for being less than forthcoming about themselves. I don't find myself chasing the children of men often, (Y/n). It is uncommon, but do you truly think that we Fae haven't figured out a way to lengthen the human life-span for those we have decided to keep? It is an unnatural life as humans aren't typically meant to live that long, but we still can do it."

You were unable to say much of anything to the Fae, feeling vaguely disturbed by the warm and slightly sticky feeling of his blood on his hand. He was not as bothered by it as you were and almost seemed to have forgotten that he has injured himself. The main thing other than intimidation that kept you quiet was the fact the usually affable Headmage had yet to say anything either. Crowley was usually the one to count on for a break in tenson but he didn't seem keen to interrupt the Diasomnia Vice-housewarden.

You couldn't blame him.

"You have no idea the things you do, but I can and will teach you if I must. Regardless, I've been quite patient and now I find myself wanting more than a bit of compensation for the emotional turmoil you've put me through. So, agree to go on a date with me and I will forgive the sleight against me and continue fostering my boundless patience with you."

A moment of silence passed and it was clear Lilia was waiting for you to say something. He seemed more than content staring at you expectantly for you to speak. The only indication of his waning patience was the way his hand moved from your chin to your neck.

"... Your hand is still bleeding."

This seemed to throw the Fae off for a moment as a kind of awareness returned to him, taking note of his injured hand on your throat. A moment of silence passed again as Lilia felt your racing heartbeat under his fingers, your pulse betraying your fear. He withdrew from you rather quickly upon feeling the physical evidence of your fear.

"To think I'm this worked up over something ultimately so trivial. You are such a unique child of man, (Y/n). You can get even my old heart stirring for the first time in a long time."

It was around this point Crowley finally spoke up, his voice pitched up ever so slightly which betrayed how uncomfortable he was in the situation. The other Fae had not expected Lilia of all students to become so enraged at your refusal. It only unsettled him further to witness the clear threat Lilia had made by putting his hand on your throat when you didn't respond to him the way he wanted.

"Well, now that is dealt with, is there any reason to continue this conversation in my office?"

"... No. No, there isn't. Is there? Not unless (Y/n) feels like trying to continue this charade."

You shook your head, trying to keep the surprisingly intimidating Fae calm. Now he knew you had been refusing him based on your own feelings of inadequacy, he could work on making you fall for him. The question was if he wanted to do this with the use of a spell, a love potion, or simply winning you over with his own charms.

~•§•~

"... Father, why is (Y/n) sleeping in your bed?"

"Because, Silver, your papa has finally managed to get what he wants from life."

"Please tell me you aren't talking about making them sit on your face?"

"Well, if you must know-"

"Nope. I don't need or want to know, actually. Forgive me for asking."

"... How do you feel about gaining a few siblings, Silver?"

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere lilia vanrouge #yandere lilia x reader #yandere twst #What Are You Twelve? TWST

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wickedsmille · 2 days

Text

de-aged!Jason and it's tim's problem

Warnings for Jason being a wee little bean (sort of), Tim's super stellar skills with teenagers and the lack of any kind of editing. I wrote this and abandoned it so long ago but discovered it and was like aw, ok, s'kinda cute. :v

It's a tame gen fic with platonic cuddles and vague mentions to Jason and Tim's not so fantastic childhoods.

So. *vague hand wave*

“No. No way.” Tim is freaking out.

He has ample reason to freak out because -

“Who the fuck are you?” Jason demands.

Except, it isn’t Jason because Jason is over six inches taller with over a hundred pounds of extra muscle. Jason is nearly Bruce’s size, not some long limbed, gangly teenager just starting to grow into his shoulders. Granted, the surly scowl and inner fire is all Jason, as is the narrow eyed suspicion. So is the far too large leather jacket and armor hanging off him and the domino barely holding on. It’s a small blessing he’d forwent his helmet for patrol.

“Your worst nightmare,” Tim replies automatically.

Realizing the inappropriateness of what he’s said, regardless of his always wanting to say it, makes him grimace because, yeah, for a while he kind of was Jason’s worst nightmare. They’ve slipped into something approaching civil co-workers since Jason decided to invade Titans Tower to test him via a vicious beatdown but they are nowhere near take care of each other after a magical mishap territory.

At Tim’s words, Jason drops down lower into a fighting stance and squares up with Tim, unafraid and ready to brawl even if Tim is obviously trained because only the rare few decided to go out at night in a costume and mask without the skills to back it up. And Tim is bigger than Jason. By maybe an inch but he’ll take it. It’s still a victory considering adult, not magically de-aged Jason is a behemoth.

Waving his hands frantically, Tim amends his previous statement. “That came out wrong.”

“How does ‘Your worst nightmare’ come out wrong?” Jason spits.

“Okay, tell me you’ve never wanted to quote a movie in the middle of a fight,” Tim shoots back.

Jason seems to chew on Tim’s words before he loosens up and stands though the tension refuses to leave and the wariness remains. “If you make one wrong move I’ll smack the shit out of you.”

“Been there, done that,” Tim says as his mouth gets away from him again.

“Wait, what?”

Later, when he’s alone, Tim is going to bang his head against a wall and smother himself with his own pillow. He can’t wait so long as it makes him forget the misery that is this moment in which he can’t keep his mouth shut and he has a teenage Jason Todd staring him down like he’s crazy. Which, fair. None of the Bats are sane, per say.

“What do you remember?” Tim asks tiredly.

Jason chews over his words, coiled tight and still ready to strike. His gaze roves over Tim before he finally says, “I am. Was? Robin, I think. But I was just living on the street. So, I don’t,” Jason trails off, unsure.

“So you remember some stuff from being Robin and some from before that but not everything?” Tim guesses.

Nodding hesitantly, Tim fights the urge to slap a hand to his head. Why not make things more complicated by not only taking years off Jason’s life but also jumbling the memories he does have? Tim doesn’t mind. This is perfectly fine. Without going over each detail, there’s no way to accurately tell how much Jason does or does not remember. It’s clear he remembers being Robin but not moving in with Bruce. The two things are so closely linked, it doesn’t bode well for what other holes are in Jason’s mind. But it’s fine.

Tim decides not to say anything else and runs his hands through his hair. It’s a good thing Bruce isn’t in town, JL business as usual these days unless one of the big name Gotham Rogues starts causing trouble, or he’d be all over tiny Jason. There is one other plausible candidate to stick on Jason Duty. A candidate already in Gotham and primed for endless cuddles and forced bonding sessions since his newest victim is spending a few weeks respite at the Kent Farm. Dick is going to be ecstatic.

Reaching up, Tim turns his com back on and pretends like Jason doesn’t flinch. “Nightwing?”

“RR,” Dick greets cheerily. “What can I do you for?”

“I’ve got a situation.”

The shift between Dick the Brother and Nightwing the Protector is stark as he asks, “Are you in trouble?”

Hesitantly, Tim hedges, “Well, not me, but. You’ll want to see this. Meet us back at the Cave in twenty.”

“Us?”

Tim clicks off the com and mutes it. Sure, it’ll drive Dick up a wall to not know what’s going on but Tim doesn’t feel like getting badgered into telling the whole sordid tale of Red Robin and Red Hood getting bested by a two bit magician with a splintered down piece of wood and a pointed hat. Embarrassing would not even begin to cover it so he doesn’t fancy having anyone else drop into the conversation, Barbara.

The lesser of the two evils is obviously to let Dick stew in the knowledge that Tim is safe and whole but hiding a secret. There is no other possible resource. None that would save Tim’s already wounded and dying pride.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Jason tells him harshly.

Tim fixes him with a flat look. “I’m not dealing with this, your brother can so you can either come with willingly or I’m tossing you over my shoulder and you’re still coming with.” How crazy is it to think he could easily carry Jason.

Jason tries to stare him down but Tim cocks a hip, crosses his arms and waits patiently. Eventually, Jason relaxes by inches.

“Something happened to me, didn’t it?”

Tim can’t help but roll his eyes no matter how unfair it is to Jason since he can’t remember. “No,” Tim replies sarcastically, again knowing he’s being unfair but the universe started it by getting him into this mess.

“You don’t need to be a bag of dicks.”

“You don’t need to use such language, young man.”

Jason looks like he sucked on something sour as he crosses his arms and hunches his shoulder inward. There’s a faint dusting of pink over his cheeks. It makes Tim feel a little bad. As far as he can tell, Jason is fifteen again, which sends a pang of hurt through Tim’s chest with the implications, which means he has all the false bluster and bravado that comes with being a teenager with the added bonus of being hypersensitive to embarrassment and criticism. He should stop being such an ass.

Heaving a sigh, Tim waves Jason over as he turns his back and starts making his way down the alley to where his bike is parked. Hesitantly, Jason follows but his steps quicken as they draw near and he gets a look at Tim’s bike. The resistance is gone and replaced with awe as he circles the machine despite Tim swinging his leg over and mounting it. Patiently, like a saint, he allows Jason his moment of wonder. It is a beautiful work of ingenuity and power.

Then the seconds drag out. Looking over his shoulder, Tim raises a brow and shrugs a shoulder towards the back of his bike. “So, I did tell Nightwing twenty minutes.”

“And the longer I keep us here the faster you’ll have to drive,” Jason replies without missing a beat, bent over and inspecting the anti-locking mechanism on the back brakes.

Tim grins, small and dangerous. “Alright. I’ll give you a couple more minutes.”

He gives Jason more than a few minutes because he knows the streets are empty and he can safely push his bike faster than he would without an excuse like chasing bad guys or coming to someone’s rescue. It took some coaxing to get Jason on and even longer to get him to wrap his arms securely around Tim but, once they had set off and Tim ran his third red light, both of them settled in for the too fast ride. Midway, Tim decides to show off and skid through a particularly sharp turn. It’s a flawless maneuver and Jason shows his appreciation by whooping loudly.

Tim does it again once they reach the cave. This time, he drifts into a narrow parking spot between the Batmobile and Nightwing’s bike. Jason’s arms tighten around him as they skirt the edges of the Batmobile by millimeters and he doesn’t let go even after they’ve come to a stop and Tim has killed the engine. Eventually, Tim has to pat Jason’s arms to get him off so Tim can breathe properly again. Jason promptly scrambles off at that.

By the time Tim is turning around to face the main part of the Cave, Dick already by their side with a worried furrow to his brow. He blinks once at Jason, looks at Tim, blinks again at Jason then melts.

“Oh my gods,” Dick says softly. He looks delighted and Tim does not envy Jason who’s eyeing him critically.

“When did you get so old?” Jason asks unkindly.

Dick throws a hand over his heart and actually looks slightly offended. “Wow, okay, so I’m not old -”

“Yes, you are.”

“And, wow, I forgot how much of a little shit you were,” Dick finishes fondly.

Jason bristles and looks like he wants to shove his hands in his pockets but the armored cargo pants are hanging too low for him to manage it without looking ridiculous.

To make up for his earlier mistakes, Tim cuts in to take pity on Jason. “Turns out the guy we were chasing was the real deal. I assume you can give Zatanna a call and handle it?”

Together, Dick and Jason both ask, “You’re not sticking around?”

Tim glances between the two of them, bewildered. “Uh, no? I get enough second hand teenage angst from Damian.”

Jason doesn’t look happy about it but Dick does. He nods amicably and smiles widely. “That’s alright, I volunteer myself as tribute.”

Without warning, he moves towards Jason with his arms raised and posed to envelope the teen in a patented Dick Grayson Hug. Swiftly, Jason side steps him and slides behind Tim so he’s blocking any other attempts Dick might make. Some of Dick’s joy falls but he looks undeterred as he lowers his arms and doesn’t move forward again. If Tim weren’t hanging onto some old hurts still and feeling petty, he’d feel a little bad for Dick.

Tim shifts, trying to edge his way over to the computer so he can type up his report and be on his merry way but Jason gets closer and follows him like Tim’s shadow. The entire time, Dick keeps staring. The longer it goes on, the more Jason scowls at him. It is hilarious and, were Tim a casual observer, he would have burst out laughing long ago. As it is, he’s an unwilling participant in Dick and Jason’s detente and caught in the middle as Dick barely restrains himself from draping himself over Jason while Jason looks more and more like he wants to kick Dick in the nuts.

Pointedly, Tim sits down in the computer chair which leaves Jason nowhere to go. He sticks by Tim’s side regardless, eyeing Dick who has followed them like a puppy waiting for a treat. Cuddles with his younger than normal little brother being the treat.

There’s quiet for a few blessed minutes before Jason asks awkwardly, “What’s your name? I didn’t get it before.”

“You never asked before,” Tim says absently as he starts to write up his report. His fingers may go a little faster than usual in an attempt to hurry his escape. “But it’s Red Robin.”

“Like the restaurant?” Tim doesn’t have to look at Jason to know he’s judging. He can hear it.

“Yum,” Tim says flatly.

“And,” Jason starts. Tim can make out Jason shifting awkwardly. “What about your real name?”

Tim cuts a glance Jason’s way and takes in the frown, the hardened edge to his eyes as they look between the Cave and Tim, the uncertainty. He shouldn’t feel guilty. He doesn’t. It’s not like he did anything wrong. But Jason didn’t either. The wannabe mage got lucky and it could’ve easily been Tim drowning in his uniform and overwhelmed by the way everything has changed from what he remembered.

Looking back at the computer and continuing the report, Tim caves and answers, “Tim. My name is Tim. I was the Robin that came after you.”

“So this,” Jason pauses to wiggle in his armor, “was my idea when I passed on Robin?” Tim looks to see Jason giving the guns hanging from hips a dubious look. Right, he probably should have taken away the firearms.

There is so much wrong with what Jason said and has left unsaid. In no universe does Tim want to volunteer himself to answer. No amount of cutting edge tech, unlimited Zesti or epic W&W campaigns could make him handle this conversation.

Tim searches for Dick who’s apparently made himself look busy at one of the closer work benches. His hands have stopped tinkering with the grapple gun he’d been poking moments ago and his back goes rigid. No matter how miffed he is with Dick, he doesn’t have the heart to make him handle answering Jason either. Lying is an option. Lying is a fantastic option but Jason deserves more than that.

Carefully, Tim settles on, “Yes, all that was your idea. You didn’t really pass on Robin but I don’t think we should get into it. I hope you’ll trust me and leave it alone for now.”

The silence stretches on between them, broken up only by Tim’s typing.

“Okay,” Jason eventually answers. “Don’t get me wrong, I trust you about as far as I can throw you.”

“Let’s not test that.”

“What if I want to?” Jason asks cheekily.

“Then we’ll see how far I can toss you,” Tim tells him simply.

“Oh, it is on, Tim.”

“Like Donkey Kong,” Tim agrees. “Later though. I’m trying to finish this and then I need to leave.”

“Didn’t peg you for a cut and run kind of person.”

“More the strategic retreat kind.”

“Sounds like you’re scared,” Jason goads him.

Tim spares him an unimpressed frown. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Jason smiles, sincere and cocky. “Is it working?”

“Hardly,” Tim drawls as he puts the finishing touches on the report.

He stands to leave once he’s saved and exited out of the file. Immediately, Jason’s hand shoots out and grabs Tim’s wrist. Surprised, Tim looks at him and doesn’t fight the tight grip Jason has on him.

“Don’t leave me with him,” Jason mutters.

Tim looks at Dick who has the audacity to plaster on an innocent smile while leaning casually against the workbench. He can see it now. As soon as he leaves, Dick will be all over Jason. It won’t be the regular, suffocating attention Dick focuses on a sibling when he zeroes in on a member of the family. Oh no, it’ll be a hellish combination of guilt and excessive affection to make up for time lost and amend mistakes years in the past. Tim pinches the bridge of his nose just thinking about it.

“Why don’t I drop you off with Alfred?” Tim counters.

Jason brightens but he doesn’t let go of Tim. “Alfie’s here?”

“Indeed,” Alfred says primly from his spot next to where the Cave connects with the manor. “Master Tim, why don’t you help Master Jason out of suit while Master Dick and I see to finding him something more suitable to wear and finishing dinner?” Alfred says it like a question but it’s far from it.

Dick starts to protest but one look from Alfred has him clamming up. He scurries over to the lockers at Alfred’s prompting to change and shower before coming up where he’ll be waiting. Dawlding is strongly discouraged.

Tim can recognize when his plans to flee have been thoroughly foiled. Looking Heaven-ward to plead the universe for mercy, Tim spins in the chair to face Jason. He looks a little terrified so Tim smiles gently.

“He’s right. It can’t be comfortable wearing that and I’m familiar with the security measures built into the suit. Is it alright if I help?” Tim asks him first. Slowly, Jason nods and Tim watches as he swallows hard. Tell you what, why don’t I take the guns and I’ll walk you through everything else?” Tim offers.

“Oh gods, please,” Jason says quickly. His mouth snaps shut after, the flush on his cheeks moving up to the tips of his ears. “I mean, yeah, sounds good.”

Tim bites his lip to keep from laughing and silently disengages the security on the holsters and slips it off. He instructs Jason on how to do the same with the rest of the armor. He keeps his voice level and void of any condemnation or coddling as he does so. Surprisingly, it’s mostly painless. At least on Tim’s part. Jason looks about ready to bolt which Tim gets it, he does. The whole thing reminds him of school locker rooms and playing catch up on social norms in the worst setting possible.

That mildly traumatizing experience over with, Tim slaps his thighs and stands. “Why don’t we grab something to eat and get you into something less,” Tim stops and waves his hand at Jason but doesn’t continue.

Even the compression shirt and pants underneath the suit are too large on Jason. He frowns down at the clothes and says sourly, “It’s not my fault I grow up to be a behemoth.”

“True,” Tim concedes. Again, they’re skating the edges of an endless rabbit hole he doesn’t want Jason to fall down. While he seems to be handling the situation well, no doubt prepped by Bruce for all manner of insane contingencies as a part of his training, Tim doubts a recounting of Jason’s death would go over as well. “Clothes and dinner then?”

“I’m not a kid so don’t treat me like one,” Jason snaps.

“Stop looking like one and I will,” Tim counters. “I’m going to go change but you know the way up if you don’t want to wait.”

Although Tim isn’t expecting Jason to still be in the cave by the time he’s dressed down in sweatpants and a t-shirt after a sorely needed shower, he hurries through his usual after patrol routine. Just in case. The foresight turns out to be fruitful since Jason is meandering around the Cave, pausing to examine something he doesn’t recognize. When Tim comes out from the locker area, Jason’s head swivels around.

This time Tim has no plausible reason for Jason to blush but blush he does as he looks over Tim. Deciding to ignore it, Tim finishes drying his hair and lets the towel sit around his shoulders. He nods towards the exit up to the manor.

The trip up is uneventful. Alfred appears beside them as they emerge from the Cave and holds out a neatly folded pile of clothes. Jason takes them gratefully and ducks away to the nearest bathroom while Tim makes his way to the kitchen. With so few in the house, it’s rare they sit down in the family dining room and, as he anticipated, Alfred has dinner spread out on the nook tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. The food looks delicious, smells delicious, but Tim’s itching to leave and he knows, if he sits down with everyone, he’ll get wrangled into staying.

From behind, Jason appears once more and Dick follows after, hovering as one does when their little brother has been demoted to extra tiny little brother. Jason, for the most part, takes it with grace by giving Dick only one heated glare over his shoulder. Jason comes to stand before Tim then Dick falls into line too. He descends on the food, plating it up and chattering away. Tim indulges him, hums where he needs to and answers any questions Dick throws his way, but Jason stays quiet.

He doesn’t make a move to grab any food for himself which is not Tim’s problem. Jason has shown he remembers living in the manor, being Robin and Bruce’s son, so there’s no reason he can’t help himself. Tim leaves him to it so he can dig around in the pantry for one of the energy bars he knows he squirreled away in the back when he moved out for exactly this situation. As he’s shutting the pantry door, victorious with a couple bars in his hand, Jason is looking at him. He’s eyeing the food in Tim’s hand then looking at Alfred’s spread like it’ll bite him.

It takes a second for the pieces to click together but Ra’s doesn’t call Tim Detective for no reason.

Sidling up to Jason’s side, he holds out one of the bars which Jason takes hesitantly.

“I get it. I can grab more if you want,” Tim tells him kindly.

Jason looks ready to beat him with the protein bar as he hisses, “What would you know, rich boy? Don’t think I haven’t noticed your Bristol accent.”

“Packaged food is safe, right?” Tim asks him rhetorically, his voice cold. Jason’s comment rubs him the wrong way. “Don’t have to worry about something being in it or being spoiled. Hard habit to shake when you fall back on old conditioning.”

Jason flinches back.

“Hey, you guys coming?” Dick asks through a mouthful of food from where he’s seated at the table.

“Nah, neither of us is very hungry,” Tim lies smoothly. “We’ll probably grab a couple snacks.”

Dick looks upset about the change in course, frowning around another forkful of food. Like magic, Alfred sweeps into the room before Dick can protest.

“Perhaps retire to the sitting room? I can have an assortment of snack items brought in. I dare say a calm night in would do this family good.” There’s a knowing glint in Alfred’s eye.

Remembering Dick’s propensity for cuddles and Jason’s resistance to it, Tim bumps Jason’s shoulder as he says, “What do you think? Or do you want to pick?”

“Library, I’d prefer the library,” Jason says automatically.

Alfred smiles without smiling. “Very good, Master Jason. I’ll bring a few things up to you and Master Tim if you’d like to go get settled now.”

“Actually-” Tim tries to interject. Jason will be fine. From what Tim’s learned, the library is Jason’s safe space, he’ll have food to eat and he’ll have Alfred to help him through. Tim isn’t needed. He’s not even sure why he’s being so nice.

It’s not them. With no idea on how to overcome the bad blood between himself and Jason, Tim hasn’t tried to repair their relationship and Jason hasn’t made any effort to either. Really, Tim should’ve left Jason to Dick and Alfred back in the cave. Putting his foot down would’ve had him gone already, sitting in his nest and ordering pizza while going over his active cases.

But Jason looks so lost. He’s fronting, falling on the familiar anger and confidence he’s always had. He’s regressing back into a mindset more befitting the streets now that he’s so uncomfortable and likely feeling cornered. It’s so unlike the Jason Tim knows. Jason’s always been full of piss and vinegar but this softer version? It makes Tim’s heart hurt a little but in a way he can’t ignore.

Like Jason has read Tim’s mind, his hand wraps around Tim’s wrist again and he pulls him out of the kitchen.

Leading them into the foyer and up the stairs, with his back to Tim, he asks, “How did you know? About the food.”

Taken aback by Jason’s aggressive exit and his new role as a tow-along, the truth slips out. “Uh, my parents. They left me alone a lot and forgot sometimes about the groceries. I got sick a couple times from eating spoiled stuff so I stuck to non-perishables.”

In answer, Jason grunts. “That’s fucked up.”

“My therapist agrees.”

“You have a therapist?”

Tim laughs. “Of course not. What respectable Bat does?”

