#solely because I want him to wipe off his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt

[itneverendshere]

lucky strike - brother bsf! rafe (blurb)

pairing: kelce's!sister x hockey!rafe warnings: none, fluff, flirting, yearning

The party was supposed to be fun. Emphasis on supposed to be.

Your brother had dragged you along, promising it would be “chill,” throwing out all his usual excuses—“It’ll be fun, you never go out, and besides, you know everyone there”—but you should’ve known better.

Now you were stuck in a house full of drunk college students, loud music, and—worst of all—a guy who wouldn’t leave you alone.

He’d introduced himself as Jake—or maybe it was Jack; you didn’t care—and you’d been polite at first. A quick smile, a couple of sentences before excusing yourself. But he didn’t get the hint. 

He was following you around like a lost puppy, trying to impress you with stories about his car and his “networking connections,” whatever the hell that meant. 

“Oh, yeah,” Jake was saying now, his voice raised to compete with the music. “They’re starting me at, like, six figures. But, you know, I told them I’d think about it.”

You sipped your drink to keep from rolling your eyes. “Wow, that’s… something.”

“So, anyway,” he was saying as you edged toward the hallway, “if you ever want to, like, grab dinner or something, I know a great spot. And If you ever want to come down to Florida, I could totally show you around. Take you out on my boat.”

You nodded absently, scanning the room for an excuse, but your brother was nowhere in sight, and every doorway seemed blocked by a crowd.

“You and me? A weekend getaway?”

You froze, brainstorming for an excuse. “Oh, uh—”

Then you saw him in all his glory, Rafe Cameron.

He was leaning against the wall near the kitchen, a drink in one hand, his other casually tucked into his pocket. His messy blond hair looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of some ridiculous sports magazine. He looked completely at ease, this party—and everyone in it—existed solely for his entertainment.

You hated that he was your only option right now.

Rafe Cameron was your brother’s best friend since diapers, your public enemy number one on your worst days. Your stomach did that stupid little thingy it always seemed to do when you saw him, and you hated it.

You cut Jake or Jack off, raising your hand. “I need to go—uh—find my boyfriend.”

Jake blinked. “Your what?”

“My boyfriend,” you repeated, internally cringing at the word and already walking through the crowd toward Rafe. “He’s waiting for me.”

Ugh. You groaned internally. You don’t like Rafe. You don’t even think about Rafe. 

“Cameron,” you said when you reached him, grabbing his sleeve. “Need your help.”

Rafe turned, his blue eyes looking down to where your hand gripped his arm. Then he looked back up at you, his lips curving, “Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”

 “I’m serious.”

His smirk widened. “Even better. What’s going on, princess?”

You glared at him. “Some guy won’t leave me alone. He’s been following me around all night, and I need you to—”

“Who?”

You shook your head quickly, knowing that look in his eyes meant trouble and black eyes. “We’re not doing the ‘caveman throws a punch’ thing. I just need you to pretend to be my…” You paused, the word catching in your throat. “Pretend to be my…”

Rafe tilted his head, watching you squirm. “Your what?”

You shuddered at the thought. “My…boyfriend.”

His smirk was back in full Cameron force. “What was that?”

You crossed your arms in defiance, refusing to let him win this. “You heard me.”

“I heard you,” Rafe nodded, leaning closer, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Just didn’t think I’d live to see the day you called me your boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend,” you clarified through gritted teeth. “Don’t make this weird, Cameron.”

But it already was, because just standing this close to him made your heart pound in a way you refused to acknowledge.

“Always knew you had a thing for me, but this? You want me sooooo bad,” he drawled out, tongue kissing his teeth as he pinched your arm.

“Wipe that stupid smirk off your face before I do,” You shoved his touch away, “Help me.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he opened his mouth to say something dumb—but then Jake appeared at the end of the hallway, his face lighting up when he spotted you.

“There you are!” Jake called, heading straight for you.

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing Rafe’s beefy arm again. “Just follow my lead.”

Jake stopped in front of you, giving Rafe a once-over. “Hey,” he said, clearly confused. “Who’s this?”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to say the word again. “This is my… uh, my boyfriend.”

The second it left your mouth, you wanted to crawl into a hole. It sounded so fake, so awkward—and Rafe wasn’t helping, because you could feel him staring at you with that stupid smug grin.

“Hey,” Rafe cut in smoothly, draping an arm over your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You lookin’ for my girl?”

Jake blinked, “Oh. I, uh—I didn’t realize—”

“Yeah,” Rafe patronized, “You wouldn’t.”

Then Jake's stupid eyes widened, “Wait… you’re Rafe Cameron.”

Rafe’s smirk grew impossibly smug. “That’s me.”

Jake’s mouth fell open. “Holy shit. Dude, you’re the Rafe Cameron. Hockey star. I watched your game against Michigan last month—you were insane.”

Rafe shrugged, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “Appreciate it, man.”

You wanted to die, maybe strangle him.

Jake turned to you, his tone almost accusing. “You didn’t tell me your boyfriend was Rafe Cameron.”

You laughed nervously, trying not to grimace. “Yeah, uh,… it’s not exactly my favorite topic.”

The second the words left your mouth, Rafe’s fingers pinched your waist—just enough to make you jolt—and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your hair.

“Careful, princess,” he murmured, “You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Jake, oblivious to your little argument, kept gushing. “Seriously, man, you’re a beast. I don’t know how you pull off those plays—”

Jake was too busy gushing over Rafe, throwing out stats and plays like he’d memorized Rafe’s entire career. And Rafe, of course, was eating it up, nodding along like he wasn’t already aware of how good he was.

That’s when you felt it—Rafe’s fingers, toying with the hem of your top.

Your breath hitched, and you glanced up at him, but he was still focused on Jake, his face the picture of calm confidence.

“Yeah,” He was saying, his fingers moving tenderly against your skin. “That Michigan game was wild. You should’ve seen her, though.” He tilted his head toward you. “Biggest fan in the stands. Couldn’t take her eyes off me.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you—”

“Yeah?” Jake said, interrupting you. “That’s awesome. Must be crazy, dating someone like him.”

You clenched your fists, your irritation bubbling over. “Oh, it’s insane.”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, his fingers teasing your side one last time before Jake finally walked away, muttering something about grabbing another drink.

The second he was out of earshot, you shoved Rafe’s arm off you and glared up at him. “You’re fucking insufferable.”

He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “Dial down the foreplay, you’re gonna make me hard.”

This motherfucker, oh my god.

You stared at him, your jaw nearly unhinged from the sheer nerve. “Are you—did you just—” You couldn’t finish the sentence, the words vanishing in your throat as your face warmed.

Rafe, on the other hand, looked entirely unbothered, leaning against the wall like he hadn’t just said the most inappropriate thing imaginable. “What?” he drawled, his smirk practically glowing in the dim light. “You started it, calling me your boyfriend. I’m just playing the part.”

You took a step back, glaring at him like you could kill him with sheer willpower, “How does anyone ever put up with you, oh my god.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he quipped, his smile widening as he reached out to tug lightly on the hem of your sleeve.

You smacked his hand away. “If you keep this up, I’ll go back out there and tell Jake—or Jack, or whoever—that I was lying.”

“Please,” Rafe scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You're not gonna subject yourself to that human LinkedIn profile just to spite me.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could retort, a group of partygoers passed by, a couple of them glancing your way and whispering. One of them—a girl in a glittery crop top—stopped to wave at Rafe, her voice eager.

“Oh my god, Rafe! I didn’t know you were here!”

Rafe gave her a polite nod, his hand sliding back to your waist, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to make your stomach go stupid.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone easy. “Just hanging out with my girl.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes wide with disbelief, “Dude.”

What the fuck is wrong with you?! you wanted to scream, but the girl was already nodding, her smile faltering as she glanced at you.

“Right. Cool. Um, see you around, I guess,” she said before walking off with her friends.

The second she was gone, you shoved Rafe’s hand off you again. “You’re having way too much fun with this shit.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked, face softening into something that almost—almost—resembled genuine amusement. “This is the most fun I’ve had at one of these parties in weeks.”

“Glad I could provide you with some entertainment,” you said dryly.

“Don’t sell yourself short, princess,” he said, his voice dipping slightly as his eyes met yours. “You’re the highlight of my night.”

You forced yourself to scoff pretending his sweet nothing’s didn’t hit home.

“I know you, I’m not falling for your little hockey player charm offensive.”

“Who says it’s an offensive?” he asked, tilting his head. “Maybe it’s just a… friendly check.”

“Friendly?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “You don’t do friendly.”

He shrugged, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a way that felt entirely too deliberate. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

“Why the fuck is everyone saying my sister is dating my best friend?! Hello??”

Your entire body went rigid as Kelce bulldozed through the crowd, looking thoroughly scandalized. He stopped dead in front of you, his eyes darting between you and Rafe with full-on soap opera disbelief.

Rafe, the insufferable fucking bastard, didn’t even try to keep it together—he straight-up bent over laughing, one hand braced on his knee, the other holding his drink like it was sacred.

“Oh, shit,” he wheezed, grinning wide enough to blind someone. “This just keeps getting better.”

You wanted to drop dead right there in the beer-sticky hallway.

Kelce blinked at you, bewildered. “What. The. Actual. Hell?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you snapped, glaring at Rafe as he tried (and failed) to recover, his chest still shaking with laughter.

