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all-my-love-for-harry · 3 days ago

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❧ Almost Eden (part two)

pairing; jake seresin x childhood friend!reader

summary; Jake is forced to return home, and no matter how hard he tries not to, he finds himself searching for even the smallest trace of you.

word count; 1.7k

a/n; part two is here!!! we did a little time jump to the present on this one. i'm still figuring out this type of narration, so my apologies if it seems a little weird at parts. also!! i know so far this is very-jake-based, but i promise next part they'll finally meet again!!! i just really want to establish who jake is now, that being said i'm hoping to finish part three even sooner as i can't stop thinking about these two lol!!

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GIF by unicornships

Present day.

As Jake grew up, so did his ego. And in many ways, he's earned the right to be cocky. The right to feel invincible. After all, he was the only aviator on active duty with two confirmed air-to-air kills. So what if his ego was so big it couldn't physically fit through the door?

But aside from being an incredible aviator, Jake was also only human. And humans get hurt when they eject from a moving plane and their parachute gets tangled at the last second. It shouldn't have surprised Jake as much as it did when they told him he'd need some time to heal the three broken ribs and the sprained wrist he got from ejecting during a training exercise.

In addition to his physical injuries, his ego was pretty bruised as well. His bigger than the fucking moon ego took a good hit after he woke up in the hospital bed and realized his long no-ejection record was gone. So when the papers were signed and his twelve-week leave was approved, saying he was irritated was an understatement.

He tried to avoid it by taking desk duty, which allowed him to remain on base. But Maverick was very adamant about him getting his rest and slowing down for the first time in forever. He didn't care about Jake's huffing and puffing as he helped him load his bags into his truck before driving him to the airport, where his flight to Texas would take him straight to his mama's house, where she'd nurse him back to health.

The sling on his left arm was making it a bitch to carry all his luggage while avoiding knocking someone over, and the Texan heath was already making him sweat. And while he was used to it, he was also still pissed at the whole situation which made him ten times more dramatic. And then he saw her—his mother, all five feet of her (heels and all), standing there just like she used to, hands clasped to her chest and wearing that wide, familiar smile—the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes, even from far away.

"My baby," Caroline cried as soon as Jake was within arm's length. She pulled him down in a crushing embrace, yet still careful not to brush against his left arm. "You scared me to death."

"I'm sorry, mama." He managed to say while he was still pressed against her shoulder.

"Why didn't you let me fly to you? I would've taken care of you while you were in the hospital." She finally let him go, but raised her hand to cup his cheek.

"All I did was sleep and eat tasteless gelo. Good news, you'll have me for about ten weeks." He said somewhat humorously. He then noticed Harry, his family's driver, standing on the side, watching the little reunion with fond eyes. "Good to see you, Harry."

"Glad to have you alive and well, Mr. Seresin."

"I don't know about well, but we'll see about that once I get you home, darling." His mother then asked Harry to get Jake's bags, wrapping an arm around his good side, still careful not to squeeze him too much, no matter how much she wanted to.

It had been years since Jake last came home. After he left for college and then joined the Navy, it seemed like her baby boy was too busy flying everywhere but to his hometown.

The ride to the Seresin's state was filled with her mother's never-ending share of town gossip, making sure he was up to date on everything that had happened in his absence. Still, it did not go unnoticed to him the way she carefully left out anything that had to do with you. Caroline never asked, never pried to know what happened all those years ago, and why Jake never made an effort to ask about you. To put it simply? He didn't think he deserved it. He didn't deserve to know what you came to be, who you came to be. He didn't deserve to know you, not even through his mother's stories.

Yet, what was weird is that his silence on you never stopped her from dropping a random update here and there. Through the years he knew when you made it captain of the equestrian team during your time in boarding school; he knew you never went home for the holidays not because you didn't want to but because your mother had insisted you stayed in Switzerland; he also knew how much it had broken you when your father passed away when you were twenty, but that he witnessed with his own eyes. The last time he saw you.

It had been seven years since he last saw your face. Life, he figured, had a cruel sense of humor—this was the first time he laid eyes on you in nearly a decade, and it was like time hadn’t moved at all. The same tear-streaked cheeks. The same glassy eyes, now older but still wide, still full of something fragile and breaking. Your baby face had sharpened—hollow now, with high cheekbones and a jawline more defined than anyone he knew. Your hair, once long and carefully styled, now fell in uneven waves to your shoulders, disheveled in a way he knew your mother would never have approved of. You looked different, older… but somehow still heartbreakingly familiar.

He didn't talk to you that night, but then again, you didn't talk to anyone. He had flown in just for the service, to pay his respects and express his condolences. Your father was an amazing man who never cared about money and status, only about keeping his family happy. Jake shook his head, not wanting to go down memory lane, and instead tried to focus on his mother's voice.

Still, a part of him wondered if now that he was home, he'd run into you. He knew you were in Texas; your Instagram bio said as much. He didn't follow you, your account was private, and he never dared to press the request button. He didn't deserve to know you. He didn't allow himself to think much about you, only when he was alone late at night with his lifelong insomnia, at a time when your brain likes to play tricks on you and show you all your mistakes in the form of a PowerPoint presentation. He's made a lot of mistakes, but his brain always haunted him with that day.

"House's quiet," Jake murmured, setting his duffel bag down once they were inside. "I'm guessing he's not here."

Caroline shot him a look. "Business trip, but he should be back by the end of the week. Charlotte and Victoria are coming over for dinner. In the meantime, why don't you go lie down? I had Martha prepare your old room."

Jake wished he could say he put up more of a fight, but the truth was he was exhausted. His physical injuries, combined with his lack of sleep due to the poor excuse of a hospital mattress, made his body yearn for a comfortable bed and, hopefully, a twelve-hour nap.

As he climbed the stairs, his eyes drifted to the photographs perfectly lined along the walls—snapshots of a picture-perfect family frozen in time. His two sisters, one older and one younger, smiled back at him from nearly every frame. They were his favorite people in the world—each married to kind, steady partners, each building a life not too far from home. Just the way their father liked it. Unlike Jake. In his father’s eyes, he was still the reckless one—the one who never stayed, never settled, never quite fit the frame.

But he didn’t care what David Seresin thought. Not anymore. Whatever sharp comment his father had ready, it couldn’t cut through the warmth of his mother’s voice, the way she always spoke to him with pride, even when he didn’t deserve it. Her steady encouragement, her unwavering belief in him, had long since drowned out the cold edge of his father’s disapproval. He might have inherited David’s eyes, but everything else—the heart, the fight, the stubborn hope, and the confidence—that was all Caroline.

He loved his family and missed them dearly, but God he wished he didn't have to see his father as well.

[...]

"Where is my convalescent little brother?" Victoria, his older sister, pushed past the door and made a beeline for Jake. Last time he saw her in person was when she went to visit him right after the Uranium Mission six months ago. She had been so worried about him, a phone call assuring her he was fine wasn't enough for her, she had to fly in to see that her little brother was in one piece. Once they hugged, she pulled away and flicked the back of his head.

"Hey!" He protested.

"That's for scaring us. Only you'd get your bones cracked to cause us a heart attack."

"I think he made a bigger deal when he fell off his bike when he was twelve." Charlotte finally stepped in, clinging to his good side.

"Well, yeah, but that was because he had Bambi on the back." The three women momentarily froze. "Who wants pie?!"

Jake rolled his eyes as his sister and mother scattered around the room, as if he'd react negatively at the mention of his childhood friend. Ex-friend, the voice in his head reminded him.

"They are terrible at disassembling, you know that, right?" Still, he followed them to the dining room, where tons of food were waiting for them as well as two of the housekeepers in case they needed anything.

"I saw her the other day." Charlotte softly said, keeping her voice quiet enough so only he would hear. "She seemed good, as good as you would expect someone to be after everything she's been through."

"Michael's death really changed her, or so mom has said."

"Well, yeah, but also—"

"Charlie, that's enough, sweetheart. Let's sit at the table." Caroline gently cut her off, guiding both of her younger children to their assigned seats.

Jake furrowed his brows, yet followed his mom's orders. He wanted to ask the youngest Seresin what she meant by her comment, and wanted to ask why his mom would cut her off like that. Jake never asked, but what he never did was pretend he didn't care whenever Caroline would throw him a bone, even the most minuscule detail about you. So why now would she go and deny him of those tiny crumbs he's been feeding off of?

What happened to you that was so bad he couldn't kn— They didn't think he deserved it either.

❧

taglist; @khouse712 @madsothree @xhazzz @daggersquaddoll

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bellasweetwriting · 2 days ago

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Something sweet about him { clark kent x f. reader }

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plot: maybe the smell of fresh flowers was all Y/N needed to clear her mind, and realize how much she desires her best friend Clark Kent.

tags: smut, fingering, +18 characters, y/n is spelled to act to her desires, what she truly wants

prompt: “maybe I can teach you a thing or two.”

Clark Kent stares at you as you walk across the Talon, holding a tray of recently brewed cappuccinos towards a table to the left of the place. The way your whole body tilts forward as you place the mugs on the round table, letting any passing bystander take a look at the way your jeans hug your thighs nicely, highlighting every inch he just dreams of touching.

“Clark!” Lana calls him, making the guy turn around quickly, embarrassed. “What are you doing?”

“Mhm? Nothing, nothing. Studying… stuff. I have a test soon.”

“You know you can talk to her, right? She’s your friend.”

“Talk to who?”

Lana laughed before walking away, leaving the path clear for you, as you dropped the tray on top of Clark’s table and sat right in front of him, sighing in an exaggerated manner. Your legs were killing you, your arms felt wobbly, and you were just glad to see Clark at your place of work.

“You owe me five bucks,” you said, looking at the books he had on top of the table. “I didn’t drop any coffee today, and in three minutes I finish my shift.”

“Anything could happen in three minutes.”

“You have so little faith in me, Kent, it’s becoming insulting. Besides, I have a deadline.” You showed him your drawings that you kept in your apron’s pocket. “I need to finish these for my composition class.”

“They look really good.”

“They’re trash. I have to start over.” You hand one to him. “Use it as a napkin for all I care.”

“Y/N,” another waitress called you, interrupting your conversation. “There’s a guy on the door for you. And he has flowers.”

You looked up, noticing Ryan, the guy you’ve been seeing for the past two weeks, standing there in front of the door with flowers in his hand, smiling widely. You smiled the same, standing up from the chair.

“I’ll see you at the farm later, Kent. Remember my five bucks.” You pat him on the shoulder, standing up from the chair and walking in his direction.

You’ve been seeing this guy for a few days, and you’re not sure if you see a future, but you’re free for him to change your mind.

“Flowers? I think you have the wrong girl, cowboy,” she joked, receiving them with a smile.

“I know, I know, but the woman that sold them to me said they were perfect to know what a girl truly feels, and there’s nothing I’d like more to actually get to know you, Y/N.”

“Am I that mysterious?” You asked, smiling.

“I’d say good at hiding.”

You looked down at the flowers, leaning over them and sniffing them, the naturalist and feminine smell of it hitting you up like a train, your thoughts suddenly clouded, but immediately cleared into the clearest they’ve ever been. Your thoughts have never been louder than this, clearer, exactly where your mind is has never been so… right.

“Clark,” you muttered.

•••

He wasn’t at the talon, he wasn’t in the loft, so, naturally, you searched for him at his farm, where Mrs. Kent greeted you with a smile on her face and welcoming arms.

“It’s so good to see you, sweetheart,” she mumbled softly as she wrapped you in her arms. “You look so good. So grown up, I’d say.”

“I try my best, Mrs. Kent,” you joked. “Is Clark around?”

“He’s in the kitchen. Come in.” You walked inside, your eyes going straight for the kitchen to see Clark Kent there, fixing the upper cabinet with a screwdriver. “Why are you wearing that big sweater? Aren’t you hot?”

“Boiling,” you muttered, staring at the back of your best friend as it arched.

His big arms, his muscles, all calling you, and finally you’ve being able to see the signal with a clear mind.

“Clark,” Mrs. Kent called him, gaining his attention. “Y/N is here.”

“Y/N, hey,” he said with a smile, dropping the tools on the counter and approaching you. “I thought we had scheduled for later. Where did you drop Ryan off?”

“Who cares about him?” You asked. “Can I show you something at the loft? If you’re not too busy, of course.”

“Yeah, sure. Are you okay, though? You seem a bit strange,” he asked, but you simply grabbed his hand, dragging him outside through the kitchen door. “Alright.”

You practically dragged him outside into the barn. He was probably a foot taller than you, could lift an elephant, and had the strength of a million men, but when it came to you, he let himself being dragged like a dog, a moth to a flame, he did not care.

As you reached the top of the loft, you let yourself fall onto the couch, staring at the object of your true desires clearer than ever.