When Jason laughs with him, it shakes loose something warm in Tim’s chest. He shakes away the feeling as Jason pushes into the library. Once they’re inside, Jason releases him. He doesn’t move right away, instead choosing to stand and survey the room.

Working on another hunch, Tim walks past Jason to a closet tucked away in the corner. Throwing the door open, he gatherers as many of the pillows and blankets inside as he can fit in his arms, kicks the door shut and dumps his haul on the bay window overseeing the back gardens. He arranges it all to make a comfortable looking nest. Once done, he nods in approval and gives himself a pat on the back. He cracks open the window as a finishing touch and presents his handiwork with a flourish.

“Easy exit, sight lines to all access points and extra pillows perfect for relaxing,” Tim says. Jason stays locked looking at him so Tim raises a brow. “Are you going to grab a book or stare at me all day?”

Jason jolts out of whatever trance he’d fallen into and quickly says, “Yeah, yep, I’ll go do the book thing with the reading.”

Tim smiles fondly as Jason trots into the shelves to retrieve a book. Tim can hear Jason as he searches for a book. The sounds are not encouraging. There’s a lot of murmured curses, grunting and frustrated growls. Once more, Tim resigns himself to helping out Jason. It doesn’t feel as much like a chore anymore.

“Issues?” Tim calls.

“They’re all 1st editions!” Jason yells back. “Who does that?”

“Give me a second,” Tim hollers back.

Because Tim had a hard time leaving well enough alone as a kid, he knows Jason’s old room has several well worn copies of Jason’s favorites. Ones that could get thrown in a fire and he’d be out a couple bucks to replace it, cheap copies he can use over and over again till the pages are fraying and the spines have separated. Tim picks the lock on Jason’s old room and grabs a couple of the most worn down paperbacks. A young Tim may have been armed with curiosity and a lack of boundaries but he didn’t go so far as to read Jason’s favorites. Definitely not. That wasn’t a thing.

Back in the library, Jason has settled into the seat of the bay window. He holds out the books to Jason who takes them and inspects each.

“Are you a mind reading meta or something?” Jason asks him suspiciously.

“No, nothing like that,” Tim replies.

“So someone just fucked you up real good like me?”

Grinning ruefully, Tim shrugs. “I like to think I turned out alright.”

“Yeah, you did.” Jason clamps his mouth shut after his off hand comment and his face goes red. Suddenly, he’s a lot more focused on the books in his hands than talking to Tim.

Tim’s not touching that with a ten foot pole but it’s still amusing. He settles on the floor, content to wait for Alfred, snacks and the excuse that it’s getting late so he can slip away guilt-free.

“You’re seriously going to sit down there?” Jason eventually asks to break the companionable silence between them.

Seeing a possible out, Tim responds, “I can go somewhere else if you’d rather be alone?” He doubts it since Jason has imprinted on him or somehow deemed Tim a safe person and latched on but a man can hope.

When he looks up, he meets Jason’s eye. The blush is back in full force. “No, I don’t like being alone,” he admits grudgingly.

The something warm in Tim’s chest is back again, stronger than before. It makes his brain soupy, or it’s the exhaustion and need for sleep. Either way, Tim tells him, “Neither do I.”

“So get up here,” Jason demands. Very pointedly, Tim looks at the bay window and the distinct lack of space to fit an extra person. Aggressively opening one of his books, scowling at the pages, Jason mutters, “Just fucking get up here.”

When Jason hops out of burrow of blankets and points at the window seat, Tim figures he can humor him. What’s the harm, after all? If anything it proves the point that although it is incredibly comfortable with the way Tim layered the blankets there’s no way they could both fit. He spreads his arms wide to encompass the fact that there isn’t enough room for them to share.

The humor drains right out of him as Jason steps up to the window, his expression twists together in a curious mix of angry fear and climbs into Tim’s lap. Tim would like to amend that. Jason awkwardly climbs up into his lap. Actually, it is super awkward.

Tim’s so stunned by the forwardness of the actions that all the words he wants to push past his lips get stuck and die on his tongue.

Like this is any old day and not what’s shaping up to be one of the weirdest days of Tim’s life, Jason scooches over as far as he can till his back is pressed against the window. He’s half turned towards the ceiling but tucked tightly against Tim’s side. It’s not cuddling, not really with Tim’s arm pinned between them and Jason doing his best to squeeze back so they don’t touch even though it’s unavoidable. It is tangentially related to cuddling though.

Jason starts reading. Tim starts staring at him blankly.

“You’re shit at cuddling,” Jason grumbles.

As if Tim’s brain couldn’t break anymore, here comes a teenage Jason to bulldoze over the semblance of a higher thinking he’d been able to scrape together. With his mind officially offline, Tim’s mouth takes the wheel.

“I haven’t had much practice.”

Taking Tim’s arm, he pulls it out from between them and sits up enough he can get it around his shoulders. Once satisfied, he grabs Tim’s other arm and drapes it around his chest as he lies fully on his side. He even nuzzles into Tim’s chest then goes back to reading.

What.

“My mom used to cuddle me like this,” Jason whispers, eyes never leaving the pages of his paperback.

How is Tim supposed to handle that? He is not equipped for this. They have officially bumbled, dived head first, into things better handled by Dick. Or Steph. Or Cass. Not Tim. But is he mad about it? He has to stop and think about that.

Tim tightens his arms and scoots down a little to get into a more comfortable position. He’s no expert on cuddling but it seems like something that can take a while. Until Jason is back to his fire-fed-gasoline attitude, Tim can deal with this, he decides. He’s already caved to every other whim Jason has had, has helped him feel more centered when his entire world has shifted, so he may as well stop fighting it so much and get it over with before Jason gets the chip back on his shoulder. It’s like ripping off a bandaid.

Sleepily, Jason asks him, “You keep watch, yeah?”

Patting his arm, Tim hums, “Yeah, no worries. I’ll be the look out.”

#tim drake #jason todd #batfam #batfamily #dc #batman

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totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus · 3 days

Text

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 14/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Less than a week 'til everyone's back on our screens! Eeeeeeee!

Read on AO3

As soon as Tommy realized the elevator was full of fucking witches, he knew he was in trouble.

The bodies of Jonah Greenway and his familiar were still lying on the floor in the hallway—obviously having met their end at the hands of vampires. Any witch worth their salt would be able to tell at a glance that Tommy had drunk witch blood recently. And Evan had absolutely no reason to try and help Tommy explain himself before the witches attacked. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to fight his way out. The power that roiled off the witches staring at him in shock was disconcerting.

Options—none of them good, none of them even really feasible—flashed through his head…but then Evan took the decision out of his hands.

Suddenly, Evan was at his side, his hand curling around Tommy’s and gripping tight.

Suddenly, Evan was screaming a phrase in the strange, lilting language of his casting.

Suddenly, Tommy was enveloped in the white light of a witch’s magic, tossing like a boat on a stormy sea, the feel of Evan’s hand in his the only thing he could focus on.

And suddenly, Tommy was standing in the loft at the coven safehouse.

He blinked in surprise, his brain taking a moment to catch up with the change in events…and still kind of snagged on the feel of Evan’s hand tangled in his, Evan’s strong, calloused fingers fitting against his so perfectly. He almost reached for Evan’s hand again when he let go, not wanting to lose the connection. Common sense asserted itself before he could, though, and he shook his head in amazement.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. He’d known witches could teleport—had seen it happen a few times over the course of his long life—but he’d certainly never experienced it. He turned to look at Evan, a thousand questions leaping to his lips, but froze as he took in the sight of the witch.

Evan was white as a sheet, sweat standing out on his forehead and cheeks, his eyes glazed over with exhaustion as he swayed on his feet. Blood dripped from his nose, painting his lips and chin in a ghastly mask that made him look like a new turn in his first feeding frenzy. The intoxicating scent of Evan’s blood hit Tommy like a fist to the solar plexus, and his fangs immediately ached in his mouth, a powerful longing to taste that sweet, electrifying nectar again sweeping through him. He forced it back, far more focused on his concern for Evan…had he somehow been injured in the fight? None of the vampires had gotten close enough to lay a hand on him—Tommy had made damn sure of that.

“Evan? Fuck, are you all right?” he asked.

Evan blinked slowly and reached up, laying a hand on Tommy’s chest as though to steady himself. Belatedly, Tommy realized how close together they were standing, Evan wavering into his personal space. Beneath the rich call of fresh blood—witch blood—Tommy caught a wave of the dizzying, delicious scent that had driven him to distraction in Gerrard’s mansion, the scent that had become harder to ignore the longer he spent in Evan’s presence. God, he wanted to gather the witch close and bury himself in that scent, wrap himself in it. He swallowed the desire back, barely resisting the urge to reach up and cover Evan’s hand with his own, keep him close.

“Evan? Talk to me,” he demanded urgently, unable to understand what was happening. Evan had been fine…he’d been fine; none of the vampires had touched him, the witches hadn’t been able to get a cast off before Evan had gotten them out of there. What was happening?

Evan’s brow furrowed slightly and he went to take a step back. If possible, his face went even whiter as soon as he moved, and he abruptly sagged forward. For the second time in as many days, Tommy found himself lunging to catch Evan before he could hit the floor.

“Whoa, okay, okay, easy sweetheart, easy, I’ve got you. Let’s just…” Evan hadn’t quite lost consciousness, but he stumbled drunkenly over his own feet as Tommy helped him over the short distance to the couch, gently lowering him to slump back against the cushions. “Just keep your head tipped back,” he advised, not really sure if Evan was tracking anything that was happening as he hurried over to the kitchen.

He had no use for ice packs or bags of frozen vegetables, but he grabbed the lone dishtowel that had somehow spawned by the sink (he thought it might have already been here when Alonzo bought the building) and ran cold water over it. He wrung it out and more or less vaulted back over to the couch, where he crouched down in front of Evan and used one corner of the cloth to gently wipe the worst of the blood away from the witch’s face. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, but Evan’s face was still worryingly pale as he folded the bloodied corner over a couple times and then pressed the cool compress against Evan’s nose.

“You with me?” he asked, and frowned when it seemed to take a minute for Evan’s hazy blue eyes to focus on him. He listened, finding Evan’s heartbeat a little fast for his liking, but not thready or weak.

“Wha—yeah. Yeah, m’fine,” Evan mumbled, closing his eyes before reaching up to clumsily paw at the compress. Tommy let him take over holding it against his face, his hand hovering over Evan’s for a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to drop it.

“This is a very different interpretation of ‘fine’ than I’m familiar with, not gonna lie,” he said carefully. Evan sighed, blinking his eyes open again to fix him with a half-hearted glare. Tommy held his hands up in mock surrender. “Just saying.” He rose and walked back over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. Behind him, he heard Evan sigh again.

“I thought you said your friends just wanted us to see if Greenway was at the temp agency,” he said, an accusatory edge to his voice.

“They did.”

“So what the hell was a cleaner crew doing there?” Evan demanded.

“I’m sorry, what? What makes you think those witches were a cleaner crew?”

By the look on Evan’s face, it was plain he thought that was a stupid question. “They had the SoCal high coven sigil on their jackets. Hell, they were in a uniform in the first place! An investigation would’ve been two, maybe three witches, and they sure as hell wouldn’t be wearing sigils. That was for any witch in the area that sensed major magic going down and went to see what was up.”

That…made a disturbing amount of sense, actually. “Great. So a team of witches specializing in disappearing anything that could jeopardize our secrecy saw you and me standing over a murder scene.” Evan pressed his lips together, looking far more scared than Tommy knew he’d be willing to admit to. “Howie wouldn’t have done that,” he said.

“What about his coven leader?” Evan countered immediately, and Tommy inclined his head, acknowledging the point.

“I don’t know Athena Grant—but I know their coven’s reputation, and I’ve known Howie for a decade. He…I know you don’t believe it, but we really are friends. Or as much as a witch and a vampire can be friends. He wouldn’t have set me up. And even if Sergeant Grant would have, I believe Howie would have given me a heads up.”

Evan didn’t look convinced at all—which was fair, honestly—but subsided. He leaned back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “I need to go back and get the Jeep,” he said at length, a thread of nervousness running through his voice.

“You and I both know that’s not a good idea. I get you’re attached, but I’ll pay to get it out of impound once it’s towed and—”

“No, you don’t get it. If the high coven team figures out it’s mine, they can use it to track me.”

“One of those locator spells?” Tommy guessed, and Evan nodded.

“The only way to focus the spell is to have something of the witch’s—hair, clothes, jewelry, anything they have a personal attachment to.”

“Fuck. All right—I need to call Howie anyway. Let’s see if Grant can do anything about the Jeep discreetly.”

“You’re trusting them?”

Tommy thought about it—really thought about it—before slowly nodding. “I don’t think we have much choice. This…I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but whatever it is, it’s getting bigger by the second. Even if Grant told the SoCal high coven everything we suspected about Greenway, that’s all she had. Suspicions. I’m guessing these cleaner crews don’t roll out for minor inconveniences?”

Evan snorted bitterly. “No. No they do not.”

“There you go. Trust me, kid, in my experience the people in power don’t start sending out their big dogs unless they’re trying to keep a lid on a huge explosion.”

“So if you really don’t think your friends set us up—”

“I don’t,” Tommy interrupted quietly. “I really, really don’t.”

“Then whatever’s going on involves someone high enough up to sic a cleaner crew on us. And that’s not even counting the vampires that killed Greenway.” Evan’s voice was flat, a tired sort of dread lurking under the words. Tommy could relate.

“Which means whatever Greenway was trying to accomplish by sending you to Gerrard, it also involves someone high up in the witches’ hierarchy in LA. Maybe even on the high coven itself.”

Tommy had his suspicions about that, actually—a picture trying to form in his mind that he really, really did not want to examine too closely. If his slowly growing suspicions were correct, they were in a lot more trouble than he was confident they could deal with…and Evan was somehow at the center of it.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Howie’s number, only mildly surprised when the witch picked up halfway through the first ring.

“Tommy, please tell me you found something at that office,” Howie said without preamble as soon as the call connected.

“Greenway and his familiar are dead,” Tommy said, wishing they had time for him to soften the blow a little. “He was killed by vampires.”

Howie made a soft sound on the other end of the line, something between a groan and a gasp, and he heard a woman’s voice swear violently. “Damn it. Victor, too? We felt the coven bonds go dark a little while ago, but we were hoping…shit we were hoping he’d severed them himself. Fuck!”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said automatically…although he really didn’t give a flying fuck what had happened to Greenway. He’d set Evan up to die. The bastard could rot in hell for all Tommy cared. “I know that’s not the news you were hoping for.”

“No shit,” Howie muttered. “Okay. Okay, did you find anything? Any clue who killed him, what coven they belong to?”

“I didn’t recognize any of them. They knew who I was, though. Seemed to think I knew who they were working for, but I have no idea.”

“Wait, you saw them?” Howie asked incredulously. There was a screech of tires over the line and then the scuffling sound of dead air.

“Kinard?” a woman’s voice, smooth and authoritative, came over the line.

“Sergeant Grant, I presume?”

His eyes fell on Evan, still holding the compress against his face as he rolled his head towards Tommy. Tommy didn’t like the fear he could read lurking in those sky-blue eyes, uncomfortably aware of just how alone Evan had to feel right now. Tommy had his coven, his friends and family. Alonzo would be furious with him when the coven master found out just how far Tommy had waded into this mess, but Tommy knew Alonzo would help as much as he could without compromising the coven. Push come to shove, Sal and Lucy would have his back. He had people.

Evan? Evan had…Tommy.

That was it. The only person in this city who seemed to give a damn about Evan’s wellbeing in this mess was a vampire he’d known less than twenty-four hours.

“Tell me everything,” Grant ordered, drawing him out of the turn his thoughts had taken.

Evan closed his eyes again, just listening as Tommy gave Howie and his coven leader a brief rundown of what they had found at the temp agency office. He didn’t think he was imagining the sharp inhalation of surprise when he got to the witches appearing (and the slightly hysterical edge to Howie’s much louder exclamation of, “What the fuck?!” went a long way toward reassuring Tommy he’d been right in assuming Grant and Howie hadn’t been responsible for that) and Evan’s assessment that it was a cleaner crew.

“How the hell did you get out of there?” Grant asked when he was done, suspicion thick in her voice. Tommy couldn’t say he blamed her. She had to know he was powerful, but she had no idea he’d have the advantage of witch blood for at least another several days and what he’d just described had been pretty long odds.

“Evan’s magic,” he said, seeing no reason to lie to them, but a bit unwilling to give out details they hadn’t asked for. If everything Josh had learned about Evan was true, Tommy had no doubt he’d want to keep the secret of his true identity from Howie and Grant., At this point in time, it was unnecessary information, anyway.

Grant hummed, low in her throat. “I thought Chim said he’d been banished?”

“His power hasn’t faded, yet,” Tommy replied, giving nothing away in his words or his voice. Athena Grant commanded a lot of respect in LA, even from the vampire community, but Tommy had been playing this game for a very long time. She wasn’t going to get anything out of him that he wasn’t willingly giving up.

“Have you had a chance to look at what’s on that flash drive you mentioned?” she asked instead of pursuing questions about Evan’s magic.

“I’d rather wait ‘til you can take a look at it, honestly. If it’s encrypted or password-protected or something, I don’t want to risk damaging what’s on it. And I’d rather not involve my coven any more than I have to.”

“Understandable. All right. Where are you willing to meet us?”

He looked over at Evan again, watching as he gingerly pulled the compress off his face and twitched his nose a couple times, relief flitting across his face when no fresh blood poured down. The witch was still looking pale and exhausted, and Tommy wondered how much use he’d be able to be in another confrontation. He chewed on the inside of his cheek a moment before rattling off an address not too far from the loft.

“And that is?” Grant asked, her tone carefully neutral.

“Personal property. Not connected to my coven in any way. Probably not even on any of the digital records in the county, unless that story Channel 8 did about city council misusing funds set aside for digitizing files was wildly exaggerated.”

Tommy had dozens of properties in the city and all over the world—most of them places he hadn’t set eyes on in years or decades. Some he used as investments and income, turning their management over to rental agencies and real estate trusts (many of which were run by vampires for vampires), but others he kept as private bolt holes and safehouses. It was a habit leftover from lifetimes ago, formed in days when being a vampire was much more dangerous than it was now, but he’d never been able to let it go. The bungalow he wanted to meet at was one of the few places he kept up with personally, managing its upkeep on his own and often staying there for a few days or weeks when he needed a break from life at the coven house.

“If we’re meeting on your territory, I’m bringing another member of our coven,” Grant said after a long pause. She did not sound like she was asking permission.

The place itself was not especially defensible—but he knew the surrounding streets and neighborhoods like the back of his hand, including several abandoned sections of sewer tunnel and old wells that would make excellent hiding places and were almost guaranteed not to be on any maps. And just because the house was not overly defensible did not mean he didn’t have defenses in place. If worse came to worst, he was reasonably certain he’d be able to hustle himself and Evan out and disappear. Tommy cracked his neck and raked a hand back through his hair, considering.

“Acceptable,” he said eventually. “Also, we had to leave Evan’s car behind in a parking garage on 12th street. Blue Jeep. Think you can do anything? Evan said someone looking for us could use it as a focus for a locator spell.”

“Damn. He’s right. I’ve got a couple of people down at that precinct that owe me some favors. I might be able to send someone to get it…it’ll have to be impounded, but I can bury it in paperwork until you can pick it up.”

“That’ll be fine. I’ll handle any fees or fines. Give me an hour?”

“See you then,” Grant agreed, and ended the call without another word. Tommy decided he liked her.

He slid his phone back in his pocket and picked up the abandoned glass of water. “You gonna be okay to head out of here again?” he asked, trying not to let on how worried he actually was. He’d never seen magic affect a witch like this—he didn’t understand what had happened.

Evan sat up gingerly, pressing his fingers against his temples and rubbing slow circles for a moment before looking over at Tommy. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Mmhmm, very believable, what with the fainting and all,” Tommy deadpanned. Evan blinked and shot him an annoyed glare—though his gaze was much clearer, so Tommy chose not to take offense.

“I didn’t faint,” Evan said, a touch petulantly.

“You absolutely did. Swooned like a Victorian debutante with the vapors.” He risked a little teasing and was rewarded when Evan actually let out a short chuckle.

“Shut up, Victorian debutantes all had arsenic poisoning and their houses were full of carbon monoxide.”

“That’s…a surprisingly accurate description, actually. Huh.” He walked over and handed Evan the glass of water. He was pleased to note—though he didn’t remark on it—that Evan took it with no hesitation, draining half the glass in one long gulp.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, toying with the glass briefly before he licked his lips and looked up at Tommy. “It’s because I don’t have a coven bond anymore,” he said quietly, as though that explained anything for Tommy. He seemed to realize that a second later and elaborated. “Our coven bonds help us cast more complicated spells, let us, I dunno, spread the strain out. Without a coven bond, it’s just me channeling and directing the magic.”

Tommy stilled. “Your magic can hurt you?”

Evan just shrugged, his eyes going dark and distant. “Kind of a natural failsafe for banished witches, I guess. It takes a while for our magic to fade completely. The kind of people who get banished, you don’t want them to be able to cast whatever kind of spell they want. I really would’ve been fine, but teleportation magic is fucking hard even with a coven bond. Never mind trying to teleport two people.” He raised the glass to rest it against his forehead for a few moment, before clearing his throat. “Don’t suppose you have any Tylenol around here?” he asked, and Tommy frowned, shaking his head apologetically.

“Sorry, we don’t have much use for it.” He knew Lucy had brought Lena to the apartment she claimed as hers in the building sometimes (a fact Tommy appreciated…they all respected each other’s privacy, but vampiric senses made privacy pretty much an illusion by default, and Lena and Lucy were, ahem, very enthusiastic about each other), but he doubted they spent enough time here for there to be minor first aid supplies.

Evan grunted an acknowledgement and set the glass down on the coffee table next to the folded up, bloodied dishtowel. He shot Tommy a wary look. “Is this gonna be a problem? Like…should I go throw it away somewhere else? I’m kind of surprised you’re not all…” He trailed off and made a weird face, hooking one of his index fingers in front of his mouth in a terrible—yet somehow adorable—imitation of a fang.

Tommy let out a snort of laughter. “Snot doesn’t exactly make a great chaser, Evan,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “Besides. Most of us can control ourselves around minor injuries just fine, unless we’ve just risen.”

“So what’re all those stories about blood frenzies and feral vampires?” Evan asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, it can take a century or two before your control is good enough that you can be around lots of blood. If there was, like, arterial spurt involved, I’d have to hold Lucy and a few others in our coven back, no matter how they felt about the person bleeding.” It was Tommy’s turn to shrug. “Nature of the beast.” An uncomfortable look flashed across Evan’s face, and Tommy tilted his head. “So how worried do I need to be while you’re casting? Much as I hate to say it, I don’t think that was our last confrontation before all this is over.”

