#last three just mentioned but eh

[maxarat]

Magnus Chase OC Time!!! They're valkaries except Diklah who already had a post so this doubles as a Valkyrie post :)

Monika Leitner and Saoirse Mac Ghabhann!

Monika was born in 1919 to a German daughter of Bragi in the Rheinland. Her dad was an Algerian man who fought in the French army and was sent home soon after Monika and her twin brother were concieved. She died in 1936 in a street fight against some local boys. She easily gets tired, especially of explaining her world, and can be a bit crass, but she's actually a sweetie with a great sense of humor and filled with jokes. Her relationships with canon characters are as follows: she's friends with TJ, and they helped her a lot on her hair journey. They're t4t found family realness. Monika is head over heals for Gunilla. At first she thought "I can fix her!" Now she thinks "I've fixed her 😊" but she did not lmaooo. She also has a found family relationship with Samirah, who she's constantly defending. Also she's Diklah's valkyrie.

Saoirse very much has eldest daughter syndrome. She was born in 1907 and is a perfectionist in the extreme. She's constantly taking charge and if you're doing anything slightly wrong she'll do it for you. She doesn't mean to be like this, but she gets stressed easily and thinks it will help. It doesn't. She's extremely protective of anyone and everyone, a fact that's gotten her killed a few times. In 1925 she tried to rebel by becoming a flapper, and died three years later breaking up a bar fight. She was Mallory's valkyrie.

Here's Gunilla and Sam!

All the valkyries call Gunilla the Ice Queen. The younger ones tend to do it as a compliment and out of intimidation. The older ones do it mockingly. They aren't afraid of her. Monika says it like a simp.

Samirah is a transfemme nonbinary lesbian and her family are #allies. Also they don't shorten their name because the Americans can deal with it and is dating Mallory

@jasontoddssuper

[ichorblossoms]

googling bee anatomy shit for monstery yarrow purposes and sitting here like. yeah this ain't gonna work i gotta make this up on my own or just straight up not go with that idea

[mycological-mariner]

God you ever cant remember whether or not you took a medication? On the one hand you don’t wanna flood your system if you DID, but on the other you really don’t wanna fuck around and find out what happens if you didn’t.

[sabraeal]

hii, I’m still the hakuouki anon, i do like sanan but I agree with you that he’s inconsistent and it’s a shame (the thing I actually disliked the most about his route though was kodo just randomly trying to redeem himself like he was talking about locking chizuru up for life then changed his mind?? lmao) Would be interested to know what felt groomy in his route if you feel comfortable sharing your thoughts!! your fave is yamazaki ofc but do you have any other faves? sorry for the rant, hope u have or had a nice day💗💗

I don't actually really care to talk about it, no! I've played his route twice, the last time in 2021, and didn't enjoy it either time, and that's enough for me. I don't really need to relive it through discourse.

Favorite routes is a hard question because I feel like when people ask, it's because they're assuming you self-ship, when I am really just here to make my dolls kiss 🤣My favorite routes are typically the ones where the MC vibes well with the LI, or at least there is a good STORY attached to it. So Yamazaki is my #1 because he's the one route where I feel like Chizuru is seen as a peer rather than like...precious cargo. But there's definitely a few others I really like!

Shinpachi-- the whole set up with them trying to do a whole big brother/little sister relationship that instantly falls apart because the lack of sexual expectation makes them emotionally vulnerable? Chef's kiss 10/10 trope, wish it didn't have the sulk cabin but what can you do.

Saito-- great slow burn with the perfect demi-panic for Saito when he realizes he has sexual feels for Chizuru. This was my favorite route until I played Yamazaki's a couple routes later

Kazama-- after bracing myself for an unapologetic villain fucker route, was pleasantly surprise to find out that his EB vibe is "dog who caught the car." He's got Chizuru and has no idea what to do with her, end up following her to the ends of the earth (aka hokkaido) so that she can have closure

Ryouma-- not actually a great fit for Chizuru, but him and Nakaoka are the best looking men in the game, and the spy vs spy romance Ryouma thought they were living vs Chizuru actually being oblivious was a JOY.

I also enjoyed Heisuke, even though his route overall didn't have the same pull for me the other ones did. Corgis in love vibes are impeccable, but I feel like Yamazaki's route did the whole "shinsengumi's worst soldier" with more emotional stakes, there's a whole chapter that is just retreading angst so that Chizuru and Heisuke don't get together too soon, which honestly would have been the superior choice. It DOES give us the BEST Kazama though, and Kazama/Sen, which kept me well fed through the last half of EB.

[detective4blog]

I wrote a follow up to this because I'm foaming at the mouth

Sebastian stared at the reply and the address he already knew. He didn't expect to get an answer. Maybe assuming that John was constantly busy was a bit stupid on his part.

In his defense, how easy is it to balance being a doctor and an assistant to a detective?

He shuddered at the thought of having a normal job on top of everything he already does. Managing the other snipers within the network, making sure Jim doesn't get his pretty face damaged or killed, take care of the occasional target he gets...

God, doing some other job would either kill him or lead him to more violent urges.

Not the point. He could see John today. He could get the answers to those stupid questions that bothered him all night. He could...act like he was normal.

Damnit.

Sebastian rubbed his face and groaned. He could act normal, sure, but if he wanted to keep talking to John, he had to have a good cover story. God forbid he says he works at a bank one day and the next say he's something else.

Though never keeping a job would fit him. Not the point.

"In-between jobs right now," he muttered to himself. It was the best answer he could have now. Maybe he could get some pathetic sod from the network to spew out a fake identity. It'd be easy considering his "rank" or whatever.

Clothes. Did he have any that didn't smell like alcohol, blood, and gun oil? Probably not. Maybe those nicer clothes Jim buys could work if he managed it. A button up and jeans, and the least stained t-shirt underneath.

He started digging around, tossing the needed clothes on the bed. Good thing he already showered. Shaving wasn't a big concern; besides, people like a scruffy, tough looking man!

...hopefully.

He got dressed, rinsing his mouth with mouthwash as he started getting the regular things to leave the house.

Keys. Phone. Pocket knife. Wallet.

How much money did he have? If things went there, getting a hotel room would be in both's interest. He fumbled through the wallet, scowling at the sad amount he carried with him.

Great. Now he has to stop at the bank and get money from the account Jim deposits payment into. Which will be noticed because he never does this, and then Jim will ask questions and-

Whatever. Cross that burning bridge later, he wanted to be prepared for the best and worst. Good thing he kept condoms in his wallet already.

Tugging on the first jacket that he saw, Sebastian left. He called a taxi, not in the mood to figure out which train he has to board and when. For being born and raised here, he really had no clue about the Tube system.

Curse his rich bastard of a father.

...

Sebastian stared up at the red sign, wondering if this was a dream. He kicked the side of his leg to check, wincing slightly.

Not a dream.

"'Bastian?"

His heart nearly exploded. From being surprised or an ungodly amount of joy, he wasn't sure.

There was John, wearing a nice jumper. Looking like a piece of sunlight captured into a human vessel. Eyes bright with happiness, lips curled into a grin...perfect in every way.

Say something, dumbass!

"Hey, doc."

I'm fucking hopeless. "Doc"? Real original! I'm sure he's never heard that one before-

John laughed. He was laughing at that shitty nickname, head shaking slightly. He was laughing and it sounded like it would be the call of an angel, not the laugh of a regular human.

Sebastian had absolutely no memory of going inside the cafe and sitting down but at some point, that occurred. He prayed that he wasn't just staring at John the entire time like an idiot.

"So, how are you?" The doctor asked kindly, hands wrapped around a cup of tea. The blonde laughed a little, wetting his lips nervously. He still wasn't used to the scar tissue over his lips that disrupt the texture.

"I'm alive, at least. In-between jobs right now, and surprisingly single." He answered so easily, a crooked grin shifting onto his face.

More of that honeyed laughter. "Really? I thought out of everyone I knew, you'd settle down first."

I would've if I didn't fall into a fuckin' pit and-

Sebastian cut his own thought off by laughing in return, shaking his head. Bits of his hair curled around his shoulders now, bringing that smell of fruit with them. "You though that I'd settle down? I got described as a little heartbreakin' bastard by pretty much everyone!"

John shrugged in response, taking a sip of his tea. It was difficult not to stare at his lips but somehow the sniper managed. "You were the one who'd muse on about living in the country with your partner."

He remembered that?

Sebastian blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Haven't found someone to go off into the rolling green hills yet." He managed to respond, acting like he hadn't forgotten his own damn words. "What about you?"

"It's...difficult keeping a girlfriend with my flatmate. He isn't a...people's person." John explained with an awkward chuckle. Sebastian bit back a comment of agreeing.

"What's that bloke like? I didn't really read much on the blog." He admitted, head turning to the side.

John stared into his cup for a moment, obviously trying to think of a way to describe the detective in a way that wasn't a long rant. "A bit of a know-it-all who knows he's smart and makes sure everyone knows."

Interesting how that was the exact way he'd describe Jim. Though it'd more that he makes it everyone else's problem that he's the genius in the room.

"I see. Hopefully you'll find a gal who doesn't mind your...friend?"

John nodded at the last part, shrugging again. "Maybe. Where are you living? Please say it's not back home."

"Fuck no. I've got a place with Severin. It's a cheap flat that frankly needs destroyed, but it's ours." A complete lie at the moment. He was still living with Jim for the time being. Eventually he did plan on moving out and getting someplace for him and his brother.

"That's good. Tell Severin I said 'hi' for me." John looked relieved by the answer. Sebastian nodded in response, placing his hands firmly on his knees to stop them from bouncing. "Looks like you've seen some excitement. The scars, I mean."

"Oh, these old things? Turns out I'm not the only one who doesn't always fight clean." He couldn't hide the excitement in his voice at the topic of...well, fighting. If he could only have two interests for the rest of his days, it would be space and fighting.

John raised a brow, looking amused. "It helps your whole...tough guy with a heart of gold thing going on."

He thinks I have a heart of gold? I could get him a heart and cast it in gold if he asked.

Maybe he should stop listening to Jim's attempts of dating advice.

He laughed, head shaking a bit. "Sure, it's a golden heart, but it's a pretty damaged one. Dirty, too."

"Doesn't mean you're any less worthy of love, 'Bastian. One day you'll find someone that'll cherish that heart, help you repair it and clean it."

You are making it so much harder to not fall back in love with you, you sweet bastard.

Sebastian felt his face heat up, avoiding eye contact while his heart pounded in his ears. "Right, yeah. Someone that'll cherish..." He mumbled, too flustered to think.

It wasn't even something to get flustered over!

He heard John laugh, the cup be lifted from his saucer, then placed down gently. "Your ears still go red when you blush."

Fuck.

"Good thing I've got hair to cover that up." He managed to say, pushing his hair in place to cover the reddening ears. More laughter from John, pitched so sweetly with lightheartedness.

"God, I haven't laughed this much in a while." The doctor admitted, fixing the collar of his shirt. "You always make it easier to laugh."

I'm going to fucking fall in love with you, stop it.

"What can I say? I'm just gift to all who have the pleasure and displeasure to know me." A signature cocky grin spread, followed up by a playful wink. "It's nice to hear you laugh again."

John's eyes seemed to brighten with something. Sebastian couldn't tell what had sparked in his eyes, getting lost in those beautiful eyes. It was like gazing into a blue crystal ball that carried so many human emotions inside. Grief, joy, anger, regret, love...

"I still have that pendant you made me."

Sebastian's eyes widened, jaw nearly dropping. "Holy shit, really?"

The doctor nodded with vigor, eyes glimmering with memories. "It's been sitting in some little trinket box for the longest time. I nearly forgot about it until now."

You kept the shitty little charm I made you by melting down a pound and burning my fingers trying to put a fingerprint into it...and then failing to do so and just making a weird dip in it?

"That's bloody insane. I mean, I'm glad to hear it but...damn. I should get you a chain for it, it'd be a better keychain or whatever. Maybe a Christmas ornament."

"I'd like it as Christmas ornament. I'll get that taken care of so you can see it if you stop by. We...try to host little holiday parties. Keyword try." John went from overjoyed to slightly dimmed down, likely remembering disastrous Christmas pasts.

Wait. You want to see me on Christmas? Have me over, spend time with me? You're going to make that broken little heart get fixed without raising a finger, John...

"That'd be nice. I mean, I'd be the first holiday party I'd go to willingly. I'd want that to have you there, yaknow?" Was it obvious he was fumbling over his words? Was his face more red or did it just feel warmer? God, this was a blissful disaster.

John brightened at that, nodding. "I'll do everything in my power to make it a good one, then. You'll get to eat some good homemade food if all else goes wrong."

Sebastian nodded, a more gentle smile growing on his face. "I think those girls who left you just because your flatmate is a bit of a dick didn't see how sweet you are."

Was that too flirty? I mean, I'm not trying to flirt or anything but...

John blinked, bursting into laughter after processing what was said. "Ever the smooth talker, 'Bastian!" He covered his mouth to stifle the continuous laughter, face flushing with joy-

Fuck, that's adorable.

Sebastian bit his tongue to keep back what he wanted to say. He wanted nothing more than to spill out all the yearnings and wishes that had been plaguing him all of last night and today.

"Hey, I'm just being honest over here!" Joining the laughter was irresistible, John had a contagious laugh. "You're a bloody sweetheart, mate."

A darker pink tint glowed on John's cheeks, finally managing to get control of his laughter. "I think you're the sweet one here, mate. I mean, you've been like...a ray of sunshine. Just positivity and the works." The doctor paused, brow furrowing. "Or I've been around my friend a bit too much."

Sebastian was still trying to process being called a ray of sunshine to respond, face absolutely burning a dark red. His heart had to be working overtime for how fast it seemed it was beating.

This has to be a dream. It has to be. God, I want to kiss him.

"Pretty easy to be all positive and...sunshine-y with you, doc."

That fucking nickname again? Really? At this rate I'm gonna greet him with "what's up doc" like an idiot!

The banter continued, John's tea getting cold as it was abandoned in favor for conversation. Sebastian lost count of how many times the smallest thing the doctor did or said that made him feel...alive.

He felt alive, like the rush from energy drinks had been put in his system without the chemicals and flavorings. And god was it more addicting than any of those drinks. He felt like he could go a whole week without sleep if he had John with him.

Parting ways felt like removing a bandaid. It had to be done. His cab was by the side, John waiting outside to see him off. Sebastian wanted to linger, to reach out and hold, be held. But he didn't let himself try, getting in the cab and giving some ridiculous farewell with another mischievous wink.

His heart ached for what he knew he couldn't have. If he got what he wanted, it'd end in tragedy. The truth would come out, either from his own slip ups or from either of the Holmes spilling it. Then the way he was perceived would change, be tainted with "innocent" blood spread, and he could never be held in those arms again.

I want to be ordinary.

[logansdoll]

hammered

you get a little too turnt during girls night, and logan comes to your rescue.

CW: heavily suggestive, profanity, Logan's your white knight, Ororo's gettin lit, men are creeps, you're actually drunk as a skunk, etc.

"You guys got together?! Why didn't you tell me?!" Ororo gasped, loudly, sitting up straight in her seat.

Your brows furrowed, eyes widening at her volume, a few passing party-goers sharing concerned looks.

"Say it louder. I don't think the rest of the city heard you..." you grumbled, face burning as you took a sip from your strawberry daiquiri.

She sat next to you on the little leather couch situated at the back of the club near the bar, which had began to trickle with activity.

The three of you had been there for only about thirty minutes, the buzz of the night starting to pick up, the dance floor packed with dancers and drinks flowing.

And the eyes, still staring.

"Ignore her, (n/n)," Jean smiled, kindly, as she rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I think it's sweet you two took it at your own pace. It shows how serious you both are about this."

The three of you were having easy conversation, drinking and gabbing about whatever came to mind, when you and Logan were suddenly brought up.

And Ororo nearly died of shock when she found out you two were official.

"And speaking of seriousness... I believe we have an audience..."

Another group of three in particular, whose gazes were piercing you and your friends from across the way.

The three intense pairs of eyes belonged to three men in their best designer.

They each had their own outstanding feature: the tallest one sitting on the right had long, black hair, while the one on the left had arms roped in tattoos and lip piercings, the final one having a buzz cut and a snaggle-toothed smile.

Their lustful stares all but ignored by the two sitting next to you, your mind preoccupied with downing your second daiquiri that soon turned into a third.

You barely paid the men any mind, already knowing a man ten times hotter than all of them combined.

You actually missed him a whole damn lot.

You both were supposed to have a date night, but he got called last minute to round up Rogue and her friends who were causing havoc at some far off arcade.

So the girls dragged you out to the club, much to your protest.

'The kids just had to choose tonight of all nights...'

Ororo scoffed, gulping down another jell-O shot, "Waiting on him to come?" she chuckled, the flashing club lights making her light eyes sparkle.

You flushed in your mini dress, feeling hot despite the blasting AC and your exposed skin.

"You'll be waiting a while," she sighed, crossing her smooth legs over one another. "I heard Scott over the phone... those kids are in serious trouble."

You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed that he wasn't there, resting his hand at the small of your back, giving you those lustful stares on the dance floor, and complimenting your outfits in his own Logan way.

You'd done so much to make sure you looked hotter than hot, too.

You had raided your closet and pulled out a short, backless mini dress that made your legs look longer and showed off the curve of your spine sliding down towards your ass.

You loved, loved, loved it—how beautiful the black fabric looked against your skin; how sexy it made you feel.

Not to mention it was one of Logan's favorites.

He'd torn it off you many times.

Combined with your stiletto heels, fresh mani-pedi, the perfume adorning your wrists and the back of your knees, and hair that gracefully caressed your shoulders, you felt like a damn vixen.

Ororo sat up, taking your hand in hers, "No sense in sitting around while you wait, eh?"

She smirked at you, mischief in her eyes.

"Let's dance."

You paused a moment, hesitant.

But in that instant, those three daiquiris hit you like a truck, and all inhibitions went out the window.

'Fuck it.'

You stood up, chugging the last of your drink before taking her hand.

"Let's do it."

Famous last words.

Smoothly, you glided your fingers up your body, swaying your hips in rhythm with the beat as Ororo danced with one of the men.

You two had been dancing so well, you called the attention of the entire club. And with you about seven daiquiris in, it felt as if the music was coursing through your veins and melding with your bones.

The men of the establishment were hounding you both relentlessly—Jean having escaped to the bar to strike up some friendly conversation with the bartender—and even with your inebriated state, you fought them off vigorously, smacking away hands and returning advances with a sharp tongue.

Though the novelty was beginning to fade, and the urge to go home had began to set in.

As if on que, your phone began to buzz, taking your attention away from your thoughts.

"Hold up! I'm getting a call!" you laughed. "I'll be right back, 'Ro!"

She gave you a wink before you went stumbling off the dance floor, tugging a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You decided to go to the nearest ladies' room, leaning against the wall where the long line started, before flipping open your phone.

You looked down at the caller ID, grinning to see the name of your favorite guy on the screen.

"Heyyyy, Logan," you sang into the phone with a drunk giggle.

"There you are," Logan let out a sigh of relief from the other side of the phone. "I've been tryin' to reach ya. I just finished roundin' up the kids and droppin' 'em off back home, so I'm free for the rest of the night if ya still wanna go out."

"Oh!" you chuckled, "Sorry!"

As you paused, Logan suddenly became confused.

"Where the hell are you? It's so loud, I can barely hear ya."

You placed one foot up on the wall, leaning your back flush against the cool tiles. "'Roro 'n' Jean took me to the club 'n' these guys tried to join us," you slurred. "Oh, they bought us drinks, too. And one said he liked my dress. He wasn't as good looking as you."

"You wearin' the backless one?" he asked, sounding intrigued.

You giggled giddily in response, finding humor in his quiet curse.

"Damn... ya had to pull that one out?"

"Oh, you should see me, Logan... I look gooood," you smiled, looking down at yourself. "But it's not the same... s'not as fun without you."

You lowered your foot back down to the ground and crossed your arm over your midsection, suddenly feeling cold and small.

"I miss you, Logan," you said, quietly. "Could you pick me up, please?"

His chest warmed at your tone, unable to fight the smirk on his face.

Despite the fact that you were absolutely sloshed, your mind still drifted to him, and even missed him when he was away.

It was adorable.

"Sure, sweetheart. Where are—?" "Wait!" you shrieked, a smile blooming on your face as you got quiet.

Logan cocked a brow.

'Huh?'

It was your favorite song.

"Logan! It's my song! I'll be right back!" you smile into the phone before hanging up, scrambling back to Ororo.

When you shimmeyed back onto the dance floor, she happily greeted you, moving in sync with the rhythm as you began your own moves.

"Oooo, what's that?" you asked, pointing at the glass she was holding.