“Yeah?” Kelce shot back, jabbing a thumb toward the swarm of gossiping partiers. “Because everyone’s saying it looks like you two are a thing.”

“We are not a thing,” you hissed, making a couple of people nearby glance over. “He was just helping me ditch some guy who wouldn’t take a hint.”

Rafe, still grinning like a jackass, finally straightened up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was warm, low, “Your sister couldn’t resist me.”

You whipped around, shoving his chest hard enough that he stumbled back a step, laughing like this was the most fun he’d had in years. “Oh, shut the fuck up.”

Kelce’s jaw practically unhinged. “Wait. Are you actually into her?”

Rafe tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “Depends—am I allowed to?”

Your eyes narrowed to murderous slits. “I will put you in the ground, Cameron.”

Rafe’s laugh rumbled low in his chest, sending a traitorous shiver down your spine. “God, you’re mean,” he drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “Kinda hot, though.”

Kelce gagged dramatically. “Nope. Nope. I’m out. Y’all are sick.”

“Glad we agree,” you muttered as Kelce stormed off, throwing his hands up like you were a lost cause.

The second he was gone, you turned on Rafe, stabbing a finger into his chest. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” he echoed, grinning like he’d just been handed front-row seats to your breakdown. “You’re the one who called me your boyfriend, princess.”

You scowled. “Yeah, clearly that was a mistake.”

Rafe’s eyes gleamed, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse hitch. “Nah. Best decision you’ve made all night.”

You flipped him off. “I’m fake-dumping your ass immediately.”

Rafe had that look on his face—the one that made you want to throw something at him. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned casually against the wall, all cocky confidence and oh-aren’t-I-just-so-fucking-charming energy.

“You know,” he started, dragging the words out like he was savoring them, “this kinda reminds me of when you had that crush on me when we were, what, twelve?”

Your head snapped toward him so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He grinned wider, eyes gleaming with delight. “You used to follow me around like a lovesick puppy at Kelce’s games. Always sitting in the front row, twirling your hair like you were in some rom-com.”

You made a noise halfway between a scoff and a snarl. “Excuse me? I did not have a crush on you.”

“Yeah? So you weren’t the one who told Kelce I had ‘pretty eyes’?”

He did, in fact, have pretty eyes, so what....

Your face went up in flames. “That was a joke.”

“Sure it was,” he teased, leaning in just enough to make you want to run for the hills. “You totally didn’t write my name in your notebook, either, right?”

Your jaw dropped. “How do you even know about that?!”

“Kelce found it last month and showed me,” Rafe said, completely unapologetic. “Heart doodles and everything. Thought you were writing love songs for me or something.”

“I hate you,” you growled, your face now hotter than the sun.

“You loved me,” he quipped, biting back a laugh. “Or at least your little self did. Cute.”

“I’m going to strangle Kelce.”

Rafe smirked, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust off his sleeve. “Too late to deny it now, princess. I’m your first love, and you just fake-dated me tonight. Full circle.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, eyes dancing, “but you’re still blushing.”

“I will kick you in the balls, Cameron.”

“Careful,” he warned, “You’re gonna fall for me all over again.”

[st4rgirl7777]

st4rgirl7777 hard thoughts…

a/n: this one goes out to all the thirsty gojo fans. i love you all xo

thinking about best friend gojo who lets you sit on his lap and cry your little heart out as you rant to him about how boys are bane of your existence. best friend gojo who spoon feeds you ice cream as you wipe ur tears with the sleeve of his expensive shirt. gojo who manages to finally get you to open up on why you hate men so much only to find out that the last talking stage you winded up in, ended because the guy didn’t want to be with you solely because you were inexperienced. yeah you kissed guys and did a little under the shirt action but you never given head before.

best friend gojo who was determined to help you out and make you feel better. his main job is teaching and he is about to show you why he is so good at his job. gojo who is determined to teach you how to give a blow job and teach that stupid ex talking stage a lesson in maturity.

best friend gojo who proposed the idea and the room went silent with a couple of your sniffles breaking the stillness, as you dwelled on the idea. “like right now?…” you questioned. gojo smirked with a cocky “if you really wanna learn, shouldn’t you start off with the biggest?!” your cheeks warmed up as you hit his chest lightly and turned away in embrassment. with a scoff you stood up. “teach me then..”

best friend gojo who wasted no time is unbuttoning his pants freeing his 7 inch cock as he sternly told you to get on your knees. you swallowed nervously. “whenever you’re ready babe. go on and give it a squeeze.” you’re heart beating rapidly as the tension filled the air. you’re hand reached out to grab his member. he hissed at the contact. “give me your hand” he commanded. you held out your hand to him and he let his salvia pool into your palm. “use this to lube up my cock for me honey” you did what you were told and used both hands to slide up and down his dick. he moaned in pleasure watching as you jerked him off. “good job baby. doing so well” he said as he looked down on you, his sun glasses sliding his sharp nose. “are you ready me to put it in your mouth?” he questioned. “yeah.. i think so..” you said anxiously. he guided his cock to your mouth and you kitten licked the mushroom shaped head. it was pink and honestly really pretty to look at. after a few licks you, sucked on it causing gojo to moan out loud. “more baby..” you licked his shaft up and down and with out warning you shoved his entire length in your mouth swallowing him whole. he curses as he can fell his cock touch the back of your throat. his hands roughly tangle in your hair as he pulls away from your hot mouth. you look up at your best friend and a string of confidence starts to grow within you. you take his member in your mouth again bobbing your head up and down moaning and swallowing him over and over again. his body letting loose as he continues to sing you praises of how well you doing, and how good you are making him feel.

your cheeks hollowing out as his dick twitches singling that his close. the grip on of hand gets tighter as he tells you to stay still. his knuckles turning white in your locks as he fucks himself silly in your mouth causing you to let out pornographic gags and moans. “so close doll, your mouth feels so good against my cock.” he says cockily as he harshly thrusts himself against your mouth. after a couple more rough thrust he lets go on your mouth and spills his seed on the floor next to you.

you both sit still, breathing heavy, as you both take in the moment you will never get back. “hmm… that wasn’t as bad as i thought” you said breaking the silence. “oh yeah? i was a good teacher then?” you roll your eyes at your best friend. “maybe next time.. i can teach you how a real man eats pussy, wouldn’t that be a fun lesson y/n?!?” he said amusingly. you blush and smack his arm. “Gojo!”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

a/n: thank you all for reading! i hope you enjoyed! muah! - m

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Uuuuuugh the Mechanisms have so much angst potential! But I’ve been in this fandom for like three weeks, I don’t know the characters very well and don’t fully understand the story (so many questions- I have so many questions) so sadly I cannot write for them yet

[just-jordie-things]

the subject of every photo - fushiguro megumi

word count: 5,555 (i'm so proud of that) warnings: swearin' summary: a photoshoot at the pumpkin patch isn't his ideal day, but at least megumi gets to spend time with you. and maybe he'll take a few pictures anyway. (a/n): really delayed pumpkin themed fic with the softest boy but i needed to write this ok a greater power called upon me to do it

___

“It’ll be fun!” Nobara had claimed, although her tone was more threatening than bubbly.  “It’s just a little photoshoot at a pumpkin patch, why so gloomy about it?” 

And it wasn’t that Megumi was gloomy about it, because he wasn’t.  It would be immature to pout about a simple hangout among friends.  The thing was… he just didn’t care for the whole pumpkin patch thing that really seemed to take off on instagram and tiktok these last few years.

He hadn’t carved a pumpkin since he was just a tot, and even then he’d only done it to satisfy Gojo’s bonkers need to participate in every holiday tradition.  He never particularly liked scooping the guts and seeds out, and as a kid wasn’t decent enough with a blade to carve a face that actually looked interesting.  Not to mention, it was always chilly in late October, making it insufferable to wander around outside solely to pick out a big orange vegetable.  

Really, if he wanted a pumpkin that bad, he would’ve picked out a discount one from the grocery store.  But really, he didn’t want a pumpkin.

Nonetheless, Nobara had bought four disposable cameras— which he didn’t know were even still a thing— told everyone to wear their cutest, coziest outfit, and pretty much demanded they all go spend the afternoon at one of the more popular farms in town.  As with most plans, Megumi begrudgingly agreed.

Even under three layers— his coat, his sweater, and the long sleeved tee he wore underneath them both— the crisp air still pricked at his skin and left goosebumps in it’s wake.  It was hard to enjoy being out here when he was fighting the urge to shiver.

“It’s pretty cold for this, huh?” 

Megumi wipes away the resting bitch face he’d been making, opting instead for as much neutrality as he could muster.  He turns to (y/n), only to find her peering up at him from behind her little plastic camera.  His brows wrinkle.

“Don’t take a picture of me at that angle” 

He puts his hand over the lens and pushes it away before she could even think about snapping the photo, and she chuckles a bit at his boyish antics.  He almost cracks a smile when she’s peeking up at him with her cheeks tinged pink from the cold.  He squashes it before his lip could curl too far.

“Well what side do you prefer then?” She teases, shifting around to stand before him and raising her shitty little camera again.  “Full portrait? Or perhaps a side profile?”

Megumi rolls his eyes, but when he starts to walk away, she’s quick to follow.  He doesn’t dislike her company.

Nobara is off farther in the field, ordering Yuuji to pick up as many pumpkins as he can for the perfect picture.  It was only a matter of time before she came over and started barking at the two of them to make the perfect poses as well.