The discomfort shifted into something cagier, and Evan’s eyes darkened further. “Most of the time, I’ll be fine. I end up with a headache, maybe I’ll get a little dizzy. The really complex spells are harder, but it’s not going to, like, kill me.” He narrowed his eyes, his chin lifting defiantly. “I can pull my weight, Kinard.”

“I know you can,” Tommy said immediately, and it wasn’t even really a placation. Evan was a damn powerful witch, and clearly he’d been trained well by someone at some point. He’d killed more of the vampires that had attacked Greenway than Tommy had. “I’m just asking how I can help you while you’re doing it.”

Evan startled at that, a confused frown scrunching his face. “Oh. Uh…nothing really. I just—I’ll be fine once I eat some carbs and get some sleep?”

“Okay. Carbs we can do on the way. Do you want to grab another shirt before we head out?” Tommy tipped his chin towards the smears of blood along the collar of the hoodie he’d “loaned” Evan earlier, and the witch seemed to notice it for the first time.

“Oh…oh! Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Help yourself to anything in the dresser upstairs. Maybe grab a couple things to change into; no telling how long this is going to take.”

Evan blinked at him, the wariness fading from his expression to be replaced by the same vague puzzlement Tommy had been seeing more and more often. Slowly. Evan levered himself off the couch, not saying anything when Tommy stepped a bit closer, reaching out a hand to hover over his shoulder if he needed help. The witch steadied himself quickly, though, and sidled past Tommy to head to the stairs, that same air of confusion still clinging to him.

Tommy watched him go, and then pulled his phone out again, debating on whether he should update Alonzo and Josh before or after he got a look at whatever was on Greenway’s flash drive. Even as he did so, a text popped up on the screen, from Howie.

Athena just got a call notifying her about Jonah and Victor. You need to be careful, Tommy. Make sure you’re not followed.

Tommy frowned, tapping out a quick reply. Why? What else did they say?

The high coven is sending out a message to all coven leaders later tonight, apparently. Declaring a rogue witch in the city, working with a vampire. They’re pinning Jonah’s murder on you two.

#911 abc #911 tv show #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #buck x tommy #tommy kinard #bucktommy #mywriting #shameless self promotion #tevan fic #tevan #kinley #bucktommy fic #firepilot #firebeast

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sufferu · 1 day

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Honestly the reaction ficlets are more of a setup for. Something else.

Reaction Fic Aftermath: The Inn

“Subaru, maybe this isn’t—”

“—and we have arrived!” Subaru enthusiastically slammed the door open. “Bonjour! Hello! The Emilia Camp is here, so let the meeting commence!”

“S-Subaru?!” Ferris shrieked, his eyes widening. He was sitting in one of the chairs holding a cup of tea, which had now spilled down his front. He didn’t seem to care. “Subaru, what— WHY ARE YOU HERE?!”

“What are you doing here?” Crusch demanded, quickly standing up. She turned to face Emilia. “What is he doing here?” she snapped. “Why did you let him come here in this state?”

“I—” Emilia stammered.

“We’re here because of Anastasia’s great deal, of course!” The merchant in question was sitting right across from the healer and his Lady, all three of whom had startled violently at his introduction — as had Wilhelm, Ricardo, and the Pearlbaton triplets, all of whom had been standing over their shoulders. Wilhelm was staring at him with a horrible look on his face. Subaru grinned at him, and felt his stomach tie itself into a knot when that look only deepened in response. “I know we got sidetracked with — uh — but you didn’t forget the whole purpose of this meeting, right? Emilia-tan needs her father figure back after all, and you said you could hook us up with a lead on a good crystal he could snuggle himself back to sleep in! We’re a little later than planned but now that we’re here, why don’t we get right—”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Ricardo interrupted, voice harsh in a way that Subaru realized he had never heard from him before. A hand clasped around his arm, gently but firmly. “We need to talk about what just happened, and you absolutely should not be here for that. Now come on, we’ve got some spare bedrooms where ya can lie down —”

“I don’t need rest!” Subaru objected loudly, shaking him off. “And we don’t need to talk about it. I can sum up the major talking points right now! It was a really weird experience, I— I’m a lot less useful than everyone thought, and let’s all hope it doesn’t happen again! There, done!”

“That is not—!”

“Why is Subaru even here?” Wilhelm demanded. Subaru flinched at the pointed lack of a ‘-dono’ suffix. It made sense that the Sword Demon had retired the nickname after the events of — of — but it still stung, much more harshly than Subaru would have anticipated. It made him want to cry. “Lady Emilia, you must have known that we would need to talk about — why did you bring him here for that?”

“I— I thought that leaving him out of it would be mean!” Emilia stammered. “Nobody likes being talked about behind their back, right?“

“He is clearly in no state to participate in any discussion right now, and especially not about this!” Crusch retorted. “Allowing him to come to this meeting was cruel, and I must insist—”

“Hey, that’s pretty rude!” Subaru broke in, voice high-pitched in an attempt to sound as cheerful as possible. “I’m right here, aren’t I? And I can make my own decisions, you know: picked out my own outfit this morning and everything—”

“Subaru, stop talking,” Ferris snapped, visibly frazzled. “This isn’t the time for jokes, just—”

“Who said I was joking? My style might not be the same as yours, but I think I’m very fashionable, thank you very—”

“Subaru?!” a new voice shrieked. Subaru spun around to see Felt in the doorway, accompanied by an equally-horrified Reinhard. Behind them, Rachins had already started to back away. “What are you— you shouldn’t be here! Isn’t that common sense?!”

Subaru flinched, but tried to play off the growing hurt. “You wound me!” he crowed, hand to chest in a theatrical pose. “But I forgive you, because clearly you are confused from the long journey and still a little jetlagged—”

“What is— Subaru, don’t sidestep this! Get out!”

“There’s really no need for— I can behave myself just fine! I know I was horrible last year but I’ll definitely do my best today, so it’ll be—”

“That’s not what I—!”

“Lady Felt is right, Subaru,” Reinhard insisted, stepping forward. “Why don’t we just—”

“I don’t need to ‘just’ anything! Why would you half-ass your work when you can give it your best—”

“Natsuki-kun.”

“—And yes, that is I! Natsuki Subaru!” Subaru spun to face the speaker, finger guns at the ready. “How can I help you, Lady Anastasia? You need some sewing advice, or — well there’s not much I can do, but I promise to try my—”

“Natsuki-kun.” Anastasia’s voice was gentle, amidst all the shouting. “Ya don’t need to do this.”

Somehow it was that gentle tone that came the closest to making Subaru burst into tears on the spot. He could feel himself starting to shake, and took a step back. “I…” He desperately fought back his tears: he couldn’t cry! Not here, not now— not after THAT, when they already thought so lowly of him— and had every reason to think— “I-I…”

“…and we could probably stand to— you’re HERE?!”

Subaru relaxed very slightly at the sight of the grape-haired asshole, who had only just walked in alongside his — his little brother, right, the one who had come to deliver the initial invitation. There, this could work. He’d just provoke him like he always does and then things would go back to normal.

“Hey, asshat, how’s the past year been?” he tossed out immediately. “Met your little brother the other day, I think I like him more than you actually—”

“Subaru, stop that,” Ricardo said immediately. “This isn’t the time, just—”

“You beat up any more peasants while I was gone? Hope you didn’t, that’s not a great look you know—”

“Will ya please just calm down a second here—!”

“I mean what— what would your pa— your parents think of you for doing something like—”

“No!” Ricardo snapped. Subaru flinched away from him violently. “Do not finish that sentence! Yer behaving very badly right now, kid— you need to leave before you say something you won’t be able to take back—!”

“Captain, that’s too harsh!”

“Yer gonna freak him out even—”

“What are you talking about?” Subaru tried to laugh off. He felt dizzy. “I’m not — it’s the rest of you who are— freaked out right now—”

“Will one of nya PLEASE take care of nyer knyight already?!” Ferris cried, turning to face the other members of the Emilia Camp, all various shades of lost and panicked. “If he won’t leave on his own, then—”

“On it— c’mon, Captain, let’s just—”

The hand on his bicep was gentle, but for a moment it felt like the world’s most dangerous vice grip had threatened to close around his arm. Subaru recoiled violently. “Don’t—!”

Garfiel flinched away, eyes wide with hurt. Subaru felt a stab of guilt and immediately tried to laugh it off. “Wait— Garf, you just startled me, that’s it! It’s not— It’s not like I thought —”

“Will one of nyew who DIDN’T try to kill him— Oh crap I think that’s pretty much all of nya isn’t it—”

“That’s half the people in this room Od damn it—”

“It’s not like it ever really— you weren’t even supposed to KNOW about this, so can’t we just—” Subaru wanted to cry. He really, really wanted to cry. “It wasn’t that big a deal and it never happened! So just drop it already so we can go back to—”

“Subaru that is a VILE suggestion—!”

“Why do any of you even care?!” Subaru didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. He was talking too fast. His blood was roaring in his ears. He was going to pass out. “You didn’t— didn’t care before, so why is it suddenly—” A flash of anger suddenly cleared his panicked mind, like a bolt of lightning through a stormcloud. “All of you are just faking this!”

Ferris stared at him, mouth agape. “WHAT?!”

“Yeah, okay, I get it! You don’t actually give a shit! This is a ploy to get us to— to step out of the election, or give up something important, or—”

“Subaru, sto—!” Emilia’s voice barely reached his ears.

“Well it’s not gonna work! I already know that sort of trick and I’m calling your bluff now, so you’ll just have to find a way to fight us fair and—”

“Natsuki Subaru, that is ENOUGH!”

Subaru squeaked, finally falling silent. The rest of the room fell quiet as well. Julius rarely got angry enough to raise his voice like that, but when he did, people listened.

A look of guilt briefly flashed through the man’s eyes before hardening into — something else. A large hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled, hard, with Subaru finding himself forced to stumble along as his senior knight pulled him further into the inn.

“I am removing my junior from this situation,” he told Anastasia, bowing briefly and slightly as he moved past her. “Please feel free to start without us.”

“Thank you, Julius,” Anastasia said. He saw Crusch mutter something to Ferris, who bowed wordlessly before starting after them, but Subaru was pulled out of the room entirely before the knight could catch up.

“Now,” he heard Anastasia say as they rounded the corner, out of sight. Her voice suddenly sounded much colder. “I think we need ta have a bit of a talk…”

#my ficlets #watching him die again and again

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forestfiresandfics · 3 days

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Loyalty

Loyalty is of course a central motif in 3rd life, and if there is a theme to be plucked from the series, my guess is that it would relate to the concept of loyalty in one way or another. So it feels a natural thing to analyse. We see loyalty used as a motif throughout the series in two main ways, the loyalty shown within partnerships, and loyalty within alliances. Loyalty is tested, sometimes broken, but the faction war succeeds in separating the server into two distinct, loyal groups.

While before I’ve been simply referring to the various groups in 3rd life as “partnerships,” due to the fact that they are almost entirely pairs (desert duo, renchanting, flower husbands, and for most of the series, the crastle), as things get somewhat more complicated, I’m going to start referring to these groups (to take a term from my own fic) as factions. These factions are defined not by their members (as we see some of them are transient and malleable), but rather for the sake of clarity, by their bases. This allows us to consider independents like BigB alongside our more often discussed pairs, and it allows us to situate some of our more nomadic members like Impulse. “Alliances” for my purpose will be agreements made between factions, and “partnerships” are agreements within factions.

One of the reasons Loyalty is discussed so often in 3rd life is the general adherence to it, and the notable exceptions. Ren and Martyn’s partnership is very strong, and often held as the pinnacle of loyalty, though more recent analysis suggests that the core may not have been as solid as it initially seemed. Loyalty also explicitly comes into debate in a number of different alliances, as people’s loyalties are unclear—usually Impulse and Tango as they explicitly play the field (actually I don’t remember if Impulse’s is explicit, but as I’ve mentioned in other posts, we can see how eager he is to get on everyone’s good side in the way that he runs off to go get scammed by Scar on purpose). Regardless, as the battle between the two alliances comes to a head, Impulse is forced to prove his loyalty to one side or another, and once he has, it is solid and unwavering. Exceptions of course mean betrayals, with Bdubs and Scar being the most notable betrayers. Our seemingly disloyal mole ends up being staunchly loyal, while our seemingly loyal faction leaders end up switching easily.

As I’ve alluded to, loyalty between partners and loyalty between allies are both concepts that come up consistently throughout the series, but they seem to work differently. The demands of loyalty between partners or allies are different. Partnerships are established through contract, made explicit through the three red-green pairs. “Marriage” and “indenture” (they use the language of debt, though they don’t say the word indenture itself) are treated with the same seriousness as “fealty” to one’s lord. These are all different forms of contract, and while they all have different implications and requirements, loyalty is at the forefront of them all. These contracts between partners don’t break or even bend the entire time the war is going on, the one exception being when Dogwarts tried to turn Cleo against Bdubs and it worked…for like twenty seconds.

Loyalty between alliances is a little less defined. Or rather, the expectations are only defined by one side. As we all know, 3rd life starts out establishing partnerships, then they start to reach out to form alliances, and in the end the series devolves into a war between two alliances that encompass the entire server. The red army, and …the unnamed alliance. Based on just the names alone, which do you think is the side that states their expectations explicitly?

Dogwarts has specific requirements of those who join their alliance, largely centred on loyalty in the form of fealty. They are a kingdom, and the allied factions are lords. Those lords are expected to bend the knee, do whatever the king says, and fight for the kingdom’s sake. In exchange, the kingdom is expected to divvy out resources, protect their allied factions, and provide rewards. Basically, mediaeval knight rules. These terms are fine for those who join the alliance, but completely unthinkable for those who don’t. The flower husbands and the crastle in particular take offence to the one sided nature of it, and the inability to act independently.

Meanwhile the desert alliance just asks for “friendship,” something Scar has been commodifying the entire season. If any terms are said, its that ‘I will help you if you’re in trouble and you’ll help me if I am.’ The lack of structure innate in the alliance draws in the groups that explicitly distrusted Dogwarts, but it also allowed them to pick up stragglers who are less invested, like Joel who they ended up poaching.

Dogwarts required loyalty from the outset and demanded it in explicit terms. The desert alliance fostered it naturally, with the loyalty as an implicit agreement born from self preservation. The alliance was free, and to keep that freedom, you had to support the other members. In a way, the alliance offered their loyalty to one another by choice, rather than by requirement. Despite the differences in methodology, the explicit demands of loyalty vs the implicit offers, both sides prove extremely loyal. Aside from the revelation of a mole (who I claim is actually loyal throughout, though others may argue with me), every single alliance holds strong throughout the entire war. There is not a single instance of dissidence or desertion. In other words, both methods are equally effective at garnering loyalty between alliances. Our few exceptions to the general rule of loyalty happen within factions, against day-one partnerships, and the faction war is largely free of infighting. It’s as if everyone put aside the death game for a while to play war, and then remembered the rules afterwards.

Masterlist

#traffic life #3rd life #trafficblr #desert duo #renchanting #flower husbands #crastle duo

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totalfreakingloser · 2 years

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get yourself a bestie like Mason. mans just allows me to dump fic ideas on him and gives me pointers on what he loves about them. I just sent this man three whole essays on a singular fic idea and man is just like “so you’re making that a cohesive fic yeah? I need it.” love a man like that. I’ve written him like three different fics solely because I sent him the idea and he demanded more and who am I to say no to an adoring fan?

#loser talks #about friends #he doesn’t use tumblr anymore so he won’t see this #but truly has been my best friend for over 10 years now #if he demands more of a fic he’s getting it #if you want me to ramble about ideas to you ask politely #I am always putting my blorbos into situations to avoid reality

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suddencolds · 5 months

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getting into a new fandom and finding 0 fics for it on ao3 😭 is it over

#delete later #it's 4am where i live and i cannot sleep which is v frustrating bc i have work as always #and i will truly private this when i am more awake and embarrassed but the fandom is k//ill//er p//et//er on we//bto//on #aka k//ill//er p//ie//tro depending on the translation scans site #it's only ~30 (scrollable webcomic format) eps so far... very action-y and digestible #but man. the titular character...#..............#seasoned assassin who succeeds despite the crazy odds stacked against him out of sheer competence and experience #what if he had a cold 🙁🙁🙁#i was actually reading it for reference for something more action-oriented i'm working on to familiarize myself more with the genre #my personal investment was not part of the plan (🤡)#i don't think i can be the one to post the first ever fic on ao3 and have it be a gratuitous sickfic 😭 i don't have it in me #also i think it would not quite live up to the joy of reading someone else's thoughts about how he'd operate when unwell... but sadly there #is 0 demand for it except for me and it's also not the kind of genre where we would ever get that arc in canon #...next time i need to find something with at least 1 sickfic on ao3 before i get emotionally invested

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autumnrory · 2 months

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woooo my niece took 5 of my 13 lego sets, one of which was one of the three larger ones, so that's one huge box out of the way and i'm just glad she wanted them because like they ARE twenty years old and they look fine ofc but sometimes kids aren't gonna want stuff that isn't new and shiny ya know, but she did seem to want everything which would've been fine with me but i knew there was no way they would take all that with them, and at least i still have stuff of my own to sell, plus should get at least a cut of my brother's stuff for doing the inventory and putting together that stuff that wasn't already done

#i mentioned the hp sets and how they had been pretty much left together and he was like '....i had harry potter sets?'#which once he saw them he did think they were familiar which was some of my feeling with mine #like oh YEAH i do remember these i just didn't remember having so many #i mean between 13 sets it's really like 3 categories so i would've played with like the whole ice palace and its related sets #i do just wonder how it'll be at the store like everything is pretty much in fine shape #and probably there are people who want older stuff that's rarer and whatever now #BUT then there might be more of a demand for newer stuff at a better price or whatever idk #anyway 6 sets left in the upstairs and then the bionicles and statue of liberty are still in the attic #i'm still not convinced there couldn't be another box somewhere bc idk how to explain the few sets #that are missing so much that i can't actually do them bc even if we had gotten rid of some why would we not include the huge base or w/e #anyway we'll see! but i'm getting closer! and i did a little one this morning #that seemed to be complete it didn't list some of the pieces as extras but based on the instructions i figure they have to be #so i don't really need them like i'll include them if i find them and they're not needed for something else but yeah #anyway i can go back to fic though these first two at least are short so i may be going back to another one tomorrow #can't wait to have my room back though fr like #it is not the only thing making it feel messy because i have newer jewelry and clothes and stuff that i just have to organize and put away #but man the jewelry situation is just. it's not even having so many pieces it's like big earrings that take up a lot of space or whatever #so i just have not wanted to deal with it but it's kinda out of hand #but i can really think about that after this particular project is done #and do puzzles again oh my god i have 3 puzzles waiting for me at least #plus my mom always has a bunch to be done since everyone knows to buy her puzzles lol but that has also gotten out of hand #i wouldn't mind getting rid of a couple of mine though just bc it is like okay you do it but then you just have it and it takes up space #would be cool to have pretty ones framed tho

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crowdsourcedloner · 1 year

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hmmm i need to replay crystal tower quests again to feed my brainworms

#fic ideas my beloved #i wanna write how g'raha and nailah didnt really get along at first #but i dont entirely remember how he talked in ct era #...i could wait until i can gpose the scene i want but brainworms demand their pound of soil #and i want to post more of my writing #ill just have to carefully avoid describing nailah ;-;#cecil.txt

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lokissweater · 24 days

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talk baby ⋆｡°✩

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: it’s the season of the world series!— your little life with megumi absolutely warm and loving as you spent every waking moment together, the both of you never failing to hang out or speak to one another since the very moment you two made it official. but when the higher ups start demanding more of megumi to bring the world series home, tiring him out and causing him to lose sleep? a wedge is driven between you both as megumi tells you words he wished he’d never said.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFF, ANGSTYY, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it yall), SMUT, baseball talk, megumi LOOVESS YOUU my goodness, DONINANT AF MEGUMI OBVIOUSLYYY, creampie, shower sex, DIRTY TALK megumi has a filthy mouth, megumi and reader get into a fight, it’s the world series, all characters are aged up.

word count: 12.5k (IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY-)

authors note: THE WAIT IS FINALLY OVERRR FUCK i cannot thank you all enough for the support with these series. i saw all of your AMAZING suggestions and sprinkled them all over THANK YOU!! i POURED my heart into this and i really hope you all love itttttt :,( STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT FIC OF THIS SERIES AAHHH!! I LOVE YOU MWAHHH <33

i highly highly advise you to read the first part of this fic or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find it here!

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megumi fushiguro loved how much you talked.

“—and then i went to the bakery down the street from my campus to get that one coffee cake i always get? the one you brought me after my class?”

“mhm.”

“but they were freaking out of it it’s like they knew i was coming to take their stock man. it was seven in the morning how the fuck are you out of coffee cake?”

megumi laughed softly and pressed a slow sweet kiss to your cheek, readjusting his arms around your waist as he scooched your body closer to his on his lap, the both of you on his huge black bean bag that sat in his living room as he leaned the side of his head back on your shoulder, relaxed and a little sleepy.

“so then i had to go to the one on campus, even though i already know it doesn’t taste the same…” you sighed sadly. “what if they did that on purpose? what if they want me to stop coming?”

megumi huffed an amused breath through his nose and shook his head gently against your shoulder. “don’t think so baby. i feel like you keep them in business with how much you go.”

you huffed and crossed your arms, grumbling. “yet they treat me like this...”

tilting your head down then to get a better look at him, you peeked at his sleepy face and tired eyes as he tried his absolute hardest to stay awake for you, wanting to listen to everything you had to say and more, but his eyelids drooping every couple of seconds before opening back up again just not letting him.

you smiled softly and carded your fingers through his black hair, pushing the front strands back and giving him a cute peck on his forehead.

“take a nap gumi… you’re so tired i can see it.”

“uh uh.” megumi hummed.

he lifted his head groggily and propped his chin up on your shoulder, eyes closed.

“keep going.” he murmured, his words a little slurred. “did you end up getting your coffee cake from the other bakery..?”

“i did.” you responded softly, caressing your thumb over his warm cheek as your soothing voice lulled him. “it was nasty. the end. c’mon baby you have practice tomorrow—”

“no.”

“gumi it’s late i don’t want to keep you uuupp.” you whined, nudging him.

“if you sleep over.” he mumbled.

“but i have class tomorrow.”

“i’ll take you.”

