#it killed me a little to not mention him that much bc this post is abt tdmd as a ship bc they r my. sighs. otp.

[unfortunatelyilikebnha]

The best tdmd moments/things (to me; vaguely but not entirely chronological) (also I haven’t read the manga in ages and I’ve only - recently at least - rewatched bits and pieces so some of this is paraphrased while some of it I went back through to get exact quotes and NO I’m not going to do that for all of them it would take too long) (readmore bc it’s a lot):

- “As the crowd shouted, trying to make Sero feel better, Todoroki took a moment to melt his opponent from the ice prison he’d created. For some reason, in that moment, he looked very sad to me.” Ok so this is not the sports festival moment everyone talks about but it LIVES in my head ABSOLUTELY RENT FREE. It’s like, we know Todoroki’s been watching Midoriya for a while, mostly due to his obvious connection with All Might, but in this moment, while everyone is focusing on Sero, Midoriya is Watching Todoroki Back. He Sees Him.

- MIDORIYA TELLING ENDEAVOR THAT HE IS NOT ALL MIGHT AND SHOUTO IS NOT HIM. Midoriya is freeeeeaked tf out bc endvr is intimidating + he’s worried he’ll discover the secret of OFA but the SECOND endvr starts talking like an asshole, Midoriya SHUTS THAT SHIT DOWN. Again, Midoriya has had like ONE conversation with Todoroki and actively Really Wants To Get Away From Endeavor, but he just gets so mad about the way that Endeavor’s talking that he pauses his retreat to correct him and I think that’s beautiful.

- One of Todoroki’s episodes/chapters being titled “The boy born with everything” and how you could easily contrast Midoriya as “The boy born with nothing” (I could not find a definitive answer on whether canon actually calls him that but like). The juxtaposition of their opposite struggles and the underlying understanding that underneath it all they are really not that different. That they have both suffered, and are both trying to make the most of a power with a difficult legacy. (This brings me to the next point because -)

- “It’s your power, isn’t it?”/“It’s yours! Your quirk, not his!” Yeah. I don’t even have to explain this one I think, everyone knows it’s THE tddk moment. I’ll forever die on the hill that Todoroki should’ve found out about OFA sooner and we should’ve had a direct reversal while Midoriya was still struggling with thinking of OFA as his quirk instead of All Might’s and Todoroki repeats Midoriya’s words right back at him. I mean, Horikoshi LOVES to do that (see: repetition of “body moved without thinking”, “meddling when you aren’t asked to is the essence of being a hero”, “that’s what friends are for, right?” etc) the setup was RIGHT THERE, like taking my shipping goggles or whatever off for a second I think it would’ve been a great addition to the story regardless bc it’s an example of how Midoriya has helped other people AND a reminder that he has not quite conceptualized the advice he gives others for himself! Even without that though, we see how important this moment was to Todoroki literally throughout the rest of his arc, to the point that

- “Midoriya, this is my power. Thank you.” IF WE DIDNT GET TDRK TELLING MDYA THAT OFA WAS HIS QUIRK, AT LEAST WE GOT THIS. MY GOD. I was trying to go mostly chronologically, but since we’re talking about a follow-up to “It’s your power, isn’t it?” I HAD to mention this scene next. It’s a really lovely moment because 1) it’s an acknowledgement of how much Todoroki’s grown (which he did on his own! Midoriya reminded him of why he wanted to become a hero in the first place, and he had a lot of support from friends (& teachers/family) but TODOROKI decided to put in the work to become the kind of hero he wanted to be!) and 2) it’s a reminder to Midoriya that he has made a positive impact and helped the people around him, which I think he’s probably struggling with since this is like. Soon after his dropout arc iirc. (Also: it’s a cool new super move that Todoroki developed himself to try to create a better future for his family!! Which, setting aside how beautiful it is that Todoroki has crafted his fire into something that won’t hurt, is also fun bc Midoriya loves quirks and gets to nerd out over Todoroki’s cool new move lol)

- TODOROKI SHOWING UP TO THE STAIN FIGHT. Todoroki has been friends with Midoriya for like a week and gets a location pin with no other context and IMMEDIATELY deduces that 1) Midoriya’s not the kind of guy to randomly drop his location so 2) he must be in danger, and 3) IMMEDIATELY TELLS ENDEAVOR HE’S GOING TO CHECK OUT THE LOCATION AND TO BRING BACKUP TO THERE AFTER HE’S DONE FIGHTING BC HE THINKS HIS FRIEND’S IN TROUBLE. When he actually shows up the first thing he says is something like “Midoriya you should include more details at a time like this. It took me a while to figure out what you meant and I could’ve been too late” but we literally see in the flashback that he figured this all out in like 2 seconds and IMMEDIATELY came to support Midoriya AND SECURED BACKUP. Every person in Midoriya’s phone received the location pin and expressed various levels of curiosity/concern about it in hindsight but Todoroki figured it out right away and immediately came to help (this isn’t a knock on the rest of 1a btw iirc the rest of them weren’t even in Hosu so there’s not anything they really could’ve done about it besides report it - which iirc Kirishima did -, it’s just that Todoroki WAS in Hosu and DID figure it out so he immediately went to help and it was that simple for him). Todoroki also just like. Instantly accepts that ok, Midoriya and Iida were fighting a serial killer, Guess He’s Also Fighting A Serial Killer Now. ALL THIS FOR HIS FRIEND OF A WEEK. This is one of the core tenets of tddkism to me: they are as ride-or-die as they come. Also notable: Midoriya is not generally in the habit of asking for help. The fact that he did, knowing nothing might come of it, AND TODOROKI SHOWED UP EXACTLY WHEN HE NEEDED HIM??? Can we acknowledge how much that probably meant to Midoriya. Also the start of tdiimd as a trio, which this post isn’t really about, but I can’t completely leave Iida out when talking abt the stain fight that’d be fucked up :(

- “We’ll protect them together”. Yes ik, another Stain fight moment, but I believe this line deserves its own point because, again, Todoroki has been Midoriya’s friend for like a week. Immediately prior to Todoroki saying this, he tells Midoriya that his plan is risky. It’s one thing to recognize Midoriya’s text as a call for help and run to be his backup, it’s another thing to let Midoriya take the strategic lead when he’s already injured and the plan itself could be dangerous. But Todoroki puts his trust in Midoriya and says they’ll protect them together, showing his confidence in Midoriya’s strategic prowess AND battle planning ability.

- “You’re a kind person, Todoroki”. Ok I’ll get this out of the way: I have issues with how the writing of this chapter could be read as implying that being a kind person automatically means you have to forgive the person who hurt you. Ik Midoriya tells Todoroki that it’s ok not to forgive Endvr if he doesn’t want to, but the way he follows it up with the fact that he’s a kind person and the assumption that he wants to forgive Endvr...aren’t my favorite. I think it kind of makes sense for Midoriya to think like this given his own experiences (and also. Midoriya is 15, some of his wording is gonna be a little bit awkward sometimes, so I don’t think that’s the only possible interpretation of what he said), but I wish that if that was the intention, there’d be a moment later on where this view was challenged and Midoriya really internalized that you can be kind and still not forgive someone who’s hurt you. THAT BEING SAID, of all the things that Todoroki is called on a regular basis, and of all the qualities Todoroki associates with himself, I don’t think “kind” is necessarily one of them. “Kindness” was not exactly a virtue that Endeavor seemed to prioritize instilling in him (and though Rei probably would’ve, she WAS absent for much of Shouto’s childhood), and he spent so much time building his walls and striving to defy his dad that it’s not something people tend to immediately pinpoint about him. Todoroki really IS kind though, and Midoriya recognizes that AND makes it a point to tell him. For Todoroki, who has worked on himself quite a lot, and just invited friends to his house probably for the first time ever + gone through a tense family dinner in front of them, I think that probably meant a lot (and his expression in that panel is so cute. Ough).

- “Thank you for being Shouto’s friend”. I think the fact that Fuyumi recognized how meaningful their friendship was and thanked Izuku for it was so significant for both of them, like neither of them, as far as we know, HAD a lot of friends prior to attending UA so the acknowledgement that it is a big deal that they befriended each other is special <3

- Tdrk catching Mdya (and bkg and endvr but this ain’t about them) during the first war arc. He doesn’t know shit about OFA at this point but he followed Midoriya to the front lines anyways.

- Todoroki tucking Midoriya in in 327 and putting a hand on his shoulder in 32…8? 9? Fuck if I know I haven’t read the manga in ages. Anyways. These are both tiny moments but I’m grouping them together bc they really show how Todoroki is there for Midoriya, in the way that he’s always noticing things about him, that he’s RELIABLE, he WANTS to be there for Midoriya like Midoriya was there for Todoroki and that manifests both in following him into terrifying fights and in the small gestures of support. Todoroki NOTICES when something’s wrong, and when he has the necessary context he steps up to help.

Bonus mentions:

- the “are you all might’s secret love child or something?” convo in its entirety. Between the Todoroki Family Trauma Dump, Midoriya sympathizing with Todoroki and realizing that despite how different their lives have been, they’re very similar, the beginning of Midoriya’s desire to help Todoroki, and the beginning of Midoriya really Seeing Todoroki, it sets the groundwork for the start of something beautiful

- AFO: “pay close attention to them, tomura shigaraki. These two could prove to be formidable obstacles to you one day”. / AM: “they may have more in common than they realize. They both have such an intense vibe about them.” The fact that both AFO and AM comment on the tdmd sports festival match leads me to believe that originally their relationship (in the original story I’m talking about the platonic sense but read this any way you will since. This IS a post abt why I ship them) was supposed to be more central to the plot, in this essay I will - (<- ramblings of a crazy person but like!!! Both AM and AFO!! And you’re telling me it didn’t mean anything??? Come on!!)

- Also “you’re helping your opponent. You’re a fool.” Their matching maniacal grins after Midoriya prompts Todoroki to use his fire. Todoroki’s softer smile and little tear. Mdya’s “Amazing…”. Them immediately deciding to go full force regardless if it kills them (IMPORTANT FACT ABOUT THEM IS THAT THEY’RE INSANE <3). “Midoriya…thank you.” (OUGHHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭)

- MDYA YELLING “DONT GIVE UP” DURING THE TDRK/BKG MATCH AND FOR A BRIEF MOMENT TODOROKI STARTS USING HIS FIRE AGAIN. Ik he ultimately doesn’t end up using his fire, but that makes SENSE, you can’t process all that trauma immediately, it takes time!! The fact that for a moment, Midoriya’s voice was enough to allow him to use his fire so soon after his life-altering revelation in the tdmd match is so important to me though :( (and the fact that Midoriya’s willing to 1) root for Todoroki and 2) root for him loud enough that both Todoroki and Bkg can hear,,, ohh tdmd are so special to me)

- their little convo at the training camp. “You have a habit of sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong” lol (paraphrased). Underrated tdmd thing is that they’re willing to tell it to each other straight. But also, the genuinely good advice of “words themselves aren’t enough, actions are also needed to get through to someone” (again, paraphrased) (reminder of how Mdya helped Tdrk!! W/ words AND actions!! And now he’s helping Mdya help Kota!)

- “I don’t know, I think heroes cry when they need to probably” - acknowledges Mdya’s crying as a positive trait bc when he’s not crying it means he’s repressing things, also serves as a reminder that heroes are people too (a similar sentiment to Uraraka’s “who will save the heroes when they need saving?”). Serves to remind Mdya that his crying doesn’t make him less of a hero + it’s ok to feel things. Also Tdiimd.

- “You can’t even cry”/“Let us share that burden together” (this is like. Veeeery paraphrased I’m sorry I don’t have access to the chapter and I’m too lazy to rewatch). The whole class said very meaningful things to try to get Midoriya to come back, but even though he wasn’t ultimately the one to fully get through to him (SHOUTOUT TO IIDA ILY IIDA THIS POST ISNT ABOUT HIM EITHER BUT JUST KNOW I CANT WATCH THAT SCENE WITHOUT TEARING UP THEY R SO DEAR TO ME) Todoroki’s is one of my favorites bc sure maybe he doesn’t understand what it’s like to have no quirk and then suddenly have a quirk that’s actually seven quirks and have a pretty much all-powerful supervillain hunting him down but he DOES understand the burden of trying to shoulder the crushing legacy of a top hero, and here he reaches out to Midoriya once more reminding him that his tears are a good thing and offering to share the burden and help Midoriya like Midoriya’s helped him.

- Light novel moments: Mdya teaching Tdrk how to make AM origami and Tdrk sending it to Rei, Tdrk going to return Mdyas pencil and admiring Mdyas AM figure and Mdya trying to give it to him bc he has another one but Tdrk refuses bc he doesn’t want to damage it so he suggests he just come visit it instead (I haven’t read the light novels but I’ve seen these excerpts and I love them dearly) (these are just all really cute it’s nice to see what they’re like outside of doing hero stuff)

- Todoroki’s “Midoriya Sense” (yes this is a fandom joke based on like the stain incident + noticing smth was up during the “heroes cry too” incident + Todoroki asking abt him before the cultural festival etc but it IS genuinely very sweet that Todoroki is always looking out for Midoriya and trying his best to help when he can)

- TODOROKI TELLING MIDORIYA TO REMOVE THE BATTERIES FROM HIS PHONE SO THE GOVERNMENT COULDNT TRACK HIM WHILE HE WAS ON THE RUN BC HE WAS A MURDER SUSPECT. Now I haven’t watched the third movie so I may be wrong about the details but it was VERY funny of Tdrk to be like “did you kill people??? Never mind that actually here’s how to avoid the government” (paraphrased for comedic effect)

-“Midoriya and the others” (cute, something Shouto says…several times lmao) (Izuku has also said “Todoroki and the others” at least once (in the first movie) but I’m not aware of it being a recurring phrase like “Midoriya and the others”)

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

Hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision.

ᰔ pairing. babysitter/boxing au - underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). the kid’s mom gave gojo two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control over the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, smut, casual sex, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of crack, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, gojo is a sleazebag that cares?, sort of porn-coded smut except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught, gojo beats people up at night & then plays father figure to a 5 y/o during the day, mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood/cigarettes

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

a/n. hiiii friends jeez it feels like FOREVER since i've posted some good ol' smut (still has plot tho xd)...hopefully you enjoy n see ya at the bottom! lmk if i missed any warnings! if you asked to be tagged but didn’t get tagged it’s bc you have your tags off aaa :( even when some ppl tried to fix it i still couldn’t tag them i’m sorry!!

alsoooooo so very much love to @starmapz for beta reading this for me :”) really helped me w my posting nerves haha. she is also a wonderful jjk author pls go check out her works!! 💕 ART CREDITS: @/3-aem

➸ masterlist

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): heyy um i’m sorry if this comes off kinda rude i just am kinda bad with this but i was wondering if you could text my mom for questions about yuuji’s care instead of me?

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Oh 2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Yeah, sure

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sorry i know my mom doesn’t know much ab how to take care of him bc i was the one that took care of him for a while but i just really want to separate myself from that guardian role now that i’ve transferred to NYU yknow? :/ i think it’s not my place anymore. i just wanna be big sis now haha

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: I get it. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable with my texts

2:48pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): no no not uncomfy by it, thanks for looking after him. it’s just i’m kind of busy n stuff so it can be distracting 

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

2:52pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): and it was kind of an issue with his last babysitter

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

2:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeahhh like he would keep textinf me n stuff uhh kinda weird things… i told my mom about it and she was super pissed so she fired him

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

2:56pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah he was always “accidentally sexting me” n like he sent me a dick pic once sooooo yeah

2:56pm Gojo Satoru: Who tf 2:56pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll go beat him up

2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): oh no no its fine lol 2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): please dont beat anyone up 2:58pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i’m not saying you’re like him tho i just think maybe less texting unless its an emergency okay?

3:00pm Gojo Satoru: Are you sure because I will totally go beat him up for you

3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO I DONT WANT YOU TO BEAT ANYONE UP FOR ME 3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): also no offense but you dont look like you could beat someone up

3:01pm Gojo Satoru: WHAT 3:02pm Gojo Satoru: Tf you mean “no offense” that’s literally the most offensive thing you could say to a guy

3:04pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeaa i mean you have muscles ofc but in the ‘ohhh i wanna look good for instagram’ way and not like real man muscles yknow

3:06pm Gojo Satoru: Ok princess next time you visit home and go on one of your stupidly large grocery hauls I’ll make sure you carry all those groceries in by yourself 

3:06pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): I WAS JUST JOKING 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): YOURE SO STRONG TY FOR ALWAYS CARRYING THE GROCERIES INSIDE 3:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): PLEASE KEEP CARRYING MY GROCERIES INSIDE

3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Nah 3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Should we be texting right now? I’m not sensing any emergencies here

3:11pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): pls. my groceries :(

3:16pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll let the kiddo know you say hi 👋🏼 

The irony of it all was that, if Gojo really wanted to, he absolutely could beat the shit out of someone. And he has, hundreds of times, pseudo professionally. Although that isn’t something he’d admit to you, out of fear that you might relay that info back to your mom who would then become mortified that she’s entrusted her five-year-old son’s life to the hands of an underground boxer. 

But he needed the money. A night-time job didn’t really make daytime money, not when they could easily replace him with the next dude the second he gets knocked out of the ring more than twice, let alone if he let it happen once. And although he sometimes made large sums, it wasn’t stable income. He needed a back-up plan, and so babysitting it was. 

The babysitter working nights at unsanctioned dojos and gyms located in the back of cartel blocks, knocking teeth out of men twice his size, would put any decent mother into a coma or induce some episode of syncope, hence why it wasn’t something he put on his resume before he got hired. Not that he even needed to provide a resume; your mom seemed desperate to cover the position as fast as possible, that promotion at work was moving faster than she wanted to, and Gojo’s beneficial attribute that he possessed as a candidate to look after her son, compared to all the other potential hires, was that he had a penis.

He likes the kid. Yuuji. He’s got kind of a short attention span, and makes Gojo weary of his age. Hold up, that makes him sound like he’s geriatric, he’s really only the ripe old age of twenty-seven, but the immortality and infinite stamina that a five-year-old boy has on him is enough to have him huffing and puffing at the end of every single evening shift he takes on with the rascal. 

Fighting is all sprint, and no stamina. Sure, there might be some more seasoned boxers that might disagree with him, but for someone as young as him in the field, it’s the tactic he’s been forced to gain. If he draws a fight on for too long, he'll get killed by a forty-two year old man with steroids clogging up his adipose tissue and enough  testosterone to grow a full-body beard by the time the sun starts to set. No, his strategy is to knock them out within the first fifteen seconds. Use their weight against them, and whatnot. A tactic he’s found has worked, since he’s been undefeated thus far. 

He can never wrap his head around it. The drug lords that run the rings who’ve gained millions the night before from selling crystal meth only to lose it all the night following in the second Gojo hooklines a solid punch to their betting boxer’s chin, making them see God & their Momma before they tap out (if they’re even able).

He doesn’t pocket much money from it, not anything compared to what the men who bet on him end up making at least, but it’s a decently solid sum. How lucrative it really is depends solely on what he thinks the value of his life is.

It’s not unheard of, boxers dying in the ring. Turns out, rich drug dealers care very little about the sheep they’ve captured to perform their entertaining little stunts. But Gojo wasn’t doing all of this to feel some sense of work-life pride, no, it was just sustenance. When basic needs are not met, humans resort to the most animalistic of all behaviors, and while he’s not proud of what he does, he can’t deny the fact that it’s turned him into an adrenaline junkie that gets a rush in his veins every time he knocks a jaw loose.

But balance was key. And hence why he’s a boxer by night, babysitter by day. For at least four days a week, he gets to pretend he’s the king’s most trusted appointed knight, or he’s the radioactive tyrannosaurus rex that wants to tyrannize all the other dinosaurs, or maybe he’s the evil power ranger (he always forgets which color that one was) that is determined to make the world a living hell by smashing mr. potatohead against the bunk bed post a billion times for all the other toys to see. Or whatever other imaginative hyperfixations Yuuji imposes on him in the later afternoon once he’s had his bowl of spaghetti-O’s and is ready to play. Lately, the kid’s been really into space. They’ve got all sorts of space toys these days. Back in Gojo’s day, he just had a good ol’ Buzz Lightyear.

“One rule, that’s it: don’t accidentally kill my son. Actually, one more rule. Don’t flirt with my daughter.” 

There’s a part of Gojo that believes your mom kind of knows he’s up to shady shit at night, otherwise why else would she clause for him to not flirt with you if she didn’t read the slight swell to his eye and the healing gash across his cheek as anything other than this boy is trouble and I want him nowhere near my too-good-for-him daughter of reproductive capacity since that’s the exact tale of how I became a single mother in the first place. Or maybe he inherently looks like he’s up to no good? He’s not sure which angle is more offensive, and which one was more flattering. Well in any case, she entrusted Yuuji’s life to him, despite acknowledging the plausibility of harm, and that means she overall thinks positively of him, right? ……right?

The first night he met you, it was awkward to say the least. Gojo spends most of his nights performing deadly stunts for middle aged men with potbellies, and most of his days hanging out with a five-year-old (one who he’d argue is his only friend at this point). Sure, he’s got some people he sees occasionally back in his high school hometown when he can brave hearing about how everyone’s in college now or doing a masters or they’re working respectable nine-to-five day jobs meanwhile he has to lie to his Pops that he’s been working in insurance for the past two years. Listen, in fairness, he probably makes the same amount of money as an insurance broker would anyways, but he can’t exactly own up to the identity of his craft. 

Anyways, the point is, he’s not used to seeing other people his age anymore. There’s the occasional hook-up with girls he hasn’t seen since Mrs. Tracy’s homeroom period back in sweet two-thousand-sixteen, or his twice-a-year hangout with Suguru where he only learns the day of where he's visiting from since the guy moves around more than Gojo can keep up with. But save for that, he mostly just sees your mom and then Yuuji. 

So seeing you standing in the kitchen for the first time when he went to put Yuuji’s half-finished GoGurt back in the fridge was startling to say the least. When the sight of a woman startled him, he knew he needed to start getting out again.

You were on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab at something over the fridge, and wearing these ridiculously short shorts to where he could see the curve of your ass, his line of sight trailing down the skin of your bare legs. He couldn’t see anything of your form above your shorts, given you were wearing an extremely baggy t-shirt with NYU on it in big bolded university letters. As far as he knew, you were a senior at NYU, studying psychology, made dean’s list consecutively for the past three years given the way your mother posted all your stellar transcripts up on the fridge (he gets that she’s proud of her daughter, but doesn’t that kind of stuff usually end in grade school?) But other than that, it was all the information he had on you.

“Here,” he said, pressing his front to your back, maybe just to get a feel, as he reached over to you to finally grab the box of cereal you were swatting for, the one that he purposefully placed at the back because Yuuji learned how to climb counters recently. “Is this what you want?”

He had heard you gasp, spinning around on your heel fast, staring up at him with wide eyes like you weren’t expecting some random man to be in the house right now, and your first instinct ended up being to grab the knife out of the kitchen knife block and lunge it straight at his torso.

If it wasn’t for his boxer reflexes, he’d have ended up at the ER that evening. Or dead. All depending on the strength you could pack into a stab. But instead, he deflected it, though not without a gash to his torso through the fabric of his shirt, one that you spent the rest of the evening profusely apologizing for and eventually mending to with cotton balls and neosporin. 

“I didn’t know you were my little brother’s babysitter,” you mumbled with a small wince on your face as you dabbed ointment on the wound while he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his shoulder. He’s never had an injury tended to before. It was nice.

“It’s fine, I get it, totally acceptable response to seeing a random dude in your house.”

He remembers the curl of your eyelashes while you stared down at his bare upper half, something he imprinted on his memory rather than the concern in your face as your fingertips traced the scars across his chest. He hoped they made you feel better about the one you just slashed into him, because after all, what was one more? 

He knows he shouldn’t have, but he kissed you that night. Two minutes before your mom came home, and right after you bid him goodnight with one more apology, he backed you up against the door of your bedroom, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him, and his lips pressed against yours. Something seamless, from candid conversation that was heading towards an end, to full fledged making out against white-painted wood, his teeth nipping at your lip and he wondered just how touch-starved those university boys were leaving you given the desperate way you’d clinged to his shirt for dear life as he deepened the kiss.

The moment only lasted one minute and fifty-seven seconds, and in the remaining three, your mother’s key pushed into the front door and he had to pull away. Always, on the dot, 10PM, she was home. It was how he knew he had two minutes left to make a move in the first place.

So much for no flirting.

6:57pm Gojo Satoru: Bahahah I accidentally forgot where yuuji’s epipen is 6:58pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 6:59pm Gojo Satoru: Turns out this can-o-soup was just covering it in the cabinet

7:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): ??? why did you need to find his epipen

7:08pm Gojo Satoru: Oh he accidentally took a bite of my pad thai 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: I freaked cuz I thought it had peanuts in it but I remember I asked for it without any  7:09pm Gojo Satoru: shit’s crazy

7:10pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TEXT ME????????

7:12pm Gojo Satoru: YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT ME TEXTING YOU UNLESS IT WAS AN EMERGENCY ?

7:13pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): SATORU YOU THOGHT HE ATE SOMETHING W PEANUTS IN IT AND YOU FORGOT WHERE HIS EPIPEN WAS THATSS A FUCKIGN EMERGENCY

7:15pm Gojo Satoru: THE KID IS DOING FINE HES ALIVE JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: See. he’s chill 7:17pm Gojo Satoru: with intact airways might I add 7:18pm Gojo Satoru: Also isn’t he a little too old to still be watching baby sensory videos?