Maybe the only people that didn’t know Y/N loved Clark Kent where Y/N and Clark Kent, because now that you did, everything seemed so clear. Whatever was in the pollen of that flower let you see things in a different perspective. He was what you wanted. Next to you, on top of you, inside of you. His big arms holding you, his body on top of yours, his hands touching your skin.

Your skin was practically boiling to the thought of Clark Kent without a shirt, let alone without pants.

“How long have we’ve been friends, Clark?” You asked, playing with the zipper of the oversized sweater you were wearing. “You’ve clearly grown up a lot. More than vertically. Do you think I’ve grown up too?”

“Uhm, well… yeah, yeah, you have. What’s going on?”

“And do you like what you see?”

“What?”

“I’ve seen you check me out, Clark. I even know which one of my jeans you like best by the amount of time you keep staring,” you said, playfully, making the big, strong, tall and handsome Clark Kent blush. “Am I wrong?”

“I didn’t think I was that obvious.”

“You’re a very bad liar, Kent,” you said, standing up, moving closer in his direction. “I like that you stare. Makes me want to pose more.”

He took a step back, practically crashing against the fence behind him. He let out a nervous chuckle, trying badly to stay away from the imminent force coming in his direction.

“I think something happened to you, Y/N. You’re not acting like yourself.”

“Actually, I think I’ve never seen things more clearer than this. You’re what I want, Clark, you’ve always been. You’ve always just been so… unattainable.”

“Unattainable?”

“Always have kept your distance. And I’ve respected it, rejecting my feelings, fooling myself. But now, for some reason, I’ve never seen the sky so bluer… Everything just makes sense. And I’m going after what I want, and it’s you. I want you.”

You grabbed his hand, making him hold the zipper of your sweater and pulling it down, revealing the outfit you’ve hidden underneath.

A red lace bra and short denim shorts that didn’t leave anything to interpretation.

“Do you want me too?”

He looked down, his breath slowly increasing as the sight of your breasts came so close to him he could practically lose it. He couldn’t contain his smile, your scent of vanilla and cinnamon making his judgement feel clouded, as the closeness of the object of his desires was making him loose his mind.

“Yes,” he said, as if it has slipped out and didn’t have time to even use reason. His heart, and his dick, were thinking for him. “Uhm… what… Uh, what are you wearing? Uhm…”

“Do you like it?”

“I think we need to talk about this first.”

“Don’t you think we’ve done plenty of that already? Maybe what we need is to shut up… and use our mouths for something else.”

The way your lips crashed into his took him by surprise. You tasted like cherry lip balm and fresh coffee, your hair was quick get his hands lost in, he grabbed you by the waist, holding you closer, pushing you deeper, as if the one that had been hiding his desires was him and not you.

He didn’t feel strange, he felt right at home, as if your lips were the most familiar sentiment he had ever experienced, even if it was his first time tasting them. It didn’t feel new, it just felt right.

“Wait,” he said, the sweater that was covering you falling to the floor, and your hands quickly loosening that first button, revealing his neck to you. “Y/N” He mumbled your name as your lips touched the skin of his neck. His eyes practically rolled out of their sockets to the back, his face melting at the touch. “Y/N,” he begged for mercy, placing his hand on the back of your head.

He grabbed the beam of the railing for support, breaking it instantly as he grabbed it too hard, splinters of wood falling all over the place.

“God!” He yelled.

You grabbed him by the shirt, pushing him to the coach. Then, you sat on his laps, the exposed skin of your thighs touching the harsh denim of his jeans. You finally ripped off the last buttons of his shirt, revealing that tone abdomen that drove you crazy all those visits to the lake, where you could see that glorious farm boy all exposed to the sun, the muscles of his back tensing as he swam. You couldn’t help yourself and licked his chest.

“Y/N, I really don’t want to hurt you,” he said, keeping his hands locked onto the coach.

“I’m not fragile, farm boy,” you said, smiling teasingly, “maybe I can teach you a thing or two.” You unbuckled his belt quickly, tossing it aside. “What do you think about riding?”

He gulped. “Horses?”

You smiled. “Sure, Kent,” you said, helping him by driving his hands to your breasts. “Have you ever done this before? Want me to take control?”

But then, a cheeky smile appeared on his face. He grabbed your waist and tossed you to the couch, your whole back leaning on the seat. He placed himself on top of you, the fire in his eyes growing, and you could swear you saw them turn orange like flames.

“I got it,” he said, smiling.

Clark Kent was a man of many mysteries.

“Are you sure want this?”

“I think I’ve been hiding for so long how much I’ve wanted this. How much I’ve wanted you,” you said under your breath, smiling bigger than you’ve ever had before. “Are you going to kiss me or not, Kent?”

“I’m going to do more than that,” he mumbled, joining your lips once more. “I really can’t believe this is happening,” he said, his lips still on top of yours, trying to hold back his smile in order to kiss you, but struggling to do so. “You’re so hot. Fuck…”

“Did you just swear?” You said, chuckling, as his lips found your neck, and his hands found the button of those tiny denim shorts you had on. “God…”

His hand slid inside your panties so quickly you thought it was inhuman. The way his fingers touched your clit made you crumble to pieces, melt into his big muscled arms. They barely touched it, leaving you wanting more. He just move his hand to your butt, squeezing it, smiling.

“You’re so wet,” he said.

“Clark,” you said as his hand move back to your front, his fingers close enough to touch, but not enough to make you feel what you want to. “Please…” you begged.

“I thought you were going to teach me,” he groaned, bitting your earlobe.

“You already know what I want.”

“Teach me how to make you cum,” he asked you lowly to your ear, your legs opening practically to the sound of his voice. “Show me what you like.”

You grabbed his hand, closing in the distance he had with your center, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his warm, rough, touch. You moved his hand in circles, in the rhythm you liked, your eyes on his as he watched you about to cum.

He was so mesmerized by you, by the way your breath was shaking up as you felt so close to completion, the way your face showed how much you liked what he was doing to you, the way he was handling your body.

“Clark,” you called him as your eyes closed. “Oh God, I’m about to…”

He kissed you, letting you moan in his mouth as the orgasm made your body tremble, shake you up.

You were completely out of breath, sweating, while he looked as if nothing had happened, he was completely fine.

“You okay?” He asked you, helping you sit back down on the couch. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no… I was just thinking… Why didn’t I do this sooner?”

“Come to my place in your underwear?”

“No… Just… Stop overthinking. I’ve known about my feelings for a long time. I just had to push those cloudy thoughts away.”

Clark smile, kissing you softly. “It was worth the wait.”

#clark kent au #clark kent fanfic #clark kent x reader #clark kent smallville #clark kent #smallville au #smallville x reader #smallville #tom welling x reader #tom welling fic #tom welling #fanfiction #fanfic #superman #superman x reader #superman fic

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joelsgoodgirl · 2 days ago

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Give You What You Like

Part 1: Strangers

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: E/ 18+ MDNI

WC: 5.2k

Summary: You were never supposed to see Joel Miller again. You'd traded your body for pills years ago, and it had ruined you. Even after you'd found your way to Jackson from Boston, he'd still managed to end up back in your life.

Tags: afab reader, sexual themes, oral sex (m receiving), penetrative sex, degradation, mean!joel, drugs for sex, alcohol use/abuse, drug use/abuse, age gap (joel is 50s/60s, reader is 20/30)

A/N: This is a three part series! I have posted it before, but I decided it needed a revamp. I hope you all enjoy! I made a playlist to listen to while you read that fits the vibe well. You can listen to it here. Each chapter is titled after a song.

AO3 Link Masterlist

You’d been in Jackson for almost three years now. You’d come stumbling through the snow, half frozen to death, delusional and starving. There’d been so many guns pointed at you, yet you still wouldn’t say it was the scariest moment you’d lived through in your thirty years of life. No, that was reserved for the moment Joel Miller came through that field with a teenager in tow.

It had been almost ten years since you’d seen him. You were never supposed to see him again.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.”

“So pretty down on your knees for me.”

“Such a good girl.”

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when someone clears their throat behind you, causing you to spin around on your barstool. You put on a fake grin as Tommy sits down next to you, beer already in hand.

“Doin’ okay?” He asks, the look on his face far too sympathetic for you. You’d overheard him talking to Maria about Joel one day, the name ringing in your ears after not hearing it for years. You’d told them the basic details. You’d known Joel for a few months in the Boston QZ. You’d gone on a few smuggles with him, but nothing more than that. You didn’t, couldn’t, tell them about how many times you’d ended up tangled in his sheets. You were young then, certainly too young for a rough man like him…But you were naive, impressionable.

Your grin drops, irritation taking its place. Of course you’re not okay. But it’s been too long, yet not long enough. You knew he was using you, you’d known it since the beginning. It was an offer at first, you’d gotten beaten by a FEDRA officer pretty badly, and Oxy was the best thing you could get. But at only twenty years old, you didn’t have much. So you’d given him your mouth. Down and dirty, no gentle touches or whispered words. Just the saltiness of him on your tongue and a baggie of pills in your pocket.

“I’m hanging in there. Weird to see old friends.” You make your voice as nonchalant as possible, giving him a reassuring smile. “Who’s the kid?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Dragged her from Boston, apparently.” Tommy says, giving a noncommittal shrug. “Takin’ her to Salt Lake in the mornin’. Says he isn’t gonna go, but I know he’ll change his mind.”

You swallow back your disappointment and hurt, but it must be visible on your face.

Tommy’s features become more concerned, his lips parting as he readied to ask you something.

You shake your head.

He was going to leave without a word. He’d barely even looked at you and he was already leaving.

You scowl against your own will, taking another heavy sip of your beer. “Well good.” You finally say, the energy behind your words not quite reaching. “Glad he’s finally doin’ something good.” That comes out more sincere, softer, as you stare at the bubbles in your beer, your eyes following the lines they create as they float to the surface.

Tommy looks at you sympathetically. You know he knows. He has to. He doesn’t say so.

You can feel the tears stinging your nose, and you have to bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. Not here, not now. You don't deserve to cry over him, not after all these years. You finish the rest of your beer and stand from the stool, patting Tommy on the shoulder once.

“I’ll see you around.” Is all you can manage before you’re walking out the doors.

It’s started to snow now, the fat flakes landing on your jacket. You feel the tears falling on your cheeks, streaking like boiling water against your freezing skin.

You manage to get to your home without fully breaking down, shuffling through the slowly accumulating snow as you sniff away your tears.

You reach for your bottle of moonshine, traded for one of your quilts, settling by the fire.

All you can think about is Joel. How he’s just a few streets away, likely packing to ditch in the morning. Without saying as much as a word to you.

You weren’t even sure if he recognized you. You’d had your hat on, your scarf pulled over your mouth as your gun pointed to him out in the snow covered field. You’d watched with mild irritation as the dog left both him and the girl alone. And his eyes had merely glanced over you, not a hint of recognition from him. It had stung, a sharp pain in your chest.

“Take the pills and get the fuck out. I ain’t got anymore time for a whore who ain’t nothin’ but a good fuck.”

His words come flying to the forefront of your mind when a quarter the bottle is gone. Those gut-wrenching, soul-piercing words.

He was never yours, not really. A means to an end. It was never supposed to end up like this.

An ache that never went away. He really had ruined you. His words constantly echoing in your head as you lay alone night after night.

You’d not been with anyone since.

You didn’t want to be.

Your frown deepens as you tip the bottle more and more, anger bubbling from a deep place you’d decided to lock away. You still weren’t sure if you were angry at him or yourself.

Angry at him for abandoning you when you needed him.

Angry at yourself for falling for him.

You’d gotten addicted to his pills and his cock.

“I was told you could get me pills.” Your face was swollen, you were sure the officer chipped a couple of your teeth too. All because you’d had a bad day and his attitude had set yours off.

You watched the man beside you stiffen out of the corner of your eye. You’d held your breath, hoping that you’d gotten the right person.

“Depends on what you’ve got.” His gruff voice sent shivers down your spine, both out of anxiety and general attraction.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye again, your brow furrowing. “Not much. Couple cigarettes, a few rations.” You finally say, sighing softly. You were almost shocked when he turned his head toward you.

“What’s a kid like you need with pills?” His eyes glanced over your face, over the black eye and split lip.

“Why do any of us need them?” You ask, bristling a little bit. “And I’m not a kid. I’m almost 20.”

He laughs, bitter and biting, at you. “You’re a kid to me.”

You bristle further, grinding your teeth and wincing at the pain that radiates through your jaw. “Yeah, well, who’s got the chance to be a kid anymore.”

He simply shrugs, his eyes forward again. “Area four. Building 10. Apartment 17. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Your eyes snap back to his face, a little taken aback. “Okay.” Is all you can manage, your heart stuttering in your chest.

He walks away without another word, leaving you lost in your own thoughts and anxieties of what was to come.