“but you always do and i feel bad…” you pinched his cheek softly. “it’s okay i can—”

“don’t care.”

you giggled. “well i do. i want you to get more sleep gumi, your practices are crazy long now and you have them like everyday—”

he groaned loudly and ushered you up, you complying as you watched him lazily stand from the bean bag and grab you, baggy eyes half lidded as he picked you up from around your legs and threw you over his shoulder— something he always did ever since the day he confessed, and something you absolutely floored over whenever he did it.

your giggles rang through his quiet and spacious apartment that made him sleepily smile as he lazily carried you down the hall and to his room, setting you softly to sit on his plush bed as he pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of your head, though nearly almost missing, him leaning back up and grabbing the hem of his black shirt— pulling it over his head and carelessly tossing it somewhere in the room before climbing into bed.

you felt so so bad. the team’s schedule was released just two weeks prior, and seeing as the world series was coming up— the most important segment of competitive games they could possibly ever have, the coaches and managers were grinding and overworking their players to pure fucking filth, them wanting to keep their streak as the number one baseball team no matter what it took.

and because of that, megumi was always so tired and stressed— holding on day by day as the higher ups demanded so much of him because he was the most skilled on the team, him spending his days trying to stay awake and make time for you— picking you up from class and taking you out to lunch like he always did, but your worried gaze always on his dark under eyes as you insisted and told him already that you understood, that he didn’t need to right now if it was over the subject of his career.

and especially if it was for the world series.

“lay down.” he murmured, patting the pillow next to him as he peeked at you with one eye open.

you stood, pulled the covers back and hopped in, megumi’s arm immediately snaking around your waist and pulling your back to his bare chest, his face nuzzling in your hair as you noticed how quickly his breathing deepened, falling asleep almost the minute you got settled in his arms and fitting like a little puzzle piece.

it had been almost an entire year since you and megumi started dating, and you have never ever been happier in your life as you thanked your lucky stars over and over again for being such a dumbass— wholly believing that if one thing had changed, it wouldn’t have played out the way that it did.

and you adored the way that it played out.

megumi was so affectionate. everyday. his love language being physical touch as he literally never left you alone and always had to be touching you in any given situation— like his hand on your thigh whenever he drove, playing with your fingers from across the table while out at a restaurant… and like now, his toned body literally engulfing you into his that it made you feel so cared for and warm and loved, something you always wanted to feel for the rest of your life as long as it was with him.

the next morning he drove you to school like he said he would, and then went straight to practice after, you telling him that you would be there once your classes were over.

and when you did get to the stadium later that day, megumi was mad.

“what the fuck happened?” you quickly sat next to your best friend on the sidelines, her snickering as you both watched megumi tell off another player for fumbling a double play on the field.

“they’re making more errors today,” your girl friend sighed. “they’re all nervous since their division series game is tomorrow and they’re getting closer to the big thing… but megumi is not having it.”

“you bobbled the ball go to first fucking base and eat it what the hell are you doing trying to—”

you gnawed at your bottom lip.

it was common for megumi to bark out orders and take charge on the field, that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it was only here and there where he was yelling and insulting the rest of his teammates like that (mostly rarely). a sign you knew was because he was stressing the fuck out.

“what you just did was a kiddie fucking error we won’t make it to the world series like this dingus the fuck are you—”

you covered your face and groaned. “i can’t watch… i don’t think i’ve seen him like this since that one day he asked me to come here.”

“you mean the day he ate you out in—”

“shuuushhh!” your hands shot out and slapped over her mouth as she let out a muffled laugh, your eyes wide and cheeks pink as you frantically looked around to see if anybody had heard her.

she took your wrists then and pulled them away. “have you guys even had sex yet? how many times am i gonna ask you until you say yes—”

you nudged her away. “no! we haven’t yet.”

you didn’t know why you hadn’t— the topic just one that was never brought up by either of you.

but you’ve definitely done other things though.

megumi was like a dog, not knowing the meaning of ‘keep your hands to yourself’ as he was always groping your ass in public out of no where just to hear you squeak in surprise, shoving his hands down your pants and making you cum repeatedly on his fingers when you’re both innocently just watching a movie on his couch, pressing his face into your tits and sucking hickeys whenever you wore a low cut shirt, and bullying his way in between your legs to lick and devour you up whenever he felt like it— all things he did with zero hesitation nor self control.

you weren’t complaining though, definitely not— you were just as freaky.

because every time megumi wore those gray sweatpants after practices that you loved oh so very much, no shirt on with his perfect toned body out only for your eyes— your mouth was on him, licking his chest all the way down to his pelvis, tugging the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down until all that was left before you was his mlb dick, you taking him into your mouth and sucking the absolute life out of him until he was shaking and breathlessly chanting your pretty name like a prayer—

“break!”

you pulled yourself from your thoughts and stood, your eyes already watching the way megumi walked over from across the field with his head down, chest heaving and his face glistening with sweat against the setting sun, his baseball uniform covered in dirt.

both you and your girl friend walked down the steps and towards the bullpen, you quickly grabbing a clean white hand towel from the gatorade jug rack beforehand and catching up, spotting yuji and megumi already seated inside on a bench.

upon megumi noticing you coming up, he smiled softly, tiredly.

“you guys are sucking today.” your best friend deadpanned, and you elbowed her.

“no. you guys just look really nervous… is everything okay?”

you took a seat next to megumi and silently offered the clean towel, him gently bringing up your extended wrist and pecking it in gratitude before taking the towel and wiping down his face, your cheeks flushing in response.

yuji sighed deeply and shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “everyone’s literally losing it. we win every year but each year that comes is extra added pressure to keep that up.”

megumi nodded wordlessly in agreement, his head hung.

“well this is your first bad practice isn’t it?” you softly mentioned.

“yeah… maybe it’s just today and you guys will be okay tomorrow.” your girl friend added, smiling comfortingly at yuji, him giving her the same smile back but with apprehension in his eyes.

“would’ve been fine if it was yesterday.” megumi cut in, voice monotone. “not today. not when it’s the last leg for the world series.”

he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms with closed eyes, yuji nodding next to him.

you pulled your lips into a thin line, heavy anxiety brewing in your chest at the thought of them possibly losing before even getting into the league championships, something their team has never done before as they’ve always just gone straight through.

in order to get through to the world series, their team has to win the division series and the league championships, then they earn their rightful shining spot of playing in the world series and winning— something megumi has been a part of for almost three years now, and something the team has dominated over for five consecutive years straight.

but what if this year was different?

“how are you feeling?” you gently asked megumi after a bit. “i saw you were a little mad today on the field…”

he slowly pried his eyes open and looked at you, sighing softly through his nose.

“m’fine pretty baby.” he murmured. “they’re just not playing like they should be.”

megumi took his cap off and scratched the side of his head, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “and neither am i to be honest.”

your eyes softened.

“what do you mean?”

“m’just not meeting the standards i set for myself.”

“but you play well in every game gumi..” you mumbled. “don’t overwork yourself please. just keep doing what you’ve been doing… it’s been going great so far, hasn’t it?”

he gave you a little smile and lazily reached up to delicately caress and run the ends of your hair through his fingers. “i need to amp it up though. i need to try harder.”

“try harder when you’re already winning?” you quirked a confused brow.

he nodded.

“what’s the reason behind that?”

megumi gave you a sly smile. “because you’ll be watching me.”

you gawked, shaking your head at him. “gumi, you know anything that you do makes me freak out and it’s embarrassing...” you subconsciously tugged a bit at the sides of his jersey. “the way you tied my shoes for me the other day made me freak out. the way you pumped my gas last week made me freak out. the way you stuck your fingers inside my pu—”

his eyes bulged open as he shot forward and muffled you with a kiss, you kissing him back and laughing cutely once he pulled away.

“nasty mouth…” he mumbled, but the little grin on his face made you giggle as he put his cap back on over his head and nudged it down, trying to conceal his eyes and the blushing of his cheeks— but you catching on anyways.

“how was class?” he asked quietly, readjusting his cap. “did you get your coffee cake after i dropped you off?”

you shook your head. “no because i’d rather die than get the one on campus. they need to close that place down.”

megumi snorted, but his eyebrows pinched momentarily as he took your hand in his and started playing with your fingers. “you should’ve told me. i would’ve drove you to the one you like.”

“no gumi i wasn’t gonna make you do that... i wanted you to sleep in as much as possible.”

“i’ll take you after practice.”

“no! you need to nap after don’t waste time—”

“m’not wasting time.” he replied, but before you could get another word in, his coach called all players back on field.

“i’ll see you after.” he stood and pecked your forehead. “i love you pretty baby.”

you smiled shyly, your cheeks a cute pink.

“i love you too.”

thankfully, megumi didn’t seem as pissed off for the rest of practice, and you hoped it was because of the little chat you had with him in the bullpen prior and that it cheered him up in some way— the team playing a lot better and actually working together this time instead of being at each others throats over feeble mistakes.

and when they were all finally back at the locker rooms packed up and ready to go, you organized his clean uniform for tomorrow and hung his gloves neatly inside his locker, closing it once you were done.

“you don’t have to do that baby.” he murmured, gesturing to his locker as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder and extended a hand. “organize. i can do that.”

“but i like doing it...” you took his offering hand and interlaced your fingers with his. “it helps you find things quicker.”

you both stepped out, quickly bidding your girl friend and yuji goodbye on the way as you walked down the echoey hallway together.

“—you also don’t have to drive me to school every morning but you do that anyways.”

he smiled. “touché.”

he led you out of the arena and over to the private parking area for players and crew— him opening the passenger side door for you to step inside and shutting it after, throwing his duffel bag to the back once he got in the drivers seat.

and like he always did, megumi buckled you up himself, grabbing the seat belt strap and pulling it over you to click on the other side with a kiss to your cheek— him never letting you do it yourself since the day you two properly met.

“do they sell food at the bakery?” he looked over at you as he pulled out. “they do don’t they.”

“they do!” you nodded sweetly. “but we’re not going.”

“why.”

“because you need to sleep—”

“no.”

“megumi—”

he shot you a glare and you squeaked.

“gumi! i-i meant gumi!”

he fixed his glare and broke out into a small smile instead, laughing lightly as he set his big hand over your thigh and squeezed lovingly.

you giggled softly.

“lunch first and then i’ll sleep.”

“oh my—”

you reached over for the door handle and pulled, brows furrowing once the lock wouldn’t budge after multiple frantic tries.

“you still have child lock on?!”

megumi shielded his mouth to hide his snicker, eyes to the road.

“uh huh.”

“why?!”

he gave you a deadpanned look and pointed to the door. “exhibit a, baby. the car is moving.”

“gumi if you hate me just say that.”

pulling into the bakery’s parking lot, he playfully rolled his eyes at your comment and pinched your cheek gently.

“be quiet.”

the bakery was a cute little place that was a frequent pit stop for the both of you to pick up breakfast on the way to the things you had to do in the mornings— always cozy and warm and filled with little trinkets and postcards of places from around the world, you always gushing when you or megumi would spot a new souvenir on the walls or on the shelves, and him sometimes having to stop you from snatching some for yourself…

“they have a million!” you whispered. “they won’t notice this one. please it’s from greece it’ll look cute on my fridge!”

megumi sipped his lemonade and gave you a half lidded look as you both sat in a booth.

“i don’t know if anyone has ever told you this but.” he gently slid the coffee cake closer to you, silently ushering you to eat. “that’s called stealing.”

“not if they don’t notice.”

megumi gave you an amused smile.

“i’ll take one for you too!”

“for me?”

“yeah!” you put your elbow on the table and propped your chin on your palm, tilting your head with the cutest expression megumi has ever seen in his fucking life.

“i’d do anything for you.”

his cheeks flooded pink, and he swallowed thickly.

megumi would do anything for you.

“i appreciate that pretty baby,” he murmured, tenderly tracing the pad of his index finger mindlessly around the back of your hand.

“great! so can i do it?”

“no.”

“maaannnn!” you slumped over the table and pouted. “you’re no fun.”

he chuckled and took a bite out of his ham and cheese deli, your mannerisms sometimes reminding him of his dad.

he swallowed.

“gojo wants to meet you.”

you froze. “really? he does?”

megumi nodded.

“okay! that’s okay— wait no! wait—” you groaned and leaned against the booth. “i don’t think he’s gonna like me very much…”

“huh?” his eyebrows furrowed. “why do you say that?”

you peered up at him sheepishly. “because i talk too much… i’m not gonna notice and end up telling him my lore, my school gpa, and my social security number.”

megumi laughed, and your heart fluttered at the sight of his crinkling eyes and gorgeous smile, the sound of it making you swoon.

he shook his head and rubbed his sleepy eyelids. “no baby... he’d love you. i know he would.”

“i don’t know gumi…” you sighed, looking down at your lap. “i want to meet him of course! that’s a given… but..”

megumi quirked a brow. “but?”

“i just don’t want to look stupid…” you laughed nervously. “it’s happened before where my friends parents say i’m a blabber mouth and i don’t want to embarrass you—”

his tired eyes narrowed. “blabber mouth? who’s saying you’re a blabber mouth?”

“my— my ex boyfriend in high school…” you cowered a little. “but it’s okay because i was over sharing!—”

“no.” he said firmly, his gaze looking directly into yours. “you’re not a blabbermouth. there’s a difference between being really open and friendly with people right off the bat and being a blabbermouth.”

megumi shook his head in annoyance. how could someone ever say you were a blabbermouth? he had never heard something that was so far from the truth.

you were too sweet for your own good, that was your only fault. you considered everyone you met a close friend of yours and weren’t afraid to tell them whatever came to your precious mind and made them feel welcome— something that megumi adored so much about you… so much, and something that made him borderline violent when people berated you for it.

“they just can’t handle it when someone is actually genuine. like you. and that’s not your fault.”

the shiniest smile grew on your face then, your eyes sparkling and feeling like a million fucking butterflies were fluttering all over your tummy— internally screaming at his words.

“thank you gumi…” you spoke softly. “i’m glad at least you don’t see an issue with it.”

“i don’t.” he shook his head. “i don’t at all.”

he loved it.

the rest of your lunch date was spent with megumi still not letting you steal the greece trinket magnet from the wall, you scolding him for the bags under his eyes, and him buying you two more slices of coffee cake to go no matter how many times you told him it was okay, the both of you gathering your things and going back to his car after a bit for him to drop you off back home.

“i’ll be here in the morning to take you to class.” he said gently, turning the corner and nearing your street.

“what? isn’t the division series game tomorrow?” you asked, taken aback. “gumi no just get as much sleep as you can it’s a big day. i can take myself.”

he looked at you boredly.

“no.”

“guumiii!”

he pulled into your driveway and shifted his gear into park, the corners of his mouth turned upward into a little goofy grin.

“i can take you baby it’s fine,” he pushed gently. “don’t worry.”

“you’ve been stressed though… and tired.”

you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached over, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in as he immediately leaned in and tucked his face into your neck, breathing in your honeyed perfume and letting himself slump into your soft frame.

“please promise me that after the division series, you’ll rest up like crazy before the league championships.” he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes nearly closing as he sleepily blinked. “okay?”

“league championships? didn’t know we already won.” he murmured.

you giggled. “obviously. you’re my cool baseball man, are you not?”

he tiredly grinned and pressed a sweet sweet kiss to your cheek, him biting down on it after and making you yelp before snickering and pulling away.

“bye gumi,” you quickly grabbed a slice of coffee cake and placed it on his leg. “here eat this on the way home so you don’t fall asleep.”

he chuckled and watched as you grabbed your things, hopped out, and ran across the front of his car, leaning your head in through his open window once you reached him and pressing your soft lips to his, megumi fucking melting at the feeling.

you pulled apart and he pecked you one last time— a series of i love you’s iterated before you backed away and waved excitedly from your front door, him waiting until you were inside to reverse, his engine roaring and his black car shining against the moonlight as he sped down the street.

the next morning you got up around the time that you usually did, showered and did your hair and got ready for class, packed your school bag and made your bed—

but megumi hadn’t texted you. like at all.

he usually sent you a good morning text, followed by him letting you know when he was leaving the house, followed by when he was on his way, and followed by when he was just down the street and pulling up.

except you got nothing.

you figured maybe today was just one of those days where he maybe just simply forgot and was already on his way, but as you stood literally outside of your house, gnawing on your thumb and the time coming painfully close to the start of your morning class as you still got nothing from megumi (even when you had texted him multiple times at this point), you started shitting it.

just as you were about to run inside to get the keys to your car, your phone buzzed as a picture of you and megumi flashed across the screen.

megumi!

“hel—”

“baby!—” he breathed out, frantic. “baby i’m sorry i’m so sorry i’m coming okay im down the street—”

“what happened?” you breathed out worriedly, your heart hammering against your chest.

“i overslept!—” he explained quickly. “i’m late to the team’s call time and— and you’re late to class and i— fuck!”

you heard his horn blare and his tires screech as muffled curses flew from his mouth, you jumping at the noise.

“sorry sorry someone cut me off i’m almost there—”

“no gumi go straight to the stadium you’re late!” you spoke firmly. “i can take myself—”

“no but i wanted to see you before the game—”

“it’s fine we can see each other after the game okay? when you win—” you grabbed your keys from the coffee table by your door and ran out, unlocking your car and getting in. “you’re late baby so fucking late please turn back this isn’t good coach is gonna chew you out—”

“shit! i know i know—”

“go gumi hang up it’s okay!”

“okay.. fuck okay okay—”

you heard rustling on the other line before he spoke again.

“i love you i’m sorry ill see you after!”

and the line went dead.

you slugged through the rest of your classes as the day felt way fucking longer than it normally did, you desperately just wanting to see megumi and know that he was okay, that he wasn’t in trouble with his coach and the management team for being over an hour late to the division series call time, you on the verge of literal tears multiple times over him.

your best friend and you had planned to get ready for the game together and sport your men’s jerseys from the stands— a girl’s night you were agonizingly looking forward to all freaking month, and so so excited that the day was finally here to support and be present for the making of yet another year for the boys’ team.

“and then he hung up. i thought he was gonna get into a wreck man—”

you ran your fingers through your styled hair in your vanity mirror, your best friend readjusting her jersey behind you— ‘itadori’ in big capital letters on the back.

“megumi is the most hard headed mean stubborn man i have ever come across in my life.” she searched around in her makeup bag, pulling out her lip liner and reapplying next to you. “i don’t know how many times you told him to sleep and get some rest. and yuji too! he hasn’t stopped talking about him since the schedule change and now i’m starting to think he’s in love with him.”

you laughed loudly.

“i know…” you sighed anxiously through your nose, nervous clammy jitters in your chest. “his eye bags have gotten so bad this past week.”

“i think it’s because he’s been practicing over time.”

you stopped.

“what do you mean?”

she looked at you quizzically. “i thought you knew? yuji told me that the higher ups had a meeting with megumi and told him that they were expecting him to bring the world series home.”

she popped the lid back on her lip liner and threw it in her bag. “he practices all night on the field until like four am.”

“what the fuck?” your eyes narrowed. “he never told me that? he picks me up for my seven am class everyday… that means he’s only been getting what— like two and a half hours of sleep this past week?”

she stopped. “he didn’t tell you?”

“no!” you exclaimed. “when was this meeting?”

“at the start of last week.”

“oh my god.” you grumbled.

why didn’t he tell you?

“that’s fucked up.” she shook her head. “talk to him about that after babe… i don’t know why this man didn’t tell you something like that.”

“i would’ve never let him pick me up for class if i knew this was going on…” you gloomily fiddled with the buttons on your jersey. “or hang out with me after practice.”

and why the hell were the higher ups demanding so much from megumi? why were they burning him out with a responsibility so huge as to ensuring the success of the team for the world series? that wasn’t fair to him. that wasn’t fair at all.

your girl friend hugged you comfortingly.

“it’s fine don’t worry about it okay?… just talk to him after.”

once at the stadium, you and your best friend squeezed and pushed through the crowd to get to the v.i.p. section, the both of you sweating and panting over having run across the stadium’s parking lot and the main area, all because your best friend couldn’t decide which way to do her hair, and because you couldn’t decide if you should wear a skirt or jeans.

you ended up choosing for each other and calling it a day.

“hey! you guys!”

you both snapped your heads up and you recognized the source of the voice as one of the assistant crew members of the team, jogging up to you guys with two devices in his hands.

“you guys want these radios or are you good? they’re connected to the announcers and have earbuds!”

“oh i’ll take one! thank you!” you answered politely, smiling as he passed you and your best friend a radio.

you pushed the earbud into your left ear and sat.

the crowd was buzzing and cheering with excitement, flashes of light shimmering throughout the sold out stadium as many held up posters and signs or bobble heads, you smiling wide every time you spotted a few of megumi’s face and name.

the air was warm, and every kind of news reporter, publicist, and journalist was present on the sidelines as they filmed and interviewed several players from the opposing team.

“let’s play ball!”

the crowed roared, claps and whistles ringing through the air as yuji walked out from the dugout, the both of you screaming as the rest of the team followed suit, your shoulders evidently relaxing at the sight of megumi jogging out into position looking absolutely jaw dropping in his clean cut uniform and cap, serious and focused.

as the game ensued, it was no surprise that the boys’ team was absolutely demolishing the opposing players, megumi doing fucking stellar out on the field as he caught ball after ball with his glove, the announcers commentary certainly helping with explaining the context of the game due to your lack of knowledge, but you trying your hardest anyways to understand on your own.

and finally after a while of switching sides and megumi hitting like a greek god, the teams switched sides what seemed like the final time since it was almost the nine inning, his turn to hit.

“walking up to base now… number eighteen— megumi fushiguro!”

the crowd went fucking insane as he walked up, you immediately standing and screaming over the railing as he took his position up there— swinging soft faux hits before properly adjusting his footing on the loose dirt, fans waving around their fushiguro banners or his baseball cards as he settled.

the bags under his eyes…

you gnawed anxiously at your bottom lip. his team was so close to moving on to the league championships…

“and the pitcher throws….”

hit!

“strike one!”

megumi screwed his eyes shut and grimaced, shaking his head furiously as he shook the nerves from his body and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

“oh!” the announcers groaned. “looks like megumi fushiguro missed a hit for the first time in history!”

for the first time?

you whipped your head around to face your girl friend. “for the first time?”

she looked at you with the same terrorized expression.

“fuck i knew he always hit but i didn’t know he never missed…” you whined worriedly. “he’s exhausted man i can see it look—”

megumi’s footing slightly slipped from the dirt as he positioned himself, getting ready for the next swing.

“and the pitcher throws again…”

hit!

“strike two!”

“fuck!” megumi roared, walking off the home plate and chucking his bat to the wall— the wood flying and clattering as it hit the ground, your eyes widening in horror.

“woah looks like fushiguro got another strike and.. needs to take a breather off the field..?”

“if megumi doesn’t get this next hit, they’re done!” your girl friend shook her head, eyes wide and afraid. “the other team is gonna take it!”

you ran your fingers through your hair exasperatedly, frantically looking at the scoreboard and back at megumi who was pacing a little off the plate with his head down, his hands on his hips.

“fushiguro!” you spotted yuji yelling from the dugout. “get back on the plate! we could get flagged!”

megumi’s chest heaved as he picked up his bat and wiped off the dirt, walking back over to the home plate and repositioning himself.

cameras flashed and recorded as he tried to get back into focus, news reporters talking their asses off and journalists scribbling god knows what— as they just earned themselves their biggest headline of the season.

megumi fushiguro missed his first hit in playing history.

“and the pitcher throws…”

hit!