It was orange and topped with ice and chopped oranges and strawberries, reminding you of a tequila sunrise.

"Want it?" she giggled, holding it out for you to take.

Which you gladly did, tossing it back lie it was water, humming approvingly at the taste as you licked the remnants off your lips.

The two men next to her were close to falling out from the scene.

"Fuck," one of them groaned. "Can you do that to me?"

You turned to them, brows furrowed. "Fuck off. My guy's gonna be here anyyyyy second."

Ororo gasped as she threw an arm around you, pulling you close to her perfume-soaked neck, "He's coming? That's great!"

You both cheered together, throwing your hands in the air as you continued to dance.

"C'mon," a man smirked from behind you. "What's he doing leaving a pretty lil' thing like you alone?"

Your face fell, expression annoyed as you turned to him, "Didn't I tell you to go somewhere? He's gonna show up sooon..."

The man had gotten closer, so close that you could see him lick his lips, expectantly.

He scoffed, leering down at you under the strobe lights, "But he ain't here, is he?"

"I wouldn't put money on it, bub," Logan replied from behind him.

Your eyes lit up like stars as soon as you laid eyes on your dark, handsome bodyguard.

He stood there behind the man with his thick, leather-clad arms crossed over his broad chest, which was covered by his white tee.

And he looked less than pleased.

"Logan!" you smiled, moving to stand by his side like a magnet.

The man turned to face him, watching as Logan snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

"This is the boyfriend?" he laughed, amused.

His words hardened Logan's expression tenfold, and it took everything in you not to giggle.

"Yeah, I am. And why the fuck are you still here?"

His words forced the man's expression to meld into one of frustration, and you bit back an amused smile at the sight.

You were drunk out of your mind, but you knew better than to interfere.

The man swallowed thickly, "I was just—"

"Harrassin' my woman."

You felt your heart flutter at the nickname.

He'd been calling you that for a while, but somehow it always felt like the first time.

"I didn't know she was yours—"

In a flash, his Logan's fist was up, his claws were on display and right in front of the man's face, scaring the shit out of him.

"I don't like repeating myself," he spat, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Fuck. Off."

You both watched the man scatter, eyes wide as he scrambled toward the bar.

Damn.

'What a bitch...'

"You alright?" Logan asked, taking off his leather jacket as he glared around the room, taking notice of the other leering men on the dance floor. "This place is full of fuckin' sleazeballs."

You shrugged, running a hand through your hair, "Eh, I managed."

Wordless, he handed over his jacket, your nose wrinkled in confusion.

"What's that for?"

"You're shivering, (n/n)."

You looked down at yourself, realizing that you were, indeed, shivering.

"Oh."

"C'mon," he sighed, draping the jacket over your shoulders before resting his hand at the small of your back, steering you toward the exit. "I think that's enough fun for one night."

Glancing back at Ororo, he gave a small look, slightly concerned.

"Scott's on his way for you two... You gonna be good?"

"Tipsy, but okay!" she gave him a thumbs up, along with a little wink. "Have fun, you two!"

He ignored the innuendo, but nodded, going back to ushering you out the back door.

"I missed you, Logan," you confessed, a slight whine to your voice as you practically clung to him.

"I know you did, sweetheart," he sighed, approaching one of Cyclops' cars. "Let's get you home."

The moment you hung up the phone, he sped over to the club, breaking about fifteen different traffic laws in the process.

An annoyance he decided to deal with the next day.

Without warning, you grabbed him, shoving him up against a wall of the alley you were in, interlocking your fingers as your free hand traced mindless shapes in his chest.

"You look so good, Logan," you purred, eyeing him up and down with hungry eyes, heating him from the inside out. "So good."

Suddenly, your lips attached to his neck, lazily peppering the flesh with kisses and pecks, with the occasional nip.

"(n/n)... you're drunk," Logan stated, moreso for himself, as he weakly tried to pry you off.

"I'd do this anyway," you grinned into his skin, pulling back to look at him, gaze half-lidded. "You look so sexy..."

Slowly, your lips curled into a hazy, loving smile, your eyes staring up at him like he was the only thing in the world.

Fuck...

You'd think he was about to go into cardiac arrest.

'This woman's gonna be the death of me...'

"What's wrong?" you asked, lips pouty and eyes glassy as you looked up at him, your expression one of hurt. "You're not touching me..."

"Doll," he sighed, voice slightly strained. "As gorgeous as you look... and as much as I wanna pin you against this wall... you're fuckin' hammered. And I'd like to feel you up when you actually know what yer doin'."

He pulled back to see your reaction, only to find you were already out like a light, softly snoring and drooling all over his shirt.

A soft smile fell onto his lips at the adorable sight, the man brushing some of your hair out your face before scooping you up in his arms, pressing a long kiss on your forehead.

'Somethin' else...'

[screampied]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ TWENTY THREE MISSED CALLS — G. SATORU

☆ sum. you had always nagged to your boyfriend satoru to answer his damn phone. it’d always go straight to voicemail—you told him in your own words, ‘toru, what if something ever happened to you?’ but this time, it was far too late.

wc. 1.7k tags. gn!reader, angst, nickname(s) 'baby, angel.'

an. idk how to write angst much but i was sad so came up w this. merry christmas :)

“hey heyy, it’s satoru. uh, you’ve reached the—eheh what does that lady say again…? you’ve reached the voicemail box of.. gojo satoru. leave a message after the beep, beeeeep. heh, bye.”

such a dork.

you lost count of how many times you listened to that automatic message over and over again. the playful cheekiness in his voice, you could just see his smile. the dumb dimples that poke out against both of his cheeks whenever he grinned.

a cute dork. your dork.

besides that though, it’s been at least twenty three times of you ringing him, but to no avail. each time it went straight to voicemail—sucking your teeth in confusion, you started pacing around your bedroom. it was christmas morning, and gojo promised he’d be here before you wake up.

he couldn’t be…

no, he’s gojo satoru. he always wins, right?

right..?

the more you waited, the more impatient you became. the room grew colder and colder, despite the heat being turned on. you sat on gojo’s side of the bed, inhaling his scent, as if he was here right now.

he’d always fill up the room with his loud cologne scents—you’re always telling him how it’s too strong and he always kisses your cheek, muttering, “eh really? i don’t smell it that much, baby..”

the scent was always sweet, a mixture of cinnamon and multiple other spices—you glanced at the roségold alarm clock that rested against your nightstand, the time reading six thirty am.

he still wasn’t here.

it was hard to not overthink, think the worst, gojo was always so good at calming your nerves. you’d be one to constantly overthink. his trick to stop that was to simply hold you in his arms, stroke your hair and tell you in a soft cheery voice, “hey angel, everything’s gonna be okay. i’m okay, we’re okay.”

but again, he still wasn’t here.

gojo mentioned to you before he left last night around midnight he had to ‘take care of something’ — his code word of he’s about to go into battle or fight, but he didn’t want you to worry about him.

that’s the very last thing he wanted. and if anything, he always assured you he’d be okay. even if he was beaten to a pulp by his enemies, he’d always return back home to you with that stupid lovable grin on his face.

so what made christmas day any different?

you swallowed the thick, nonexistent lump in your throat, trying to snap out of your deep melancholy thoughts. dragging your feet,

you rubbed your eyes from the sun just barely shinning through the curtains scattered throughout the house.

with a soft sigh, you made your way towards the christmas tree — the pretty lengthy tree the both of you decorated together last minute, a tiny smile went on your face at remembering how gojo kept accidentally breaking all of the ornaments, so he had to constantly keep buying new ones.

lights, glimmery multicolored lights, a plethora of ornaments and a pretty sheeny star sits at the very top. you sat on your knees, before glancing down at the various presents — one caught your eye, it was a tiny box. a velvet heart shaped box, and gojo told you it was the biggest surprise yet.

you paused, glancing down at your phone that was about it to die soon, wondering why gojo still hasn’t returned any of your calls.

he’s been gone for hours, and the knot in your stomach continued to tighten—it felt like something inside of you was squeezing, tugging you from the inside.

was this what a gut feeling feels like? something was telling you, screaming at you that something wasn’t right.

with shaky hands, you went to his contact for what seems like the millionth time, staring at the image that was his picture, him and you.

the both of you were being goofy, it was a old polaroid picture a few years ago of the both of you during your birthday.

he spoiled you so much that day, but as always he never forgot to repeat how much he loved you.

the phone rang three times and your mind pretty much knew mentally he wasn’t gonna answer, it was a bit foolish for you to continuously keep trying. but something in you told yourself, it’s satoru. he’s gonna answer. anything to reassure yourself, this happens a lot — gojo’s the type of person who always has his phone on silent, or he says he’ll call you back but ends up forgetting.

after a few rings, the same automatic voicemail plays, and just hearing his voice again, no matter how many times — it never fails to make your heart swoon.

“hey heyy, it’s satoru. uh, you’ve reached the—eheh what does that lady say again…? you’ve reached the voicemail box of.. gojo satoru. leave a message after the beep, beeeeep. heh, bye.”

you intake a sharp breath, closing your eyes before bringing the warm phone up to your ear, pressing it against your cheek before speaking in a voice.

a voice you hardly recognized, “…toru?” and you were on the brink of tears, it was easy to hear and you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you but at this point..

was it really worth holding on to?

fifteen long seconds passed and you forgot the phone was still in your hand.

you sniffled, gathering yourself briefly before continuing in a soft drowsy voice, “h-hey, um. i don’t mean to blow your phone up but, you aren’t responding and i’m getting kind of scared. are you okay?”

you pause again, feeling the sting of tears nearly escape through your eyelids before you squeeze your eyes shut, lightly squeezing your left thigh to prevent any more emotions from revealing themselves.

“i um, just wanna say i love you, and i hope you’re okay. i didn’t wanna open my gifts until you got here but you’re taking forever..”

and you manage to crack a tiny smile that purses against your lips—yet after a while, it fades and your heart feels like it’s just walking on egg shells. “but anyway, yeah. i love you satoru, text or call me back so i know you’re alright, please? and just get home safe okay? bye.”

you hung up the phone and a single tear ran down your cheek.

so much time had passed, and he still wasn’t here. it was nearly seven in the morning now, and your dumb curiosity got the best of you—you wondered what gojo’s big surprise gift was.

he wanted you to wait to see your reaction, but you were just so curious, so enthused.

you started to peel the pretty striped velvet wrapping paper off, one at a time, it was neatly wrapped with a perfect red and blank bow tied on the top.

once you opened it, it had a tiny black box, and your eyebrows raised, a note sticking out the side. grabbing it, you revealed it and it read in neat handwriting:

“hi baby!! merry merry christmas, i’m kinda tearing up while writing this, and i know i know you probably just wanna see the gift but first read this ‘kay? just wanna say i love love you so much, and i’m so glad we’ve been together for almost four years now. you mean everything to me, you’re so sweet and kind, always there whenever i need to talk my feelings out, or even if i just need to lay on you and fall asleep. but anywho, you know who loves you? this guy! hopefully i made you smile as you read this, im probably not at home yet but ill be back soon. don’t worry your pretty little head, alright? i love you baby, merry christmas from your honored one, xoxo.”

tears were in your eyes—and it was like you could hear him, he was right, you did manage to smile. sniffling, you placed the note aside before opening the small black box.

once you pulled the top back, your eyes widened, seeing a small coruscating ring. your heart sang, blinking twice to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

gojo was planning to propose..?

the ring was so pretty.

various scattered crushed up like pearls around the top, and once the tears started, they kept streaming down your face. you quickly pulled it out, sliding it on your ring finger and it was a perfect fit — in a frail sob, you mumble, “y-yes, i’ll marry you satoru.”

yet — that’s when you wake up, finally snapping back to reality. confused with tears still streaming down your face, burning.

“satoru?”

no answer.

you get up from the bed, your eyes widen before you look at your right hand — and the engagement ring was still there. a sigh of relief exits your mouth, and that’s when you make your way towards the kitchen.

nothing to worry about, maybe you just fell asleep while opening the gift. yeah, that had to be it.

although, the atmosphere of your house felt different. taking a quick glance in the living room, the christmas tree wasn’t there anymore, it wasn’t snowing, and it was almost as if you lived by yourself.

“satoru?” you called out again, before pulling out your phone — scrolling towards your messages and your heart suddenly sank. the last message you sent him was two years ago, a subtle ‘satoru, it’s christmas and you’re still not here? are you okay?’

christmas…?

you pulled a tab down on your phone — and the date read march 17th. approximately two years later from when you last sent that message, and you were so confused.

but the further you scrolled down, you saw messages from others, sending you their regards and condolences for your loss….loss?

the recent message was from geto — and your last reply was, ‘thank you, i’m doing okay. i just still can’t believe he’s gone.”

. . .

you felt sick — tear after tear racing down both sides of your face before coming to the sudden unfathomable realization.

gojo never came back home for one reason and one reason only. he died a painful death those long two years ago, even though he swore he’d come back to you on christmas.

perhaps everything was all a lie.

sometimes people don’t win all the time, not even the honored one, the love of your life, gojo satoru.

[harunayuuka2060]

Jamil: ...

Floyd: What's wrong, Sea Snake~? You look like you've seen a ghost~! Hahaha~!

MC: ...

Jamil: We're having basketball practice, and non-club members are not welcome here.

Ace: What are you saying, Jamil-senpai?!

Floyd: Yeah. What's with you all of a sudden?

MC: ...

MC: *smiles* I understand, but I was invited by two of your club members, and I couldn't bring myself to decline.

Ace: You heard that, Jamil-senpai?

Floyd: Seashell-chan will be cheering me on from the bleachers~.

Ace: Eh?!

Jamil: ...

*Ace tried to show off his basketball skills to impress MC, but Floyd would do something to make him stumble each time he did.*

Ace: *attempts to do a three-point shot*

Floyd: *reaches for the ball and smacks it away*

Ace: FLOYD-SENPAI!

Floyd: Hehe~.

Jamil: Can you two take this seriousl- *gets hit in the face by a ball*

Floyd and Ace: ...

Jamil: *is now pissed*

Ace: I didn't do it.

Jamil: *smiles* Ace.

Ace: !!!

Floyd: Thanks for the food, Seashell-chan~.

Ace: Whoa! This is fancy!

MC: Feel free to eat as much as you like; I’ve brought enough for everyone.

Jamil: You didn't have to; we brought our own lunches.

The basketball club members: ...

Scarabia student: Haha... I forgot mine...

Octavinelle student: M-Me too.

Jamil: *frowns*

Floyd: Here, Sea Snake~ Have a bite~.

Jamil: I don't want to.

Floyd: Eh...

MC: That’s unfortunate. I made a curry and was hoping to hear your thoughts on it since it’s my first time trying that recipe.

Jamil: ...

Jamil: You could have simply asked Kalim.

MC: I'm worried I can't rely on his feedback alone since he thinks everything is delicious.

Jamil: ...

Jamil: Fine. *tries their curry*

MC: *waits*

Jamil: ...

Jamil: It tastes good; however, it seems you forgot to add lemon juice.

MC: Was it too spicy?

Jamil: Yes, just a little bit.

MC: *smiles* Thank you.

Jamil: ...You're welcome.

The basketball club members: ...

Ace: ...

Ace: Jamil-senpai, would you like to join our-

Jamil: No.

Ace: Hmph.

Malleus: I couldn’t help but notice that you’re trying to befriend Viper. *is helping his child wash the dishes*

MC: ...

MC: It seems I may have gone too far with my actions toward him last time.

Malleus: How so? Didn’t you mention that you did it out of concern for Al Asim?

MC: Yes, but I wasn't aware that there was a deeper reason behind his actions.

MC: Not until recently.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Did you catch a glimpse of his past, dear?

MC: *nods*

Malleus: ...

Malleus: It seems we can't wait for the school vacation; we have to go visit your grandmother.

MC: Is it time?

Malleus: *smiles* Yes.

[tacticaldiary]

A Cracked And Fissured Door

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking."

It stings, if she's being honest. Being kept at an arms length when in public. Most people know about them, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

Masterlist

"If he sends us out before next week I'm quitting." Soap groans, back cracking as he flops down forward on the bar. "Three ops in a week? What do I look like, a machine?"

Gaz snickers, raising his glass to that. "Bloody might well be at this point."

She hides a smile behind her own drink, leaning back into the bar. They had done three ops in a week, mission after mission after mission. It had been pretty rough, just as Soap said and she was more than ready to crash and burn and sleep for three days straight but abandoning their tradition of getting drinks at this specific bar everything Saturday was not something anyone on the 141 was willing to break.

"Just be glad we got the weekend off." Ghost says from beside her. She smiles warmly at him, is rewarded with a slightly blank look.

The flicker of her smile is hid behind another sip.

"Betcha your gonna take advantage of that, eh?" Soap nudges her, looking pointedly between her and Ghost. The latter rolls his eyes and says nothing.

"Only thing I'm looking forward to is an actual mattress." She knocks back the last of her drink and stands, shrugging Gaz's arm slung over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think it's about time we call it a night." Casting a glance at her boyfriend, who merely nods in confirmation and pushes the stool back himself, she nods at the others. "Don't cause too much trouble, boys. Text us when you're home safe, yeah?"

"We just got shot at for a week, don't think a car ride home is gonna be the end of us." Soap snorts.

"You never know." Is all she says before stepping out of the bar with Ghost, who offers her her coat to shrug on.

"Hell of a week." She comments, glancing at him gratefully as she shrugs on the warm fabric.

"Just glad it's over," Simon says simply.

Walking back to their car, she can't help but cast quiet glances at him as they walk. She knows Ghost notices them, chooses to keep looking ahead and keep the silence.

Truth be told, she aches to touch him.

Aches to feel his skin on hers, to feel the callouses of his hands brush against hers. His heat, ever all-encompassing makes her feel safe in a way no bulletproof vest ever could.

"Think I might ask Price to assign me desk duty for a while." She jokes, knocking their shoulders together gently.

To the untrained eye, to someone who might not have been tuned to what makes Simon Simon, it wouldn't have been noticeable, but he leans subtly away so they don't touch again.

She doesn't mention it, but it makes her heart heavy.

It's nothing new. She's not sure why she's even surprised anymore.

Trying again, her arm hangs beside her, purposefully brushing against his gloves. The frown on her face deepens when he shoves his hands into his pockets.

Maybe it's the exhausting week she's had, but it gets to her, infects her heart, mind, and soul with the insecurity she keeps locked behind a cracked and fissured door in her mind.

It stings, if she's being honest.

He's not the most...social person. Closed off and private, but baring her soul to someone she loves and getting so little in return...

Being kept at an arm's length when in public, even though their relationship is not a secret. Most people know, actually, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

The car ride home is silent, but not in a comfortable way their quiet is usually shared. Simon seems to pick up on it, because he grips the steering wheel a little too hard, the tension in his shoulders a little too foreign.

Gaz had no problem touching her. A friendly punch to the arm, an arm around her shoulder. Soap was a touchy person by nature, nudging her and ruffling her hair.

So why was it that Simon always pulled away?

The one person who should love her the most, who should be proud of loving her...why does he pull away and pretend this thing between them doesn't exist.

She doesn't get it, hasn't understood for the past two years they've been together. Pushing was not something she'd considered given his stubbornness and private nature, but there's no denying she's always felt a twinge of hurt whenever he disregards her in public.

Was he...ashamed? Of her? Did he not want to be seen with her?

The thought latches itself onto her, sucking away the usual confidence she carries and leaving her a nervous mess. It makes her sick. Before she knows it they're back home but she can't find herself to walk any farther than the front door that's shut behind her.

He doesn't comment on it, just casts her an inquisitive look before moving to the kitchen in view.

Simon always did like a cup of tea before bed.

"Simon?" The word comes out a little garbled, caught in her indecision, and morphed into something muffled. He hears it, because of course he does, and hums. Doesn't look up from where he's rifling through the cupboards for his kettle.

The air is cold in her lungs, freezes up with nerves, and this is all so ridiculous. It's stupid and she shouldn't be feeling this way but she does because she just does.

Trust was a precious jewel, a diamond only given to those who trusted enough to keep it unmarred. Necklaces and earrings and bracelets, she feels like she could make millions of intricate pieces with the bits of trust she had bared for Simon to take and keep as his own.

Simon knows what she loves, what she hates, how she feels about anything and everything. The rhyme and reasons, the way she ticks, and what throws her off kilter. He knows it all, it's been given willingly and eagerly to the man who took her heart with that rough demeanour on the tarmac two years ago.

She had given him all her gems, the shiniest and the dullest ones, but he's never even been bothered to spare her a piece of coal.

When she doesn't speak immediately, he pauses his movements and sets down the kettle on the counter with a 'clink'. "What's the matter, love?" He straightens up.

"Do you want to be with me?" She blurts out, unable to fathom leaving this conversation for another day. Not when she's so worked up and hurt and feeling.