7:20pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah my mom thinks he has adhd :(

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

He tried to keep his word though (although he doesn’t recall ever giving it) out of the respect he had for your mom. She was a hard-working lady, single mom of two who went from working three jobs to now being a major administrator at a big law firm near the outskirts of town. It was an underdog story if he’d ever heard one, and he loved an underdog story. 

But a little texting here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? Or so he thought, until you told him to cut it out with the contact. Maybe you were just trying to be the good one in this situation. After all, hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision. Still, he’ll eventually get your replies to his which shirt should Yuuji wear to the park? and look, the toothfairy gave him the butt of a joint and a couple thumbtacks for his front tooth. he’s ecstatic texts, although in a less timely manner than before when you weren’t trying to preserve propriety. And when you’d occasionally visit every other weekend, he’d do his best to keep his hands in his pockets, and you’d fill up your nights with hangouts with your hometown friends to avoid spending too much time with him at the house. A silent agreement to not fuck each other, it was. 

4:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): send pic of yuuji pls i miss him :(

5:04pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo]

5:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): IS THAT BLOOD?!?!?!?!

5:09pm Gojo Satoru: chillllllll it’s fake. We’re working on his halloween costume

5:09pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY DOES IT HAVE BLOOD?!?!?!?!?!?

5:10pm Gojo Satoru: He wants to be a baby xenomorph and I'm his parasitic host. You know that iconic chestburster scene from the old school alien movies? yeah

5:12pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): satoru please for the love of god just dress him up as a dinosaur or something

5:13pm Gojo Satoru: I’m not the one that came up with the idea, okay? It was him

5:14pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): because you let him watch adult swim with you before putting him to bed. you’ve deranged his brain.

5:14pm Gojo Satoru: He needs it. Builds character.

Gojo was living a double life, and if someone asked him, he’d say it was less of a Clark Kent way and more of a Bruce Wayne way, although in reality, he knows it’s close to neither. He’s no superhero with a concealed identity fighting crime, he’s a con artist that’s tricked a hard-working woman into hiring him just because he’s trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this godforsaken town, given he’s not knocked dead before then for the crime’s amusement.

But Yuuji looks up to him now. And Gojo’s grown attached to him too. He taught the kid how to tie his own shoes and piss inside the actual toilet like a real man. And that kid’s the only thing that’s made him question any of this. Maybe that’s what dads feel, suddenly held to all this impossible responsibility and the pressure to stop doing stupid shit so that you’ll stick around to see your kids get older. The thought that there are eyes on you now, eyes that are innocent and hopeful and learning, and because they know nothing at all, you feel the responsibility to protect them from everything. For fucks sake, remind him to never become a dad. 

“Do you like my sister?” Yuuji had asked him out of nowhere one afternoon after he just got home from preschool, stacking a blue cube over a yellow one at the dining table.

“Uhh,” Gojo starts. He wondered if your mom had put a wire on the kid, so his answer was as diplomatic as he could manage. “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ve got a cool sister.”

“But. But.” Yuuji stutters, trying to find his big boy words. He stretches up higher to reach the top of his stack of blocks, but he only has so much arm real estate at the age of five. “Do you like her like you wanna kiss her?”

Gojo grabs the block from the kid’s hand, for a moment questioning Yuuji’s decision to want to put a blue block over another blue block, but he figures aesthetics are the least of a kid’s concern, and so he places the block where Yuuji wanted it. 

Why does the kid know what kissing is anyway? Do kids know that kind of stuff at that age? Isn’t a kiss to a five-year-old just something their mom gives to them before they head off to preschool for the day? And not something that happens between adult men and women? Maybe he should stop watching that adult swim in front of him.

“No. I don’t want to kiss your sister,” he says, again, because he is suspicious of a wire. It was a lie and then some, because he wants to do a lot more than just kiss you.

Gojo lifts the RedBull he was nursing up to his lips and watches Yuuji in the corner of his eye as the kid stares at his growing stack of blocks with a concentrated expression on his face, his chubby fingers squeezing tightly into little round dimpled balls, like he’s putting together all his tiny brain cells together to form another coherent thought before turning to face Gojo on the chair.

“It’s ok. You can kiss her if you wan’ed to. You can marry her too,” Yuuji says.

Gojo almost spits out his RedBull. He barely manages to swallow it, a broken cough immediately leaving his throat when some of the liquid goes down the wrong pipe and he’s smacking a fist against his chest to knock the sanity back into himself.

“Where the fu—…where the flip did that come from?” he asks, blinking back tears from the rasp in his throat.

Yuuji’s small shoulders sulk as he sits back on his heels. “I want a papa.”

Oh fuck that hurt. Jesus christ, there was nothing more sad than that. Yuuji has literally never known what it’s like to have a dad, since his had left before he was even born. Gojo’s not really close to his old man by any means, but he had still been a fatherly figure in some pivotal moments when he had needed it growing up. Kids need their dads. And he’s seen enough people lose their way without one to know that the value of them is really underestimated.

He’s also kind of shocked that Yuuji really did think of you as his motherly figure. Maybe since it had always just been him and his dad, Gojo learned how to self sustain from a young age, and he and his dad became accustomed to just looking after their own interests to avoid the headache of tending to one another. My land is my land, and your land is yours, and there was the occasional Saturday night spent together with his dad’s millions of beer bottles emptied dry on the carpet in front of the 1992 box TV as the two shared a greasy pizza from the place down the street. That was the extent of family solidarity that he knew.

But he can’t imagine being barely eighteen and having to take care of your little brother all by yourself because your mom was too busy trying to put food on the table and was too poor to hire a babysitter. Your mom tried so damn hard to keep you away from the single teenage mother life, but somehow ended up giving it to you by proxy in the end anyway. It was no wonder you wanted space now that Yuuji’s a little older and your mom can afford a babysitter. No matter how much you might love your sibling, being their effective guardian out of pure necessity had to have taken a toll.

Gojo clears his throat before he speaks. “Buddy. If I married your sister, we’d be brothers. I wouldn’t be your dad.” 

Yuuji’s eyes light up at the word brother. “Brothers? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Bros.”

The kid giggles, all bubbly with cheeks rounding fully and eyes sparkling. Gojo reaches out to ruffle at his hair before Yuuji gets down onto one stubby leg at a time from the chair then bolts towards the kitchen.

“Juice!!” he yells somewhere around the corner out of sight.

Gojo sighs, staring at all the toys he pulled out for Yuuji to play with, all left in a scattered mess across the table. He gets up out of his chair and heads towards the fridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you your juice, you little demon.”

The conclusion he comes to, and it might read like an obvious one, is that kids don’t really know the reality of life, hence why adults hide so much from them. 

This is what he thinks of tonight when he wraps his worn out boxing tape around his hands and his wrist, tightening it with his teeth, and he can smell the sweat and grime from them. The back of the underground gym had an old dated locker room, and as Gojo stretches his neck side to side while sitting on the stiff metal bench, he eyes the peeling red paint of the locker in front of him, blurring vision making it look like spilt blood. 

His phone pings with a text. He shuffles inside his duffle bag to look for it while his other hand scratches at his bare chest.

1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): omgomgomg sor y i’m 

He blinks at the screen, confusion flashing across his face. He types one letter, but then he sees three dots and a speech text bubble in the bottom left, so he waits for you.

1:09am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i drunk :(

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

1:10am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): at a apartyyyy

His eyebrows raise slightly, the thought of you tipsy on some frat party couch flashing through his mind, yet of all things you could be doing at that frat party, you’re texting him? Must be a really boring party.

1:11am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): whyyy are you aawake?

1:12am Gojo Satoru: Couldn’t sleep 1:12am Gojo Satoru: Don’t you have a midterm in the morning?

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): wtf hwo do you knwo that

1:15am Gojo Satoru: Your mom keeps your schedule posted on the fridge

1:15am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): im so fucked;’;(((

He snorts. He’s got a bit more life experience than you, five-ish years to be exact, more than enough time to master the no-hangover hangout, but just before he can offer you some advice, he sees another text from you. 

1:16am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): can i tell u smething 

His gaze flits up to the ceiling briefly, and he hears commotion outside the thick walls of the locker room. The previous fight was over, and fast. The guy must’ve been knocked out in under twenty seconds tops, which means that Gojo was next up against whatever superbeast just beat him up. 

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

He stands up, placing his phone down on the bench before he flexes the muscles in his arms a couple times to get the blood flowing into them. And there’s the noise of another ping. Actually, four.

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sonetimes 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i thikn of  1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): when u kisse me 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): *kissed me

His eyes widen slightly, irises dry to the ashy cigarette smoke from outside lingering in the air, and his heart rate picks up a bit. An adrenaline junkie with close to no fear in his veins due to the way his amygdala’s been fried to a crisp from years of boxing, yet he’s got his breath hitched from the memory of your soft lips against his. It makes the blood rushing through the muscles of his arms rush somewhere down south instead.

Loud banging on the door of the locker room jolts him out of his trance, and he’s stiff around the edges once more.

“Satoru! You’re up, man,” he hears Danny, the fight coordinator, yell at him from the other side of the heavy & poorly-installed steel door.

Gojo sighs, glancing down at the texts on his phone. To respond, or not to respond. You’re off your face, clearly chatty from the alcohol, and he knows for certain you’ll regret every life decision you’ve ever made once you wake up in the morning and see the self sabotaging behaviors you’ve engaged in tonight. He knows that responding to you might put you at ease rather than straight up ignoring you, but the feeling will pass, and he has a match to win with no more room left to stall.

He makes his way out the locker room, pushing past the crowded halls of people underneath dim flashing club lighting, some dudes angrily jerking to face him when he pushes past them with a stiff shoulder, only for their eyes to widen when they see just exactly who pushed them. 

There’s strippers in the ring, doing some routine for pre-match, and Gojo narrows his eyes at the man he sees laying back over the rubber boundary rope, head tipped back up to the ceiling with a wicked grin on his face. So that was his opponent? He’s never seen the guy before. Was he from a different district? Different district talent was tough, you had no background info on them, while they’ve been preparing to be here for weeks. Hence why boxers tend to do better when they visit a different district than they do in their own. There have been rules made to limit these types of fights, mostly over outrage that it was unfair to bid on them, but they were also usually more entertaining to watch. Gojo’s got a sick feeling to his stomach as the strippers clear the ring.

“Hey,” Gojo calls out, grabbing Danny by the back of his collar and dragging him towards him and away from the girls stepping down onto the floor, “what’s in for this fight?”

Danny glances up at the ceiling. “Tarp’s bettin’ tonight, so it can’t be anything less than ten grand for you. I’d say tops fifteen?”

Gojo narrows his eyes further, then glances off into the ring again. The man stands up, and Gojo gets a better look on his face. He’s got short hair, neon green in color with a dark fade underneath and tattoos all over his face. But those eyes. They were freakishingly red, and it made him uneasy. He knows the type. The type of boxers that do this to genuinely hurt people for thrill. Make no mistake, Gojo understands he’s made himself out to be like that too, gaining some kind of rush out of this profession, but this type of fighter was different. The type to literally continue smashing a dude’s face into the floor until they’re a bloody mess even minutes after the winning call, and no referee to stop it because that’s the kind of action the spectators wanted.

Danny reads his line of sight. “That’s Gale. Newton’s new boxing toy. Came outta nowhere about a month ago. He’s undefeated so far in his district, and Newton specifically wanted to see you up against him tonight,” Danny tells Gojo, resting his elbow up on his bare shoulder. “Chances are he’ll compete with Tarp for final bid if you win this one. I’m talking twenty-five grand in the next if you can knock him out in this.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo acknowledges, rolling his shoulder so Danny’s elbow falls from it. Forget the money, he just wants to make it out of this alive.

He sets his foot up on the square, ducking through the dividing boundary straps and the tacky caution construction tape that the gym thinks creates an exciting ambience. He hears the static of the speakers as the announcers call out Gojo’s name, then this other guy, loud bass club music booming through Gojo’s chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths through the thick air of this low-ceiling arena. 

The dim overhead lights flickered, casting shadows over the makeshift ring, and the crowd pressed tight around at every perimeter area, yelling and pushing, one even tosses a beer bottle on the square and it shatters, spreading glass all across, a few shards reaching Gojo’s feet and he looks down at them with a shudder. A fight immediately breaks out in the crowd over something related or possibly entirely unrelated, and he’d have no way of knowing as he swipes the shards away with his heel.

The influential men always sat up on higher seating, off towards the back in their own VIP section where they suck in the smoke of fat cigarettes and peer through 100% tinted sunglasses to assess the boxers they’ve bid thousands on. The light reflects off the golden grills of their teeth with every snarl at any passerby that gets too close, like a lion in its den. That’s what the sanction was called. Lion’s den.

Gojo sighed, eyeing the twisted grin of this Gale guy across from him. Was that his real name? Usually, foreign district guys get nicknames. Gojo’s always thought the nicknames were tacky, and he’s accumulated some of his own over the years, but to his ears, none of them ever really landed, although The White Fox admittedly was kinda nice. Reminded him of throwback shooting games. 

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, holding his hands up in front of his chest in weak fists, storing energy in them in the form of pure anticipation alone, and then the bell rang.

His opponent lunged towards him immediately, fists flying in a barrage of reckless strikes, and Gojo’s eyes momentarily widened in the briefest moments of hesitation he had been allowed before ducking and dodging every one of this guy's shots, then jumping a step back to create distance.

Fuck. He was fast. Not just boxer fast, athlete fast. There was a difference. And it wasn’t a good one to be up against.

Gojo picked up light on his feet. He couldn’t win this one fast, that much was certain. One single careless or reckless move, and he’ll get tackled. He knows that by the malicious look he sees on that guy’s face, grin wide like he’s some cannibalistic beast. 

Stepping back towards the center, Gojo purposefully set himself up for Gale to swipe a vicious hook towards his head, before Gojo last minute ducked down, crouched to the floor, and swung his leg out to knock the guy off balance by his ankles, and he falls onto his back with a loud thud!

There’s a moment of momentary silence from the crowd, right before Gojo put the man in a torso-lock, twisting him in a way a human body should absolutely not be twisted, hearing the grunts of pain and the crack of spine even through the shouts of the crowd.

He can hear it. Kill him! Knock his fucking teeth out! Snap his neck like a goose, man! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM!

He feels like throwing up. 

Gojo looks up at the referee, who wasn’t really a referee, just there to run the clock when there was action and only barely stop it before near death. “This is enough, right?” he asks.

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

Gojo lets go of his opponent, leaving him there to heave for a moment before he gets up onto his feet again. Just needs one more, and he’s a winner. Ten grand in his pocket, and he won’t have to come back here for a couple weeks.

Gale gets up, swiping at the spit that had trickled out the corner of his mouth down to his chin, and he had an enraged look on his face. The second the bell rang for the second round, he exploded forward towards Gojo with even more fervor than before, gritted expression with a thirst for violence fueling the storm of punches he was throwing towards Gojo but he tried to remain calm, light on his feet, swiftly duck and avoid before he can find another opportunity to clear a sharp, clean jab right to the ribs—

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

Gojo misses his strike, leaving his guard wide open, and Gale takes the opportunity to land a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending his mouth guard flying straight out of his mouth into the air, and knocking him backwards onto the ground with a thud and then he finds himself staring up at the rusting metal ceiling and a ringing in his ears that almost matches the roar of the crowd.

His head is in a haze, dizzy like where one second could feel like a millennia. He feels a soreness underneath his chin, a pain that radiates to his mouth, and he briefly swipes his tongue over his front teeth to make sure he still has all of them. 

What the fuck was that? That intrusive thought. There’s no intrusive thoughts allowed in life or death situations, not when he was always just one smash to the head away from a permanent concussion. But, fuck, he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking of you. Even when his vision has gone blurry and he should really be weary about what happens next in this ring, his mind’s just thinking about you, at some frat party, tipping back shots of tequila and waiting for a text-back in response to your tipsy ones. Were you even waiting up on him? Have you already passed out on the couch, or were your friends dragging you back to your dorm? Or are you fucking some other dude right now? Has he got his hand up your top, squeezing at you, sleazily feeling you up before spilling beer all down your shirt, and are you kissing him back with the same enthusiasm, your phone now somewhere long slipped between the cushions of the couch and out of sight?

Even though it’s still sore, he tenses his jaw. Grinds his teeth, even. Tasting blood somewhere along the line of his gums, he realizes his lip is split. He licks at it, the flavor of copper more rich on his tongue, and he clenches his fists tightly. Why’s he thinking of that right now? It just pisses him off, the thought of you with some other dude. Maybe that’s what he needs to win this fight. Spite. Although he’s not sure why the guy across from him at the ring has to pay for it.

He lifts his head up off the ground, and while it felt like years he had been down, a glance at the timer tells him it’s only been a solid four seconds. A solid four seconds that his opponent had to fully charge a lunge towards him with the look of death in his face, raising his elbow up into the air in time with his leap, ready to come straight down, and Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight above him from where he’s still lying on the wood.

“Shit—” he cusses, rolling his body over to the side so that the dude falls straight down onto the floor rather than elbow Gojo in the fucking ribs, and then he gets back up on his feet. 

Stakes were high, he has to end this, he has to end this now, and he flexes the muscle in his right bicep, channeling everything he has into this one blow, and before Gale even really has a chance to turn around and face him again, Gojo’s already three-fourths set up a knockout undercut that he drives straight up the guy’s chin, with so much force it has him lifting up off the floor, a vertebrate stretch to his spine before he’s sent flying backwards and slammed against the tight rubber lining of the ring to where he was half hanging over it.

The room fell silent for a split second, then erupted in a roar as the referee fell to one knee beside Gale, checking him for any semblance of consciousness, and when he found none, he waves the match off. 

Gojo’s eyes flit up towards the lion’s den, the only opinions that he really needed to care about were sitting in those mahogany chairs with glasses of scotch swirling around in their hands, and he sees some of them looking straight at Gojo before leaning towards one another and discretely talking about something he can’t make out because he doesn’t know how to read lips.

He feels someone tug at his arms from behind, pulling him to crouch down and he balances back on the balls of his feet. He glances down through the ring at the floor. Danny was leaning against the wooden surface of it. “Dude. Go.” He jerks his head towards Gale, who still laid there sprawled across the now stretched out rubber perimeter bands. “Go fuck him up. Knock a few more teeth out, I don’t know, get some more blood out of him.”

“What?” Gojo huffs, yanking his arm away from Danny’s grip. “The fuck are you saying?”

“I told you, man, Newton’s here and he’s got his eye on you. Go give him a show,” Danny says, “do it.” And when he sees clear frustration on Gojo’s face he sighs. “Twenty-five grand, consider that, will you?”

Gojo sneers at the man, an awful taste in his mouth as he spits blood towards Danny’s feet. “Go fuck yourself on his cock if he wants a show that bad.” And then he ducks underneath the bands and hops back down onto the floor, pushing past people who were trying to grab at him and pull at him and lift him up and even throw him down until he made it through flashing hallways and back to the locker room.

He shuts the door behind him, sliding the bolt lock into the frame so no one can follow him inside, and then he leans his weight back against the chilling steel before tipping his head back until it hits the surface too.

He lets out of a few deep breaths, then stares down at the sting he finds over his knuckles. Red and blistering from the last punch he delivered, and he’s almost certain he broke a bone in his hand. Fuck. It was bleeding across the cuts, too. He had to figure out a way to get it all healed by tomorrow, as if that was humanly possible, just because he doesn’t want Yuuji questioning him about it.

Yuuji. For fucks sake, when has he ever thought about the kid this much? When has he ever thought about much of anything when he’s out here or in the ring? He’s a babysitter by day. He’s a “part” of your family when the sun is up and normal functioning society is breathing their lives into the clean air. That’s it. He’s no five-year-old’s caretaker in front of all these primetime drug lords, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of you when facing big, burly men he’s aiming to rough up, all within the dead hours of night. So then how come these thoughts are on his mind at all times, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?

He heads further into the locker room, glancing down at the bench where he’d left his phone, then picks it up, neck craned all the way down to glance at the screen as he holds his phone by his hip because he doesn’t have any energy to pick it up any further towards his eyesight. 

He sees your messages. You never sent any follow-up ones, just your horrendously typed out sonetimes, i thikn of when u kisse me *kissed me across the span of four texts, and Gojo runs a tired hand down his face.

He tips his head back to groan at the ceiling, guttural with no basis other than a release of all the pent up frustration of every sort, then he types in a couple messages to you,

3:23am Gojo Satoru: That’s nice 3:24am Gojo Satoru: I think about fucking you all the time 

—and then tosses his phone into his duffel bag to call it a night.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You’re awoken to your alarm blaring heavily, and you whack your arm across your nightstand table beside your tiny twin-size bed to hit the snooze button, then rub your eye with a loose fist while smacking at the residual taste of alcohol you have on your tongue. 

“Mm…” you mumble to yourself. And then the thirst hits you. The overwhelming, intense, unquenchable thirst that leaves your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert before you grab your twice-dented Hydroflask from the nightstand, twist the cap off and chug about twenty ounces of water in one breath. 

You let out a deep exhale and fall back into bed, your hand resting on top of your water-filled tummy, and you stare up at the ceiling of your dorm. 

Last night was horrible. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to that frat party, especially given you have an exam in—you checked the time on your phone—about an hour, and an hour was not enough time to recover from the raging hangover headache that’s pounding through your head. But your roommates insisted you went, and so go you did. You never knew what to expect, always torn between shaving your pussy before you go or throwing on a stained pair of sweatpants to keep the guys away instead. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. But last night, you ended up drinking more than you usually do, and that always led to poor, poor, poor decisions, in which all the sense of pride you had in yourself was washed down with the puke that you hurled into the upstairs toilet. 

You grab at your phone again, briefly seeing that your friends had sent you some photos from the night. You immediately swiped off to the side to dismiss the notifications, because as far as you were concerned, you never wanted to see those photos in your life.

And then, in the briefest of moments, you saw a familiar name in your notifications that made you heart skip a beat.

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

With an immediate gasp, you pulled your phone to your chest and held it there, blinking up at the pale yellow ceiling, your heart picking up in rhythm.

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

Mortified was an understatement, possibly because you don’t even remember what you said, and so you don’t even want to see what he replied with.

You groan, rubbing both your hands across your face then kick your sheets back with your feet like a child having a temper tantrum because you were so embarrassed you had even texted him at all last night. I mean, he was hot. A little older than you, really gorgeous eyes, tall, and, yeah, you gave him shit for the Instagram muscles thing, but that’s only because you thought he’d find it cheeky that you were trying to humble him despite the fact that he’s more toned and ruggedly sculpted than any other man you’ve ever met. You didn’t want to have a flustered schoolgirl attitude because it would just seep through to his ego.

In any case, he was hot, there was no denying it, so can you really blame yourself? But still. There was collateral with this. You had to see him every other weekend. He knows your family, even your extended since they invited him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple weeks ago. A high-risque drunk text recipient if he ever was one (of course he has been, look at that face). Why couldn’t you have just drunk texted ECON160 guy from last semester who Clit DJ’d you underneath your desk at the back of the lecture hall instead?

The thing that made you nervous about Gojo Satoru was that he was just so…confident? Like, in that I was raised to be this way confident and not that I fought inner demons my whole life to barely end up this way confident, y’know? Never had to fake it ‘til he made it, he just was. At least that was the kind of energy you got from him, and unfortunately for you, it was nerve wracking but enticing all at the same time.

You sigh. “Stupid. Stupid. Stuuuuuupiiiiidddddddddddd. You. Are. So. Stuuuuuupiiiiddddddd,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair to grip at the strands.

You pull your phone away from your chest, and finally brave yourself to read the texts from your notifications screen, but not without blurring your vision a little to further stall. And then you finally refocus it to read them. The first one you see has you gasping—

3:24am Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter): I think about fucking you all the time 

It has heat spreading across your cheeks, and you blink at your screen, then quickly swipe up to read the previous messages with rushed glides of your index finger on the screen to see that he had sent it to you in response to your barely coherent texts about how you still so often think about that time he randomly pressed you up against the door of your bedroom to kiss you that night you first met him.

I think about fucking you all the time

At 3 in the morning? He decided to send that text at 3 in the fucking morning? That was the devil’s hour. What’s he trying to tell you? 

Oh come on, you’re not stupid. And you know he isn’t either. The sexual tension was palpable, it was there since the day you two met and you almost stabbed him, and also everytime you were visiting the house, and his shoulder brushes against yours when he’s trying to get past you in the kitchen, or when you’ve got Yuuji in your arms and the kid is clinging to Gojo’s sleeve because he wants him near him at all times. There’s even sexual tension over the phone, in those stupid texts he sends you all the time about meaningless child care stuff, and honestly, those little updates made your day.

But… you don’t know much about him, and your mom would kill you if she ever found out you wanted him. And she’d probably pulverize him if she found out he ever made a move on you. Cremated without leaving a trace behind would be an understatement. She thinks he’s no good and she thinks you’re too good. You know she’s warned him before to not get close to you, as if she was pre-emptively expecting him to try to get in your pants like it was some canon force of the universe, hence why he’s probably so fucking awkward around you whenever she’s there too. Like if he accidentally got caught staring at your ankles, your mom would light him on fire, so he’d rather not risk it by just avoiding looking at you at all.