“oh there it goes! looks like a fair ball!”

the crowd rallies as megumi books it over the first two bases, everyone watching as the ball hits over the outfield fence as he fucking dashes across the remaining two bases like nothing, earning himself a home run—

and scoring a spot in the league championship games for his team.

you and your best friend jump for complete joy, throwing your arms around each other and swaying as fans all around you celebrated and cheered just like the both of you, you happily watching the players from the dugout run up and engulf megumi in a group hug, jumping and laughing.

as the crowd began to disperse and take leave, you both quickly ran down the steps and to the field, you immediately spotting megumi and running up to him with your arms out.

“gumi!”

he noticed you and extended his arms, but his face read nothing as you jumped into them.

“good job good job! you did so amazing!”

“nice fushiguro!” yuji nudged his shoulder. “you brought us through!”

“i missed the first two hits.”

he set you back down.

yuji shrugged. “so? it happens. i do it all the time! you made a home run and scored us the league.”

megumi only silently nodded, his face to the ground as you told yuji and your best friend that you would see them in the locker rooms with everybody else.

and once everyone had cleared out from the field, you turned to him.

“hey…” you started. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes remained glued to the dirt.

“i missed the first two hits.”

your shoulders deflated. “you heard what yuji said… it’s okay. it was bound to happen but it’s fine because you fixed it—”

“we were on thin fucking ice today.”

his snippy tone took you by surprise a bit.

“yes… but you made it...” you responded softly. “you all pulled through. especially you.”

he scoffed and shook his head, him finally raising his baggy eyes and looking to the side, pissed.

“i almost cost us the league. that’s what i did.”

“gumi—” you exhaled a frustrated breath. “you literally played like a machine the entire time and had other hits that were amazing? i don’t understand why two little strikes—”

his eyes snapped to yours. “two little strikes?” he shook his head again. “two strikes too fucking many.”

“what is your issue?—”

“my issue is that if i fucked up that third hit it would’ve been all over. we would’ve lost the division, lost the league, and lost the world series, all because i don’t know how to fucking play ball—”

“yes you do! you’re being way too hard on yourself baby you need to take a breather and rest—”

“how many times have you nagged me about that already.” he spat.

you froze.

“nagged?” you repeated softly.

“yes. you’ve told me enough times i get it i need rest, i need sleep, i need this i need that—”

“i’m saying that because look at you!” you motioned with your hands, feeling potential tears prickling at the back of your eyes at the way he was speaking to you. “your under eyes are dark and purple, your eyes are red you look exhausted!”

“and i told you i’m fine!” he raised his voice a bit. “you wouldn’t understand the shit that i have to do for this team the shit i have to pull and i gave them absolute garbage today—”

“oh my god megumi!” you snapped. “your team is a team effort! it’s not just you! you’re not the only one pulling the stops so enough with trying to take on this load and overwork yourself! please you played amazing today everyone was cheering so loud for you and—”

“stop talking.”

you paused.

“just—” he rubbed his tired eyes and turned to the side. “just please stop talking.”

stop… talking?

he struck a chord, and you felt your heart literally break at his words, an aching heavy pit in your chest as you recounted his yelling and snappiness when all you were trying to do was help him.

thats all you’ve ever tried to do for megumi really— help him, support him, and love him. but for him to throw it all back in your face and say you didn’t understand? for you to basically shut up?

tears were slipping past your eyes at this point, and when you felt like megumi finally bothered to look at you in the face, his eyes widened and his shoulders dropped.

“baby—”

“and what about you?”

he stopped. “about me—”

“yes about you. you’re saying i don’t understand anything you’re fucking going through, as if i haven’t followed you through your career since the moment we met and before that, like i haven’t supported you on the sidelines and asked you question after question about your games just so i can fucking understand—”

“no i—”

you cut him off. “and then you’re here— yelling at me, telling me off, and telling me to shut up when i’m the only one fucking standing here with you after the game trying to be there for you?!—”

“baby— fuck i’m sorry okay i didn’t mean—”

you laughed bitterly. “you didn’t mean it. didn’t mean what? to accidentally let it slip that you actually do think i’m a blabbermouth?”

he was taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head desperately. “no— no that’s not what i meant at all y/n i’m sorry. i’ve been so stressed and tired and i’m taking it all out on you right now and— and that’s not okay and not an excuse.”

megumi quickly stepped forward and placed his hands on your face, but you pushed him away, hurt flashing across his eyes as you did so.

“and why didn’t you tell me about the meeting huh? the one with the higher ups last week?”

surprise crossed his face. “how did you—”

“doesn’t matter how i heard it. why didn’t you tell me? do you understand how that makes me feel when i have to find out through someone else and not my own boyfriend?”

he ran a hand through his spiky black hair and sighed exhaustedly.

“i didn’t tell you because i knew you would be upset about it and i didn’t want you to worry—”

“so you just chose to keep it from me that’s real nice.” you spat. “of course i wouldn’t be happy with it they’re stripping you down and exploiting you! how could they say that it’s all on you to bring it home for the world series? do you understand how insane that sounds?”

“i know but i can’t tell them anything i just have to say yes!” he explained.

“you have every right to tell them something! and if you would’ve communicated this with me like you should’ve done, i wouldn’t have let you lose so much sleep over me and maybe you wouldn’t have played the way you think you played, and you wouldn’t be standing here shitting all over me!”

he really struck a chord.

“y/n—”

“bye megumi.”

his breath hitched.

“no— hey don’t do that—”

he scrambled after you as you made your way out of the field, him quickly catching up and tugging you into him with his long arms around your shoulders, bringing your back to his front as he ducked his face down.

“let’s fix it please we need to fix this—”

“i want to be alone right now, megumi.” you mumbled.

god he hated how many times you’ve called him that already tonight, feeling like the biggest asshole to ever grace your precious life.

“no i don’t want you to be upset with me please—”

“we can talk later on the phone.” your tone was lifeless. “i just need to be alone.”

he faltered, feeling gutting pain cascade all over his body as he hesitantly, slowly, slipped his arms away and released you.

“o—okay.”

he watched you walk up the stands and to the exit as you clutched yourself, his eyes catching the back of your jersey reading his last name that sent an immediate pang through his chest, your frame disappearing from his view and leaving him in his stupid thoughts as he snatched his cap off from his head and threw it to the side in frustration.

that night megumi tried to call you but you didn’t pick up, you barely even answering his texts as he wallowed in self pity alone in his apartment.

and you hadn’t stopped crying since the moment your tears hit on the field— hurt and exhausted and guilty as you settled into bed, unable to bring yourself to call him and go through with your word, deciding to text instead.

(you): i’m really tired i’m sorry. i’ll see if i can call you in the morning.

megumi took no time at all to respond.

(gumi <3): can i take you to class tomorrow?

(you): i don’t think that’s a good idea

he swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the urge to fight it, wanting to respect you and your space.

but you only kept crying.

(gumi <3): okay

(you): goodnight

(gumi <3): goodnight pretty baby

just as you were about to place your phone back on your nightstand, it buzzed again.

(gumi <3): i love you i’m sorry

you sniffled and put your phone away officially, choosing not to respond.

the following week leading up to the league championship game, megumi spent every waking moment trying to make it up to you, trying to fix it, but you only seemed to stay away from him and distance yourself, something that hurt megumi like no other.

you felt like it was your fault he played the way he did that day. if you had been smarter, more mindful, you would’ve noticed that the intensity of his exhaustion was extremely abnormal, and perhaps you could’ve done something about it before it was too late and saved yourself the dreadful fight you had with him.

you hated the way you spoke to him, and you fully convinced yourself that you only served as a distraction for him, opting to keeping your distance as far away as possible so it allowed megumi to get his head focused again and ensure a promised route to the world series— something you had hoped to be there to witness, but deeming his success way more important than your needs at this point in time.

so you stopped going to all of his practices following that day, the fact tormenting megumi as you always went to each and every single one and was there for him without fault— rain or shine, always waiting for him in the locker rooms when he was finished.

but you weren’t there anymore. and each day you weren’t was another day megumi would spend angry and frustrated with himself that he did what he did. he knew your defense mechanism was pushing people away, and your current behavior gave him flashbacks to the time last year when he was falling for you and you kept running away from him, scared— those actions a carbon copy of what’s happening now, except far worse.

and he did that to you. he yelled at you and snapped at you, told you to stop talking for some fucking reason that he still couldn’t find the proper explanation for… and he made you cry. so much. your usual sweet honeyed voice you spoke to him with long gone since that day.

and he missed you. more than anything.

“you stupid—” throw “self absorbed—” throw “asshole—” throw “narcissistic—” throw—

“okay that’s enough that’s enough!”

yuji pulled your best friend back as she chucked towel after towel at megumi following one of their practices, her absolutely fuming.

he took every hit, not bothering to dodge. he deserved it.

“she told me what you did—” she shook herself away from yuji’s grip. “what the hell is the matter with you? how could you yell at her like that on the field? when all she’s ever done is love you—”

“i know.” megumi mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “i know i’m really sorry. i regret it.”

“fuck yeah you should,” she scoffed. “that woman’s been cooped up every day in her room bawling her eyes out over you!”

yuji nodded sadly, and megumi let out a pained breath as he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, propping his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.

“fuck me…”

“yeah fuck you—”

“okay! okay. he’s already down let him bleed out.” yuji muttered to her as he rubbed his hands over her arms soothingly, an attempt at calming her down.

he looked at him. “megumi, you and i both know that she understands you were frustrated that day. the both of you. if you just talk to her—”

“you think i haven’t tried?” megumi picked his head up, and the both of them froze at the way his eyes glossed over.

“i’ve— i’ve called her, i’ve texted her, i drove by her house but she’s never there, fuck i even went to her campus at seven in the morning but couldn’t find her.”

he took his cap off and roughly rubbed over his eyes again.

your best friend sighed then after a moment, slowly stepping forward and sitting down next to him on the bench.

“she’ll come around megumi.” she mumbled. “just give her some time. i know it’s hard, but she really really loves you.” she sighed deeply. “she’ll come around.”

megumi nodded solemnly, and yuji stepped forward, patting his shoulder.

“you okay man?”

he nodded again.

missed phone calls, lagging dry texts, and last minute cancellations from you all happened for a week straight.

and when the time finally came for the league championships, megumi wanted nothing more than for you to be there as he stared at his messy fucking locker when prepping for the game— another reminder that you hadn’t been around, and another reminder that you wouldn’t be here tonight to see him, something he completely did not blame you for.

luckily, the league championship game was at their home base once more, and as the crowd got settled to watch, energies heightened as the players all got settled over the field to play ball— megumi shook the nerves from his body as he focused with the game, and you, on his mind like a religion.

and as the game ran on with the team scoring run after run, another win was blatantly obvious for them— megumi entirely unaware of your presence that was watching him the entire time in the stands.

you couldn’t help yourself. you needed to be there to watch him, needed to see him take home another achievement like that, regardless of where you both stood as you watched from just above the v.i.p section, shivering like an idiot because you forgot to bring a jacket after deciding to wear a flowy tube top for the day, but excited for him nonetheless.

you didn’t tell a single soul you were coming, not even your best friend as you just wanted to see megumi again before running off into the shadows of your embarrassing despair, missing him like fucking crazy and nearly sobbing when you saw him walk out on the field at the start, but even more emotional to the fact that they were actually going to move on to the world series by the looks of it.

and the crowd hollered eventually as the speakers blasted megumi’s teams signature song—

finalizing their spot in the world series.

your eyes glowed as you watched his team run up on the field and tackle each other down, literally rolling in the dirt as you giggled to yourself— sighing contently and about to turn and walk out of the stadium to go home when a strong rough hand wrapped around your bare upper arm.

“you’re fushiguro’s girl! aren’t you?”

you snapped your head up and saw someone you recognized as one of megumi’s crew members for the team, and you relaxed, trusting him.

“oh! yeah i am!”

“sweet! i just got hired to be on the crew a couple of weeks ago.”

“that’s great!” you answered politely, smiling. “how is—”

“listen i was wondering if i could get any tickets to the world series from you?”

what.

“um—” your eyes darted around awkwardly. “for— for the world series?—”

“yeah! i took this job so i could get some but apparently i need to be working longer than three weeks. dumb.”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek as your eyes drifted downward to your arm.

he still hadn’t let go.

“oh i’m sorry.” you mumbled. “i could— i could maybe get you one? one for sure!”

he shook his head. “shit sorry, i need like five.”

“five?!” you gawked. “i can’t get you five i’m really sorry… i can only maybe get you one.”

his eyes narrowed. “why not? you’re fushiguro’s girl are you not?”

“yes but what does that have to do with me getting you tickets to the world series?” you spoke nervously, trying to put on a brave front as his height literally towered over you.

“why don’t you ask him for tickets? he’s literally megumi fushiguro i’m sure he can cough up some—”

you scoffed.

“i’m not gonna ask him anything for you just because you want to use me to get tick—”

“so then what the fuck are you with him for?” his grip tightened around your arm as he pulled you a little, and you winced.

“let go of me!—”

megumi considered himself a relatively calm person throughout his life.

he knew he had his explosive rude moments here and there, him also accidentally offending people unknowingly with his words, but that behavior only stayed on the field as it pertained to the game at hand or with baseball itself, his life outside of that a treasured tranquil one as he spent his days with you and only you, something he looked forward to every waking moment since the day he met you.

but as he heard your little voice through the yelling of the crowd, instantly recognizing it and picking up on its distressed demeanor— his body did a full one-eighty as his eyes frantically searched for you through the mass of people.

and once he did spot you? your breathtaking little self being manhandled by some fucking moron who had his hand around your upper arm?

he didn’t consider himself a relatively calm person anymore.

megumi quickly snatched his cap off and passed it to a confused yuji and your best friend, sprinting at the speed of light across the field and to the fence of the v.i.p. section before hoisting himself up and climbing, jumping over once he reached the top and landing on the stands— him running up a few steps before finally reaching you and tearing the guy off.

“get the fuck off.”

he gently pushed you behind him, his chest heaving.

“the shit are you doing hurting her arm like that for huh?!” megumi stepped forward.

“hey! hey i’m sorry man i— i didn’t know i was hurting her—”

“sure you fucking did she was literally telling you to let go and you were throwing her around like—”

“megumi please—”

“are you part of the crew?”

“y—yeah?”

“you’re gone. you’re fired you’re—”

“wait i’m sorry! i was just trying to get tickets to the world series—”

megumi’s eyes blew open, wild and infuriated.

“that’s why you were grabbing her like that? you were harrassing her for some fucking ticke— you know what—”

megumi stepped forward before you could stop him as he reeled his fist back and knocked him straight in the jaw, the guy stumbling back a bit and the crowd gasping before megumi spun around and grabbed your legs, throwing you over his shoulder.

“get the fuck out of my way.”

the small crowd that stuck around for the altercation parted with no questions asked, his long legs striding over across the exit and to the teams now vacant locker room— kicking the door open before gently setting you down on your feet.

he ran his hands over your soft hair frantically as he grabbed your cheeks and checked you over, your teary doe eyes breaking him apart.

“hey are you okay? are you fine?”

megumi let go of your face and gently lifted your upper arm, his eyes hardening at the purple forming bruise from that dickwads hand.

“he’s gone he’s gone—”

you lunged and wrapped your arms around his waist tightly as he started to charge back out, pulling him back.

“no! stop it’s okay you already hit him i think he got the message.” you mumbled, letting him go.

megumi turned to you then, his eyes softening over your timid sad frame as you played with your fingers, gaze down.

“y/n.”

“hm?”

he frowned.

“can you please look at me.”

you listened reluctantly and peered up at him.

he exhaled. “baby i— i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry for everything that i said to you that night. i meant none of it. nothing. i was just angry at myself and stressed and stupid and i hate that i talked to you like that and took it out on you. you didn’t deserve that at all.”

you hurriedly wiped your silent tears— nodding, but saying nothing.

he leaned down to look at you at eye level.

“are you okay?”

you nodded again and sniffled.

“talk baby.” he pleaded with you gently, eyes sad. “tell me, please.”

you cowered a little as you finally broke into tiny sobs, your hands hovering over your face to hide your tears as he placed his big hands on your upper arms, megumi feeling like he just got run over by an entire military tank at the sight of you crying because of him.

“i—i’m sorry i yelled at you—” you hiccuped. “i was so mean and i f—feel really bad—”

“baby why are you apologizing?” he shook his head. “it’s me it’s all me i’m the one who was mean to you—”

“no but—” you sniffled. “you were just stressed from the game like you said and that’s fine i should’ve been more aware. i didn’t mean to upset you with me talking—”

“oh pretty baby..” he breathed out, agonizingly, megumi literally beating himself up. “remember when i said one time you were too nice for your own good?”

you nodded.

“this is one of those moments. you should be yelling at me and throwing things at me like your best friend did.”

your eyebrows furrowed as you sniffled. “she— she did?”

“she did.” he nodded. “rightfully so.”

you giggled a little, and he smiled softly.

“i’m sorry i distanced myself the way i did…” you mumbled, a waterfall of tears coming down again. “i just thought that i was a distraction and— and i wanted you to focus.”

“a distraction?” he murmured. “y/n you are never a distraction.”

“no but at the end of the day i was…” you sobbed. “you need to be there for your team you have—“ hic! “you have responsibilities and i don’t want you to put me above that and— and keep hanging out with me when you have so much to do—”

“something you need to understand is that i’m replaceable.” he cut you off, tone firm. “the minute they find some other dude that’s way better than me and quicker than me and they draft his ass over to the team? they are going to replace me faster than you will ever think. that’s just the way jobs are. i’m replaceable no matter how much you wanna think it’s not true.”

he shook his head, his face pained. “but you are not. you’re not fucking replaceable there is no other you. you are my life now baby. yes my career is a priority, but so are you, and i would rather them replace me than lose you entirely.”

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, your doe eyes wide.

“i appreciate that you care so much and you support me and that you want me to devote all of my time to only this— you’re an angel on earth for all of that… but as your man i’m telling you that all of my time is devoted to you now, not just baseball.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer to you, tight, him immediately reciprocating and snaking his arms around your waist.

he could finally breathe.

“do you understand?” he murmured softly, rubbing his hands over your back soothingly.

you nodded.

“but you can’t— wear yourself out like you did okay?” you sniffled. “you can’t let them push you and tire you out… and please listen when we say for you to rest…”

“i know i’m sorry. i’ll listen next time baby i promise.”

“i get you trying to improve for yourself and push your limits… but— but there’s a difference between wanting to better your play and straight up wearing yourself down.”

you pulled back a little to look at him, wiping your tears and hiccuping. “and i worry man… i worry so much because i—“ hic! “i love you and i always think about if you’re eating right or— or getting enough sleep—”

his heart literally melted as he felt the remains of it ooze and spread all over his body and insides, your pure sweet concerns tugging at him and turning him into absolute putty before you.

he tightened his grip around your waist and lifted you, gently rocking your bodies as you sniffled and cried, his eyes screwed shut and feeling every possible emotion a human being could ever feel… but feeling love most of all.

love for you. love for who you are.

megumi kissed your wet cheek delicately and let his lips linger there as he spoke.

“i’m in love with you…” he murmured. “i hope you know that.”

your heart fluttered and you nodded, a little smile playing at your face.

“i’m in love with you too gumi.” you hummed, pressing a sweet kiss of your own to his cheek.

he set you back down and cupped your cheeks, slowly leaning in and pressing light tender kisses to your lips, his mouth completely savoring over the taste of yours as he had been deprived of them for a freaking week— feeling like his dried up soul had been rejuvenated and made anew.

and you felt the same way… because you deepened the kiss, picked up the pace, pulled him closer until his chest was flush against yours and your hot breaths were mixed together in a misty cloud, megumi breathing heavily through his nose as he ran his needy desperate hands over your delicious body.

he trailed wet open mouthed kisses on your cheek, jaw, and all the way down to the side of your exposed neck, his hand supporting the other side as he feverishly licked a slow long stripe of spit up your neck with his rough tongue, your fists gripping the sides of his jersey as he nibbled and bit, his lips finally coming to enclose and suck around a certain spot as your breath hitched at how frenzied and sloppy he was being, drool practically running down your neck as he ravished, bit, and sucked over multiple areas.

you shoved your hands down his pants suddenly, and he choked in surprise as his hips thrusted forward, your fingers pumping and palming his hardened cock slowly as his breath shuddered against your neck.

“baby...” he murmured.

“hm?”

“how would you feel if i turned on the shower and fucked my cock in your pretty little cunt for a bit in there huh?…”

a needy whimper slipped past your lips against his ear, and he grew weak.

“is that okay—”

“more than okay—”

you squealed as he wasted no time in picking you up again and walking over to the showers, the both of you clumsily tearing off your clothes as megumi fumbled with the shower switch until luke warm water spritzed from above— entrapping the both of you in a humid trance as megumi squeezed your bare thighs and ushered you to jump, you doing so immediately and wrapping your legs around his waist.

he stepped in and literally slammed the shower door shut, the two of you giggling a little as the soothing water washed over your panting bodies, the sight of his handsome bright face making your cheeks flush and bury your face in his neck in response.

he chuckled softly, gently setting your back against the wet tile wall before kissing you again and again, his mouth messy against your puffy lips as he tried to drink up all that you gave him, the tip of his cock slipping past your folds and brushing against your swollen clit— each time making you squeak and jump.

you didn’t care about anything, your mind reeling and just wanting megumi’s dick inside of you as soon as possible, knowing that you’d never really had sex before and literally not giving a single shit because it was him— someone you trusted the most out of anyone in your life, and someone you wanted to give your all to no matter the circumstance.

he lined his fat tip then against your drooling hole.

“wait! wait the door—“ you gripped his shoulders for support. “the door did you lock it?”

“nope.”

megumi pushed his cock in slowly and gently, your choked gasps and moans echoing inside the shower as his head fell to rest in the crook of your hickey covered neck, him groaning in ecstasy as your gummy warm pussy strangled his dick to the tightest degree, already previously so wet and gushy that it thankfully barely hurt you at all as he bottomed out.

“fuuuckk— you’re warm.” he murmured, gripping your hips like a vice and softly caressing his thumb against your slippery skin to soothe you— hoping (but not really), you’d maybe release the clutch your pussy had on his dick to stop him from already shooting his cum all over your insides like a loser.

he slowly drew his hips back and fucked into you again, you jolting at the force as you fumbled to keep your grip steady on his shoulders, his cock fucking thick and massive as his little curve poked deliciously at your cervix, him gradually increasing his pace as you shuddered over the quick pat pat pat’s echoing through the walls.

“g—gumiii..” you whined.

“what baby?” he mumbled breathlessly, his eyes glued to where his dick connected with your hole as it slipped in and out lewdly, your pussy literally squelching and screaming for him with your bouncing tits in his face that made him clench his jaw in self restraint— trying his hardest not to fucking ram into you like nothing and take you.

“y—you’re biigg!” you hiccuped, your little gasps of breath enticing droplets of cum to leak out of his tip and ooze out of your little wet folds, megumi moaning at your words.