His face stays blank, and when he responds it's almost as if he's doing it carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked." The sides of her coat are clutched with a knuckle-white grip, nausea making her an inch away from ruining the lovely carpet they'd picked out together when they'd first moved in.

Simon furrows his brows. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's not what I asked." Unease starts to curl up in her gut. "Do you like me, Simon?"

"Of course I fucking like you, what are you talking about?"

"You sure don't act like it."

There.

It's in the open now. Simon stares at her for a moment, shocked or stunned or whatever emotion that causes him to clam up for a moment.

He never really was good at this part of their relationship, but this...it was vital. It was important because she refuses to let this problem define what they have together.

"You don't touch me when we're not alone." She starts, "You act like I'm just no one when we're out together. You barely acknowledge me any more than anybody else, pull away when I try to touch you." It feels good to let this all off her chest. Months and months of trying to figure out what was going on. "Tell me why. I just want to know why."

"I'm a private person-"

"No Simon, that's not what this is." She shakes her head, emotion rising inside her. "You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking. Like I'm...like you want to keep me a secret."

Her eyes are glassy because saying it hurts so fucking much, but it needs to be said. It needs to be voiced, he needs to listen and acknowledge-

"You know that's not true, so it shouldn't be a bloody problem-"

"Do I?" A laugh burst out of her, unexpected and short. It's enough to cut him off, cause him to narrow his eyes. "You've never told or indicated that to me. Not once. Not in two years."

"It's common sense. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't want you." She can tell he's trying to stay level, to meet her in the middle but all caution gets thrown to the wind because is he really trying to argue with her on this?

"No, it's not." She insists, trying not to raise her voice as anger bubbles up inside her. Was he not getting it? Not understanding that this was hurting her? That he was hurting her? "Sometimes I-..." She swallows, "Sometimes I'll be having a great time, like today. I'll be laughing and enjoying myself and then I'll glance at you, or try and do something as simple as brush shoulders, and I'll watch you push me away. Or pull away." Her voice waver but she fights to keep it steady. "And it makes me feel miserable because what is it about me that makes my own boyfriend not want to accidentally touch me?"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He says, hackles raised at being put on the spot like this. Ghost doesn't mean to, but this is all so new to him and the only thing he knows how to do in these rapidly changing situations is to be sharp and jagged and tense. "If you're so miserable, why are you still here?"

"Because I love you!" She cries out. "And I can't help but think that I might never get the same back from you." Her grip on her coat tightens.

There's a beat of silence.

"I never asked you to. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

His words cut through the quiet, as sharp as the blades he keeps strapped to his thigh.

"Oh, fuck you." She whispers. "Don't give me that bullshit. That's not an excuse for not trying-"

"Not trying?" His voice gets slightly louder. "I try every day. I try to be someone you deserve but you're bloody well making it difficult when-"

"Just stop!" She yells over him. "Stop. I'm not asking for something you can't give. I'm just asking for an explanation."

"I can't-"

"You can!" To her dismay, her eyes burn with tears that are bound to fall in a few seconds, but she's too far into it to turn around now. "It's been two fucking years, Simon. Two years. I've never pushed or pressured you, I've listened and sat here and tried to be the one you can come to, but you never do." She sniffles, wiping her tears away roughly.

He stays silent, visibly frustrated but letting her talk.

"Do you know what they say back at base?" She spits out. "About me? They say I've forced you into being with me." A hollow laugh. "That I've got some dirt on you that keeps you quiet, or that I'm just someone you pass the time at night with because everyone thinks that you want nothing to do with me during the day. They talk about why we're still together, why you're still with me when you clearly have no interest." Her tears are long forgotten, left to trail down her cheeks in rivers of hurt. "They say...they say I'm only on the 141 because of our relationship."

And that was what hurt the most. Her own skills undermined like that.

That startles him enough to pull his brows in confusion "I didn't know..."

"Of course you don't, why would they say it in front of the man who looks like he could snap their spines in half?"

She waits for him to speak. To say something, anything, but all he does is stare at her with those half-blank eyes that she can never decipher and it infuriates her because did he not just listen to what she's told him.

"You know what, forget it." She chokes out. "I'm done. I'm fucking done with this." She gestures to them both, vaguely watching his eyes widen with muted panic. Getting shoved into a woodchipper would be less painful than the hurt that tears through her chest, hiccupping on swallowed sobs.

"Hold on-"

"I can't be the only one keeping us both afloat." She reaches behind her for the doorknob. "I don't want that. I love you, Simon. I really do, but it hurts so fucking much when you act like I'm disposable, like you're ashamed of being seen with me."

The door is pulled open by her, and then roughly shoved shut by Simon. He moves quicker than she could register, behind the counter one moment and right in front of her the next. His hand stays firmly on the door, keeping it shut as he leans down to catch her gaze.

"Ashamed is the last thing I am about you." He says quickly, clumsily. "I-...fucking hell that's not right at all, love."

Simon is...he's panicking.

The thought strikes her immediately with the way his chest rises and falls quickly, the lack of that cold clipped grace in his voice.

"I don't care." She chokes on a cry, hands planting themselves firmly on his chest to shove him away. It's like nudging a brick wall. The man is immovable, standing in place with their bodies so close it feels like they're sharing heat. "I'm tired, and you're making it worse so let me go." He grabs her wrists, presses them against himself to keep her in place. His hands are warm, rid of the gloves he usually dons.

She's met with every inch of that scarred face of his. She hadn't noticed but he'd discarded his mask as he'd been rushing around the counter to get to her.

"Listen to me." He breathes, trying to get his thoughts straight and keep her there with him. He can't lose her, can't let her walk out the door because he's afraid that she might never come back. "Please."

It's the last word that pauses her struggle. Simon...he was someone who operated on orders and demands so the frantic and silent plea pushed into the word is enough to make her still for a moment.

And a moment is all he needs.

"I've never..." He thinks for a moment. Never has she seen him look so frazzled. He tries again. "Everyone I've ever loved has been killed." Her eyes widen at the declaration. "My family. My friends...everyone." His breath fans over her face with how he's leaned down, hot so very him. "I think I'm afraid if I show the world I love you it might try and take you from me too." Simon's voice breaks at the end, as if he's voiced something from his nightmares and despite the pain she's feeling the sound slices through her. "And I can't...I can't live with losing you too."

With bated breath, he waits for her to respond. Part of him can't bear to look her in the eyes after the admission but he finds himself staring at her face anyway, drinking in any sign of hope.

Hope. How long has it been since he's felt the warm rays of such a feeling?

Slowly, so slowly it makes his breath hitch, she tugs her hand free on his. For a moment Simon thinks she might push him away again and his heart sinks like a stone, but then her fingertips graze his face, her hands cup his cheeks and suddenly they interlock behind his head, pulling him in.

Simon crushes her into him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering breath of relief. He's not lost her, not completely.

Hope.

There was still such a thing for a man like him after all.

"I'm not going anywhere." She mumbles into the crook of his neck, the feeling of his lips moving on his skin sending a shiver up his spine. "I'm so sorry, Simon. If you'd told me that before I would have tried to help-..."

Simon shakes his head immediately, arms tightening around her. "I chose not to tell you. The thought of coming home and seeing you on the ground...bloody...like them." He swallows past the lump in his throat. "Fuck, I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart."

Simon didn't apologise often, so when he did that means he knows he's fucked up.

She does not tell him it's alright, that she forgives him or that he's fine. Because he's not. His apology, his honesty doesn't make the months of hurt go away. It still aches at her like before, but this time the ache has a meaning behind it. It has a reason.

They hold each other for a moment, against the door, two people knee-deep in a problem that's been brewing for weeks and weeks, bubbled over the edge in the ugliest way possible.

"I need you to try." She whispers after a moment, the barest of smiles gracing her face when he nods slowly.

"I know." He says simply against her hair. Gently swaying in each other's hold, both are content to stay there for a while, to calm their racing hearts with the knowledge that the other is still there, is real and solid under their hands.

And it's enough.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Change is a slow trek to an ever extending finish line.

Simon keeps his word. If there's anything it's good at, it's resilience. Though it makes him antsy and paranoid and dare he say slightly nervous to open such a part of him to somebody again, he tries.

He tried because he'd rather saw his own arm off than be the one who gives her a reason to leave. Not her. Not the best thing that's happened to him in years, the person who's managed to wake up Simon after years of being Ghost.

A subtle brush of hands as they walk.

An arm around her shoulder while they drink.

Thighs and sides pressed together as they take their seats on a heli.

The squeeze of her knee from under the table.

It builds and builds into something warm and new and fresh, a feeling that overshadows all the worry he had about the universe having a vendetta against him because if there was one good thing that Simon Riley wanted to keep, it was her.

Their weekend is filled with conversations, real conversations about things they've kept to themselves, worries and concerns, and moments of hesitance. He tries his best, though some words die on his tongue before he can get them out. She pushes him, but never more than he can take. Heart, body, and soul, she knows him like the back of her hand but he's the only one who can truly let her into his mind.

All that aside Simon also has another more personal task to work through once their weekend is over.

After paying some not-so-nice visits to more than a dozen people (to his absolute fury), she never once hears a peep of another disgusting rumour ever again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(26/07/2023)

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 9

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: sorry this took so long, but i hope y'all enjoy! Can't wait to hear what you think of it 💕

-🐺-

As soon as the chinook touched down, you awakened to scorching Mexican heat and an achingly dry mouth. The hot air left you clacking your tongue in disgust at the tacky taste of sleep, but lucky for you Price was ready with a bottle of water. Barely seconds after downing half of it like a floundering fish, you were hauling yourself out with Gaz. 

You didn’t get very long to look around once out. After taking a precautionary glance around the military base and scoping the dusty buildings, the three of you were soon greeted by a tall smiling man with his arms folded. Meanwhile his stocky, straight faced hybrid companion hung back to his right. You could feel his unshifting gaze on you the moment you’d stepped out the helicopter. 

It was a surprise, afterall it’d been so long since you’d worked with another of your kind. He was a wolf just like you, but his ears were a soft bark like brown and his tail swished straight down the way, perfect and unbroken despite his field of work. When you flicked your eyes back to his you could see him looking you up and down with the same assessing stare. 

“Good to see you again, Captain. Garrick.” The tall man said, beaming at Price and nodding to Gaz before he then tilted his head at you. “And you brought backup, I see.”

“Not backup, Ale. This is Pup - 141’s newest recruit,” Price said, putting a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Pup, this is Colonel Alejandro Vargas and his hybrid partner Rodolfo Parra.”

“Rudy must’ve made quite the impression last time we worked together, eh?” Alejandro said, patting Rodolfo's Shoulder in turn. 

‘Rudy’ raised his eyebrows at that. Clearly he hadn’t expected to have had much of an influence on Price’s new hybrid, but now he was looking somewhat embarrassed at that inadvertent praise. His tail tucked into his leg revealing some of the ombré streak of tan that ran through the back of it and his ears settled low to his head. 

“Well he, more than any other hybrid before, certainly showed me there’s a lot of merit in having a multi-species team,” Price shrugged. “Pup was the one to convince us, took em out on a mission and Pup was solid.”

“Is that so? I look forward to working with you then, Pup,” Alejandro said, directing an easy smile in your direction. “Are you all ready to head to the target location? I can finish briefing you all in the ride over.”

“Yeah, best get on with it,” Price nodded. 

With that, you all walked round to the head of the massive jeep convoy and loaded yourselves in. 

Even after being told it was legit, there was a part of you that had been deeply suspicious that Price had made up a goose chase just to get you out of the kennels all the way up until the ride in the jeep. A little ghost of warmth had filled you at the idea your Captain cared so much. Even when he’d dispelled that once he’d gotten to talking about strategy with Alejandro, you couldn’t help but feel he’d taken you when he might not have in any other situation. Especially when it was likely you’d be forced into all out assault against heavy fire. Some might’ve resented that, but you could only shift around in anticipation, tail wagging around like a cat toy. 

You were all going to be storming through the forest and taking down a cartel in hopes of finding a connection that had another connection through which you’d find the arms dealers that the 141 had been tasked with taking down. Not complicated at all. Well, Alejandro and Price’s explanation was somewhat complicated, you’d almost gone cross eyed trying to follow all the names, but Gaz was kind enough to whisper in your ear and fill you in on the local groups that they were discussing. 

The whole time Rudy watched you out of the corner of his eye. You could see them practically cutting through the mirror. The way he seemed to frown, you could only assume he had some kind of a problem or was at least wary with you. However he didn’t voice any concerns. Merely kept his ears folded downward in obvious discontent. 

-🐺-

“Pup, what the fuck did I tell you? Stay close!” 

Within no time, the forest was like an impressionist painting. Streaks of dark spots dotted themselves in amongst the twisty trees and blended through the foliage before firing and lighting up their spots, forcing themselves to shift once more. 

To the humans you were with, it would be utter chaos. To you and Rudy, it was all background distraction. You could smell the people, you didn’t have to look for them. Even despite the ear protection you wore, you could still hear their shifting feet clumsily beating through the brush.

And so the two of you found yourselves standing over a body, mouths covered in blood, yours plastered with a smirk while he took to a coy smile. The man had been about to take a shot, aiming for either your boys or Alejandro. Though before he could fire he was interrupted by Rudy yanking the gun back and then you diving onto him, rendering the idiot gravely wounded until Rudy delivered a final blow. 

“We make a good team,” you said, cocking your head and listening out for more movements. 

Rudy snorted and turned away. 

“Maybe…but there’s still more work to do.”

When he stalked off you couldn’t help but frown, but ultimately you followed, there wasn’t the time to contemplate why he was so standoffish. There would be plenty of time for that when you and your team weren’t being hunted like an infestation. Not to mention Price was screaming in your ear about checking in and to report your condition. 

“Still operational, Captain,” you muttered. “Making my way back to you.” 

With that you were racing through the trees, eyes fuzzy and losing themselves in the darkness. Your instincts were sharply rising to the surface, the wolf within growing stronger every passing second. It felt like your veins were pumping hot lava. 

There were three men that crossed you on your way back to Price. The first fell to the floor and gurgled before he could even think about lining up a shot for you, the second fought bravely and managed to graze your arm with a bullet and bruise your neck a little in an effort to pull you off. The third had seemingly popped out of nowhere, he had to have been camped in his position like a sand snake. The sneaky bastard was about to land a bullseye, the barrel of his weapon practically kissed your temple. You thought you’d only had enough time to squeeze your eyes shut and draw back your ears.

Lucky for you though, Gaz shot first. 

“Were you listening when Price asked you to be careful, Pup?”

“Course I was. Don’t think that guy was though,” you grinned. 

“Bloody hybrids,” Price grunted through the comms. “You two on me. Now!”

Both you and Gaz joined Price once more and continued on your tear through the forest. More than once you ran into Rudy, but by that point you were too lost in the work to really take note. Blood had sponged into your clothes and dripped off your chin, your muscles were bunched with tension and your pupils felt wide as the moon. That primal side of you was fully present and awake and it had its claws caught so deep, there was a small part of you that worried about being stuck feral. 

All notion of that disappeared when Price commanded you to stop. His hand wound tight in your collar and suddenly your legs lost their momentum. You peered up at him wide eyed and out of breath, soon looking out of the corners of your eyes and searching for hidden dangers. You only made eye contact once you knew for certain you’d both be safe. 

“Easy, Pup,” he said soothingly, running a rough hand over your ears in gentle waves. “Easy. That’s it.”

“Why’ve we stopped?” You rasped, so high pitched it could almost have been a whine. 

“The compound is up ahead. We want you and Rudy with us. Can you follow my commands? Are you ready to go in?”

Price gestured at Alejandro and Rudy who were standing just off to the side of you. Rudy’s chest was rising and falling like a beating drum, but other than that, he looked composed and ready to strike. In comparison you felt like something of a tornado. 

For a few seconds you closed your eyes and breathed, slowly gaining awareness of your own thudding heart and the way the air tickled at the hollows of your ears. 1…2…1…2. You imagined Ghost’s deep rumble telling you to come back to yourself. Instantly your awareness sharpened. You could make out the faded scent of cigars that wafted through every fibre of Price’s being, and in that moment there was no greater comfort than something that had become so fmailliar. 

“Yeah…Ready, Captain,” you said with a gulp. 

Price nodded back at you and then to each member of your small group. Before long you were lead to the front of the treeline, staring at a big concrete eye sore that hid just below the tops of the great Cypruses so that it might stay hidden from the sky. There were a few slitted windows, one small doorway, plenty of opportunity for anyone that might try to get a lucky shot in. You couldn’t help but notice that the whole thing looked like a creature grimacing in pain. 

Alejandro clicked his tongue, then began to speak. 

“Ok, listen up. There’s only one entryway into this thing, so we’re going to need to manoeuvre round and then run like hell and take out whoever we can from the outside before it turns into a death funnel. It’s gonna be armed to the teeth once we’re inside, so we need to be fast and we need to spread out,” Alejandro said, his voice low while his eyes roamed the building. “Gaz and I want you up front with me so we can take shots inside while Price holds up the rear. Then, when it’s safe enough, we’ll send in the wolves to stir up a little carnage. I want you two to team up and take down who you can, overwhelm them and keep them panicked enough that they can’t get a shot on either of you.”

Gaz clenched his jaw as soon as it was mentioned that you’d be going in first. He shot a sharp look over at Price, but your Captain wasn’t giving anything away. You yanked your head around from where he was holding your collar and looked at him, trying to evaluate how he felt about that plan of attack. He was stoic as ever. 

“Let’s do it,” he said eventually, breathing deeply as if to punctuate his decision. 

He didn’t look in any mood to argue. Gaz probably evaluated things that way too because he didn’t say anything, but that didn’t stop him from giving a small nod of his head and keeping his eyes glued to you. It was as if he was saying that he’d be just behind you no matter what he was commanded anyway. 

You offered him a reassuring smile, or something like that as your lip didn’t quite fully curl. Your body was too busy preparing itself for attack, letting go of functions that didn’t facilitate your immediate survival. Your vision darkened by the second, but before your instincts burst fully to the forefront of your mind you couldn’t help but catch a little movement in the corner of your eyes. 

Alejandro wrapped a hand round the back of Rudy’s neck and pulled him close, touching his forehead to his hybrid’s. His lips moved quickly, he said something that sounded Spanish and then…kissed Rudy’s temple. Then just as quickly as he’d swooped in for a peck, he moved away again. Gaz and Price were too busy looking at you, they didn’t catch it, but they did catch your frown. 

“Alright, Pup?” Gaz asked, quickly picking up on your change of expression. “You alright with the plan?”

You blinked up at him. It took a little while until you mustered up the wherewithal to shake your head. The movement slowed as if it were moving through molasses 

“No, I’m fine with it Gaz,” you shrugged. “I infiltrate first most of the time anyway. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll worry anyway,” he said, flicking your ear from just over your helmet. “Don’t want anything to happen to my new favourite.”

You shook your head, but rather than let loose the grin that threatened to spill over your lips, you let the comment fuel you. That and Rudy and Alejandro’s little moment could wait till later. At that moment everything was about the building in front of you and the protection of your hard earned team. You wouldn’t let them down. For once you were happy to act as both the battering ram and shield, knowing you’d fight any man that threatened to take your men from you. 

Once Ale gave the go ahead, everything seemed to happen in double time. You, Price and Rudy took up the rear, running ahead through the panic with snarling jaws and weapons Primed. Price shot behind you all at any stragglers from the woods while you and Rudy moved to position yourselves for the door. A renewed fire lit your veins, and when you looked over you could see that Rudy looked much like you felt, his face focused and irises wide as cannonballs. 

As soon as Alejandro cried ‘go’ you were both let loose. Rudy flew high and you went low, both taking out the two men that filled the hallway like pillars. Your man screamed bloody murder when his femur was torn into and then squeaked when his genitals were shredded loose from his body. Rudy’s man didn’t have the chance to scream, his throat was torn out and slapped against the walls with a wet sound. 

The next few men were dispatched in equally gory fashion, blood spattered fourth and covered you both anew, your mouth fizzed with the taste of iron and tattered fabric. Saliva and plasma foamed down your chin, each new bite like a mouthful of unset jelly. It was that feeling that had your instincts invading, the battle in front of you fading as it blended into all the ones that came before it. 

-🐺-

“So you’re actually useful for something then! What a good mutt. We finally made a killer out of you, didn’t we? Can send you off to do some real work.”

The face in front of you tortured you like nothing else. That fucking tirelessly smug look, that scar that marred him seemed to deepen that unbearable smile, it stretched tight over his lips. He loomed just out of reach, no matter how hard you fought against the chain, you could never touch him. Could never reach no matter what you tried.  

“You just saved me a bullet, you vicious little bitch… I’ll let you into a secret too since you passed your test so spectacularly - It wouldn’t have been for him. Could’ve used him for the next dog after all.”