You arrive the next day with a few cigarettes stuffed in your jacket pocket and nerves upsetting your stomach. You lift your hand to knock, but before you could the door was wrenched open.

A mean looking woman appears on the other side, staring you down for just a moment before her face softens just the slightest. “Ice‘ll help that.” She says after giving you a once over before slipping past you.

You make eye contact with Joel on the couch. He stares at you, unmoving. “Well?”

His voice shocks you from your trance as you tentatively walk inside, closing the door behind you. You shove your hand into your pocket, holding out the foil wrapped cigarettes. “I’ve only got two.” You say, suddenly aware how small your voice sounded.

Joel eyes the packet for just a moment before sighing heavily, standing and leaving the room. He comes back with four pills in one palm, holding his empty hand out to you once he’s close enough.

You glance down at the pills, then up at his face. “Only four?” You ask, frowning softly.

“Lucky it ain’t two.” He says gruffly as you place the cigarettes in his palm.

“I need more.” You say, quickly in one breath, your voice wavering slightly. “What can I do to get more?”

“You an addict or somethin?” He asks, his eyes narrowing.

You shake your head, blinking a few times. “No…Just in pain.”

He huffs in response, pressing the pills into your palm. “Don’t come back.”

You almost see a hint of compassion in his eyes, but it’s gone before you can figure it out. You leave without another word, the pills safely in your pocket.

He was gone in the morning like Tommy had predicted. It was almost a relief but you still felt the aching need to talk to him settle deep in your chest. A back and forth war within yourself of your past and present, hating him and needing him.

Maria found you at the bar this time around.

It had been two weeks since he’d left, and you felt as if you were dealing with the first loss all over again. You knew you were spiraling, feeling like you were going through the five stages of grief. Just a few days ago you were arguing with yourself, promising that the next time you’d say something. Now all you wanted to do was cry because he left you… again.

“You need to talk to someone.” Maria said as she sat down at the table you were at.

Your eyes meet hers for a moment before you take another sip of your homemade mead. “I don’t need to. I need everyone in this town to stop worrying about me so much and just let me work through it.” You hadn’t meant to sound so tense, your hand tightening slightly around your glass.

Maria just shook her head at you, her lips thinning. “We’re worried about you, honey. I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Joel, but I can tell you that this…” She gestures to you, her hand trailing up and down. “…isn’t worth it. And I’m sure a smart woman like you knows he isn’t.”

You groan softly, setting your glass down to run your hand through your hair, the other arm resting across your stomach in a protective gesture. “If I tell you anything, it stays between us.”

Maria nods, her face serious for a moment. “I protect my friend’s privacy.”

You can’t help the warm feeling that floods your chest, a small smile finally gracing your lips before dropping it. “Not here though. Could you come by my place later to talk?” You sound hesitant, still not sure if fully confessing to Maria what happened was a good idea. But she is right, you do need to talk to someone.

Three weeks in a row you’ve come to him almost every other day, eyes pleading for the pills.

There was something about the way they made you float, unfeeling, for just a little bit.

This time, though, you had nothing.

“Please, Joel. I’ll do anything. I just need a couple more.” You hated begging, it felt degrading and made your skin crawl, but you were starting to feel less and less floaty every time.

“I gave you an extra one last time. Fuck off, kid.” Joel gruffs at you,

You wrap your arms over your chest in a defensive manner, a habit of yours, a crease forming between your brows. “Please.” You say again, your voice breaking a little. “I’ll do anything.” You take a chance, stepping closer to him. You’ve never offered anything like what you were offering, what you hoped he knew you were offering so you didn’t need to say it out loud.

“Not a fuckin’ chance.” Joel says, taking a step away from you. “Don’t go offerin’ stuff like that around here, kid. Gonna get yourself hurt.”

You bristle slightly at the supposedly endearing term, only coming out vicious on Joel’s tongue. “I’m not a fucking kid.” You bite back, irritated you have to snap about it again. You slump a little as the devastating realization of what you were offering finally hits you. “Please.” You say again, swallowing thickly. “I don’t have a choice.” You add softly, looking down at your own feet as you try to avoid choking on your own voice.

Joel stiffens slightly at your admission, a flash of something dark in his eyes. “I’ll give you five for a ration card.” He knew it was a loss on his part, but he wanted you out. He didn’t want to give into his own desires when he saw you. Your wide, innocent eyes that glimmered with appreciation whenever he handed you over the pills. He should feel guilty, watching you slip slowly into the addictions he himself fought. You’re too young, far too young.

You step closer to him, your heart rate picking up. “Ten if I suck your cock. Won’t come back for a week.” You rush out the words, your tongue feeling thick and heavy in your mouth.

Joel tenses further as you come closer, the smell of something sweet wafting off you. Vanilla? Flowers? He’s momentarily distracted by the feminine smell of you, failing to see your hand come up to his chest, his muscles jumping as you place your hand over his sternum.

You look up at his face, searching his features for any type of severe discomfort. You swallow again at his silence, stepping even closer as you slide your hand across his chest to his shoulder. He shudders under your touch, his gaze hardening on you. “It’s not as if I haven’t thought about it before.” You say, your voice quiet still as your eyes follow your hand. You startle when his hand grasps your wrist, stilling your movement.

“You’d better have payment next week. Proper payment.” His voice is low and gruff, his grip tightening. “Ain’t gonna do this more than once.” You almost gasp in surprise when he yanks your hand in between the two of you, pressing your hand against the bulge in his jeans.

You suck in a breath through your nose as you palm his slowly hardening cock through his jeans, swallowing the saliva building in your mouth. You’d blown boyfriends in the past, sure, but never for something like this.

He huffs out another breath as he pulls away from you, and you almost ask until he’s flopping onto the couch, spreading his legs wide and jerking his chin at you.

You’re far more nervous than you’d like to be as you slowly walk over to him, kneeling down in between his legs. You tentatively reach up, palming him again as you lean forward to nuzzle against the outline of his cock.

“Jesus Christ.” Joel breathes as he lays his hand heavily against the top of your head. “Really wanted this, huh?” It sounds half amusement, half wonder. You blink up at him as you pull his belt from the buckle, opening it and working open the button of his jeans. He lifts his hips as you pull his pants and boxers down just enough, another small gasp escaping you as his cock slaps up against his flannel. Your eyes flick between his eyes and his cock as you lean to grasp it by the base, leaning forward enough to take a tentative lick of the precome beading at his tip.

The taste of him immediately has you craving more, and you finally admit how much you really did want this. You hum softly as you shuffle closer, placing your other hand on his still covered thigh to ground yourself as you finally take the head of his cock into your mouth. He groans above you as you swirl your tongue around the bulbous tip, licking through the slit. His low noises spur you on as you lower your mouth on him, starting a steady rhythm as you start to raise and lower your head.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.” He groans as his head falls back, his hips twitching as he bumps against the back of your throat.

You swallow around him as you fight your gag reflex, your eyes welling with tears as your throat constricts. He practically whines as you swallow, the noise causing an involuntary moan to bubble up your throat as you hollow your cheeks, focusing your tongue on the underside as you feel him pulse against your tongue. His hand is still heavy on your head, not guiding, but simply resting.

“Gonna come in that pretty little mouth.” Joel grunts, his eyes boring into yours as you begin to bob your head again, your fingers digging into his thighs as he begins to softly thrust into your mouth, going deeper than you’d had him yet. You gag around the intrusion but he continues, forcing your throat to relax as he continues thrusting into your mouth. “Made for suckin’ cock, huh?” He asks, his voice pure gravel as your mouth brings him closer to climax. “Just a little slut who loves having a cock down her throat. Was your plan from the beginning, wasn’t it?”

You whimper and try to shake your head “no”, but his tightening grip in your hair keeps you still. His words sting a little bit, but there’s a part of you that sings praise at his word, your clit thrumming in your soaked underwear.

“Right, mouth too full to speak. Gonna swallow it all? Fuck-” His words get cut off as you moan around him, sucking more harshly now. “Jesus Christ.” His hips are bucking into your mouth a little harder now, his cock punching the back of your throat, tears leaking steadily from your eyes as you moan around him again. “God, such a good girl, takin’ me so well. Gonna- Fuck, gonna come. Look so pretty cryin’ on my- Fuck!” And then he was, a choked gasp forcing its way up his throat as his cock pulses in your mouth.

You’re gone less than 10 minutes later, the precious pills tucked in a plastic baggie in your front pocket.

So you tell Maria every little detail. How it all started, why it all started. About your drug addiction you’d fallen into being around him for almost 6 months.

“I almost overdosed the day he left.” You tell her, silent tears now falling down your cheeks. You let out a wet laugh, wiping at your face. “It’s fucking pathetic , Maria. Even ten years later, I think I might still love him. And I hate that I do. I’ve never said that out loud.” You’re feeling a little past tipsy now, trying to ignore the way she frowns when you reach for the bottle again.

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” She says sadly, her eyes following your hands as you fill your glass again. “You never got closure. It only makes sense. But really, honey…Joel?” She grimaces playfully, lightening the mood immediately.

“Oh believe me, I’m mad about it too.” You laugh, self deprecatingly. “Of all of the men in this godforsaken world we’re living in, it just had to be him. ” You take another drink, watching as Maria’s eyes follow the movement. “I’m working on it.” You say as you lower your glass to your knee, your eyes downcast. “One thing to the next. I’m really trying.”

Maria’s mouth sets in a tight line before she sighs. “I want you to be careful with him.” She says your name, low and serious. “I know you think you know him, but Tommy told me what they used to do. Joel is not a good man.”

Your face drops into a frown, uneasiness crawling through your veins like ice. “I know what he’s done. I was there for some of it.” You snap, your hand tightening around the glass. “It’s not like I wanted to fall in love with a man like him.”

Maria leans back on the sofa, giving you physical distance. “No, I know you didn’t. But I don’t want you to think he’s changed-.”

“Has Tommy?” Your harsh words cut her off, the words out before you could even think them.

Maria shakes her head at you, her mouth immediately opening to defend her husband, but you cut her off again.

“No, you know what. I shouldn’t have told you anything. Jesus, everyone is so judgmental and acts as if he isn’t just a human being. We’ve all done fucked up shit, Maria. That’s just the world now.” You stand and snatch the bottle from your coffee table, sending her one last glaring look. “You can see yourself out. I need to be alone.” You know you’re being immature, storming out of the room like a teenager throwing a tantrum. But quite frankly, you don’t care. You finally want to feel, you finally want to let go.

You fall onto your bed, screaming into your pillow and anger, frustration and pain course through you. You turn over onto your back, sighing heavily as you close your eyes to try and ground yourself. Try to prevent yourself from thinking about all those afternoons you’d spent with him.

It, as usual, didn’t work.

The first time he fucks you because you beg for it. Not for his pills, not for his fingers. For his cock. You could never admit it was for him. You’d never admit to him that after just three months of knowing him, you wanted him around forever. It was a hopeless thought in a world like this, dog eat dog and love never lasts.

He had you backed against an alley wall, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

“You did so good, baby girl. So damned good.” He breathes into your ear, pushing you closer to your release. You’d smuggled a ton of pills into the QZ for him, managing to pass the guards unnoticed.

You whimper and whine as you grab at his shoulders, digging your forehead into his chest. “I need more.” You whine, tilting your head to nose at his neck. “Joel, please fuck me. Been so good for you. Please.” You feel him press his fingers hard into you, curling them against your front wall as his palm grinds against your clit.

He groans into your ear, huffing out a couple short breaths. “Yeah? You want my cock?” He accentuates his words with a harder grind into your cunt. Sure, he’d been dreaming about fucking you, wishing he was coming in your cunt instead of your fist or your mouth. He pulls his fingers from you, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick your slick from his fingers as he usually did. “Turn around.” He says gruffly, already reaching for his belt.

You turn around quickly, anticipation curling and burning at you as you work your pants down, bending slightly as he pushes at your shoulders. He isn’t kind when he shoves into you, pulling an agonized yelp from your lungs as he stretches you open. He almost immediately sets a sharp rhythm, the pain mixing and melting into pleasure the longer he’s inside you. You can’t do anything but whimper and whine as he practically destroys you, one of his hands clamping over your mouth while the other wraps around your waist. He pulls you back against his chest as he lifts you up, pinning you against the wall. “Shut the fuck up.” He hisses into your ear, his hips slapping sharply against your ass. “Gonna get us caught. You want the guards to know what a little whore you are? Fuckin’ dirty old men like me just to get a fix?”

His words cause you to clench around him, used to his degrading words now, used to the way they make you gush instead of cringe. You shake your head against his palm, breathing hard through your nose as he cock reaches deeper inside than you’d thought possible. You close your eyes against his onslaught, the rough brick of the building scraping against the front of your body as he fucks you impossibly harder. You come with a sob into his hand, your entire body shaking.

