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dreamgirlbny · 2 days ago

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but i know through mine, you were looking in yours.

characters: ellie williams x reader (barely), abby anderson x reader (exes).

content: college!au, angst one-shot, no smut. toxic relationships implied!!

notes: this is just a little something i wrote super quick, didn’t even really proofread. it’s just sad to be honest, but i was feeling a bit of soft ellie with angst. hope you enjoy <3

you shouldn’t have left the house tonight.

you should’ve been in bed already.

and you should have studied for your test in the morning.

but instead, it’s 3 AM, and the only lesbian bar in your small college town was turning the lights on and cutting the music off.

you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.

what a cliché. that wasn’t really true, either, since nothing else was open, and the diners issued a city-wide statement that the party couldn’t be taken to them anymore.

calling a car was useless at this hour, all the rates were tripled and waiting for one was about as long as walking home.

so, walking it was. once again, leaving alone.

you’d tell yourself it’s by choice, but really, you knew what it was. the “lesbian circle” reputation precedes itself in a school as small as this.

you’d pretend walking past the pairs along the curb, all eagerly waiting for their cabs, wouldn’t bring a small pang to your chest; the whispers and hushed giggles, floating along with the wind, making its way past you in the form of paper-cuts.

and the ones that weren’t paired up, well, they wouldn’t look at you. not while you were looking, at least. you were sure you could stand in front of someone, waving your arms, doing pirouettes, and they’d still pretend not to see you.

all because of her.

three weeks broken up now and you still couldn’t get a rebound hookup; not even with the girls who were jumping at the opportunity to get in your panties at the beginning of it all.

no one wanted to mess with “anderson’s girl.”

that’s all you’d ever been known as, the past year and a half. and at first, you loved it. loved being advertised to everyone as the girlfriend of your school’s star athlete, the wet dream of every woman on campus; even the straight ones.

you loved it because you’d never been somebody before. at least not the way you got used to with her.

but somewhere along the way, it became too much. some days, looking in the mirror, you’d hardly recall your own name. visiting home, you could feel exactly at which point in the conversation you lost someone: right about at the fifteenth mention of her name.

for the past three weeks, you’ve heard nothing but secondhand whispers that she swears you’ll come back to her. she always was so self-assured, so unrelentingly confident that everything would always work in her favor. she didn’t even cry during your breakup.

but no one seemed to see how ridiculously self-centered she was, except for you. not that it was anyone’s fault, she was extremely charismatic, perfect from the outside. in fact, no one could understand how someone would be as stupid as to leave the pride and joy of jackson state; surely there must be something wrong with you.

so either way, they wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.

after about five blocks of walking, your boots were getting a bit uncomfortable. while leaning against a lamppost, deciding to take them off entirely, you could smell a faint trail of smoke coming from behind you.

you looked up across the street, one boot in hand, and saw someone on a bus stop bench holding a cigarette.

and she…looked back at you?

you circled around until you ended up in your same spot, looking to see if there was anyone next to you. there wasn’t. there wasn’t a single soul, a single car, or a single open store around, she really was looking at you.

her head cocked to the side, eyebrow raising as an amused smile played on her lips.

“chasing your tail?” she spoke. she didn’t have to shout, the narrow street and dead of the night carrying her words over to you clearly.

“just surprised someone would talk to me.” you answered, planted in your spot, still holding your single boot.

she didn’t respond, but her eyes never left yours. instead, she held up her pack of cigarettes, gesturing towards you. after a beat of silence she laughed.

“i don’t bite.”

a small smile broke on your face, feeling a very faint, but familiar, swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

“what if i do?”

you heard a deep hum from her as she crossed her arms in thought, looking as if she genuinely pondered your question. then she shrugged.

“a little bite never hurt me.” a lazy smile stretched across her face, cigarette hanging between it.

it was your turn to laugh now, looking around to see if it still was as dead as it sounded. you bit back a grin before shrugging your shoulders back at her. taking off your second boot, you made your way to the bus bench through the empty road.

as you approached, she stood up from her spot, and you finally got a proper look at her face as she came under a light. you slowed in your tracks, butterflies in your stomach fading into something darker.

you felt a bit shy now, taking a cigarette from the pack she extended out to you with a slight tremble to your hand. holding it up to your lips, she cupped a hand over her zippo and brought it up to light it for you.

you took a long puff, studying her green eyes that didn’t want to seem to leave yours, and when you exhaled you couldn’t help the nervous laughter that bubbled up with it.

“what’s funny?” her eyes softened with something sweet, words dragging out lazily with a hint of curiosity.

you shook your head looking away from her, dropping your boots on the ground and taking a seat on the bench.

“nothing, really.”

she sat down next to you after stomping out her cigarette, hands curling around the edge of the bench.

she didn’t speak and neither did you. but you found yourselves looking up at the stars, or what was visible of the stars, at least. it was the most comforting silence you ever sat in. the occasional car would zoom by, but mostly, the only sound to be heard was the buzzing of the lights, crickets in the distance, faint white noise of the night.

you didn’t speak until you finished your cigarette.

“do you go to school here?”

a quiet snort of a laugh came from her, “yeah, i do.”

“i’ve never seen you around,“ you rushed out, almost apologetically.

“i’m not offended.” she replied, tone soft.

“okay.” you gave her a quick glance, and when you saw that hint of a smile on her face, you looked away satisfied you hadn’t upset her.

you knew what it was like to be overlooked.

a breeze chilled past you, making you shiver ever so slightly, and before you knew it, there was a jacket being slung around your shoulders.

your hands came up to hold it in place, cheeks heating up to a warm pink as you mumbled out a small ‘thank you’.

she smiled at you, shaking her head softly.

“don’t worry about it.”

you turned away, back to the stars.

after another beat of silence, she slowly started naming some of them, and you looked at her with amusement in your eyes.

“do you like astronomy?” you asked.

“i love space in general.” she answered sheepishly.

you nodded slowly, lips curling with a flirt of a smirk.

“well, tell me more.”

she huffed out a laugh, head jutting to the side and fingers fidgeting as she sat thinking of something.

or so, you thought she was thinking; she was actually holding herself back. once she started talking, it’s like she couldn’t stop, and you were sure if someone ever quizzed you on the apollo 11 now you could give them essay-length answers.

you listened to her in awe the entire time, admiring the way her eyes sparkled as she talked, giggling at the corny space jokes she sprinkled in to her story-telling.

it wasn’t until the conversation was over that you even realized you didn’t know her name.

“i didn’t ask your name.” you shook your head in disbelief, still beaming from the conversation.

her expression faltered as she studied your face for a minute, then reached out her hand.

“ellie.”

you shook her hand a bit awkwardly, opening your mouth to reply with your name, but she stopped you.