Your mom has always been protective of you. Your father was a deadbeat, one she thought she loved, only to watch him leave. And she had to raise a baby all by herself. He re-entered your lives right before you graduated high school, knocked up your mom again with Yuuji, and guess what? Left again without a trace. To be doubly humiliated by a man is a fate you wouldn’t wish on any woman, but that’s exactly what your mom went through. It was a wake-up call for her, though. No more living paycheck to paycheck like you had been your whole lives up until Yuuji was born. The kid doesn’t even know how lucky he is with everything he has right now. Your mom worked her way up the corporate ladder and made something of herself and now you guys were comfortable, so it was safe to say she had some sort of right to look after her daughter, of whom she simply doesn’t want to follow in the same naive footsteps of her youth.

You get it. She wants to break the generational cycle. But it made being with men tough on all fronts, let alone dating. You could never bring a guy home because he’d never be enough, even if he cured cancer or could make you orgasm while doing a sixty-nine handstand. And while her overbearing paranoia over what you do or where you are or who you’re with has since dimmed slightly since you officially moved out to finish your last year of higher education at NYU, you can still feel her disappointment from a hundred miles away when you’re making out with some random frat guy on his beer-stained couch at eleven AM on a Tuesday.

But you got to college. You’ve already made it this far. You’re on dean’s list. You graduated high school as salutatorian. You’re the most highly decorated cello player in the state. You won Miss County pageant when you were sixteen for your philanthropic efforts towards feline leukemia. You did online community college for three years so you could stick back after high school and help your mom raise Yuuji, which meant that you had to forfeit your scholarship to Cornell. You’ve spent your whole life being good, you just wanna be bad for a little bit.

And if bad meant fucking the hot and mysterious babysitter, then so be it. 

You pick your phone up, begin blasting what the hell by Avril Lavigne on your dorm room bluetooth speaker, then type a message to him that says—

10:34am you: do it then

—then shove your phone under the sheets and belt out the lyrics aaaall my life i’ve been good, but now, ahhhh i’m thinkin’ what the hell!!! while kicking your feet and clutching your pillow.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gojo has no clue what divine entity has overcast their gratuitous spirit over him on this blessed Monday afternoon, but he’ll thank them for it later once his balls are empty. 

He’s got you on your back, sprawled across the couch in the living room, the first fuck being a rushed one that you offered him with before he has to go pick Yuuji up from circle time at preschool, which wasn’t ideal, but he’s delirious at the sight of you underneath him right now. Your little NYU shirt, a tighter one this time, bunched up over your bare breasts, otherwise entirely naked other than the flimsy panties dangling at your ankle, and the view of the tip of his cock looking hot and heavy against the velvet of your cunt, slowly pushing in, feeling the warmth of your walls squeeze around him paired with the sweet moan that leaves your lips, makes him fall forward with a bracing hand dug into the cushion by the side of your head because the sensation feels so fucking good he can hardly keep himself upright.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pushing himself in further to try and bottom out but he’s still got a couple inches he needs you to take, and so you curl your hips upwards towards the cieling to make more room for him, practically putting yourself into a mating press and soon enough he’s balls deep, “you on any birth control?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, eyes closed and head tipped back with one hand squeezing your own tit.

“I can cum inside then, yeah?” he asks you, pushing your knees to your chest, slowly drawing his hips back and you squirm underneath him.

“Let’s get there first, and then we’ll discuss,” you breathe out.

“I’ve been there for the past ten minutes, baby. I could cum at any second with the way you look and feel,” he informs you flatly, because it was just the truth and you had to know it, then he feels himself twitch inside, slowly working up to a languid rhythm, almost fearfully like your mom’s going to pop out somewhere around the corner with a camera crew ready like one of those retro TV shows just to humiliate him on national television for not keeping it in his pants like she’d told him to. 

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue. 

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you. 

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.” 

“I see,” your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough. 

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad. 

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you. 

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest. 

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.   

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him. 

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking. 

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

➸ masterlist

taglist:

@joemama-2 @erencvlt @pickuptruck01 @hanakotateyama @nuronhe

@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

@sirencholia @sorcerersseestars @horisdope @to-dabi @staoru

@aliidarling @ninjaturtletoes @lavender-hvze @lanadelreylover11 @chckn-pi

@satoryaa @gojodickbig @v4mpieres @reinam00n @sleepyyammy

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@verystrawberryhottub @iheartshopping @peonysfordayz @dreamsxmerci @aishies-stuff

@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

[lordsukunas]

piggyback rides

synop: you want trueform!sukuna to give you a piggyback ride and he doesn’t know what it is. that’s it.

tags: fluffy fluff fluff, fem!reader (referred as woman once, refers to self as ‘queen’ and ‘wife’ once), ooc sukuna (only bc he’s less of an asshole), possessive behavior (kind of?), mentions of sukuna-typical violence, likely historically inaccurate, not proofread. i couldn’t determine whether or not he was actually wearing a haori or something similar - correct me if i’m wrong n i’ll change it!

notes: basic ass title ik... erm sorry! another post in two days is a miracle so i’m a little proud of myself. half-assed ending lol... anyway, this is just a silly lil drabble!! any interaction is much appreciated, enjoyyyy! :3

“what.”

the first set of crimson eyes dart down to look at you, the other set still tracking the scuttling servants. you’re situated quite snugly in his expansive lap — two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest. “what the hell is that?”

you nibble the inside of your cheek to suppress a smirk. finally, you know something that sukuna does not! and it only took three years. “it’s where i get on your back and you carry me around. quite simple, truthfully.”

he snorts at the slight condescension in your voice. for something so agitating, you have quite the ego. “mm. and why should i do that for you? you can walk on your own, unless your legs are mysteriously broken all of a sudden.”

“because,” you say with a huff, “it’s fun. don’t you want to bond with your queen?”

anxious eyes of passing maids sneak glances at you, your little huff drawing their attention. sukuna shifts you in his lap, turning you to the side, and the massive sleeve of his robe moves to obscure your form from their undeserving gaze. “we have bonded enough.”

“and it would not hurt to bond some more!” you counter. sukuna’s stubbornness is something you absolutely adore about him, but not right now. “can the mighty king of curses not spare a moment of his day to entertain his wife’s wish?”

he falls silent at this, and you can practically see the gears churning in his big head. he’ll cave. if there’s one thing that’s undeniable about the sorcerer, it’s his curiosity.

“... fine,” he grunts. after scooping you up and setting you down, he stands up and gestures with his hand. “so how do we do it?”

your lips curve up into a smirk. “okay, turn around so that your back is facing me.”

sukuna turns around, folding one pair of arms over his chest.

“then, crouch down a little.”

a beat passes, and then he crouches down, back muscles flexing underneath the dark fabric of his haori.

you step up behind him and slide your arms around his neck. his adam’s apple bobs, and the other arms move to cradle your butt. “if this is an attempt to choke me, it isn’t work.”

he always thinks someone’s out to get him. you roll your eyes. “no. if i wanted to kill you, i likely would’ve attempted forever ago.” you lift your lower half onto the lower part of his back, and your legs wrap around his hips.

another beat passes. “is that it?”

“yep.”

sukuna adjusts you, his hold on you becoming more secure as he rights himself to his full height. the warmth of your breath ghosts across his ear, and he can smell the scented lotion you applied this morning.

why hadn’t he done this before?

“soooooo,” you drawl, and he can hear the smile in your beautiful voice without even having to look. you’re so close — he hears the little inhale before you speak, the nearly imperceptible huff of laughter once you finish. “what are you just standing here for? we gotta walk around, explore the estate! it’s not fun if we’re just stuck in one place.”

“i am not a servant,” he warns, voice gruff, but he starts to move towards the throne room’s exit anyway. anyone unfortunate enough bows, mutters a jumbled greeting to the both of you, and scrambles out of the way.

it’s no secret that sukuna is more... benevolent, when you’re around. but that is a double-edged sword — if someone dares to disturb your peace or inconvenience you in his presence, they’d be facing a swift death, along with their parents for giving birth to such vermin.

“apologies, my spectacular husband.” you lean forward a bit and press a kiss onto his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick stain. “now, please, venture forth.”

he rolls his eyes. “if you command me again, woman, i am going to sprint.”

the teasing lilt quickly disappears from your voice, and your arms tighten around his neck. “n-no, that isn’t necessary.”

sukuna’s pace increases, now a brisk jog instead of a leisure walk, and you can hear the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “oh? is it not?”

“it isn’t!” you squeak. a little embarrassing, yes, but you know how fast sukuna is — you’re positive that if he broke out into a full-speed run, you’d be sick by the end of it.

“let’s find out and see.”

[six-of-cringe]

hello yes i am Seeing i am Looking and i am Envying how succinctly you sum up what took paragraphs for my loquacious ass to get around to

kaz and wylan are very much foils, and while much has been said about their similarities and how their stories parallel each other, it’s also worth noting that while kaz gives up his rietveld identity to survive in the barrel, wylan clings to what makes him wylan throughout his time in the barrel. when kaz loses everything, he throws away goodness and honesty; when wylan loses everything, he clings to goodness and honesty because it’s all he has left. they have fundamentally different backgrounds which obviously influence their choices and outlooks on life, but it’s interesting nonetheless!

[zerocoded]

summary: when caleb appears at your front door on a random thursday night after faking his death for weeks, you can't help but want to punch him straight in the knees. luckyly for you, you do just that.

authors note: this beautiful drawing that i'm using in the banner is from this lovely artist, credits to them! go check their x account ♡ ANYWAYS, the caleb post i've been daydreaming about the last two days is finally here. CALEB GIRLIES I GOT YOU. let's hold each other's hands until the 22nd comes. i hope i succeed in portraying a real mc bc i'm tired of seeing us being just happy when seeing caleb for the first time when BRO DECEIVED US and played with our emotions like that. without further bs, live laugh love caleb.

warnings: SLIGHT yandere!caleb • gaslighting and manipulation • sfw content • bad writing lol, be warned! • depressive thoughts • reader is on her grieving period • work exhaustion • mental illness mentioned • minor injury • manhandling and pining • height & size difference • caleb literally invades our home • fighting bc reader is a badass and tolerates no bitches • mc bites caleb's hands lol • others LI mentioned • one kissy scene hehe • caleb screams at mc once (boo) • ANGST Y'ALL!

word count: 6.1k

you're here┃caleb uses you as hostage at the farspace fleet┃you punch caleb in the face┃caleb teaches you his love language

your apartment was silent, except for the faint hum of the city outside. tossing your jacket onto the back of the couch, you leaned against the wall, exhaling shakily. the weight of the day pressed down on you like a vice, your fingers brushing the edge of the message from linkon city hall still lying unopened on the counter.

confirmation of deceased: caleb. adoptive grandmother, dr. josephine. cause of death: explosion – classified incident.

you hadn’t needed to open it. the words were already carved into your memory, and the weight of them had crushed you all day. it didn’t matter that the explosion was months ago—seeing their names on an official report felt like losing them all over again.

you pushed away from the counter, willing your mind to focus on anything else. the hunter uniform hugged your frame perfectly, as it always had, and your reflection in the glass windows of your living room showed how tired you looked.

did anyone notice how wrecked you felt? you wondered if tara had gossiped to the other hunters about your predicament, and if she had left you alone because she somehow understood the weight of what had happened to you.

the message was awful. being asked to confirm the deaths of your loved ones had thrown you into a depressive spiral you hadn’t felt in days after returning from the N109 zone. your troublesome heart sometimes made you feel like you shouldn’t have even been born. when you trauma-dumped this on rafayel a few days ago, he had almost hit you with his paint brush, the words coming out of your mouth too much for him to process. the painter was pissed that you could think of yourself like that.

but that was how you felt—unworthy of being alive, because the person who raised you had been brutally killed.

why not me? you wondered.

linkon city was adorned with shiny skyscrapers, and your privileged view of the city made you feel even smaller, your grievance nothing more than a joke to the world outside of your apartment. knowing you’d have to show up to work again tomorrow added to the weight pressing down on your shoulders from choosing to be a deepspace hunter.

these last few weeks, you had questioned why you chose this job in the first place. since coming back from onychinus and befriending sylus of all people, you’d been thinking about your life decisions more frequently. sylus made you question every little thing you had once thought was a virtue, which now seemed like selfishness in disguise.

the man was good at disturbing your thoughts and making you feel things that put you on the spot.

you became a deepspace hunter because you were selfish. you wanted to make a difference, like the people you grew up with had made.

you wanted to be smart like zayne and attentive like josephine. you wanted to be helpful like caleb and as notorious as your other anhaunsen classmates. you wanted to do anything to escape the feeling you’d had since birth—uselessness.

as you sank deep into the living room cushions and exhaled heavily into the lonely air of your apartment, your phone buzzed with a text from zayne.

fate was joking with you today.

are you okay?, it read.

his worry made your heart flutter a little before sadness took over your entire form again.

you didn’t have the heart to respond. lying required more strength than you had in that moment, so you tossed your phone onto the center table and ignored him.

i’m sorry, zayne, i wish i was stronger for you.

your stomach rumbled, and your ribs ached. earlier in the evening, you had let a wanderer get too close before killing it, distracted as you were. the mistake had left you with a swollen rib and a deep sense of shame. you’d promised to take care of it when you got home, but right now, all you could do was discard a few of your sharp weapons onto the floor before dozing off on the couch.

you’d probably hate yourself in the morning for sleeping with these tight boots on.

for you, the hardest part wasn’t the silence left behind. it wasn’t the way the world seemed to keep spinning while yours had shattered. the hardest part was feeling like you needed to smile, to nod politely when people said, “stay strong,” as if strength could stitch together the pieces of your broken heart.

the hardest part was the way people looked at you, expecting you to move forward, to let the memories be enough. but how could you, when the smell of smoke still haunted your nightmares, when you could still hear caleb’s laughter drowned by the deafening roar of the explosion? how could you heal when your soul was still bleeding, the wounds too fresh, the pain still pouring out with every breath you tried to take?

you loved him so much it hurt. you wish you’d told him more times. why didn’t you told him more times?

how could you move forward when you still couldn’t clench your fists as strong as you were accustomed to because you were thrown into the air and broke both of them at the incident?

you wondered if it would ever be enough, and if someday you’d find out who was responsible for all of this pain.

the kitchen candles were the only light in the room when you heard the doorbell ring. sharp and sudden, it cut through the haze and fought off your sleepiness in a second, your hunter’s bells ringing warningly.

your heart jumped, and your hand instinctively went to your side where your pistol usually rested, only to find it absent. you’d left it in your locker at the deepspace headquarters, thinking you wouldn’t need it tonight.

the bell rang again, more insistent this time.

“probably xavier,” you muttered, trying to shake off the lingering unease. your neighbor and cute colleague had been away on a special mission as a hunter. his absence had started to feel noticeable in the quiet moments.

you liked spending time with xavier because he seemed to understand you on another level. he never seemed to expect anything from you, which made grieving next to him a little less daunting. you missed his midnight visits and occasional talks about claw machines and stupid wanderers, and you wished he would respond to your texts asking when he was coming back.

you felt like it would be nice to hear his voice right now.

without thinking much, you unlocked the door, combat boots still on and dark circles framing your usually bright eyes.

“took you long enough—”

the words died on your lips.

it wasn’t xavier.

standing in your doorway, dressed in a pristine daa military uniform, was a man—ridiculously intimidating and strange. he looked at you with judgment and arrogance, making you step back a little and guard more of yourself.

thank god you still had your uniform on and wasn’t wearing some flimsy nightgown. the man seemed to be eating you alive in his head.

before you had the chance to question the stranger’s presence at your door on this random thursday night, he tossed you aside and pressed you against the corridor wall of your kitchen, your breath instantly hitched and your ribs ached from the impact.

your hunter’s awareness triggered instantly, instincts flaring and mind still trying to process what the hell was going on. your hands struggled against his grip, desperately searching for an evol to resonate with. if your mind had already been spiraling out of control before, now you felt like you could fight a thousand wanderers at once and focus on surviving with mere instinct.

you couldn’t scream. his right hand clamped over your mouth, his left gripping both your wrists in front of your chest and preventing you from punching him like you planned to. somehow, this was a professional individual who knew your fighting mannerisms and wrestling tendencies by heart.

with great effort, you managed to bite his hand that was closest to your mouth and heard his pained grunt right after. you swore you heard him cussing before his head raised and his eyes finally met yours.

your heart stopped. the world narrowed to the faint outline of his silhouette as you finally were able to look at his face. his hair was concealed beneath a presumptuous cap, the daa symbol shining bright at its center. black, red, and gold adorned the uniform of the unknown man who handled your body as if it were weightless, plastic.

you thrashed and twisted in his grip until he was forced to pin both your hands above your head, hissing when you managed to land a kick on his right knee. the door clicked shut beside you as he silenced your attempted scream with his hand again.

amethystine eyes stared back at you, thick brows furrowed as your gazes locked. chills ran down your spine. your hunter uniform pressed uncomfortably against the wall, your combat boots barely touching the floor. yet, despite your effort, he towered over you.

you wanted to cry.

the hidden freckles were the first clue your mind was playing tricks on you, the shape of his mouth the second, and his skin tone the third. countless times since the explosion, you’d dreamed of caleb’s touch—more nights than you could count. but as the weight of the day bore down on you, your fighting spirit waned, the initial rush of adrenaline fading as you stared into his eyes.

everything felt cruelly unfair.

his gaze was uncharacteristically hard as he watched you, his bruising grip on your mouth and wrists warming for a moment before you snapped out of your daze.

a smirk made way to his lips and his stupidly manly perfume set itself on your senses. another attempt at kicking him made him press himself further into you, ribs screaming from the pressure. if he noticed your pained expression, he didn’t mention it at all.

“caleb,” you whispered, the name barely audible. your voice cracked, your body frozen in place, your mind unable to reconcile the impossible reality before you.

he didn’t seem to hear you, but his hand left your mouth, his gaze sweeping over your body and his face so close to yours you could count his naturally defined lashes.

the tension between you two shifted as he eyed you closer, curious eyes landing on your pretty figure. he could swear for a moment you wouldn’t recognize him and that thought perturbed his mind for the next few seconds he allowed himself to bask in your beauty.

caleb was familiar with the sight of you in the hunter’s association uniform, but never had he seen you looking this wrecked.

in the weeks leading up to the explosion, he’d promised himself he’d never let you get hurt by ever ever again. now, seeing you like this, he wondered if things looked different from your perspective.

would you hate him?

would you hate him for the decisions he made? for the people he deceived and the families he destroyed? for the secrets he exposed so he could be at advantage and fight for you from a more privileged position?

would you hate him for wanting you all to himself and sharing the same fate as him as a human experiment? for wanting to take you to the ever base and expose you to everyone right before killing them? for being the demise of your life but still wanting to keep you as close as possible?

would you still love him after he told you all of the wrongings he did to make things right for you and him?, he wondered.

the look in your eyes told him no, and because of that, his grip on your pinned hands loosened, the silence between you two remaining charged with tension. he saw the exact moment reality crashed down on you. your gaze faltered, and for a moment, you looked like you were going to cry.

he would hate to see you cry because of him, even though deep down he knew how lovely you looked while pouring your eyes out. he have seen it a thousand times before. caleb wanted to make you cry in other circumstances, not right now.

his lips pressed into a forced smile, and your breath hitched as his eyes shone faintly in the dim light of the kitchen candles. though the light wasn’t very effective, the touch of his gloved hand was enough to confirm the truth: this wasn’t a fucking stranger.

caleb felt when you stopped fighting and caved into his touch, scared to death. he let go of your mouth and stared right at your lips.

“no,” you muttered, shaking your head as if to clear a hallucination. your hands remained bound, your feet still searching for the floor. “this can’t be true.”

he tilted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “it’s me.” his voice was calm, too familiar, too real. too cruel.

your body trembled with his tone, his breath fanning on your cheeks while your eyes scanned his. it felt wrong to say anything at the moment, fear still there in your eyes.

your body snapped into action, reality slamming into you like a tidal wave. you raised your knee, aiming to knock him off balance, desperate to banish the ghost standing in your kitchen.

but the colonel moved faster.

his hand shot out, catching your leg with unnerving precision. before you could react, he hoisted you over his shoulder effortlessly.

you stumbled, panic surging through your veins. your instincts screamed at you to fight, to move, to do something.

“let me go” you demanded, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and fury, punching his back in a futile attempt to stop him. “who are you? who sent you?”

“i came to see you,” he said simply, his voice steady and unnervingly calm. his eyes darted around the apartment, scanning every corner like a predator assessing its prey. “you didn’t think i’d stay away forever, did you?”

why did he sound so smug and heartless? it pissed you off.

realization set heavy on your shoulders—did he... did he fake his own death?

“you’re a fucking asshole.” you didn’t care that this man was more than six feet tall or that he wore a military uniform of all things, you kicked and screamed as much as you could after he threw you onto the couch—the very place you’d landed earlier that evening.

the moment he released you, you inched toward the center table where your spare weapon was stashed.

caleb’s smile faltered, replaced by something darker. his voice dropped, softer but laced with unsettling intensity. “i hope you cooperate from now on, pipsqueak.”

the words sent a chill down your spine.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” you spat, pistol in hand, ready to aim.

his gaze flicked to your movement, and before you could react, he was there. his hand closed around your wrist, pinning it to the couch with a force that made you gasp.

“you’re not going to hurt me, pipsqueak,” he murmured, his tone almost teasing, though the intensity in his purple eyes told a different story. “i’d never hurt you. you know that.”

you struggled against his grip, your heart pounding as fear twisted into anger. “let me go, caleb.”

“not until you listen,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “will you stop fighting and thrashing around? i need to see if you are ready”

“ready for what?” you spat, your voice trembling with rage.

“for us,” he said simply, his tone calm, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

your breath hitched as his words sank in, the weight of them pressing down on you like a storm. “what the hell is ‘us’? you died. i watched you fucking die, asshole.”

he leaned closer, his forehead almost brushing yours, his voice a low whisper. “and i came back—for you.”

the weight of his presence, his words, was suffocating. for a moment, you froze, your mind racing for a way out.

it sounded so intimate, so romantically unsettling having him above you and saying things that made your heart clench. you hoped the hurt in your eyes was visible to the man. you hoped he still had sympathy and felt guilt somewhere underneath that uniform.

caleb stepped back, releasing your wrist but still blocking your path, his expression softening slightly as he examined you. “i need you to be quiet until i can tell you everything.”

“who do you think you are? you filthy liar”. 

caleb’s gaze flickered as your words hung between you, unspoken accusations slicing through the air like shards of glass. he shifted his weight, his broad frame now more a shadow than a presence in the dim room. for a moment, it seemed like he might say something—anything—but instead, he exhaled, a quiet sound that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies.

"you look as pretty as always, princess", his whisper reached your ears and you felt a wave of anger wash over you.

"i don't know what you did to caleb, but right now is not the time for games". you spat the words with disgust.

"you think you know anything?" he asked, voice low but steady. his eyes, catching the faint glow of the candlelight, held yours. he looked scary above you. 

"you think that you are right?," you bit back, the ache in your ribs forgotten under the pressure of the moment. "faking a death isn’t something i take lightly in my books”.

his jaw tightened, the faintest tremor in his hand betraying him as he sighed. the silence stretched again, taut and heavy, before he finally spoke. “trust me to take care of you as i always did, pipsqueak, i just need more cooperation from you this time. i needed to do that so I could've gotten rid of josephine”.

the vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, stealing whatever biting retort was forming on your tongue. you searched his face, the faint scars etched into his skin, the weariness in his eyes. "what the fuck did you just say?" you said softly, your voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady. 

caleb’s expression shifted as he saw the tense tone of your voice, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. regret? anger? it was gone too fast to tell. "i said what i said," he replied, his tone measured, almost calm—too calm. "josephine was a threat. she had to go, and i handled it and you should put this in your mind and move on."

"you handled it?" the words came out as a growl. the disbelief, the rage, the grief—it all boiled over. "you’re talking about the woman who raised me, caleb. who raised you. and you expect me to just—what—trust that you had your reasons? that it’s fine because you handled it?"

you got up from the sofa and watched him tower over you once again, not being afraid to fight him out of your house this time. you took a step further and watched the surprise on his face mix with a hint of mischief.

"you must have lost your mind, who the fuck sent you here? answer me." you asked, your voice sharper now, frustration spilling over.

he stepped closer, the shadow he cast stretching long across the dim room. his voice dropped, soft but firm, the kind of tone that brooked no argument. "the sooner you accept the truth, the easier all of this will turn out for you. josephine was a loose thread that could put you at harm and, trust me, i won’t let anything or anyone put you at risk."

"shut up," you snapped, your hands shaking as they clenched into fists. "don’t you dare put this on her. don’t you dare tell me you did this for me." you pushed him with force until he stumbled back a little, eyes on you the entire time. still, he didn’t react. so you pushed yourself past him, pacing to the other side of the room as if distance could lessen the fury building inside you. "you’re out of your fucking mind if you think i’m going anywhere with you. you—i… i mourned you, caleb".

caleb turned, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze locking onto yours. "you don’t have a choice," he said simply. "if you want a chance of surviving, you’ll accompany me to the farspace fleet so you can prove to me that you are not a threat, this isn’t a quest, Y/N.”