“So why do you hate pumpkin patches?” (y/n) breaks their silence, but when he turns to her again, she’s fixing her camera on a sparrow pecking away at a less than ripe pumpkin.

“I don’t hate pumpkin patches,” He replies, but even he has to admit the dryness in his voice makes it seem a bit unbelievable.  “It’s just…” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, but he’s quick to straighten his gaze when he finds her full attention on him now.  “Cold” He finishes, lamely, but it’s not untrue.

He fiddles with the plastic camera in his hands.

“Yeah,” (y/n) agrees from beside him.  “Would’ve been nice to do this a few weeks ago, when it was still sunny” 

Megumi nods back at her, unsure of what else to say.

He hoped that they weren’t doomed to only speak about the weather today.  However that meant he’d probably have to put the effort in to change the subject.  His palms began to sweat.

It was their day off, so he didn’t want to strike up a conversation about work, and preferably he’d like to avoid the subject of sorcery altogether.  So that narrowed down the options by a lot.

He knew that like him, she liked to read.  But she was more into the fantasy stuff, and the only book off the top of his head he could make conversation about was The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe and he was fairly certain that wasn’t currently on her shelf.

Was it always this hard or was he just overthinking it? 

“Wait, stay right there!” 

Before he can suck it up and ask how her most recent assignment went, (y/n’s) throwing her arms up at him to make him freeze in place.  Megumi startles at the sudden movement and holler, but he listens and stays put while she backs up a few steps.

“The sun is peeking out,” She explains, before steadying her camera in front of her face.  “The lighting is great” She says with a grin, and then without warning, she snaps the photo.

Megumi wants to complain, he didn’t even have time to smile or pose or anything.  When that picture got printed, he’d just be a guy standing there, probably with a resting bitch face.  Nobara wouldn’t be happy.

But (y/n’s) still grinning as she lowers the camera.

“Too bad we gotta wait so long to see ‘em,” She says as she heads back towards him.  “It’d be nice to—” 

“Stop moving” 

He’s more blunt than she is, already lifting his camera and peeking through the small lens.  (y/n) gets the hint and retraces her steps to fit properly in the frame.

“Better?” She asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder dramatically before posing with a bright smile.

Megumi snaps the photo without warning, although he’s sure that this one will turn out much better than the one she’d taken of him.  For one, she’s smiling, but he’s also certain that she’s much more photogenic than he is.

She’s at his side again as they wander around the patch, fiddling to fit the camera into the pocket of her coat.  It takes him a few minutes to find his courage again, but eventually Megumi clears his throat and tries to spark conversation.

“Gojo used to take a million pictures of me and Tsumiki” 

That seems to be exactly the right thing to say, because (y/n’s) entire demeanor lights up as she looks up at him with wide eyes.

“Really?” She laughs softly at the mental picture.  “Did he keep, like, photo albums and stuff?” 

“Oh yeah,” Megumi snorted, recalling the rows of photo books on the living room bookshelf when he was young.  “Dozens, at least.  It was like he couldn’t commit a thing to memory, always had to document everything” 

When he was young, it was obnoxious to always have a camera shoved in his face.  Now though, he wonders if the crazy bastard still had those albums.

“That’s sweet,” (y/n) muses, wandering off a bit to check out a display of gourds, all varying in shapes and colors.  “I bet there’s tons of embarrassing ones of you, too” She teases. 

Megumi doesn’t give her an answer, instead silently watching as she picks up a large green vegetable with a curly top.  She holds the long end in her hand, before turning to face Megumi with the plump end out, holding it like it was a very deformed gun.

He rolls his eyes at the joke, but just as she looks away, he snaps a photo.

(y/n) seems to not even notice, setting the gourd back on the display and turning back to Megumi to continue their conversation.

“Was he a scrapbook mom?”

He chuckles, and he wants to deny it, but he can’t.  Even if he tried he thinks she’d see through it with how he smiles with all of his teeth.  She’s laughing before he even explains.

“He made one scrapbook, ever,” He tells her.  “And you have to swear to never tell them this,” He adds quickly.  (y/n) doesn’t have to ask to know who he means, and she simply drags her thumb and forefinger over her lips as if to zip them up.  “It took him weeks.  I think the kitchen table was covered in all of his crafts for a solid month” 

“You’re kidding!” She laughs louder, loving the image of her mentor hunched over a table while he glued down photos and ribbon to pretty sheets of paper.

“I wish I was.  I think it’s why he only ever made one,” Megumi shrugged.  “But it’s… a lot.  Every sheet was three dimensional.  The spine of the scrapbook was stretched so wide the thing couldn’t even sit flat” 

He knows that all of the pictures in that book would be embarrassing now.  Gojo liked to document every first— first day of school, first science project, first A+, along with more ridiculous milestones, like when Megumi chopped all of his hair off in the fifth grade and looked ridiculous.  If he remembered correctly, Gojo glued that hair in the book too, as if it were his baby hairs.  That scrapbook really should be burned, but a part of him wishes he could show her now, just to prove how messy it really is.

“I’d do anything to get my hands on it,” (y/n) sighed, almost as if she could read his mind.  “My parents did some stuff like that, but they certainly weren’t obsessive” 

“Obsession is all he knows” Megumi mumbles, and he doesn’t mean to be funny, but she laughs, and it makes his chest feel warm.

“I still think it’s sweet,” She assures him, and then she stops in their slow and aimless walk, kneeling down to tie the shoelaces on her boot.  Megumi waits beside her.  He cared much more for her company than he did seeing the pumpkin patch.  “He probably just wanted to save lots of memories of you guys when you were little.  All parents say it goes by fast” 

She goes to tie the other boot, and Megumi can only stand there in soft surprise.  Sure, deep down he always considered Gojo his parent, because he simply just was.  But no one else referred to their relationship that way, the others always called him teacher or mentor.  But (y/n) must’ve understood that it was more than that.

He’s pulling his camera out again and stealing another quick picture while she was still focused on her shoes.

When she stands, he’s got the camera tucked back into his pocket and an innocent look on his face.

“Want to take a picture over there?” She asks, pointing to the tower of hay bales set up mostly for photos.  Originally it was for children to climb and play on, but it’s purpose was far more often served as a posing station.

Megumi simply nods, and follows her as she races over the tower.  It shouldn’t have surprised him when she started climbing the thing right away.  Surely Nobara had been over here earlier, striking a pose with one hand on her hip and the other on the stack of hay, but not (y/n), who was almost to the top.

“You’re not gonna fall, right?” Megumi asks unsurely as she’s grabbing at the highest bale.

“I’m a trained athlete!” She shrieks back, clearly offended.

“I’m more worried about you destroying the play area” Megumi retorted, his lip curling upwards against his will.  He can’t help but take a picture before she’s settled.  Her hair’s a mess and her limbs are everywhere as she tries to steady herself on the wobbling tower, but it’s a perfect picture nonetheless.

“This is great!” She shouts back at him, before stretching her hands above her head.  “Take my photo like this!” 

It’s silly, it’s childish, but Megumi’s laughing to himself as he snaps a couple.

Somehow she manages to climb down without toppling the entire thing, and they quickly make their way across the pumpkin patch before an employee could scold them for being grown adults playing on the children’s setup.

Megumi finds it easier to talk with her the longer they walk around, aimlessly eyeing pumpkins without committing to picking any out, taking photos here and there, but mostly they just wander around and talk.  Yuji and Nobara seem so wrapped up in the full on photoshoot they were having with each other that it could seem like they’d completely forgotten the other pair, but Megumi didn’t mind one bit.

Hang outs never turned out like this.  Nobara tended to cling to (y/n) like a lifeline.  She was always dragging her off to the next boutique on the strip or game in the arcade or exhibit at the museum— wherever they went, it seemed as soon as Megumi would get a minute of alone time with her, Nobara would steal her away.  It was deflating, but he couldn’t be mad, they were best friends after all.

Today was like a gloomy day miracle.  He almost felt spoiled having the last half hour with her all to himself.  All of her laughter and smiles were only for him.  It warmed up his chilled hands until soon, even the breeze wouldn’t make him shiver.

(y/n) didn’t appear to have the same effect, shaking like a leaf every time the wind picked up.  She always shrank into the collar of her coat and shoved her hands into her pockets, and after a few times, Megumi couldn’t stand to see her freezing.

“Let’s go inside for a bit,” He nodded his head towards the small shop.  (y/n) pouted back at him, before glancing around the pumpkin patch, clearly looking for their friends.  “They won’t be upset that we went inside because we’re cold,” Megumi chuckles to himself, before gently pushing his hand against the small of her back so that he’d follow her.  “I’ll text Itadori” He adds for good measure.

After a moment of hesitation she agreed and walked along with him, but just slow enough that he left his hand on her lower back.  Just because it was nice to be so close to him.

Stepping into the shop was an instant rush of fresh warm air, and she finally felt like she could stretch her fingers.  There was a small bakery inside with only a couple of tables, but without anyone else inside it was perfectly quaint to warm up in.

“I’m going to order a hot chocolate, do you want anything?”

The offer was sweet, but she’s already making her way to the counter, set on a mission as soon as the alluring smell of apples and cinnamon wafted past her nose.

“I could go for a coffee” Megumi hummed as he followed.