“i know it.” her words came out reassuringly, eyes shifting between yours with a familiar sadness you’d never seen in anyone else’s before.

your face dropped in confusion, eyebrows furrowed, hand still interlocked with hers. you searched your mind for a memory of ever meeting her, every little nook and cranny for even a glimpse of her on campus, but nothing. you were sure nobody had known your name unless you introduced yourself, or even if they had, it became replaced in their brains with your earned title since dating your ex-girlfriend.

but then, for a split second, you recognized her.

recognized something in her eyes that flashed a reel of memories across them; a very vague, grainy set of them, like the ones of watching an old silent movie on a random day when you were five years old that for some reason stuck with you.

recognized the same uncertainty in the emotions that swam in her eyes, the same waver of confidence at how the reels played out to her again, almost as if she didn’t want to believe how clear everything had been all along.

recognized the emptiness that dared to fill her again, that loss of identity that lingered behind it all.

you became so lost in her eyes, you were only brought back when her thumb swiped a tear from your cheek.

your face felt hot with tears, heart pattering inside your ribcage. you opened your mouth to say something, but she just shook her head with a quiet plea on her face, as if she already knew what you’d ask.

as if asking it out loud would make her relive something she wasn’t sure she could survive.

you turned your head back to the sky, trying to regain control of your breathing that you didn’t even notice you lost, but her gaze lingered on you for a bit longer.

eventually, she joined you once again in star gazing.

“don’t go back to her.”

she hummed out, words so soft you’d barely hear them if it wasn’t so quiet, so breathless you’d think she was talking to herself.

you gave yourself a slight nod, keeping your eyes on one particular star that burned brighter than the others.

your hand inched closer to hers on the bench, moving on its own until it was on top of the other.

but there weren’t any sparks behind it.

she reached up her fingers through yours, giving the best form of a squeeze as she could from the position.

you sighed to yourself, feeling the tears well up in your eyes this time.

“yeah, i won’t.”

#ellie williams #abby anderson #ex gf abby #angst tlou #wlw #tlou fanfiction #ellie x reader #ellie willams x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader

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wisterianightmare · 1 day ago

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Zayne: Childhood

Rated G, 1200 wc, headcanon/ficlet. Zayne x MC, Childhood Trio (Caleb mention), light whump but mostly fluff

I know that Zayne is canonically older than MC, and the general consensus in the fandom seems to be that he has to be older than 27 (because even as a child prodigy, being Head of Cardiac Surgery before 30 is not within my suspended disbelief), but imagine:

Zayne who is a year or two younger than MC, but in the same circle as her as a child because he’s being sped ahead due to his academic aptitude. He’s mild and reserved even at his age, well mannered and well spoken, so people tend to treat him with the same sensibilities as a tiny adult. The other children too have taken note, and it’s not that they exclude or bully him on purpose: they simply don’t realize that he’d actually want to play with them. And Zayne, self-aware enough even in his adolescence to know that he’s awkward and a bit self conscious about how he’s perceived… well, Zayne isn’t exactly doing the best job of advocating for himself. Instead, he shrinks his presence and finds quiet ways to keep busy or help the adults running things around him. The same adults who are too grateful for an easy and helpful and intelligent child to notice him quietly drowning in self-assigned homework and loneliness.

MC is the only one who seems to notice him, or at least to notice that he’s an island. She’s outgoing enough to intrude upon his quiet, and observant enough to see that the awkwardness is fear of judgment with a dash of morbid shyness. She’s always quick to take his hand and drag him away from his books and scientific models, or to sit and yap at him while he works on something extra. Sometimes he’s the one who starts talking and before long he realizes he’s yammering on, but she’s always listening. Smiling. Asking him questions when he grows self conscious again. She’s the only one who treats him like his age, let alone like a kid at all.

Caleb’s part of the package, and though Zayne can tell that he gets on his nerves at times, he also knows Caleb doesn’t resent him over it. A kid in need is a kid in need, and MC‘s interest in Zayne makes it easy for Caleb to care about him, even when he’s being an irritating little bugger. Caleb ends up being half friend, half part-time lawyer: fierce protector of Zayne’s free time. Suddenly, there’s no more cleaning the classroom during break times or being forced to tutor the ones falling behind because: “Are you gonna carve Zayne his own recess time out of his math class then, Miss?”

For those few years in the Bloomshore District, childhood burns in vibrant luminescence.

MC - and Caleb, by extension - quickly becomes the world to Zayne. She encourages him to take a deep breath, unwind, and be all the things he is outside of the facts. She tugs at the childishness in him with gentle affection, and he learns to love how he can indulge in the joyful parts of life with her.

But MC is a little older, and when you’re a child a couple of years can feel like worlds apart from each other. Zayne has an interest in medicine already - because of course the girl his heart is soft for also has a heart condition of her own - so he knows all about the differences between them. Developmentally, they’re going to head in different directions before long. And he has to keep her attention when they do.

Just like that, the thing he loves the most is the greatest burden of Zayne’s short life. The last thing that Zayne wants is to lose the freedom MC gives him to be himself with her. What will he do then when MC starts to look at him like he’s a child and have it be different because she no longer sees herself as one with him?

Zayne does his best to turn the anxiety into determination. No one is going to take MC away from him, and he’s certainly not going to lose her because he’s just a stupid kid. After all, hasn’t his greatest asset always been his maturity? Isn’t that what made MC notice him to begin with?

He starts finding ways to assert himself, to try and step more into the role of a man. Zayne takes his cues from Caleb first and foremost, and becomes MC’s greatest protector (alright, maybe second to Caleb). He gets into his first fight on the playground, and walks away with the perhaps unfortunate takeaway that sometimes it really is just easier to punch someone’s lights out. He begins to tutor MC when she struggles, gently scolding her for bad study habits while secretly enjoying every time she asks for help again. He bandages her scraped knees and hand-makes her a first-aid kit for her school bag (and a matching one for himself, because she’s liable to forget hers). In all of his efforts he never notices a drop in her attention, though he never stops trying to keep a hold of it.

Things change and Zayne moves, spirited away by circumstances and parents and better opportunities that all sound hollow to young ears. He tries not to feel the heartbreak, but MC has done too good of a job getting him to allow himself to be excited and happy and immature about things. Even geniuses, at any age, have feelings… don’t they?

Maybe they just have… things.

Things to do. Things to solve. Things to fix. Things to heal.

So Zayne pours himself into doing what he’d been doing before he met MC, before he’d had that taste of freedom. He takes everything he doesn’t have time to feel and he tries to force a conversion: feelings to fuel. No matter how incompatible the ingredients, he keeps refining: reducing them to their simplest parts and then lighting them on fire to keep the rest of him going. It works well enough. Youngest graduate in the history of Linkon Medical School. Fast tracked through residency and Head of Cardiac Surgery at Akso Hospital before 30. The most intelligent, the most capable, the most optimal.