The body below you was cooling now. The man’s blood at your hands and feet only made you long all the more for Maddox’s, but there was no way he’d be stupid enough to allow you loose when so feral. Instead he took great joy in watching you choke yourself just for the chance of even laying a scratch on him, chuckling everytime you gagged.

-🐺-

“Pup! Behind!”

You squealed, clawing at the air as you were quite literally dragged back into the present. Someone was forcing you from your latest quarry, the man was still screaming and flailing around like a kicked puppy, throwing himself around with all the grace of a chew toy. The strangers’s hands brought you back and twisted you around to meet his gun, the burning scent of its barrel stinging your nostrils. Though before the metal could reach your head, you flung it upward with your fist. The noise of the shot ground into your ears like iron shavings, competing with your knuckles in a blindingly throbbing battle. 

Even with the generous ear protection you were given, you were still left reeling. Made dizzy and sent wobbling off to the wall by your left. The gun was lining up with you slowly, the man clearly affected by that same misfire. It was a race for both your lives. You pushed off the crumbling wall and threw yourself to his feet in a last ditch attempt to win. 

Another shot rang out. Your vision went black. Your body felt as if it had been buried at the bottom of an explosion, your lungs and back ached with pressure. A few more shots whizzed through the air, the individual pops were your only company through the darkness. That and a low rumbly voice that felt as if it were vibrating through your rattling skull. You're my good Pup, it said, I knew you had to be mine.

“Pup! Pup!”

Light flooded your eyes and the unforgiving weight on your back alleviated all at once. You were rolled around to meet wide brown eyes that searched over you in a wide sweeping motion. Gaz. He finished tossing the body that had lain on top of you and came to kneel directly in front of you so that he could get a better look. 

“Still breathing, Cap!” he shouted, his voice deliberately carrying past where you were lying. 

You flicked your eyes to the hallway beyond and noticed Price dragging someone into a room after acknowledging you both with a grunt and a quick glance. You didn’t recognise the man he was flinging through the doorway, but you could only assume it was the target. 

“I told you not to worry,” you groaned.

Gaz didn’t look the least bit amused. Neither did you after he hauled you up into his lap. You grimaced, hands instinctively flying to your side where pain had begun to radiate like a blooming lotus. The petals of that pain unfurled slowly, sending your breathing haywire. Fuck, did it hurt. It sent you cursing like a sailor. 

“Did that cunt actually shoot me?” You seethed, not willing to look down while you were trying to focus on breathing. 

“Fucking lucky that one didn’t. That one you were attacking first got you in the vest from further away before his friend fell on you. I got em’ both.”

“Ah…Makes sense that I’m not pink mist then. Thanks for that.”

Gaz turned you around, just so he could narrow his eyes at you. You could only tilt your head back, wondering why he was so perturbed. He didn’t look angry per se, it was like he wasn’t sure what to feel. His brows were heavy over his darkened eyes and his jaw ticked over as he tried to form words. You’d never seem him like that before.

“What happened to you?” he finally asked.

“What do you mean?” 

“Your eyes were pitch black, I’ve never seen you that far gone before. It was like you were possessed or something. Freaked me the fuck out.” He said, shaking his head. “So what happened?”

Had it been someone you hadn’t known you’d have told them to shove it. The rebuke was building on your tongue, practically clawing to come out. Though the concern on Gaz’s face stopped you from doing anything of the sort. You softened your gaze and looked off to his left, focusing on a tattered piece of wall and the ghost of a smile the bullet marks created. 

“Training took over. Maddox…he always…,” you stared so hard your vision doubled, the blurry face grinning back twice as much before you refocused on Gaz. “The wolf in me took the lead. I did my job and they went for me and not any of you. All that matters is you’re fine, Gaz.”

Gaz didn’t say anything to that. He continued to frown, and thought on it for a minute, staring down at the spot where the centre of your pain radiated outward. You began to wonder if it was pulsing visibly just as much as it was physically. However impossible that was. Just as he looked like he might have formed a response his chance to talk was taken from him. 

“Gaz, how’s Pup? Broken?” 

Price’s voice was all grit, he filled the silence like a sledgehammer. Gaz called back that you were going to be fine, just bruised and after another grunt of affirmation he was called to come assist in securing the asset. Alejandro sent Rudy to go watch over you. Gaz gave you a look that said he’d be talking to you later while he switched with Rudy, disappearing into the room and taking his palpable silence with him. 

Rudy didn’t show any of that same blinding concern once he reached you. If anything he looked like he might be bored, but you couldn’t tell with his face. He had a knack for appearing neutral, if not a bit startled at times. Looking so shifty as his ears flicked about, clearly not trusting that the base would stay conquered. 

“You’re still alive. Good for you,” he said at last, choosing a spot just in front of you to lean against. 

You snorted. His ears twitched irritably at the sound. 

“What? You disappointed?”

“No, just surprised,” he said simply.

You frowned back at him, but before you could bother to ask why, he elaborated. 

“They break all you British hybrids so bad, its like none of you even want to try staying alive.”

“What? They train you so much better over here do they? I never realised Mexico was such a paradise,” you said back, sneering over at him. “It’s no wonder your ears and tail aren’t even marked if you’re standing there looking down on me for the way i fight.”

Having said that, you were waiting for the fight to break out that normally would’ve happened with any of the bastards from your last base. All of you were raised on a hair trigger. Left to your own vengeance, so long as you didn’t cause any grievous wounds that stopped you working.

With that in mind you made a show of visibly switching off your comms, confident now that the fighting with the cartel was behind you that you could settle things in private. Rudy didn’t even bat an eye however, he tilted his head at you, but eventually did the same. Neither of you needed to disrupt the others with your bickering.  

“You think that your broken tail makes you a better soldier than me?”

There wasn’t a good response for that. If he’d engaged in your petty little fight, you might’ve said yes, but he was as calm as if he and you were sat waiting in a briefing room. As you tried to find a retort your ears flicked nervously around your head, dancing between being upright and flattened before they settled on pinning ever so slightly backwards. 

“Shows that I must be doing a good job staying alive if I’m still here despite it.”

He smiled at that, pursing his lips soon after. 

“Sure…I’ll let you have that. They call you ‘Pup’ for a reason I suppose.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you growled.

“Mean’s that you sulk just the same as one.”

You lunged for him and quickly regretted it when your ribs sent a stab of pain that tremoured through your whole body. Even while you did everything in your power not to make a noise, you were helpless in letting a small whine escape your throat. 

“Sound like one too. You should take it easy, you’ll have plenty time to get me back once you recover from that.”

You flipped him off in place of being able to take a swipe at him. Your breathing was getting ragged, so deep and frayed that you eventually committed to ripping your vest off and getting a look at your wound. Your arms burned with the effort it took, but the thing parted from you with a thunk and suddenly your body really let you know just how much you’d wrecked it. Traitorous thing, proving Rudy right. 

When your eyes landed on the island shaped bruise at your side, it took everything not to wretch. The thing was already a hundred different shades, looking ugly and dark and just as sore as it felt. Your eyes grew wet and you soon forgot all about the one sided argument you were having and closed them, begging yourself not to cry so that you could reserve the last scrap of your dignity. 

“That looks bad…Woah!”

You hadn’t realised, but in a fit of dizziness you’d begun to slide down the wall. Rudy stopped you from collapsing into a heap right at the last second. For second all you felt was air and then his cool hands on your skin. Not long after his peppery scent flooded through you, forcing you to stay in the room. He propped you up on his side and kept an arm curled against you, gripping onto your hip. 

“You good?” He asked, intense eyes flicking all over your face. 

They were like molten copper. He disarmed you instantly, chasing the rest of the fight out of your failing body. Even if you had been primed to start a boxing match only moments before you’d resolved to let him have his sense of superiority while you focused on staying upright.

Well, almost. 

“You just this touchy with everyone, yeah?” you asked, trying to distract him from how pathetic you’d turned. 

It was finally his turn to look confused.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, ears flicking around. 

“I saw you two lovebirds before we attacked,” you grinned, soon grimacing when you took a particularly hard breath. “Does he always give you a good luck kiss?”

Rudy looked like he wanted to throw you off of him, but by sheer goodness of his own heart prevented his hand from doing so. It didn’t stop his fingers gripping your hip tighter, his claws luckily grazing your good side. He stopped himself when he caught your wince.

“Don’t talk shit.”

“I’m not judging.”

“Sounds like you are,” he snorted. 

“If anything I’m jealous.”

That was supposed to be a joke. However your tone didn’t convey that. So for a second you were left blinking over at each other until Rudy clenched his jaw. His iron patience was wearing thin, the pickaxe that you were taking to it was apparently breaking through. All from that comment. It was then that you realised whatever he had with the colonel was more than just a little over affection. 

“Really? You want Ale?”

You gasped in shock, clutching your side and barking out in laughter. 

“Oh shit, no,” you cackled.

“Who then?”

“My handler obviously…apparently. Fuck me, how did we even get to talking about this?” you sighed, settling back against the wall. 

Rudy looked more relaxed now and he loosened his hold on your frame, his tongue lashed out against his lips and that gentle smile returned to his face.

“You got us onto the subject I believe. Which of them is your handler? Garrick?”

“Desperate to gossip now?” You asked, trying to let the subject die. 

Rudy wasn’t having that though. He was like a cat with a mouse, easily batting you between his big paws.

“It’s Garrick isn’t it? You were looking…moon eyed is the expression isn’t it?”

“I do not have moon eyes for anyone!” you groaned, knocking him with your shoulder and hurting him about as much as you did yourself. “Besides, I belong to Ghost not Gaz.”

Rudy’s eyebrows shot up so high you were almost sent into a new laughing fit imagining them coming clean off. He shook his head, eyebrows still firmly attached. The absurdity of the whole situation didn’t escape you. After being in a gunfight that almost ended your life, it seemed unlikely that you’d be stuck gossiping with your fellow hybrid afterward while there was a man most likely being beaten for information in the other room.

“Ghost?” he choked out. “No mames! That’s not someone you want a kiss from. He’d give you the kiss of death.”

“Maybe on you. He’s really quite sweet with me,” you grinned, “Reckon he’d give me a big peck on the head as well, just like Ale does with you.”

“Ghost. Sweet?”

“He is. We were having a romantic morning cuddling in bed just the other day,” you said faux wistfully. “Trading stories, sharing scents.”

“Ah, so that’s the nice British way of saying that you fuck. I’ll have to keep that in mind when Alejandro and I trade scents.”

It was your turn to risk losing your eyebrows to the sky. In fact you were so taken aback that your mouth went dry. Sure it wasn’t like you were a virgin, but you had thought it was rare that hybrids and humans had sex, nevermind navigated complicated handler relationships while doing the act. In fact that very idea opened up new avenues in your mind, sparked a little inkling of opportunity you hadn’t really consciously considered much before. 

“You and Alejandro are…together?”

You’d expected him to laugh or look offended or look panicked or something, but now that you two had found some kind of messed up common ground he didn’t give much away. He tilted his head at you and smiled indulgently. 

“Oh, so you weren’t just playing coy? Poor little Pup.”

“Poor little Pup nothing,” you said petulantly, folding your arms and willing the conversation away. “I’m a professional, I don’t shag my superiors.”

“It sounds like you’d like to though,” he chuckled, looking delighted with himself. “I’m right, am I not?”

“No,” you said squeaked out, body raising a hundred degrees just at the thought. 

All sorts of images flooded your mind. Ghost lying next to you just like he had been when he’d whisked you into his bed. Ghost dripping and wet from the rain, carrying you close to him, so close to him you could practically smell him through the mental haze. Ghost holding you against a wall while you trained, keeping you at bay while you waited to attack your fake target. Ghost’s unyielding grip on your collar. Relax Pup, I’ve got you. Thats it, keep it steady. 

“Oh well that’s definitely the face of someone that’s telling the truth,” he remarked slyly. 

“Go fuck yourself,” you huffed, shaking at the realisation that maybe that wasn’t even the first time that you’d considered being open to the idea of something else with Ghost…  

“I don’t have to. Maybe you can use that death wish of yours to ask for the same.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you groaned, now just trying to focus on staying upright.

“Alright then,” Rudy said, still smiling into the middle distance. “You’re the one that started talking shit anyway.”

“No don’t you start that shit, you’re the one-”

“You two!” Price barked.

Both your heads whipped around to the now open doorway where Ale and Gaz were busy dragging a hooded man while your Captain oversaw the whole thing. His face was grave and drawn, he looked battle worn and weary, but even beneath the layers of grime and awful mood you could see that his resolve stayed well intact. 

“Captain,” you said quietly, feeling like you had to acknowledge him in some way. 

Rudy said nothing, but gave a nod.

“We have a team coming out to meet us and escort this one back to Los Vaqueros’s base. Rudy, stay with Gaz and Ale. Pup, can you stand?”

You bit your lip, knowing how much your next movement would hurt, but sucking it up despite yourself. With a growl, you braced your hands beneath you and then clawed your way up the wall, coming to a shaky stand until you were all the way upright - almost all the way upright. Your hip kept you wonky on your feet, but otherwise you were able to stay in place. 

You shot him a shaky thumbs up. 

“Good. I’ll help you to evac. Once we get to base, you and me are going to have a talk.”

If your spirits hadn’t been thoroughly pissed on by that point, they were then. Your ears drooped low and you nodded slowly waiting at the wall like a naughty child until he was ready to prop you against his shoulder. 

Your thoughts raced at the possibilities of all he could want to talk about. So much had happened to you in such a short space of time, it felt like your mind was a skipping DVD. Scenes of carnage melded with the two officers in the hallway, both rooms melting together while flashing to Ghost, Price, Soap and Gaz training with you. All your team warred for for time with all your enemies, all the fighting you had done up to that point mingled with scenes from training hangars, bars with pool games and soft blue sheets draped over Ghost’s sprawling body. 

It was going to be a long ride back.

-🐺-

“You decent?”

You looked down at the puddle of water below your tail with unfocused eyes, the blurry edges of the water seemed to morph and change colours with the flickering lights above you. Shifting between pink, yellow and white. It had taken a while to get most of the blood out. Most being the operative word. Your uniform was hurled into the corner, too far gone to be worth washing or doing anything to save. Price had told you to chuck it once you were changed into the new clothes he’d pulled from your kit. 

“Yeah, I’m changed,” you finally answered back. 

You were a little soggy, but still you had changed and you were clean and your hair had been tended to first after getting your jogging bottoms and T-shirt on. All that was left was to finish brushing out your tail, your secret weapon against whatever words were about to come your way. From the way Price had been speaking to you, you could tell he wasn’t very happy. Brushing out the snarls from your fur would give you an excuse not to look at him. 

You were just starting to comb out the tip of the silvery fur when Price walked in, boots heavy against the tile. He filled the doorway like a barricade. 

“Come on,” he sighed, his voice even heavier now that he was so close to sleep. “Go sit on a bed, I need to get off my feet.”

“My tail’s still wet, I need to brush it out and dry it,” you said quickly, hoping that you weren’t giving him reason to be more annoyed.

“Fling a towel down. Whatever bed you sit on, I’ll take. Gaz can have the other one.”

You raised your eyebrows, but didn’t dare question him further. Truth be told, when you’d been pushed toward the room and through the bathroom, you hadn’t thought much about what the bunking situation would be, but now that you were cognizant of the situation, it dawned on you that there was two twin beds beds out there and three soldiers to fill them. So you must be on the floor then. 

It didn’t matter. That wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. You took a dry towel and spread it out over the bed on the left hand side of the simple room, and taking a proper look around. There were two twin sized beds at the back of the room, a plain wooden dresser next to the doorway at the front, and of course the bathroom that you’d come out of to the left with a mirror stuck to the back of it. The walls were stark white, but thankfully there was a small window in the middle of the two beds, giving the room a little relief from the stark paint and yellow lighting. 

You jumped when Price came to sit next to you, avoiding touching the already wet towel, but sitting close enough you were dipping into him. It took a little adjusting so that you wouldn’t lean into him, but once you both got comfortable, you were soon left staring. Looking into the hard blue gaze that met yours like a set of angry headlights. 

“Gaz told me what you said.”

“W-what?” you whimpered, wondering what it was that he was referring to.

Had he heard your conversation with Rudy? You were so sure that door was closed. So sure that you could barely hear their mutterings in there. 

“He said that you told him you ‘did your job’. Do you know how many times we called out to you to come to heel, Pup?”

“I…No. No, Sir.”

“I asked you three times. Gaz asked you once before he had to take out the men that were on you. You did not ‘do your job’. You rushed ahead like a half crazed coyote and almost got yourself killed. And then what? What would I have told Ghost, hm?” Price growled, his breaths coming out fast and uneven. 

Your wet tail curled around you, scraggly strands drawing close to what little warmth was still in your body. It felt like you were growing colder by the second, frozen in Price’s icy stare. Your chest pumped feebly in order to keep your blood flow moving, though the way you were shaking you couldn’t be sure everything was working as it should. 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you murmured, your whole body curling in on itself like a slinky. 

“I’m sorry doesn’t cut it. I told you when you started with us that I don’t want you taking risks that threaten your life. You’re not disposable to my team, not to me, not to Gaz or Soap, and especially not to Ghost. You don’t ever get to a point where you start blacking out and rampaging out of control like that again. You hear me? Never.”

The breath from your body felt as if it had been robbed from you. Every little gear in your mind ground to a halt and suddenly all the possibilities of what might happen next were spread out in front of you, playing in tandem and haunting you with the awful consequences of your actions. Would Price punish you? Remove you from the team? Send you away? Take you back to Branhaven. 

“Look at me, Pup.”

You looked up immediately as if controlled by him. Everything in you was now coded to answer to his every call and do everything he said while you still could. All instincts pointed to serving him well before he made any decision to get rid of you. To try and preserve yourself now that the fighting was done. You could see your own dark reflection staring back at you in his pupils, the wilting frame of your body frozen there in the inky blackness.

“We gave you this collar because we knew you’re a great soldier and because we knew how well you’d work with our team and because we wanted to make you ours. This collar means you’re 141 for life,” Price said, tugging on it for good measure. “Don’t sit there looking sorry for yourself like I’m gonna send you packing or treat you like your old superiors would’ve. I’d have hoped that you knew me better by now. C’mere, you little sod.”

You didn’t get much of a chance to react. Price drew you into his arms and perched his head on yours, fanning your ears with his hot breath. You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his hard frame and covering him with a soft outer layer of hybrid. Cigar smoke, bullet oil and musk be damned, his warmth and his scent felt heavenly on your senses. 

“What are we gonna do with you, ay? Bloody troublemaker.”

“I don’t mean to be,” you sniffed.

“Course you don’t. That’s why I’ve got a fitting punishment to get those tendencies in check.”

“Punishment?” you asked, stiffening in his arms. 

He drew back from you and nodded his head, not giving much away. He’d already told you he wasn’t going to treat you like your old superiors, but that didn’t do much to put you at ease. Just because you weren’t going to get a whipping, didn’t mean you were out of the woods. You had no idea what he had planned, searching his face dug up nothing. 

“Was on the phone to Ghost before I came to talk to you. We both agreed to set you up with a therapist. You’re getting a minimum of ten sessions booked in to start, and then after five we’re going to evaluate how many more you might need.”

You gawped at him, face going from a picture of worry and to one of indignant shock. A bloody therapist? That was his and Ghost’s big idea of a punishment? At that point you wondered if you might rather have one of your old punishments. What the hell were you going to say to a therapist? What were they going to say to you? Oh sorry your family abandoned you and left you to the proverbial wolves, maybe you’ll feel better if you talk about it. 

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I don’t know what a therapist is going to-”

“Don’t ‘sorry, Sir’ me and don’t you think for a second that you know better. You’re going and that’s final,” he said, tone so sharp that it cut off any room for argument. 

You gulped and suddenly were reminded of your place. Of your character. You were supposed to be meek and trying to grovel for forgiveness. All things considered, a few sessions of pretending to make emotional breakthroughs would probably be one of the easier challenges you’d have faced in your lifetime. 

“Ok…um…Sorry, Sir.”

“I think that’s enough sorries out of you, Pup,” he grumbled, ruffling his hands over your ears. “I think we’ve established how sorry you are. You can make it up to me by sorting your tail out and picking a bunkmate. Gaz is gonna come by with some food in a minute and then we’re all gonna get some sleep. You can talk to Ghost tomorrow.”

For yet another time you were left stunned. A bunkmate?

“A bunkmate?” You repeated out loud. 

“Only two beds,” Price said, as if you were stupid. “You can sleep with me or Gaz. I won’t be offended if you switch even after you’ve made my bed all wet.” 

Suddenly being faced with the choice of sharing a small bed with Price or Gaz after the conversation you’d just had and the conversation you’d had with Rudy earlier in the day was too much. Too much was happening to you! Where did life get off giving you the choices or lack thereof that it did? 