“yeah?” pat pat pat— “s’too much for you baby?”

he picked up the pace, on purpose as he meanly bounced you on his cock and shot his hips up against your pussy, his big heavy balls slapping against your ass and making your eyes fucking cross at the feeling.

“tell me you love me.” he panted. “now.”

“i—“ hic! “i love you—”

megumi grabbed your cheeks with his fingers and mushed them together, grinning deviously at the way your pouty lips pushed out cutely.

“how much.”

“s—so- ah!— so much gumi—”

“more— shit!” he choked, a particular squeeze from your abused cunt almost making him finish. “m— more than anything?”

slap slap slap—

“y—yes!—” you could barely even speak due to the erotic hold he had on your face. “i love you i love you i love—”

you squealed as he let go of your face, gave into his desires and rammed into you, both hands on your bruised hips as he gave your pussy no room to breathe with how fast he was shoving his fat cock inside of you, pounding and pummeling into your guts as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your release build up in your tummy.

“why were you asking me about the door earlier huh?” he panted. “you don’t want anyone to see how much of a” thrust! “slut you are? your legs spread for me like this and your pretty pussy creaming on my dick?”

you whined and moaned so fucking loudly, it ringing through megumi’s ears like a wicked symphony.

he pinched your nipple when you didn’t respond.

“answer me.”

thrust thrust thrust—

“n—no i didn’t!”

“no?”

he gripped your neck and sloppily ran his mouth over yours, feeling his cum on the brink of shooting out.

“m’gonna cum inside.”

“in— mmphf!— inside?”

“you don’t want it?” he let go of your neck. “cause i won’t give it to you if you don’t want it—”

“i do i do!” you scrambled and cupped his cheeks, bringing his lips back in and kissing him messily.

“give it to me gumi please!—“ hic! “eeekkk!”

hot sticky cum pumped out of his tip and into your gushy walls, your high making your toes curl as you creamed around his heavy cock feverishly, megumi’s entire body fucking shivering at the way your pussy felt like it was entirely made and molded for him.

he softly pumped himself inside and out of you, his mouth hung open in a daze as he watched his white cum slide out of your pretty hole and over his still connected dick, gently easing out after a minute and carefully setting you back down— not completely though, as he knew you’d be sore as he leaned most if not all of your body weight against him.

you held each other in a tight embrace then, your heavy breaths trying to find its normal rhythm as the warm water continued to cascade down your bodies, comfortingly.

“why don’t we have sex more often...” you mumbled.

he laughed softly, pecking the side of your head. “i was waiting for you to tell me baby. i didn’t want to pressure you.”

“i was waiting for you to tell me.” you emphasized. “i didn’t want to jump on you and just violate you—”

megumi’s chest vibrated as he laughed again, a cute boyish one that made you bite your lip.

“violate me?” he murmured, an amused smile on his face. “i’d want you to.”

“yeah?” you tilted your head, and his cheeks grew hot.

“yeah.”

finally you and megumi were in sync again, going back into each other’s routines as if the week long hiccup never happened, the both of you officially unraveling the aching knots in your chests that you hauled for seven tormenting days straight— together and attached to the hip once again as he started picking you up for your seven am classes every morning like before, you going to his practices straight after, and spending your hours sleeping in his dark cozy room this time around, snoring your little life away so megumi could recover.

and eventually, the world series arrived.

“my camera! my camera! my digital one did i bring it?!”

you flipped your purse upside down and dumped all of your things on the floor— your lip combo, compact mirror, snacks, random receipts, and small perfume bottle rolling around on the ground until your digital camera was finally in view.

your best friend cackled as she crouched down and helped you pick up your things. “you were taking pictures up megumi’s nose on the two hour drive over here yes you brought it—”

“i know i forgot i’m so nervous what if they lose what if someone fumbles what if—”

you both stood as you rambled on and she placed both of her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. “calm down! they’ll be fine! win or lose they still made it to the world series!”

the crowd roared much like the past two games, except much heavier, louder, more drilling as the music drummed through your body, the air windy but refreshing, and high pitched whistles echoing from around the stadium as everyone anticipated for the biggest game of the season.

you had lost count how many different news stations were here broadcasting the game, how many reporters you saw scrambling across the field trying to interview certain players— you too busy taking pictures of every single little thing and the both of you reapplying your lip liners over a million fucking times— even flagging down a crew member so you could take a picture with just your best friend, your backs to the camera showcasing the last names of your boyfriend’s on your jersey’s.

and when the game officially commenced and the players all went out on the field— megumi and his team did what they always do best, taking control of the scoreboard and earning runs like chump change as they worked professionally to take the trophy home, you constantly snapping pictures of megumi that your digital camera ran out of fucking storage before you even got the shot that you wanted.

eventually after a while of playing, it was megumi’s turn to hit.

“fuck! record for me please record! my camera ran out of storage oh my god use my phone please i love you—”

your best friend laughed as she took your phone from you and did what you asked, your hands on the railing and leaning over it as you anxiously watched him walk up to home plate and take position.

but instead of doing his usual faux swings and repositioned footing, megumi stepped to the side and turned his bat downward, you unable to tell what he was doing as his frame was blocking, his arm moving in various directions before he stepped back again on the home plate and repositioned himself.

your eyes trailed to the ground.

megumi had carved your initials in the dirt.

your girl friend gasped and cooed. “y/nnn!”

as megumi now did his faux swings, your bottom lip only wobbled as your eyes stayed trained to the carvings in the dirt, your heart skipping a thousand beats per minute as the thought of megumi thinking about you out there during one of the most important nights of his life, made you question repeatedly how you ever landed a man like him when all you do is talk and cry.

hit!

your eyes snapped up and you quickly wiped the corners of your eyes, megumi already running across the first two bases as the crowd roared.

“bring it home fushiguro!”

several of his teammates were cheering him on from the dugout, megumi running four runs with just one fucking hit?—

a grand slam.

and suddenly you were taken back to the day you noticed megumi for the first time, just like now with your doe eyes wide and cheeks pink, recognizing the only piece of baseball terminology you knew besides a home run.

except then he was just a stranger you were hopelessly in love with that knew how to play ball like no other.

now though, he’s a man you couldn’t ever imagine your life without. and you didn’t want to.

so as the game reached nine innings, megumi’s team running on the field in a bundle of absolute tears and yells and hollers that they won the world fucking series, all clustering together as they hoisted several players up on their shoulders, including megumi—

you and your best friend instantly booked it down there in a fit of tears.

you had no time to get your personal belongings together as you sprinted across the field like your life fucking depended on it towards megumi— him being put down by his teammates and him frantically looking around after until he spotted you, the brightest smile spreading across his face as he chucked his cap to the side and opened his arms out wide for you.

you jumped in and he spun you around, holding you tight as the screaming crowd surrounding you drowned itself out as you cried into megumi’s neck.

he pulled back, panting.

“did you see how i did a grand slam?”

you nodded rapidly.

“i did it because i knew its the only thing you would recognize!” he yelled over the noise. “so you would feel included when we won!”

oh my god.

he still remembered when you told him that?

“guummiii! how did you even calculate that?!” you cried harder, and he laughed as he spread tiny kisses all over your teary face, his eyes glimmering with absolute unadulterated happiness and bliss, the reality of having the two things he wanted most in life settling into his mind.

megumi didn’t really have a stance on religion— whether the factor is real or not something he didn’t really care about nor mind as he simply just chose to live.

but as he held you on the field, you crying for him and embracing him the way that you were, kissing him the way that you were, megumi only wanted to be covered in your favor. megumi only wanted to devote his entire life to you.

megumi only wanted to believe in you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @hiraethwa @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @vividl3ss

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syluss-littlecrow · 2 months

Text

size training with sylus

where you’re size training on Sylus’s dick. ❤️

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, big dick!sylus, size training, size kink, dear god sylus and his fat cock, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pet names, dacryphilia, it’s just sylus brain rot ❤️

w/c: 2K

a/n: I’m on Love & Deepspace fic tumblr! 😮 hope I’ll be welcomed nicely here haha. As a peace offering, this is my present to everyone (and especially the Sylus girlies)!

You shift your body slightly, trying to make yourself comfortable, on top of taking slow breaths, your heart fluttering at Sylus's soft voice coaxing you.

"That's it. Take it slowly, kitten", his voice slow and deep in your ears. But you don't see the way he's shutting his eyes and biting his inner cheek every time you squeeze around him. He's trying to pace his breathing as well, but it feels so fucking good.

You whine softly against his bare chest, his heat radiating off you, his slender fingers stroking your hair slowly, and his other hand drawing soothing circles on your thighs.

You don’t remember how it started, but your thoughts start to drift, recalling the times your mind would float whenever Sylus had his lips on yours with you straddling on his thick thighs. He would devour you, painfully slowly because he knows that’s what riles you up, and he definitely enjoys listening to your whimpers, your non-verbal pleas for him to do more to you. He’d make sure your lips are wet and messy once he’s done with you, his touches teasing and light against your skin. Sylus secretly wants you to beg for it, because he knows that he’d give in to you in a heartbeat. His fingers would cup yours that were on his chest, and the look he would give you reset all the butterflies in your stomach. You would feel his thick erection, hidden under the thin silk black bathrobe he’d always wear against your clothed pussy, and dear god, he’s so fucking big. But before you could ask, Sylus would trail his fingers to tease your wet clit and pussy, soaking in your adorable reactions he swears is enough to get him off, erasing the question of wanting him to fuck you off your brain when the pleasure from his fingers tingles through your body.

Sylus doesn’t pride himself as a generous being, but he thinks he’s always generous enough for you. He realises he enjoys having his face in between your legs, making you squirm, listening to you sob when he overstimulates you with his tongue, making sure his tongue presses and grazes fully on your clit while he listens to you fall apart, his crimson eyes locked onto you while he holds you down to take whatever he’s giving you.

He’s good at distracting you like that whenever you want to bring up the question of fucking.

This time though? Through your wet lashes from the overstimulation and hazy thoughts, all you were craving for was just to be fucked stupid by Sylus. Your hand reached out and pushed against his head. Sylus pulled back slightly, confused for a moment.

“What is it, sweetie?” He paused, his hands trailing up and down your thighs.

Your mind slowly clears, but your pussy is still pulsing from him tongue fucking you.

“Need you to fuck me, Sylus. Please. I don’t think I can take it any longer.”

Sylus is momentarily taken aback by your demand, but he realises he can’t keep holding it off, mostly because there’s only so much longer he’s able to hold back, especially when you’re begging for him like that.

“I don’t think-“

“I can take it”, you muttered stubbornly, yanking your partner towards you. You shift yourself above him, straddling his thighs, just shy of his appendage.

As much as your determination is endearing, Sylus knows your comfort should come first. And he knows very well that his cock isn’t gonna fit into you in one go, so he decides to let you gauge it for yourself—putting your hands into the string of his robe, gesturing you to loosen it.

And you do, your gaze flickering from his cool expression to his silk robe sliding off his body when you untie the string.

You swallow hard when his cock comes into view—thick, long and heavy, the tip red with a wet sheen of precum. Yeah, that’s definitely not gonna fit in you in one go. You and him solely being just wet enough wasn’t going to cut it.

Nonetheless, you’re still determined. Your eyes meet his gaze and an idea pops into his head.

He intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Tell you what, sweetie. I’ll fit into you slowly. Doesn’t matter how much you can take, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable when you’re doing so.”

“But-“

He presses his lips on the back of your hand.

“I’ll be fine. You trust me, right?”

You nod, watching the way his eyes soften before you.

So there you are, lying on your side, facing Sylus, your cunt trying to adjust to his cock as he stretches you open. It’s been a couple of days since you’ve been size training with your partner. It started off with getting his cockhead in, and that was already making you hitch your breath. Then inch by inch he sinks into you from then. He’d let you cock warm him like that and it never failed to leave you so full one session after the next.

It’d been seven days, and you barely pushed through three-quarters of his girth. Initially, Sylus still could tease you while you tried to take his cock, but as he sunk deeper into you after each session, it started getting harder for him to maintain his composure—every twitch, every squeeze—had him digging his fingers into his palm, clenching against his silk pillow and breathing a little harder.

He huffs once more when he feels you clench around his cock.

“If you’re gonna keep clenching around me like that, Kitten, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.”

You glance up, watching the way Sylus’s platinum hair becoming a tousled mess against the pillow. His crimson eyes cast to meet yours, his lips pulled into a slight frown.

“I can’t help it”, you reply, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

You hear Sylus hiss slightly once more when he twitches inside you.

“Do you think you could fit another inch in?” It almost comes off as a beg.

You inhale shakily, shifting yourself further downwards, taking another inch of his cock. The both of you gasp at the sensation.

You freeze at the thickness. How far down are you already?

“You’re almost all the way in, Kitten”, Sylus whispers, almost as if he heard your thoughts. His breathing is growing heavier by the second, and he’s forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting the remainder of his cock in. It’s dangling over him like his favourite prey.

His thumb strokes against yours, trying to distract you from the pressure on top of pressing your forehead with kisses, singing you soft praises.

Your mind is gradually turning more hazy with Sylus’s cock taking up the majority of your thoughts, on top of his body soap that’s been creeping into your olfactory senses. The more Sylus inches his cock into you, the more he’s pressing onto your g-spot, and the more it’s starting to make you see stars whenever you blink. You’re growing so sensitive that you’re feeling every throb Sylus’s cock is giving you.

Your hand is on his arm, trying to ground yourself from the slight soreness. Another strained whimper when Sylus pushes him deeper into your pussy. Slick leaks from your pussy and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Sylus.

Another kiss to your temple, another circle drawing session on your thigh.

“Do you want me to go all the way in?”

Your toes curl.

“I can take it.”

So Sylus inches his cock right to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you.

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes, but oh god you do feel so good.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

You hiccup softly. “So full.”

He chuckles. “Such a good girl.” The vibrations of his light laughter only press his tip further onto your g-spot, and it’s making your thighs shake from the impending orgasm.

“D-don’t move so much, Sylus. You’re gonna make me—“ you try to bury your head into his chest but he stops you with his fingers in your chin.

“Make you what?”

He intentionally shifts, and his cockhead hits your sensitive spots again, sending fireworks into your eyelids, and a strained moan. Sylus seems to enjoy your reactions, because then he flips you to your back, his large frame looming over you, forcing you to look up at him with your legs folded, and still with his cock in you.

Oh no.

Sylus looks down at you with the faintest glint of softness in his eyes before it completely disappears, now just hunger seeping through the red.

“Sylus!-“ you gasp, his fullness penetrating into you again, this time easily, considering the wet and sopping mess you’ve made around his cock.

He only hums in reply, then pulling out slightly before he pushes into you again. He’s found your sweet spots, and he’s not letting it go that easily.

The knot in your stomach pulls tight, and it’s making you tear up in sheer pleasure. You’re barely able to meet Sylus’s eyes, not when he’s fucking into you and has your head thrown back while you’re fighting to keep your eyelids open.

It builds and builds. Sylus probably realises it from how much you’re just pulsing on his cock. His thumb rests at the corner of your lips and you let him slip in, your glazed out eyes meeting his. It makes his heart flutter when you’re completely undone like this for him, but he’ll never admit it, at least, not yet.

“Gonna cum. Fuck, it’s so much, Sylus-“ you whimper before your mind completely melts away.

“Release all you want on me, sweetie. That’s my good girl.”

That’s enough to send you over the edge—your orgasm hitting you like waves, tingling through your body like electricity, the pleasure eating you up over and over again. Sylus watches affectionately while you fall apart on his cock—the way you’re writhing and squirming, the way his name leaves your lips after every moan, the way your pussy creams so much on his cock. He thinks he’s doomed because he never gonna get enough.

“Looks like a little kitten made a mess”, Sylus teases. He watches the way cream pools at the base of his cock when he pulls out slightly, only to thrust back into you again. His eyes flutter shut at the tight warmth eating him up, groans replacing his words.

“Now, can I make a mess in you?”

Your watery eyes meet his, and he’s equally about to lose all composure. You cup his cheeks, taking him by surprise, before giving him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, and then you nod. Said corner of his lips lift in satisfaction at your approval.

He’s just ready to ruin you.

His strokes become more heavy, the overstimulation shutting your brain off. Nothing but pleasure is surging through your nerves now. You’re even holding up your legs so Sylus can fuck you deeper.

“Now be a good girl and take all of it”, he mutters huskily, burying his face against the crook of your neck, his eyes snapped shut and his eyebrows furrowed.

Despite the fact that you don’t get to see the way Sylus’s face contorts in pleasure when his orgasm hits him, his groans right in your ears serve you satisfied for now while thick white spurts into your abused pussy, filling you up all the way, some seeping past your plugged hole.

You don’t realise how much you’ve clawed down Sylus’s back while he was emptying himself into you.

Well, he doesn’t need to know anyway.

Sylus stays above you for a moment, the both of you catching your breaths. He still has the energy to plant more bites on your neck while you stroke his hair.

He pulls back to look at your face properly, and all you can think of is how fucking good he looks post-fuck—messy, sweaty, and so fucking delicious-looking. His fingers brush away your strands of hair, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip.

“You’re truly gonna be the death of me, sweetie.”

#love and deepspace #love and deep space sylus #qin che #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus qin #sylusposting #l&ds sylus #sylus #sylus smut #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lnds sylus #love and deep space smut #lnds smut #l&ds smut

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alexiroflife · 1 month

Text

jjk men calling you annoying...

"hi! ik u have a few reqs to do and ur going on vacation but i was reading some of ur works and saw u did a headcannon for calling jjk men annoying. i was thinking what if u did the opposite w the jjk men calling reader annoying? if u dont decide to do this thats okay! cant wait to eat up your other upcoming fics <3" -anon

some angst, jjk men being assholes (except for nanami)

satoru, suguru, kento, choso, toji, sukuna

satoru gojo:

normally, satoru is the one that is considered to be annoying. every higher up, coworker, and student of his alike would agree that satoru’s personality is pestering on its own, for his behavior doesn’t align with the severity of the jujutsu world in the eyes of others.

satoru has never cared how others judged him, for he often takes to picking on others for the sake of getting a reaction. he enjoys lightening the mood of drab situations, therefore he’s tossing around inappropriate jokes during meetings, teasing utahime for the umpteenth time, or trying to force megumi into spending quality time with him while the sixteen year old does his best to pretend he doesn’t know him in public.

and with you, he’s far worse. satoru can not bear being away from you or your attention being focused into anything other than him for longer than two minutes, and he’s always making an excuse to abandon whatever he’s doing to be by your side. satoru is the very definition of clingy, and while everyone finds it annoying, you can not deny that you adore how the strongest glues himself to you as though he can not bear for the two of you to be parted.

those around him believe it’s impossible for someone as annoying as gojo to actually be annoyed by anything, but you know what pisses him off. you know that he can not stand the jujutsu higher ups and how they antagonize children who were given no choice but to live the lives they lead. he can not stand the way they order him around to carry out unfavorable tasks with no regard for his past experiences or the experiences of the students that he is meant to monitor. he can not stand the lectures, the judgmental tones, the expectation of respect when it is not given in return.

and he can not stand when he is forced to attend hearings or meetings with them, where he has to listen to them drone on and on about how irresponsible he is when satoru is the only one truly looking out for the good of all groups. they demand so much of him, yet treat him like trash in return. nothing peeves him off more.

he knows that you understand this about him as a jujutsu sorcerer yourself, but you have the tendency to be more tolerant of injustices than he is. what he means is that you know how to save face for the sake of your own sanity and pay the elders no mind whilst simultaneously making them think that you are in cooperation with them. you know how to feign manners and respect, which satoru does not bother to do.

consequently, when you tell him that the upcoming meeting that he has scheduled with the higher ups is one he should attend instead of skipping due to its level of importance, he can’t help but be irritated with you.

“i’m just saying, satoru,” you say into the speaker with your phone pressed to your ear. the blue eyed man is on his way to said meeting after you practically forced him to attend, and he’s not at all happy about it. “once you’re in there, you’ll be out in no time.”

“(y/n), somehow those pricks make a half an hour feel like two,” your boyfriend complained into the phone. you place your hand on your hip and look up to the ceiling.

“you’re being so pessimistic about it,” you sigh. “it’s gonna be worse the worse you talk about it.”

“no, it’s gonna be bad regardless because these higher ups don’t know up from down or left from right.”

you can tell he’s growing aggravated, which was the opposite effect you wanted this call to have. you lower your head and attempt to shift, to reassure him in a different way.

“it’s gonna be okay, toru,” you tell him. “you’re above these people anyway, no matter what the hierarchy at this school is-“

“if you really thought that, you wouldn’t have made me go.”

you frown. “you didn’t really have a choice with this one, you know that right? whether you like the assholes or not, the meeting itself is important. you need to be there.”

“i really wish you’d stop saying that,” he exhales, agitatedly.

“stop saying what?” you scrunch your face, hand falling from your hip. “that it’s your responsibility?”

“yeah, actually,” he snaps. “hell, you’re starting to sound just like everyone else.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you scoff. “satoru, i’m just trying to help you. sometimes you just have to suck it up and deal.”

“suck it up?” he repeats incredulously. “i suck it up every day of my life. everyone wants me to do something for them, but expects me not to have my own opinions in return and that shit doesn’t make any sense.”

“that’s not what i’m trying to say-“

“then what are you trying to say? to just go along with all the messed up shit the higher ups want me to do?”

“no.”

“then what?”

“to just attend a meeting for the sake of your job, satoru. my god, that’s all.”

he tchs, and you can imagine him rolling his eyes on the other line. “fine. whatever.”

“what’s with your attitude? i’m genuinely just trying to look out for you, like…?”

“you’re not helping, (y/n). you’re being annoying.”

his words sting, and you stand still in the hall to your classroom as you register satoru’s tone and accusation. there’s silence, and satoru knows that when you say nothing more, he’s crossed a line.

even so, he’s too heated currently to own up to it in this moment, so he lets the silence swallow you both as he walks.

“okay,” you mumble apathetically after a while. “bye, satoru.”

you hear him prepare to say something, but your thumb is already hiding the end call button.

throughout the next half and hour, you try your best to focus on teaching your lesson to the second years, but you find yourself struggling.

you understand satoru’s frustrations with the higher ups, but to take that frustration out on you is completely uncalled for.

and to call you annoying? for ensuring that he doesn’t further endanger his already shaky position with the the authorities over him? how ungrateful is that! how could he label you as a disturbance to him when all you’ve ever done was try to lighten his load?

you don’t understand it. and it hurts to know that one little thing in comparison to the plethora of clingy annoyances that satoru has the habit of displaying that you don’t even find aggravating is enough to send him over the edge.

you’re aggressively erasing your chalkboard at the end of your lesson when you hear the sound of air flushing and papers fluttering behind you. immediately, you feel satoru’s presence much to your displeasure.

“baby?” he calls you tentatively, though you already know full well that he is there in your vacant room. you don’t reply, continuing to swipe your eraser over the chalk. “baby, please don’t ignore me,” he sighs guiltily. “can i… can we just talk?”