MC steps back into his life, and the shy butterflies return with a youthful vengeance.

And Zayne is flustered. Zayne is a professional. Zayne, honest to goodness, cannot tell if MC likes him again after all these years.

All of the early interactions between Zayne and MC post reunion are flavored with an air of someone desperate for attentive approval from the other, but terrified of being personal enough to ask for said reassurance. Zayne is initially nervous around MC. He relies on his clinical demeanor and the excuse of professionalism to create distance between them, even when it’s clear that MC is looking to reconnect with her remembered friend. There’s insecurity, misunderstanding caused by his own internalizations, and sometimes tension.

Just like in childhood, though, MC remains attentive regardless of Zayne’s efforts to stay within the role he’s been prescribed. She makes attempts at reminiscing, finds excuses to ask for his time, and is persistent in her causal presence. MC acts like Zayne is a beloved old friend right from the start. She treats him like a person, not just a prodigy, and unlike his colleagues she doesn’t need to be told that behind his cold demeanor is a quiet kindness. She sees it. Like she’s always seen him.

And Zayne, just like in childhood, needs time to settle into that comfort. To know that it’s being offered in earnest. To have faith that her attention will remain, despite the differences.

Now, a couple of years are merely a heartbeat apart. It doesn’t worry Zayne anymore, not when those two hearts beat in sync.

Thanks for reading my soft debut back into writing after 5+ years and disability! Trying to oil this engine and kick it back into gear! Pls be nice to me the words don’t word the way they used to!

Also posted to AO3 as Chapter 1 of:

The Dreamwork Scrapbook

Please show me some love there if you enjoyed!

Coming soon: How the LI’s best qualities are the ones that make you break.

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hokusu · 1 day ago

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#dabihawks (insp. mission impossible x) 🪂🔥

Dabi likes them hot. It is a fact that he throws out on national television.

Pretty bad boy with white roots and smoked black hair who flashes a look into the cameras, a hand in his pocket nonchalantly as he pretends to consider. His piercing darts out with the dip of his tongue and he licks his lower lip as he stares right into the lens, blue on fire.

An eyebrow raises, his words don't stutter. "My type? I like them hot."

The words come vague enough for the world to speculate, specific enough to ignite at Hawks' very core.

Hawks could have anyone.

He wants Dabi.

It's an ask and an invitation. It feels like a dare and a challenge.

And Hawks is very good at those.

Hawks' stunt double is strapped in, standing on the edge lines of a shot ready to go.

Hawks has heard the safety drill about a hundred times. He knows the precautions. He's practiced right along with him. This isn't a risk and Hawks never agreed with a double in the first place.

He's an adrenaline junkie. He lives for the fall. Doing his own stunts is part of the thrill of living his dream.

And if Dabi likes them hot...

Hawks steps up besides the double, straps himself in instead. His words shouted above the helicopter as he steps right through it's doors. A little reckless, but fuck it. "Change of plans, I'm doing my own stunt."

Hawks jumps backwards.

Parachute in it's fold, caution to the wind thrown against his back as he takes the plunge.

One. Two.

The coarse of air filters through his lungs, his heart accelerating with the adrenaline of free fall.

Three.

He looks up, the parachute blows out and it takes all of a second before it ignites on fire.

Four. Five. Six.

Eight. Ten. Fifteen.

His gear catches wind, he drifts off course, the heat of the fire above him taking charge.

It's fifteen seconds of his parachute on fire as he plummets through the air until the fire puts out and he tumbles on through.

Oh, it's always a bit like flying.

Hawks' heart soars.

When he lands, air support bringing him down to safety, he's all laughs amidst his crew calling him reckless. Insane.

He might be a little, but he happens to know—Dabi also likes them 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺.

And he thinks, he'll do this again.

Maybe a couple handful more times.

The footage comes in some weeks later. A rush job he'd requested of behind the scenes.

Hawks pulls out his phone, taps on his 'hot stuff'.

🪶: heard you like them hot, pretty boy, this hot enough for you?

(attachment of a clip with his skydiving stunt of his parachute on fire)

He hits send.

A minute sixteen passes. Exactly how long the video lasts.

Hawks gives him a few seconds of leeway. Then his phone pings.

🔥: text your location, right fucking now

Hawks starts pulling at his tie, grin tearing at the edges of his lips as he shoots over the next text.

Dabi likes them hot.

Hawks likes them fast.

Dabi knows this too.

It's not like they haven't been flirting for the last better half of the year.

It's just about time Dabi shows him fast and let's Hawks get him 𝘩𝘰𝘵.

#Dabihawks #Bnha #Dabi #Hawks #Todoroki Touya #Takami keigo #Mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #My writing #I only write unserious dabihawks #I'm so behind on posting here I need to make a million posts lmaoo #Dabihawks fanfic

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fatherwound · 11 hours ago

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𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟮: summer of '03 / autumn of '06 / spring of '09

ao3 • chapter 1 part 1 here!

summary — growing up, your father and you were never close. not that he was ever cruel, or neglectful. he was just - closed off. never one for affection, treating you more like a son than a daughter. and it was fine. it's just not who he was, not who you were to one another. but you always had joel. the two of you had a bond you never had with your dad. he listened to you, comforted you. it's no wonder over the years, as you grew so did your feelings for him. from a simple childhood crush to something more.

word count: 3.5k

note — this is not your usual dbf!joel fic. these memories make up the second half of chapter one. these chapters are inspired by my own experiences of having feelings like this as a kid and a teen. these chapters are innocent. they're not to romanticize they're relationship at these ages, (she's a child) simply to depict the reality of being a girl with father issues who has feelings like this.

author's note — please enjoy and like if you read! this is my first ever fanfic so any support is appreciated. x

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 '𝟎𝟑

The first time you can remember was the summer before your 13th birthday. You, Dad, Joel, and Sarah had gone to Canyon Lake like you did every summer. You loved going to the lake, camping out for a few days, just enjoying the warm air, exploring and enjoying the last few moments of childhood.

Your Dad always told you to stay away from the creeks, ever worried about what may lurk beneath.

But you were always the fearless one of the two of you.

That day, you’d gone down to the creek with Sarah. She would’ve been at about six at the time, begging to go on an adventure. You caved of course; you could never deny her anything.

Shoes off in the surprisingly cool water, sitting on the shore while Sarah looked for rocks.

The sun was hot that day, and while your Dad always warned you to avoid the still, darker parts of the water, you couldn’t resist the temptation.

You waded into the creek, sinking further in than you normally went. Your gangly limbs not covered so easily by the shallow water anymore.

It felt good against your sunburnt skin until suddenly you felt an excruciating pain on the side of your leg. White hot heat stung its way through your calf, and you cried out.

As you ran out of the water, Sarah ran up to you, eyes full of fear as she looked down at the crimson stream of blood running down your leg.