You must have looked a sight, staring into the dead air above the other bed like you’d seen a monster. On the one hand you figured that you could really use some comfort and the memory of how you felt after sleeping with Ghost was tamping your panic and convincing you that it would be ok, but on the other you were thinking about Rudy telling you to get it on with your teammates and that was bringing all sorts of embarrassing thoughts to light. How could you sleep next to them knowing that it might encourage those thoughts?

“I can just sleep on the floor, Price,” you said with what you hoped would be a convincing smile. “Done it plenty of times before.”

Price wasn’t having any of that. He paused at the bathroom door and fixed you with a tired stare. 

“Choose or I’ll choose for you.”

“No really, I can just use my bag as a pillow and-“

Price laughed dryly and shook his head. Looking at you like an incorrigible puppy. 

“Sleeping with me then. Sort that tail, eat your dinner when it comes and get into bed. Last thing I need is you complaining about your back while you’ve got that hip in bad enough shape.”

You watched him disappear into the bathroom with no less shock horror than when he presented the arrangement to you. All you could hear was Rudy’s taunting voice in your ear telling you that you could have any of your superiors if you just made your desires known. Which in turn helped break you from your shock. 

You started to wonder how Rudy and Alejandro started out together. Had they been like you and Ghost? Had Rudy come from a training facility and then luckily stuck with someone who loved him and who would foster that warmth and connection? Or maybe they knew each other before. Did Rudy do it for benefits and then it turned into more. 

You remembered some of the hybrids at your old base would trade sex for favours or contraband. The very thought of that made you want to vomit out all of your insides, especially when you thought of the humans at your old base. Fucking some of the hybrids was dire enough, only doing it to scratch each others itches when the need you felt grew to an explosive point. You’d never thought about doing out of genuine interest and attachment to another person before. Now it was all you could think about. 

“Wow, Price must’ve given you some talking to.”

You spun in place and faced Gaz, cheeks heating and ears flickering until you realised you’d been caught deep in your salacious thoughts. The room spun ever so slightly, but after getting a hold of yourself you remembered what Price had said and fixed your eyes on the trays that Gaz was holding. 

Right. Dinner. Tail. Sleep. 

“Hey,” you said lamely, sheepishly meeting Gaz’s eyes. 

“Hey, yourself,” he snorted. “You ok?” 

“Yeah, fine,” you muttered rather unconvincingly. “You?”

“Fine, Pup. I didn’t get told off by the captain,” he winked. “And I already had my dinner. You should eat as well, might give you some life back in that sorry face.”

He went to set your tray down next to you and you gratefully thanked him while looking over the contents. It was exactly what you needed. Some kind of beef stew brimming with sauce and vegetables with a big bar of chocolate for after and a bottle of water to wash it all down. You breathed it in as if you could inhale it, the fresh smell making your mouth water. 

“What the hell? We need whoever the cook is here to transfer back with us. This looks fucking good.”

Gaz laughed at that. 

“Tastes fucking good too. Should eat up.”

You shook your head and picked up your brush. 

“Gotta sort this before I get Price’s bed any wetter. Should probably try to get back on his good side,” you said, already navigating the half dried tangles. 

“I don’t think he’ll care much. I’ve seen that man fall asleep standing in the rain. Bit of water on his bed won’t make a difference to him,” Gaz shrugged.

You laughed at that, but didn’t let it deter you from your work. It wasn’t like you were only concerned for the bed. The longer you took to get the last of your tail unfurled, the more painful it would be to tug out the dry knots. It felt therapeutic to tackle each tangle one by one anyway, brought a sense of calm to you while you worked. 

“What did the big man say anyway?”

“Hm?” You hummed back, not really hearing what he said. 

“Price. You looked like you were about to have a fit before I came in.”

You paused what you were doing and looked up at him with an arched brow. He arched his own back and to that you could only roll your eyes. 

“Nosy.”

“Got a right to be. Saved your life, you have to do whatever I say now.”

“Oh really?” You asked, seething as you hit a bad snag in your tail. 

“Really. Now tell me what he said,” Gaz demanded, voice higher with his amusement. 

You sighed and finally tackled the tough section you were working on, lobbing the big furball you pulled into the bin underneath the bedside table. Once that was done you looked over at Gaz. 

“He told me that I have to go do therapy,” you said with a screwed up expression. 

“Oof,” Gaz said, pursing his lips as he tried not to laugh. “I can see why you looked so serious then. Truly, it’s the harshest of punishments he could’ve come up with, that cruel old bastard. Just think of the battle scars you’ll come out with. Fucking hell, you’ll never come back the same.”

“You’re so funny.”

“I am. It doesn’t matter how much you say I’m not. I know that I’m hilarious.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, finishing the last bit of your tail. 

“An idiot that saved your life,” he smiled. “Idiot.”

You grinned and finally put down your brush so that you could go get the hairdryer. Instead of engaging any more in the silly fake argument, you got to work finishing off the drying process, taking a minute to sweep the dryer over your tail and fill your ears with white noise.

Once it was done, your tail was fluffy and warm, all ready for a good nights sleep. After you ate your stew of course. Now that Gaz was settled back on his bed and scrolling through his phone you were left to get to work on your last task. You picked up your tray and got ready to greedily scoff down the heavenly bowl in front of you. 

Just as you were picking up your fork and digging into your first bite the shower in the bathroom turned off again. You flicked your ears at the sound but didn’t think to pay it much mind. Instead you enjoyed your first bite, savouring the salty spicy beef and soft veg that was the perfect amount of juicy and crunchy. It was enough to make your eyes close all of their own accord. 

You opened them again when the bathroom door opened, immensely grateful you’d already swallowed that bite you took before you choked. Price came out in only a towel, the wet sheet of fabric commendably doing everything it could to cling to the ridges of his muscled hips and soft belly. His chest and arm hair was speckled with water droplets and the top of his head was all fluffy after it was presumably roughed over with the towel. 

Suddenly you’d completely forgotten what you were supposed to be doing. Your big round eyes were too busy roving all over Price. Every hair, every muscle, every scar that he had laid bare and available to you. In fact so much so that you were only broken out of it because Gaz cleared his throat and looked pointedly at you. 

“Good stew, Pup?” He quipped, shooting you a sly grin. 

You cleared your own throat and hid your eyes in the food, not trusting yourself to look at either of the other men in the room. 

“Yeah, yeah good. Thanks, Gaz,” you muttered, shovelling another bit in without tasting it this time. 

“You get some for me?” Price asked, busy combing his fingers through his hair over at the mirror. 

“Yeah, your tray’s just there on the table, Cap.” 

“Good man,” Price replied.

Just as you were sure that you might get over whatever it was that had come over you, you heard his towel dropping. Your ears, your tail, your heart stopped in place. Your eyes flicked up to the pale slopes of his ass before they shot right back down to your food again and felt as if they might just keep going and roll out of your head. Why did you even look up in the first place? 

You were sure the next bite of stew would be the end of you. But you could’ve face anyone asking why you’d stopped eating and you sure as hell didn’t want to think of some other way to distract yourself, so you forced down another bite and lost yourself to the rhythm of your raving heart. 

Luckily for you Price stuck his boxers on and then a pair of his own sweats, leaving his chest bare before he dried himself. He had the dryer on for a couple minutes after that, but you didn’t dare look at him beyond what filled your periphery, little flashes of him fluffing at his hair or running the dryer over his arms and chest. 

Soon enough the ordeal was done. He came over to sit by you and shovelled his food down with very little grace. He ate so fast that you both finished at the same time. The sound of his heavy breathing and Gaz turning the shower back on for himself were soon the only sounds in the room. 

“Ready for sleep?” He asked, raising his big damp brows at you. 

“Uh…I think so.”

“Good.”

That was all he said. No warning, no precursor to what he did next.

He stuck both your trays on the table and yanked the covers back, sweeping you under them with him, pulling you close to his chest until you were flush to his body. The smell of the cheap soap did little to diminish his natural scent as it wove itself around you. The sound of his booming chest filled your ears and soon you were both lying there in the stillness as if what was happening was normal. 

“Shouldn’t we turn the light off or…” you trailed nervously. 

“Gaz’ll need it, Pup. Just close your eyes, he’ll turn it off when he’s done,” Price rumbled, his entire voice trickling over you like hot honey. 

“Oh, yeah right… it’s just-“

“Pup,” Price groaned. “Anymore out of you and I’ll double your minimum amount of therapy sessions. Shut up, shut your eyes and go to sleep.”

Well there was no arguing with that. Though part of you wondered if you’d need more therapy just from that night alone. You huffed at the thought and finally settled against him, annoyed enough with his bluntness that you were able to see past his naked body and the bullet holes that speckled his left arm. You were only barely thinking about how much you wanted to paw at him at that point, grumpy and content enough to fold yourself into the sheets and close your eyes just as he’d asked. 

The sound of running shower water accompanied you into your dreams. Just as you’d figured it was going to be a long night, you floated off to Price’s faint snores and Gaz’s shower. Finally too tried to think anymore, or worry about what Gaz would see once he got out of the shower.

[yeeterthek33per]

Get Her Back (Lucy Bronze x Reader)

A/n Requested

Warning(s): SMUT 18+ MDNI, Suggestive (duh), mild jealousy (squint a lil, its fine).

The sweat was starting to feel a little grosser today.

With the heat wave ripping through England perfectly on time with your international break, it seems that training became more the stuff of nightmares with the sun unbearable on your already tanned skin.

It seems that brought out the more interesting behaviours of your teammates because they were looking for ways to distract themselves from melting into the pitch or tile flooring of the changerooms.

Even with air conditioning, the room was ridiculously stuffy, twenty-three sweat dripped female football players crammed into a single ten metre by ten metre room.

That being said, the topic of exes came up amongst the lot of you.

Even worse, your ex.

Specifically, the one alotted to the cubby next to yours as they ribbed both of you.

"Weren't you and Lucy together, Y/n?"

Your cheeks flush and you roll your eyes good naturedly.

"Yeah, and?"

The girls ooo at you, and ever the shitstirrer, you poke said girl in the leg with your sock covered foot.

"Not much to talk about."

She raises a brow, a small smirk challenging you almost, knowing well you're only poking fun at her.

"Oh, come on now, there has to be something to talk about. You were together for so long."

Scoffing, you wave them away, getting ready for a shower finally.

You'd both previously taken it in stride, having dealt with their teasing while you were dating.

The fact your relationship hadn't ended all that badly, being blamed on the fact that you were just both separate for far too long, playing on different sides of the continent, was never really your strong suit.

So, it doesn't surprise you when the cocky behaviour comes out too.

Lucy, ever the flirt, jokes quietly in your ear when the attention shifts from you to Alessia at the quiet mention of a possible new relationship.

"Not much, eh? And here I was under the impression that I was the best you've ever had."

You snort, elbowing the older woman with a small glare.

"Please, far from it, Bronze."

You had half a mind to laugh at the offended look on her face.

There was no way she believed that, but now you had to stick to your guns because you'd never hear the end of it if you'd actually told her the truth.

It does something to her because the moment you're all returning to the bus, she's planted herself directly next to you, sitting in the aisle seat.

Raising a brow at her sudden insistence on being in your presence, which, if she even notices the look, she doesn't acknowledge it.

Settling in for the two hour or so long bus ride back to camp, your earphones go in, and your head leans back to rest your eyes for a minute.

It seems you don't get very far, though, because a hand on your knee stops you on your nap voyage.

Glancing down, you confirm your assumption in saying that said hand is connected to your seat buddy.

Though it seems she's not actually even looking at you, she's talking animatedly with Millie and Rachel (*a/n I am aware shes R worded from internationals but I'm not accepting that just yet y'all*), who are sat across the aisle and one seat behind, and shes turned in a way that blocks their view of you.

Replacing your earbuds, you think she's just being overtly touchy today and you don't bother her with it, not minding too much, the warmth a nice contrast to how the last year or so being single had gone.

You wake up about an hour or so later, removing your earbuds and notice the chatter has died down a little, Daly Brightness now chatting between themselves and Lucy turned back to face the front, eyes glued to the laptop in front of her, watching a rerun of House M.D. (idk it fit)

Her hand hasn't removed itself. It seems it's a little higher than it was, thumb moving of its own accord, gently stroking the bare skin below your shorts.

With the air con blasting through the bus, her hand feels almost scaulding against you, your skin burning underneath the gentle caresses.

Whether she noticed you're awake or not, you're not sure, but if she did, she doesn't do or say anything other than leave her hand right where it is.

You can't find it in you to mind.

--

That doesn't last very long.

It's almost three days later into the training camp and nothing more than simple touches besides what happened on the bus has happened between you.

Although, it's like there's these little touches constantly. You know they aren't accidental. If the five years you spent with Lucy were anything to go by, you know her well enough to know there isn't ever a touch that's accidental.

She's always on alert, head swivelling when she's walking, always cautious of her hands and who's around her.

With you, there's supposed absent-minded brushes of your lower back. Her fingertips occasionally grip your arms during training rondos. A squeeze of the shoulder here and there.

She doesn't let you sit on your own like you usually do, as someone who prefers to nap quietly in the front of the bus, her hand always finding it's place on your knee once more for every day of camp.

Nothing else changes, though.

It starts to drive you a little crazy because you'd gone every training camp for a year without dealing with this.

You hadn't minded initially, but it’s getting on your nerves now.

Not because you're uncomfortable or anything.

You, reluctantly, admit to yourself that you just aren't all that over the brunette, and her touching you like this isn't helping your cause.

You're rather annoyed it's only taken three days before she's got you wrapped around her finger again, heart racing at that damn smirk on her face when you guys talk or you even just so much as glance her way.

It takes all of three days before you confront her about it.

--

"Okay, what the hell is with you?"

"Eh?"

Lucy had been in the middle of her rec gym session. Particularly in the middle of doing her core workout, so she'd been in a plank stance when you'd stormed into the empty gym, half startling the defender.

Still, she looks up at you from her position on the mat, half confusion, half focused frown.

"Don't you 'eh' me, you know what I'm talking about."

"Kind of busy, princess, I have no idea-"

"That! Princess! When was the last time you ever called me that? Not just that, the touching, the thigh grabs, the-"

"Look, I'm a little preoccupied, as much as I'd love to have this-"

"No, I want an explanation, Lucy."

She groans as she drops the plank, mildly annoyed she'd have to have another crack at her record later.

"Okay, you want an explanation."

"Yes."

She stands, stepping towards you with determination.

"You said I wasn't the best, right?"

"What?"

"Now you're the one pretending, y/n. You have every idea of what I'm talking about here."

Of course you do. You're not telling her that willingly, though.

"I really-

Her hands find your waist, backing you into the mirrored wall behind you.

"You said I wasn't the best you've ever had. Who else could've loved you the way I did? Who else made you shiver and writhe underneath me the way I did?"

Her voice lowers as she tilts your head to look up at her.

"Who else could make you cum the way I did? Tell me, Princess."

The way your cheeks redden only serves to egg her on. Her gym attire today was only futhering that though, sports bra and shorts, sweat sheening her abdomen, one you had once unabashedly stared at for all of your relationship.

Now, though, you fought every instinct and craving in you to glance down.

It doesn't matter because her lips curl up into a knowing smirk at your internal battle.

Spitefully, you snap back.

"What makes you think you're the only one to do any of that?"

For a second, you see her confident demeanour faulter, but it returns but a second later.

"Because you wouldn't still be so affected by everything I'm doing. Nor would you let me keep doing it. I know you, Y/n. If you'd been even mildly uncomfortable with anything I was doing, you would have bitch-slapped me back to Belford."

She's right.

You'd never tolerated anyone doing anything you didn't want or ask for, always the first to call someone out on their bullshit.

She continues.

"The fact that you're in here, yelling at me about how much I'm driving you crazy-"

"I did not say-"

"You don't have to, Princess. I know your tells, I know when you're flustered, frustrated, angry, upset, sad, elated. I know you. And you know that. The fact you're in here, now, tells me everything I need to know."

For once, you don't know how to respond.

So you don't.

You just tug her down by the nape of her neck.

Damn Lucy and her sexy ass cocky smirk and her back-of-her-own-hand knowledge of everything about you.

Damn the way her lips meet yours halfway, anticipating the move.

Damn her fingers, digging into your hips, lifting you into her arms and settling under your thighs to press you into the wall.

Damn Lucy and her ability to make you fall right back into her like she'd never left you back in Manchester.

Despite your best efforts, you never really could get one step ahead of her.

She pulls away, much to your whines.

"So are you gonna answer me honestly, or do I have to do something about it."

You play coy, a small eyebrow raise, despite the mild heaving in your chest.

"I am the best you've had, no doubt."

"Prove it."

--

Despite your stubbornness earlier, you'd have no qualms telling the whole world you were truly and wholly Lucy's.

You'd scream it from the rooftops.

That she was the best and only one who could fuck like she does.

Especially right now.

"Such a good girl for me, Princess. You always have been."

It's a little stuttered between thrusts, hips meeting yours with every utter of the words of the sentence.

Her hand around your throat, gently squeezing, makes your head spin as she thrusts the strap into you deliciously.

Your eyes squeeze shut, ears zoning in on her panting, the way the bed squeaks under her ministrations, the far too obscene sound of skin on skin.

The wet sounds of your own cum and arousal on the silicone toy strapped to her hips.

It's all overwhelming and only serves to send you further into the oblivion that she's got you in right now.

Your moans are loud, biting your lip to hide them from bouncing off the walls of the hotel room.

Lucy, it seems, has made it her mission to put an end to that, because her hips snap a little harder against you, and her other hand moves to play with your clit, thumb pressing into it leaving you helplessly canting your hips to meet hers.

"Bet no one else could make you cum as hard as I do."

It throws you closer to the edge faster than you expect, and your mouth drops open fully.

"Look at me."

It's a single statement from her that makes your eyes snap open to look at her above you.

She's leant over you, just about bracing herself by your throat, and the constriction just pulls you further into her.

"Good girl, I want you to watch as you cum on my cock, pretty girl."

You don't even have to ask because she's got you over the edge before you can say "Please let me cum."

Trying your hardest to focus on the rapid way her strap disappears inside you, the feeling of the head rubbing your insides and pressing into every sensitive spot inside you.

One final breathless moan leaves you digging your nails into the sheets below you, thighs quivering around her, and she lets you pull her down onto you.

There's a gentle rock to her hips, letting you come down finally, a slow to the pace she'd set hours earlier, making you orgasm over and over until now.

When she goes to pull out, you stop her.

"Don't move yet."

She chuckles softly, pressing kisses to your collarbone and neck.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

She settles back on her haunches, though, pulling back with a small groan of appreciation of where your hips are joined.

"God, you're so sexy, taken me so well, haven't you?"

You whine softly, cheeks flushing somehow further under the praise.

She slowly withdraws, dropping the strap off the side of the bed, settling between your legs once more, head level with your hips now.

"I'm not sure if I can anymore, Lucy."

"You can, baby. One more for me."

Her mouth lowers to your cunt, the sensitivity making you buck a little in overstimulation.

Her tongue laps at you, taking in every drop of you with a small breathy groan. It dips insidd you, pressing you open again before moving back to wrap around your clit and suck.

She'd missed this.

She'd missed you.

And she tells you as such once you cum on her tongue again moments later.

You're shaking around her head, hair firmly grasped between your fingers, which finally manage to pull her away from your far from overstimulated clit as she kisses her way back up your stomach, chest and finally meets your lips.

It's soft, slow, and loving, and the taste of yourself on her lips makes you whine into her.

When you pull away, she steps up off the bed, leaving you shivering under the air conditioning, sweaty, sticky, and slightly embarrassed at how quickly you'd jumped back into bed with the woman, even after a whole year gone of not touching her.

That all disappears when she reappears from around the corner with a water bottle and a damp cloth, letting her wipe you down, letting out a small wince when she bumps your clit again.

"Sorry, Princess, I'm trying to be gentle."

"S'alright."

Your words are starting to slur as a wave of exhaustion hits you.

--

She's coming back from cleaning off the toy and disposing of the cloth when she spots your knocked out form on the bed, splayed out on your stomach, still naked as the day you were born, snoring softly into her pillow.

A soft chuckle leaves her, and she settles back into the mattress beside you, to which you immediately cling to her form, and her arms wrap around you, head tucked under her chin.

Lucy knows she's not over you.

Truthfully, she knew the whole time.

She'd tried.

Tried going on dates.

Tried finding solace in other women but none of them were you.

All she could think about in Barcelona was how much she missed you.

Being with you, touching you, kissing you, feeling you.

Everything about you.

Even your soft, scolding tone every time she left her boots by the door in the walkway or when she accidentally left your new toy out on the bedside table for your nosy nephews to find and turn into a rocket ship. (It was still clean, fresh out of the packaging.)