“get out, satoru.”

you can physically feel Satoru’s mannerisms droop behind you, but you do not fall for it. he deserves your standoffishness, your unwillingness to engage.

“i just wanna talk, (y/n)… just five minutes?”

you clench your jaw, brows angling tensely as his earlier words run through your mind again and again. your pace picks up and your movements grow harsher.

before you know it, you feel the white haired man brushing behind you inches away, reaching a hand to your shoulder. “(y/n)?”

“stop!” you rip away, stepping back. satoru retracts his hand quickly, crystal eyes blown wide as he watches you. you slam your eraser down onto the ledge and hold your hands up. “just stop! you don’t get to be rude to me and then just come back around as if everything’s okay. what if I don’t want to talk to you?”

having removed his blindfold before coming here, you can see the pain and remorse circling in his gaze. “pretty, i didn’t mean to say what i said,” he starts again slowly. “i-i’m sorry, i was just overstimulated and angry- not even at you, and you were telling me to do something I didn’t want to do but had to do, then i…” he huffs. “i’m so sorry.”

you fold your arms and stare harshly at the board, brows twitching as satoru’s smooth, genuine apology flows through your ears.

when you still don’t say anything, satoru’s mouth tugs downward and his lashes fluttere prettily over his cheek. “it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk to me or see me right now. i was being shitty, and i didn’t mean it, baby. i just had to come and tell you that as soon as the meeting was over… and you were right. i needed to be there.”

you close your eyes. “why don’t you ever listen to me?”

satoru practically jumps when he hears you speak. “what did you say?”

“you never listen to me, toru,” you look at him desperately. “you always do what you want to do, and when i have to make you do something, you pout. is what i say really that unimportant to you?”

“no,” he rushes out, swooping in to stand before you so he can meet your eyes up close. “no, no, no. no, that’s not it.”

“then what is it?”

“i listen to you, baby. i do, i just struggle when you give me suggestions about work because we have completely different approaches. you play by the rules more and i do what i think is best even if it’s not what I’m told is best. which is okay. i’m not saying that either way is better than the other, it’s just that difference between us clashes sometimes.”

you hum.

“but that doesn’t mean i don’t listen, or don’t respect you, (y/n). i respect you more than anyone i know.”

“then you should act like it.”

“i know,” he pushed out his bottom lip, taking your forearms in his hands. “i know, i can be all over the place sometimes. i’m sorry pretty girl.”

you wish you could stay angry, but satoru’s touch almost instantly melts away the tension in your body. almost.

“please don’t call me annoying like that again,” you look over him. “seriously, that wasn’t nice.”

“never,” he swears. “i promise, never again. i don’t even know why it came out in the first time. please forgive me, baby, I’m sorry.”

you exhale, and before you can respond, satoru is ducking down and suffocating your face with a plethora of kisses from your forehead to cheeks and down to your jaw. murmurs of apologizes slip through as he attacks you, and you squeal as you try turn away.

“okay!” you shout, pushing at his chest. “i forgive you, get off!”

“i love youuu,” he lands a particularly long kiss to your nose. “so much. let me take you out tonight to apologize properly, pretty. will you let me?”

you stifle a smile, keeping your hands to your chest as you glare up at him when he pulls away with a grin. “fine.”

suguru geto:

suguru loves you dearly, truly he does, but he notices that the longer he is in a relationship with you, the more entitled you become. granted, he spoils the hell out of you because you’re his one and only, therefore he only feels it is appropriate to shower you with the unconditional love that he has for you.

you know that suguru rarely ever says no to you. hell, he doesn’t want to deny you of the things you ask of him because he should be the person that you always come to for anything. along with his girls, you’ve stolen his heart, and his love language is taking care of you - making you rotten.

so when suguru can not abide by what you demand, you pout and poke and prod and pester. in some ways, you remind him of how satoru used to behave in his company, so commanding of what you want from him in the most combative, brattiest way that it has him rubbing the space between his forehead with angled brows.

and the attitude on you is criminal. suguru knows he can not necessarily talk because his attitude is just as bad, but the moment suguru disagrees with you about something, you make it a point keep pressing the matter sassily.

there are a million things that suguru finds to be more of a pain to his peace than you, but he can not deny that when you get on his nerves, you truly tick him off.

suguru is known to have very little patience in general. he chalks it up to his occupation, having to deal with idiotic human beings all day to the point where it wears down his capacity for bullshit. he needs things to resolve themselves at his pace in order to feel as though he can go about his day, but when they don’t, it frustrates him to no end.

that is why when you fail to give it a rest after suguru has told you no four times now to getting lunch with you because he has business to take care of, he is beginning to lose his cool.

“(y/n),” suguru exhales your name in exasperation. he’s on his way out of the front door. “angel, you know i’m busy today. you’re usually a lot more understanding when it comes to my schedule, i don’t know where the disconnect is right now.”

you’re growing upset, for you’ve never enjoyed watching suguru leave, but for some reason you are feeling all the more sensitive to his departure today. the dark haired cult leader has been so busy lately that you and the girls have hardly been able to catch him for longer than five minutes when he’s home. you want to sit and talk with him, to at least have a quick thirty minute meal together, but he’s still refusing you, and you never fair well with being refused by geto.

“but suguru,” you curl your brows and gaze at him sadly. “I’m just asking for one day. that’s all, we don’t even need to be out long. i already have a place in mind that’s right around the corner from the group- i can even pick you up. you won’t have to worry about a thing. please, just this once?”

the hazel eyed man can not stand saying no to you, even more so when you look at him with such pleading in your eyes, but he’s told you a hundred times that he can’t do what you please today. as much as he’d love to go to lunch with you, there are no exceptions. he’s already pushing himself behind by trying to reason with you.

“the answer is no, (y/n),” he tells you with soft sternness. your frown deepens leading Suguru to walk over to you. he guides his hand to your waist and presses a kiss to your forehead in an attempt to make you feel better. “i’m sorry. i know things haven’t been the best lately with me being home, but i’m trying my best.”

you want to be more supportive, but you miss suguru. you do, and to feel like a second priority to a cult he doesn’t even like makes you upset.

you grumble incoherently under your breath and cross your arms. suguru feels your stature shift, and he pulls away to eye you. you avoid his gaze purposefully, and suguru instantly knows what’s going on with you.

“don’t start,” he advises as a warning. you don’t take well to the comment, the muscles in your face tightening as you go to ease away from suguru’s grasp. he doesn’t have time for this right now. “i mean it.”

“i’m not even doing anything,” you murmur, looking down as suguru examines you closely.

“you’re sulking.”

“okay, and maybe that’s because i don’t want my boyfriend to leave?” you snap.

“i know, (y/n). you’re acting like i want to leave too, but this is work.”

“and clearly work’s more important now,” you roll your eyes.

suguru shakes his head and pulls away with narrow eyes. “you’re being incredibly irritating right now.”

you freeze, geto’s words stabbing you through the chest like a stake to the heart. “what?” you repeat weakly, your grit having gone.

“you aren’t listening to me. it’s getting old and it’s irritating,” he says again, this time as he turns away and walks back to the door.

you stare at his back blankly. your heart hammers against your chest, and your face falls. normally when you behave a certain way that suguru doesn’t appreciate, he spends his time either circling back and trying to reach and understand or punishing you. but now, he’s just walking away with no intention of doing either. you expected more, and you hadn’t expected for him to outright call you annoying.

sure, you push a little too much sometimes, but annoying? all you want is him. is it annoying to desire such a simple thing?

“i’ll be home later, alright? we can talk about this when i get back,” he tells you, pulling the door open and allowing the sunlight to peer in. when you do not respond, he speaks again in annoyance. “alright?”

you still don’t answer, and this time he turns over his shoulder to see what is keeping you from giving him a verbal affirmation.

his face relaxes, however, when he says you standing silently with your hands at your sides. your gaze has turned to one of subtle embarrassment as you frown, mulling over suguru’s emotions in a less stubborn, more deflated manner.

despite suguru’s irritation with you, the moment he sees your discomfort, he’s flipping the switch in an instant.

slowly, he shuts the door again without a word. he figures it won’t hurt anyone to be another five minutes late, for he is the founder of the religious group after all. what he says goes, and he will not leave until this mild conflict with you is sorted out.

he walks over and takes your head in his hands, tilting your face up to reveal your big, shiny eyes. with another quiet sigh, he’s taking one hand and rubbing your shoulder as he holds your stare.

“i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he tells you gently, immediately knowing what is plaguing you. “i’m just frustrated.”

“…frustrated with me?” you ask slowly.

he presses his lips together. “yeah, angel. i am a little bit,” he confesses honestly. while this isn’t the response you wanted, geto knows it’s the response you need to hear… even if you struggle to accept it, your head nodding stiffly but your eyes telling a story of humiliation. and he hates it. he hates how unhappy you look, but no good has ever come from partners lying to one another about how they feel.

“but,” you start as suguru’s swipes a thumb over your brow lovingly. “suguru, all i wanted was to have lunch with you. is that such a crazy thing? you’re hardly around anymore.”

“i know, (y/n), and no it’s not, but you’re not respecting the fact that while i want to more than anything, i can’t. not today,” he says once more. “i do this for you and the girls too, you know. it’s not just for me. any money i make is yours, and if i need to work my ass off to provide for you and our future, i will. and it’s not fair for you to throw a fit when i can’t drop all of that when you ask me to.”

it’s a hard pill for you to swallow, but you know that suguru’s point is more than valid.

you inhale and exhale deeply, his touch swarming you tenderly despite how he feels. “I’m sorry,” you apologize. “im sorry for pushing. i just want you here. it gets hard sometimes, you know?”

“I know.”

he pulls your face in to kiss your cheek softly, your hand going to cradle his wrists.

“and i’m sorry if you’ve felt neglected in any way, and for calling you irritating. there was probably a better way for me to say that.”

“it’s okay,” you mumble as pulls away. “i probably was being annoying anyway...”

geto smiles softly. “you were,” he chuckles, and you gap at him.

“suguru,” you frown and he laughs again.

“sorry.” the hazel eyed man leans in to capture your lips in a soft kiss before you can pour any longer, eyes gleaming kindly when he draws back. he at least does not look aggravated any longer, his features much calmer than before. “how about a day out this weekend? you, me, and the girls.”

your eyes light up. “really? you’re sure?”

“yeah, angel,” he nods. “i miss you all too, you know. you’re all i think about when I’m dealing with those monkeys all day.”

“…can we maybe go to the farmer’s market?” you suggest. “i wanna get some stuff to make a big dinner for us, and the girls want to get some flowers.”

“absolutely we can. sounds great.”

“thank you,” you smile, wrapping your arms over his neck and tugging him down into a tight hug. suguru laughs gently, sliding his arms around you. “i hope you have a good day today. i won’t pester you about work anymore.”

“okay, baby,” he rubs your back. “I gotta go now, okay? i’ll try not to be out late. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

kento nanami:

despite kento’s remarkable talent in serving you as your partner, he is still a human being subject to human emotions. when he’s annoyed with you, he doesn’t make it your problem. he simply makes it known that he is beginning to be plagued by the feeling, and though it hurts your feelings, you understand and give him the space he needs.

kento does not get irritated with you often at all. you are a gift upon his stressful life, and it’s difficult for you to pose as a source of stress when the rest of his life is already so anxiety-inducing. you’re his everything, and even when he does get ever so slightly annoyed with you, it’s never at the same level as other factors - like gojo. you don’t even begin to compare.

the only time nanami finds himself growing upset because of you is when you choose not to listen to or communicate with him.

nanami works hard to put your needs before his own and he is more than happy to do so. he feels it is the only way things should be, for as long as you are happy and well cared for, he is content.

however, there are moments when he does so that can come off to you as a tad overbearing. he cares for your physical and mental wellbeing, so that also comes with constant check ins about whether you’re eating properly or how much sleep you’re getting. it’s sweet, his persistent doting, but you don’t always fair well with how often he’s interrogating you about your lifestyle when he literally witnesses every second of what you do as your fiancé.

and of course, when you react poorly by getting even the slightest hint of an attitude or portray your own annoyance in a poor manner, nanami, who always tries his best to find a solution to problems if you are bothered by something, is bothered himself when you do not cooperate.

nanami is incredibly patient with you, and he tries his best to practice patient with you when he internally feels you are being unreasonable.

so he resorts to silence as he ponders what to do next. you’re both sitting at the kitchen table as tension swirls about. your knee is frantically bouncing as you glare ahead. you don’t like when kento does something to bother you, for everything he does is so perfect you feel like you don’t have a right to be bothered, and you rarely ever are. and you may try to hide when you’re upset, but nanami sees you so clearly. he knows you like the back of his hand, therefore, there is no hiding.

and of course, nanami would never grow annoyed with what you feel… it’s how you communicate with him when you feel a certain way. you shut down and make it impossible for him to talk through it, and as someone who likes to work through things while they are occurring, it’s a bit of a pain when you go quiet and refuse to give him anything.

now, you both sit rather annoyed with one another, for that is likely the only instance nanami will feel some sort of irritation sparked by you. the blonde taps his finger against the table with his legs crossed, unsure of how to move forward. he’s tried calling your name, tried asking you what’s wrong, tried suggesting anything he can do to fix it, but you, afraid to even further speak truth into your emotions, reply with shrugs and mute shakes of your head.

it takes at least another few minutes for nanami to rise slowly, fixing the collar of his shirt and clearing his throat you look up and see by his rigid posture that he is not in the happiest of spirits, and when you finally notice, you realize that he had been silent along with you for quite some time now, his series of questions having ceased.

“i am going for a drive,” he announces formally. you blink up at him, your knee still bouncing. his chocolate eyes meet yours with a hefty sigh. “i won’t be longer than forty minutes.”

forty?!

“…okay,” is the very first word you have said in a while, and nanami nods curtly. though he appears indifferent, his shoulders are tense, his jaw is taut, and a dent creases the space between his brows. you can tell by these signs that he has grown to match your previous feelings. “where are you going?”

“to clear my head. i don’t believe anything productive will come from the both of us sitting here like this.”

you furrow your brows. “are you angry with me now?”

“no,” he gathers his keys. “i am not angry. only, admittedly, a bit perturbed,” he says without looking at you.

you know that nanami had annoyed you first, but to hear him tell you so is humbling nonetheless. what reason does he have to be annoyed? what did you do?

“um,” you stumble. “why…?”

the prospect of you now trying to interrogate him after he had spent so much time trying to get through to you, or at least a word out, does very little to ease the man.

he lifts a hand, guiding his palm out to ease the conversation before it can escalate. “(y/n), i’m not in any state to talk about this right now. give me a bit and i will be back.”

his eyes find yours to ensure that you see that earnest in his brow hues, and your shoulders slump, your knee stilling completely.

“is that alright?”

you nod slowly. “yes. that's alright.”

kento nods again, swiping up his jacket from the back of his chair before stepping out of the door, clicking it shut behind him.

you reel in his absence, sitting in the aftermath. maybe you reacted poorly… but you couldn’t help it. you don’t always enjoy being overwhelmed with a series of questions from your boyfriend as though he is your doctor or father. sometimes you just wish to be.

you know he only does so out of concern. you know he loves you, better than anyone has ever loved you, but your reaction had been involuntary.

the look on nanami’s face only proved that you should have handled the situation differently. you hate when he’s upset, but that way of thinking alone is unfair. he likely hates when you’re upset too, and you shut down when he was trying to help.

as guilt swarms you, you retreat to the living room where you mindlessly flip through the tv channels, your focus elsewhere.

kento ends up returning hardly twenty minutes later. you look in surprise to the door as he enters with takeout in his hands. he looks up, his face a bit more relaxed as he enters.

neither of you speak as he kicks his shoes off at the door and makes his way toward you. he sets the bags of food down on the coffee table before you and slowly sits down next to you, hands to his thighs.

“i got us dinner,” he says as you shuffle to make room for him. the aroma of your favorite thai food fills your senses and makes you become rather aware to your hunger, for you haven’t eaten in a while.

kento sits with his forearm resting on his knee, his body facing you. you look away, embarrassed to even speak to him, though you do whisper a ‘thank you’ that is only audible to nanami because he is seated right beside you.

he reaches a hand out to hold yours, his other sliding over top to caress the back of it. “honey,” he starts softly. “I don’t want this to go on longer than it should.”

“you’re back earlier than you said,” you mention, looking down at his hands over yours.

“i didn’t need to be gone long to want to sit down with you about this again.” you nod. “are you okay?” he asks you, and you nod again.

“yeah, are you?”

“i’m better,” he answers. “my intention was not to leave on a bad note so abruptly. i just needed a moment to myself.”

“no, i understand, ken. i don’t blame you for taking a step back.”

“are you okay with me telling you why i was upset?”

“of course i am.”

he gives a gentle smile before proceeding. “it seems that every time i try to work through something with you, you do not wish to cooperate. if you were to tell me that you need space before explaining, i would understand better and give you time, but you say nothing. you barely even look at me, and i try my best to give you the patience you deserve but you do not do the same for me.”

“it’s not that- I wasn’t trying to be impatient with you, it’s just that sometimes i don’t want to talk about things.”

“then I would prefer it if you’d say that instead of shutting me out, because then i’m left to pick up the pieces with nothing to go off of,” he pleads. “and it’s unhealthy for you to harbor everything that bothers you inside. you could get sick doing that, and it hinders our communication.”

you can tell he is about to give you another lecture, which is what led you here in the first place. you take in a deep breath and try to regulate yourself, glancing down. “yeah, i hear you,” you mutter. “i just get… i don’t know, it feels weird to tell you when something you’ve done bothers me.”

“why, sweetheart?”

“because you’re so good to me,” you frown. “you don’t deserve to hear that i’m upset with you for probably no reason.”

“look at me, honey.” you oblige, locking eyes with his once again shyly. “as good as i am to you and you are to me, getting angry or upset or irritated with one another is normal. it’s healthy. no relationship is free of trials, and if this is our worst problem, i’d confidently say that we are doing quite well.”

you listen to him carefully, taking in his words as you look over his face.

“now, will you tell me what it was i did to upset you earlier?”

“it’s so stupid, ken.”

“your feelings are not stupid. please. i need to know so i don’t repeat my mistakes.”

you huff and eventually give in. “well, sometimes... you do this thing… where you lecture me… and i appreciate you looking out for me all the time, but sometimes when you ask me a hundred things at once about stuff that I’m more than aware of as an adult, it makes me feel like you’re patronizing me.”

a stern look of realization crosses the blonde’s features. “i had no idea.”

“i mean… i never told you, so i was getting upset with you for something you weren’t even aware of,” you exhale. “i’m really sorry, kento. I struggle with communicating certain things, and i shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so irritated in the first place.”

“there’s no need for you to apologize,” he dismisses. “i apologize for making you feel as though I’ve been speaking down to you. i only check in so often because i care.”

“i know,” you lean in. “and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“but i can see how it may be a bit overbearing,” he admits. “i’ll try to mind myself in the future.”

“oh, it’s okay, ken,” you lift your hand to his cheek, smoothing a thumb over his cheekbone. “you’re perfect, baby. i’m sorry if i made you feel otherwise.”

“i am far from perfection, my love,” he kisses your inner palm. “i make plenty of mistakes.”

“so do i, clearly,” you chuckle.

he smiles again, and this time it reaches his warm eyes. “yes, but the way i see it, you would not be perfect without them.”

choso kamo:

choso, bless his heart, has never found anything you do to be even remotely close to what he could find annoying. everything you do in his eyes is perfect, flawless, and he clings to you so much that he finds it impossible to think of your actions or words as something that poses as an aggravation to him.

what he finds irritating is when yuji will borrow his shirts without asking and fail to return them for days, or when he’s been assigned on a mission and it lasts far longer than he intended to be there, the task cutting into time he could be spending with you, or even when other people serve as a nuisance to you. you have never, ever been on the list of things that get on his nerves, and he doesn’t think you ever will be.

that’s why he feels such guilt when he starts to feel that familiar sense of annoyance bubbling in his chest when you keep asking him to let you know about his plans for the weekend.

you’ve asked him numerous times at this point, and he has given you the same answer: he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing with his brother or when he’ll be home, and that he’d let you know as soon as he figures it out. but you know that by the time he ‘figures it out’ it will be past the time you need to plan around his absence.

you’re an organized person, and you like to know in advance what is happening in your boyfriend’s life so that you can either prepare to spend some time with him or not waste the effort looking forward to doing so if he will be out late. this is especially a big deal to you because choso tends to get carried away when spending time with his little brother. the brunette loves his family so dearly, and you have always admired how fiercely he cares for those close to him, but his tendency to just go along with whatever yuji’s hyper mind thinks of on the spot without having the sense to think of how it will impact his brother’s girlfriend yet always gets to you.

you want choso to spend time with his brother, you do, but you just wish that he would have the decency of letting you in on what he plans to do on the days they are together more often.

therefore, it is friday and you continue to ask him to let you know what the plans are, and choso, still not completely understanding of what you want, is growing tired of the nagging.

“i already told you, love,” he reasons as best as he can with you, his voice dipping lower. “i don’t know how long we’ll be out. i promise you i’ll let you know.”

you’re moving about the kitchen while choso stands at the corner, eyes heavy as he watches you. he’s trying his hardest to mask his growing agitation, for he knows that you are very keen on picking up on his tells that reveal his emotions. when he’s aggravated, his brows angle ever so slightly and his lids weigh over bored vision, his lips curled in a frown.

you haven’t looked at him yet. your back is to him as your rummage through your fridge. “yeah, cho, you said that already, and you say that every time you go out,” you close the fridge door, carton of eggs in your hand for you to prepare lunch.

“and i always come back,” he says, shrugging slightly. “I don’t understand what the problem is… i’d never stay out all night without coming back.”

“it’s not about you coming back or not, it’s about when you come back,” you try to explain, placing the eggs on the counter to turn and reaching to grab a bowl. “i’ve definitely talked about this before, right? sometimes i stay up for you or want to hang out with you when you get back, but you never give me an estimated time when you’re with your brother so i can plan around it.”

choso exhales through his nose slowly, looking down. “the point is that if i knew, i’d tell you…”

you look up, catching the dipped pitch in his tone, and tilt your head to the side upon taking in his stature. he’s pouting.

you stop what your doing, pressing your hands to the ledge of the other side of the counter and leaning over with a suspicious look.

“are you alright?” you ask slowly.

choso meets your eye, a hint of a deer in in headlights look capturing him. “yes,” he says stiffly, quickly, and you are not convinced whatsoever.

“you sure? because your face says otherwise,” you nod toward him.

conflict is pretty foreign to the two of you within your relationship. neither of you ever want to upset the other, so in tiptoeing around certain issues, a lot of them are either brushed over and pent up. choso specifically things it’s damn near a sin to be upset with you, and you him, for he still does not understand certain inner workings of human connections.

he does not want to ruin what he has with you, and he does not comprehend why he is growing annoyed with someone he cherishes so much. he still loves you, but he can’t help this feeling. it burdens him with guilt, and he does not know how to respond once you catch him.