"stop acting like you’re my savior," you shouted, spinning to face him. "you lied to me, faked your death, and now you show up here, in my home, telling me what to do? you’ve lost the right to give me orders, caleb. i don’t have to prove you shit"

his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, something like frustration flashed across his face. "you’re impossible," he muttered, more to himself than to you. “don’t make me take you by force, princess, this is already hard enough for me”.

his presence felt heavier now, more intimidating and more overwhelming. “hear me out on this one, pipsqueak, i can see why you’re upset but here it’s not the right place to talk about this. i promise i’ll explain it later”.

caleb’s gaze didn’t waver, feelings too strong for him to back down.

“you think i trust you wholeheartedly as well? don’t you think i know about what you’re capable to do, what weapon they made you become?”, he questioned, raising more questions about your past to the surface.

you hesitated, your chest heaving as you glared at him, every instinct screaming at you to fight, to run, to do anything but listen.

“you think i don’t know what you’re capable of? you’ve got every right to hate me, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re in danger and i’m the only one who can keep you alive.”

he stepped closer, his boots echoing softly against the tiled kitchen floor, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows that seemed to stretch and twist with your unease. the space between you vanished with every deliberate step he took, and before you realized it, the cool edge of the counter pressed against your back.

“i came here to get you so i can protect you,” he said, his voice softer now, almost tender, though his eyes burned with something far less kind. “won’t you trust me, pipsqueak?”

you swallowed hard, your ribs aching as the tension tightened around you like a vice. the pain flared again on your right side, but you forced it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing your weakness. caleb’s arms came up, caging you between them, his palms braced on the counter on either side of you. his breath was warm against your skin, the faint scent of mossy perfume and something metallic clinging to him.

his amethystine eyes locked onto yours, drawing you in and daring you to look away. “josephine wasn’t innocent,” he murmured, the words deliberate, each one cutting deeper than the last. “she was the only way left they could get to you easily. so i had to get rid of her.”

the shock and fury bubbling in your chest clawed their way to the surface, but before you could lash out, he moved. slowly, deliberately, he raised his hands, his movements calm but weighted with unspoken meaning. his right hand hovered between your bodies as he tugged off his glove, revealing cold, gleaming metal where flesh once was.

your breath hitched, your eyes widening despite yourself. the intricate machinery of his prosthetic glinted dully in the dim light, a jarring contrast to the warmth of his other hand still braced beside you.

“i didn’t get out of there without paying a price,” he continued, his tone dipping lower, the faintest hint of bitterness creeping into his words. “if that makes you feel better.”

the sight of the metal, the weight of his confession, sent your mind reeling. you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the fury that kept you standing, but the cracks in his armor—the familiar of his voice, the faint tremor in his hand—made it harder to breathe.

“turns out i gave them everything they wanted to have even more control over my body,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, studying your reaction like a predator watching prey. “you’re not the only ever victim in this room, princess, don't you see?”

his words hit like a punch to the gut, the nickname twisting something deep inside you. your eyes burned, the sting of unshed tears making your vision blur. compassion clawed its way forward, fighting against the iron grip of your fury.

he leaned closer, his voice softening, wrapping around you like a velvet noose. “don’t you see now? i’m your only way out. only i can make you safe, princess.” his head tilted slightly, his gaze piercing through the layers of anger and fear you’d built around yourself. “why don’t you see it?”

the way he said it—like it was inevitable, like you were foolish for resisting—sent a fresh wave of defiance coursing through you. your fingers twitched at your sides, curling into fists. the tears threatening to spill were not ones of submission but of frustration, of fury that he could twist your pain and vulnerability into leverage.

your hands trembled as you shoved against his chest, trying to create even an inch of space between you. “you’re the danger here, caleb.”

his expression hardened, though the faintest flicker of something else—hurt? regret?—crossed his features. he caught your wrists before you could push him further, his grip firm but not painful, his proximity suffocating.

“i won’t let you go this time,” he said, his voice quieter now, the sharp edge replaced with something closer to desperation. his eyes seemed to ignore every red signal your body emitted. “what are you afraid of, pipsqueak? c'mon, it’s me, caleb”.

the charged silence that followed was unbearable, the tension between you a living, breathing thing. the weight of his words, the intensity in his gaze—it all felt too much, too close, and yet not close enough.

“answer me.”, he demanded, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. “you need me, Y/N.”

you wanted to scream, to shove him back, to wipe that look of control and simmering frustration off his face, but the words stuck in your throat. it wasn’t fear keeping you quiet—it was the truth you didn’t want to admit. the truth you couldn’t admit.

“you don’t get to do this,” you managed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “you don’t get to leave me, fake your death, and then come back like nothing happened. like i’m supposed to just—just fall in line and listen to you.”

his lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. instead, he exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as his grip on your wrists loosened ever so slightly. “i didn’t come back for you to listen,” he said, his tone soft but laced with an edge of frustration. “i came back to make sure you survive. with me.”

“you are crazy” you spat, shaking your head as you finally yanked your hands free from his grasp. “i don't know why you changed so much. you call this survival? being hunted, manipulated, dragged into whatever mess you’ve made? that’s not survival, caleb. that’s hell.”

“didn’t you want answers?!” he snaps, his voice cutting through the charged silence like a whip. his tone is sharp, frustration crackling in the air between you. for a moment, you flinched at his tone. “answers about your past, about granny, about the aether core that lives inside of you?”. he motions for your chest and you lean away from him.

caleb throws his daa hat on the floor and runs his gloved hand over his hair, desperation clinging into his actions. a move you were so used to seeing him doing as a teenager now seemed to paint his figure as someone totally different.

“guess what,” he continues, stepping closer, his boots scraping against the floor as the small space between you shrinks to nothing. “i’m the only one who can give you that.”

your back hits the counter again, the cold surface biting through your shirt as his presence looms over you. his hands grip the edge of the counter on either side of you, boxing you in, and his voice drops lower, quieter, but no less intense. “i know you’ve been looking for the truth. don’t pretend you haven’t. every decision you’ve made, every risk you’ve taken, it’s all been for answers.”

the weight of his words pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, as if the walls of the apartment were closing in. his voice, low and deliberate, carried the kind of certainty that felt like a blade against your resolve. you hated that he knew so much, hated the way his presence seemed to draw out every buried question, every lingering doubt you’d tried so hard to silence.

the truth of it stung more than you wanted to admit. because it was true—wasn’t it? every decision, every desperate move you’d made since josephine’s death had been about finding the missing pieces. about understanding why your life felt like a jigsaw puzzle with crucial parts deliberately torn away.

you grew up with people like zayne and caleb so you’d become the best version of yourself. still, you felt unworthy of everything you have ever achieved.

you were... at a loss of words.

your ribs screamed in pain against the counter, the cold seeping through your shirt and grounding you in the moment. you wanted to push him away, to snap back with something that would shatter the arrogance in his voice. but instead, you found yourself staring at him—really staring—seeing the desperation etched into every line of his face. it wasn’t just his words that rattled you; it was the way his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of something far greater than just your shared past.

you noticed the tremor in his hand, the way it lingered too long on the counter’s edge, as if he were holding himself back from reaching for you. the way his eyes, though sharp and unrelenting, flickered with something almost... pleading.

caleb seemed to be holding himself back—as he always did. this time, though, you were not sure if you wanted him to break and consume you or to let you go and forget the two of you. this was the first time in your life where you felt close enough to the truth, close enough to calm the storm of questions in your mind. still, your grip on your ego seemed to be as tight as ever.

everything felt unfair because you were oh so tired. since onychinus, sylus and the aether core, your mind has been settled into finding answers of questions that were never asked in the first place. you were running in circles and you dreamed every night about how you missed caleb. how you knew he would guide you into the right path if he was alive at the moment.

now that he was here, something felt uncharacteristically right for the first time in weeks.

you need me, he said.

it was a bold statement, a manipulative one, but the worst part was the whisper of doubt it planted in your mind. what if he’s right? what if caleb, with all his possessive behavior, really did have the answers you’d been chasing? could you afford to ignore him—risk losing whatever truth he claimed to hold—just because you didn’t trust him right now? just because his posture changed and his eyes seemed a little darker?

had you the privilege of saying no to him?

you have always been so weak for him, haven't you?

your gaze dropped to his gloved hand, still gripping the counter, then to the hat he’d thrown carelessly onto the floor. there was something raw about the gesture, something that pulled at a part of you you’d long thought buried. it was the same caleb you remembered, the one who’d run his hands through his hair in frustration when things didn’t go his way, but now there was a hardness to him, an edge that made him almost unrecognizable.

he leaned in slightly, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. caleb’s hands cradled your face with an unsettling gentleness, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to memorize every inch of your skin. his breath, warm and steady, fanned over your face, and the proximity made your pulse race despite every instinct screaming at you to pull away.

“do as i say, princess,” he murmured, his voice a mix of honeyed persuasion and steel. “you know deep down that i’m right.”

you hated how easily he saw through you, how his words made your chest tighten with the weight of unspoken truths. but there was a flicker of something else now—a sliver of curiosity, of reluctant consideration.

you stayed in silence.

“you’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, softer, as if the words were meant for no one but you. “what are you afraid of, princess? me?”.

his breath fanned over your cheek, the tension between you felt alive, electric, as if the air itself buzzed with anticipation. caleb’s hands cradled your face with a deliberate slowness, his fingers grazing your jawline like he was afraid you’d shatter under his touch. his thumbs traced lazy circles just below your cheekbones, sending faint shivers rippling down your spine.

caleb was very meticulous about the way he touched you. his words—carved in desperation just for you. he brushed away the tears you were shedding, breath in synch with yours as if he wanted for you to share your burden with him.

his thumb brushed against your skin, warm and steady, the faintest hint of mint and wood lingering in the space between you. the closeness made your pulse quicken, the steady rhythm in your chest now erratic and impossible to ignore. his forehead almost touched yours, his lips dangerously close but not quite there, as if he were savoring the moment, drawing it out until the anticipation was unbearable.

you gripped his forearms, confused at the needy feeling clawing its way out of your chest, the longing for closeness and safety that your brain always seemed to tie with the body in front of you. the tenderness he reserved only for you made your heart flutter despite the cruel truths and harsh words that had passed between you.

“what are you afraid of, princess?” he murmured again, his voice impossibly soft, like a velvet thread weaving its way into your thoughts. “it’s just me.”

the way he said it—low and intimate, like he was speaking to the deepest parts of you—made your knees weak.

his metal hand slid down from your face, the cool pads of his fingers brushing over the curve of your neck and coming to rest lightly on your shoulder. the weight was grounding, steadying, but it also sent sparks racing across your skin. the meaning behind his touch was at odds with the coldness of his prosthetic; it felt like both a tether and a promise.

you wondered if he was using his evol against you, manipulating your emotions, or if it was just your stupid, traitorous heart making you feel like you were floating.

your breaths came shallow and uneven as the tension between you thickened, palpable and inescapable. his gaze flickered to your lips, the intensity in his eyes making your stomach twist with anticipation. you hated how much you noticed the way he leaned closer, the way his presence filled every inch of the space around you, until there was nothing left but him.

“you don’t have to be scared of me,” he said softly, his lips brushing the words into the air between you. “i’d never hurt you.”

the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think of a reason to stop him, he closed the distance.

his lips pressed against yours, slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away. but you didn’t. the kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to decide, waiting to see if you would break the moment or lean into it. and for a heartbeat, you froze, the shock of it rooting you in place.

but the tenderness of his kiss, the way his hand tightened slightly on your shoulder as if to steady himself, drew you in. your fingers curled into his forearms, no longer in protest but in something closer to surrender, the heat of his closeness chasing away the cold air of the room. you felt something stir deep inside you when you felt the dips of his muscles underneath his uniform.

when did he became so big?

the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a mix of urgency and restraint, as though he were holding back a tidal wave of emotion. you felt the shift in him—the desperation, the longing he’d tried to bury under layers of control. it poured out now, raw and unguarded, and it pulled something equally raw from within you.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and uneven. his hands stayed where they were, steadying you as much as himself, and for a moment, the silence between you felt heavier than any words could.

“just me,” he whispered again, his voice breaking slightly, as if he needed you to believe it as much as he did.

I JUST POSTED PART TWO OF THIS, go check it out!

author’s note: want to cry more while reading? listen to remember me by d4vd and tell me that this song doesn't describe mc and caleb perfectly. SORRY FOR THE POOR ENDING, i'll make a part two of this post soon, follow me to get updated when i post or just check my masterpost from time to time :) send me a request • my masterpost

[arahdow]

IT WAS A LOVE BITE !

Pairing. Shadow x reader

Content. fem reader. suggestive notes, shadow is unhinged, mentions of his gun (bcs of his work), blood, dub con(?). MDNI.

Word count. 0.7 k

A/N. THIS IS A THIRST POST YALL SJJDJSJS i squeezed the words out of my brain, it wasn’t supposed to turn THIS horny but i caught myself on my steamy spotify playlist and well 😗 enjoy!!

The gun sometimes had too much weight on his hand. Always killing here and there: bad people and, when his luck runs out, good people that got into the crossfire. It didn’t matter how good or bad the day went, he always went back home tired. His back ached and his head throbbed. Holding back a grunt, the man opened the door, holding the gun tightly with his right hand.

“Welcome ba-” His partner greeted, stopping abruptly at the image of him, panting, holding his gun. “Shadow?” 

The man didn’t reply. His head was spinning, he needed something… Someone to land his thoughts on. Throwing the gun at the sofa and kicking the door shut, the black hedgehog walked hastingly to the girl. Quickly grabbing her face with his gloved hands, he kissed her, roughly.

Her hands, which were holding a wet towel, let the cloth fall to the floor as she grabbed the man’s hands on her cheeks. She whined into the kiss, trying to pull apart from him. It’s not that she didn’t like his kisses or affection, but this was too harsh for her. 

His lips were additive, so she had a hard time pulling apart. She tried softly at first, throwing little ‘mhm’s’ at him, soon running out of air. Shadow had his eyes closed, then he pulled apart abruptly. And she thought he’d stop.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pulled her again and kissed her deeply again, moving his mouth against hers, savoring her taste, counting every single one of her fangs with his tongue, his teeth nibbling at her lips.

The girl gave in and reciprocated the kiss. If he wanted crazy, he’d have crazy. Pressing her chest onto him, the girl put her arms around his shoulders, one of her hands threading his quills softly, then tugging at them harshly making the man gasp on her lips. For a moment she was confused, he never acted this way, he always was more of a dominant partner, usually mad when she pulled movements like these, but it seemed that today he was more riled up than she thought.

Pushing at his chest, he easily gave in, letting her push him enough so now he was sitting on the couch, the girl straddling him. She didn’t know if she should ask about his demeanor, before it got too bad. 

“Shad- Mhm… Wait- ah, Sha-” The man grunted at her trying to pull apart. Holding the back of her head, he pulled her in, his lips busying themselves on her. Their breaths mingled as he sat on the couch. He opened his legs a little, the girl’s crotch in direct contact with his. Shadow opened his eyes for a bit, pulling apart as she took it as a queue to catch her breath.

“Chaos, you’re so beautiful.” He whispered as his lips connected onto hers again. The girl, with the strength of a breath, took Shadow’s wrists and tried to pin him down to control a bit of the situation. But it backfired as the red in his eyes lit. With a growl, the man used his strength to, in a second, have her back hitting the couch. His legs in between hers, forcing her to raise them. She felt at his full mercy. Then, she suddenly felt something pointy: his fangs. The way he was kissing her so hard, like he was trying to merge both their bodies made her easy to figure out he was almost trying to eat her whole. His teeth got so close, that it tore the skin on her lips making her yank her head to the side in a painful reaction. 

“What? Shadow- what?!” She asked, pressing a hand to his face pushing him back with enough strength to actually get him off of her. The man complied and sat on his knees as the girl wiped her lip with her thumb, noticing a bit of blood dripping from her skin. “You bit me!”

“It’s a love bite!” He justified himself, his voice hoarse, cheeks red from suddenly breaking the atmosphere.The image of his lover with a bloody lip because of him turned him on somehow. Feeling the needy growl itch at his throat, he coughed a bit to get rid of it.

“That’s not a love bite dumbass!” She groaned, a bit in pain.

“Sorry love, I-” He started speaking, but the girl quickly shushed him, her lips pressing onto him, the metallic flavor invading his tongue. Her body pushing him, now her on top of him. 

“No talking, you’re going to pay for this.”

Shadow’s confused expression soon turned into a smirk, amused. “Yes ma’am”

[ilwonuu]

show me

yang jeongin

•pairing- established relationship, inexperienced!reader x softdom!jeongin

•genre- pure smut

•synopsis- your boyfriend offers to teach you how to please him. maybe you didn’t even need his teaching.

•warnings- smut without plot, jeongin has a corruption kink low-key, oral sex (m rec), dirty talk, praise, mentions sex, jeongin a freak but wbk, lots of cum uhhhhh lmk what i missed <3

your whole body was shaking in anticipation. you have never sucked dick before. and your boyfriend offered to guide you through it with a pretty smirk.

“don’t worry sweetheart. you’ll be perfect.” he looked down at you on your knees. you looked at him with a half smile.

you trust jeongin more than anything but of course you’re gonna be nervous to do this for the first time.

“you see how hard you got me?” he rubbed your cheeks softly as his eyes darkened as he stared at you.

“want you to feel good innie.” you whispered to him as you broke eye contact.

“you’re cute. will you take my pants off for me like a good girl?” his voice sounded deeper as he helped you with the first step.

you loved when he talked to you like this you’ve discovered after a few make out sessions and dry humping. jeongin was pretty big.

you felt and could see obviously. you grabbed the hem of his pajama pants, pulling down his legs. his dick stood in front of your eyes. you were surprised jeongin wasn’t wearing underwear.

“just for you.” he said with a big smirk. you blushed at his word before getting ahold of his cock in your hands. he watched you with a smirk before grabbing his cock from you.

“open your mouth.” you’ve never seen his eyes this dark as he watched your every movement. you open your mouth wide for him as he waited for him.

“look at you. so dirty for me aren’t you? tell me how bad you want my cock in your mouth.” he rubbed his dick against your lips as he waited for an answer.

“i want your cock so bad- innie please i just-“ he smiled at you as he spoke.

“show me. let me see you put it in your mouth.” he leaned back against the wall as he focused on you. you didn’t want to wait anymore so you grabbed his half hard cock. you licked the tip as you kept your gaze with him.

he hissed at the contact as he watched you take him into your mouth. you remembered he was supposed to be guiding you but you seemed to be pleasing him with exactly what you’re doing.

“f-fuck just like that. are y-you sure this is your first time?” he helped you bob your head on his cock. jeongin’s dirty talk had flat lined and most of what could be heard was his groans and moans.

“uh- fuck. don’t stop i’m gonna cum in your mouth if you keep going like that.” that made you moan into his cock. he sounded so good when you pleasured him.

“good fucking girl. i knew you’d know how to suck t-this- cock. god baby.” jeongin threw his head back as he got lost in his pleasure.

“i’m gonna cum. s-shit you gonna swallow like my good girl?” you hummed in response as you keep your movements on his cock. you wanted to come up for air but you could tell how close he was. his thighs were twitching with how close he was.

“mm- i’m cumming.” he keep his eyes on you as his cum painted the inside of your mouth. there was a lot of the warm liquid in your throat.

you were caught off guard with him pulling out of your mouth to cum a little on your face. painting your lips as he planted and moaned your name.

“god fuck- you are gonna kill me. i’ve never came that much from just head. you’re crazy baby.” he laughed a little as he helped you cleaned your face.

“come here.” he kissed you with a big smirk.

“i’d like to teach you some other things too. if you want.” he pulled you close to him as his smirk only got bigger.

a/n: i needed fo post this bc i was dying of jeongin thoughts. i love u all muah<3 happy holidays idk when i’ll post next lmfao

[reidmania]

cedar | spencer reid

summary; breaking up on good terms and remaining friends is difficult, especially when you and spencer work together, its even harder when your life is put at risk and spencer is faced the possibility that he might really lose you.

warnings; exes who cannot stay exes, angst, fluff, they flirt w each other, fem reader, mentions of being stabbed, all cm minds things, happy ending, avoidant!reader, self sabotaging reader. BUT THERES SOOO MUCH FLUFF GUYS, they flirt and banter so much, reader is sarcastic and very playful, shes lowkey lorelai gilmore coded a little idk

an; cedar is my song. i love cedar, i love gracie abrams. thank u and goodnight. not proof read bc if i read it i probably wont post it. thank u so very muchly to @gghostwriter for all the advice on this fic and letting me yap about it.

‘Breaking up is funny, I forget you aren't mine, I forget you aren't mine. It's impossible to acclimate, every time we talk, we understate, how I know we both could die, we both could die. But you told me that you felt the same, when I told you how I needed space, but I think it was a lie, it was a lie’

“You know pointing is rude.” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as you leant back in your chair. The room went silent as everyone turned their gaze to look at you. Was the timing of your statement the best? No, did you care? Also no. Hotch was in the middle of going on the details of the case you had traveled out to Louisiana for, he was pointing at the screen and the thought just slipped passed your lips before you could help it.

Spencer turned his gaze to you, eyebrow rasied, “Do you ever think before you speak?” He asked. Your lips parted before shutting again, then you let out an amused huff and shook your head, lips pulling into a half teasing smile.

“If I did that I’d lose my sense of humour— you all would be miserably bored.” You sighed back, the smiling pulling further on your lips as the messy haired brunette sitting opposite you raised his eyebrow further and let out a half hearted— almost sarcastic chuckle in return.

He tilted his head slightly, “Humour? Is that what we are calling it?” He asked. You nodded instantly, a wide, half proud smile taking over your features. He hummed, clearly amused.

“Why is pointing rude?” JJ spoke up, your eyes widened in almost excitement to be able to talk about why the thought had crossed your mind in the first place.

“Well when you point you kill all the fairies.” You replied, matter-of- factually. You knew it was technically silly but it was a sweet childish thought that had been engraved in your mind since you were younger and you heard it from a distant relative, probably as a way to you from stop pointing at someone (because that was rude but explaining that to a five year old would be useless so they settled on something more interesting for an adolescent)

Spencer let out an audible laugh, “You are a child.” He said, almost teasingly.

Your head turned away from JJ’s to meet his eyes, this time you sat up a little straighter, “What does that make you?” You teased back, raising your eyebrow at him.

Seemingly, that made his lips part then close, and he resigned, yet there was still a slightly amused smile on his lips, which he bit his lip to try to hide, as he turned his attention away, making your smile only widen as you settled back in place, slumped against your chair as you turned your attention back to Hotch. who was standing arms crossed, clearly unamused by the interruption.

You however just smiled widely at him, “You may continue now. Without pointing, don’t be a fairy murder.” You huffed out. Hotch stared at you for a moment, no emotion evident over his features before he shook his head, turning his attention back to the case at hand.

Your eyes caught Spencer’s for a moment. In those moments it was increasingly difficult to remember you weren’t together, it was further difficult to remember why you had broken up in the first place. The way you interacted, the looking for one another in a crowded room, the soft touches and the teasing taunts went against every breakup ‘rule’

The breakup wasn’t messy. Not really, Not at all. It wasn’t mean, there was no big argument, no mind changer, no feelings lost, it just.. happened. It started when you had admitted to Spencer you were getting overwhelmed with the fast pace of your relationship, and he agreed he was too. You both agreed to take space, time, to reevaluate on what you both needed at this point in time.

When the conversation finally happened, you told him you thought it would be better to end things now, while everything is good so theres no chance of things going bad. You explained your reasoning by saying you didn’t want to lose your friendship with him if that feeling in your chest never went away, you didn’t want things to be awkward at work.

He had agreed, and it was mutual. You both mutually agreed to end things out of the fear of things ending.

It had been a month since the breakup, there was no awkward phase between you two. There was no tension, bitterness. It instantly fell into the same rhythm that had always been there, playfulness, teasing, lingering glances. The only difference was now he didn’t steal kisses to cut off one of your dramatic rambles, or wrap his arms around your waist at the end of the work day to signal he was ready to go.

You hadn’t decided yet, if the breakup was the right thing to do, if keeping this close knit bond with Spencer stumped any chance of you moving on — not that you planned to right now.

The breakup wasn’t messy, but everything after, everything now and everything in your head was.

“Spencer” You poked at his arm as you approached where he was standing, leaning over a desk reading over something, you weren’t sure what it was, you didn’t really care. He didn’t look at you as he let out a hum of acknowledgment, making you smile. “Spencer” You repeated, poking his arm again, and then again, until he turned his head to look at you.

His raised eyebrow and the way his lips pulled into a tight thin line showed he was unamused, not annoyed. You smiled widely at him, “You’re in my way.” You said, something you could have told him when he was half paying attention, but that took all the fun out of it.

He stared at you blankly for a moment, before crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his body against the desk further, turning towards you. Which only further blocked your path. “Thats unfortunate.” He sighed, you squinted at him slightly.

“Can you move.” You huffed. No longer amused because it was less amusing when he was amused as well. Maybe that was silly but you couldn’t help it.

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to think about it for a moment, before looking back at you. You glared at him, crossing his arms over your chest before he spoke. “Whats the magic word?” He mumbled, tone laced with faux seriousness.

A huff left your lips, as you glared up at him, squinting your eyes slightly, “Chivalry is dead?” You suggested sarcastically.

He grinned, “No. And that’s a sentence. I said magic word”

“You know what? I will just go the other way.” You decided, turning on your heels to walk away. A laugh left his lips as he reached out to grab your wrist, stopping you from getting too far, he dragged you back to stand in front of him.