That day, you'd been especially red in the face when you spotted what little Jonathan was holding and had smacked a muffled laughing girlfriend of yours upside the head.

She'd missed the days you'd drag her out on evening walks along the streets. On long drives to the water's edge in Southport.

To walk along the pier and just talk about anything and everything. Or to just enjoy the silence away from the chaos of your lives.

The way you'd always have your arms open and ready when you'd both gotten home from a particularly rough game or training session.

The warmth of your hugs after freezing games in the night, despite having been out on that pitch yourself.

She might be Lucia Roberta Tough Bronze to everyone else, but she could let her guard down around you.

That was the best thing about you, she reckons.

How easily you crumbled her tough façade.

How soft she was with you.

She always loved you for that.

She still does.

The thought unsettles her a little.

Despite the fact you're naked in her hotel room bed, cuddle into her. She’s not entirely sure what this means for both of you.

Just that she wants you back more than anything.

She'd move back to England if you asked.

She knows you would never ask her of that, but she would anyway, she decides.

You meant everything to her. You mean everything to her. Still.

When you awake hours later, still curled into her sleeping form, pressing small lazy kisses to the underside of her jaw, they're pressed with soft loving words of affirmation, knowing it's what she needs to hear, even if you hadn't declared your relationship resumed just yet.

Though, you do that a couple hours after that, with your fingers curled inside her, asking her to be yours again.

--

[irisintheafterglow]

he's the death you chose (you're in terrible danger)

summary: married life with husband!gojo means cleaning up bodies at 2am.

wc: 1k

cw/tags: mentions of violence, blood, and deaths (nothing graphic), mild angst/comfort with happy ending, some swearing, yes this is the albatross coded

note: honestly not sure where this came from! was just listening to ttpd and thought about what being married to gojo realistically would be like (aka always being targeted as his weakness that it becomes routine). hope you like it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

Wise men once said, “Don’t sleep with your windows open,” and you should have listened to them. If you had, there wouldn’t be three dead mercenaries in your living room, and another somewhere in your kitchen. There were five, originally, but you figured the last one was being hunted down a hallway as he tried to escape your building. The blood-spotted microwave’s clock reads 2:08 when you glance at it to grab cleaning supplies from the cupboard. 2:10 is when Satoru re-enters the apartment and kicks off his shoes. 

“I called Ijichi; he’s sending over cleaners right now,” he says, carefully stepping around the blood and curse guts splattered on the floorboards. Stray drops of who knows what speckle the photos on the bookshelf and he wipes them with his sleeve, scowling. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” 

“Yeah, there’d probably be less of a mess,” you admit, wiping down the kitchen island and guiding the crumbs and dust into the trash. “But they’d still be dead, so I guess it doesn’t really matter in the end.” 

“You handled yourself pretty well for being out of the country for a few months,” he adds appreciatively, retrieving the carpet cleaner from under the sink and sprinkling it onto the living room floor. “I still think it’d be better if you lived on-campus, though.” He squints in the pale moonlight at the pile of abrasive powder and decides to dump a little bit more for good measure. 

“I know–Hey, what’d I tell you about wasting the carpet cleaner? A little goes a long way, remember?” Satoru sets the tube down and puts his hands up in surrender, reaching back and tightening his blindfold before he approaches you in the kitchen. “I can hear your thoughts as they make their way to your mouth, dear.” 

“Look, I know what you’re gonna say–”

“Don’t ask what you’re about to ask, then, if you already know the answer,” you interject with that lightning-quick wit he adored so much. You move to grab the broom from next to the fridge, but he gently catches your wrist and turns you to face him. 

“You’d be safer there,” he continues and you pull your lips into a tight line. 

“Only place I’m safe is wherever I'm with you, realistically.” You had a point. In any other circumstance, the sentiment would be sweet if it wasn’t horribly true. You’d heard time and time again from Satoru how he stared restlessly at the ceiling, anxious about what danger might be coming wherever you were. He theorizes that the higher-ups promoted you to spite him, to have you travel even more often than he was and visit more places across the globe than any seasoned sorcerer would be comfortable with. Phone calls weren’t enough to verify that you were safe; he had to see you, feel you, know you were alive. “This is, what, the second time this month? The first time was when I came back from Paris, right?”

“I don’t think that was this month. It might’ve been the last week of the month prior. Monaco, maybe?”

“Eh, same thing. They always come after me when I get back from Europe. You think they’re trying to catch me off guard or something?”

“I don’t know if we can predict a schedule with these guys, babe,” he grimaces. As much as he liked that you were making light of the situation, the churning in his gut about what could have happened if he didn’t come was too painful to ignore. “Your dad would kill me if he saw how much danger I put you in.” 

“It’s a step up than sneaking me out of the third story of the house, I’ll admit,” you tease. How you could still find humor in times like these, he could never fathom. It’d taken months to convince your father to let Satoru court you, let alone marry you. To your family, he was an impediment, an obstacle, and, unfortunately, the love of your life. “Maybe even as bad as the food poisoning you got from that one place in Sendai.”

“I don’t think ‘in sickness and in health’ is supposed to apply to attempted assassinations. Food poisoning and sprained ankles, sure, but that other one toes the line a little too much.” The frequency of your life in danger was why he wanted you to live full-time on one of the Jujutsu Tech campuses and become a teacher, like him. Sure, a selfish part of him wanted you closer all the time, but he’d pick your safety over your proximity any day. 

“How far are the cleaners?” You yawn, washing your hands at the sink and scanning for everything in your home that needs to be wiped or scrubbed. 

“Ten minutes, tops. I can wait for them if you wanna go back to bed.” He knew you weren’t going to take him up on his offer. You were never able to sleep properly after attempts like this unless he was in the same room. “Though I know you won’t.”

“Isn’t it a little fucked up that we know how the rest of these nights usually go?” You chuckle, a soft, airy sound that takes some of the weight off of Satoru’s chest. You were truly sunlight incarnate and he was the darkest, unseen side of the moon. 

“I’d say this is all my fault, honestly.” You look at him curiously and he shrugs. “I’m the one who made you fall in love with me, after all.” 

“By that logic, I’m also partially to blame,” you point out, flashing him the ring on your left hand. The glow of cursed energy Satoru had embedded into the gemstones glows like Christmas lights in the darkness. The energy was more concentrated than your own body’s natural reserves, allowing him to pinpoint you immediately as long as you were wearing it. Danger and plans A through Z, and everything in between that came with marrying the strongest sorcerer in existence. “I can’t count the number of people who warned me about you.”  

“Why didn’t you listen to them?” 

“Because they’re not you,” you smile. “If you say that you’ll keep me safe, then I trust you to keep your word.” Sunlight incarnate, he thinks again, and God help anyone who tries to block you from him.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[qqueenofhades]

Do you think Biden's age is an overblown issue? It does to me because like, believe or not, we do intact have a system to take care of this, and all the times we've had to use if before have worked

If Biden dies, Harris takes over

If Biden deteriorates to the point of being unable to perform his duties (personally I consider this unlikely but I digress), Harris invokes the 25th

If Biden feels he can no longer perform his duties he steps down and let's Harris take over

Which is more than I can say for trump or the lunatic he'll choose for a vp

And that last point about Biden stepping down is important, Biden's sharper than people give him credit for, I do think he intends to serve a full term if reelected, but I do think he's also considered the possibility of being reelected, serving a year or two in that term, and then stepping down and letting Harris take over

Of course the thing with Harris is people right now are transparently trying to do to her what they did to Hillary leading up to 2016, and infuriatingly, people either don't see it or they're falling for it again!

It's the most fucking overblown thing ever, and represents the usual insane double standard. The media mentions Biden's age ALL THE TIME, and yet doesn't mention that Trump is just three years younger at 77, demonstrably in far worse physical shape, and clearly on the express train to senility. Whereas Biden is fit, active, bikes, works out, and otherwise is fine. Is he old? Yes. Who cares? He knows how to do the job and he is certainly a hell of a lot healthier than say, Mitch McConnell (81), who has openly frozen up on TV twice and plainly is not well. If it was Biden doing that ONCE, let alone twice, the media would be howling nonstop bloody murder. McConnell? Eh. Footnote.

Also, a lot of the scaremongering about Biden's age is directly related to scaremongering about Harris. If you vote for him and then he doesn't finish his term for whatever reason, A WOMAN OF COLOR WILL BECOME PRESIDENT AND BE IN CHARGE OF THIS COUNTRY!!!! That is the underlying message. Of course there is a system that handles it if the president, God forbid, should happen to die in office. But Oh Noes It's Scary Female Brown Kamala. Do you want to risk your vote for Biden knowing that ____SHEEEEE_____ might end up finishing his term in some capacity!?!?! She is scary! And brown! And female! And brown!!! We can't let her be in charge!!!

Anyway, yeah. It's total BS, and the fact that the media is fanning it as hard as they can means that they can't think of any way to attack Biden on substantive policy or any other legitimate grounds. So they'll just go after the age thing nonstop, and cross their fingers that it works. Which if it did, would mean ending democracy for realsies this time, but as long as they make money, who cares!

[fallstaticexit]

The Art of Being Seen - a Nancy Landgraab story

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔒𝔫𝔢 - 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔱𝔥

Prev / Next

AN / Transcript under the cut

AN: Nancy's story will consist of 3 parts: Part One- Youth | Part Two - Uni | Part Three - Wife Three pivotal moments in Nancy’s life that shaped the Nancy we know today.

As mentioned in the prologue, this story may contain mature and possibly even uncomfy themes and all posts will have their corresponding trigger warners in the post as well as the tags. Trigger Warnings are: Homophobia / Religious Trauma / Death via Car Accident/ Drugs / Alcohol / Infidelity / Sex & Nudity

Also, I have experienced CAS burnout lately, so I aged down most of the townies to teens lol. I figured this version of Cassandra Goth can be the AU version since I’ve already wrote Bella and Morti Goth into my Briar legacy, which this story is apart of that universe.

Transcript:

Cassie: This is Blair Hall, the senior girls’ dorm, and if you ask me, it’s the best one. We have our own private library. Down there is the rec room; we’re not allowed to have the boys over unless it’s with a chaperone.

Cassie: We’re also the closest to the church, which is great for when we have group sessions before service. You won’t have to rush and scarf down breakfast, plus you can sleep in a little!

Nancy: [sarcastically] Gee, how’d I get so lucky?

Cassie: Sister Agnes always says, It’s not luck—it’s a blessing! Vacancies are hard to come by. My old roomie withdrew; she had a really hard time fitting in with the other girls. They can be... kind of intense.

Dina: Oh, look. Another pretty blonde rich girl. Like those aren’t a dime a dozen here.

Nina: [scoffs] Here we go...

Dina: I am not joking. I better not catch her ass around Don. The last hoochie he was tonguing down was also a skinny, flat-chested, blonde bimbo.

Vanessa: You need to put his weenie in a cage instead of fighting every girl that breathes the same air as him.

Dina: Well, he wouldn’t be tempted if these floozies would stay away from my man!

Vanessa: I guess dyeing your hair blonde isn’t working for you, huh?

Dina: Oh, shut it, VV. You’re just jealous he isn’t into redheads.

Nina: Hmm, I thought he was into redheads though.

Dina: Ugh, as if!

Cassie: You can pretty much decorate your space however you want. Just nothing that’s on the prohibited list. There’s a room check every night before curfew, and-

Nancy: What do you know about that redhead on the balcony?

Cassie: Dina?

Nancy: No, she said her name was Vanessa. I ran into her this morning but she didn’t mention her last name.

Cassie: Oh, yeah! VV. Vanessa Villareal. She’s- eh, one of the mean girls. I try to stay out their way. Probably best you do the same.

Nancy: [softly to herself] Villareal. So, she’s old money, too.

Cassie: Her family built the school. Guess that’s why she feels like she can do whatever she wants- eh, don’t tell anyone I said that!

Cassie: But, erm, you’re welcome to hang out with me and my friends during rec and lunch and stuff. I know how tough it can, being the new girl and all.

Nancy: Yeah? ...thanks- Cassie, was it?

Cassie: You’ll totally like my friends. They’re the coolest people on Earth.

Cassie: Definitely better than some people. You can tell who goes here because of their faith and who was forced here because of their lack of it.

Cassie: Hey guys! This is Nancy, she’s my new roomie.

Bob: No way, they filled Angela’s spot already? Money talks. I’m Bob, or Bobby, and this cool, tall drink of water is Geoffrey. Welcome to Paradise.

Bob: [whispers] Geoffrey! Say something to the pretty girl!

Geoffrey: [voice cracks] W-we’ve um, met already.

Geoffrey: Our dad’s are friends. I just haven’t seen her since we were 10 years old. She looks so... different.

Bob: Oh, I seeee. First love? Your ears are beet red, my man.

Bob: Take a seat, newbie! Are you into D&D, perchance?

Nancy: I have no idea what that is.

Bob: Oh, ho ho! You’re in for a treat, m’lady. I’ll catch you up from the beginning of our campaign.

Vanessa: You look so bored. Want to get out of here, new girl?

Vanessa: Don’t worry, I’ll return you back to your nerds in one piece.

Cassie: [grumbles] Um, hello, we’re sitting right here?

Nancy: Go where, exactly? This place is in the middle of nowhere.

Vanessa: Guess you’ll have to come and find out.

Nancy VO: [I learned then, that I would follow her anywhere]

Dina: There she goes, taking in another stray.

Nancy VO: [All she had to do was take my hand]

[junrenjun]

but even after this, you're still everything to me

choi seungcheol x reader, formula 1 au

genre: heavy angst

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem reader, enemies to lovers, misogyny, death threats

a/n: another request by @straykidsstanforeverandever. lot's of heavy f1 jargon and such in this. if you aren't super in tune with f1, there may some references you don't understand. read with caution. title is a lyric from the grudge by olivia rodrigo.

Imola has always been one of your least favorite tracks to drive. And after today, you never want to come near it again. Maybe you’ll fake an illness when the time comes around next season. It would be nice to let the development drivers get some real racing time and you wouldn’t have to drive this cursed track again. 

A voice in your ears distracts you from the little pity party you’ve started in your brain. “Are you okay y/n?” 

Your race engineer’s question reminds you that your radio is being publicized on live television right this moment. Sighing, you quickly respond, “yeah Will, I’m fine. Today’s just not my day.”

The answer is half-hearted, but the man knows better than to question you right now, when you’re being recorded. He settles with, “okay, red flags are out for you. You can hop out of the car when you’re ready.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. But life is tough and Formula 1 is tougher, so you undo your belts and pull yourself out of the car. You take a minute to inspect your blown out tire, before taking your helmet off. Marshals surround you, asking if you are alright, but you brush them off. You just want to be back in your driver’s room already. 

The journey back to the paddock is a painful one, both mentally and physically. Your knee is throbbing from where it hit against the side of the car on impact. You pray the cameras don’t pick up your limp. It takes all of your energy not to cry when you see the pitying expressions of the rest of the McLaren crew. Another potential win out the window, just like that. 

The rest of the race passes by in a flash. Between going to medical as per your trainer’s request (the cameras did in fact pick up the limp) and changing out of your race suit, you only catch the last three laps. One of the Mercedes cars wins by practically a mile. And it’s fucking Choi Seungcheol of all people. 

You have half a thought to turn the TV in your driver’s room off the second he crosses the finish line, but you don’t. You’re itching to hear whatever dumb thing he says in his interview today. The man is a walking PR nightmare. 

Sure enough, the camera is chasing after him the second he steps out of the car. After a few second water break, he turns to the interviewer, who asks him, “Great win today Seungcheol. You worked your way up from 5th to 1st within a few laps today. How does that feel?”

“It feels great. I mean I couldn’t have done it without y/n’s tire of course…”

You turn the TV off, cutting him off the second he mentions your name. Slumping back even more on the couch, you throw an arm over your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Whatever possessed you to choose a male dominated sport?

You’re thrown out of your thoughts once again by a voice from your doorway. “At least it was kind of a compliment, eh?”

When you peek out from under your arm, Oscar is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. You remove your arm from your face, scooting farther down the couch and patting the spot next to you. The Aussie moves to join you. 

After a few moments of silence you turn to face him. “You made it back to the paddock pretty fast.”

It’s his turn to groan this time. “I retired 7 laps from the end. Engine failure. I was in 3rd.”

You hum, wistfully. Then turn to look out the window. “Bad day to be Papaya, I guess. Think we can convince Jungwon and Pato to take our places at Imola next season? I think I have PTSD from this track now.”

Oscar simply snorts in response. For the small amount of time remaining before you have to face the nightmare that is media duty, you simply enjoy sulking together. 

A little less than a week later, you’re standing on one of your all-time favorite tracks: Monaco. Your mood now is starkly different than it was at Imola. You’re practically bouncing on your heels waiting for FP1 preparations. Jungwon is by your side, instructed by your team principal to “learn from the best,” since he’ll be driving here for F2. 

The kid is clearly a little nervous, but he’s endearing and a pretty decent driver, so you don’t mind. You’ve already gone over the track layout with him, giving him tips for certain corners and telling him where he can make up extra time. There’s not much feedback left to give until you see him drive in person, so you resort to small talk.

As you both walk up and down the pit lane, Seungcheol saunters up to you. You resist the urge to walk away, trying to keep a good display of sportsmanship in front of your junior driver. The Mercedes driver however, clearly does not care, because he says, “is this your replacement after the Imola incident y/n?”

Jungwon, bless his soul, looks mortified. It takes everything in you to not fire a sarcastic remark back. You’re both saved from the awkwardness by Oscar though, who steps in between you and Seungcheol. He clears his throat and tells you, “Andrea is looking for you. I’ll take Jungwon for now.”

You know Andrea is most likely not looking for you. You saw him ten minutes ago when you left the garage. Thank god for Oscar’s ability for thinking on the spot. Now you have some personal time to cool off before free practice.

Both Jungwon and Oscar watch as you jog back to the garage. The Aussie lets out a relieved sigh once you are back safely. He turns to make sure Seungcheol has walked away. Thankfully, he has. 

The younger driver looks at the other quizzically. “I didn’t really realize the rivalry was actually real. I thought it was an act for the cameras.”

Pushing around a stray rock with the toe of his shoe, Oscar sighs again. “Would you believe me if I said they were teammates once?”

Jungwon’s jaw practically unhinges from his face with how far it drops. The kid is probably too young to know them in any capacity other than their rivalry. “But they hate each other…” he muses aloud.

Oscar urges the kid to keep moving along the track with a hand on his back. “Yeah, well they used to not hate each other. They were F2 teammates. It’s none of my business to tell you everything that went down but something happened that year. By the end of the championship they wouldn’t even speak to each other.” 

Jungwon nods in response, but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear that Oscar won’t give up much information, so he drops the subject. But every once in a while, his mind turns back to it. What could’ve been so bad that you guys couldn’t even talk to each other as teammates? If it was some sort of on-track collision he’s sure it would’ve been talked about in the media constantly. Now he’s really going to have to find out. 

And there’s no one better to consult than his own teammate, Lee Chan, who happens to be in the Mercedes Junior Driver Programme.

“You want me to do what?” he asks incredulously. “He’s my mentor, I’m not going to bring that up. Are you dumb?”

“Dude, aren't you curious too?” Jungwon questions.

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “Yeah I’m curious but not curious enough to risk my spot in this program just to ask Choi Seungcheol why he has rivalry with y/n.” 

“You don’t even have to ask him directly,” Jungwon tells him. “I asked Oscar about it, not y/n. Maybe you can ask George or Jeonghan about it.”

Chan throws his hands up in exasperation. “Oh even better, not only do I involve two of the biggest names in Formula 1, I involve one of their trainers and their teammates. What a genius idea!”

Jungwon covers Chan’s mouth as quickly as he can. They’re still in the paddock after all. “Dude keep it down.” 

The man just stares back at the McLaren junior driver, who sighs and says, “listen, I’ll try my best to get something out of y/n too. It’s not just you doing something.”

“Yeah that’s so motivating Jungwon,” Chan says sarcastically.

“Okay, okay,” he finally lets up. “I’ll pay for all of your afterparty drinks this weekend if you figure something out.”

This is motivating enough for Chan apparently, because he reaches his hand out for Jungwon to shake. They come to an agreement and part ways, heading back to their respective hospitalities.

Chan watches in the Mercedes garage as you set the fastest lap at the very end of Q3. He knows Seungcheol is going to be pissed when he gets back. Not only did you qualify P1, but he only qualified P6. His temper is much worse when he’s mad at both himself and someone else. 

Following Chan’s prediction to a tee, Seungcheol steps out the car practically fuming. He tosses his helmet at Jeonghan, who, as his trainer, is quite used to his behavior at this point and catches it. He marches right up to Toto, who is watching a replay of your final lap, and says, “she should’ve had a track limit violation at the chicane.”