“Oh, fuck, good girl.” He praises you as he fucks you through your orgasm, grinding hard into you. “Makin’ me wanna fill that pretty little pussy up. Make you walk outta here dripping with me.” He practically growls in your ear, the first shiver of fear making its way down your spine.

Your eyes widen as you wrench your mouth from his palm, panting hard. “No, please, not inside.” You whimper, the fear of what that could mean making panic rise in your throat.

He groans in your ear, pulling from you before he steps away from the wall, spinning you around and pushing your head down. You immediately give into his request, dropping to your knees as you take his hard cock in your mouth, sucking on him the way you know drives him crazy.

“So pretty down on your knees for me.” He grunts, his hands tangled in your hair so he can thrust into your mouth.

He’s coming down your throat less than a minute later.

That was the first time you went back to your apartment and cried. The almost full pill bottle that still rattled in your jacket was the harsh reminder of exactly what this was getting you. You weren’t sure if the tears were from anger or devastation, but soon the three pills in your palm made you forget even him.

You eventually make it back to live life as normal. Took a few more weeks, but you picked up the bottle less and less each day. Tommy was proud of you, but you still weren’t talking to Maria. Something had fractured between the two of you that day, something you weren’t sure you would be able to fix.

But life goes on. It always does.

You get back into your routine, up before dawn every morning. Usually to the stables to greet the horses before you got to your chores. You hadn’t been on patrol duty for weeks now, Tommy giving you a break, or rather, distance from handling a gun too much right now. It irked you, being treated like you were broken. But you rationalized it to yourself, you knew he just had your best interest in mind. You weren’t unstable, not at all, just on edge.

Everything was shifting back to normal as spring came around, the trees slowly starting to wake up, the snow starting to melt.

A loud, pounding knock on your door startles you awake just as the sun came up on the horizon. Your hand reaches for a knife that’s no longer there as you open your front door, Tommy on the front step.

“He’s back.”

“You stupid girl.” Joel hisses in your face. He’s got you pinned to his front door, his forearm across your chest, crowding you.

“I’m sorry, please, Joel, I’m sorry.” You whimper, more tears falling from your face.

“Couldn’t keep that stupid little mouth shut and fucked everything up. I should kill you right here.” He growls, pushing you harder into the wall.

You cry out in pain as your body goes limp, the fight slowly dying in you. “I didn’t think she’d tell anyone.” You blubber out, your eyes closed in complete submission.

“No, you didn’t, did you?” He spits at you, his teeth grinding in anger. “You got FEDRA sniffin around my door because you couldn’t wait to tell someone what a whore you are. Bout the bottles every time I fuck ya.”

You shy away from his angry words, guilt and shame bubbling in your stomach. You hadn’t known your friend was a snitch, the daughter of a higher officer. “I didn’t know.” You whimper out, feeling the pressure on your chest release as he steps away, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. You keep your body pressed against the door, crossing your arms over your stomach. “A-am I still gonna get my pills today?” You ask, more shame causing bile to rise in your throat.

He lets out a bark of disbelief, his fists slapping against his thighs. “Ain’t that rich. Still beggin’ for a fix.” He swipes the bottle of pills off the table next to him, pouring them into his palm as he counts them. Less than 20 this time, he just wants you gone. “I’m done. This is it.” He says, his eyes finally looking up at you.

You shake your head in panic, your eyes trained on his hand and the small amount of pills. “No, no, Joel, please. I need them. Where am I gonna find more?” You ask, panic constricting your voice. “Joel, I need you.” You say, the words choking you on their way up from the depths of your soul. It wasn’t the same admission as you needing the pills. Six months of this and you were in love with him.

You knew he didn’t solely fuck you for the pills anymore. It became more frequent that you’d seek him out when you were craving him. The past month slowly dissolving into something that felt less like fucking.

“Joel, baby please. I lo-” You start toward him, but slink back against the door when his face hardens and he speaks up.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He growls, his nostrils flaring. “ Take the pills and get the fuck out. I ain’t got anymore time for a whore who ain’t nothin’ but a good fuck. Makin' off with my pills as if a sloppy thing like you means anythin' to me.”

You can’t help the sob that raises in your gut, bubbling up and out in an inhuman sound. “Joel, no, please, don’t do this to me.”

He crowds you again, the anger in his eyes causing you to cower this time. “Fuckin’ pathetic.” He shoves the pills in your hand before yanking you harshly away from the door and throwing it open. “I aint gonna say it twice. Don’t. Come. Back.”

You’re tossed out the door before you can fully think, fully process what had just happened.

You show up at his place the week after, shaking from the slight withdrawal, and from nerves. You knock but no one answers. It’s late, much too late for Joel to be out. You lay down on the floor to look under the door for any signs of life.

It’s empty. Bare. Abandoned.

You find one of his “buddies”.

He’s gone. For good. Never coming back to Boston.

You buy the pills from his acquaintance, using the rest of your ration cards.

You almost don’t make it to the next day.

But you move on after your brush with death. You become stronger.

But you don’t think you’ll ever stop missing him.

He’s ruined you for anyone else. You knew from the very first moment he had.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #tlou joel #joel smut #smut #joel x you #pedropascal

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whendesdayisoveritwillbethursday · 3 days ago

Text

"Tummmy!!" Ch. 3

Chapter 2

A story about "What if Yuji's body just started adapting to become Sukuna's form and got the belly mouth?"

—

Finally finished this. The only warning should be blood drinking, but it's not a major thing and is brief.

Word Count: 6965

—

Megumi and Nobara were sitting in their seats when the clock ticks past the time for class to start. Neither of their idiots, one or two, had yet to make an appearance, which was…worrying.

Nobara clicks her tongue. Tch. She closes her eyes, and feels an angry tick mark, marking her forehead. Those no-shows had better show up soon or she was gonna hunt them down and make them regret making her wait, she thinks with gritted teeth. Itadori had made them worry enough for a lifetime. He didn't need to incur more debt. He already owed them for letting them think he was dead. She had mourned his ass! The least he could do was make sure not to worry them again by pulling stunts like this. Not showing up to a lesson that only ever happened every few weeks or so, was inexcusable. Usually Yuji would show up right as the clock ticked to the start of class.

Beside her Megumi sighs tiredly. He was slumped in his seat with his arms crossed, staring at nothing. Megumi glares hard at his desk. This was irritating, he thinks. They should be here by now.

He looks to the windows and then crosses his long legs over each other beneath his desk, with one foot tapping idly in the air while the other remains on the floor. The courtyard was dusty and had weeds growing up in the cracks that should have been pulled out weeks ago. Someone needed to take care of those before they ruined the walkway for good.

He narrowed his eyes at them.

He knew the school would always be in a state of disrepair occasionally because of a lack of students, but he thought that was an excuse. With the lack of students, upkeep shouldn't be a problem at all. Every institution needed to look at least a little respectable no matter the amount of people attending it.

His head rolls lazily on his shoulders and away from his view of the upsetting courtyard to meet Nobara’s eyes. His voice slowly meets her ears, betraying none of his internal irritation for the groundskeepers.

“Should we go looking for them?” He says, his face looking very close to a weary parent's who had just stayed up all night because of their child.

Nobara tilts her own head back, letting her auburn hair fall away from her face smoothly for once. Yes! She fist-pumps in her mind. She'd just switched brands and was glad that this product was proving to be worth the money spent.

“Give ‘em another five.” She crosses her own arms and grins. “And then we can go hunt ‘em down.”

He nods, his own amused smile slipping through, and lets his head tilt back to stare at the ceiling. A minute passes by, the tick tick of the clock on the wall fills the room.

Nobara leans forward, an elbow resting on the desk. She cups her face in her hand, finger tapping the side of it. Her mind drifted boredly running through her plans for later that weekend if they didn't have any missions assigned. She planned to go to a few more sweets shops that weekend, maybe even taking the boys along with her. She had two specific shops in mind she had checked out online that she thought Saori might venture to…She probably wouldn't be there this time either, but Nobara wouldn't give up! She'd find her one day…

Nobara looked down at her skirt which reminded her that she had wanted to get a new one this weekend. The other one had gotten ruined after she had to- she paused. The memory, stirring up a sudden anger. She swears if those two did something stupid, like steal her skirt for Gojo-Sensei to pretend to be her again, they both would feel her wrath, infinity barrier or not. She huffs a breath through her nose.

And just as she finished the thought, as if summoned by her unspoken threats, Gojo-Sensei pops his head through the doorway, a blindfold covering his eyes and a grin marking his face. He waves both his hands at them as he steps in, a brown paper bag swaying by its handles in the crook of his right elbow.

“Gooood Morning, my lovely students!~”

Silence greets him. Maybe he said that wrong? No, he was sure he spoke everything right.

They stare at him unimpressed. Megumi sits up before stating the obvious.

“You’re late.” Ah. That.

“Mm-hmm. Yep. I am. For good reason though!” He grabs the bag from his arm to shake at them. “Had to pick this up!”

Gojo squeals inside. Yuji was going to love it! And if he didn't…well…No! He would love it. Gojo was sure. He had a sense about these kinds of things.

Gojo walks in further to stand behind the podium, dropping the bag beside it.

The two look at the bag curiously, and Megumi with open displeasure and annoyance that he then gives their teacher.

His eyes flick to the bag. “What’s in there?”

Gojo turns around, picks up some chalk, and begins to draw something. Megumi leans closer to peer around Gojo's shoulder. Was that a dolphin? Megumi thinks as he sees the crude scribbles that sort of resemble an aquatic life form.

Gojo was in fact drawing a dolphin on the board, acting like he didn’t hear anything. He had heard. But he didn't want to ruin the surprise. He starts humming, making an already irritated Megumi more so.

Megumi knew this act. He’d seen it before time and again, growing up around the man. He watches him closely as the supposed grown-up continues to childishly ignore the stares of his students and Megumi’s unanswered question.

That's when Megumi notices the tell, the one that he knows Gojo doesn't know about. And there it was. A twitch to his left pinky as his hand moved into his pocket. After seeing it so many times right before Gojo would bring home a ‘wonderful’ surprise, Megumi couldn’t miss it. The man would get antsy and excited when he was hiding something good, and thus would twitch that finger at random. And ‘something good’ could mean anything in Gojo terms. Something was definitely up and Megumi hoped it wasn't Itadori being dead again. He doesn't think he could handle that. Again. He shivers.

Nobara sits up straight and cranes her neck to see more of the hallway through the door. No Itadori, she notes. Itadori usually followed Gojo around like a puppy if he saw the man nearby. Itadori was late and now, by the looks of it, wasn't showing up at all. She looks back at her Sensei and raises a brow.

“Where’s Itadori.” She demands. Her Sensei gives nothing away with his body language, but Nobara knows by all the playfulness he's doing, that he’s up to something. She may not have known their teacher as long as Fushiguro and Itadori, but she knew when people were hiding something, when they were lying. And this guy? This guy reeked of both…well more so than usual anyway. He always gave off the feeling that something was up his sleeve.

She sees Megumi match her look out of the corner of her eye, suspecting their teacher to have done something he shouldn’t have as well. Then Gojo turns back around to give them an answer neither believed.

“Yuji won’t be joining us today, I’m afraid. He’s come down with something nasty.”

Nobara and Megumi look at each other confused.

Itadori? Sick? That was unheard of. It was a straight up lie. So Nobara answers for them both.

“We know you’re lying.” She narrows her eyes at him, a piercing gaze that would make any other man squirm. “Really? ‘Sick’? That’s the best you could come up with? Itadori doesn’t get sick.”

The broomstick-looking man shakes his head, white hair swaying atop it with the movement.

“But he is~”

She doubted that, but maybe he was sick. It wasn't like him to miss lessons…

Nobara glares. “Fine. Don’t tell us. But we will find out.”

Gojo grins knowingly. Oh I bet you will. They definitely know something is going on. Hehe.

“My, my, what concern you’re showing for your classmate! That’s very touching Nobara!~ Don’t worry, though. He’s been taken care of and we’ll all go see him after this lesson is over!”

The two students look at each other, silently thinking the same thing.

This man was full of bullshit and lies.

—

The three walk down the hall, the tallest of them enthusiastically zig-zagging as he walks, like he has all the time in the world and can afford to not walk efficiently. Like the bullshitter he is.

The shortest of the three walks with intention as she catches up to the long-strides of her Sensei. This man was going to give her answers.

“What’s in the bag?”

He turns to look at her. She continues.

“Why is it important enough to deliver to Itadori on his deathbed?” She says because if Itadori of all people was actually sick, then he must be dying.

“So dramatic. He’s not dying or dead…again. He’s sick! And this–” He shakes the brown paper bag by the handles. The swish of clothing rustling inside could be heard, not the rattle of medicine like Nobara was expecting. “–is his new uniform.”