“Stubborn.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he looked down at you, you returned the gaze, tilting your head slightly as you looked up at him, trying to keep the smile threatening to make way onto your face.

“You just noticed?” You replied in the same tone. Although you knew he had known this for a while, he never failed to mention how stubborn you were throughout your relationship, whether it was playful or in the middle of an argument, he constantly reminded you just how stubborn you were.

He shook his head, not bothering to hide the amusement on his face. “No, No. Trust me you make it very known.” He said, emphasising his words to make it clear that not only he, but everyone was aware of your stubbornness.

You smiled, “Being stubborn isn’t a bad thing, you know.” You mumbled, gently pulling your wrist away from his hold, not because you didn’t enjoy the touch but more-so because you felt an undying urge to cross your arms.

He hummed, looking down at you, “I didn’t say it was.”

You tilted your head, the same entertained look in your eye that mirrored his, “You inferred it.” You said, matter-of-factually, although he didn’t, not really. He actually didn’t give any hint to what he meant by his words, but you were okay with that. It kept things lighthearted, easy.

“You assumed.” He said in the same tone. “I didn’t infer anything, I simply made an observation.” He said, raising his eyebrow as if he was trying to figure out how you were going to find a way to reply — he assumed something witty, dramatic.

“Can you observe from elsewhere.. you’re still in my way”

He let out an amused laugh, “Im still waiting on that magic word” He said, clearly enjoying this and the light hearted banter between the two of you.

You rolled your eyes, in a huff of frustration you ramble, “You are creating a hostile work environment. I feel unsafe. I feel targeted and threatened. How do you feel about yourself, after treating me such a way? You are a horrible evil person. Im going to take this to corporate.” You babbled off into a dramatic tangent which only furthered Spencer’s amusement of the current situation.

“I feel pretty great actually.” He shrugged, you glared at him, staying in place for a moment to see if he would move, he didn’t, instead he continued smirking slightly. You groaned dramatically before turning on your heels and walking away. You could hear his laughter as you walked around the opposite direction to get where you wanted to go in the first place.

“I hate when my job actually requires me to do my job.” You huffed out, shaking your head as you tightened the straps of your vest. It wasn’t true, you loved your job, you loved what you did and that wasn’t a question. It was just the dramatics and the emphasis on how tired you were today, although that didn’t stop killers from killing, or kidnappers from kidnapping.

Unfortunately this case was particularly tough, it had taken an abundance of days to just figure out the victimology and connection because of how random the killings were, then it took another day to figure out the MO, then the profile was completed, then the next day, today, you had finally gotten the location of where the unsub was keeping his victims.

“Yeah, Such a struggle, poor you” Spencer mumbled out as he came up behind you, readjusting the straps on the back of your vest to make sure it was on properly, his voice was laced with tease, you just hummed in acknowledgment.

“Make sure you’re careful, and cautious.” Hotch reminded you. You didn’t think much of it at the time, it was the same reminder as always when catching an unsub, don’t do anything unnecessarily dangerous, don’t split up unless necessary, don’t put yourself in a situation that you cant get yourself out of, the words you had heard probably a million times.

You wished you paid closer attention this time.

You and Spencer walked through the house, it had an ominous feel to it, the air in the house was colder than outside, and it wasn’t a particularly warm day — but it wasn’t the temperature that made the house feel as cold as it did.

Instead it was the guttual sobs you heard from underneath the floorboards that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand, and goosebumps to line your arms. They weren’t sobs of pain, instead just ache, a cry so loud begging for someone to hear. Before that you were about to whisper a stupid joke to Spencer, now you felt as if you couldn’t breath.

“Stay here.” He whispered to you. There was something unfamiliar about the look in his eyes and any wit you could muster up was thrown out the window at the sound of his voice. It was a stupid request, you couldn’t just stay here in the hallway while he wandered around. You had a job to do.

When he turned the corner, gun pointed protectively, his movements were calculated and careful, every step he took he knew what he was doing, You thought you did too. The first step you took was quiet and your gun was pointed, your finger hovering over the trigger.

Spencer moved towards the sound of the sobs, you moved towards the living room, trying to clear the downstairs area of the house. There was a pull in your stomach for a number of seconds, a twist of anxiety you pushed to the side to focus on the matter at hand.

That didn’t last. Ignoring the feeling in your stomach turned into gasping at the feeling. A gasp of pain leaving your parted lips as you stumbled forward, the gun left your hand and hit the ground, the sound of the contact blurring as a ringing swindling sound took over your sense of hearing.

You were stabbed. You could feel the metal, more than you wanted to admit, you could feel the way it pressed into your skin, the coldness of it against the warmth of you. A sob of pain left your lips before you could help it. There was someone holding you, wrapping a tight arm around your chest and a hand over your mouth to silence your cry.

The arms weren’t comforting, in any sort of way. They were too tight, too suffocating for the lack of air you were able to breath in between the hand covering your mouth and the pain in your stomach, you wished adrenaline would kick in but it seemed to dwindle out as your head spun, then the knife was ripped away from your stomach.

That hurt.

More than it did when it first went in.

Then you were released from the mans arms and your body collapsed in pain, eyes squeezing shut as your hands scrambled to press against the open wound now bleeding out. You didn’t know where the unsub was, you didn’t hear footsteps, you didn’t really hear anything. Everything seemed blurry, not your sight so much since your eyes were squeezed shut but you could feel your mind blurring with every second that passed, any first aid training you had learnt flew out the window.

You missed it at first, the sound of the door opening, the sound of back up coming in, Derek, Emily. They were in the house now but not in the living room, not where you were lying on the floor in a helpless pool of your own blood. You wanted to yell out, or sob but every sound got stuck in your throat.

Then you felt a larger hand pressing on top of yours, placing more pressure against the wound than your tired arms had allowed, you made out frantic talking but nothing your half conscious mind could string together coherently. It didn’t matter, you could recognise the roughness of the gentle hand anywhere.

“Spencer” You gasped out, panting.

Had you been holding your breath? You didn’t remember but you knew breathing was getting more and more difficult.

His hand pressed against yours, other hand coming to brush hairs out of your face. “Im here. Can you open your eyes for me?” He almost begged, his voice gentle and reassuring and laced with panic even though he tried his hardest to remain calm for your sake.

You didn’t reply, only letting out strangled gasps for air, eyes remaining shut, squeezed tightly, as if the harder you squeezed them shut, the more your pain decreased. Unfortunately thats not how anatomy works.

“Open your eyes for me angel, look at me.” He now did beg. If you were conscious you would’ve given him a look for the use of the term of endearment in your current broken up state, but you could hardly process anything else he was saying, and you were bleeding out so there was clearly more important things.

You struggled, but after a moment peeled your eyes open to look at him. Vision was blurry and fading in and out even few seconds even when your eyes remained open, you couldn’t make out his features, you couldn’t see the tears he was trying to hold back. God you wished you could see his face.

“Good, thats good. Keep looking at me, Okay? We’re getting you help, you’re gonna be okay” He reassured but it was more of a slight reassurance for himself, trying to convince himself as such. His voice became a ringing in your ears, along with every other sound around you.

“Wh- Where- Is—“ You words came out mumbled, muffled by gasps for air and whimpers of pain. “He.” You finished, trying to keep your eyes open, trying to focus, trying to stay alive.

Spencer spluttered for a moment because he didn’t know— He had no idea. Whether the unsub was right behind him or whether they were being taken into custody by Derek or Emily, whether he was lying dead on the floor somewhere. Spencer didn’t know. He couldn’t. How could he focus on anything else?

“I don’t know” He said.

“Go away” You mumbled, eyes now fluttering closed, even in the state of half consciousness you knew Spencer was still in danger, more danger by keeping his back to his surroundings and his focus on you. That was putting himself in an unnecessarily dangerous situation.

He shook his head. “Im not going anywhere. Keep your eyes open.” He repeated.

“Spencer” You huffed out a breath of air, your eyes remaining closed because you were so tired. “Go. You- You aren’t— You aren’t my boyfriend anymore” You huffed out the words that came across way harsher than what you intended them, “Staying- With.. Me isn’t your.. Responsibilty” Your words came out laboured along with the way your chest rose and fell, the breaths that left your lips.

“Don’t say that. Open your eyes.” He shook his head as his other hand trailed down to your neck, fingers pressing against your pulse point. You couldn’t feel it, every part of you and every inch of his touch felt like a lingering sensation over the numbness of your body, your eyes remained shut.

“If i die” You huffed out, your voice quieter, more rushed as you tried to get more air in, “Please” You started before you let out a gentle sob, not of pain, you weren’t in pain, not anymore. “Please don’t let them use a bad— photo of me.. at..- my funeral”

It was the most you things to say before you stopped replying, before your body tensed slightly. To joke, to be playful at a time like this. Spencer wondered if it was an attempt to calm him down, to relax his mind a little bit, to sooth the ache in his soul with the wit that was unforgettably you.

The cream coloured walls seemed taunting, they were warmly lit, contrasting how cold the space felt, how daunting it was. There was different people scattered around, some crying, and grieving, some reading newspapers, others celebrating. There was really no contrast of emotions quite like a hospital waiting room.

“She just got out of surgery. Shes in the ICU.” Hotch said as he stood in front of the few members of the team that were sitting by waiting. Everyone wanted to stay at the hospital and wait throughout the time of your lengthy surgery, not everybody could.

“Is she okay?” Emily asked, sitting up a little straighter as Hotch spoke, Spencer remained silent in place, every part of his body relying on the ache in his chest to keep his heart beating. He didn’t know if he could form words even if he wanted to, he didn’t know if he could speak without his voice breaking.

Hotch was silent for a moment, which caused Spencer’s head to snap towards him in nothing but pure dread. Hotch realised and shook his head. “Shes— Shes fine. Shes alive. Shes still asleep, they said it could be a few hours before she wakes up. The surgery went fine - She will be okay” Hotch sounded relived as his spoke, an unfamiliar sense of emotion in his voice.

“Can I see her?” Spencer spoke urgently before he had even fully understood what he was saying. If he had thought about it for a moment more, he wouldn’t have bothered asking. He wasn’t oblivious to the inner workings of a hospital. ICU. Family members only.

Hotch seemed to know that Spencer already knew what the answer was, “Reid..” It came out regretful, apologetic, empathetic. Spencer didn’t reply, instead re-slumped back in his seat in defeat.

There was hours. Hours before you were awake. In those hours Spencer was nothing short of a mess. He tried to work, reading over case files, trying to summarise what had happened and then the memory of your blood painting his hands came back and he was left in a state of overwhelming thought.

“You alright, pretty boy?” Derek asked, despite the playfulness of his words, his tone was serious. It wasn’t a secret how much you meant to Spencer, it wasn’t a secret how much he cared about you. Spencer looked up from the hospital seat, the room had grown more absent of life as the hours passed, families came and went, the crying stopped and started again, the celebrations happened and passed. Yet spencer never stopped feeling so lost.

He shook his head, saying he was fine would be a lost cause to the knowingness of his best friend, and his current state. He was so evidently not all right that saying so would be humorous. His cheeks were flushed, hair a mess from the amount of times he had run his hand through it, tugged on the strands stressfully.

“You know what she said to me?” Spencer mumbled out as he pulled his gaze away to look at his fiddling hands, “She was laying on the floor, dying, and she told me to go away because I wasn’t her boyfriend anymore” Spencer huffed out the memory.

Derek sighed, taking a seat next to the mess of his best friend. “I don’t think she meant it like that. The situation was still dangerous and you were putting yourself at risk.” Derek said. Spencer wanted to cry.

“I know— I know. She said ‘it’s not your responsibility to stay with me anymore’ — I don’t— I can’t—” Spencer couldn’t articulate the emotions swamping his mind. Everything was overwhelming, every time he closed his eyes he saw you on the floor in a puddle of deep red blood, anytime his fingers remained still for too long it was like he could still feel your pulse running flat against them.

“Breathe.” Derek reminded as Spencer got himself worked up.

“I lost her— I lost her.” Spencer shook his head as the words came out, his hands pulling to his face to rub over his eyes, maybe as to hide the way they’d begun to water, maybe to feel anything besides the heat of his cheeks.

Derek sat up a little straighter to rub Spencer’s shoulder, “Shes okay. They said she will be fine. They just want to look over her for a while. She was in a tough surgery, I don’t know much about hospitals but I’m pretty sure being in the ICU means shes getting all the care she needs to recover better, and faster.” Derek tried to comfort.

“Its- No- I already lost her Derek. I was an idiot and I didn’t say anything — I didn’t say anything because I was scared of losing her and i lost her anyways.” He rambled, an overwhelming force of regret lingering in every word he gasped out.

“Your breakup? I thought that was mutual?” Derek furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Spencer wanted to laugh, because technically it was. Technically they had both agreed, technically this is what he wanted as well.

He just wanted you.

“She wanted space— I thought.. I thought everything would be okay. Then she suggested we break up while things are still good enough for us to end on good terms and be friends. I just — I didn’t want to lose her; I wanted her to be happy and in my life so I didn’t say anything.. I- I settled for being friends because it meant — I thought it meant i still had her” Spencer was a mess and it was evident in the stammer of his words in the midst of his ramble.

“You don’t think you do?” Derek asked, Spencer shook his head as he brought his hand down to rub gently over his chin and bottom lip, a shaky breath leaving his lip’s. “I think you do.. I mean everyone does. You two still act like you’re together.” Derek said, furrowing his eyebrows.

Spencer sighed, “Thats just— Thats how it was before we started dating. Sometimes it feel’s like we are still together.” Spencer mumbled, Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Spencer cut him off. “Shes going to wake up, alone. Her family is in a different state and I’m not allowed to see her? I- This is bullshit.”

“Just say you’re her husband” Emily said, catching both of the boys off guard, they hadn’t heard her approaching. Spencer lifted his gaze from the ground to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. Any other time, if it was for any other person he would probably go over how that went against so many rules, but he couldn’t find himself caring.

Not when it came to you.

He broke protocol. He wondered how many times that had happened today as he sat beside you, his hand on of yours, thumb gently running over your knuckles as you laid still unconscious on the bed. He paid attention to the beeping of the machine, the rhythm of your heartbeat, making sure it stayed consistent like his life depended on it — like your life depended on it.

You mumbled something, causing his gaze to break away from the screen to your face, watching it twist slightly. Your eyes remaining closed, then your hand twisted to interlink your fingers with his. You were evidently in pain.

“Hey- Hey don’t move too much. Do you want me to get your nurse? They can give you some different meds” Spencer ushered gently, leaning closer to the bed as you stirred awake. He wasn’t sure if your lengthy amount of time spent unconscious was purely because of the antiseptic leaving your system or also the need for sleep but he was glad you were awake.

“No” You rasped out. Whatever medicine they had been pumping you with since you got out of surgery did its job. You weren’t necessarily in pain, just uncomfortable. Even with your eyes closed you could feel the brightness of the white hospital lights. You knew where you were.

Spencer squeezed your hand gently, making you now very aware that he was holding your hand. “What the fuck happened?” You huffed out, voice groggy and full of confusion. You knew where you were, you knew it was something that happened on the case, you knew you were stabbed, but everything after the knife made contact with your abdomen was a blur in your memory.

“You were stabbed.” He stated. You opened your eyes to glare at him, “Yeah- Spencer, no shit.” You shook your head, he smiled. “I just— Is everyone else okay?” You asked.

He nodded. Derek and Emily had saved all the victims and the unsub was in custody, he explained that to you softly, mapping out every detail so you could make it out enough in your mind to satisfy your need to know what was going on.

“Next time can you tell him to do better? This bed sucks” You referenced to the unsub stabbing you, and leaving you alive and uncomfortable. It was a joke. You tried to move without causing yourself any pain over the uncomfortable thin mattress of the hospital bed. Spencer smiled and let out a breathy half hearted laugh.

“I’ll be sure to let him know” He returned your playful tone but it was heavier, quieter. It was filled with something more, something unsaid. His eyes dropped from your to back to your hands that were twined together, rubbing his thumb gently over the webbing of your own.

You tilted your head slightly, “What’s wrong?” You asked, it didn’t take a genius to read Spencer. You had memories the is and out’s of his head, or you thought you did. You knew enough.

“I thought I lost you.” He said, shaking his head slightly. His voice was so quiet and filled with guilt. “We broke up and.. because of what? Because we didn’t want to lose each other— I almost lost you.” His words held so much gravity it felt like it had all been taken from your surroundings and you were floating on everything left unsaid and unfinished.

“But you didn’t. Im alive.” You smiled playfully. He said your name, serious, showing he wasn’t playing around about this, that it went further than just this situation. You sighed, and shook your head. There were only so many jokes you could make to downplay the weight of the space between you.

“Okay. We broke up.” You mumbled, looking at him. “Because things were weird and it was too much and if things kept going then if we ended later it wouldn’t be on good terms and then we wouldn’t be able to be friends and thats horrible for everyone” You said, recapping your mutual decision to break up.

“Why do you do that?” He asked, squinting his eyes as he looked up at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Do what?” There was a number of things he could pull you up on, your avoidance, your jokes, your way of downplaying everything and anything.

“Plan the end of things when they have hardly started. You were planning a breakup for a relationship that was doing perfectly fine. You needed space, I gave you space, then you decided you wanted to break up? Why?” He huffed out.

You furrowed your eyebrows further at his words, but he was right. Of course he was right. “You said you felt the same.” You mumbled, maybe if he had called you on your bullshit a month ago things would be different and you would’ve worked things out, you two would be together and maybe everything would be different. You also knew it wasn’t his responsibility to try and understand emotions you couldn’t comprehend or communicate to him.

“I didn’t want space, I didn’t want to break up — but I didn’t want to lose you all together.” He admitted. You suddenly felt the wind knock out of your chest. You wondered if the way your heart beat increased showed on the monitor, which seemed all too revealing.

“You didn’t say that.” You muttered.

He sat up a little straighter, not letting go of your hand, his fingers stayed tangled with your own. “Would it have changed anything if i did?” His voice was quiet, as if a question that didn’t need an answer.

“It was going.. too fast” You huffed. The relationship did go fast, but maybe it was because the two of you spent way too many years in this flirty banter phase before either of you actually made a move; maybe because you were both already so comfortable with one another.

“We could have slowed it down.” He said, rebutting.

“And if that didn’t work? If it was all just too much? Then we argue and we end on bad terms and then not only is it awkward for everyone at work but then we can’t even be friends” You repeated your point, the fear engraved in your mind.

“What if it did work?” He shut you up with his point, before he continued. “What if it did work and then everything was fine. What if you told me when things are getting too much or overwhelming you and we work together to fix those issues so we don’t end at all.”

“That’s optimistic.” You mumbled sarcastically. Everything he was saying made sense, everything he was saying was ideally how a relationship would go, but it wasn’t as simple as that for you. You couldn’t help the way your mind thought the worst.

Spencer huffed shaking his head, “You’re stubborn.” He said. And he never let you forget it.

“Im realistic.” You resorted, but you weren’t: You hyper fixated on everything that could go wrong and got yourself out of those situations before giving anything a chance to work out itself.

“You’re an idiot. And I love you.” Spencer exhaled. It wasn’t a crazy love confession because you knew this. He made it known everyday. Even everyday you were broken up. He didn’t need to hide it. “Can you give us a chance? A proper chance without planning our breakup before theres any actual reason for it, please.” He mumbled, half playfully and half so serious.

You considered his words. Honestly your last thought before falling unconscious was the fear that you would die without Spencer knowing how much you loved him, how much regret you lived with for the state you had got yourself into with him, the fear you had of not having him in some way, none of these thoughts you could voice aloud when dying.

“Okay.” You settled.

“Okay?” He asked, repeating it back as if he didn’t believe you. You nodded, repeating it again. He breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Okay good, because everyone on this floor thinks I’m your husband and it would’ve been really awkward if you just rejected me.”

[povlnfour]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ STUDY BREAK (OP81)

pairing: oscar piastri x f!student!reader

summary: oscar piastri is a formula 1 driver. y/n is an international relations student. her friends find her relationship pretty hard to believe. especially when she can’t tell them any details for you know… nda reasons.

warnings: main characters friends can be jackasses. mentions of international relations for any of my fellow bach survivors who shiver at the mention of the course

* faceclaim: scarlett leithold (but please imagine her as you see fit!)

yourusername just posted a photo *ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbsf and 276 others

yourusername summer break you were fab

view all comments

yourbsf wow you took international relations literally huh

yourusername call it research

friend1 IS THAT A PRIVATE JET? IS UR DAD RICH RICH?

friend2 girlie where are you getting all this money from i know uni debt is killing you like the rest of us

yourusername rich boyf perks😙

friend2 this ‘boyf’ who we conveniently haven’t met?🤔

oscarpiastri just posted a photo *ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 193,209 others

oscarpiastri good company, good racing🤙🏻

view all comments

user luv u oscar

user YOU’LL COME BACK EVEN STRONGER KING

user you seemed so happy today :’)

user ppl are saying he had a girl w him👀

yourusername cutie

friend2 your boyfriend seeing you comment on random celebs posts…🤭

texts with oscar *ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo *ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbsf and 300 others

yourusername term 1 you’ve been cute

👤 tagged yourbsf, friend1, friend2, friend3

view all comments

friend3 can’t believe ur not in lectures next week bc ur off to go watch cars go vroom vroom 🙄

yourusername gotta support my boy what do you want from me

friend3 sure jan

yourbsf first pic is HOT send it to me rn

friend1 tagged but not pictured… just like ur boyfriend

yourusername just posted stories *ੈ✩‧₊˚

oscarpiastri just posted a photo *ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 194,256 others

oscarpiastri race✔️ time to explore⏳

view all comments

landonorris oscar has rizz?

user your captions say so little yet so much

user HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND????

friend1 @/yourusername ur heart must be breaking

yourusername ????

friend1 he’s got a girllllll

user lando speaks for us all HUH

your group chat *ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo *ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourbsf and 361 others

yourusername bit of fun before back to reality :)

view all comments

yourbsf look cute who’s your photographer

yourusername os🥰

friend3 girl is the shirt meant to prove something

friend1 i am saying nothing other than ur cute (and delusional)

texts with your best friend *ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo *ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourbsf, landonorris and 278 others

yourusername does it count as a date if it’s his full time job?

view all comments

friend1 girl… this may be going too far

yourusername literally what do you want from me ????

yourbsf i’m happy to be your third wheel as long as i get maid of honour duties

friend2 don’t encourAGE HER

yourbsf just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername and 410 others

yourbsf ode to my best friend and her boyfriend (ft. me) who are sickeningly adorable but cause me more stress than is worth it

view all comments

yourusername WHEN DID YOU TAKE THESE

yourbsf WHEN YOU WERE BEING ALL GROSS

yourusername also the pic of us is so cute🥹

yourbsf you weren’t kidding when you said the boy is a good photographer

your group chat ੈ✩‧₊˚

texts with oscar ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbsf and 301 others

yourusername more from summer because i miss italy and i miss being trackside

view all comments

friend3 this was a weak attempt to convince us

friend1 bby… just confess it’s okay

oscarpiastri pretty girl

liked by yourusername

friend2 oh

friend1 huh. interesting

your group chat ੈ✩‧₊˚

oscarpiastri just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername and 201,456 others

oscarpiastri graduation party or a chance to show off to her friends that i actually exist? who knows. proud of you baby🧡

👤 tagged yourusername, yourbsf, friend1, friend2, friend3

view all comments

user mr piastri i must confess my love for ur girlfriend

friend3 i humbly accept that i was wrong

yourbsf wish i could have taken a photo of their faces when you walked in lmao

user i love her already LOOK AT THAT SMILE

yourusername i lurv uuuuu

landonorris gross go back to being a secret

yourusername gonna make out w him in front of you

landonorris I SWEAR TO GOD Y/N. OSCAR CONTROL YOUR GIRLFRIEND.

oscarpiastri i’ll keep her feisty thanks

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 3,409 others

yourusername a hot boyfriend who exists✔️ a degree✔️ a killer ass✔️

view all comments

oscarpiastri fun fact the last part is only one of my favourite things abt you

yourusername aw you’re so romantic os

oscarpiastri nothing but the best for you

friend1 i can’t believe he exists

friend2 i can’t believe oscar piastri spoke to us

yourusername said with all the love in the world, SUCK MY DICK

user i’ve only just been introduced to this friend group and i already love them

———

a/n: first oscar post EEEE

this was meant to be a lando one shot first but author is: in hospital, so i hope this is okay for now😭

taglist (found HERE): @iluvvmeeee @champagnelovers101 @alessioayla @idkiwantchocolatee @skatingiswalkingincursive @six-call @he6rtshaker @hobiismyhopeu @tallrock35 @sunflower-golden-vol6 @woozarts @minkyungseokie @vellicora @tsukishitm-a @lucyysthings

[gasstationlady]

tom holland’s school of manifestation | a charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x supermodel!reader

charles has a big crush on world renowned supermodel, y/n l/n. who would’ve thought she’d return the feelings.

notes: very much travis kelce x taylor swift inspired. faceclaim is yasmin wijnaldum! btw i try to improve with each post (like how i write/pace the story) so if you have any suggestions, pls (veryvery kindly) tell me!! :))

disclaimer: SORRY FOR TYPOS. GOOGLE TRANSLATE (and from american high school lol) FRENCH. KYM ILLMAN MENTIONED LOL. none of the information in this social media au is factual. i do use old photos of charlotte and charles, and usually i don't like to include pictures of their ex or current gfs in these fics (only bc i want to keep it as imaginative as possible and i feel like adding them kinda gives you a reality check while reading LOL) so lmk your opinions on that!

masterlist

voguemagazine

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 854,487 others

voguemagazine Since beginning modeling at the age of 14, Y/N L/N has cemented herself as the most influential supermodel of all time. As of 2023, she is now the world’s highest paid model surpassing Kendall Jenner who previously led the list. Throughout her career, she has made 39 appearances on international Vogue covers.