He’s ordering for the both of them as soon as a clerk arrives behind the counter, two drinks along with the enormous bear claw in the glass case that (y/n) hadn’t torn her eyes away from since stepping up to the counter.  She tries to fight him when he pulls out his wallet but he’s faster at tapping his card to the reader than she is at hitting him.

Even once they sit down with their drinks and the pastry that takes up most of the table space between them, she argues with him about the payment, and all he can do is shake his head— and maybe smile to himself just a little bit.  After realizing arguing is futile, she decides that as long as he eats some of the bear claw, she can forgive him.

And they continue to chat, about dumb things, about nothing, about everything.  Megumi learns all about the book series that she is reading, along with her plans for getting promoted faster, and that her dream pet is a sugar glider.

“That’s ridiculous,” He mumbles through a mouthful of almond paste and cinnamon.  “When would you ever have the time to take care of something like that?”

“That’s why it’s a dream pet, dummy,” (y/n) rolls her eyes at him.  “Doesn’t have to be realistic.  Don’t you have a dream pet?” 

“I kinda already have a lot of pets” 

“Oh, right,” She laughs to herself, and he thinks he can see a hint of a blush dusting over her cheeks.  Was she embarrassed? He wasn’t sure exactly.  But it was really cute.  “Well if there’s ever a sugar glider shikigami, please summon it for me” She tells him in all seriousness, and Megumi bites his tongue as he agrees to the condition immediately.

He pulls out his camera for the tenth time that day and rests his elbows on the table as he brings it to his face.  (y/n’s) eyes widen before she’s covering half her face with one hand.

“Are you taking a picture of me right now?” She hisses anxiously, before shaking her head at him.

“Duh” He mutters out as he tilts forward and back, trying to find just the right angle of lighting.

“I’m eating—” 

“So? Not like you have food on your face.  Hush.  Go back to eating or something” 

“I am not letting you take a picture of me while I eat” 

“Alright then just sit there then” 

She’s grabbing her paper cup of hot cocoa to use as a shield, but it’s too late.  Megumi clicks the button and she can hear the soft whirring coming from inside the camera.

The lens cuts to black and Megumi pulls the camera away, eyeing the little roll of numbers next to the lens.

“I’m out already,” He says, tossing it onto the table.  “Guess I win” 

(y/n) laughs to herself.

“I didn’t know this was a competition,” She takes a sip of her warm beverage before setting it back down.  “But I can’t believe you finished before me”

“How many do you have left?” 

Curiously, (y/n) pulls the camera out of her pocket and eyes the tape with the amount of film left.  She frowns as she looks back up at him.

“Just one,” She answers, and her frown tilts into a small, soft smile before she asks, “Do you want to take one together?” 

___

Greedily, Nobara snatches the stack of freshly printed photos out of Megumi’s hands.  (y/n) and Yuji are too busy sharing theirs with each other, and Nobara had been dying to know what photos Megumi and (y/n) had taken on their last outing.  By the time the group had met up and gone home, their cameras were already full, and she knew she hadn’t been the subject of a single one of them.

“I swear Fushiguro if these are all dumb pictures of pumpkins, I’ll—” 

But her threat falls short after sliding through the first three pictures.

The first was (y/n) on the path, just standing and smiling.  It wasn’t special, there wasn’t even a pumpkin in the background, but it was cute.

The second was a picture of her crouched down and tying her shoe.  Her face wasn’t even in the picture, her hair was hanging in front of it, but if you squinted you could barely make out the tip of her nose.

Then the third was another candid, where she was pretending to hold a gourd like a gun.

“What the—?” 

Nobara flips through to the next one in the stack, and yet again there’s a candid of her climbing up the side of a hay bale tower.  At least that one captured her smile.  She shouldn’t have been surprised to see the fifth one in the stack was also of (y/n), this time sitting on top of the haystack victoriously

“You’ve got to be kidding me, dude” 

“Okay give them back—!” Megumi tries to grab the stack of pictures from Nobara before she could keep being nosey, but she deflects fast, swiveling to turn away from him and keep skipping through the photos.

He shouldn’t have let her get her hands on them to begin with, but it was too late now.  If he caused too big of a scene, Yuji and (y/n) would notice.  He didn’t exactly want all of his pictures on display.

So Nobara kept flipping.

One was of her lifting up the tiniest of pumpkins— definitely the runt of the whole patch.  It fit in the palm of her hand but she seemed delighted by it.

The next few were just of her walking around, nothing too exciting in the frame.  Just the occasional pumpkin in the background.

There was a decent one taken from inside the shop.  (y/n) was still in the frame but her back was turned as she eyed the glass case of sweets.  Nobara could almost let Megumi off the hook for that one.  Almost.

And then the last photo was of her laughing, the blurry image of a paper cup waving in the space beside her face.  Her eyes are on the camera, so she must’ve known he was taking that picture, but judging by the surprise in her expression, it was easy to conclude she was trying to hide behind that cup.

Once she’d ogled every picture, Nobara finally turned back to Megumi.  Her brows twitched and furrowed, lips parted in shock, not a single word spoken as she handed the stack back to him.  It’s practically shoved towards him, but he doesn’t complain, just snatches them back as fast as he can.

He wants to find a way to quickly and discreetly ask her to keep this to herself, but before he can find the words, she’s gawking at him again.

“Every single one?” Nobara asks in a mutter.

“We hung out the whole time, okay? It's not like—” Megumi tries to defend himself, but it’s no use.  Nobara’s already speaking over him again.

“It’s almost pathetic, dude.  Just ask her out like a normal person” 

His brows almost raise to his hairline in shock.  Here he thought she was about to call him out for being a creep or something.  But no, her disgust only lied in his pathetic pining and lack of action.  Maybe he should have assumed that already.

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Nobara’s marching over to Yuji and demanding to see his photos as well.  Megumi’s left reeling from the whole interaction, the humiliation still lingering in his gut.

The feeling remains as (y/n) makes her way to him, her own fresh stack of photos in her hands.  There’s a nervous sort of smile on her face as she glances back at Yuji and Nobara, double checking that they were out of earshot.

“They took that pretty seriously, huh?” Her voice was still low, careful not to draw the attention of their rambunctious friends.  “Yuji takes great photos, don’t get me wrong.  But I think she should pay him for his time” 

There’s some relief in his chest when he cracks a smile, a small laugh coming out.  He could only imagine the quality of Nobara and Yuji’s photos, certainly prepped for instagram.

“I bet she still puts filters over all of them” He mutters back, and (y/n) stifles a giggle behind her hand, but nods her head in agreement.

“Can we leave now or what?” Nobara calls out, already dragging Yuji by the arm to leave the store.  “I want to get boba before home” 

“Boba sounds good,” (y/n) agrees softly.  “Let’s go” 

As the red head continued to drag her friend despite him arguing that he was an adult who could walk by himself, she turned and aggressively whispered something to him.  After her obvious threatening, she glances back at (y/n) and Megumi, which Yuji promptly follows her pointed glance.  Suddenly after that he was upright and speed walking along with her.

(y/n) and Megumi share a baffled look as their friends so blatantly ditch them, but they don’t exactly pick up the pace to follow.

“So, did you get good photos?” Megumi asks, tucking his own away in his pocket.  Foolishly, he hoped if they were out of sight she wouldn’t ask him about them.

“Oh,” (y/n) chuckles nervously, holding her stack of pictures in both hands.  She tilts them towards herself so he can’t see, and Megumi raises a brow at the secrecy.  “It’s kind of embarrassing, actually” She says sheepishly.

Her cheeks flood with color, and Megumi can’t help the curious grin that begins to stretch across his face.

“Embarrassing?” He repeats, sounding horrifically hopeful.  (y/n) sighs, and sticks her arm out, handing him the stack.  He’s quick to take them and start flipping through, eyeing her anxious demeanor in his peripheral vision.

“Yuji’s probably going to tell you anyway.  But… they’re sort of all..” 

His steps slow further after quickly sliding through the bunch of pictures.

The first was at the entrance of the pumpkin patch, with the cute sign with the family name painted on it, and just under it was him.  He wasn’t paying attention, and quite frankly he looked rather bored standing there.  She must’ve taken it while he was still pouting about having to go.

The next photo was of the sparrow poking at the rotted pumpkin, and he had to admit the way she captured it actually was sort of cute.

The third was the photo Megumi dreaded seeing.  He recognized it as soon as he saw himself standing on the thin path of dirt.  He grimaced as he looked closer to see just how bad it was.  But to his surprise, he wasn’t scowling like he thought he’d been.  He was actually smiling.  

Which was odd… he certainly didn’t remember smiling for that picture.  He clearly remembered being upset because he hadn’t tried to look nice for her picture at all.

He glances at (y/n) to gauge her reaction so far, but she was holding her expression at a neutral state, waiting for him to react first.

So Megumi goes back to the photos, and flips to the next one.  Which was… also him.  It wasn’t anything special, just him standing there, but he was smiling a little bit in that one, too.

When the following is also a candid of him with that dumb little smile, he glances over at (y/n) again, raising a brow at her in silent question.

She’s a tough one to crack, but the corner of her lips gives her away as she tries to bite back a smile.  His own smile is unable to be hidden as he flips through a few more photos.

And to his shock and delight, they’re all him.  Him while he was picking up that big pumpkin she dared him to, him while he was drinking his coffee and not paying attention, him just standing and doing nothing in particular, but for whatever reason, she’d used up all her film on capturing it.  