Toto turns to him, surprisingly calm, and simply tells him, “She didn’t cut the corner enough to incur a limit violation.”

This is not the answer he wanted to hear, so he turns on his heel to stomp off to his driver’s room. Toto shouts at him from over his shoulder. “Take Chan with you. If you’re going to overanalyze every single mistake you made, at least someone should learn from it.”

Seungcheol whips his head back around to look at Chan, who nervously gulps. He wants to be mad at the kid, but he can’t find a reason to when he’s practically shaking like a leaf. Clearly he didn’t want to be thrown into this situation either. “C’mon,” he mutters and gestures at the junior driver to follow him. 

Back in his driver’s room, he unzips his suit, tying the arms around his waist before plopping down on the couch. When he looks up, the kid is still hovering by the door. Grabbing his iPad from the table, Seungcheol gestures for him to come sit down.

But Chan hesitates. “I can leave you alone, you know? I won’t tell Toto.” 

Seungcheol just rolls his eyes and gestures to the couch again. “C’mon kid. As much as I hate him right now, he’s right. You might as well learn from this and you’re already here.”

Chan makes his way to the couch rather cautiously and sits as far away as possible from the man, who is scrolling through the footage from qualifying. Without even looking over at him, Seungcheol says, “you can sit closer. I’m not going to bite.”

Not wanting to make him mad, Chan scoots a few inches closer. When he looks over at the iPad again, Seungcheol’s fingers are hovering over a video. He hasn’t clicked on it yet. He just sits there and stares at it. When Chan looks a little closer, he can make out your car in the thumbnail. 

Seungcheol clears his throat, looking away for a second. And then he turns back to Chan and says, “is it…uh okay if we watch y/n’s lap first?”

The question kind of stuns him. He was expecting Seungcheol to avoid any reminder of you at all costs. Scared that his voice will betray him, he just nods.

Seungcheol clicks on the video and they watch. The video is on mute and there’s no commentary from either of them. Just silence. As the lap ends, he pauses the video and whispers, “that was a good lap.”

Chan is even more surprised now. He was expecting a frustrated sigh or any sort of mean comment. But he doesn’t get any of that. Now, Chan’s scared that it’s a setup. That he’s trying to get him to agree just to berate him for it. He doesn’t know what to say.

Seungcheol senses that he’s not going to say anything and takes it upon himself to start the conversation. “She’s always been good at Monaco. Even since the first time she drove the track.”

This has really piqued Chan’s interest. Since her first time? Seungcheol was there the first time she drove Monaco? That had to be what? F2?

And then it dawns on him. Jungwon said something about them being teammates in F2. Hoping that the information is public knowledge (it should be, practically their whole racing lives are on Wikipedia) Chan decides to ask about it. “Was that when you were teammates?” He cringes the second the words come out of his mouth. Jungwon owes him big time.

While Chan was expecting him to look angry, Seungcheol just looks at the iPad dejectedly. “Yeah. At Prema. Do you…know about that whole thing?” he asks the boy.

Jackpot. Seungcheol willingly talking about it? He’d never thought this would happen. Then Chan remembers he actually has to respond to him. “Uhm, no I don’t think so. Jungwon said you guys were more…amicable back then.”

“Jungwon’s your teammate at MP?” he asks Chan, who nods in response. Then, Seunghcheol throws a curveball at him. “You’re not attracted to him right?”

Chan sputters at the question. “What? What does this have to do with anything?” When he looks Seungcheol in the eyes he’s dead serious. So he humors him. “No, I’m not attracted to Jungwon. I’m not even gay.”

Seungcheol just nods. “Okay, good. I mean good that you’re not attracted to him. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

This is getting weirder by the second. Chan gives him a questioning look. Why the personal questions?

Exasperatedly, Seungcheol sighs and says, “I don’t want to tell you this if it’s too relatable. I don’t want to scare you and make you not pursue a relationship because of something that happened to me.”

Chan is finally starting to put the pieces together. Then the light bulb goes off and he shoots out of his seat. “You and y/n were together?” he practically shouts.

The older driver drags him back down to his seat and shoves a hand over his mouth. “Be quiet, would you?” Then he releases Chan and slumps back against the couch. “I wouldn’t call it together. We weren’t dating, we knew that F1 would ultimately cause heartbreak for the both of us. We were just messing around. But we were exclusive, I guess.”

Chan doesn’t say anything. He just nods and waits for him to continue. “It was stupid and we both knew it. Especially y/n. She knew that if we got caught, it would affect her career more than mine. Even if we both knew that she was a better driver than I was. This sport isn’t kind to women.”

Seungcheol looks like he might cry. It’s so different from the Seungcheol that Chan witnessed 15 minutes ago in the garage. He doesn’t know what to do. He frowns and lets the man finish his story. 

“Y/n was a part of the Red Bull Junior Team at the time. She had been promised an F1 seat within 3 years if she won the championship. I was in the Mercedes Academy at the time too. So we attended a lot of F1 events together. And I was stupid enough to drag her to makeout in a hidden corner of the paddock at one of them.”

He paused, like the next part of the story would pain him to say. “A member of the press caught us. We both knew we were so screwed. He could easily out us right that second or even use it to blackmail us. Luckily Angelo from Prema was there with us that weekend and helped us negotiate with the man. Turns out this press guy is a big fucking misogynist because the final deal was that he wouldn’t out us if he could tell Christian Horner about our relationship. Said he ‘didn’t want no bitches in Formula 1.’ Prick.”

“Christian kicked her out of the junior program when he found out. He’s also a misogynist. I’m glad she didn’t end up there. He told her that he prefers people who win championships through dedication, not those who sleep to the top. But instead of being mad at him or the press guy, she was mad at me. She told me that I ruined her career. That she would never get into Formula 1 because of me. So she never spoke to me again unless it was at work.”

Chan looks at him skeptically. “But her career turned out fine.”

Seungcheol just shrugs. “Exactly.”

Chan is even more confused now. Understandably, you were upset by this whole situation. But why is Seungcheol a dick to you now? “But the whole rivalry? You seem to have started the hostility in that. Not her.”

The man sighs. “Her career turned out fine, Chan. But she continued to be mad at me.”

It’s starting to click in his brain. “So you’re mad at her because she never forgave you?” Chan asks. 

All Seungcheol says is, “bingo.”

They’re interrupted by Jeonghan knocking on the door and letting the F1 driver know that he’s due in a few minutes for media duties. Seungcheol leaves Chan on his couch without another word. 

“You’re buying my drinks in Barcelona too,” Chan tells Jungwon the second he opens his hotel room door.

Jungwon gapes at him. “What? We only agreed to the afterparty,” he says as the boys walk further into the room, away from prying eyes and ears. 

“Yeah well that was if I got you any information. I got you the whole fucking story, dude.” Jungwon’s eyes are as wide as saucers and he immediately starts asking about it. Chan recounts Seungcheol’s monologue to the best of his abilities. 

“Holy shit, dude,” Jungwon says once he’s finished, flopping down on his bed. “It’s like the opposite of enemies to lovers.”

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “It’s sad, Jungwon. Y/n lost her future job and Seungcheol at the same time. And now they can’t even be civil with each other because they’re holding grudges.”

Jungwon mulls over his words for a minute. “Maybe I’ll ask y/n about it when she’s drunk tomorrow.”

“How do you even know she’s going to be drunk tomorrow, Won?” Chan asks his teammate.

He turns to flash a cheshire grin at Chan before plainly stating, “she’s either going to podium and drink to celebrate, or she’s going to do bad and drink to mourn.”

Chan rolls his eyes once again. “Speaking of which, I’m going to bed. No matter how well I do tomorrow, you’re paying for my drinks.” He drags himself out of Jungwon’s room and down the hall to his own.

You and Oscar are sitting at a table in the far back of the club, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the afterparty. Mingyu from Ferrari, his trainer Jungkook, Mark from Red Bull, and Chenle from Aston Martin are also gathered around. You’re enjoying the light conversation, basking in the high of your win.

Mark catches your attention after a minute of you spacing out, pointing toward the closest bar. “Isn’t that your little shadow, y/n?” When you look over you see Jungwon conversing with a blonde kid around his age. 

“Yeah,” you muse. “Kind of recognize the kid he’s talking to too. Can’t put a finger on his name though.” 

“That’s his teammate from F2. Lee Chan I think,” Oscar pipes up from across the table. “The kid with the otter helmet.”

A collective “ohhh,” leaves everyone at the table. “I’m going to get another drink,” you tell them. “Might bring the kids back with me.”

Mingyu snickers at you as you leave. “You can’t adopt them all, y/n!” he shouts as you leave. You flip him off behind your back. 

Approaching the bar, you order another drink for yourself and saunter over to where Jungwon is standing. “Hi Wonie,” you say, catching him by surprise as you ruffle his hair a bit. You turn to acknowledge his teammate too. “Hi Chan.”

Chan points back at himself like he’s surprised you know his name. “Is your name not Chan? Oh fuck I’m too drunk for this.” you berate yourself out loud. 

“Uh no ma’am, my name is Chan. Just surprised you know me, that’s all.” he says. 

You giggle a little bit. “Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old. You’re the kid with the otter helmet, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, before correcting himself. “No, I mean, yes. Yes, I’m the kid with the otter helmet.” You can hear Jungwon cackling at his friend behind you. 

You smile at him again before turning back to Jungwon. “Well I’m heading back to sit with those four dumbasses,” you say, pointing back to your table where Jungkook and Mingyu are arguing over something on Mark’s phone. “You two wanna keep me company so I don’t have to deal with them by myself the entire night?”

Jungwon lights up at the question. “Of course!” he practically shouts, and drags a begrudging Chan by the arm to follow you.

When you reach the table, you pat the empty seat next to you, gesturing for Jungwon to sit. Chan grabs the chair next to Mingyu, who messes with his hair and murmurs something about, “the otter kid.”

Jungwon seizes his opportunity ten minutes later, when Mingyu and Oscar are engrossed in a conversation with Chan, Jungkook has gone to the bathroom, and Mark and Chenle are on a video call with Mark’s boyfriend.

“I’m surprised you’re okay with Chan being here,” he says to you as quietly as possible, while still trying to be louder than the music. 

Your eyebrows scrunch at the comment, clearly confused. “Why?” you ask him.

You follow his eyes as they search around the crowd. They land on Seungcheol. Still facing your rival, he says, “Chan is a Merc Junior. Seungcheol is his mentor.”

Letting your eyes wander back to Jungwon, you steel your face into something more serious. “Jungwon, just because Chan is being mentored by a driver I hate doesn’t change my opinion of him.”

“You really hate him?” Jungwon asks. “I understand you guys don’t like each other for whatever reason, but hate is a strong word, right?”

You sigh at him. “Hate is in fact a strong word Jungwon,” is all you say and you leave it at that.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he decides to push his luck again. “...Chan said you guys used to be really close. When you were in F2 like us.” 

“Yeah,” is all you say in response. The conversation is just barely hanging on by a thread.

“I don’t want me and Chan to end up like that.” It’s kind of a low blow, he thinks, especially when you’re a little drunk, but it works. You turn to him with sad eyes and reach out to rub his hand comfortingly. 

You whisper so lowly, Jungwon can barely hear it. “You won’t end up like us, Wonie. I promise.”

The near tears in your eyes have him getting emotional too. All signs are showing that Seungcheol’s story is likely true. One last test to find out. “Why not?” he asks.

The tears are getting closer to spilling over and you turn your head to blink them away. While you’re still facing away, you mumble, “your relationship isn’t like ours. At least I hope it’s not.”

Hook. Line. Sinker. Jungwon’s got it now. Seungcheol was definitely telling the truth. He feels a little guilty about prying it out of you like that, but you seem to have sobered up with the conversation. Oscar’s voice breaks both of you out of your little bubble. “Y/n, everyone is going to head back to the hotel soon. You ready?”

You nod vigorously at the man, probably to hide the fact that there are tears in your eyes. You hop off your chair, grabbing your bag and your phone. Then, you lean down to ruffle Jungwon’s hair a bit. “Goodnight Wonie. You and Chan be safe tonight please.”

After bidding everyone else goodbye in the lobby, you and Oscar take the elevator up to your floors. Oscar’s room is one floor beneath yours, so he says goodnight with a comforting hug and a congratulations on the win. As you ride the elevator up once more, you think back to your conversation with Jungwon. Next time you see Seungcheol, you need to tell him to keep his mouth shut.

The elevator doors open and you turn to head to your room. You see a familiar flash of blonde hair round the corner. What convenient timing. You pick up your pace and grab his sleeve, and he whips around with a deadly look in his eyes. It only slightly softens when he realizes it’s you. You shoot him an equally deadly look back. “You want to tell me why my mentee was asking me questions about our relationship?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is all he says. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid Cheol. You know Jungwon and Chan are teammates. What did you tell Chan?” As much as he wants to hate you right now, his heart can’t help but skip a beat when you call him Cheol. It’s been so long since you’ve called him that. 

“I didn’t tell Chan anything. Why would I tell him about anything other than racing?” he counters back.

It’s not believable enough for you, so you push. “Jungwon said something about Chan knowing we were close in F2.” 

Seungcheol, tired and wanting to just go to bed, tries to pull his sleeve out of your grip, but you relent. “You can look that up on the Internet y/n. Would you please let me go to bed?”

“No Seungcheol. This concerns both of us. He was asking all the right questions. If you told Chan about us, there’s no guarantee he keeps it to himself. He clearly already told Jungwon.”

He finally frees his sleeve from your grasp. “Can we at least take this somewhere private?” he whispers. You nod and he pulls you down the hall. He’s taking you to his room, you realize and the thought makes you sick.

Once safely inside of his room, he turns back to you with a fire in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have to worry about any of this if you forgave me.” It’s not the words you were expecting to hear, but they also don’t surprise you. 

You try your best to compose yourself. “You ruined my career Seungcheol. Of course I never forgave you.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I clearly did not ruin your career. Look at yourself right now. You’re getting paid more than me. You’re way ahead of me in the championship. Your career is perfectly fine.” This comment starts what is basically a slightly hushed screaming match. 

“I had to fight my way in and got lucky with McLaren. I had a guaranteed seat at RB and you know that.” 

“You know it’s for the best that you didn’t end up there.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay!”

“What was I supposed to do, y/n. I couldn’t have stopped that press guy, I couldn’t have stopped Christian from releasing you, I couldn’t have controlled any of this. But you were the one that stopped talking to me. Just because we cut things off doesn’t mean I had to deal with radio silence for the next year.”

You pause, thinking over what you’re about to tell him. “I had to.”

He crosses his arms and he straightens his posture. “Bullshit.”

“I had to because of the press guy,” you tell him, urgently. 

“We took care of him, y/n,” he deadpans at you. He’s getting uncomfortable with the conversation now. He can’t sit still. 

Tears well in your eyes at the thought of releasing your biggest secret to the man you once loved. “He’s your fucking superfan Seungcheol. He’s been following you since your karting days, like a creep. That’s why he found us in the paddock that day. He was following you. And when he saw us together he took it as an opportunity. He saw me as a threat to your career. He didn’t just get rid of my Red Bull seat. He threatened me for months after through phone calls and emails, saying that if he ever saw me talking to you, he would end my career for good this time.” 

The tears in your eyes have finally spilled. Seungcheol’s heart breaks, both at your words and at the sight of you crying. After a minute of gaping at the revelation, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. He rests his chin on top of your head as he lets you sob into his chest. 

“He,” you stutter, “he told me that if I didn’t let you win the F2 championship, he would kill me. That’s why I crashed at Baku and didn’t podium the rest of the year.” You rest your head back against his chest and sob again, harder this time.

Seungcheol reaches up to slowly stroke the back of your head, trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so, so sorry.”

He already knew everything was his fault, but this makes it so much worse. People were threatening to kill you because of him? Suddenly, it dawns on him. How much of an absolute dickhead he’s been. For years he’s been pretending to hate you, throwing mean comments at you, picking fights with you, all while you were trying to protect yourself. “Why did you play along?” he asks.

You don’t look up. Instead, you just let out a questioning hum into his chest.

“The rivalry,” he says. “Why did you play along with it if you didn’t really hate me?”

“It’s good for publicity” you joke. There’s the y/n he knows and loves. Loves. He hasn’t thought about you like that in a long time. Now that he knows the truth, he wants you back in his life so bad. But he knows he doesn’t deserve it. 

“Is the guy still threatening you? Is that why you played along?”

You shake your head. “No. I was trying to negotiate for a bodyguard in my McLaren rookie contract and Andrea asked why. I didn’t want to tell him, but I had to. It would’ve gotten out eventually I think, had Andrea not had him arrested.”

“But why y/n? I’m still trying to understand why you didn’t tell me this. Why did you make it seem like you hated me too?”

You finally look up at him again, brave enough to make eye contact once more. “I thought it was too late to tell you. I had already lied to you, ignored you. That’s not the best way to come back into someone’s life.”

“It was for your own safety. I would’ve understood that,” he tells you softly. Your eyes are bloodshot and the area underneath them is puffy. His heart aches. This is all because of him. 

You shake your head again. “I didn’t think like that at the time. And you had already brought the rivalry into the media. Of course I would be mad at you when you were talking shit about me to the press.”

It’s not a guilt trip on purpose, but it still hits him where it hurts. “Ok, y/n. I get it. I’m a dick.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” you mumble, helplessly.

Silence overtakes you both. Despite the circumstances, it’s not an uncomfortable one. Just two people mulling over their thoughts. Eventually, he breaks it with a whisper of “I miss you.” 

You whisper back an “I miss you too.” It’s real and genuine. You don’t say it because you feel like you have to. You say it because you want to. You hope he can pick up on that. 

He does. His forehead comes to rest against yours as his hand strokes your cheek. His eyes flick to your lips and you hold your breath. As his lips find yours, you feel years of tension release. A stray tear runs down your face and he brushes it away with his thumb. He pulls away.

“Do you,” he breathes out, “do you want to try again?” All you can do is nod in response. 

[sakuraryomen01]

Valentino /Sukuna Ryomen x Fem! Reader/ .11 [Slight Nsfw]

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, ec project with Nickolas the transfer student, drunk sukuna shows up at the dorm(!?), a small makeout session, some sexual touching and mentions of grinding/humping at readers thighs, caring for this stressed out man-slut, ooc sukuna.

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 5.036k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 .11 .12 .13 .14 .15 .16 .17 .18 .19 .20

a/n: hey guys! sorry for the delay ^^ i've been wanting to get some chapters drafted before posting them! ty sm for the patience i hope u enjoy and r ready for the upcoming drama between sukuna and y/n!

a/n 2: so so sooooo sorry for being three days later after saying i'd be posting right away!!>< I was with family and the wifi was being iffy the last few days. I couldn't access many of my socials and much less work on the final draft of the chapter!! i powered thro until i was satified and it's finally here! i hope you enjoy!!

chapter/idea cred to: @misslauravillanueva i needed to give credit for the help! i was struggling on what to do!><

. . .

Thank you for reading this! Enjoy!

“Achoo!”

“Ah, are you alright?” Geto’s cool tone echoed from the kitchen, his brow raised with a curious expression written on his face. “Coming down with something? I told you to relax from studying for a while–”

“It’s not that!” You huff, cheeks burning with embarrassment. ”I just sneezed. I don’t know why though..”

“Okay, relax. I’m not gonna get upset.”

With a pout, you leaned against the armrest of the couch. Bowl of mac and cheese with little hot dogs in hand and a Coke on the coffee table. Eyes returning back to the TV screen and watching the current crime show playing, listening to the crimes that the murderer committed as he was handed a death sentence. 

Sometimes, when I let my mind wander to Sukuna.. It feels like that.

The idea that he’s now stuck on your mind despite all the anger he had towards you. The almost strange obsession and addiction to the idea of him. While you’ve been repetitively trying to control these new emotions and thoughts, you couldn’t help it. Seeing Sukuna that day in Ec class all those days ago. Having to tutor him. Even dealing with his weird smirks and teasing.

..That kiss too..

“Your face is doing that thing again, Y/n,” Geto’s voice chirped out of nowhere, causing you to jolt in your spot. “So jumpy over a guy? You know therapy exists, right?”

Returning a rather poorly chosen burn, Geto stood from his spot on the couch and waved a hand at you. Grabbing his things and his shoes from the carpet near the door, he sent you another telling look.

“If you're this upset, just ask what's up. Seriously, seeing you get stressed over this is kinda.. sad.”

There was a stabbing pain in your chest. You knew.

“Good night to you too, Suguru,” You hum, leaning on your fist as the door closed with a click. Leaving you alone in the dormitory for a few moments.

Your thoughts clouding your headspace until you decided to go to bed. Unable to understand this dreadful lil thing people called love, unable to understand why Sukuna Ryomen had crawled his way into your heart just by being an ass.