Honestly Nobara wasn't sure if Itadori was sick or not. The man wasn't rattled and was sticking to his story. Maybe her bullshit detector was off. Maybe Itadori was sick after all, which was really concerning. Maybe there was a reason all three had to go see him. Maybe he really wasn't doing too good.

Gojo was acting strange and was doing strange things. If Itadori was sick, dying, injured, or doing something stupid again, like stealing her skirt, Nobara would find out. And poking holes into Gojo's story was bound to get them something.

Megumi steps in line with them and eyes the bag, having also noted the oddness of no medicine, if Gojo's story was to be believed. At this point he was also worried that Gojo was telling the truth, or at least a partial truth. “Semantics.” He answers. “A sick Itadori is a dying Itadori.”

“Were you not listening? He’s not dying. He's-”

With Gojo not paying attention to her, Nobara decides to swipe the bag still in front of her and ignores the offended ‘Hey!’ sent her way. Gojo doesn't immediately reach to take the bag back though, allowing them to snoop, knowing it wouldn't tell them anything.

The two lean in close to look inside, but what they find makes them confused.

Nobara reaches in and pulls out a red crop top hoodie.The hoodie looked exactly like the one that Itadori usually wore except it was now a crop top. What? She reaches in again and picks up the other article of clothing. It was Yuji's usual dark blue uniform top, but it was made of a mesh-like material, almost like basketball shorts. She held it closer. The material was see-through if one looked close enough too.

The top also had a zipper lined up where the normal uniform top would be held together by unseen buttons beneath the seams. The signature gold-swirled button was by the top of the collar and the zipper. But the button was useless and only for show, it seemed.

In all, it looked near identical to how Yuji usually dressed aside from the obvious differences in material for the uniform top and the length of the hoodie’s torso.

She furrowed her brows. “What is this? Why does he need this?” She asks, looking Gojo right in the blindfold. What on earth had the two done that required not only a new uniform top, but also all these adjustments? Had Itadori gotten injured somehow and needed lighter, breezier clothes? It was the only logical conclusion that Nobara could come up with. At least something was kind of confirmed? Fushiguro looked to be having similar thoughts to hers and eyed the clothing suspiciously.

“He's not injured, is he?” Fushiguro asks pointedly, staring the man down and voicing Nobara’s own concerns.

Their teacher doesn’t answer, instead choosing to swipe the items and bag back and take off running down the hall.

“Come on slow-pokes! Yuji is waiting!~”

Was that a yes?! Nobara gives chase, shouting angrily down the hall.

“Answer us, you dimwitted fuck!”

Gojo lets out a laugh, shouting back over his shoulder.

“That’s no way to talk to your teacher!”

Megumi sighs and sticks his hands in his pockets as he watches them chase each other down the hall. Gojo would talk eventually, but it really irked Megumi to know how much fun he was having teasing them like this. It wasn't a joking matter, at least Megumi didn't think so. But he had no choice but to put up with this didn’t he? He gives his attention to the ceiling, tracing patterns in the woodwork. But his eyes eventually trailed back to the ruckus in front of him. He couldn't leave them unsupervised for too long. His conscience wouldn't let him.

“Stop holding it above my head!”

“Stop being short then~”

Smack.

“Ow!”

He grins. Gojo was now hopping away holding his shin with one hand while the other was in the air keeping the bag away from Nobara still. He chuckled.

Though he was enjoying this, Megumi couldn't help but wish he had drank a calming tea rather than a coffee this morning. Stress was on the horizon, that was for sure.

Having grown bored of the woodwork, his green-blue eyes found the line of windows in the hallway.

The wind outside swayed the trees and grass in waves and the birds swooped and played in it like a pod of dolphins. At least that was how Itadori would have described it. He watched for another moment before quickening his pace to catch up to the others.

“Itadori you better be okay.”

—

‘Whoo Hoo!’ echoes down the hall as Nobara and Gojo get close. Megumi was lagging behind by a few feet, having chosen to walk the whole way like a normal person and not chase after them. Nobara looks at her Sensei.

“That doesn't sound sick.” Or injured, she adds mentally. Was this all a prank?

He doesn't act like he hears her and keeps walking happily.

They'd find out soon enough what was going on though. These idiots were making her worry. By the sounds of it, Itadori wasn't sick. Which was a relief. But he could still be injured. Her mind supplies. She hears another ‘Whoop’. Or Maybe it really was a prank. But if not sick or injured, then what? Nobara had a hard time believing this to be an elaborate prank. Gojo would have been more convincing in his lies. Then it wasn't a prank. Her brain concluded. Or it was most likely not a prank, but that left her to question what was really going on and why Gojo was remaining tight-lipped.

As they got closer, passing Megumi’s room, Nobara could distinctly hear the sound of a Mario-kart game having just ended along with Yuji’s cheers for himself reaching their ears more clearly.

“Oh yeah~ Oh yeah~”

Mario-kart? Was he playing hooky?! All sympathy and logic left her mind.

Angry, she stomps ahead and knocks on the door harshly. She taps her foot, waiting, but hears no movement to indicate he’d heard her. Was he really just in there playing around while they got all worried about him? Ugh! The nerve!

Megumi joins them as Nobara knocks again.

No answer. Just a creak of bed springs being jumped on and more off-key singing. Nobara balls her fists.

That idiot was too busy celebrating his win to hear anything!

She steps back and kicks open the door with little effort, disregarding the fact that the boy inside may or may not be decent.

“Oh yeah~” He sings. He has his bare back to the door, doing a victory dance on his bed and swaying his hips back n’ forth with his arms in the air like a wet noodle in a pair of black joggers.

Nobara is unimpressed. Gojo and Megumi snort simultaneously behind her, covering their laughs. His moves get more dramatic, doing something like a guitar solo, before he spots them mid-dance, letting out an:

“Oh shit!”

As he promptly trips, toppling to the other side of the bed with an undignified screech.

He groans.

Yuji lays on the floor in pain for only a moment. A small whine from below making him scramble for the poncho that was luckily discarded on that side of the bed.

It’s slipped over his head, arms through the holes, just in time for an amused Megumi to round the bed. He holds out a hand to a sweating, nervous Yuji, who takes the offer.

“Thanks.” He says once off the floor and standing. Megumi nods, stepping back.

Yuji looks to Nobara and Gojo who were now standing on the other side of the bed. The pink haired teen rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

Nobara crosses her arms looking at Itadori expectantly. But he doesn’t say anything.

Is he not going to speak? She looks him over. Nope. Doesn’t look like he’s going to speak and Gojo looks content to let them handle it instead of doing what he’s supposed to.

Said man was smiling excitedly and swaying back n’ forth on his feet while Itadori was making a valiant effort to not meet her eyes.

Typical, she thinks looking at the two. And Megumi doesn’t look like he wants to either.

The boy was just looking at Itadori like Yuji was going to speak any moment now when that was obviously not the case.

Cowards. Guess that just leaves me.

She crosses her arms and stares Itadori down. He gulps. She raises a brow.

“Spit it out.” She demands, more suspicious of him now after that reaction. The boy jolts. “We know you did something or-” she jerks her thumb back at Gojo. “-he did something and he-” she turns to glare at him, who just smiles cheekily, “-is refusing to answer. Now start talking. Are you actually sick? Or are you injured? If you’re playing hooky and he let you, so help me-” she starts fuming and Yuji searches for an answer he didn’t have prepared.

Yuji finds nothing.

Ahg! This was so frustrating! He had expected for Gojo to say something! Anything! Brief them, warn them, but…

He looks at their stressed, and now irritated, faces, it doesn’t look like he did that.

Yuji sweats.

It would have been logical for him to do something like that! It would have been helpful! Curse his Sensei for disregard for social tact! Yuji had assumed Gojo would be helpful! That he’d explain! Yuji had assumed and now Yuji regretted.

Yuji shakes his head and waves his hands.

“No! Gojo-Sensei said I could miss class because-”

He stops himself, having almost blurted it out. He starts fidgeting with his poncho and shuffling his feet.

He really didn’t want to do this! He didn't think he could explain it like Gojo could. Like in a way that didn't make him seem weird?

Weirder?

More dangerous?

He shakes the thoughts away.

He knew it’d be fine, he could trust them. He knew that his mind was making a big deal out of nothing, but…his heart beats faster.

What if they didn’t-

Megumi raises a brow at him for stopping his sentence. He steps forward and gestures towards him, waving a hand up and down. “What’s with the get-up? Why’d Gojo have to get you a new uniform?” He says drawing Nobara’s attention to Yuji’s weird outfit. She looks at Yuji and the poncho.

“Yeah. Not that I don’t like you wearing what I got you for once, but why the hell are you skipping class and getting a new uniform? You’re not actually injured or sick are you?” She states more than asks again.

She places her hands on her hips.

“And why are you wearing the poncho inside?” She says, asking the important questions.

This was offensive. How dare he do this with something she painstakingly bought him. And then something catches her eye. She tilts her head to the side. Her eyes go wide.

“There’s nothing underneath?!”

She snaps her eyes to Yuji’s with a glare so deadly, Yuji doesn't know how he's still standing. She points her finger at him.

“Start talking, you tacky shit.”

“It was Sukuna!” He blurts out in defense.

Nobara cocks her hip and gives him a dangerous, mocking, grin. “Oh? It was Sukuna, was it?” An unhinged look starts to bleed through and her grin widens with it and her every sentence makes him feel dumber and dumber.

“Sukuna made you make terrible choices?”

“Sukuna made you skip class?”

“Sukuna made you play Mario-kart while wearing a rain poncho indoors?!”

Her voice is raising, that look in her eyes flaring.

“Well poor you.” She says, her words drenched in sarcasm. Her voice drops and she steps forward to harshly poke his chest from across the bed.

“I don’t care if you're sick, injured, or whatever! Start telling the truth you dumbass!”

“GGGGRRRHHH.”

A deep, animalistic growl echoes through the dorm room making everyone freeze.

Yuji’s eyes are wide like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The growl had cursed energy written all over it and they all knew it.

Megumi shifts alert, fingers twitching in anticipation of a battle as he looks around the room before focusing on its owner, who is looking awfully guilty. Megumi almost pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course it had something to do with cursed energy. What was he hiding?

“What are you hiding?” He says aloud, slowly. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good.

Yuji shifts back.

Of all the noises Tum Tum could have made to announce his presence!

He briefly looks at his stomach.

Really Tum Tum?!

Yuji sweats. “I’m hungry?” He says weakly.

But Megumi doesn’t look convinced. Shit.

And neither does Nobara. Shit!

It wasn't supposed to go like this!

And his Sensei looks to be watching them for sport if that smile is anything to go by. Jerk!

“I can explain. I promise.” He rushes out.

He shifts his arm to hide his stomach from view further, but all that does is draw their attention to it.

Megumi raises a brow. “Uh-huh.” He juts his chin at the hem of the poncho. “And what’re you hiding that can growl like that?”

Yuji steps back, cuddling the poncho closer to his middle and making the material indent unnaturally into his abdomen. His heart beats faster. Then a ‘blegh’ is heard, like someone forcing something out of their mouth, coming from Yuji’s abdomen.

He freezes, meeting their eyes and he knows he’s caught. And he doesn’t know why he does it. But he sprints.

And Nobara lurches over the bed.

Megumi jumps back out of the way.

Yuji sidesteps and stutters backwards, away from them both, protectively hugging himself. He didn’t want it to happen like this!

Then he and Nobara meet eyes and he takes off, Nobara not far behind. They run circles, jumping onto the bed and off again, rounding the room again and again.

Megumi and Gojo step back to let it play out, watching the scene from the entrance of the room. He looks to Gojo, who's enjoying himself, having not even seemed worried about the growl or the spike in cursed energy. “It’s not that serious is it?”

“A little.” The man looks to him and answers, pinching his fingers together.

Megumi furrows his brows. “So he's fine?”

“Yep!”

Megumi lets out an aggravated breath and turns to the chaos before them. Might as well enjoy it.

“Take off the poncho!”

“No!”

“Take it off Itadori!”

“No! I don’t want to, you pervert!”

“Pervert?!”

The two race around the room at an almost dizzying speed and Gojo is laughing his ass off. God, he hadn't gotten to laugh like this in a while.

He watches the two and chuckles.

Maybe it wasn't fair to put him through this, but really the kid needed to have more faith in his peers to have his back, like Gojo did with his friends. How else was he going to make it in this world?

Gojo snorts as Yuji starts throwing his dirty socks at Nobara who lets out an indignant squawk.

Megumi also snorts and smiles at the scene of his friends. He was entertained by their shenanigans, but did they really need to go through all this? Itadori was being ridiculous. If Gojo's answer was anything to go by, it wasn't that serious.

“Gojo-Sensei help me!” Yuji cries desperately.

Gojo, laughing, shouts his encouragement back. “You’ve got this Yuji! You can do it! Just take the thing off, it'll be fine.”