She wanted to go get your dad, but you knew he would be angry with you, and you begged her not to.

Instead, she ran and got Joel.

As his broad frame broke through the trees, you sat down and looked away to hide the tears stinging your eyes.

Sitting on the shore, hand cupped to your leg, you didn’t want him to see your face.

You remember feeling embarrassed. Joel always made comments about how you’d grown up lately, and you didn’t want to prove him wrong.

“Hey kiddo, let me ‘ave a look at that”, he said as he sat down next to you with the old first aid kit from his truck.

Sarah came over, trying to catch a peak at the damage but Joel quietly shooed her away.

He could always read you. Knew you wanted to keep up the front of the fearless big kid Sarah looked up to.

After she had scampered back towards the site, Joel turned his dark eyes on you.

You turned to face him, eyes cast down, extending your leg out for him to inspect.

Brow furrowed; he clicked his tongue as he looked at the snapping turtle bite on your leg.

He gingerly grabbed your foot and placed it on his thigh to get a better look. His skin was still cool and slick from the lake.

“Hell kid, he sure got a hell of’ve a bite outta you”, he chuckled softly. He looked up and saw your downcast eyes, and his smile fell slightly.

Softening his voice, he rubbed your knee with his knuckle, “Hey, I’ll get this patched up and your dad ‘ll be none the wiser. We’ll just say you fell, ‘lright?”

Finally meeting his eyes, you nodded your head softly, sniffling a quiet response back. His eyes warmed, smiling softly at you, “Atta girl”.

The sun gleamed off his still damp hair, the dark brown almost swallowing the light. The tanned skin of his forearm resting across your shin was cool, you could feel it sinking into the places his fingers touched as he tended to the wound.

He got to work wiping the bite. You hissed through your teeth as he poured some water on it, and he stroked the underside of your calf lightly, “I know, baby, I know.”

You watched him work quietly, his big hands working so tenderly, conscious to not add to your hurt.

Once he’d cleaned up most of the blood, he gently put a gauze on it, and wrapped some bandage around your leg.

“There, good as new eh”, he looked up at you, showing one of his rare smiles, and you felt a small flutter in your stomach.

“Thanks Joel,” you finally said, “I’m sorry for going out here, but Sarah was askin’ and, I was watchin’ her, I swear, and—“

“Hey, hey, look it’s ‘lright. Your Dad and I used to come out here all the time growing up, and we were half as brave and twice as stupid.”

You smile at that and gently wipe your eyes.

“Common, your dads just about finished with lunch. Let’s get some food in ya”.

He let go of your leg, gently placing it down on the ground in front of him as he rose. You distinctly remember a tingle where his hands had been.

Joel stood, picking up the kit, and turned to head back to camp.

He stopped at the top of the shore, waiting as you slid your shoes back on.

Tying your laces, you were still thinking about his hands. You didn’t really know why at the time.

As the two of you walked back to camp, the pain in your leg had dulled.

Instead, all you could think of was one day, when you fell in love and got married, you really hoped he would be like Joel.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐨𝐟 ‘𝟎𝟔

The next time you can remember was when you were 15, and you’d just experienced your first heartbreak.

You were dating your first boyfriend, Hunter. Looking back now, you’re not even really sure if you would consider it dating. He’d asked you out earlier that year, and he was cute enough, so you said yes.

He’d slowly grown on you as you spent time together. With his shaggy blonde hair, freckled nose, chipped tooth smile, and boyish charm.

He was a year older than you, and honestly had just been amazed he even noticed you.

You’d never really been one to draw the attention of boys.

You thought you were pretty enough, but you’d always been a bit too boyish for them to overlook some of the other girls in your class.

But Hunter had seen you, and made you feel special. Pretty, even at times.

It was harmless enough. You’d hang out together, go swimming at the quarry, watch movies, and sometimes kiss in his car. All the typical things teenagers do.

So, on the first cool autumn night, when your school was having the big football game against your rivals, you figured you two would go together.

But when you’d asked him about it earlier that day, he’d said he couldn’t. Something about having to watch his little brother. You hadn’t thought much of it.

Without Hunter, you hadn’t planned to go, but Leah and Kelsey invited you, hoping to see if they could check out some boys from the other school.

You didn’t have any other plans, and it was a Friday night, so you told your dad you’d be back late and shot out the door before you even heard his response.

The game itself was pretty boring. You’d never really understood the hype around football, and your friends were so busy giggling over guys you were honestly debating on whether to ditch.

You had told them you’d be right back, and walking down the bleachers, you turned towards the food stand.

But before you got too far, you thought you heard something coming from behind you.

You remember turning and seeing an all too familiar head of floppy blonde hair beneath the bleachers.

And there he was, your first boyfriend, with his tongue down some random girls throat. You were struck dead in your tracks, staring open mouthed at them.

You remember feeling like all the breath had left your body, and your feet were made of lead.

You couldn’t have looked away if you wanted to.

The girl, whoever she was, must have felt someone staring at them, because she broke the kiss just to look at you and say something you can’t remember hearing.

All you do remember was Hunter seeing you, and his face almost seemed to have genuine remorse.

All at once, every fiber of your body was vibrating with energy, and before he could even open his mouth, you were sprinting away.

You don’t remember how long you ran, only that you knew you had to get as far away from Hunter and that stupid girl and all those people as fast as you could.

You only started to become aware of the fact that you were running alone at night down the highway until it was too late to turn back, and your feet were starting to go numb.

By that point, you didn’t much care what happened, you lived in a small town outside of the main city, and it had always been safe enough.

Your legs ached and your chest heaved, which you told yourself had everything to do with the running and nothing to do with the tears drying on your cheeks.

You were so caught up in your own head, that you didn’t even notice when a familiar truck pulled up beside you. It took Joel yelling your name louder than you’d ever heard him be, for you to finally turn and look.

He pulled off to the side of the road ahead of you, and as you pathetically walked up to the passenger side door, you did your best to wipe you face and get yourself together.

He leaned across, opening the door for you, and as you crawled in, you noticed he wasn’t making any move to continue driving.

“What the hell are you doin’ out here!? Seriously, if your dad knew you were walking alone down the damn highway he’d kill you,” he said, voice rough with worry.

You kept your gaze down, staring at your knees. You couldn’t make yourself look at him.

You knew he was right. You were an idiot for just running like that, it was reckless and childish, and you’re embarrassed that you didn’t think beyond that.

He let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his eyes, “Is everything ‘lright kiddo? ‘M not mad, you just worried me is all. What’s going on?”

You finally turned to look at him, and the moment your eyes locked onto his gaze, full of genuine concern and care, you couldn’t hold yourself together.

You flung yourself across the bench seat, wrapping your arms around his shoulder, and sobbing into his chest.