Tap the link in our bio to read the full profile. Photographed by @/leannafitz, Written by Phil Stevenson, Styled by @/sheri_simmons, Vogue, February 2023.

View all 942 comments

user MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user omg as someone who has been a fan since she began in 2011, i’m so proud of her 😭

user she's the definition of perfection

user LOL ariana (charles), what are you doing here

↳ user his little crush on her is soo cute 😩

↳ user he’s just like us fr lmaoo

user her walk is legendary like it reminds me so much of naomi

user i was gonna say she’s the model of our generation but that’s wrong. she’s actually the top model of all time 😩😩😩

user i’m glad to see a non-nepo baby be on top of the list

↳ user no literally like no shade to bella, kendall, and them but y/n had to fight tooth and nail to be here

↳ user frrr bc most of the nepo baby models are great, don’t get me wrong. however, they were allowed to make mistakes during their career in order to improve. y/n was not privileged enough to have that. like ppl don’t understand the insane expectations that were placed on her ever since she entered the industry, but she exceeded those expectations every. single. time. and that’s why she deserves this title

user she’s so beautiful

user i would die for y/n

user nothing could describe the amount of affection i have for this woman omfg

charleslc_updates

42,077 likes

charleslc_updates Charles and Arthur talking about Y/N L/N (again lol) in a recent interview 👀

View all 396 comments

user lmaoooooo relatable

user omg i'm new to f1 but i've always been a y/n stan i'm freaakkkinng out but wdym again??

↳ user lmaooo charles is always trying to bring up y/n

user the leclerc brothers 🥰🥰

user it was so cute to see the both of them in one video

user this man fr blushed AHAH cute

user i get it charles i too have the biggest crush on y/n

↳ user lol literally like get in line dude

↳ user back of the line bucko

user i've never seen a man so down bad for someone he's never met

user y/n what are you doing girl if you don't want him ILL DO IT

user @/yourusername

↳ user LMAO YESSS @/yourusername

ynupdates

239,095 likes

ynupdates Y/N opening the 2023 Chanel by Karl Lagerfeld show during Paris Fashion Week.

View all 3,977 comments

user omg she absolutely killed it

user god does she need a dog? i can bark

user i love seeing her thrive

user quick charles this is your chance!!! she’s in paris 😭😭😭 @/charles_leclerc

↳ user lmaooooo not you tagging him but literally though

↳ user no srsly please mr. "i hope our paths cross soon" you don't understand i need this to happen

user yall saw that walk??? ugh y/n the woman that you are

user i don’t get the hype. all she does is walk.

user NAHHHH SHE ATEEE THAT

user i’m so happyyyy 🥺 y/n is so booked and busy she’s really out here doing multiple back to back shows for paris fashion week

↳ user same! it’s crazy that she gets to open and close multiple shows, especially ones like chanel!

user i love that so many people are going to these shows just to see y/n

user i could make this exact dress with my curtains

user if i ever meet her in real life i would die happily

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, bellahadid and 5,490,124 others

yourusername rien de mieux que d'etre a la maison [no place like home]

View all 12,658 comments

gigihadid sexy lady

↳ yourusername already missing you

user i keep forgetting she's part french

user you absolutely KILLED those shows

voguemagazine iconic ⭐️

alexademie 🔥🔥

user beautiful girl!!

user omggg charles liking this LOL

↳ user it's actually frustrating me that this man has no game like i'm rooting for you cmon

↳ user lmaooo literally though i'm just hoping he's pulling some strings behind the scenes

anokyai 😍😍😍

user la plus belle fille [the most beautiful girl] *liked by charles_leclerc

↳ user if this is him shooting his shot 😭😭

↳ user lol charles is down so bad he's even going through the comments

user am i just crazy but why are there two drinks in the second post? like is this supposed to be a very soft launch

↳ user it's probably gigi 😭😭 she did comment saying that they were hanging out with each other

↳ user but why not just take a pic of her tho

deuxmoi

31,844 likes

deuxmoi Y/N L/N & Charles Leclerc spotted hanging out with each other in Paris

View all 992 comments

user NO WAY OMG

user i'm actually in disbelief how tf did charles get here

user i knew you could do it charles!!

user TURN IT UP IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE

user so are they dating???

user CHARLES FR WINNING RN AHAH

↳ user NO LITERALLYYY HES BEEN DREAMING ABOUT THIS FOR AGES

↳ user he manifested this 😭

user they look sooo good together

user why does he look so srs

↳ user give my man a break 😩

↳ user well it looks like he’s not your man anymore 😭😭

user omgg this is like a fairytale

user wait i'm kinda obsessed with this

user i’m so invested

kymillman

201,885 likes

kymillman Y/N AND CHARLES

Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc is joined at the track today by top supermodel, Y/N L/N. This is the first time Y/N is with him and she clearly shines in front of the camera.

Her debut at the grid has quickly become a popular topic as fans and drivers alike are intrigued by the presence of one of the most famous women in the world.

For A3 prints, hand-signed & numbered by a range of drivers/team principals head to kymillman.com #f1 #formula1 #signedprints #japanesegp #CharlesLeclerc #Y/NL/N

View all 971 comments

user SHDJEJ IM ACTUALLY GOING FERAL

user mom and dad 😩

user so it’s official???

↳ user i mean this is the hardest launch they could have done other than posting 😭

user i’m a charles fan and even i’m surprised he got her to date him

user i’m rooting for them so much 🥺🥺

user she’s serving though

user i’m watching the race rn and they literally keep talking about y/n being there AHH

↳ user i always forget she’s kind of a big deal

user kym gets on my nerves but this picture is actual gold

user it's so obvious that this is a publicity stunt

↳ user nah but for who? bc i know damn well that neither charles nor y/n need it

↳ user obviously not for them but maybe it's to gather more attention for f1

↳ user girl i need u to listen to urself rn 😭 bc that makes no sense

user idk who charles is and idk what the hell f1 is but best believe i’m tuning in next race just to see y/n

↳ user literally me girl i can’t believe i’m watching cars drive in a circle rn

yn_updates

91,922 likes

yn_updates Some moments of Y/N being mentioned by drivers during the Formula 1 race

View all 1,061 comments

user i swear it was like every minute i'd hear y/n's name

user the way that all the drivers are aware of charles's long time obsession with y/n LOL

↳ user i just know charles is the type to never shut up about her ahaha

user she's literally THE y/n l/n. i mean if viewers are sky rocketing just by her being there, imagine her impact if she had actively promoted it

↳ user she's so iconic

↳ user no bc i love y/n so much that i just forced myself to watch rich grown men vroom vroom in circles for almost 2 hrs just to catch a glimpse of her

user i'm in love with her life

user LMAOOO THE DRIVERS TEASING CHARLES

user lando's so funny 😭😭

user y/n and f1 stans are being FED today wow

user is it just me or am i kinda annoyed about how often they're bringing her up like my girl can't even support her bf in peace

↳ user yea i'm eating it up but also feeling bad for y/n at the same time. the attention is definitely a double edge sword.

user apparently she was with joris most of the time 🥺

user this is literally straight from a fairy tale i can't

user didn't they just meet like a week ago

↳ user as far as we know they were first spotted together about a month ago by that deuxmoi post. but assuming from y/n and charles's past relationships, i don't think they'd be this comfortable going public without being together for a while

↳ user yea this has definitely been going on longer than we think/have been seeing

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, gigihadid, landonorris and 7,712,083 others

charles_leclerc J'ai toujours su que c'était toi. Joyeux anniversaire, mon amour ❤️ [I've always known it was you. Happy birthday, my love]

View all 34,511 comments

yourusername merci, mon cœur ❤️ [thank you, my heart]

yourusername je suis raide dingue de toi [i'm madly in love with you]

↳ charles_leclerc l'amour de ma vie [the love of my life]

user are we interrupting something...

user i can’t believe it’s already been 6 months since they first went public

user throwing myself down the stairs as we speak

user they don't know it yet but we're actually a throuple

user happy birthday y/n!!!

user in love with their love 🥺

user lmfaoooo i just know charles is on cloud 9 this man literally sees y/n and is blind to everything else

↳ user he's sooo cute, he's like a love sick puppy

user i still think this is a pr relationship

user god i'd die for someone to look at me the way charles looks at y/n in that second pic

user this is my roman empire

user i'm so obsessed with them it's insane

user our generation's brad and angelina

↳ user don't say that wtf my parents are never separating

user pls don't ever breakup 😭😭

[ikeuverse]

lighthouse | psh

pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader  genres: angst, fluff wc: 3.9k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : mention of divorce, a bad relationship with his father, a few swear words, lots of kisses.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : sunghoon felt lost after his parents' divorce, even more so because he never got along with his father. the only thing that kept him going and guided him to good things was you.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : i tried to write this angst to see if my creativity comes back. at first i wasn't satisfied with it, but little by little i know i'll start posting again and i want this story to be my starting point. i chose angst bc i've been angsty lately. but i hope you like it!

꒰ 𝅄 masterlist ꒱

If there were a cliché meter for life's events, yours would surely be overflowing if you were to look at the story of falling in love with your neighbor.

And even worse, if your mother was good friends with his mother and had a little help in the process of bringing the two of you together.

But you wouldn't be cliché about the part where you were never opposed to it, least of all Sunghoon. He loved the idea when his mother told him that the neighbor's daughter was going to spend the vacation there.

He was charmed from the first moment he laid eyes on you. And it wouldn't be any different if you said otherwise because Sunghoon was charming. And neither of you was embarrassed or denied when both mothers complimented or invested a little more.

"Y/n is so pretty, I think you two match" your mother would say to Sunghoon at every opportunity.

"Did you know that I agree with you?" he would reply to your mother with such a charming smile that even after looking in her direction it wouldn't disappear.

This is how your attack on Park Sunghoon began and how much you let him into your life.

Perhaps the cliché part of denying everything and making things slow while you gradually felt your feelings for him grow. Or the cliché of discovering his life through his mother who always met with you in the afternoons, telling you fragments of a life she thought she knew.

Or a Sunghoon she thought was her son, while you painted a completely distorted picture.

But no. It was more interesting to accept that he would take you out for coffee every afternoon after the university study session, talking about life and finding out about it for himself. Hearing from Sunghoon every little thing you wanted to know. Talking about your life and how much you thought you were doing for yourself.

It was nice to discover that you two had things in common, like, for example, that you both decided to give up the dorms at university to move back in with your mother. The case? Unfortunately the same. Your father decided he wanted a divorce long before he knew you were doing well in your course of choice.

Your mother handled it very well, not least because she had wanted a divorce for a long time. Sunghoon's mother, who was going through the same process, wasn't coping so well. Since she still said she liked his father in some conversations they had.

That could be why Sunghoon was so shaken when he said those words out loud, almost destroying his coffee straw when he told you about his parents' divorce proceedings. He never mentioned how much it hurt him because – as his mother was always proud to say – he was a strong boy. And Sunghoon wanted to be that stronghold for his mother.

"Maybe you can share it with me then" you shrugged and tried to smile at him.

It was then that Sunghoon felt he could share things with you without too much worry.

About his parents' divorce, about how much university was killing him, or how he couldn't complete such a simple task. But the one thing Sunghoon couldn't say out loud was how much he was falling in love with you.

He thought that would be the cliché of his life. To be so madly in love with someone and hide it to get it across, but no. Sunghoon didn't want it to go away, he wanted to tell you.

He wanted you to know about every single time you helped him or were there. Or every time the two of you went out together somewhere different and talked about life.

They were always subjects that were too difficult for him to deal with since, at home, Sunghoon wanted to be as light as possible. You thought you wanted to be like that for your mother too, even if her process was a little more relaxed, but showing strength to the woman who brought you into the world and was happy that you were back home was the least of it.

"Hey" Sunghoon's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, the little movie running through your mind from when the two of you first met "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

You looked into his eyes, a glow so intense that you liked it and felt even more comfortable every time you looked at him.

"About when we first met" you let slip, sprawling out even more on the sofa in the house that Sunghoon shared with his mother.

"And was it good for you?" Sunghoon fought the urge to hold your hands.

Even though the two of you were close and intimate enough for this, you knew his limits and even though you felt the same way, you thought it never went beyond casual hugs because he wasn't ready. So you could wait.

"I think it was one of the best things that could have happened to me since I moved back in with my mother."

"Strange" he paused for a moment, you froze in place thinking you'd said something to upset him. But as soon as you turned even more towards him, Sunghoon was smiling "I was going to tell you exactly that."

"Oh, were you?" your question came out low, at a moment when your body almost leaned forward, but Sunghoon was quick to do it first and when you blinked, his face was inches from yours.

That had been a breakthrough for him and you too. Feeling him so close, Sunghoon's breath almost next to your mouth almost made you sigh.

"Sunghoon..." you whispered.

"Yes?" he said in the same tone, raising one of his hands to rest on your cheek. There you knew that another step would definitely be taken.

What you so desperately wanted was about to happen, so you thought you'd put your hand over his. Like a silent request that Sunghoon could move forward.

He did it ever so slowly, lips brushing against yours and ready to be kissed if it weren't for the damn doorbell ringing.

The boy in front of him gritted his teeth in frustration... He'd always lacked the courage, but when he finally decided to do it, he had to be interrupted.

Why couldn't it be later? Just when Sunghoon was about to kiss you after so long.

"You'd better answer that" you still whispered, and even though you didn't want him to leave, the doorbell had been rung once again. It could be important.

"I'll be right back, please don't go anywhere."

As if I could. You almost answered, but he was quick to get up from the sofa and go to the door.

From where you were sitting, you could only see Sunghoon and half the door, not who was outside playing and interrupting the moment you two shared. So you only knew who was there by the words of the boy in your field of vision.

"Dad" didn't take much for you to notice how uncomfortable Sunghoon was. It flipped a switch and you quickly got up from the sofa, pondering whether you should gather your things and leave or wait for him there.

Sunghoon gave you a single glance, which didn't mean much, and left to close the door. Maybe have a private chat with his father while you are there.

To give you even more privacy, you decide to go to the kitchen and get a cup of juice that you were both drinking before deciding on the movie a few hours ago.

That doesn't calm your nerves and curiosity, let alone the uncertainty of what to do.

What was his father doing there? Had he come to talk to Sunghoon about the divorce? Did he come to ask him to move in with him or to tell him that he wants to go back?

Your thoughts were interrupted again by Sunghoon's voice, this time deeper and more serious than when he had called you into the living room.

"Hi" you tried to smile, but as soon as you saw his bright eyes and red face, something was definitely wrong.

You came around the kitchen counter and didn't wait for his permission to wrap your arms around him and pull Sunghoon's body to you. Visibly taller and stronger than you, this didn't stop him from letting you hug him, let alone lowering his head to lay it on top of your head.

The low sighs he let out were an indication that nothing was going right, that he was crying silently and didn't want you to see him like that.

"Hello darlings, I'm home!"

How wonderful, his mother had arrived just when she wasn't supposed to.

Sunghoon let go of your arms and ran up the stairs to his own room before his mother said anything. The hurricane that passed through her was a basic indication that something had happened.

"Are you two all right?" his mother asked as soon as you appeared, looking between your figure and the spot Sunghoon had rushed past.

You just nodded, wanting to be brief at that moment. Even if you knew you'd have to tell them what had happened, Sunghoon probably wouldn't be leaving his room any time soon.

You were right to think that Sunghoon wouldn't be leaving his room any time soon. A whole week without any contact with him, let alone knowing about him when the boy's mother came to your house to talk to his mother.

It made you sad in a way, wondering how you could help him since the problem was always shared with you. But this time it seemed that Sunghoon wanted to get as far away from everything as possible.

Would it be bad to go to his house first? Perhaps a message would suffice before you crawled out from under your covers as the strong wind beat against the glass of your window.

you: hey you: are you okay? i'm worried

Sent.

Read.

He read his message and more than ten minutes passed before Sunghoon could reply. He couldn't be avoiding you, could he?

sunghoon: i'm fine sunghoon: no need to worry

He's never been brief enough with you since you first met. Sunghoon has been frustrated a few times since then, but that was never an excuse or anything for him to treat you like that.

you: want to come here? i kind of miss you...

The message had been sent for forty minutes and there had been no reply from Sunghoon. Right, whatever had happened to his father had certainly stirred something up inside him to make him avoid you too.

You remember his mother saying that Sunghoon didn't talk to her at all during that time, only going downstairs to get his meals and locking himself in his room without any contact with her the whole time.

She even considered calling you to see if you could get him out of there, but considering the messages you and he had just exchanged, surely you'd only get in the way.

"Shit" you cursed softly as your eyes stung and your heart ached more than usual.

This couldn't be happening, you never thought you'd cry for Sunghoon. You never thought you'd follow the cliché of taking it easy and even walking away from your neighbor's son when you had the chance.

Your mental questions were interrupted by the sound of thunder outside, indicating the enormous rain that was beginning to fall. Perhaps this was a metaphor for how watery his eyes were, wanting to wipe the pain from his heart along with the falling rain, wiping away all the bad feelings that had hung over that week.

Feeling that nothing was right and that, at the same time, everything seemed to fit together. If that was the answer to what you – almost – experienced with Sunghoon, it hurt. But you could accept it.

"Damn" you cringed when another thunderclap cut through the sky, at the same moment that your cell phone vibrated on the bed. Two things scaring you in a short period.

You unlocked the device to read the message flashing on the screen.

sunghoon: can you open the door?

Was he downstairs? And in the rain?

You didn't think much of it when you pushed back the covers and ran down the stairs to the front door to open it for Sunghoon. You didn't even consider the possibility that it was someone playing a trick on you, using his cell phone for a bad joke. No, he wouldn't allow that.

Unlocking the door and cringing at every sound of thunder outside, your face lit up at the figure in front of you.

"Sunghoon. Oh God, you're—"

You were going to scold him for being soaked, he knew he'd hear something from you, but he couldn't before doing what he'd come there to do.

The interruption was defeated when his lips pressed hard against yours. Without even thinking, he just pulled you close and swallowed your scream of terror at feeling him completely wet and cold. But at the same time, you relaxed and let him lead.

Giving way when his tongue poked at your lower lip, shuddering at the cold touch his fingertips provided when they touched your cheek.

You didn't mind feeling your clothes getting damp because he was wet from the rain, you just wanted to focus on the kiss that had taken so long but was happening.

It was slow and needy, and that made the feelings of the boy in front of you clearer. Because Sunghoon was kissing you with such need, holding you with such fear that you would leave and slam the door in his face. Sunghoon needed air, he needed to stop kissing you, but it was impossible. And he knew from the day he started fantasizing about it, that he stared at your mouth for too long.

He knew that as soon as he kissed you, it would all be over. He would have to give himself up as he was doing now. Letting out a moan when you plucked up the courage to touch him, tangling your fingers in the wet hair at the nape of his neck and tugging on it when Sunghoon decided to press his body even closer to yours.

"I'm sorry" he whispered against your lips, catching his breath long enough before kissing you again.

Blindly you walked backwards – without letting go of him – into your house until Sunghoon closed the door, turning your bodies to press you against the cold marble that separated the inside of the house from the outside. Protecting you both from the rain.

"I'm sorry, y/n" he repeated when the kiss stopped, his forehead pressed to yours and keeping his eyes closed.

You opened your eyes, looking at his face and now noticing the points you hadn't noticed before.

In addition to the hair falling on his forehead from the rain, his lips reddened from the kiss you shared, his eyes looked bright too. Sunghoon thought that the rain could mask how much time he spent crying in his room, he just didn't count on you knowing him well enough for that.

"I hope you're saying that because you wet all my clothes, not because you kissed me."

His laugh made you smile, leaving another kiss on Sunghoon's lips, from which he took longer than usual to pull away.

"I meant—" you kissed him again, interrupting anything else he might have said.

"Let's go upstairs and change and you can tell me, okay?"

"Okay" he was relieved by the sweet way you were handling the whole thing.

He felt he didn't deserve all that treatment as he went up to your room and stood so as not to wet the bed, waiting for you to find something for him to wear.

It wasn't a big surprise that you had some of your father's clothes because men's sweatshirts were always more comfortable. Sunghoon also had some of his father's, even if that man had to be put out of his mind for the moment.

"Do you mind?" you smiled at him as you brought the garments closer together.

"No" he smiled in thanks "I'll be back in a minute" Sunghoon walked to your bathroom and closed the door behind him to change.

Not that you minded the delay, he knew he'd have his own time to take off the wet clothes and put on the dry ones you'd delivered. But it was inevitable not to think about the last week as Sunghoon looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Noticing how sad he was, reverberating his father's own words in his mind: the real reason for ending all the good feelings he had with him. It triggered a series of bad feelings and the boy only realized it after realizing what a foolish thing he had done by taking you away from him.

Sunghoon had never wanted this to happen, on the contrary, your presence in his life had become the lighthouse he needed to guide him every time he thought of losing himself in the negativity that surrounded him. He hadn't regretted for a second saying the things about his father to you, but he felt ashamed that he had let that man make him fragile enough to lock himself in his own room and live isolated even from his own mother.

You're not going to cry about this, he thought as his eyes threatened to sting again. Sunghoon was ready to go out and find you, all he had to do was run his hands through his hair remove any remnants of raindrops, and take a deep breath before leaving. And so he did.

He found you leaning against the headboard with the remote control in your hand, inside that sweatshirt that he was sure could fit one more of you inside. Your eyes turned away from the TV and your fingers stopped pressing the buttons on the remote when Sunghoon finally appeared.

"Are you all right?" he knew you would ask, and at any moment a decent answer would have to come, other than ignoring you as he was doing.

You allowed yourself to be walked to your bed, not caring when he lazily threw himself over your body, causing you to fall back on the mattress to the sound of his laughter.

"I'm not" he said, lying down on top of you before rolling over to lie next to you "But I'm staying" now the touch of his hand was warm, and it would be even warmer after Sunghoon snuggled under the covers with you. And he didn't even need a verbal invitation for that, the boy had already pulled back the covers so he could get even closer.

His heart felt a little more at peace when your hands touched his face, a caress against his cheek that he so desperately needed. Closing his eyes and letting himself be carried away by the sensation of calm that this brought into the poor heart of the man in front of you.

"My dad" Sunghoon said after a while in silence, knowing that he was the one who had to start the conversation. You were there to reassure him, to make him feel safe and a little better. And since that was happening, it was only fair that he explained himself "He's a big jerk, to be honest."

"Do you want to have this conversation?" the softness in your voice almost made him cry again, feeling guilty for having tried to push you away.

"I do. You need to hear it from me" he opened his eyes without any effort to find your eyes already staring at him. When you nodded, he knew he could continue what he had started at that moment "He's always been rude to my mother, he's always tried to control my life and hers. And the divorce was only in a state of denial because mom thought about how I would feel" silence from you as he spoke, continuing to caress Sunghoon's face with every word "That day he came here, it was to say that he wanted to go back because he heard from my mom that I was supposedly dating."

At that moment, your cheeks burned and you were thankful that the light in the room was illuminated only by the television and, from time to time, the light of the thunder that still echoed outside.

"I didn't allow it to happen and we started arguing. He threw a lot of things in my face and how I would be just like my mother and ruin any shit that came into my life" Sunghoon's voice wavered, he knew he would cry if it wasn't for your lips slowly kissing him. In a strangely good way, it calmed him down, and he didn't let you pull away until he had another kiss "I know I pushed you away, I pushed my mom away too. But it made me very afraid."

"What were you afraid of?" you whispered.

For a good few seconds, the sound of the rain and your breathing were the only thing you could hear. Sunghoon slipped his arms under the blanket so that he could wrap his arms around you, taking advantage of the fact that your mouth was still close enough to kiss once more.

"I was afraid my father was right" if it were possible, he wanted to merge his body with yours as he held you so tightly against him, afraid that you would throw him out of your house "That day I was going to kiss you in the living room, tell you everything I was feeling because I couldn't hold back any longer. But he ruined everything. I ruined everything."

"Hey, hey, hey" you kissed him slowly, ending up with your mouth next to Sunghoon's ear "You didn't ruin anything."

"What do you mean no?" he said back, waiting for you to return to your original position facing him "I pushed you away, I didn't answer. But it's because I was scared, you know? All this is new to me" you wanted to say that you understood why this was mutual "I didn't know how to deal with the proportion of these bad things and I pushed away the only person who guides me through this idiotic darkness of fear, insecurities, and love."

"Love?" you had a half-smile on your face.

Sunghoon's eyes widened when he realized that, in a completely strange way, you were rambling and declaring yourself at the same time. You laughed when he tried to wriggle out of it, saying he didn't know what you were talking about.

"I think we can figure it out together, what do you think?" feeling him so close was giving you a comforting sensation. The smell of Sunghoon getting more and more into your sheets.

"Please, because I don't want to be without you anymore, y/n," he whispered, and it was Sunghoon's turn to move closer and put his mouth to yours "You're the lighthouse of my life, and I've felt lost and confused during this time. I think I need you by my side for all the moments, not just the bad ones."