Yuji lets out a frustrated yell and jumps off the bed. Nobara, right behind him, jumps on the bed ready to jump off and tackle him.

Yuji skitters away, running backward and passing Gojo and Megumi. Having had enough, and seeing an opportunity to end this, Megumi reaches out as he passes and snags the edge of the back of the poncho firmly, causing Yuji to stumble right out of it and almost hit the wall behind him.

“Hey!” He shouts betrayed and hurries to cover his stomach. But it's too late.

Megumi doesn’t respond. His hold on the poncho loosens and the article of clothing drops to the floor.

He can’t respond. He’s too shocked by the sight of Yuji’s angry pout being seen on his face and his stomach. Nobara on the bed is just as speechless.

Gojo, who's still cackling, is the only person still moving in the room.

Megumi didn’t know what to think. He could see the mouth moving, how it contorted the stomach muscles around it.

It was real.

The thing was real.

And moving.

His eyes moved up to settle on Itadori’s.

Megumi didn’t know how he felt, but he could tell what Yuji was feeling the longer their silence stretched on.

He could see it in the downturn of his lips and in the creasing of his brows as they drew together. The longer they stared the more uncomfortable he looked.

And the more unsure.

Which was unusual for Yuji.

But was it really?

For all his cheer and boldness and go-with-the-flow attitude, and occasional foolishness, Yuji was a people person.

He needed them.

He needed people.

And not being accepted by those people who he held dear would…

It wouldn’t break him. No.

It would hurt him and make him withdraw from them completely. Which was unacceptable.

And Megumi, though he felt hesitant and a little weirded out that his friend had a belly mouth, wouldn’t do that to Yuji.

He couldn’t. No. He was his friend first and foremost.

“Eew! What is that thing?!”

Megumi was pulled from his thoughts by Nobara. Her face was also weirded out, nose wrinkled in disgust.

Megumi’s face twitched in irritation.

Couldn’t she hold it back for Yuji’s sake!

He turned to Yuji who, though he didn’t show it, except imperceptibly, had been negatively affected by her reaction.

Yuji nodded, accepting her words.

“Yeah, I know right?” He laughed. “Pretty disgusting.”

Megumi glanced down at the stomach mouth and lifted a brow in surprise at the downturn of its lips. It seemed the thing expressed what Yuji would not. He moved his eyes to meet Yuji’s and shrugged nonchalantly.

“I think you look fine.” He says and Yuji looks at him surprised. “It’s not that bad.”

Yuji smiles. “Thanks Fushiguro! But I know it’s pretty awful.” He chuckles and rubs the back of his head. But Megumi notes the way his posture relaxes, showing signs of relief.

“Speak for yourself brat.”

A voice snaps, drawing everyone’s attention to Yuji’s face. Well more accurately, to the side of it.

Sukuna is scowling up at the face he’s attached to. His eye then looks Megumi’s way, slowly roving over him. He smirks. “At least someone has good taste in body parts.”

Megumi blinks. His brow furrows. This was unexpected.

Yuji’s face screws up and he sputters. “Stop saying it like that! That sounds disgusting!”

“It’s a perfectly normal-” Sukuna begins to say, rolling his eye, but he's cut off by Gojo.

“Why hello Sukuna-chan~” He steps closer to Yuji.

“Sorcerer.” The curse’s mouth curls in disgust.

Gojo wiggles a ‘hello’ with his fingers at the curse.

“Sukuna-chan-” He begins but the curse cuts him off.

“I don’t have time for your drivel.” Sukuna huffs, glaring at Gojo before he fades away, essentially slamming a door in his face.

Gojo doesn’t move, wriggled fingers frozen in place. Jaw dropped.

Inside Yuji, the curse cackles loudly and Yuji smiles cheekily.

“Man, he must really hate you Sensei.”

The man doesn't respond, not even a blink, looking more statue than living being.

Yuji snickers and laughs as he thinks to himself.

Sensei had blue-screened.

He laughs and hears his friends' laughter beside him, having apparently said that aloud.

They should probably help him recover, but none of them could stop laughing at Gojo’s expense. Not even Megumi could stop, poorly hiding his amusement behind his hands, with shaking shoulders.

—

A little after, Gojo recovered, popping up like an energizer bunny and practically hopping away from them, but not before explaining everything.

He gave Nobara and Megumi a quick rundown of Yuji's situation, the do’s and don'ts, who they had told, who they wouldn't be telling, etc. But before he left them, he’d said:

“I've decided to tell some more people about him.” pointing at Tummy, “Just the same people who knew about your death before, Yuji. That way we have a few familiar faces in our corner if things go sideways. Oh! And before I go, Ijichi will be here in the morning to pick you guys up for a new mission! He’ll give you the details tomorrow. Now toodles~”

And with that he waved goodbye to set out on his own mission. They probably wouldn't see him for another couple of weeks unless he randomly popped in before their scheduled lesson.

To be honest Yuji didn’t really want to tell any more people. It was…embarrassing and stressful, but he guessed it wasn’t so bad.

Megumi and Nobara hadn’t reacted too badly and Gojo telling Dr. Ieiri, Ijichi, and Nanamin was fine with him. As long as Gojo did it this time. And only Gojo. Not Yuji.

But really, he was okay with telling them, or at least Dr. Ieiri. It would have been kind of hard to hide Tummy if he ever needed to heal any kind of wound around his middle or chest otherwise.

Yuji smiled and looked down at the food he was stirring on the stove. Idle chatter between his friends could be heard at the table behind him. He watched the pieces of meat and sizzle and pop in the pan of heated sesame oil.

Yuji was now wearing his new uniform top and half-hoodie, having wanted to try it out as soon as he saw it. A few more would be coming his way soon, per Gojo-Sensei, so he wouldn't have to keep rewashing the same hoodie and top everyday. The whole thing was really comfortable, surprisingly. Tum Tum's breathing wasn't making the clothing unbearably hot or humid like with the other shirts he had tried. And Tum Tum seemed to like it as well.

Currently, he had the top unzipped to let Tummy breath because it was getting a little toasty being near the hot stove.

He looked down at his pan and stirred its contents again. A fragrant aroma of meat and minced garlic and ginger meet his nose. Ahh. This was gonna taste good. He grinned, using his wooden spatula to scrape the bottom twice over.

He wasn't too concerned with someone walking in and seeing his stomach like this. The only people that would at this time of night were away. All the second years were gone on missions and Gojo already knew. Principal Yaga could…but Yuji knew that was unlikely as Panda wasn't here for him to check up on. Plus, Yuji trusted that Principal Yaga, like Gojo, didn't like the higher-ups, or didn't like them enough, and would put off reporting Yuji’s condition to them.

Soon his timer went off and he scooped a portion for each of them into the cups of ramen that had steamed themselves to perfection while he cooked. He moved to his cutting board where he had chopped green onions and fresh bean sprouts. He scooped them up and put them in each container before stepping back to observe each.

Yep! That should do it! He watched the steam rising from them for a moment before calling out to his friends. “Dinner’s ready!”

The conversation behind him stops and his friends come and pick their cups and he takes the third, sprinkling some chili flakes on his before he joins them.

They sit at the table eating silently for a little bit, enjoying the flavors of fresh versus not-fresh ingredients put together. But the silence begins to reach the point of awkwardness as there was only so much time one could allot to a meal being too good to talk through.

Megumi clears his throat.

“So…” He starts, “You have a stomach mouth now. How’s that working?”

Yuji chews the bite in his mouth and swallows before answering. “Well it could be worse.”

Megumi nods, slurping on some noodles and the quiet returns, so Yuji slurps on his own noodles as well. Feeling a little pressured, Yuji continues. “It turns out that Tum Tum likes goldfish.”

Nobara snorts. “Really?”

Yuji nods. “Yeah. It's pretty demanding too. I was trying to play my game, in the zone and everything, when I felt it slime me.”

“Yuck.” Megumi says in sympathy.

“You said it. The thing slimes me with its tongue and then starts whining cause I stopped feeding it goldfish.” Yuji shakes his head. “But it's not too bad. I think I'm getting used to Tum Tum a little bit.” He pats it.

Nobara watches him pat his stomach and she shakes her head. “I still can't get over the fact that you have a name for it, or I guess Sukuna has a name for it.”

Megumi gawfs. “I think it's more shocking that it's even happening. Is your body going to be like this forever?”

Yuji shakes his head. “No. It shouldn't anyway. Gojo-Sensei says there's a way to reverse this and I believe him!”

Megumi shakes his head, black unruly spikes following. “Well don't get too excited. This is Gojo we're talking about. He may be smart but that doesn't make him right about everything.”

“I can hope can't I?” Yuji smirks.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Megumi responds dryly.

Nobara watches them talk. She wanted to put in her two cents too on the matter, but she had this nagging feeling building up in her chest. It had been building ever since she had made it clear earlier how she felt about Yuji's new appearance. She hadn't meant anything by it! It was just the first thing out of her mouth. Even Yuji had admitted to it being gross.

But thinking that just felt like an excuse. She had seen the rejection on his face, subtle though it was. If she hadn't caught it there, she had surely caught it on the expressive second mouth that was now on the boy's lower half. Really, the thing wasn't as bad as her knee-jerk reaction made her believe. The thing was even a little endearing to see when Yuji’s honest reactions were mimicked precisely.

Yuji was usually an honest person anyways, but to see it confirmed quite literally in front of her, was touching. So she needed to say something because, although Yuji wasn't acting it when she spoke anything, Tum Tum was telling her loud and clear that she had made him feel uneasy now when they interacted.

“But he's the strongest! If I can't trust him to keep his word who can I-”

“Yuji.” Nobara cuts him off. He looks to her wide eyed, before smiling, but she can see the difference between his and Tummy's expressions.

“Yeah?”

She takes a breath in.

“I'm not one to beat around the bush. I say things as I see it and get things done when they need to get done.” She rubs her hands on her knees under the table as she stares into the half-eaten ramen cup.

“That being said, I'm sorry for being so blunt earlier about your new appearance. I know better than to blurt things out, especially if it might be something sensitive, which it was. I should have noticed that much at least, with how you were acting, running away from me and all.”

She lifts her head to look into the surprised honey-brown eyes across from her. “So I'm sorry for being rude and making you feel bad. To be honest I think Megumi was right. It's not so bad.”

Yuji blinks. His eyes burn a little, but a warm smile takes over his face. “Thanks Kugisaki. I appreciate it.”

Nobara smiles and Megumi bumps her shoulder with his, a proud smile on his face accompanied by a teasing brow. She rolls her eyes and bumps him back.

Yuji laughs at them, infectious laughter filling the room, that they couldn't help but join.

But a ‘Blegh’ interrupts them from below making everyone look down and they start laughing harder.

Tum Tum had the end of his tongue stuck out, making him look like one of those cats who always had their tongues partially out.

The thing joins their laughter, louder and more rambunctious than even Yuji’s.

And that was how their night ended, full of laughter and teasing. And with new inside jokes of Yuji secretly becoming a cat and not Sukuna’s incarnated form. A little shoving on the way, a ritual really, was done as they made their way back to their rooms.

Their night had been good.

Better than good, making them feel ready for their mission tomorrow.

—

Drip.

The curse sits crossed-legged on the base of his tower of bones. He dips his finger in the pool of red below before drawing it out to watch the red water drip off his finger and back into the expansive lake. It was no substitute for the tacky, coppery blood of his enemies, but it was a nice sight on his skin.

Rest.

Sleep.

Drowsiness.

They hit him like a soft wave sliding over the sand of a beach.

He grins, closing his eyes. Finally.

“Enchain.”

He opens his eyes to the ceiling of the teenager’s room. He sits up, blanket sliding off of him to reveal the drowsy looking stomach mouth below. He grins.

His hand lightly touches the lips of the tummy mouth. The thing smiles gently matching the smile now placed on the curse’s face.

“Hello Tum Tum.” He whispers, grinning to himself.

He giggles in delight, but quiets the burst of energy accompanying his joy. He didn’t want the brat to wake and discover him to be in control. It wouldn’t do for him to find out about the vow this way.

No.

He needed to feel the suffering of people beneath his and Sukuna’s hands, the crushing of bone and marrow, the warmth of fresh blood and life leaving the poor souls in their grip. Yes, he thought, Yuji needed good memories like those.

A sharp grin curls beneath his hand on the mouth below. Sukuna chuckles, the warmth of affection blooming in his chest.

“Soon Tum Tum. Soon you’ll get your pound flesh.” He pets it with the back of his knuckles. It reaches out and curls its tongue around his fingers. Seeing the request being made, a feeling of nostalgia creeps in.

He pulls his hand back to stick his fingers in his own mouth. He bites down, blood beading along the incisions. He lets the blood dribble and pool deliciously for a second before bringing his bleeding hand above the mouth to squeeze it into fist.