His favorite is the one of the both of them.  She’d given him the camera so he could stretch his arm out and snap the photo selfie style.  They’re sitting at the small table, two paper cups and the enormous bear claw between them, but pushed aside as (y/n) leans across the tabletop in order to better center herself.  She’s grinning from ear to ear, her chin set in one hand while the other holds up a peace sign.  Megumi’s smile isn’t as wide but nevertheless it’s genuine, and anyone looking at the picture would know.  It’s a great picture of the two of them, and he thinks it’s probably the first, too. 

Megumi hadn’t realized he’d gone through the whole stack till he flips to the next one and is met with the first photo, but once he does, (y/n’s) quick to reach out and take them back.  She doesn’t snatch them as aggressively as Nobara had, she handles them gently, careful not to leave an ugly smudge or crease.

Megumi watches with eager intrigue as she tucks the edges together neatly, making the stack smooth in her hands.

“Sorry if that’s creepy— is that creepy?” She turns to him suddenly, full of worry that she’d crossed a line, but Megumi just chuckles, and shakes his head at her.

“Not creepy” He muses, his soft smile remaining as he dips his hand into his pocket, retrieving his own small collection of photos.

He stares at them for an indecisive minute, clenching and unclenching his jaw, working up the courage to make the smallest of gestures.  When he does hold them out to her, he still doesn’t say a thing.  His throat is too dry and hot to even try.  He thinks it would be worse if his voice cracked right now.

(y/n) smiles as she tucks her pictures away in her purse with great care so that she could better look through the pictures he’d taken.  His face flushes with color when she finally takes them from him.  Even the small brush of the tips of her fingers against his has Megumi’s breath catching in his throat.

And he holds his breath as she eagerly slides through the stack of photos.  His throat is far too constricted now to show any sign of life.  He very well could pass out at any moment.  He just hopes she’d leave him there in a heap on the ground.

The relief of the exhale doesn’t come until she begins to giggle.  It’s soft at first, almost under her breath as she continues admiring his photos, but then it erupts into something brilliant and bubbly, as if it was coming out of her uncontrollably.  As lovely as the reaction was, it didn’t do much to ease Megumi’s nerves.  They began to sink their teeth into his heart and gut, and he knew that any minute now, his knees would give out.

When her laughter calms down and she finally looks up at him, the surprise is evident on his features when he sees her colored cheeks and nervous smile.  She hands the stack back to him, and Megumi’s quick to tuck them into his pocket, where maybe he they’d disappear forever, or at least just from the front of their minds.

“That’s pretty cute, huh?” She asks, an aftershock of quiet laughter shaking her shoulders and crinkling the corners of her eyes.  This time, Megumi can’t help the way he laughs with her, but he does duck his head bashfully.

(y/n) thinks it’s all the more cuter, how he resorts to his nervous habit of rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but directly at her.  She wonders if he even knows he’s doing it.  With a surge of confidence, she rocks on her feet.

“Wanna ditch our friends and get lunch or something?” 

He shrugs and nods, thinking anything would be better sustenance than the too-sugary drinks that Nobara had an addiction to.  But the implication of the question dawns on him too late, and suddenly his eyes are widening as he realizes what she really meant.

“You mean— like, a date?” 

It’s so damn cute the way his brows furrow and then raise ever so slightly, waiting without a single ounce of patience for her clarification.  (y/n’s) giggling again as she nods her head, putting him out of his misery.

“Yeah, like a date,” She repeats teasingly.

Megumi nods his head again, this time faster, as if there was a time limit to her offer and he was worried he’d already wasted too much of it.  Her smile brightens and there’s a small but noticeable skip in her step as they head off in a new direction together.

“Now maybe it won’t be so creepy when our friends see those pictures” She says, and Megumi can’t decipher if she’s messing with him or not.  The look he gives her barely hides his panic.

“They’re gonna see them?”

“What do you think they’re talking about right now?” (y/n) retorts, knowing for a fact that Yuji and Nobara were gossiping away about the pair’s photos that consisted only of each other.  

The thought makes Megumi’s face feel hot, and there’s no discretion in the way he tugs at his collar.  The idea makes him nervous, his stomach flipping excessively.  That said, he knew with the amount of gossip those two chatterboxes would generate, there was plenty of time to add a date to today’s agenda.

“They probably won’t even notice we’re gone”

(y/n) nods in agreement.

“They’ll be grateful to have the time for girl talk,” She teases.

With purpose, she steps closer to him so she could link her arm around his, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow and shyly smiling up at him.  Megumi returns the smile, his arm hooking a little further to keep her tucked next to him as close as he wanted.  It was another chilly day outside, but he could almost forget about it with the way her closeness sparked warmth in his chest that flooded throughout his whole body.  He hoped he’d get to do this for the rest of their day—

“So… where do we want to go?”

—and more days to come. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[fantasticsandwich]

yandere influencer x fem! reader (pt 1)

Don't you know you're the apple of his eye?

The dull hum of the museum’s air conditioning blended with the soft shuffle of footsteps, hardly alleviating the stifling heat that clung to  your skin. You trailed behind Cillian, gaze lingering on a serene landscape that seemed worlds away from the cramped gallery you occupied. However, instead of succumbing to the immense discomfort of being perceived, Cillian was in his element, angling his body to capture the perfect selfie, his phone held aloft.

“Stand over there,” he directed without looking your way, focused on capturing his reflection in the glass protecting a centuries-old portrait. “I need more light.”

Yielding an ungodly ring light, you shuffled into place, feeling the tight pull of your blouse as you dangled it over your head. Struggling to hold it in one hand, you fidgeted, tugging at the fabric, wishing you could blend into the walls and disappear. Your oversized glasses slid down the bridge of your nose as you glanced at Cillian, who paused to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead before flashing another practiced smile at his phone. Or rather, yours, because he thought pictures always looked better through your lens despite the inferior quality.

A couple cast a glare in your direction, clearly annoyed by the disruption. You watched Cillian wave dismissively at the glaring onlookers, his attention never straying from the image on his screen.

“Can’t have them ruining the shot,” he murmured.

As Cillian lined up another photo,  your thoughts churned. The museum had become a stage, and Cillian, its sole performer. Every sculpture, every painting—they were merely props for his endless stream of portraits. You wondered if he saw anything beyond the likes and comments each picture might garner.

“Isn’t it hot in here?” you ventured, seeking some acknowledgment of the discomfort you felt. “The light isn’t helping. Maybe we could enjoy the art without—”

“Comfort doesn’t get followers, Y/N,” he interjected, his tone light but firm. “You know how it is. Image is everything.”

“Right, of course,” you answered, your cheerful facade slipping into place as easily as your sleeves slipping down your arms. “Image is everything.”

In the silence that followed, punctuated only by the sound of Cillian’s camera shutter, the art around you—a tapestry of colors and emotions—seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the one-sided performance playing out before it.

His silhouette morphed with the statue beside him, his body language shifting from casual to statuesque in a heartbeat.

“Y/N,” he called over his shoulder. “Stand next to that one. I want  a photo. It looks like you.”

You hesitated, your eyes tracing the contours of the marble goddess before her: poised, serene, and eternally graceful. You glanced down at your own trendy and curated, yet slightly mismatched attire.

“Um, sure,” you replied, stepping forward with a forced smile. Your limbs felt awkward as you raised an arm, trying to emulate the statue's elegant gesture. The solid chill of the museum air wrapped around your exposed skin, making you acutely aware of how out of place you looked.

“Just like that,” Cillian encouraged from behind the camera, his voice smooth as silk. The device made a soft click sound as it captured the moment.

“Did it turn out okay?” You asked, hoping your performance had been convincing enough to meet his standards.

“Let me see,” Cillian murmured, tapping on the screen with slender fingers. A pause stretched between the pair, filled with the hum of distant conversation and the subtle clicks of camera shutters from other visitors. “Perfect,” he declared, the word dropping from his lips like a verdict. He switched off the camera, his eyes not meeting yours. “Just perfect.”

Your heart fluttered with a mixture of relief and unease. His approval was something you couldn’t help but crave, despite the cost. His hand brushed against yours as he handed back the device, leaving a trail of cold uncertainty in its wake.

“Thanks for helping,” he said with a smile. “Let me treat you to something.”

Exiting the viewing hall, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the muted whispers of other patrons as you and Cillian found your way to a secluded bench in the museum's on-site cafe. A sigh escaped  you, your shoulders slumping slightly as you settled onto the cool metal seat, Cillian taking the booth. Already, he held his phone. His thumbs flicked across the screen, dredging forth a gallery of images.

“Look,” Cillian said, holding the phone between them. On the screen was a photo of him standing confidently next to a marble statue, both strikingly handsome, distant and untouchable, cold in their own regard. “Which is prettier?”

You hesitated, your gaze flitting between his expectant eyes and the image of the two figures frozen in time. You zoomed in to inspect their expressions. The statue’s face was one of great speculation, perhaps even sorrow. Cillian, though undeniably attractive, seemed haughty, almost too aware of his beauty. You experienced a surge of jealousy when you realized his skin was as pale as marble and his eyes were as clear as the glass protecting it from view. Adorned by a light blush, his cheeks were not untouched by the heat. Still, not a single hair was out of place. Not a single blemish or dark spot on that noble farce. His skin was smoother than porcelain.