Joel was so taken back, it took him a moment before he wrapped his arms around you.

He squeezed you tight, rubbing soothing circles into your back with one hand, while the other gently cupped your head.

Through your choked sobs, you could hear him soothing you, “Woah, hey, hey, it’s ‘lright babygirl. It’s okay”. Shushing you, and resting his head on yours.

Finally, after god knows how long, when you’d finally resorted to pathetic sniffles, you extricated yourself from his hold.

But still you stayed right next to him, his arm still around your back.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” he prodded gently, looking into your tear stained eyes.

You never were the best at talking about your feelings, but something about Joel has always gotten under your skin. He always walks right up to your walls and climbs them like they’re nothing.

You remember recounting the whole evening to him, barely stopping to take a breath. You found once you started, you couldn’t stop until it was all laid out in front of him.

When you finally stopped talking, the silence in the car was so loud, you almost began to feel embarrassed.

But before you were able to retreat back into yourself, Joel grabbed your hand from your lap, and held it firm in his rough grasp.

You remember looking at them, your hands together. His so large it covered yours entirely.

You looked up into his eyes, and his gaze was serious. Locked on yours, he took his other hand and gently wiped a stray tear from your cheek.

“From what I can tell that boy was an idiot. You’re a beautiful, smart young girl, and any guy who is too stupid to see that? Well he ain’t worth your tear’s darlin’”.

You’d never heard Joel talk so seriously with you; it made your eyes burn again.

Joel noticed, and shook his head, “Ah ah, no more of that tonight, you hear me? He ain’t worth it, and you always remember that, yeah?”

You nodded your head, and Joel squeezed your hand one last time before placing it back into your lap.

“Now come on, let’s get you home.” He’d put the truck back in drive and turned out onto the highway.

The ride home was quiet, except for the radio just loud enough that you could barely make out the song.

But you weren’t listening.

You were sitting with your head resting on Joel’s shoulder, and you remember thinking to yourself that you wish you could talk to your dad like this.

But he was like you; walls built tightly around his heart.

For all his rough exterior, Joel was always able to be there for you in a way your dad just couldn’t. And that was okay, you’d grown used to it now.

When you finally turned down the familiar gravel drive, you woke up, not even realizing that you had dozed off.

Joel gently nudged your shoulder, “Hey kiddo, we’re here”.

You stretched a bit, before sliding out the passenger side.

Before heading inside, you turned and looked at Joel one more time, “Thanks. For the ride, and … for listening.”

“No need to thank me darlin’, just remember what I said. And maybe don’t run down the road at night,” he said with a small smile. You smiled in return and shut the door.

You remember your dad was asleep on the couch, so you snuck by him to your bedroom. You got ready for bed, and when you nestled under your covers, you realized Hunter hadn’t entered your mind once since you left Joel’s truck.

Running through your mind was one thought, and one thought only:

Joel Miller called you beautiful.

You remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.

𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 '𝟎𝟗

The last time you can truly remember, comes to your mind more often than you’d like to admit.

It was the night after graduation. Word got out of a big party being held at the house of some person you didn’t know.

Well, house wasn’t exactly the best word for it, more like a ranch with one of those massive farmhouses straight out of a movie.

Anyway, the party was held out by whoevers lake, and there was a huge bonfire, with music, and dancing, and lots and lots of drinking.

It was downright picturesque, the best way you could think to close out your high school years.

You’d be leaving for Boston soon, you’d gotten your acceptance letter from BU earlier that year.

While you were excited to start down this new path, you had to admit that night had you preemptively nostalgic for home.

As much as you were always looking towards the future, you loved growing up in Texas, and you knew you were going to look back on memories like this with fondness.

The party lasted well into the night, and though your memories of it are a bit hazy after one too many beers, and far too much whiskey, you remember what happened when you got home all too well.

It was getting late, and though your dad was relatively lenient when it came to your curfew, especially now that you’d turned 18, you still didn’t want to stay out too late.

Albeit more so because the party was starting to get a bit less about celebrating and a bit more about hooking up, and well, that just wasn’t your scene.

You caught a ride with Leah, knowing she had to be home by midnight, her parents not being as laid back as your dad.

She hadn’t been drinking, quite as much as you, so at the time it seemed like an okay idea.

The drive back to your house felt longer than you knew it to be, but you didn’t mind. You hung your head out Leah’s Jeep window, the two of you belting songs at the top of your lungs.

For a moment you just allowed yourself to be young and free. Not fretting about what tomorrow might bring.

When she pulled down your long gravel driveway, you told her to let you hop out, hoping to sneak in without your dad seeing you.

As much as your dad was a fairly hands off parent, one thing he feels strongly about is alcohol.

Something about a friend back in high school who got in an accident. You can’t really remember now, but you knew he wouldn’t be happy to find you in such a state.

You remember waving bye to Leah, and making your way up to the house. You almost went through the front door, but thinking better of it, decided to try and sneak in the back through the kitchen.

Your dad, if he was still up, was probably in the living room, and your best bet of passing by unnoticed would be that way.

However, you were definitely a bit too drunk to see the familiar black truck parked under the tree out front, so when you gently slipped through the kitchen door, and turned around to see none other than Joel Miller standing at the counter cracking open a beer, you had to hold in the yelp that jumped to your throat.

The two of you held eye contact for a weighted moment.

Joel took in your appearance, the hazy eyes, flushed cheeks, and slight wobble to your stance and that obnoxiously handsome face cracked into a knowing grin.

“So…” he said in a slightly hushed voice, “You ‘ave a good time at that uhhh party?”

The smug look on his face, in your inebriated state, rubbed you the wrong way.

You straightened yourself up just a tad, doing your best impression of a sober person, “Why yes, I did actually. And now, I think I would like to go up to bed”, right then you had to hold back the most poorly timed hiccup that crawled its way up your throat at the exact moment you stop talking.

Joel chuckled to himself, clearly amused at how very Not sober you were.

He walked over to where you’d started leaning on the kitchen island for support.

“You know, as great of an attempt at sobriety as that was, you know your dad ‘ll be madder than hell see’n you like this”. In spite of his words, his tone was anything but chastising.

“Yeah, yeah, like y’all didn’t drink all the time when you ‘ere my age.” You looked up at him pointedly, and you could’ve sworn he was the one swaying, your eyes having a hard time focusing on him.

“Fair enough, just try to get up there quietly without him seein’ ya, and he won’t hear anythin’ from me”, then he did a lock motion over his lips.

God, he really shouldn’t have done that, because now you can’t help but stare at them, unashamedly.

You don’t really think anything about it, until he waves gently in front of your face, “Hey, you might wanna get a move on, kiddo, I’ve already been in here a little too long now”.

Before you could think better of it, the words just came pouring out of your mouth, “You know… you really are quite handsome Joel.. it’s actually kinda annoying, ‘as anyone ever told you that?”