The mouth looks excited, tongue rolling out to catch every drop of blood. A fond smile finds itself on his face.

“You’re still the same after all this time…”

He feels a little choked up, but coughs it away. It was silly to get emotional over this, even if this was his pet, even if he loved it.

But…

He looks down at the thing sweetly cleaning his fingers. And tears come to his eyes.

“I really missed you Tum Tum.” His voice creaks and brings his arms around himself as tears start leaking without his permission.

The mouth makes a confused noise, twisting its lips up, as the curse above sobs. But only a little. He could allow that much. Not that anyone would know. Not even himself, no memory of it would be committed to memory, allowing the vulnerable moment to fall behind a wall of things he chose not to think about.

No, he would not think about this and would instead stubbornly remember Tum Tum licking his fingers and the thing’s smile.

When he opens his eyes, he’s back in his domain sitting where he was before he left, now hugging himself, sweet memories settling into his mind.

He smiled.

He’d have to do this again soon.

—

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk fanworks #jjk yuji #yuji itadori #itadori yuuji #jjk yuuji #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #human sukuna #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi #nobara kugisaki #jjk kugisaki

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sofieartz · 10 hours ago

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[ Original Character/AFK Journey ]

HAPPY 18TH F**KING BIRTHDAY FOR THIS GIRL AND HER SISTER!!!!!

I'm finally an adult... Wow scary/hj

Anyway, ya gurl is a grown up!!!! So have my Persona from AFK Journey ^^

Literally finished this yesterday, I'm so glad I could finished it in time.

Have some info about her too I guess:

• The older one of the two Sisters

• Using shadow base magic, she can give a physical manifestation using concentrated mana, a solid object of any shapes or size would be the end result. (The simpler the shape the less power needed to make it, and vice versa)

• Always carries a sketchbook, and a quill. (Mastered the art of Magic-ink for convenience)

• Wears light and colorful clothes to clash against the color of her magic. (Color theory thing or smth)

That's all honestly, she's just a reflection of my self but in Esperia so yeah!

#afk journey #afk journey fanart #afkジャーニー #esperiart #afk oc #original character #oc #oc artwork #oc art #do you guys know i have a twin sister #btw?#i made something #for her too #she'll post it soon #i hope you guys like her #and be nice #PLSSS GO CHECK HER OUT #her drawings are amazing and of much higher quality than mine #lol

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fictionadventurer · 2 days ago

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Actual June Reads:

Awakened by Roseanna M. White: The author's historical romance background actually put a refreshing spin on the fantasy genre, but it's still weak as a fantasy book. I liked some of the political stuff, was impressed by the fact that she gave us a "girl who is overshadowed by her impressive sister" relationship where I found myself rooting for both sisters, and liked that the 275-year-old magical king actually felt like an adult instead of a broody teenager (though it was weird that they harped so much on how old he was). But the pacing was off, there was nowhere near enough description, and this world is bonkers. It's set on a far-future post-apocalyptic Earth, where a combination of nanobots and divine gifts give people magical powers. The religion is very Catholic, which I loved, but trying to mix real Catholicism with a more Old Testament framework really did not work. (Angels marrying humans and begetting half-human children was so weird). Yet I might read on in spite of myself, just because it is so wild.

G.K. Chesterton: The Apostle of Common Sense by Dale Ahlquist: You know how much I love Chesterton, but some of these essays had me going, "He's not that great." The essays about books I hadn't read tended to work better for me than the ones about books I had read, which I guess is fine, because it's meant to encourage people to read Chesterton, but I wish he'd been able to better capture the appeal of some of my favorites.

Passing by Nella Larsen: The subject matter was fascinating (the dynamics of living in a world that considers you inferior gave me ideas for Shadowstruck), but I did not like any of these characters, and the ending felt like a 1929 literati version of #2edgy4u

The Life and Times of Frederick Douglass by Frederick Douglass: I read most of this in, like, November. Most of my reactions to the horrors of slavery happened then, and the last chapters built on it, but doesn't give me anything new to talk about. Very glad I finished.

Doctor Thorne by Anthony Trollope: I loved every character in this book (Miss Dunstable, character of the year!), but the plot and style were maddening. You could tell how the story was going to end from the moment it was set up, so the rest of the book felt like a holding pattern of waiting for the inevitable to finally happen. And it was made worse by the repetition and digression of the narration. This book could have been 2/3 shorter and been the same story. Also, Frank was not good enough for Mary. But the ending was really sweet and had me thinking about the goodness of patience and trusting in divine providence.

Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope: This is the book that sold me on the series aspect of the Barchester Chronicles. It was such a delight to see characters from different books interacting, and it really showcased how much of a world Trollope has built in this series. I was so lost during the political and financial discussions, but I loved the other subplots, and once again, loved all the characters. The friendship themes mean everything to me. Maybe my favorite of the series so far.

Desire by Una Silberrad: It's so nice to return to an obscure book you've been hyping and find out it's actually better than you remember. The themes are so much deeper and the plot so much better-structured than I remember. There are entire characters I'd completely forgotten about that add so much to the story. Desire and Peter's romance is everything, but that's because their characters are so layered and their stories dealing with such big themes. The romance comes with a few very Edwardian comments about "awakening the primitive man/woman", but otherwise, it's so good. The plot sags when Desire and Peter are separated at the end, and maybe the villain isn't really necessary, but still--great book. Last time I read it, I said it was good, but I didn't agree with Jo Walton that it should have classic status. I'm starting to think maybe she was right. It's certainly better than some other books that are called classics.

Potential June Reads

Tolkien's Faith: A Spiritual Biography by Dr. Holly Ordway

G.K. Chesterton: The Apostle of Common Sense by Dale Ahlquist

The Early Church Was the Catholic Church by Joe Heschmeyer

The Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover

Phantases by George Macdonald

The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady by Edith Holden

Awakened by Roseanna M. White

The Codebreaker's Daughter by Amy Lynn Green

#monthly reading lists #books #this list hides how many books i partially read this month #i'm 60% of the way through 'eugenics and other evils' which is good but slow going #because it's dense and often replying to outdated arguments with outdated analogies #i read a chunk of 'uncle tom's cabin' which was a pleasant surprise #i expected preachy melodrama that was only worth reading as a historical artifact #and i'm finding engaging characters and a good story #there were others but those took up the most brain space which is why it feels weird not to mention them on this list #oh! i actually did read a good chunk of 'phantases'#but got freaked out by the shadow that seems to be a real demon (i do *not* do demons even in fiction)#and the codebreaker's daughter came #and it's very engaging so far #i just fell into a trollope-thon and those got precedence because they were on my phone as audio and ebook so i had easier access

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barkingcrows · 1 year ago

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“Your father was your last real anchor, wasn’t he?”

[click for better quality!]

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egophiliac · 3 months ago

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missed the mark by (looks at calendar) uhhh. hm. but I really wanted to do something for the 5th anniversary! happy five years to these idiots 🎉

#art #twisted wonderland #twst 5th anniversary #i'll stop for a while now i promise i just wanted to get this out #genuinely feels a bit weird to be 5 years in already huh!#that combined with having finally finished up episode 7...#oh no all the milestones hit at once help #hold on while i reminisce for a moment #because MAN i did not expect the anime disney boy game to become so special to me #(especially my little wet rat dragon and his family)#to be fair 2020 onward was uhhh let's say prime timing for a piece of silly and unapologetically indulgent media #(not to get too real here or anything but let's just say that. some of the stuff in 7 specifically did hit a bit harder than it should've.)#but also just. you know how it goes.#sometimes a thing doesn't so much speak to you as it reaches out and grabs you by the throat #with an intensity that shocks and bewilders no one more than you #and sure you can ignore it because having any emotions about media beyond faint scorn is of course the epitome of ~cringe~#but you could also just throw yourself wholeheartedly into it #and lemme tell you one of those options is a hell of a lot more fun #idk i'm just kinda rambling here #it's been a weird five years but i'm glad to have had these guys for it #and hey if nothing else it gave us meleanor #the inside of my brain at any given point is just the 'do it for her' meme covered in pictures of our late great dragon princess #i would not have it any other way

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aquanutart · 3 months ago

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desert flygon

#pokemon #pokemon ruby and sapphire #hoenn #gen 3 #flygon #aquanutart #i made this in the dead of winter a couple of years ago #after wanting for the whole year to enter the tcg illustration contest but i ended up working on something at the last minute as usual #i don't like competition but i enjoy having a reason to draw a pokemon with a lot of other people #i was waking up early before work to keep making progress on it but i thought i wasn't going to make the deadline #and when i had just decided i had done as much as i could and couldn't get it finished #i went out on that cold snowy day and on that day and that day only for some reason my car wouldn't start #we tried starting it with jumper cables but i'm not sure i know how to use them.. anyway i had to call someone and wait for them to come #i had to call in late to work and then i was waiting for two hours. which was just about enough time for me to keep working on this #i was able to submit it seconds before the deadline the next morning #and it's very cool to me that i was able to participate even though i didn't place (i'm actually glad i didn't place)#(because i would rather it go to someone who worked longer on their entry and/or started earlier before the deadline)#(i just wanted to join everyone in drawing a pokemon but i would prefer for it to just be its own thing and not compared to other pokemon)#this is partly why it's cool to me to have the tcg cards from the contest i also entered!#i chose to draw flygon because gen 3 is one of my favorites and i grew up in the desert and always wanted to imagine pokemon running around #that was the last era of my childhood before i moved and had to grow up where everything was new and different #for 12 years overseas i was homesick for this sun #i'm in a snowier place now but i see the sun even in winter so i'm happy!#since drawing this i appreciate and notice flygon a lot more! i always thought trapinch was very cute #i love the scene in twilight wings final episode when flygon is looking around and scanning; it's so cool #and because of this i got very excited to see flygon in the pokearth documentary flying like a dragonfly #i had wanted to imagine it landing a bit like a bug

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boombambaby · 3 days ago

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Without really considering the ramifications of it, Kuzco snorts in reply and rolls his eyes at the ridiculous notion of him ever losing his home. " What, you mean the palace? Like that would ever happen. " Even now, after his nice guy transformation and with his thoroughly reformed personality firmly in place, Kuzco balks at the idea of someone kicking him out of the palace. A miniscule, almost nonexistent nagging sensation in the back of his mind reminds him of the panic he felt when he was told he was being placed on the 'waiting' list as Emperor, however. How small and impossibly lost he felt as he fought them on the old law, and raced to figure out where he would go when he found himself flat on his ass outside of the palace gates before finally seeking out Pacha; the only friend that he had at that point.

Now that he thinks about it, it's giving karmic justice, and he looks away to avoid letting Malina see the heat in his cheeks when he realizes how right she is. Again.

At the mention of her kicking his ass Kuzco can feel his lips tug up into a smirk and he turns back to face her just to playfully wiggle his eyebrows at her; despite the tension lingering in the air between them, he still can't help himself when it comes to teasing her. " Yeah, and it'd be kinda hard to woo the Emperor and beg for his forgiveness from behind bars. " He jokes, glad for the momentary reprieve from the heavier topics. This is difficult for him, he's never had to delve so deeply into his psyche before, at least not since he was hunted down in the jungle as a llama, and though he's loathe to admit it, it's taking a lot out of him.

Kuzco isn't looking for sympathy, of course. He isn't the only one at fault here, and he'll have his chance to ask questions too; but having to face these harsh realizations and answer for his past actions is harder than he thought it'd be. " No. . . " He sighs, brushing his hair away from his shoulder and bringing his knees up to fold his arms over them. When he realizes what he said his eyes widen, and he stares at her, shaking his head in a panic.

" Wait, I don't mean NO like no I don't trust you, that's not what I was saying . . " Kuzco groans in frustration, slapping a hand over his eyes and sighing heavily. " I trust you. That wasn't it, it's just . . I've never had anyone who cared, Malina. I've never done this before. I've never even wanted to. What good would it do for the Emperor to complain and be all 'woe is me!' with his sad, lonely life and the dinosaur trying to raise him when he's got EVERYTHING else at his fingertips? " It's blunt and honest, and he means every word of it. Though he's leaning his chin against his arms, effectively pouting, he turns his stare to her, trying to convey with his eyes how deeply he means what he's saying and how much he wants her to understand.

He didn't do it, any of this, to hurt her. He just doesn't know what he's doing; and as someone used to being in control at all times, and someone who very much considers himself perfect, he can't stand not knowing something. " I've buried all of this so deep in the back of my mind I forgot any of it even existed. it only comes out in nightmares, or on particularly bad days. . . like the day of our fight. " He finishes quietly, with a breathy sigh.