Meanwhile, spotting your bespeckled reflection on the screen nearly caused your heart to stop. Little flyaway strands plastered against your forehead and splay out across your flushed cheeks. Sighing, you turned your head away, pressing against your shoulder to push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. You felt a dull ache as your lips parted to answer, only for the words to tangle in your throat.

“Hard to choose, right?”

“Both are remarkable,” you managed to say, your words carefully neutral. You hoped your voice didn't betray the unease that coiled within, the sense of being tested. His smile widened, but there was a sharpness to it that didn't quite reach his eyes, and you wondered if your response had been enough to satisfy.

“Of course,” Cillian replied, the word drawn out like a soft purr. “But I’d prefer you say I’m living art.”

Your gaze lingered on the screen as Cillian flicked to another photograph, this one a close-up of his profile silhouetted against a canvas of Renaissance art. His nose stood out. Roman, straight, and perfect, casting a shadow that seemed sculpted by the same hands that had carved the figures they admired all afternoon.

“You are. You look like a statue,” you murmured, voice laced with an involuntary admiration that made your stomach clench. Why weren’t you as pretty as him? Was some cosmic force punishing you for a misdeed in a past life?

“Yeah?” Cillian reveled in your praise, leaning closer. “And what about my other features? Do you think they’re just as perfect?”

You glanced at the high curve of his cheekbones, the arch of well-groomed brows, and how his smile never appeared to belong to you.

“More so. It could’ve been modeled off of you, but you’re still incomparable.”

Abruptly popping out his seat, Cillian muttered an excuse and bolted to the counter. He swiped your desserts up and returned in three long strides. Carefully, he placed them onto the table. Humming cheerfully, you swiped a spoon off the table and guided its tapered head to the dessert.

“Wait,” he said, hand blocking the spoon’s path. “Take some pictures.”

Sighing, you yielded and accepted his phone. The parfait was already melting into a puddle of unappealing, inedible goo, but you slid it across the table. When you pulled back from the lukewarm glass, sugary residue clung to your fingers. The strawberry syrup was congealing, slowly sinking to the bottom to mingle with the yogurt, bleeding pink.

Staring at the mess, you licked your lips. You longed to steal a spoonful, but you couldn’t even consider eating until Cillian decided they had enough pictures. Already, you had snapped fifteen at every angle possible. Upon request, you even shimmied out of your seat to take more.

To think, you could’ve been at home, studying, doing anything else instead of practicing your still-life portrait skills. You shouldn’t have been so excited to be invited out by Cillian. Excitement only brought disappointment.

Popping upright, your knee nearly knocked against the underside of the table. At the last second, Cillian reached out, slotting his hand between to lessen the impact. His skin was warm and soft against yours. His palm enveloped the entirety of your knee. You winced and nervously laughed at the contact, swatting him away.

“Tell me what you think about them,” you said, passing the phone back into the hands of its owner.

Your beaded keychain snagged on a strand of hair that had fallen loose from your ponytail. Wincing, you halted to allow Cillian to detangle it. Once free, you moved to stand at his side, peering over his shoulder as he flicked through every photo. One by one, Cillian kept zooming in on his face, only to pinch his fingers back out to focus on a minuscule detail. Not a single pixel was free from scrutiny.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, he sighed. His hands snuck out across the table, then his gangly arms followed. Elbows resting on the table, he cradled his face in his palms. His gaze rose, narrowed onto you, startlingly innocent.

Although it enhanced his features during photoshoots, you loathed his opaque expressions. Even after several years of knowing him, it was impossible to gauge his response, to anticipate his next word. Fortunately, most of his requests were only minimally irritating to fulfill.

“Can you take a few more pics on your phone? Maybe they’ll turn out different.” He requested, peering up from his device. Neck craned back to view you, his hair flopped over, billowing out into disarray.

A stray strand brushed against your nose, tickling. His roots were growing in, stark against his bleached strands. You pursed your lips, urging your attention elsewhere. Otherwise, he’d ask what you were looking at, and you’d have no choice but to answer. Since that apparently wasn’t a solitary task, you could expect to dedicate an additional hour to helping him pick a shade then dye his hair.

Self-conscious at the proximity, you stabbed your fingers through your hair, tugging the thick mop back. Prodding through knots, you felt the sweat of your scalp melting through your fingertips, boiling into your skin. Mournfully, you realized you would have to take another shower. And to think, you finished your favorite shampoo the morning prior. You’d ask him to buy more and call it a photography fee.

Feeling more coerced than inspired into the act, you sighed and snatched your bag off the back of the chair. Rummaging through the contents, you plucked your phone out. Cillian eyed the keychain with a small grin.

You inhaled for the sake of your patience. Lowering into another awkward position, you guided the camera around, searching for the perfect angle as he posed, arms thrown over the back of the plush seat.

He was rather opinionated about composition; he liked either having his face centered in images or leaning more to the right-hand side. Rule of thirds, symmetry, and whatnot. A simple photo became a portrait, something meant to rival baroque image. You clicked another picture when he scooped a glob of the parfait onto the spoon. Another, when he took a bite, then another when he pressed the spoon to his lips, and another when his eyes fluttered shut.

At some point during the ten-minute extension, a drop of the watery yogurt slipped past your trained eye, dribbling onto his chin. You set the phone down and moved to grab a tissue off of the table when he prompted you to continue. You complied. At last, Cillian decided to grant your wobbly arms mercy as he finally picked his final pose. To end it, he winked and blew a kiss. 

You grumbled, plotting back onto your seat. You winced when the cold metal touched your thighs. “Pay me.”

“An air kiss isn’t enough? Want a real one?”

“Pass. I’d rather gut myself.” You swiped your hair over your shoulder and grabbed a stack of napkins to fan yourself with. Hoping to experience a reprieve from the heat, you reached for your dessert and was sorely disappointed to discover that it had liquified. Only the precipitation clinging to the cup was cold. You grabbed the cup and sloshed its contents around, watching globs spill over the edge. You looked over at Cillian’s dessert and sighed upon discovering that it was in an even worse state. His big, warm hands had cradled it for too long.

Opening up Instagram, you slumped over, assassinated by a surge of jealousy. Posts about vacations in Granada, California, and Rome filled your recommended feed. These broke college students shouldn’t have been partying abroad, living it up. And why were they on vacation when there were still two weeks of spring semester left? Did they take their finals early? How? Could you still get in on the action? Oh well; it wasn’t as if you had money for plans anyway.

When you were done imposing misery upon yourself, you handed your phone to Cillian. He accepted it with the grace of a dog snagging meat.

“I appreciate it,” he said, attention glued to the screen. You saw the images flash across his eyes, his own face superimposed on his retinas as he zoomed in, pinching and frowning. After browsing and sending the photos, he placed your phone down on his lap. Ignoring your sudden anxiety, he rested his hands on the table and smiled. “I mean it. No one else does this for me. Thank you.”

You observed the rings on his knuckles. Glinting like teeth in subdued laughter, he tapped against the table. So pretty and shiny, gleaming with sunlight… And that face… If you became rich enough, you would consider asking him for fashion and skincare advice. He’d taken to giving you gifts at random, and all the products were from expensive brands you couldn’t pronounce.

The perks of having a trust fund, you supposed.

“You’re leaving the country soon, right?” You leaned back against the chair and splayed out your legs, recoiling when your foot made contact with his shim.

A trickle of sweat ran past your neck, seeping down to the plunge of your shirt. Contrarily, Cillian was dressed to attract the sun; he wore a dark dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows. The top few buttons were unfastened to reveal the black designer t-shirt trapped beneath. His jeans were black, with slices at the knees.

“I’ll only be gone for two weeks. Why do you ask? Are you going to miss me? Already feeling the crushing weight of my absence? Don’t worry. I’ll text you everyday. I’ll even bring you souvenirs.”

“No.” Firmly, you shook your head. “You’re the one who’s going to miss me.”

“Get WhatsApp so I can text you without getting charged. It’s about time you finally downloaded it.”

“So you can spam my messages with even more pictures of yourself? No thanks. You have a mirror, and my gallery is already filled by you.” You narrowed your eyes. “Even if I wanted to, how can I download anything if you have my phone?”

“You mean this thing?” Teasingly, Cillian brandished the device. When you reached for it, he leaned back, toting it out of reach. “I can figure out your password and get it for you.”

He typed random combinations of numbers until he successfully unlocked it.  You rose from your seat, more serious about retrieving it. To counter, Cillian hunched over, shielding the screen with his body.

“Relax,” he said, head disappearing beneath the table. Self-conscious again, you tugged your skirt down. “I’m sending myself the photos you took of me.”

Red with anger, you joined him, ducking beneath the table. With the slit of your phone screen showing through the opening in his posture, you glanced down, realizing he was going through your messages and replying with a selfie of himself.

“Cillian…” You grasped his shoulder. “Stop being a cunt. I’m not getting WhatsApp if you’re going to keep acting like this.”

Ignoring you, he abruptly stood. In y ourhaste to follow, your head slammed on the underside of the table. With a hand pressed against your scalp, you rose, only to encounter your frazzled expression staring back on the screen.

“Say cheese!”

Holding the phone over his head, Cillian snapped a selfie of you. As usual, he was smiling, sparkling, while your hair was frazzled and your face was sullen. Although you begged him not to, he promptly posted the picture to your Instagram, accompanied by some of the parfait and himself.

“Cillian,” you tried again. Shaking his shoulders, you groaned when he refused to budge. “Alright, then. I guess I’m just gonna get your phone.”