Tomorrow is another day.. Right?

. . .

“Today we'll be picking partners for class projects!”

Eh?? Ehhhhh????

You blinked a few times at the announcement, looking down towards Toji as students began to groan and complain a little. Quickly these were silenced as Toji lifted a stack of papers and chuckled deeply in his husky voice.

“It's not my problem, just get them done. You have two weeks to do it, so get your partners. The class is uneven so be ready for one of y'all's groups to have an extra person. It's a self-pick topic type of thing so start discussing today or tomorrow your topic and go with it!”

Toji tapped the papers on his desk and sat, letting his tie loose as he started relaxing for the rest of the period.

“If you need suggestions for your topic, there's a list in here along with your presentation requirements. I expect all names and correct citations with these as well.”

You let out a small groan and rub your temple. Not only were you stressed, now you had to deal with this? Extra shifts at work couldn't save you from this type of annoyance. It's not that you hated group projects, it's just a small tick when half of them throw the work onto you.

Pros and cons. Pros– none. Cons– work was usually tossed onto you.

You stood from your desk and began making your way down the steps to grab a paper. A strange chill ran up your spine as you passed Sukuna’s. Sparing a glance over, your cheeks warmed almost immediately.

Some bits of hair were pinned back and a pen rested on an ear. His shirt had a few buttons undone with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Black pants tight enough to have made a bakery spawn on the seat he sat upon. He looked really handsome, daring to battle even Toji’s good looks, and it was getting to you. 

What hit the nail in the coffin is when he just so happened to catch you ogling with your tongue practically hanging out of your mouth. His eyes sharpened at your expression as a smirk curled at the corners of his lips.

An almost playful yet teasing smile you weren't used to seeing on his face caught you off guard. It made your face hot, and your shame grow a few beats in that moment.

“Stop creeping” was basically what his face was saying.

Letting out a strained cough, you covered your face and made your way back up to your desk. Positive that his eyes had followed you all the way up the stairs before you sat in your spot. Hiding behind the paper and some random book you grabbed from your bag.

You couldn't be more obvious, could you?

While fellow students started to shift in their seats and partner up with friends and just random buddies from in the room, Sukuna was swarmed with a small audience of girls as he stood from his seat to also fetch a paper. The guys that sat around him gave him annoyed side-eyes and snorts as he absorbed the attention from all the women in the room. 

“Sukuna, do you wanna partner with me?” One asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and letting the blush on her cheeks show.

“Me too, we could all do it together!” Another spoke up, poking her button nose into their conversation. Her bright green eyes staring up at Sukuna with a needy gleam.

It makes you confused to an extent, making you press your brows together as you look to the side. Sukuna probably thought that's what you looked like every time you saw him. It makes your heart ache and head throb, another grand headache to your already upsetting day.

Just let your mind be normal for once in your life.

You begin to gather your things and part from the room, the hustle and bustle of the classroom quietly fading into the background. Letting out a relaxed sigh as the sight of your bed creeped into the corners of your mind– oh, how you wished to be relaxing in bed with your favorite stuffy.

“Hello, miss? Would you like to be my partner for the project?” A voice suddenly called from behind you, somewhat echoing throughout the quiet hallways. It startled you since you didn’t expect anyone to follow you out of the classroom asking such a thing, it piqued your interest.

Lifting your head, you come face to face with someone you didn’t know.

His dark hair was up in a bun with his undercut showing behind his pierced ears, a kind smile flashing behind yet another piercing on his lip. Tanned skin that seemed to glow like it was pampered with the best beauty products around, not a scar or pimple in sight. Cute dimples at the corners of his lips adding to his boyish charm while his honey eyes gleamed at you. It reminded you of Yuji in a sense, but this was not Yuji.

You’ve never seen this guy before– a really cute one at that.

“Hello,” you say, momentarily stunned at the stranger, letting your hand weakly wave. “Uhm, partner?”

There was an adorable chuckle that furthered your stunned silence before you heard a response. “Yes, I saw you walk out here alone and thought you might need one.”

You take in a deep breath, regaining your composure quickly and patting yourself down. “Ah, right. I actually don’t like having a partner, my past experiences have led me to conclude that they’re not the best option for a project. Besides, I’m a big girl, I can handle one on my own.”

“I can see why,” He starts, looking back at the classroom with the still clamoring students before returning his attention to you. “That horde in there was after one guy, they don’t care about this project. I was actually about to do the same as you when I saw my choices were so low.”

Rubbing a big calloused hand over his nape, the strangers’ almond eyes looked from the empty halls and to you, his smile sheepish. “Please? Don’t make me beg now.”

There was a small silence between you and the stranger as you considered walking off and letting him go with his original plan before the Economics class erupted with whines as Sukuna and a girl walked from inside. The color left your cheeks, seeing the girl’s arm wrapped tightly around Sukuna’s. Looking as if he was protecting her from the growing crowd of the class, engaging in an active conversation as they walked on by.

Your heart sank sharply, seeing Sukuna letting someone else into his circle. He used to be so cold, so annoyed with people when he was younger. Only letting you really hold him that close, giving you nuzzles of appreciation since he didn’t like to say it aloud.

Now, he gives you the cold shoulder and holds others that aren’t you close.

Without letting your head finish its last thought and your eyes still trained on the back of Sukuna’s head, you gave a nod and looked back at the stranger. “Sure. I’m Y/n L/n, by the way.”

“Really? That’s great!” He smiled, the warmth of his company lightening your mood sufficiently more than it was a few moments ago. “My name’s Nickolas Alveres, it’s nice to meet you, L/n.”

The both of you share a smile for a second before Nickolas nods down the hall, motioning for the both of you to head to your next classes. He doesn’t wait for you to join him, but you do anyway. Trying to make small talk with him as you try to get to know your partner, letting the smile on your lips stick.

While you wore a smile, someone else had a frown. A deep scowl, if you will. You didn’t feel it, but Sukuna’s partner saw it.

She raised a brow, cheeks tinted a slight color as she cast her gaze in the same direction. Seeing you close to another man, only escalating the befuddlement.

“What’s wrong, Sukuna?”

A disgruntled look was plastered all over said man’s face, his frown so prominent it was a waste of time to even attempt to hide it. A chasm of wrinkles forming on his forehead as his brows pressed together at the sight before him. Watching the way you and some kid walked side by side with a smile on your face, not a care in the world.

When did you get so chummy?

“It’s nothing.. Let’s go, Haru,” He said, not sparing a second to look back at you. With a huff, he pulled his work partner, Haru, with him to the nearby library to find a good subject for this project.

It’s what he wanted anyways.. right?

. . .

“Wait, wait.. He punched Gojo in the face?!” Nickolas laughed, holding his cup up to his lips quickly to cover his giggles and chuckles. His nose crinkled up as they continued despite his obvious resistance. “He must’ve been drunk too to get so defensive!! I thought he was just a jerk most of the time.”

“Usually he is,” You start, crossing your legs under the coffee table. Looking over some of the notebooks the both of you had sprawled out onto the wood to look for any good topics to talk about in the presentation. Quickly, you scribbled out one, taking a sip from your cup and looking back up to Nickolas. “Recently though, he’s been alright. Not as mean as he used to be, but not one-hundred percent rude and annoying.”

A calm silence filled the air as Nickolas rested his work in his lap, taking a moment to look from them to you. “Speaking of, how long have you known this guy? You talk about him like he’s an old friend.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards for a short second before you let your face relax. “He was. Not really interested in joining forces again recently.”

Nickolas nodded his head in understanding, eyes glazing over somewhat on what response to give. Seeing that the idea of this guy somehow hurt you, it got him concerned. Why bother letting him get to you so deeply if this is the result? It doesn’t make sense.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, Y/n,” He mustered after a short silence, placing his cup on the coffee table and letting his ring tap against the plastic. “If he’s still letting you be this close, even helping you care for a friend, that’s gotta be something.”

You nod numbly, knowing the obvious has been said too many times. Talk to him, ask him how he’s doing about the relationship, what does he want from you? The same three things that you always wanted to say when you were with him, but how. Other than tutoring, other than being near each other in class, you and Sukuna spent little to no time together.

All you remember about him is that he was the tough kid in school with home problems that liked to play tag and hide and seek. That he scared you with bugs and frogs while at the lake or near the Willow tree. The fond memories you shared with him couldn’t be the only factor that you had to use to judge what you wanted, you had to be around him more.

How was going to be the hardest puzzle to solve.

“Oh well,” Nickolas yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “It’s about time i get headed to my dorm. I have an early class tomorrow. I’ll leave you my number so that we can plan meetings for the project!”

Jokes and laughter filled the room as you and your partner exchanged information when there was a loud commotion at the door. You glanced from Nickolas to the dorm door and let out a light hearted chuckle, waving your hands next to your head.

“Ah, I’ll go get that! Gather your things, okay?”

Nickolas nodded and turned to his open binder and mess of notebook paper splayed on the coffee table, humming to himself as you rushed over to the front door. Hair stood at attention when you opened that door, seeing a messed up man laying on the hallway floor. A big wine bottle squeezed tightly in his right hand, the other placed next to his head on the floor.

His voice came out in gentle hums of some random rock song, lyrics jumping out from his mouth every second or so in a drunken daze. His fluffy hair was messy and almost unrecognizable until you realized who it was.

It was Sukuna.

“Wh.. What are you doing here?” You shout, shocked at his arrival, but there was not really a response. Only his hand raising to wave his finger around to the hum of his song. “Sukuna, answer me!!”

“..rather be.. Than lonely..”

Letting out a sigh, you look back at Nickolas and see his confused face staring at the gap between you and the door down at Sukuna. He stood there ready to go with his bag strap on his shoulder and keys in hand, giving you quick glances for some semblance of an answer. You give a small shrug, looking back to the immobile man on the ground.

Gently, you kick at one of his legs to try and get something out of him. “Sukuna, get up!”

Not a single thing, just a grunt and a tussle before your eyes finally connect with glazed ones. Maroon pools that were foggy beyond belief, not having a thought behind them. Nickolas tilts his head to the side and shakes it, giving you a pat on the arm and a sheepish smile.

“I'll get out of your hair, Y/n. Good luck!”

You step out of the man’s way, looking down at the disgruntled Sukuna and give a weak chuckle. Parting ways with Nickolas for the evening and kneeling down to Sukuna and shaking his shoulder. “Sukuna, you’ll get sick, get up.”

“..Doesn’t matter,” Sukuna mumbled, closing his eyes and taking a sip of his drink. “F’m sick, I’ll just be sick..”

“It does matter, now get up.”

You did your best to pull Sukuna up by his arm and into a sitting position, hooking the limp appendage over your shoulder and lifting him up onto his feet. It was a struggle since Sukuna was so heavy, but you managed. The stench of alcohol reeked from his breath and shirt, mixes of dirt and some stains that you didn’t feel the need to ask where they came from. 

Stumbling into your dormitory you freed the near empty beer bottle from Sukuna’s grasp and pulled the door close. He wasn’t giving much fight– probably due to the amount he drank– and just leaned his weight onto you. Mumbling to himself about things you weren’t going to pressure him into answering. Still, it made you wonder.

What the hell drove him to come to my place?

Surely, he wouldn’t mind answering that.

With a huff to your lips you plopped Sukuna’s heavy ass onto the couch and folded your arms. The beer bottle in your hand swirling around as you rotate your wrist ever so slightly, brow raising at Sukuna’s nearly asleep form. It was odd to see the big, strong and mean Sukuna Ryomen on his last leg from intoxication. 

Despite this, you found it cute.

“I’ll go get you some water and maybe a change of clothes,” You announce, tilting your head to see if that gauges a reaction. Sadly there was nothing but a huff and some finger taps on the couch’s cushions. Letting your arms fall to your side, you grunt and place the beer on the table. “Whatever, I’ll be right back.”

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and some extra sheets from your bedroom before making your way back into the living room to Sukuna. A fresh set of clothing was provided, thanks to Geto’s many late night bang sessions with Shoko, and some cooling pads were placed next to Sukuna on the couch. He didn’t do much but glance at the items, turning his face away in– what you assumed– was a quiet protest.

Sukuna never acted this petty and spoiled before. What’s gotten into him?

“Let’s get you changed, yeah?” Gently, you press your hands to his chest, earning a reaffirming nod and proceeding to undo the buttons of his collared shirt. 

It was strange to be in this position. On your knees, undressing the man you’ve pinned for for so long, only to be seeing this messy and unkempt side you didn’t like to imagine him being. The feelings in your chest that you wanted to put away were making your heart race once more, every glance you got to see from the mess you called Sukuna.

His hair made him resemble his brother more than anything else now, hanging over his sweaty forehead and tattoo. Arms hanging loosely at his sides, man spreading for all of the world to see. Shamefully, you enjoyed the calm attention. Even though it was unsightly, you liked getting to touch all over Sukuna’s body.

“There,” You mumble to yourself, having officially released Sukuna from his shirt. “N-Now, onto your..”

Trailing off, you look down at Sukuna’s pants. Swallowing thickly at the idea of pulling off his trousers, you took a deep breath. I’m never going to live this shame down!

Gently, you began to undo his belt. You face burning ever more as the air began to tense, wishing that anyone but you would be this bashful over something so silly. Still, regret hit you harder than the embarrassment or shame ever could.

Sukuna was watching you. Watching your hands slip the belt loose, pulling his button undone and pulling at his waistband. You tugged, unable to yank them down and free his lower half.

“Sukuna.. Can you lift your hips?” You ask in a soft voice, startled by the quick response. But what was it really, he was watching your every move. You felt like you were being examined in some office and not helping Sukuna undress. “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

Making haste of the situation, you pulled down the fabric of his trousers and grabbed the loose shorts you had found from earlier. Ignoring all thoughts of Sukuna and how perfect his legs looked, the thick black bands of his tattoos on the fat of his thigh. The way the bulge in his briefs was much a cause for distraction, even denying that it twitched once freed from it’s confines.

Yep, never happened.

“There, all better,” You sigh, satisfied. “Now that your ready for bed, I’m going to do the same.”

It took a few minutes, but you had completely reclothed Sukuna and he now looked more sleepy and ready for bed rather than drunk off his ass and about to black out on the couch. You had struggled to even get him to take a sip of water and sober up, but to no avail. You figured you’d have to try again tomorrow morning and explain the situation once he woke up in a confused fit.

Getting him comfortable on the couch too was another ordeal you didn’t think you’d go through, but you did. Tucking in the large male until he was all cozy and warm, safely resting his head on one of your spare pillows.

“I’ll see ya in the morning, Ryo,” You mumble, letting your mind wander for a moment and tracing the outline of one of his tattoos on his bicep. Feeling the muscle twitch under your touch momentarily.

“Mgh,” Sukuna muffled out, cheeks warm to the touch.

Letting out another sigh, you stand from your spot next to the couch. Only to be pulled back towards the culprit at hand, falling ass first next to his lap. Sukuna didn’t make a sound, just grasped onto your hips and pulled you in for a hug. His arms anchored around your lower stomach, pressing into the arch of your spine and forcing you to press against him as well.

His nose was pressed into the crook of your shoulder, but you continued to crusade for answers from the sudden affection. “AGH! Sukuna, that was highly uncalled for!! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Answer me, dammit–!!”

“Who was that guy?”

You flinch, caught off guard. The clarity and conviction in Sukuna’s voice was strange, seeing as he had been stumbling and leaning into you for the last few moments. “Uhm, my Economics partner Nickolas. It shouldn’t matter, you need to sleep!”

“I don’t need sleep,” Sukuna grunts out, lifting himself off of the couch and trapping you underneath him. Using his big arms like a cage, eyes locking you in place with a vice on your heart. “What was he doin’ hanging here?”

“Sukuna, this is childish,” You start, ready to defend yourself for a confrontation. “He’s my class partner, you shouldn’t be upset over it.”

Wait.. why was he upset?

Previously, he had never seemed to give a flying fuck what you did or whom you did it with. What’s with the sudden change of heart? It made yours ache at the possibilities, wondering what could it be that made him so hostile all of the sudden over Nickolas.

“I barely know him anyways..”

“And you let him sit here on this couch?”

There was a small slap sound as skin met skin, Sukuna’s palm and fingers grasping your chin and cheeks. A gentle but firm squeeze sent shivers down your spine, your hand reaching up to try and pull Sukuna’s off but to no avail. His eyes scanned your face for anything, a sign.

Something. Anything that would make this ache in his chest stop.

“What is he to you, huh?” His voice came out rough, deep. Intimidating. 

It was scary, but a shudder was sent up your spine. A lustful and unneeded shudder, one that sent ideas to your brain. That made your mind wander, but you held them back. 

Even as Sukuna’s lips captured yours, as his teeth grazed and nibbled at your lower lip, your hands reached up to tangle themselves in his pink locks. You had to deny, because the Sukuna that was here wasn’t really him. It was a drunk and dissociated version of him, a side that you normally didn’t see. 

A side that he probably didn’t like showing.

“Did you let him do this, mh?” Sukuna muttered, pulling away from your mouth. A string of saliva connecting the both of you for a moment as your lungs fought for breath. Chest rising and falling heavily, your hands hold onto Sukuna’s arms, trying to find something to stabilize yourself in this mess of kisses.

“N-No, we just.. Talked about class–”

“Talked? About class? Me? You?”

Sukuna retreated his touch from your face and instead placed them on your thighs. Laying beside you on the couch, keeping you trapped against his chest and making sure to dress the blankets over you.

“Sukuna, seriously, this isn’t funny anymore,” You whimper, covering your face. How could you push this away? You’ve wanted nothing but to be closer to him, haven’t you?

Desired, pleaded. You wanted everything.. But this wasn’t the way.

Feeling Sukuna’s hands wrap around your waist, having his hot breath on your neck and shoulder as he rutted his hips against the fat of your ass. You felt utterly guilty, like trash. Wanting to crawl away from Sukuna and save him the little grace he had, to avoid giving him something to wake up and regret tomorrow.

“Y/n.. look at me.. Look at what you’ve done,” The man in question ordered, hooking your top leg over his elbow. Letting the bulge in his pants grow more and more, his voice becoming ragged and deep as he got harder and harder. “You’re making a mess of me, can’t you tell?”

You nod, wanting to pull away and sleep in your bed. But the desires in you only wanted you to fall deeper. The strings of your heart being plucked as Sukuna’s lips found the sensitive skin of your neck. Marking and sucking, lewd sucking sounds erupting from his lips as he made harsh hickeys form on the skin.

Mewl after moan escaped you, your pussy wet and slick under the confines of your panties and pajama bottoms. Sukuna could tell, releasing your leg from his hold and slowing his hips for a moment until his hand migrated to your front.

Grinding the flat surface of his palm against your clothed cunt, whispering naughty words into your ear that you had to drown out. Even if the wants in your belly wished for Sukuna to be there, to fill up your insides and make a mess. To be closer than he’s ever let you been for the last month or so, you had to stop this.

And you did, with much regret.

“Sukuna, stop,” You whimper, pulling Sukuna’s hand away from your body. Breaths coming out in baited huffs, you sat up. Not taking a moment to let yourself get lured back in, feeling Sukuna’s hand find your waist again as you resisted further.

“Stop what?” He mutters, annoyance in his voice. Laced with an emotion you wished to unhear. “Didn’t you want this too?”

“Not like this.” Cold, respectful. You had to be this way, to give Sukuna another chance. Letting him have his way now in such a drunken state, you wouldn’t be able to recover a good relationship. “If I was like anyone else, you’d be taken advantage of.”

Sukuna’s touch softened, his glazed eyes clearing for a moment as he looked at the back of your head. Seeing a shimmer of something on your cheek, his fingers trembled. He desired to reach up, to brush those tears away. It was against his very nature, his very being.

He didn’t like the idea of being all cuddly and cozy, being soft and vulnerable with someone. The idea of it made his stomach churn and made the urge to vomit impending. 

But, with you. Seeing those tears form, for his sake. He felt irritated with himself. He caused it. Him.

“I’m going to bed now,” You say, voice shaken up. “Get some water, sleep.”

You stood from your place on the sofa and walked over to the small hallway, entering your bedroom and letting out a shuddering exhale. A weight was now firmly sitting on your chest. It ached, it hurt, it burned.

Everything that pain felt like was exploding in your chest. Reaching up a hand to try and comfort yourself wasn’t worth the effort either as you slid down the wood of your bedroom door. Curling into a feeble position as the tears fell from your eyes, finally free after holding them the whole time.

What you wished you could do about the man on your couch.

. . .

a/n: y'all i literally have a crippling addiction to crime videos and all that shit it's just so interesting for no reason oml (crying inside) also sorry for the month long pause (i say sorry too much) i was creating new characters and working on ideas for the next few chapters!

Chapter Song Them: — Granite - Sleep Token (Lyrics)

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