Sunghoon, in one movement, pondered the weight as it hung over your body and stared into your eyes with every word that came out of your mouth. He saw you smile at that, smiling back.

"Then I'll guide you, Hoonie."

That was all he needed to be able to kiss you more deeply and never let go. Because Sunghoon knew he needed you the second you came into his life. And saying out loud that your arrival was a lighthouse to guide him was surely the best thing you could have heard that rainy night.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[luveline]

hi jade !! this is me resending my hotch request bc of ur recent post 🤍 i sent the one about hotch taking care of bau!reader who has a really bad stomachache, thanks so much, i think you’re amazing 💞💞💞

thank you for requesting angel! fem

You do this sad thing with your hands when you're in pain. Aaron wishes he didn't know your tell, that he'd never had reason to understand it, but he does. Your fingers, in particular your pinky, curl toward your palm frenetically, and he has an ample view of your closed off face in the chair opposite. He can pin the moment he knows you're in pain down to the minute twitch of your lip. 

He peeks at Morgan where he lays on the couch before leaning across the table to touch your arm. The jet offers little privacy, so Aaron tries to be delicate. 

“L/N? Are you alright?” 

“Mm,” you hum, too high-pitched to have come out the way you meant it. 

“What's wrong?” 

“Nothing.” You say this, and yet you can't open your eyes, leaning less than subtly away from him as though your pain is catching.

Aaron keeps his head down as he stands so as not to attract attention. You've sat near the wall, leaving an empty seat for him to sit in. “Hey,” he says, touching the crook of your elbow, wanting to fix it, soothe the twitch from your hand, “you're in pain.” 

“It's nothing.” 

“Saying it won't necessarily make it true,” he says. 

“It felt worth trying.” 

He is genuinely perturbed to see you in pain like this without explanation. “You have to tell me what's wrong.” 

“Hotch, I…” you say, your voice wrought with embarrassment as you open your eyes, “it's just my stomach hurts. That's all.” 

“Sharp pains?” 

“Just hurts. Nothing dire.” 

“How do you know?” he asks. 

“Happens sometimes.” 

He puts his arm around you, careful not to jostle your back. You're tense as a rubber band about to snap. It's unlike you to be the more rigid of the two of you, less foreign for Hotch to have softened, especially when it's you. “How often?” he asks, wary of the tears brimming like silver at the corners of your eyes. 

“Just sometimes, I don't know.” You speak in a concise, panicked tenor. 

In this line of work, it could be anything. Not eating enough, not having time to stop for breath. You could be thirsty, sick, anxious, stressed into pain. It could be purely psychosomatic or you could be injured. He can't remember you taking any blows during the last few days away. It could be your period. You might not want to mention that. 

“Y/N,” he says, falling out of boss mode now he's sure it's not going to kill you, and into someone who cares for you, “what can I do?” 

You shudder a breath, slouched under his touch. “It's not that bad.” 

It's clearly a shocking amount of pain. Your shuddering worsens as he pulls you into his side. He's prepared to sit with you until you can give him better instructions, or until the pain passes, or, God forbid, things get worse. “I'm here,” he says, rubbing your arm gently. “Try to breathe.” 

He's wondering why you might think this amount of pain is normal, or acceptable. Wondering why he shouldn't just call for medical assistance here and now, but then you start to come around, your face shining with perspiration. “Oh,” you sigh, wiping your face with your sleeve, leaning into your hand, hiding. 

“Is it getting better?” he asks. 

“I think it's anxiety or something.” Your breath slips out in disjointed huffs. 

He can't guess what it is. Have you been to the doctor? he wants to ask, but perhaps in a moment, when you're steady in yourself again. “From the jet?” 

“No. Maybe.” You frown. 

“Jack doesn't understand that I'm on a plane.” 

You lift your gaze in confusion. Aaron moves onwards.

“He doesn't understand that this is a plane. I brought him by, once, to try to explain why I can't always answer the phone. It's thick metal, you know?” It was an easier explanation than having no signal in the sky. “But he didn't get that it was something that could move. I had to take him to the airport. We watched…” He slows as your eyes meet his completely. “We watched them take off for hours. Now he doesn't get so angry when I don't answer.” 

“Jack was angry?” you ask, half incredulous. 

“A bit.” He tries to string the story together before you can realise what it is he's doing, his arm curling around your from behind, fingers making the most tenuous of circles into the very side of your stomach. A barely there sort of comfort. “It's not like him. He reminds me of his mom when he's angry.” 

Your smile is a physical relief to see. “Does he have tantrums?” 

“Doesn't every kid?” 

You talk about Jack in dulcet tones while he tries to keep the pain at bay, his arm steadfast behind you, your faces closer than they have any platonic business being. He'll pester you into doctors appointments when you touch down, but for now, he just holds you and talks to you like everything is normal. 

You cover his hand with yours when the pain starts anew, talking through it, pain in the soft line of your bottom lip. 

“Am I hurting you?” he asks. You give him a weak smile. He feels awful, but it makes his heart race. So close, and so pretty, and so upset. “Is there anything I can do?” 

An embarrassing amount of weight lies in ‘anything’. You shake your head, whispering, “Nothing. This is enough.” 

Aaron pulls you in closer and wraps both of his arms around you, hiding you from the others, an aimless attempt to protect you from a pain he can't touch. Someone puts a cup of tea on the table for you, but otherwise you're left alone for the rest of the flight. 

[torawro]

WHEN BLADES CLASH, SO DO HEARTS. ( r. z. )

roronoa zoro & bounty hunter!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is portrayed as a black woman who is on the thicker / curvier side but you do not have to imagine it that way ! you are free to imagine the reader how you wish. canon divergent au (lowkey implied post-timeskip -> zoro is still a bounty hunter and never became a pirate). bc it's canon divergent, zoro will have both eyes (i know, i know). mentions and descriptions of alcohol consumption. canon-typical violence (i.e., mentions of weapons). light(ish) descriptions of blood & injuries. so much [sexual] tension between reader and zoro that it's palpable. contains sexually explicit content including smut (descriptions of it from an omniscient pov). gets kinda poetic at the end but y’all already knew that was coming. somewhat proofread.

word count ━━ ! 4.8k

notes ━━ ! my first published one piece fic on my blog . . . you'd think the first one would be about law since my current theme revolves around him but alas, this swordsman was prominent in my mind…i did lose motivation at some point but i still pushed through. this fic was originally something i drafted up to serve as the prologue for a much longer fic i'm writing (no hints, sorry < 3). and i thought writing this purely for contextual purposes would help with that longer story, but in the process it just turned into something else all on its own skskkskks so this is a modified version of that blurb. obvs this is also my first time officially writing for zoro so i’m a little nervous and to be honest, i’m not sure if i even like how this turned out…..regardless, i hope i portrayed him well enough (pls be gentle with me) >< also wanna dedicate this fic to naj, a mutual of mine who became a friend, but unfortunately deactivated her blog some time ago. she's been helping me with this drabble and the longer story i plan to write and i really appreciate her. reblogs + commentary are GREATLY appreciated ♡!!!

SHAKING OFF THE GRAVELLY SAND that haphazardly clung to the fabric of your pants, with little effort and practiced precision, you swiftly returned a large metal rod back into a black carrying bag before swinging the straps over your right shoulder. Rolling your arms to relieve some of the tension that resided in them proved to be a little painful, leading you to conclude that you most likely pulled a muscle somewhere when fighting the unknown men who had just attacked you. 

Said men were now lying unconscious on the ground, hardly breathing and within an inch of their lives. 

You didn’t kill them ━no, of course not ━ that would be a fruitless endeavor. Besides, you were well aware that your energy would be well-spent elsewhere, like searching for the next poor soul that had a bounty looming over their head. You were like a hunting dog, the scent of your next target set in front of you by the wanted posters littered around in each city or island you traveled to. Much like how the grim reaper awaited in the shadow of someone who stood inches away from the gates of death, you too would bide your time until the right moment to strike.

You took pride in the fact that the glint of your weapon would be the last thing that reflected in the eyes of your target.

The end result of your fight, if you could even call it that, was as chilling as the evening breeze that was brought forth by the wading waves of the ocean. You have made your mark on the flesh of these men, reopening some old wounds and creating new ones that would certainly scar forever. On levels of the skin and of the spirit.

With a heavy sigh, you adjusted your bag again as you walked towards the cluster of little lights nestled beyond the trees, within them existed this main island’s largest town. Your facial muscles didn’t so much as twitch as the pointed heel of your boots dug into the skin of your unconscious assailants— thinking nothing of their drowsy, muffled grunts of pain or the stark contrast between stepping over doughy bodies versus stepping on the hard earth.

The waxing crescent moon only slightly illuminated the dirt road as you made your way to the populated village, occasionally swatting away a fly or two. Soon enough, the mouth of the semi-dense woods opened up to reveal a wide gravel road. Across the opening was a bridge that stood over a flowing stream, and beyond that was the town. It was a cluster of buildings of varying heights lined up neatly street by street.

Lamps hung on every corner, street pole and ledge that would allow it, bathing all that rested under them in a pale yellow glow. It was quite pretty at night if you were being honest; and judging by its looks and atmosphere, you were sure that they’d have a nice inn around somewhere.

But first, a drink. And some food, you added as an afterthought, but mostly a drink. Your body could use a bit of external help to unwind after spending the last few days at sea.

It didn’t take you all that long to find out where the town’s bar was located, and you wasted no time ascending the steps that led to the double swinging doors. The clacking of your boots against the wooden floors upon entering the establishment were more or less drowned out by the chatter of the rugged-looking individuals who more or less made themselves at home.

And yet, despite the dozens of conversations that bounced off the walls of the tavern, the stares of everyone whose line of vision you crossed seemed to be louder. Much louder than any fit of raucous laughter or profane shout that surrounded you.

Your ears were even able to pluck out a few conversations. Hushed inquiries of familiarity, musings of what could possibly be in that bag dangling on your back, how the pants you wore emphasized the fat of your ass just right━ all things you let roll off your back and pretended not to hear. 

If it weren’t for your more reserved nature, you would have slashed that the throat of the man who made that salacious comment the moment it left his dried lips.

You took a random seat at the bar, not really paying attention to who sat on either side of you. Placing the cowboy-style hat you wore next to you and your belongings at your feet, you patiently awaited for the bartender to make her way down to where you sat. 

As you waited, you crossed your legs, one fleshy thigh over the other, absentmindedly twirling one of the bulky silver rings that encased your middle finger as you wondered what drink you were in the mood for today.

It wasn’t until several moments later, when your body and mind stilled enough, that you’d take notice.

Something felt . . . weird. ‘Off’ was probably a better word for the strange weight that suspended itself over your muscles. Whatever it was, whatever feeling or presence you sensed, it had your fingers twitching towards your bag laying idly against the table. And it only continued to linger in the air as the minutes dragged by.

The sound of the barkeep’s voice pulled you back into the plane of reality and away from the realm of your overactive mind. “What’ll ya be having tonight, honey?” She was an older woman, probably around the age of fifty but looked much younger, had deeply tanned skin, and peppered black and white hair that was pulled into a bun and rested at the base of her neck. 

“Hmmm . . . whatever your best cocktail is, I’ll just have that.” 

With a nod and an amused smile at you allowing her to have free reign, the barkeep turned around, set a shaker aside, and got to work preparing a drink of her choice to serve to you.

Then, something flashed in your peripheral vision.

It was so fleeting that you could have easily dismissed it as nothing had you not been on somewhat high alert already. It flickered in the reflection of the metal canisters that sat along the back wall of the bar. And whatever it was managed to startle you enough to jump start the pulse in your chest into a panicked overdrive so fierce that you heard it in your ears.

The frantic beating of your heart  never showed on your face, however━ your expression remained neutral. It needed to be for a woman in your line of work. Perhaps especially because you were a woman in your line of work.

Without any warning or indication, the cold sensation of polished steel licked and nipped at the warmth residing in your neck. The sharpened end of a blade rested on the jugular of your throat, pressed firmly enough that if you moved forward even a little bit, a stain from your blood would surely blossom on the katana.

“You…” a deep male voice spoke, sounding rough and rugged all around its edges. The rest of the pub seemed to fall silent at the man’s utterance of that one word, rather than his blatant display of threatening you with a sword. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes were the only thing that moved. Slowly, with a frosty gleam underlining your gaze, your eyes landed on the sword’s master, his name immediately flashing in your mind. His reputation as a bounty hunter sent a chill down the spines of both marines and pirates alike. Residents all over the four seas feared his name, and his name alone could cause people to question if the threads of their lives would be severed by the piercing edge of his sword.

“Roronoa Zoro….” Your tone was leveled and held an air of disinterest as you talked. You spoke as if you were tasting the very syllables of his name, taking the time to roll each combination of letters against your tongue. They tumbled from your lips with a smoothness you weren’t entirely opposed to━ it was almost pleasant, if you were being honest with yourself.

A practice you didn't normally engage in.

Upon identifying the swordsman aloud, a short wave of hushed gasps from the customers surrounding you filled the air. With speeds that almost seemed abnormal, the long metal pole resting in your black bag suddenly ended up in your grasp, one end of it hovering several inches away from Roronoa's neck; such speeds even caught the mint-haired swordsman off guard. “Getting a drink, of course. Isn’t it obvious?”

Before he could even part his lips to reply, the piercing shing! of steely iron being brandished cut through the thick tension that settled in between you. A long and heavily curved blade abruptly emerged from the blackened rod in your right hand, and oh so conveniently arced around Roronoa's neck, momentarily silencing him. 

The weapon you carried was a scythe, one with a retractable blade meant to disarm your opponent’s perception and therefore hinder their judgment. A scythe that was reminiscent of the tool Death used to carry out his grisly duties of executing souls and dragging them to hell.

In this position with the scythe’s blade practically wrapped around his throat, if need be you could swiftly behead him, or at least mutilate him; judging by how quickly he unsheathed his katana, his reflexes were pretty sharp. Still, the potential ease of killing Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro— in addition to the mild bewilderment reflecting in his eyes and the patrons’ silent gasps once they pieced together who you were— caused your lips to tick upwards, but your countenance remained otherwise stoic.

“And I’m assuming you’re here for the same reason. That, or you just couldn’t get enough of me during our last battle, and you tracked me down for more.”

Your previously dry tone had somehow morphed into one with an airy lilt, followed by a quiet chuckle that bubbled in your chest when you saw Roronoa's brows twitch and deepen with ire at your subtly teasing words.

You were referring to the last time you saw the swordsman on some obscure island that took root in the Grand Line; an island whose name currently escaped your memory. With you being a bounty hunter as well, your job was the only reason why your paths have crossed so often, and why you have come to know Roronoa on a more personal level such as this. Each time your gazes clashed, it would always result in an inevitable battle, which indirectly fanned the flames of an unspoken competition between the two of you.

If his current expression was anything to go by, this bar may very well be your next battlefield. “You lost that fight, remember?” He emphasized his point by digging the sharp edge of his blade a little further into your neck, the increased pressure causing your eyebrow to all but twitch, “Or did I hit you too hard last time we fought, and now you’re suffering from long-term memory loss?”

The edges of an insufferable smirk curled at Roronoa's lips— one that conveyed his confidence in his abilities and matched the glint in his eyes that began to grow hungry for a brawl. And now, the corners of your own lips broke into a small, amused smile— or perhaps it would be more accurately referred to as a sneer— and you responded by mirroring his earlier movements.

Pressing the sharp end of your scythe into the back of his neck, the blade was met with the resistance of the corded muscle residing there, and your gaze eagerly drank in the brief glimmer of pain that was but a ripple across his arrogant expression.

“I didn’t lose that fight. It was a draw, at best. Seems like you must not remember the excessive blood loss on your end. But anyhow, tell me something pirate hunter…” You uncrossed your legs to stand up and took one step closer towards Roronoa, careful not to let his sword further nick your skin even though it was already dangerously close to you, “How many bounties have you collected since we last saw each other? Three? Two? One?”

Your voice descended further into a teasing whisper, and Roronoa's indignation only grew with each number you hurled at him.

The samurai didn’t take your tone lightly, and perceived your step forward as something of a  challenge, one that his nerves and heart and bones pleasantly vibrated to the sound of. So he too took a step forward, away from the piercing curve of your scythe that hung behind him like a shadow.

Roronoa was a little taller than you were, so meeting his gaze meant angling your neck upwards whilst he simultaneously moved his face an inch closer to yours.  “You think you’re hot shit, huh? Try five, sweetheart.”

Your nostrils flared involuntarily at his bold claim, and something . . . something warm prickled underneath your skin at his referral to you as sweetheart. For some reason, that word━ especially coming from his lips━ was a bit harder to ignore compared to other comments about you from this bar's patrons. And what they said was far more conflicting than a simple term of endearment; even if the 'endearment' in question was so obviously meant to be condescending.

“Is that right? You think you're such a badass, don't you?"

"That's 'cause I am."

Roronoa's mocking sneer was punctuated with a step forward into your space this time; any closer and the front of your clothes might graze each other. The swordsman pushed the boundaries once more by adding a little more force onto the grip of his katana, enough to finally break the bonds of your umber tinted skin.

A barely decipherable noise of amusement and veneration rumbled in his chest when your blood dripped on the length of his sword, but your reaction was nothing more than an involuntary clench in your facial muscles.

"Yeah?" You questioned him with a glare and a tilt of your head in the direction of his blade that uncomfortably sat at the opening of your skin. The tightness in your voice was meant to goad him, but it also contained the sparks of a challenge━ and of something else you didn't want to identify━ that ignited in the pit of your stomach with an increasing amount of fervor.

"Yeah." His voice descended a little lower into a place that killed the next sentence on the tip of your tongue.

Your eyes then narrowed as you held Roronoa's taupe gaze, his overconfident words floated in the silent air between you like a speck of smoldering ash, ready to burst into something more intense and fierce the moment it touched the ground.

Then you shifted your cold gaze elsewhere, opting to let it lazily roam around the room. Everyone was staring at the both of you with uneasy expressions and anxious stares. You could tell that even at the slightest movement from either you or the swordsman would cause the panic bubbling beneath their skin to flood forth in waves.

If there was one thing about you, you preferred to be to discreet. It made your job a whole lot easier, and more enjoyable in the long run.

A hummed vibrated behind your plump lips and your glare returned to his. "Let's take this outside, swordsman. I'd hate to ruin this nice lady's establishment with scuff marks and your blood."

Roronoa huffed a scoff, the amused smirk from before uncurled into something more animalistic. "That's funny. But sure, I'm down. When I defeat you and spill your blood on the ground, it'll make perfect fertilizer for those little plants I saw outside."

You huffed at his cocky attitude and accompanied it with a roll of your eyes. Your stare pierced him for a moment longer before you rescinding it, along with your scythe that was still outstretched towards him. The mint haired swordsman followed suit after another beat or so.

"That's about as likely as a fish growing legs and walking on land." Your voice was thick with sarcasm as you fished out a cotton pouch from your bag; it was small in size, but heavy with Berry. As you slipped out a couple of bills to pay for the drink that sat idly forgotten at your seat, another hand forcefully placed several bills down on the counter.

That hand belonged to Roronoa. You had to force yourself from letting your irises linger too long, or else you'd start thinking about how rugged, calloused, and veiny it looked.

With a newfound general annoyance at both him and yourself, you proceeded to present the bills to the bartender, who looked as if she was one muscle twitch away from ducking under the table behind the counter. You offered something similar to a sympathetic smile to assuage whatever she was feeling.

"Don't bother." Roronoa called out.

When you turned around to greet his voice, he was sheathing the sword that he previously drawn and made his way to the entrance of the pub.

"What are you talking about?" As you inquired, the swordsman still allowed his back to face you, hardly pausing to properly address you.

"I said, don't bother." he repeated in a stern tone, as if that was going to elucidate exactly what he meant, "Now come on. I'm itching to cut you down so I can go lay down."

And without adding anything further, Roronoa eventually exited the bar and disappeared behind the doors.

You were starting to lose count of how many times you narrowed your eyes at the green-haired man, but your stare━ both equal parts vexed and confused━ rested on the doors he had just walked through as if glaring at them long or hard enough would summon him again.

With a sigh, you turned back to the thin stack of Berry he left on the table, eyeing it suspiciously. You weren't sure what he ordered or how much of it, but it look like quite a bit of money he'd just randomly tossed next to you.

Was he insinuating . . . . that he paid for both of your drinks? Could this be what he meant when he told you not to bother, because he already covered it? Such a gratuitous act of kindness, something seemingly so simple caused that weird fluttering to bounce against the walls of your stomach again.

Picking up your bag, you continued to poke and dissect his actions in an attempt find meaning in them as you tipped the barkeep, once more ignoring the stares of nearly every person in that building as you left.

The moment your heeled boots dug themselves into the ground, your peripheral vision was bombarded with something being swung in your direction at high speeds. Before you could even process what it was, you instinctively leapt out of the way, your neck jerking backwards to further avoid the object.

A grunt filled your ears, already knowing the origin of the sound. "Nice reflexes."

You exhaled an exasperated breath of air, turning your gaze to meet that of the mint-haired swordsman who had begun to unsheathe a second sword out of the three scabbards hanging from his hip.

"Can I at least breathe first? Set my stuff down perhaps?" You asked wryly, almost unimpressed, but you didn't waste any time removing the straps of your bag to set it down on a nearby barrel, still cursing the pirate hunter under your breath all the same.

"Didn't know you were that eager to eat dirt." The familiar hiss of your scythe's blade erecting from the rod sent a pleasurable chill up your arms. You held your weapon tightly at your side, your grasp around its length tightening ever still when Roronoa began to square his stance. Even when you were several feet away from him, you could still clearly see the crease in his brows becoming more prominent; he began to resemble some kind of beast.

But that glimmer in his eyes held no real fire in them━ at least not the one that would lead to anger; one could even say it was one of wild excitement. The swordsman already knew his thirst for a worthwhile fight would be sufficiently quenched once more.

"Shut up." With a grunt, Roronoa pushed off the balls of his feet to launch himself into a powerful sprint towards you. It was clear he wanted to close as much distance between the two of you as quickly as possible. His movements were reminiscent of his brief display of swordplay earlier in the bar, where he was one swipe away from slitting your throat.

He was fast, but the gritty and often dangerous nature of your job honed your reflexes to be faster.

Your spine bended as you briskly leaned backwards to dodge the double swipe of Roronoa's katanas. The sound of the sharp blades cutting through the very air around you. With it only inches away from your nose, it was enough to replace the blood pumping through your veins with pure adrenaline.

Using the momentum from your quick dodge, you allowed your back to curve into a bridge and kicked upwards into a backflip to move out of the way━ the corners of your lips twitched into a satisfied grin when you felt your foot collide with his jaw and chin.

Once you were upright again, you wasted no time lunging forward in a sprint, you body much lower to the ground than Roronoa's was. Your plan was to slash his legs to throw him off balance, but that plan quickly evaporated like smoke due to his quick recovery and immediate realization of what you were doing.

"Tch." Your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth in annoyance when the swordsman was able to leap in the air in time to avoid your attack. He was high enough that you had to crane your neck to see. With that much height, the next blow was sure to be one with quite a bit of force behind it.

"Two-Swords Style, Nigiri...." The swordsman's orotund voice descended far from where he was suspended in midair, and you braced yourself for his next attack, "....Tower Climb Return!"

The following clash of piercing steel against metallic iron was deafening, swallowing up any other noise that reverberated around you. The sheer impact of Roronoa's attack created a thin ring of dust that encircled both your figures and violently buzzed against the pole of your scythe.

You gritted your teeth to remain footed into the ground, but the force was too much, and that shit-eating grin nearly unfurling at his lips was too annoying. It shook the steadiness in your legs and caused you to tumble back by several yards. By steeling your thighs and calves you willed yourself not to fall, huffing with effort and frustration.

It hadn't even been that long since you've last fought Roronoa, could he really have made noticeable improvements in a short amount of time?

Regardless of the answer, you weren't about to allow him the chance to prove himself.

The both of you then darted at each other again, your motions a bit more cutthroat this time, and a newborn determination to strike down the pirate hunter further fed the burning adrenaline that coursed through your body.

Reaching your arm backwards, you performed a horizontal slash that Roronoa parried almost instantly. With effortless control and graceful dexterity, you reached both arms behind your back and twirled your scythe between your fingers, shifting the weapon from one hand to the other, and attempted to cut him again.

He blocked that attack as well, the tip of the blade just inches away from his left eye. You saw something moving fast in your peripheral vision, and immediately jumped backwards to avoid the katana that was about to release your intestines from the confines of your stomach.

It was always a pain fighting Roronoa because he wielded multiple swords at once, which means battles with him were more drawn out than they needed to be.

You lunged at him once more, and began to administer a barrage of horizontal, vertical and diagonal slashes in rapid succession. Your constant switching from one hand to the other, in addition to its length and the impressive control you exerted over your limbs, you were able to create a variety of fluid, long and short-range attack patterns, barely allowing Roronoa enough time to parry.

The moss-haired swordsman was keeping up with the relentless flurry of your attacks quite well━ for a short while at least. Roronoa lost himself in his own inner monologue of searching for an opening wide enough to immobilize you, and before long, a red cut blossomed on his semi-exposed chest, the injury lazily drooling blood.

The amount of cuts both deep and shallow began to increase, tearing his skin asunder under the weight of your blows. Your scythe repeatedly made contact with the elongated ha of his katana as well as his tanned flesh, but it wasn't enough to deter him completely.