As if shocked by lightning, he jolted upright. He stared at her, eyes peering into your soul. “Go on. I don’t have anything to hide. But why don’t you want me to have yours? Do you have something to hide?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Good.” He shot you one of his infamous, heart-melting smiles. “Since I already looked at yours, we can look at mine together. It’d please you, right?”

There were moments when he sounded peculiar. Was it something in his tone, or was it his irregular phrasing? Regardless of the strange feeling’s origin, you felt a guilty caution and were inclined to dishonesty in his presence. You wouldn’t want to be a bad friend by misinterpreting his overly-zealous intentions.

Swiping his phone off the table, Cillian placed it into your palm. He relayed the password, but his hand remained enclosed around yours, so you punched in the code with your thumb. Chewing your cheek,  you scrolled, hesitantly tapping onto a conversation, utterly disinterested until you saw the strange memes passed between Cillian and his friend.

“Here,” you said, resigned as you handed the device back.

He smiled. “See? Nothing to hide.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Shrugging, Cillian retrieved your phone from his pocket again to scrutinize the photos in your camera roll, trained on his appearance as he glided between filters and toyed with the saturation.

You futilely observed him before redirecting your thoughts to something more productive, the upcoming final exams. Soon thought, you began to daydream about fast cars and countryside estates, forgetting how, with the new year’s onset, you watched self-help videos, browsed countless articles to curb your materialistic tendencies.

You took up new hobbies with your friends, painting and snacking on charcuterie and wine. You denied yourself the pleasures of theaters, of restaurants and shopping hauls. But when your paycheck arrived, you found yourself partitioning it into tuition costs, then different discretionary categories.

Your mother incessantly begged you to enjoy your youth. One day, you’d have a fulfilling hospital job, packed with plentiful hours. Even then, there was an expected exchange of currency; time for a pay stub. So, at some point, you lost the desire to save and smartly concluded, that whether for necessity or whim, people only made money to spend it. Money was entertainment. Money was activity. Money was the tears in your mother’s eyes when you paid for half of your snot-nosed brother’s school fees.

Money was whatever you needed it to be, and it was all you lived for. You had tried amending this mindset countless times, but no other inspiration stuck. It was fortunate that you were friends with someone who had too much of it. Cillian spoiled you on excursions, with gifts. So, if he had money, then money was him, and by proxy, you were getting that bag while being in his presence.

Once, during your final year of secondary school, you turned to Cillian for advice. You purchased a shirt from a designer brand and wore it to his birthday party, only to have his younger cousin spill juice on you, Rianning it. On the verge of a breakdown, you stormed to the kitchen. As you furiously scrubbed your shirt with a dishrag, you heard footsteps in pursuit. Teary-eyes, you turned to him and asked to hear his truth of the world.

He hadn’t been rich back then. He was only the boy in the council house next to yours, your life-long friend. He knew you better than you knew yourself. You were attuned to his every quirk.

“I’m so tired of buying, buying, buying, but never feeling like I have enough. How do you get through it? Feeling like you’re enough without having it?”

“I’ll show you,” he said, reaching into his pocket. He removed a small clasp mirror, the kind that comes free from stores with a hundred-dollar purchase, and unceremoniously presented it. “You’ve got to love yourself.”

“And how do I go about that when I haven’t the slightest clue?”

“It’s simple.” A light red tinted his cheeks. “You tell yourself ‘You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,’ and know that’s what you’re always meant to be. At the same time, you need to know you’re insignificant no matter what you do. Only relationships define you, and no one wants to be around someone pathetic. You’ll only be used like that, so you need to change to protect yourself.”

Almost reluctantly, he peered up from the glassy surface to look at you, but you felt as if he never truly looked away, as if he were still tracing the contours of his every feature through the glare of the spectacles perched on you nose.

“People say beauty is on the inside, but if you’re ugly on the inside, then you know it can be manufactured.”

Cillian still hadn’t stopped staring at himself as he walked past anything reflective, anything that resembled him. He’d still stare so deeply into your glasses, at his reflection in your eyes and you still wondered if he was searching for a mirror that would twist his form into something beautiful.

You were snapped out of the memory when he voiced a request.

“Your turn,” he said suddenly. “May I?”

“May you… May you do what?”

“You looked at me earlier. I want to do the same.”

“I  mean, you’re already looking at me…” You felt his stare and winced. “But it’s… alright? Yeah, go ahead.”

The air was thick as you waited, trying to anticipate his thoughts, unsure of what he had in mind. Cillian observed you with an intensity that felt almost palpable, his scrutiny a tangible force that rendered you immobile—a specimen under a microscope, a subject in a frame.

“Such pretty features,” he commented softly. His fingers slid along the curve of your cheek, coming to rest on the bridge of your nose. Before you could comprehend his intentions, he plucked your glasses off with a swift, almost surgical movement.

The world around you dissolved into a wash of colors, each brushstroke of reality smearing into an indistinguishable palette of hues. Sounds seemed to amplify in the absence of clear sight, the distant murmur of museum visitors swirling around like wind rustling through autumn leaves.

“You look better without these. You can’t see without them.” He dangled the glasses just out of focus, the lenses catching the light and casting ghostly reflections onto the blurred canvas. “But when I’m this close, can you only see me?” He leaned in, noses almost touching. “Sometimes, I like when you wear them, too.”

You blinked, trying to force clarity back into your vision, but it was futile. The room felt larger, more intimidating, as if the ceiling had stretched away and the walls were leaning in to listen. You were acutely aware of your heartbeat, a tumultuous rhythm against the backdrop of this disorienting scene.

“Cillian?” Your voice quivered slightly, betraying your unease.

“Shh,” he hushed, the sound slicing gently through the air. “Just look at me.”

You tried, oh how you tried, but his face was nothing more than a kaleidoscope of light and shadow, his features lost in a fog. He loomed over you, a specter made of shifting shades rather than flesh and bone. The faint scent of his cologne, usually so comforting, now seemed overpowering, filling your nostrils and clouding your thoughts.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, though whether he spoke of you or to himself, you couldn’t tell. The air was charged with a strange energy you couldn’t define. “Can you see me?”

“Only… only shapes. Outlines.”

“Like an abstract. Can you read me? Do you know what I mean?”

“No?” You said, uncertainty. “If you want to talk art, give me a day to talk to that one upperclassman who keeps begging to paint you.”

His presence was static, pointillism in slap-dash dots, yet there was a sharpness to it, like the glint of a knife hidden beneath silk. Suddenly, Cillian's hands cupped your face. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks in an unexpectedly tender gesture.

“You’re cute.” A soft laugh escaped his lips. The familiar sensation of being pinched and appraised was oddly comforting in its normalcy.

“Alright,” he said briskly, pulling away and breaking the momentary spell. Your gaze fluttered up, onto him. He stood, legs screeching against the ground as he jammed his chair under the table. “It’s about time to leave. We’ve got places to be.”

You blinked, trying to focus on his voice as it cut through the disorientation of your vision. “Can I have my glasses? And my phone?” you asked, reaching out in the direction of his voice, fingers grasping blindly at the air.

“Your glasses?” Cillian teased, dangling them just out of reach. “But you look so adorable without them.” His laugh held an edge, like the thin crack running down a perfectly glazed vase.

“As you know, I need to see,” you said, the words coming out more plaintive than intended. You felt for the spectacles once more, movements uncertain without sight to guide you.

With a sigh that suggested he was granting a favor, Cillian finally placed the glasses in your outstretched hand. The world snapped back into sharp relief as you slid them onto your nose, the cafe and its patrons coming into clear view once again.

“And this?” Cillian echoed, his tone playful. Retrieving the device from his pocket, he waved it around. “I’ll give it back, but you need to promise that we'll look at these together tomorrow. I want to coordinate our feeds.”

“Sure, yeah. We’ll align our online synergies tomorrow,” you echoed, using buzzwords and nodding although a part of you screamed in protest.

Standing, you snatched a few napkins and wiped down the photo shoot's debris. On the way out, you tossed the melted goo into the trash and bid him goodbye, slouching as you turned away and stepped onto the sidewalk, almost immediately surrounded by a torrent of pedestrians. You surged ahead, elbowing your way through the crowd.

“Hell is other people,” Cillian mindlessly commented. You instantly pinpointed his melodic voice amidst the throng. “Want me to give you a ride? Or walk you to the bus stop?”

Halting, you spun around, wrapping your hands around your mouth to shout. “No thanks. It’s not that far. You should also get home before it gets dark.”

“Alright. Be safe. Don’t get kidnapped.”

“Walking with you could endanger me. Someone would take you for ransom.”

“And you’d pay for it, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, I need to get my paycheck first.”

“Y/N,” he whined.

“You’re not Caesar, so why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged and turned away, finally bidding you goodbye. His arms dropped to his side, madly swinging. You watched for a moment as he pranced, caught in his cool-guy act that he pursued it even as he stumbled over a curb. You chewed your lip to stifle a laugh, allowing yourself a final glance at his strange gait. You began at a leisurely pace, loosening up to let your arms swing like him. Maybe he was happy because he allowed himself to live so freely.

[withered-tears]

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that the autobots aren't human.

Well, not in the literal sense. Of course they aren't human. They are giant alien robots that turn into cars, for goodness sake.

But they talk like humans. They walk like humans. Even the way they think sometimes feels extremely human-like.

So sometimes, yes, it is easy to forget they are not human.