“is something bothering you?” you ask carefully. “are you upset because i keep asking about this weekend?”

choso doesn’t respond. he feels like it’s a trap, for he would never lie to you but to admit that he’s annoyed is an entirely different ball park that he is horrified to step into. he looks at you shamefully, face still tense but he’s trying hard to relax, to mask the way he truly feels.

you raise a brow. “…choso?”

“i’m fine,” he tells you. once again, he’s answering far too quickly.

“okay,” you exhale, shifting on your feet. choso watches you anxiously, keeping incredibly still as though moving will make the earth shatter. “I know you really well, cho. clearly the conversation is bothering you.” after another moment of silence from your boyfriend, you continue. “you can be honest with me, or else you’ll just be carrying this around with you all day.”

“…i don’t wanna upset you,” he eventually murmurs.

“I understand, but that’s not realistic,” you say with subtle sternness in your tone. “just like it’s not realistic to pretend like you aren’t upset right now when i can clearly tell you are. we both have rights to feeling whatever we feel, so just… come on, tell me what’s going on.”

with a pensive expression, choso slowly allows himself to give in. “it’s just that…” he begins hesitantly. “i’m not really sure what you want me to tell you anymore. about my plans.”

“i'm not asking anything out of the question, i just want you to plan more for my sake.”

“but i keep repeating myself when i tell you that yuji and i don’t plan… it’s a little…”

“it’s a little what?”

“just… kind of… annoying.”

you reel, staring at choso incredulously. you never thought you would have seen the day where your sweet significant other, horrified of touching you the wrong way, would call you annoying. admittedly, you’re a little wounded. you haven’t done anything wrong, and yet choso is aggravated by your desire to simply know what time he’s coming home. you’re not asking for too much. you hardly believe you’re asking for anything at all. you know that choso can be irrational, but never with you. never like this.

you nod to yourself slowly, pursing your lips. choso eyes you carefully, uncertain of how his own words have landed. you wanted him to be honest, and this is how he’s feeling. should he have just lied? should he have kept it to himself anyway?

suddenly, you resume what you are doing and turn away from choso wordlessly. the violet eyed man’s eyes widen as you go searching for a pan, and air of intensity about you.

“(y/n)?” he says your name cautiously after a while of you shuffling about. “you okay?”

“it’s cool,” you respond shortly, and choso shrinks.

he moves to round the counter to approach you slowly, but you do not slow yourself when you notice him moving into the kitchen beside you. “i don’t think it is…”

“choso, i know how you feel now and that’s that. i’ll leave it be.”

you sound mad. choso doesn’t like it at all, and he’s unsure of how to even speak to you this way. he doesn’t want to further ruin your mood, but he has to make sure you’re alright… that he didn’t cross some sort of line.

“i’m sorry,” he hastily apologizes. “I wasn’t trying to make things worse.”

“don’t apologize for what you feel,” you strictly say, moving to the other side of the kitchen the second choso gets close to you.

he stops, his traces of annoyance having completely washed away. “but you’re mad now.”

“i’m not mad, i just- i’m a little annoyed too now.”

he deflates. “oh,” he mumbles, hands falling to his sides. “then, what do what do now?”

you exhale, taking a moment to pause and turn to face choso from the other side of the space. “i wanna talk about why i’m irritated.”

“okay… and that won’t make it worse?”

“no, because i’ll at least be getting my point across.”

he nods dejectedly. “alright. why are you upset?”

“because you won’t take a second to put yourself in my shoes and understand that planning for my sake now that we live together will help ease my anxiety,” you explain, your hand moving about as you emphasize your stance. “i don’t care how long you and yuji are out. that’s not the point, and i know you don’t plan, but I’m asking you to at least start to, because i get tired of falling asleep waiting for you because i don’t know when you’re coming home. if i knew in advance, i wouldn’t have to stay up or get my hopes up about you coming back at a certain time. and then you tell me that i’m annoying you because i just want to be informed. like, that’s a little rude, choso. it’s basically like you saying you don’t care what i ask for.”

“i do care,” he cuts in passionately, brows knitted with a look of guilted sadness. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know it was like that for you.”

“because you never bothered to ask.”

“i’m sorry,” he says again. “i shouldn’t have called you annoying. that was mean. you just… told me to be honest, so i said what i was thinking.”

“that’s another thing, choso, we’re not perfect. we’re people and we react to things differently. this isn’t the last time we’ll be annoyed with each other.”

“i don’t like that,” he grumbles.

“we don’t have to like it, but that’s just how things are. it doesn’t mean we love each other any less, and we’re not always going to agree on why we’re annoyed with one another.”

“…are we fighting?”

you scoff a slight, tired laugh and shake your head. “no, we’re not fighting. we’re just talking.”

“okay,” he nods. “well, i’m sorry. i am. i’ll try to do better about planning for you. and you’re not annoying, (y/n). i love you.”

you soften. “i love you too, cho, just please be more mindful of how you react sometimes.”

“i will,” he mumbles. “…can i… i mean, is it wrong to ask you for a hug or do you need some time?”

“come over here,” you beckon him over. the brunette is quick to comply, stepping heavily over to you and burying his face in your neck. you wrap your arms around his frame as he holds you, murmuring numerous apologies to you over and over in your ear.

“maybe i’ll just stay home,” he suggests, mumbling into your skin.

“you don’t need to do that, cho, that’s not what i was asking of you.”

“i know, but i’d rather stay in with you anyway. or maybe we can make it a group thing if you want to come with.”

“i’ll see how i feel this weekend, but that’s sounds great, baby. thank you.”

toji fushiguro:

toji has a habit of getting caught up in his stress accumulated from the day. he’ll return home grumpily, muscles twitching and lips tight in a scowl. his back aches and his head hurts, and all he wants to do is crawl up into bed with you and snooze for the rest of the night.

of course, this isn’t always plausible. life presents its daily interferences that throw off his plans of laziness with the woman he loves, and sometimes, the woman he loves herself is the very thing standing in the way of his tranquility.

you don’t do so on purpose. while toji leads his life of chaos and crime, you busy yourself with your own less illegal tasks, and those tasks and your desires by the end of the day don’t always match his. and toji, despite how wholly he loves you, has the unintentional tendency to be selfish, for it’s how he’s lived his whole life before meeting you.

and that tendency especially shines through when his mind is clouded by exhaustion. if he wants you to lay still with him for the rest of the night, why can’t he? why the hell do you have to run out to the store instead? or finish up an assignment that takes an extra hour and a half to complete? or try to talk to him about your day when he just wants peace and quiet in your wordless physical presence?

it ticks him off, and he’s already moody enough before he comes home to realize that he is not going to get what his mind and heart have been set on for hours. he tries his best not to take things out on you when he is in a healthy, normal conscious state, but he can not help it at the worst of times. before he knows it, he’s snapping at you all because you wanted to show him an album of pictures you came across during your visit to your parents today.

“oh!” you gasp excitedly, leaning into toji’s shoulder as you lounge with him on the bed, your phone presenting itself to his face. you’re propped up with your back to the headboard while toji is laid flat against the pillow with a sour expression. “and this one is from halloween when i was eleven! holy shit, look at my braces! damn, they really threw off the whole costume. i still look cute though, don't i?"

toji doesn't know how you haven't noticed his lack of response as you swipe through photo after photo, your voice a blabber of nonsense in his ear as he closes his eyes in vexation. he can feel himself nearing his last straw as you shift your entire conversation enthusiastically, diving into some story about your family that is hardly related to the pictures you have been sharing.

the dark-haired man is so tired, so fed up with noise and the questions you ask him that you do not even wait for him to respond to before you're cutting in and rambling on again - not that toji even would have responded.

he just wants to sleep... you're still going on, and he wants to sleep.

"and then there was the time that i-"

you're interrupted by a loud groan and the run of toji's large hands down his face. you falter, lowering your phone and furrowing your brows at him slightly, your smile dwindling upon finally taking note of toji's body language.

silence stills the room while toji keeps his hands concealing his face and you simply watch him, stunned.

"uh..." you start pensively, confused. "...why did you just-"

"for the love of christ, girl, can you be quiet for one second?" he interjects once more with the tear of his hands away from his face and the strike of his weary, tense eyes into yours.

you jump. "what?" is all you can ask, awed by the way your boyfriend just spoke to you.

"i had a long day, (y/n). the fuck don't you understand about that?"

your face is scrunching in offense now, your body retracting and your energy transitioning into dejected anger. "toji, why the hell are you talking to me like that?"

"cause you've been workin' my last nerve since i got home," he grits out, tense hands swiping the air. you stare at him with wide eyes. "i'm fuckin' tired. i don't wanna come home to you talkin' my ear off about shit i don't care about. just let me sleep, alright?"

you clamp your mouth shut, a lump forming in your throat and a pit swirling in your chest as you take in toji's hurtful words. his face is hard as he awaits a response from you, and you can do nothing but look at him pathetically, completely torn apart by how swiftly he had made you feel as though you are a burden to him.

you had not meant to interfere with his rest time. you thought he was resting by sitting cozily in bed with you. you thought that he would enjoy seeing pictures of you from the past, hearing about old memories that you revive for the sake of his enjoyment. hell, you would have enjoyed it if the roles were reversed and toji was sharing his childhood memories with you after a long day (if of course, his childhood had been a bit more positive).

you understand that you may have misread the situation, but there was no need for toji to be so cruel to you about it. you hate when he gets like this, so rigid and ruthless with his tone and his words that it makes you feel as though he wants nothing to do with you.

you fight the urge to cry, your body tensing as you swallow hard. you tear your eyes from toji's face, the vision alone scarring you as his words seep in. the green-eyed man watches you shut off your phone swiftly and tuck it carelessly into your pocket with a scoff.

he quirks his brow in befuddlement now as you push yourself off the mattress and cooly whisk yourself around the furniture and to the bedroom door. he pushes himself up, for he didn't want you to leave. he just wanted silence.

"where're you goin'?" he asks as though you have no reason to storm off. you halt in the doorway, whipping your head over your shoulder to glare at him with glassy eyes.

"to give you your space," you hissed. "after all, i don't want to 'work your last nerve' any more than i already have."

toji can tell by the glossiness of your gaze and the tremble of your voice that he fucked up. he sighs heavily, swiping a hand over his hair. "i ain't mean it like that-" he tries to defend himself, but you have none of it.

"sure you did, toji. or else you wouldn't have said it," you growl. "it's fine. really. you can be an asshole all by yourself while i'm gone. maybe you'll be able to sleep now that your girlfriend is out of the way."

you leave with a slam to the door, the walls shaking in your wake, and toji stares at the wall harshly. the overwhelming silence now envelopes him, the silence that he had been longing for since you started talking, and now that he has it, it doesn't feel right.

he curses to himself, scratching the back of his head. he shouldn't have snapped at you. all you had been doing was sharing something close to your heart with him, and he completely blew you off. it wasn't as though you were the source of his stress - it was his job, yet he reacted in such a way to make it feel as though you were the problem.

fuck. toji knows he has issues with regulating his anger, but he continues to swear that he will work on leaving you out of it, and yet here he is again, mulling over the after-effects of dragging you into his acidity once more.

he's not even tired anymore. he tries to doze off, but all he can think about is your face and how he hurt you.

when he steps out of his room, he finds that you are nowhere to be found in his apartment. he tries calling you, but you don't pick up. he resorts to texting you, asking where you are. you read the messages, but refuse to answer, ensuring that he knows you're pissed off.

he shakes his head and goes to check your location instead, which he is grateful to find that you haven't shut off. he knows you too well. you want him to chase after you and apologize, to put forth the effort that you at times feel he would not extend for your sake.

toji finds you at a bar around the corner, your chin propped in your hand as you stare ahead over the counter emptily with an untouched drink before you. you're slumped in your seat with your phone tucked under your hand, appearing so sad before him, and toji feels his heart ache knowing that he's the reason you look like this.

"go away," you grumble when you see his bulky figure approaching you out of the corner of your eye, not even bothering to look his way. the fushiguro leans his forearm against the counter beside you with his other hand propped on his hip. he tilts his head down to try to catch a glimpse of your face, and you simply turn away stubbornly.

"c'mon doll," he attempts to coax. "don't be mad."

"don't fucking tell me not to be mad, you dick."

toji drops his head. bad start. "listen," he begins, unsure of how to proceed. he has never been good with finding words in these situations. "i shouldn't've said what i said."

you turn to scour at him. "no shit."

he wants to chuckle at how angry you are, for you start cursing up a storm the way toji does on a daily basis, and he finds it rather endearing how quick you are to violate him with your language when he gets on your bad side.

toji doesn't realize that the skin beneath his eyes is creasing a the corner of his lip is tugging upward, for you're gaping at him and smacking his chest rather aggressively. "you think this is funny?"

"no, (y/n), i don't think it's funny," he chuckles, and you fume. you go to slam a few bills onto the table before jumping up from your stool and storming away. toji panics, reaching out and snatching up your arm in his grasp. you're tugged back to him against your wishes, fiery (e/c) hues seething into him as though you seek to kill him with your gaze. "stop, i'm tryna talk to you for a second."

"clearly you think my feelings are a joke to you, toji."

"i don't think that, doll, you know that."

"do i?" you raise your brows. "i wasn't so sure when you talked to me like i was nothing but a nuisance to you."

you go to tug away, but toji holds you to him, looking into your eye intensely. "you ain't a nuisance."

"then why talk to me like that?" you frown. "i wasn't even doing anything to hurt you, i was just trying to share something with you."

"i know baby," he softens, hand coming to cup over your neck. you turn away, leading him to smooth his hand over the back of your head instead as you look off to the side bitterly. "it wasn't you, it was my day-"

"i don't care," you huff. "you can't blame the way you treat people on shitty days - especially the way you treat me! i'm the person in this world who loves you, toji. if you need me to reel in on something, then just say that respectfully, but don't you dare go yelling at me the way you just did. it hurts my feelings."

toji sighs, looking over your face and caressing your hair. "i know, doll, m'sorry," he mumbles. "shouldn't be taking my shit out on you. you ain't ever done a single thing bad to me."

"yeah, you prick," you bite, and toji lets himself smile. "and stop smiling," you push against his chest. "nothing's fucking funny."

"you're right. nothin's funny at all," he agrees. "m'just happy i got a girl who knows how to fight back when i'm bein' an asshole."

"oh, what the fuck ever," you roll your eyes. "you're lucky i don't chop your balls off and hang them on display in the living room."

"nah, i much prefer you gettin' mean with me." he moves to cup your neck again, and this time you allow him, a pretty pout still on your face. "i deserve it."

"you sure as hell do..."

he chuckles, smirk spreading. "c'mere, doll," he pulls you into him, securing his arms around your frame and pressing you to his chest. you ease into him reluctantly, glowering off to the side as your check squishes into his pectoral. you don't hug back, for toji's biceps crush over you and trap your arms within his embrace as he rocks you slowly. "what can i do to make up for it?"

"go jump off a bridge," you mutter, body relaxing into his warmth as his chest rumbles with laughter against you.

ryomen sukuna:

sukuna belittling you with his words has never been anything new to you. while you understand that you withhold a space of softness in his heart that is reserved for you and you only, at times his comfortability with insulting you can go a bit far.

and of course, you’re used to it. he calls you “brat” and “woman” as though you are a nuisance to him when in reality, you are the only person on this planet he has bestowed those names upon with his own definition of affection. he clicks his teeth and rolls his eyes at you when you talk about something that he wants you to believe is of little interest to him, when he is taking mental note of the things you enjoy talking about so that he can suffocate you with your desires long after you have presented a specific like to his attention. and of course, he tells you you are an aggravation to his soul every damn two seconds, as though loving you brings him stress after eons of having lived so freely and ruthlessly - though he still does, your presence does more to ease him into a state of mellowness than anything has prior to his commitment to you.

he very clearly welcomes the feeling and connection to you, but masks so by calling you annoying. all the time. so of course, when he does normally, you are completely desensitized to it.

unless you’re already irritated.

occasionally, there is only so much of sukuna you can handle. you love him to death, but the two of you butt heads so often due to your stubborn natures and unwillingness to allow the other to win that it tends to wear you down after a while. sukuna calls you disrespectful for even talking back, yet allows you to continue to do so as if he gets off on the way you get snippy with him.

it’s entertaining to the lord, after all. why would he spend his time doting on someone boring?

nevertheless, if you’ve had a long day and are in no mood to deal with sukuna’s rather wide range of complex reactions to even the smallest of things that you do, his habits tick you off - especially so when he calls you annoying for something that you feel is anything but.

so as you complain to sukuna about how he needs to be mindful of how many sheets he’s running through by staining them with blood when he carelessly returns to your shared bedroom from yet another colorful expedition, you're peeved by the way he stares at you so carelessly. you’ve been begging him forever to be more mindful of how he treats his belongings, especially now that you share the same things, but he always brushes your concerns aside by saying that he can just get more. but god forbid someone else were to stain his sheets, then he’d be out for blood.

his arms are crossed as he stands before you, eyes rolling over the ceiling as he makes his agitation rather evident. you’re a little thing in comparison to him, yammering on about the tenth set of sheets he has stained this month, but he wants to hear none of it. why is it such a big deal to you anyway? he has thousands of servants and limitless access to resources, so it shouldn’t matter to you whatsoever. besides, you’ve stained numerous sheets of his over the years with your arousal and he’s never complained. why does it all of a sudden hold importance to you what state his belongings are in now?

“would you quit your moaning, woman?” he snarls, overpowering voice speaking over you. his eyes are hard and slim as they stare over you, and you’re bubbling with rage the moment he cuts into what you’re saying. “it is not of relevance to me, so why is it of any relevance to you?”

“because it is, sukuna! why do you only hold value to the things you care about? we share a bed, obviously i’m affected by this too!” you argue.

“you are not a servant. servants concern themselves over such things.”

“oh, so now i’m beneath you for talking about this?”

sukuna groans. “i did not say that, brat.”

“yeah, but you insinuated it!” you retort. “i’m tired, sukuna, i wasn’t trying to make this a big thing.”

“yet you are attempting to by persisting so irritatingly.”

you throw your hands up, at your wit’s end. why does he never listen to you when there is something on your mind? why does he always push aside what you feel matters when he decides it doesn’t matter to him? why is he always so cold with you, so steely and headstrong as though he remains above you like you haven’t been by his side all this time?

you know how sukuna is, and yet him calling your opinions irritating riles you up in this moment. everything has to turn into an argument, and it weighs you down. nothing can ever run smoothly without sukuna taking offense or scoffing at the idea of you coming to him with something you feel should be fixed. you can’t win.

"seriously?" you plead. "i mean, really, i'm irritating because i don't want to sleep in blood every night?"

"christ, you don't sleep in blood. the sheets are changed before you come to rest!" he barks. "that is why i find this so annoying. you are complaining for nothing."

"you know what? you're annoying!" you point a finger to his broad chest. the king of curses lifts a brow, looking down at where your finger prods into him.

"i beg your pardon?" an amused, low chuckle ripples through him as though the sentiment is unheard of, which only pisses you off even more.

"you heard me. you're the fucking annoying one. you're always going on about how i shouldn't talk back, or how everything i feel doesn't make sense, or how the things i want don't matter because you don't want them! you act like you're so far above me, when i'm the only one sleeping in bed with you, sitting on your throne, supporting your psycho-ass ambitions - but i'm the irritating one, right? your girlfriend is such a pain in the ass, isn't she? for caring about your wellbeing and loving you when nobody else will?"

the salmon-haired king's eyes go dull as you shout at him, fury raging in your eyes as you continue to poke at him. you're playing with fire, but you don't care. you're fed up with the pretending, with the sly comments about your intelligence as a human being and the value of your interests.

"woman-"

"shut up! i'm not done."

oh. you've really lost it now, haven't you?

normally, sukuna would have made it a point to silence you and teach you a lesson by now, but for some reason, he's feeling generous. slightly intrigued by your outburst, he lets you go on with a domineering smirk.

"i don't care of you're the king of curses, or if you could kill me with the snap of your fingers, or if you've got thousands of people who bow down to you without a second thought like mindless sheep-"

"you are not those people."

"exactly!" you agree without thinking, and sukuna's smirk brightens. "i'm not! so stop- stop treating me like i am! stop talking to me like i'm unimportant and like i get on your nerves more than i do anything good for you! stop blowing me off because you don't know how to empathize! i'm your girlfriend. i care about you, and i also care about the state of your things which you always make a point to say are mine too- and fucking sue me if i'm tired of walking into your room after a long day to see blood stains from random ass civilians while your servants work to replace them in the next hour! what if i wanna lay down before then, huh? ever thought about that?

"god, i just wish you'd care! is that so hard for you to do, sukuna? to care about me and what i care about? i didn't wanna argue with you, but you make it so damn hard for me not to lose my mind! you never hear me talk about how much you drive me crazy, and you drive me crazy every damn day of the week!"

"is that so?" he pries, slyly.

"yes!"

"i implore you, tell me more about how i drive you crazy."

"have you not been listening to anything i've-?!" you freeze, reconnecting with the moment to look in sukuna's eye and see how he is enjoying listening to your rant. you stop, stepping back and lifting your finger from his chest. you breathe in and out deeply, worked up by your own emotion, and you finally take a second to realize what you have been doing. "you're mocking me," you conclude.

"i am doing no such thing."

you scoff. "whatever, sukuna. just forget it. sorry i'm so irritating to you."

you go to walk off, but sukuna is already wrapping a set of arms around you, tugging you back to his chest. you grit your teeth, peering up over your shoulder to look back and find the demon grinning down at you teasingly.

"you need to relax," he muses.

"don't fucking tell me to relax, sukuna, i'm already pissed off."

"mm. i can see that, and in feeling so you have forgotten who you are speaking to."

"see, this is what i'm talking about! i'm not your servant-"

"yes, yes, i know. it was hard not to catch what you were saying during your little tantrum."

"fuck you," you groan, moving to push away. sukuna tightens his grip, winding his arms securely over your stomach and pressing you to his chest. "sukuna," you whine.

"stop taking everything so personally," he ducks down to speak into your ear over your left shoulder. you jerk, turning your head in the direction of his voice. "you are fully aware that you are not the same as everybody else. if you were, you would not be so mouthy."

"yeah, well it's hard to tell what you think sometimes when you call me annoying all the damn time. if you want me to leave you alone, just say that and i can stop wasting my time."

"enoughhh," he hisses. "you must stop taking things so far."

"and you must stop being so mean," you mimic his speech.

sukuna snorts. "do not worry about the sheets. i will retreat elsewhere after massacres if it while cease your whining."

"oh, how lucky i am," you click your teeth.

"quite so," he turns in to press his lips to the space under your jaw. "if you were anyone else-"

"i'd be dead," you finish, involuntarily leaning into him though your face is still tense. "no one else should be in your bed anyway, you know."

"that is why no one ever will."

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