You paused for a second, looking at his eyes, and you thought to yourself, yeah, he really is. And before you could stop it your stupid mouth was moving again, “With that annoyingly handsome nose, ‘nd those… big stupid brown eyes. ‘M gonna miss seein’ you all the time. and I just…” an over dramatic sigh fell from your lips, “Mmm, yeah, I should stop”.

Thankfully, before you had the chance to say anything else painfully incriminating, Joel put his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you towards the hallway, “Yep, and that’s your cue. What you need is some sleep, yeah kiddo?”

You stumbled along with him as he guided you gently towards your room, and when he finally let go, you turned around to catch one more glimpse of him before quietly creeping up the stairs.

That night plays in your head often in the years since.

In your weakest moments, you’ve poured over his face in that moment before you went upstairs. And you swear he had a blush on his cheeks, like maybe your words had more of an effect on him than he’d let on.

But then again maybe you were just drunk.

All you know is as embarrassing as that memory is at times, you also can’t find it in yourself to regret a word you said.

Because you know it was the truth. And you doubt you’ll ever have another moment of such blaring honesty with Joel Miller ever again.

Little did you know what would happen, almost ten years later when you wind up back in each others orbit.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou hbo #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #fanfic #fanficiton

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flight180 · 1 day ago

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Revelations. Part 1.

Bobby Campbell x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word count: 998

—————

You were sitting on your boyfriend Bobby’s bed, listening to him talking about his family. The boy’s life has been far from ideal as of late; you knew about the death of Bobby’s grandmother, but after the death of his father, you’ve been staying in the family house as per his request.

They all had a sort of impromptu family meeting earlier, but you had stayed in Bobby’s room, not wanting to intrude. He had returned and immediately started talking, not necessarily ranting like you heard his brother Erik do so downstairs, but more so venting to you in a string of consciousness type manner.

“She had been talking about our Grandma, Iris. And…she had all these papers and stuff stuck on the wall, she was saying some pretty freakish things.”

Bobby says with a soft sigh as he sits on the edge of his bed. You rub his shoulder gently, trying to soothe some of the obvious tension he’s holding in. His shoulders relax slightly at your touch as he begins to speak again…

“Something about death…coming for us all. For my family.”

You look up at him, his face tired, eyes soft and mouth downturned as if a lost puppy left on the side of the street. “What?”

Bobby noticed the shift in your expression, your sudden peak of interest in what he was talking about, and the way your eyebrows furrowed almost with a hint of worry in your eyes.

He clears his throat slightly, before adjusting his position to sit cross legged on the bed. “Yeah, like…my grandma was a total recluse…we never really spoke about her. But…Stefani went to talk to her and now…well, y’know.” Bobby looks down at his clasped hands as he hesitantly speaks, rubbing his thumbs together in a self soothing manner.

“Apparently she saw something, years ago, and there was an accident. But she saw it before it happened…like a vision…and she survived. That’s why she went crazy and hid away from everyone.”

Your eyes widen as you look at your boyfriend’s nervous state. “A…vision?”

“Kinda kooky, right?” Bobby chuckles slightly, but you could tell from the anxious tone that he didn’t actually find it funny at all.

You didn’t answer Bobby’s question. Instead, you had a blank expression painted on your face. Was it shock…? Confusion…? Fear maybe…? Bobby looks up at you, noticing your lack of response. It was like he could see the millions of thoughts racing through your head as you stare at the boy.

“Y/n?”

“Um…did Stefani say anything else?” You ask quietly, whispering as if not wanting to be heard...not wanting to face an answer…

“Not really…just that we were gonna die in order of age or something, but nobody believed her.”

“Do you?”

Bobby rubs the back of his neck with a despondent look on his face. The boy takes a few seconds to respond, before looking up at you and saying, “I mean…it’s weird. I dunno what to believe…”

You take your phone from your pocket, quickly tapping the phone and showing Bobby search results on the screen.

FLIGHT 180 SURVIVOR STRANGLES IN BATHROOM

On the screen, an article with an old looking picture of a boy seemingly around your age.

“What’s this?” Bobby takes the phone from your hand, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion as he reads the text on the screen.

“My brother.”

His attention is immediately on you as his head snaps up from the screen at hearing your words. “You…never mentioned you had a brother.”

“Two actually…my dad was married once before he married my mom.” You awkwardly reply. It was always a hard topic, something you preferred not to tell people about to avoid the conversation. It was practically a taboo topic in your household too, your father only loosing his temper if you ever brought your half-brothers up.

You could see the look on Bobby’s face. A mixture of sympathy for you, but also confusion, clearly wondering why you never told him.

“Two dead brothers isn’t exactly a conversation starter…” You say with a sigh.

“Right, sorry…why are you telling me now though?”

“Flight 180, Bobby. It was my brothers’ French class trip. Tod’s best friend, Alex, had a vision that the plane was gonna explode. Alex, Tod and some others got off the plane. It took off and it exploded. George, my oldest brother, died on the plane…and Tod, well that’s what the article’s about. Police said it was suicide, but who hangs themself in the bathtub?”

“I still don’t understand what you’re getting at, y/n.” Bobby places a gentle hand on your thigh, it’s clear he wants to comfort you as you tell him about your brothers, he’s always been a very sympathetic guy and in touch with emotions, but he’s also battling the confusion he is feeling. His grandmother and father just both died horrifically, his cousin who he hasn’t even heard from in ages is suddenly throwing conspiracy theories in their family’s face and now his partner is dropping a major life bombshell on him.

“Everyone kept dying, Bobby. By 2001 everyone who got off that plane was dead. Similar things have happened, visions, accidents, people think it’s a coincidence then they die.” You say with an exasperated voice, the worry has now began to set in. When you first found out about Tod and George, it was from finding Tod’s funeral service in a cupboard in your house. Followed by George’s letter jacket…or what was left of it sealed in a plastic bag. It didn’t take you long to figure it out, and with a search of their names on the internet you were quickly met with many articles and websites about Flight 180 appearing on the screen.

Bobby shifts uncomfortably on the bed, his eyes widening slightly as if your worry is contagious and has now spread all over the boy’s face.

“You think…Stefani’s right?” His words catch in his throat, causing his voice to break slightly.

“Maybe…”

#final destination #final destination bloodlines #bobby campbell #bobby campbell x reader

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lunarruled · 6 hours ago

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Truth be told Kyleigh wasn't so sure that this would work. Sure she had been hot-wiring cars since she was about thirteen years old, but this was a real machine in a real prison so her hopes hadn't been that high to start with. But as soon as that damn thing started to actually work she felt useful for the for first time in a very long time. And when she saw the look on Magna's face the half lycan smiled. A full on proud beam on her face that she didn't try to hide. Now came the hard part, figuring out what the hell they were going to do. Keeping the lights on for the entire prison depended on how long the generator was going to work and how quickly they could move. Hopefully it would last until they were out of the damn yard and on their way into the world, not trapping them inside a room full of the dead with no way out.