It should have been though, but the many encounters you've had with Roronoa reminded you that he was no ordinary man.

Within that bombardment of the numerous slices and projectile slashes of your scythe Roronoa had found a millisecond of respite, and used that brief pause to leap backwards and put some distance in between you two.

You weren't able to hear the aching cry from the muscles in your arms until after you halted your attack, but the adrenaline flickering in your gaze still raced around your irises unceasingly. Roronoa's own gaze was hard and unyielding, glistening with something you couldn't discern from where you stood. But even so, your body somehow knew to feel like malleable putty under his stare; it's as if it was instinctual.

And again your blades clashed against one another, a steady rhythm rose from the cacophony of noises that were generated from your battle with the swordsman. Your laborious breaths became synchronized with each other, heavy and full of effort. The thin splatters of blood became homogeneous with each other as the both of you took turns cracking each other's skin open. Your limbs moved about and against his in a deft fashion and every nerve in your body reacted to his.

So much so, you didn't even realize when it happened.

Your duel with Roronoa had been in the forefront of your mind entirely that you hadn't actively processed the moment when your ragged breaths turned to breathy pants. Nor did you realize the moment it was no longer a scythe and katanas clashing, but wet lips and warm extremities instead. That same glint that shimmered in your eyes all evening never faded even then; it still twinkled through the murky mist of lust that clouded yours and Roronoa's vision.

Whenever your eyes collided with that of Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro, an inescapable battle would always ensue━ it was tried and true, and it felt more like a promise. It was also true, although not externally expressed, that your fight with the mint-haired man was one that neither of you even wanted to evade.

With each brawl you learned something new about Roronoa, and you were repeatedly met with the reality and veracity of his skills, his reputation full-force. And when your brawl eventually led to the languid but hungry removal of each other's clothes, you learned more about Zoro, and the emotions hiding underneath his taut and rugged body. This learning curve was both all-consuming and tenderhearted, and you couldn't help but shiver at the fact you were the only one who could witness it.

And what good is a fight if he didn't learn from and about his opponent as well? Each new thing he unearthed about you was an incentive to further indulge your soft and fleshy curves, and observe how they seamlessly molded with firm, corded muscle. Completely unexpected, Zoro had become utterly fascinated with the warmth that resided under your icy, expressionless glare.

And when Zoro peeled back a new layer, when his lips hovered over an uncharted area of your skin━ hot, breathy, filled with groans of expletives intertwined with your name━ when the grip of his calloused fingers and his heavy cock simultaneously dug deeper into you, one leg dangling haphazardly off his shoulder, when your bodies meshed just like that, you moaned━ you knew you didn't want to stop fighting with him.

Again and again and again with each thrust, each roll of his hips, each sightless grope of your body, you knew you would gladly continue participating in this unspoken competition. You'd proudly don cuts and bruises if it meant you and you alone could have Roronoa Zoro like this. You'd keep at it with enthusiasm if it meant that your hearts would always collide so wholly with each other, not being able to tell where his ended and yours began.

( # ) @icy-spicy @godjo @tetzoro @triangularz @pookiesatoru

[crosscheckings]

the passenger - screening and q&a with carter smith | horrorigins fest 9/28/24

so there was a screening of the passenger at horrorigins fest in tucson, az over this weekend that had a theater screening of the passenger and then a live q&a with carter smith afterward!

there were some really good questions and there's some video on horrorigins instagram (here and here, they haven't posted a full but i know there were several people recording and the festival is ongoing through today so they may post full video later) but some highlights:

he reiterated a lot of things that he's said in interviews about the script (so i won't go into detail about that)

he talked about his background at FIT and how benson's wardrobe was extremely intentionally chosen, and that the costume designer wanted to kill him bc the exact shade of his cardigan took three times to dye to get it right, it's also acrylic and very itchy (he has one too lmao)

he said that he gave johnny and kyle freedom to improvise on the script as much as they needed/wanted but that for the most part they stuck to it

burgers burgers burgers was a convenience store that they cleaned out and the stuffed animal place was in an actual empty mall that was "abandoned" (he mentioned there were like 7 empty malls they could have used, this one was completely empty so they didn't have to shut it down but idk if it was abandoned in the traditional sense)

he talked about the close ups and how much he loved kyle and johnny's faces and how he could shoot the whole thing in close up

the script was originally called "Randolph Bradley" which he did like but marketing didn't think would grab people and he also likes The Passenger for the movie they ended up making

i wish they had given the audience members mics when they asked their questions bc i'm watching the recording back to make sure i don't misquote something so i can't really hear some of the questions :( they also didn't upload the whole thing as of yet so the rest of this isn't verbatim but:

he agrees that at its core its a love story! when i asked my question i said "i wanted to touch on the love story comment from earlier" (bc someone else briefly mentioned it before asking a diff question) and he was like "i ALSO want to talk about the love story more!!" and was very excited that i brought up that "there's obviously a queer undertone to the film" and he just talked about what he saw in the script and how that came about, again said that jack stanley was like there's no romance but carter was like ummm anyway

he said that "this was the best thing to happen to either of them" (randy and benson) and agreed with someone who had described them as two sides of the same coin

he said that blumhouse also wanted them to lean into the weird romance aspect of it (or were okay with it), kyle was incredibly down to lean into the weird romance and was like "can we make it MORE gay"

afterward the fest went to a bar and mostly everyone went! so we actually got to hang out with carter just me and my friend and we talked a little bit more about the film and just other movies that he's enjoyed, we talked about his weekly newsletter, just random stuff like that. some highlights of that:

he said that kyle was all in on the queer undertone and was like can i touch johnny MORE

he said that there is a scene where benson touches randy again in a way that is similar in vibe to the scene in the mall parking lot where he touches his neck/wipes his tears but that they ended up cutting it because he (Carter) felt like it would undermine the emotional impact of that particular touch! he didn't expand on what the touch was or where exactly it went (he said it was after the teacher but didn't specify if it was after shepherd or mrs beard but i imagine he meant shepherd)

carter said that he would absolutely do a full up and down queer movie with kyle (if it was ever the right fit rather than writing a role for that reason)

it was really great and so interesting to hear his thoughts on the film and on filmmaking as a whole! he is really friendly and super nice and really knowledgeable. he had so much good stuff to say about the industry and he couldn't get enough of praising johnny and kyle both for their performances (rightly so) and what a good time he had making the movie.

bonus:

carter was kind enough to sign my poster (which he reposted the picture of on instagram). (i go into more detail about this event and stuff here) he also gleefully took photos of the saint randy and saint benson candles i made (because i am insane) and said he was going to send them to johnny and kyle because they would love them. kyle also reposted the picture of me and my friend the festival posted of us with the candles so now i am just dryheaving in my room. <3

anyway! support your local film festivals!! without horrorigns this wouldn't have been possible so support local and indie filmmakers and local and independent film festivals! <33

[orphicdreamers-wp]

Girl Of My Dreams — Mat Barzal

Summary: In which Mat Barzal inadvertently falls for the oldest Hughes sibling and her brothers aren’t happy.

Content Warning; Taylor swift 1989 isn’t by Tay(its by reader) Mentions of University of Alabama (reader went there) Trevor Zegras being hopelessly in love with reader. Readers social media face claim is Addison Rae bc idc she’d clear as a WAG for a athlete.

Pairing: Mat Barzal x Hughes! Reader.

Mat would be lying if he said he didn’t sneak glances at the announcers box after meeting you. You had been carrying a plate of food and two margaritas to your booth where your friends sat. Tito had made a joke about you seeming familiar then the pair heard your voice and knew, “Alright now, eat up because y’all are bumming me out.” Mat’s jaw slacked, “He’d known that the Islanders had gotten a new game announcer who was a girl but he wouldn’t have known it was you. You were effortlessly stunning, you had captivated the attention of every straight man in the bar. Mat had approached you as you sat at the bar, “I’m Mat, can I buy you a drink?”

You grinned and spoke, southern accent slipping out, “I’m Y/N, I mean Barzy after the way you played last game? You better buy me a drink. ‘Yknow how many hate comments my broadcast got?” Mat grinned as the bartender approached you, “Another Corona Light and whatever she’s having on me.” You grinned sheepishly, “I’m fucking with you. I’ve heard worse.” Mat grinned, “So now would probably be a shitty time to ask you out?” You smiled at him, “Maybe not.” Mat smiled, “If I may, your not from New York are you? Where are you from?” You grinned, “I grew up in Toronto with my 3 younger brothers and moved to Alabama for college and been in New York for a few months now.” Mat grinned, “Well welcome to New York beautiful.” That was a year and a half ago. You still hadn’t told your brothers who your boyfriend was, just that his name was Mathew. Until your album release came creeping in and you wanted to go public with Mat.

Instagram

ynhughes; my album ‘1997’ is now streaming! thank you for all your support(especially the bf, ‘slut’ and ‘suburban legends’ are 4 us)

barzal97: celebrating you is my favorite pastime. i have never met someone who people gravitate towards more than you. you are by far the most wonderfully amazing woman i know. it is a privilege to say i love you🤎 this past year or so has changed my life. you make living easy and so so much better. i can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you.

trevorzegras: alexa play that should be me💔💔

ynhughes: forever in awe of you mathew barzal. amazed a gal like me is lucky enough to be adored by you🤎

oliviarodrigo; THEY HIT THE PENTAGON!! @conangray

>conangray; told you it was them i saw at radio music hall!

ny_islanders; our roman empire is all the sweet posts for to y/n today🥹🥹

sydneyemartin: brb crying. the purest people in the world. so grateful my girls get to grow up seeing a love this pure that isn’t their parents.

>ynhughes: we adore your girls more than words can express.

_quinnhughes: my biggest inspiration is out here killing it. in awe of you everyday sissy🥹 thank you for being my best friend from day 1

ynhughes: in a puddle of tears quinny. thank you for always being on my side, even when im wrong.

sabrinacarpenter; hockey players making me ugly sob wasn’t on my 2023 bingo card

elhughes; my first babies🥹 extremely emotional over you all today

>_quinnhughes: we love you momma💕

jackhughes: 1997 reasons to love my meanie head sister, i guess her bf’s alright

ynhughes: i love you little brat, come visit me and mat!!

>jackhughes: will do, sissy🫡

trevorzegras: i can’t believe she won’t date me 😞😞

>ynhughes: buck up z, your way too young for me. perfect age for @sabrinacarpenter tho!

lukehughes: the worlds best big sister came out with the best album to date

ynhughes; really feeling the hughes love train today, i need to plan for all of us to be together soon! so y’all can meet Mat!

etnow; this just in; the Hughes brothers have brought tears to my eyes supporting their sister

barzal97: the third picture is actually the most accurate representation of your sister now

>lukehughes; always messing with those darn cats! even if they are on the side of the street.

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field X

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: hi all!! i have some slightly annoying news (I'm so sorry) but i think i have to close my taglist for this fic and for other coryo stuff (which i am working on bc I've seen the requests!!) bc its gone up almost 150 people and i can only tag 50 people per post and it is SO much work to tag everyone individually even after i paste them in and i don't want to have to reblog it 2 or 3 times to tag everyone :(. I'm so sorry like i said ik its annoying but if you'd like to be the first to know ab new parts and you're not already in my taglist, feel free to turn on my post notifs!! that way you'll also see everything else including my asks ab the fic where i answer more questions and we talk theories and all that fun stuff :)

next part

Coriolanus was having a hard time adjusting to the life of a peacekeeper, but he was getting there. He sent off that letter for you almost as soon as he arrived, but was yet to receive a response so that seemed like an answer enough. He had to forget you, especially if he wasn't going back to the Capitol anytime soon.

He was homesick, to say the very least. Both of his bunkmates were out, likely working, but he didn't care much to know exactly where. He was just relieved to have a moment to himself to wallow in his self-pity, chest constricting tighter and tighter with every breath.

A door slammed shut down the hall, followed quickly by his own door opening- at which he held his breath. He had to get it together.

"Is this bunk taken?" Someone asks, a voice not belonging to either of his bunkmates, but he recognizes it nonetheless.

He shot up straight, taking in the appearance of the boy in front of him. "Sejanus!" He had never been happier to see his classmate, hopping out of his top bunk to quickly give him a hug.

"This is a surprisingly warm welcome for someone who almost got you killed." Sejanus chuckled, hugging him back.

Coryo laughs slightly, pulling away and grabbing his shoulders. "Oh, no. Quite the opposite. What are you doing here?"

"About the same as you." He shrugs, sliding his things under the bed below Coryo's. "They were going to expel me, but my dad paid them for my grad certificate and let them send me here. They got a new gym on the condition that they let us both graduate."

Coryo should be relieved, but a graduation certificate doesn't matter much if he's stuck here for the next twenty years. "And Y/N/N?" He asks.

"Y/N?" Sejanus asks, lifting his head back in confusion. "What about her?"

"Did she graduate too?"

"I... I don't know, I didn't know she was in trouble. We were told she was sick."

Coriolanus's stomach drops. That's a story he'd certainly heard before, and he didn't like at all how that ended. He swallows, nodding a little bit as he looks at the floor. "So you didn't see her at all?"

"No... Not since the last time I saw you." Sejanus states. It had been a few weeks now. "But, her mother came to our door a week or so ago, real early in the morning. Ma shooed me away but I heard them talking, it seemed like she didn't know where Y/N was either. She was looking for her, wondering if any of us had seen her."

Again, this is what Coryo had seen before with what happened to Clemensia. Her parents weren't allowed to see her at all while she was in the hospital. "I think she's dead." He admits.

"What? What makes you say that?" His friend gasps.

"I... I heard her screaming when I left our meeting with Highbottom." Coriolanus explains. "At first it was normal Y/N screaming, you know, but then it got worse and worse until it just... stopped." He hoped Sejanus would change his story, that he would remember seeing you at school or on the streets or at one of your parent's obnoxious parties, having a good time, and being yourself. That maybe he had just forgotten, but the look on Sejanus's face tells him that didn't happen.

It was Sejanus's turn to look down now, giving a solemn nod. "I mean, no." He laughs suddenly, shaking his head. "They wouldn't kill her on campus- if you could hear it, she's not dead. They wouldn't kill her just like that, right?" He says, trying to convince himself of that truth. "Surely she's just sick. Maybe grounded, or something."

"Yeah, yeah. Probably..." Coriolanus concedes, hoping that somehow Sejanus was right.

Simultaneously, you were adjusting beautifully to life in District Twelve. You got in the habit of borrowing Lucy Gray and Barb Azure's clothes, and they let you sleep on the floor between their beds. For the first time in your life, you were free. No one knew you, no one had a single expectation of you besides Tam Amber appreciating your help with the goats and occasionally going to the market with Lucy Gray and Maude Ivory to get food. It was refreshing, to say the very least. Everyday you felt yourself unwinding more and more.

"Do you play any instruments, Y/N?" Maude Ivory asks you, skipping to catch up to you as you hike down a trail out to the lake with the rest of the covey.

"I do, actually." You nod at her, a small smile on your face. "Try three."

"Three!" She claps excitedly. "What do you play? You'll have to perform with us! Do they have different instruments where you're from?"

"Not really." You giggle, putting your hands in the pockets of your bright red skirt. "I play the piano, and the violin, which is just like Clerk Carmine's fiddle, but much more boring, and a harp, if you've ever heard of that."

"You play the fiddle?" The young girl smiles.

"Not like he does." You smile at the boy as he walks ahead of you, not paying any attention.

"I'm sure you're just as well." Lucy Gray interjects, bumping her shoulder with yours as she walks next to you. "Maude Ivory, you should hear her projection. I'm yet to hear her sing, but boy, can she yell."

"I can't sing." You laugh, shaking your head. "Back home you don't sing unless you're training for the opera, and you have to start that around the same time you learn to walk. My parents would rather me learn the piano."

"Then why am I the one yellin' at all our shows? You should step up." Maude Ivory giggles, and you just shake your head, ruffling her hair.

"I definitely couldn't do it nearly as well as you." You insist. "Besides, I have stage fright." You joke, mostly to get her off your back.

She laughs as she fixes her hair, running to catch up with the kids in front of her.

"She just adores you." Lucy Gray smiles. "It's nice to have a new face around."

You smile, watching Maude Ivory collect flowers from the side of the road. "She reminds me of my brother. They're about the same age."

"Right, you lent me his guitar." Lucy Gray says, a particular sadness in her tone tipping you off that she believes you should be upset about leaving him. You miss him, sure, but he's better off now with you gone. Besides, he couldn't be any worse than you. Your parents have always doted over him, and there's no doubt in your mind that now that you are gone, it's multiplied.

"Yes. That's him." You reply, accompanying a moment of silence between the two of you.

"Do you miss him?"

"Sure." You nod, kicking a small stone down the path in front of you. "But he's better off without me there. That brings me enough peace to sleep at night."

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." You smile at her, grateful for the change of topic.

"What happened to Coriolanus?" For the first time in weeks, you feel a pinch of discontent in your gut at her question.

"I don't know." You lie, shrugging your shoulders. You don't even know why you felt the urge to lie at all, you knew he was here somewhere but you hadn't seen him once. Out of sight, out of mind is what you have been trying to convince yourself. "He's alive, I'm sure. Peacekeeping in one of the districts probably."

"Oh, I was hoping you would know more."

"It would be nice." You agree. "But he's not exactly in my good graces at the moment."

"It feels so out of character for him to betray you like that, doesn't it?" Lucy Gray asks.

You laugh, shaking your head. "It was unusual. That's what I thought, anyway." You sigh, giving a slight shrug. "I haven't told anyone, but we had... I don't know, a moment, a few weeks ago. During the games. Just a couple of days later and he's throwing me under the bus like I meant nothing to him. We've been friends for years- I thought everything was about to change for the better, and then..."

"That's cruel." She says disapprovingly. "I bet he's sorry now that you're gone with the wind. He's regretting it. I promise you that much."

You smile slightly at the thought, allowing yourself to entertain it, if only for a moment. "He better be."

"Is that for me? Oh, c'mon y'all, you know that I gave up drinkin' when I was twelve..." Lucy Gray says, taking a sip out of the clear liquor bottle someone in the audience handed to her. "Oh, It's to clear my pipes, just to clear my pipes." She clarifies, tossing the bottle back into the audience.

Coriolanus watches leaning against the side wall of The Hob. He's happy to see that Lucy Gray is back to doing what she loved, and she made it home alive and well. He's also more than pleased to finally get off the barracks for something other than work. "Now, who's ready for a song, huh?" She smiles, looking down off the stage to her right. "Okay, comin' right up. First, I'd like to introduce to the stage with a big welcome, a grand ole friend of mine, The lovely Sage!" She says, giggling at her rhyme as another girl climbs up on stage, giving Maude Ivory and Lucy Gray a quick hug each.

Coriolanus looks away as the crowd cheers, scanning the crowd for Sejanus who had just excused himself to grab a drink a couple minutes ago. He's wondering where his roommate could have disappeared to when Lucy Gray's friend starts speaking.

"Well hello, everyone, so lovely to meet you all! I have never felt so welcome anywhere." His head snaps back to the stage. He'd know that Capitol accent anywhere, even as you pause to allow any cheers to quiet down. "I mean that." You grin, hands clutched to your chest. "And that feels so good, considering Lucy Gray all but forced me up here." You laugh, draping an arm over her shoulder, letting her take back over. How could this be real? Coryo is tempted to rub his eyes or pinch himself to make sure he's even awake. He was so sure you were dead, but despite the different name and completely different clothes, he was positive it was you. The pang in his chest made that obvious, along with the wave of surrealism that suddenly surrounded him so all he could see was you.

"Now, my beautiful girl Sage here will be taking over for our friend on the fiddle, we'll give the band a quick break, and we're gonna have a bit of a change of pace while she's lending us her talents." Lucy Gray says, and Coriolanus watches as you take the beat-up violin from the young boy gratefully. He knew you played, but he hadn't heard it for years. You looked so calm, something he wasn't sure he had seen in public since you were young. He can't pull his eyes from your figure as it graces the stage with your presence, lighting up the room even if it was only for him.

A small smile grows on his face as you start to play, several whistles echoing through the room before Lucy Gray even joins in with her singing. He wants to scream, to cheer and clap and yell and tell everyone in this dark, rundown building that this 'Sage' was his. Inarguably and undoubtedly his. Coryo's pride is only curtailed when he recognizes the song; it was the ballad Lucy Gray played in her interview on your brother's guitar.

The sophistication your violin playing brought to the piece almost made it sadder and infinitely more haunting. It's beautiful. Now with your classical touch, the song sets a pit of guilt in his stomach. That somehow, even without you singing, it's now a ballad from you to him.

"Just let me remind you what I am to you..."

He makes eye contact with Lucy Gray as he shifts his gaze away from you. She pauses for only a moment, hands still moving rhythmically over the strings of her guitar. She smiles and nods at him, jaw slightly agape as she glances back at you to see if you noticed him. When it's clear you haven't, she gets back on track with the words within only a moment.

"'Cause I am the one who looks out when you're leaping. I am the one who knows how you were brave..."  Your lips turn up in a small smile as she sings, eyes still shut while you focus. Even though he's sure you're thinking of him, it doesn't bring him much consolation. Well, at least you were thinking of him. He would take it.

The song ends as quickly as it starts, and despite the slower tone, the audience is still excited. More so as the band returns to the stage and you return the violin to Clerk Carmine before turning back around to give a bow. You wave out to the audience, reveling in the whistles and praise before reaching out for an extended hand, accepting it as its owner helps you down. "That was stunnin', where'd you learn to play like that? I've never heard anything quite like it." The man asks, still holding your hand out in between you.

"Oh, thank you. I've been playing my whole life." You grin as the music picks up again.

"Can you dance like you can play?" He asks, lifting your arm to spin you.

"I can certainly try." You laugh, going along with it as he pulls you into a more open space of the crowd, and to Coriolanus, it seems like you're taunting him. You're dancing like you don't have a care in the world, dressed in a skirt that looked like it was made out of a red bed sheet cut up and stitched back together in half-hazard squares, and what looked like one of your t-shirts cut up into a tank top that exposes most of your stomach and back. Appallingly too, a smile present on your face that he had dreamt of seeing again one day but was certain he never would. The only problem is that you're dancing with someone else. Not that he was much of a dancer, but he could try if he had known that's what you wanted.

He's planning his method of attack. He can't leave without speaking to you, because he doesn't even know if you'll be back here the next time he gets a day off. Though, based on your appearance and newfound carelessness, it's likely.

His urge is just to kiss you, but the only thing holding him back is that it could set you off. If you hadn't heard his apology from miles away, would you still be angry at him? But actions speak louder than words. He knows that physicality works with you, and it was hard to deny that he hadn't dreamt of how soft your lips felt on his for weeks. One time was just simply not enough for Coryo.

Coriolanus scowls as the man you're dancing with spins you again, making you laugh as he drapes an arm around your waist.

Maybe he should get Sejanus, see if he's seen you yet.

Another spin, and a hand sliding lower down your bare back as the man pulls you closer, his fingers landing on the waistband of your skirt. When was the last time that scumbag had so much as washed his hands? Coryo wonders to himself, rage boiling up under his skin.

Kiss her. Definitely kiss her.

But if the song choice was any indicator, you definitely weren't pleased with him. It couldn't be, though, because how would you know he would be in attendance? Coryo finds his feet carrying him through the crowd, pushing past a dozen carelessly drunk people in his effort to get to you before he's even thought it all through.

Your brow furrows as a body forces itself between you and your dancing partner. "Hey! What are you-" You cut yourself off, hypnotized by the cold blue eyes staring down at you.

That's my girl. Even though you're angry, Coriolanus is grateful to be the object of your gaze once more.

"'Scuse me, man, do you mind?" The man says, making an effort to push Coryo away. He turns, and before you can intervene he's swinging his fist right at the other guy's face, finding its target in a fraction of a second.

He stumbles back, grabbing his face as it immediately drips blood from his nose onto the floor. There are gasps in the crowd as it disperses around you.

"Hey, settle down, settle down now." You hear Lucy Gray call out amidst the music playing in the background while you grab the back of Coryo's shirt, pulling him back before he continues to beat up your dancing partner.

"Coriolanus, what are you doing here?" You shout over the music. He shakes out his fist, turning back to you now and grabbing your face, pulling you closer to kiss you instead of dignifying you with a response. His actions would certainly speak louder.

You want to be angry, but that falters as you feel his lips on yours again, his hands planted firmly on either side of your waist as he holds onto you so tight you weren't sure breathing was an option- even if you could. You followed him here, of course you wanted to see him, but how could he betray you so easily and expect forgiveness in a kiss?

It takes you longer than it probably should to build up the courage to place your hands on his chest, shoving him back. "What is wrong with you?" You spit, looking him up and down in the blue uniform signified of a peacekeeper off duty.

"What's wrong with me?" He asks, looking around and gauging how many people were even taking notice. "What do you mean, Y/N/N, I wanted to-" Clearly you hadn't heard his silent apology, or it just wasn't enough.

"Hey!" You hiss, jumping at him and attempting to cover his mouth at the use of your nickname, and he quickly swats away your hand. "Let's go. Outside, now." You shove him back by his chest, pointing towards the exit.

You look up at Lucy Gray on stage, still singing as she watches you nervously. You give her a nod and a small reassuring smile before linking arms with Coryo and guiding him toward the door. Just like old times.

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