It takes a while, but Malina eventually decides to control her fury, even if she still feels upset about what his past self almost did to the villagers. However, the frown on her face never disappears as she listens to the rest of the story. A strange feeling courses through her body when he mentions that he was the most important person in his life. She wonders what Yzma told him to make him think he had to prioritize his own needs over everyone else's. "Still, you should've considered their feelings. How would you have felt if your house had been destroyed?" She asks, concerned. If Kuzco ever tells her about the bride's lineup, she'd give him a puzzled look. Truth be told, she had never heard about that. Perhaps she was somewhere else by the time the council recruited all the candidates for the Emperor, so she had to agree with him that it was actually sheer luck. Malina glances at him as he pinches the bridge of his nose and nods. "You're right. I would've even tried to kick your obnoxious ass, and you'd have thrown me in the dungeons for the rest of my life. That doesn't sound too romantic if you ask me." She says and snorts slightly, trying to feel less tense. His story about Yzma sounds quite familiar, as Malina thinks she has heard from Kronk in his many monologues when she went to visit him at Mudka's about the reason she wants Kuzco gone, so she can take over. Even if Kuzco wasn't her favorite person back then, she didn't wish him any harm. Still, the more she thinks about Yzma manipulating and shaping him the way she liked as part of her plan, the more upset she feels with the whole situation. "Even if I am still annoyed about your decisions and past behavior, it must have been tough for you, then, but I still can't understand why you didn't tell me about what she was doing to you sooner?! Didn't you trust me?" If someone asks, no. She doesn't believe he sounds pathetic at all. Everyone has issues, including Emperors, but she feels hurt by his silence. They had been friends and a happy couple in her eyes, so it was surprising that he hadn't opened up to her even after all these years they had known each other.

#𝚆𝙾𝚆 #smartylina #➠ 𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙿 ░ 𝚆𝙴 𝙺𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳 ░ 𝙺𝚞𝚣𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚊 #▒░ 𝙷𝙴𝚈. 𝙸'𝙼 𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼𝚈! ░▒ 👑[ ic ]#▒░ 𝙽𝙾 𝙽𝙾— 𝙽𝙾 𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙺-𝚈. 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙳𝙾-𝚈! ░▒👑[ thread response ]

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bellasweetwriting · 1 day ago

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get to know you { clark kent x f. reader }

masterlist

part one. part two

plot: your intentions of remaining invisible keep getting interrupted by famous quarterback Clark Kent, yet maybe you don’t want him to look away

tags: (sequel to show and tell) / quarterback!clark x artsy!reader / soft clark / fluff / clark has a BIG crush / just big on the cuteness / more experienced reader / over eighteen characters

a/n: someone asked me to do a part two of show and tell and, I have to say, what a great idea. i love a strong female character and pinning boy character. oh, and excuse my mistakes, i wrote this at 4 am

Meet me at the talon, tonight — C.K.

What an odd thing to request considering you haven’t talked to Clark Kent ever since that conversation in his loft, and that was a week ago. Maybe the nervous tingles ahead of his big game had altered the chemistry in his brain and was acting all kinds of strange. Or maybe, just maybe, he wanted to talk. Which was all kinds of strange considering you didn’t want to talk to him. And you had made that abundantly clear in you guys’ previous interactions.

Clark Kent was nothing more than another football headed good-looking hunk trying to get in his coach’s good side. Just like the rest.

You looked back down at the note he had left you on top of your palette as you painted in the art room. Maybe you were completely misjudging the guy, and he just wanted to talk. Probably be friends? Probably get in your pants. Focus. Focus. Focus. What would something like Clark Kent want from you?

You made your way inside the Talon, your eyes looking around before landing on Clark’s face. He was studying, his face buried deep into the books as he stared at the pages. That’s why he had asked you to come over? To study? You looked down at the outfit you had picked out, the one that had taken you more than usual to select, before your eyes wondered to the tiny small little purse you carried, only able to fit your phone, one key, lipgloss and a pen. Clearly, farm boy had taken you by surprise.

“Didn’t know we would be studying,” you finally said as you sat by his side, showing the note you held in between your fingers. He looked up, a smile appearing on his face as he saw you. “What are we studying?”

“I have a test tomorrow morning. I have to keep my grades up if I want to stay on the team,” he explained. “I thought you were going to ignore my note, actually. That’s why I brought the books. I didn’t want to look as if I had been stood up, so I kept myself busy.”

“That little faith you have on me, farm boy?”

“Not as little as the faith you have on me, Metropolis,” he joked back. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

“Why?”

“No reason why. Just want to. Besides, you were expecting me to do so.”

“How so?”

“You didn’t bring any money nor cards,” he pointed out, as if it was obvious, calling the waitress over.

“How’d you know?”

“I just… guessed.” Clark smiled before turning to look at the waitress, asking for two large coffees with milk, and one chocolate chip cookie. “So… how’s the small life here in the town?” He asked you as the waitress walked away, his eyes keeping his attention on you. “Metropolis seems too big compared to dear old Smallville.”

“I’m glad I can walk anywhere, though,” you said. “Metropolis is just a pain, really. Being able to use yourself as your own medium of transportation has its perks. I’d still like a car, though. Otherwise I’m stuck having to wait for my brother to finish at school for me to get home.”

“I can drive you home on no-practice days,” he offered, surprising you. “It’s not a big deal, really. It’s an old truck, though, hope you don’t mind. Guess it beats up staying at school later than you should.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” You asked, softly. “You buy me coffee, which I love and appreciate, really, because I love coffee. You talk to me, you offer me rides home… why? Is there some kind of ulterior motive? I’d really like to know before I get used to the nice behavior from farm boy Clark Kent.”

“I don’t do that,” he said. “I don’t do things hoping to get something in return. I see someone with a problem, someone who wants help, and I do my best in order to help them.”

“So you see someone in need. A damsel in distress. And you help them. No other reason other than love for the art.”

“If you help others just to gain something in exchange, you aren’t leaning a hand, you’re giving them a price for your services. You aren’t helping, you’re charging.”

You smiled. “Who’d think that you have that mentality, Clark Kent?”

“It’s surprising how little you know about me, city girl,” he mocked you as your coffees arrived. He took a sip from the warm cup, turning to look at you. “What do you think of helping people?”

“I think it’s a noble cause until they start expecting it rather than thanking it. When people get used to someone saving them, they take less care of themselves.”

“That’s another way of seeing things.”

“There’s two sides of each coin, farm boy. Which side you prefer to be on? The one in the head… or the tail.”

“Do you always have a glass half-empty approach to life?”

“I could turn around that question and ask you the same.”

He put his cup down, turning his whole body in your direction. “I believe in the good in people. I think exterior circumstances are the causes of clouding of judgement.”

“I believe people make other people reveal their true selves. Someone who knows who they are don’t change, and the people that don’t, the encounter with different beings and situations are all to help you figure out who you are inside. Not all people inside are good. There are people that are, like you… others just try to be, and are awaiting the moment for our true self to come out.”

“I think you know exactly who you are,” Clark argued, smiling widely.

“Is that so?”

“It is so. I think you know you are incredibly strong when the rest needs you to be, when you think you can’t show any weakness, but deep down, you’re like the rest of us. Someone that’s just waiting for the right person so they can put down the barriers. That’s the y/n that I want to meet. The one you already know so well.”

You stared at him. Unbelievable. The way he was smiling at you, practically mocking your seriousness. He was holding that cookie he ordered, handing it to you, practically telling you he knew it was your favorite. And that there was no way he was going to let you leave this coffee shop without you knowing how much he wanted to get to know the person you hid behind your powerful shield.

“Stop,” you finally said, breaking the demanding eye contact Clark had established between you two.

“Stop what?”

“Whatever you’re trying to accomplish. You already know what brought me here, Clark. And you already know why I want to just… finish high school, get my diploma, and move on.”

“Maybe rejecting your past and everything that involves it is what’s keeping you from moving forward. Don’t you think if you accept it and decide to learn from it, maybe moving on… wouldn’t be so hard?”

You stared at his eyes before grabbing the cookie he was holding, your fingers softly gracing his as you did. The way you breathing stopped as you touched Clark and felt his warmth was embarrassing to say the least, and you could swear he noticed how your breathing pattern abruptly changed, as it was pretty noticeable.

You looked up, his eyes meeting yours. Could you keep denying it? It’s not like every time he walks past you in the hallways, you don’t turn around to look at him. It’s not like you’ve found yourself drawing his face in the back of your sketchbook, involuntarily, without noticing it was him you were drawing. It’s not as if the whole idea of someone so well mannered, so good-hearted, didn’t call for your attention. And let’s not mention those icy blue eyes, a color you have only seen mixed in your palette when you paint snow.

You look away, taking a bite from the cookie.

• • •

You look at yourself in the mirror. You run your fingers through the fabric of your shirt, one far more revealing and attention seeker than the ones you’ve been wearing for the past weeks in Smallville High. One you always wore in Metropolis. You stare into your eyes in that small locker mirror. You left the glasses at home, you dusted off the makeup bag, you felt more like yourself than ever before. You were finally staring at the face of the girl you’ve been staring at for the past few years, the one you’ve been so eager to try and high. The one that committed the mistakes you regret, yet the one that pulled through… and was given a second chance.

You closed the locker, the face of your brother startling you. He was smiling at you, making you want to hide your face again under your hair.

“That’s the y/n I remember,” your brother said, mocking you. “What brought you back?”

“Chocolate chip cookies,” you said, keeping the rest to yourself. “So are you supposed to win today or are you going to lose like always?”

“I love how little faith you have in me. Keeps me grounded.”

You chuckled, walking side by side with your brother through the hallway. The attention you’ve been trying to avoid was coming up, people staring at you as you walked past. You suddenly feel as if you had changed skins, and you regret it. But you kept walking, pushing through.

“Everything okay?”

That’s when you see him. Clark Kent, taking books from his lockers. That farm boy taller than normal, handsome as a magazine guy, strong and firm, acting as if he wasn’t the best looking person in the entire school.

“Yeah, I’ll catch you later,” you finally said to your brother, approaching Clark, but your brother stopped you, making you turn around. “What?”

“The quarterback? Again?” He asked, scoffing. “I thought you had learned your lesson. Is that why the change of look?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“It’s never what I think, is it? Then false drug tests appear on my desk.” He pointed at you with his finger. “Watch out.” And he walked away, leaving you with a very clear warning.

One, of course, for the first time, you weren’t going to listen.

You approached Clark with a smile. The guy looked up from the locker, his eyes opening widely once he saw you.

“Hey, woah… is this who you’ve been hiding? I barely recognized you.”

“Let’s just say, growing back into your own skin can be challenging.” You smiled, widely, for the first time in a while. “You said you want to get to know me.”

He closed his locker, closing in the distance between you two. “I did say that.”

“I’m showing my work in an art gallery opening in Metropolis tonight. It’s silly. My old art teacher it’s organizing it. Would you like to come with me? There’s great food and bad music. It’s fun.”

“Tonight? I have… I can’t.” Your smile slowly faded. “I have the game, I can’t miss the game.”

“Oh right, of course. You’re… well, you’re right. Good luck!” This was so awkward, you wanted to hide. “Uhm, I hope you guys win? Break a leg? Or not! Do not break a leg, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to…” You smack your lips shut, giving him a tiny smile. “I better go. Good luck on your game.”

And without letting him say another word, you walked away quickly, not looking back. Your cheeks flushing red as you tried to be as small as you could.

• • •

The paintings that hung on the walls showed your past, the one you’ve been trying to avoid the past few weeks. The mistakes, the regrets.

But they also showed the good behind all of them. What motivated you, what kept you painting until three in the morning under the light of the street lights that enter through your bedroom window, in that so small apartment you and your brother shared not so long ago.

Your eyes wandered around your work. People come and congratulate you, they smile, they pat you on the back. They read the small description your professor made of your work, since you didn’t submit one. They say the future that awaits you couldn’t be brighter.

You chuckled, you smiled, even if it was a smile with no real meaning. But everyone could see it in your eyes.

Your sad eyes.

The people began to leave, the waitresses began to collect the food that was left, the dishes and glasses they had to clean. The music was turned off.

You were still standing there. Your burgundy dress hitting the floor as you had removed your silver heels that you held in your fingers. Your purse hanging from your hand, your hair let loose from the bun you had imprisoned it all night. You were staring at your painting, the last one you made in that apartment, your saddest work yet.

The picture portrayed a tired girl on her messy bed, staring at the ceiling. What you felt, what made you go into hiding, what changed your life, plastered on the canvas for everyone to see. And you couldn’t look away. Everyone had left, but you couldn’t move.

“You’re very talented.”

You turned to the sound of his voice.

There, in the doorframe of the gallery, wearing a cheap suit jacket, a badly buttoned white shirt, and black pants, was Clark Kent.

You smiled.

“Did you win?” He nodded. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I ran?” He joked, making you laugh. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be,” you said, smiling. “I’m glad you came.”