After she was informed that the door was sound proof (something she felt she should have known but then again a jail was nothing in comparison to a federal prison), Kyleigh relaxed a bit more and came back over to study the small screens. Relying on the other woman's knowledge of the prison layout was one thing but having actual visuals of it was quite another. Now they could see a bit more clearly, which rooms to avoid (how many damn people had been in that place when this all started?!) and what they might be able to grab on their way. The moment she saw herself on one of those screens the half lycan's face scrunched up at how mangy she looked. Granted there were no longer showers or anything like that but damn she was going to have to take a long soak in that river as soon as they were back outside.

"We could also lure some of the dead out of the way and lock them in the cells." She mused as she tried to think of the best way for them to get to that exit. If they could control everything in the prison now that the power was back up then they really shouldn't have any issues. But of course she was already making a plan b just in case. This world always had something up its sleeve, so it was better to be ready for it than to let one's guard down.

And Magna found it in pointing out that they couldn't really see much beyond the main gathering places and hallways. Kyleigh knew for a fact that there were cameras in every single spot in a prison so there had to be another room with more TVs. A guard station or a central monitoring room maybe? Once again Kyleigh was very happy she wasn't alone in this, Magna's mind working just a bit faster than her own. "It was a lucky guess." She had to reply with just a bit of a cocky grin. Of course she had been right. She couldn't explain how or why but at least she was right. Time to move on, see what was up with the rest of this place, and get the hell out!

Though she loathed the idea of having to get back up in those damn vents, Kyleigh climbed right back up and was surprised by the cool air that met them. These things did need fans to keep the air fresh and for once she wasn't afraid to take a deep breath in. After they crawled for just a bit she began to hear something loud and whirling… a fucking fan! And not one that they could simply just crawl around! One of those big ones with razor sharp blades that would rip them to shreds. Of-fucking-course! They were given one good thing and were now thrown back right where they had started. If she were by herself she would have just grabbed one of the blades and ripped it off, but she had to keep face with the human thing and instead just let out a groan.

But what she wasn't going to allow was for Magna's frustration at this new setback to get them both killed. As that stupid message began to blare she grit her teeth and grabbed the woman's ankle. "Hey! Listen to me as best you can! Let me have a look at this thing before you give up. We didn't make it this far to stop now. We ain't dying in no damn prison. I mean we're not dying at all, but definitely not up in some fucking air vent."

Yeah she wasn't the best at pep talks but at least she wasn't pitying Magna either. She didn't need that, didn't deserve it either. As politely as she could she climbed over her new friend (apologizing when her small chest dragged over Magna's back) and rested right in front of the object in their way. Granted the air felt amazing on her over heated face, but now was not the time for her to enjoy the feeling. Her eyes focused on the movement of the blades, counting how quickly the empty space passed between each one.

"Alright there's no way we can squeeze between the blades while they're moving, probably designed it that way. But if we can jam it with something we might be able to crawl through."

With what was the question however. None of her knives were thick enough for the job and it wasn't as if herself of Magna had a 2 by 4 hidden in their pants. Wait, her bag! Dragging it from her back around to her front Kyleigh dug around in it until she formed an idea.

"A sheet! I can put one of the sheets inside and let it get caught around the blades! It should stop the fan long enough for us to get through it!"

For the first time in ages, Magna finally smiled. That tension had faded from her face for a moment, that surly expression shifting to something almost serene, a glimmer of teeth showing and lighting up her visage. Maybe it was because Kyleigh was showing her joy in such an unrestrained, pure way that she just couldn’t help it but smile. Magna thought she looked as if they weren’t stuck in one shithole of a prison with still one hell of a high chance of death. They weren’t out yet. But even Magna felt that rush of hope for more than a few seconds, as if all that horror she has been going through hadn’t been for nothing, after all. She could believe it, at least at that moment. And that feeling of hope kept lingering for a while longer, even intensifying upon hearing the news of Kyleigh being a mechanic.

In fascination, Magna watched the woman work on the generator, but she was quick to turn off most of the switches so no devices that have been left on would turn on and waste energy. She kept a few ones - like the switches for the electronic devices in the room - on to see if it would work, as well as the ones labeled for the exhaust and the vents.

Soon, the room was filled with the sound of a short buzz followed by an ongoing low hum. She had never considered what the hell might be on those screens and when they turned on, showing images of prison rooms, Magna felt a tension in her facial muscles from her grin. She hadn’t smiled for so long that it was beginning to feel like using an underdeveloped muscle.

“You did damn good work there. You might just have granted us our only chance of escaping this mess”, Magna spoke, smile still gracing her features.

“The door is soundproof. See the silicone seals around the door frame? They form an airtight seal”, Magna assured Kyleigh the moment she ran to the door. While Kyleigh checked the door, Magna turned off the light in the generator room. “We might need that extra energy”, she reasoned, she didn’t know how much power was left.

She glanced towards one of the two screens, each displayed four areas of the prison. Eight areas wasn't much help as large as this prison was, but Magna felt glad the screens weren't limited to just one area.

One of the areas she was quick to recognize - the cafeteria, which once had been filled with dead to the brim and which Magna had locked up and barricaded, now only featuring a few of them still lingering in the room. Clearly, they had long broken the barricade Magna had set up. “They’re probably scattered all across the prison now”, Magna remarked, brows furrowing as she thought of which angles they had to consider if they wanted to get the hell out. The dead liked to stick together, but they were most likely in every damn hallway now that Magna and Kyleigh had made all that noise by crawling through the vents.

The other seven areas shown on camera were mostly hallways and corridors, as well as an image of the room itself featuring Magna and Kyleigh. For as childish as it was, she couldn't help but stick out her middle finger as she spotted the camera in the generator room, thinking back of how much she had grown to hate this place. Then she turned back to Kyleigh.

"Look, there's a mantrap airlock. Could come in handy if we figured out a way to control it. Let's remember that", Magna pointed out. They had those doors for extra security, with one door opening to let the person inside a small area in which they would be checked for weapons or other security breaches. The door on the other side would only open once they were given authorization to pass through.

As for the other areas shown on the screens, they were rooms full of technical stuff Magna quite frankly didn't understand, but what she was wondering about most was why those particular areas were being shown. "Why is it all just hallways and maintenance rooms on the screens?", Magna asked, the frustration in her voice palpable. She had been hoping to see some outdoor area so she could figure out whether it was a safe bet to leave through that particular exit or not. Nothing shown on the screen really seemed to help, a realization which had her fingers curl to fists. But maybe.. "I recognize the hallways. I think the camera is only showing us nearby areas."

It made sense. This wasn't a surveillance room, just a generator room. Why would it show anything other than areas directly related to the generator room?

"Let's get to the surveillance room. I know it's right next to this room."

There was one more thing she remembered, though. How hasn't it crossed her mind yet?

“If there's a generator in here, there has to be an exhaust. The exhaust from the generator can’t be far from here. You were right, Kyleigh. The exit is nearby”, Magna remarked with the hint of a grin, a proud kind directed towards the woman. Having assumed that Kyleigh had been hallucinated, she thought that there probably wouldn’t be an exit nearby, but now she knew there must be. And Kyleigh had led her there, even though it was just because she had imagined the sound of thunder (or so Magna thought).

All they needed to figure out was how to get to that exit, and whether it was safe or blocked by the sickos. The last thing she wanted was to get her hopes up too high only to be screwed the moment they left the building.

"The surveillance room should have screens for every room and the outdoor areas, too. There isn't a place in this prison without cameras."

Once they were back in the vents again, Magna was quick to notice how fresh and comfortably cool the air had gotten, the low whirring noise quickly giving away that this all had been thanks to the fans installed in the air ducts. Magna figured this area probably had them because of the generator. The relief quickly turned into frustration upon the sight of what was blocking the way to the surveillance room, which Magna knew was east. All that fucking effort for a fan to block the way?!

No way they could crawl through that. Not with those razor sharp blades spinning at that speed, which would rip their flesh out, no doubt. "Shit!", she cursed, the word echoing through the ducts and in all her desperation, Magna didn't even notice how her fist had slammed against the floor of the air ducts in anger, the low thud of it lingering in the air for a while longer due to the echo. How the hell would they get through that fan?! Her heart felt as if it had been pierced by a blade and that blade twisted around when the shrill sound rang through Magna's ears, a relentless wailing of sirens that had finally given Magna the final push she needed to fucking cry.

This had all been her fault. The worst thing was that she wasn't the only one who would have to suffer the consequences of her stupid actions. She'd gotten Kyleigh involved in this crap. A heat surged through her, a feeling of shame moving from the pit of her stomach right to her face and threatening to swallow her whole the moment the voice message started playing. WARNING. INTRUSION DETECTED. ALL INMATES MUST RETURN TO THE CELLS. ALL SECURITY GUARDS MUST FOLLOW THE SECURITY BREACH PROTOCOL.

#☾ laskar1s #☾ v: Welcome To the New Age #☾ (The Walking Dead)#☾ Escaping The Prison #☾ c: Magna #☾ friends of the half lycan; Magna #☾ no but that's so smart!#☾ they have to have those systems in place just in case of an attempted escape #☾ so of course it happens to them lol #☾ Ky chancing them getting chopped to bits though #☾ of course haha

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papermonkeyism · 1 year ago

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In a surprise twist of events I just got a text message from my boss in the warehouse asking if I can get back to work next week already. A whole month earlier than previously planned!

Awyeah, back to having an income, here we go!

#shut up paper #Paper does a job #pretty good timing all things considered!#still waiting for the government office to process my unemployment benefits application (should be done by the end of next week)#but now it's less pressing #also great news for my union benefits too #they changed the law recently that starting from this fall you need to have had a job for a full year to be eligible for the union benefits #instead of half a year as it's always been before #I still need seven weeks of having a job to meet the half-year and I need to do that BEFORE the new law gets in effect #so now I know I'm safe there too #hurray!

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capricioussun · 2 months ago

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I do feel compelled to apologize for falling off the face of the planet. It appears the new meds I've been on have been making my brain fog a lot worse. Will talk to my dr abt it next month and see if anything can be done. In the meanwhile. I will continue chipping away at things

#sunny with clouds #was struggling enough as it was before. I've been stuck on this commission for almost a year and I feel terrible abt it #not to mention the other half a dozen things I thought I'd have done by now #I really wish I was a crier so I could get some of these gunky emotions out but alas #instead I will marinate and then force my way through the bog as always #literally just verbally sighed typing that. man. there's gotta be some way to change living like this

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widevibratobitch · 9 months ago

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7 minutes of a phonecall with my mother is enough for me to start being a bitch lol

#i understand that going by train is a novelty for her but i spend half of my motherfucking life on trains and i feel sick just getting on em #but im '20 not 80' so i have no right to prefer not to spend 5.5 to 7 fucking hours on a train (which will ALWAYS be longer than it says)#when i can split that journey in 2 instead because. AGAIN. ive been getting on longer train rides at least twice a week on average #(sometimes more) for the past 3 years and i KNOW FOR A FACT that i start losing my goddamn mind and getting overstimulated after 3-4 hours #and i KNOW its gonna be a fucking NIGHTMARE for me to go on a completely avoidable 7 hour long ride WITH HER SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME #and its not that we really MUST choose the cheapest option because the difference will be like 20 zł at best #what the fuck is that woman's problem #the fact that she cant understand that 7 hours of sitting motionless in a closed space with Other People is nightmarish for me #and i cant explain it to her because we keep playing this fucked up game where i pretend that im Normal and not Mentally Fucked Up #but i can only keep it going for so long before the symptoms of Not Being As Normal As We Both Hoped Id Be start to show #and i can only mask them for so long too and why is it so hard to split that fucking train ride #and then IM the evil one and a bitch when i tell her 'okay we'll do it your way' cause she Doesnt Deserve That Tone From Me #babygirl you deserve SO much worse from me particularly fuck this this trip is gonna be a nightmare #i want siblings so bad. i just want someone on my fucking team why am i always simultaneously the Stupid the Bad and the Crazy one here

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tonycries · 11 months ago

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The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school.

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt.

Never mess with you. Anyone but you.

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second.

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team.

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile.

Everything.

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else.

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all.

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss.

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you.

Everything.

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio.

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you.

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries.

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments.

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew.

You’d kissed him back.

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister.

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good.

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up.

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by.

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling.

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.”

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine.

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics.

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked.

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss.

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door.

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that.

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for.

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth.

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours.

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes.

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship.

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious.

What did he have that Satoru didn’t?

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his.

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.”

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom.

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye.

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn.

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy.

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh.

Shit.

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank.

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck.

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.”

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now.

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?”

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.”

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused.

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today.

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway.

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there.

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru.

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms.

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life.

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned.

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.”

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you.

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt.

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you.

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist.

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?”

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?”

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you.

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so.

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots.

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually.

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit.

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene.

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?”

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully.

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out.

Like you were about to snap. Any second now.

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…” Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt.

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours.

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection.

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous.

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.”

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.”

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.”

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch.

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag.

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.”

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact.

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps.

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling.

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-”

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-”

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll.

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt.

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.”

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white.

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family.

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

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