This had the unfortunate side effect of, unintentionally, see more than one situation through a human filter, so to speak.

Such as, for example, their durability.

Because when Bulkead ran through the groundbridge carrying Bee's body, with Arcee running next to him carrying Bee's head, every human present in the base froze.

Jack's eyes were wide open, face growing pale.

Miko, in contrast, was looking almost green. Hands clasping her mouth, either to stop herself from sobbing or puking. Tears were streaming down her face.

June, although horrified, was focusing solely on keeping Raf in place.

Raf was the worst. As soon as he saw Bee, he started screaming.

June was doing her best to try and comfort the kid while keeping him from running to his friend's body. Hugging him against her chest to keep him from looking at the horrible visage.

Agent Fowler was grim, fists and teeth clenched. When Cliffjumper died, he was the one who dealt with the horrible bureaucracy of asking the bots about proper protocol. About post-mortem condecoration, about burial rites, about tradition and wishes.

Now, at least he knew the proper way to proceed, which boils down to let the bots do as they please with their dead and keep any nosy superior out of their business.

Then Ratchet spoke.

"Finally. Bulkhead, drop him in a berth, and bring me the second crate of spares. Arcee, bring the head here. I want to start running diagnostics before- Bulkhead! The second crate! I'll have to repair most ports on Bumblebee's neck, f not replace them outright."

June was the first human to speak.

"What do you mean 'repair' his ports?"

Bumblebee's head had been cut off. Surely there's no repairing that, right?

Ratchet rolled his optics (once again, such human-like gestures) at the question, barely paying any mind to the humans as he worked on Bumblebee's head.

"What, you expected me to just shove his head in place and wrape tape around it? Sorry to disappoint, but reattaching a head is a bit more complicated than-"

"Bee's alive?"

Raf's voice was awful. Voice cracking and filled with such fragile, fragile hope.

Ratchet's eyes widened (so human-like) in surprise before his entire demeanor changed.

He carefully and gently picked up Raf to bring him closer to his workstation.

"Of course he's alive. Here, look. Although his neck was severely damaged, his processors, his brain module, are unscathed. The sudden lost of power caused them to crash, which is why I'm running diagnostics through his software."

Raf, small, young, terrified, and brilliant Raf, was quickly putting the information together.

"So it's like, it's like a computer that got unplugged without being properly turned off first?"

It was obvious Ratchet was not happy being compared to such inferior, human technology. But he held any complaints to himself.

"Yeah, something like that, kid. As I said, I have to check every port in his neck to make sure they won't overload his processors once I reconnect them. Not to mention, all vital components on a cybertronian body not only receive power from the spark and energon processing, but they also store a small portion of it. Like an internal battery. Bumblebee's brain could be kept powered off for years without any side effects, other than some minor lag once reactivated. Not that his repairs will take nearly that long. I'll have Bumblebee back online in a couple of days, a week at most."

Raf was sniffing, wiping his face with his sleeves. "Can, can I help?" His voice was still scratchy.

Ratchet huffed, trying really hard to sound annoyed.

"Why not. Might as well have a second pair of optics double-checking the code. Maybe you'll even learn something."

Yeah, the Autobots were not human.

But they sure acted human-like often enough.

[purpleqilinwrites]

first.

a/n: these days have been feeling yucky to me (unrelated to fandom), so i wrote a little nanami thing to cheer myself up.

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

character: nanami kento

genre: fluff

info: established relationship (nanami is your husband); reader is also a jujutsu tech alumnus

warnings: high school dumbassery

synopsis: allegedly, gojou was your first kiss. allegedly.

word count: 1.3k

Nanami Kento

"Can I help you?" you asked, your smile evident in your tone as you looked at Nanami from over the novel in your hands.

There was a certain sullenness that knitted his brows together, one you recognised as being a symptom of having a few too many necessary interactions with a certain white-haired sorcerer. Nanami slumped backwards into the armchair, running a hand down his face with a tired sigh. You chuckled lightly to yourself as you waited for him to speak, eyes fixed on the words on the page in front of you but not reading any of them.

"Gojou-san said something to me as I was leaving the school, and I'd like you to confirm or deny it," Nanami said, finally.

You let out a thoughtful hum, slotting an expired stamp card into your novel before closing it and leaving it on the coffee table. "And what did he say?" you asked, feeling the beginnings of a strain in your cheeks as your smile widened, anticipating.

Gojou did say the damnedest things sometimes.

Nanami groaned, his hand immediately going to his already loosened tie to tug it off his neck. The collar of his dress shirt fell open in the absence of the tie, and you allowed yourself to be distracted by his Adam's apple for a second before bringing your attention back to the increasingly interesting conversation you were having.

"Before I say anything else, I want you to know that I'm asking purely for curiosity's sake."

You nodded along, urging him to continue. He let out a long exhale as a means of pause, and you mirrored the break in his words to settle into a more comfortable position on the couch, still anticipating.

Nanami was uncharacteristically hesitant with his words, as though he was rephrasing himself several times before anything could leave his tongue. When your husband was like this, it brought to remembrance a younger version of him who tended to cut himself off in the middle of sentences because he wasn't satisfied with how his thoughts came out. He had always been more careful when he was speaking to you.

You mentally put aside a reminder to buy some kikufuku for the sole purpose of eating the whole box in front of Gojou and not sharing. If you felt particularly devious when the day came, you could always flick some of the rice flour left at the bottom of the box at him. Maybe leave a suspicious white handprint or two on his back for his students to pester him about.

"Of course," you said, still smiling, still waiting. "But please, just say what's on your mind. I don't think I can take much more of this mystery."

"Gojou-san seemed to be under the impression that he was your first kiss. He said—"

You couldn't contain the violent cackling that boiled over your lips, slapping your hands on your thighs and folding over in your seat. "I'm-I'm sorry! Hah! Please— Go on," you said, your words coming out in pieces as you tried to stop laughing long enough to hear Nanami out.

He sighed at the sight of you misty-eyed and happy, a fond smile pulling on his lips.

While you busied yourself with wiping your tears on the ends of your sleeves, Nanami stood and stepped around the coffee table to sit beside you. You moved to swing your legs over his lap when you felt the couch dip with the addition of his weight, scooting close enough to prop your cheek on his shoulder. His hand naturally came to rest on your hip, and he leaned in to press a few kisses into your hair.

"That's what you wanted to know?" you asked, eyes bright and still slightly out of breath.

Nanami regarded your face for a moment, silently admiring you. His other hand came to cup your jaw and you obliged him, your mouth pliant against the insistent press of his.

"Is it true?" came your husband's voice, his breath warm on your face. You shook your head, chasing his lips and relishing how they curved into a smile against yours.

"But I did kiss Gojou once," you said, breaking the string of saliva with your finger as you reclined into the backrest of the couch. The pleased expression on Nanami's face immediately soured terribly. He motioned for you to elaborate before placing a hand on your thigh, squeezing lightly.

"It was in the first year of high school, sometime at the beginning of the school year," you started, laughing when Nanami's eyebrows shot up. "My first kiss was actually Shouko. After, I kissed Getou and then Gojou. All on the same day."

The pinch of his lips told you that he was still processing this revelation, so you waited. It was a lot to process even for you, when you suddenly remembered it when the school year came to an end. Three people you kissed in one day, simply because Gojou hounded the rest of you to "live life a little".

You idly smoothed the palm of your hand over the muscular plane of Nanami's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of it as he breathed.

"You kissed all of your classmates? And on the same day?" he asked, incredulous. You nodded to both questions, your smile turning sheepish. Nanami's hand on your thigh squeezed again, more firmly this time, as if there was some written confirmation in your skin about the time you kissed three other people who weren't him.

"Tell me how it happened."

You blinked.

"Are you disappointed?" you asked, already looping your arms around Nanami's torso and tucking your head under his chin, an offering. He dropped a kiss into your hair and let his lips linger there, a quiet reminder that you never needed to fear him harbouring such feelings against you.

If anything, he was disappointed in all three of your classmates for whatever transpired in those early months of your time in Jujutsu Tech. In Ieiri, Getou, and especially Gojou.

"No matter what, I love you, remember?" was the promise that he whispered into your hair, a reprise of the firm promise he gave you on your wedding day.

You giggled, repeating the words into his collarbone. It tickled him, both the feeling of your breath on his exposed skin and the assurance that you felt loved in his arms.

"Gojou started it," you said, and it made perfect sense. Nanami had suspected as much when he first heard the words from Gojou's lips. Of course, it was his upperclassman's fault. "He was convinced that having a 'kiss fest', as he called it, would be a good bonding experience for everyone. Like it was something normal to do in high school."

You left room for him to ask questions, knowing him and knowing that he'd definitely want to know more. Mentally, you replayed the whole 'kiss fest' and everything that led up to it, catching yourself by surprise with how crisp some of the details were in your mind's eye. It was a thing that you happened to participate in while you were in high school, completely uneventful and entirely disregarded.

After all, the best part of your high school years was meeting your husband. Everything else was just happenstance, smooth rocks that marked out the road that led to him.

"Did you enjoy it?" was the question that pulled you from your reminiscing.

You put your finger to your chin in thought. "Based on what? Like, taste or something?" you asked, drawing a blank when you pondered how best to answer the question posed to you. You knew when it came to him there was no wrong way to say things. It was more that you wanted to properly convey how little those three kisses meant to you.

It was Nanami's turn to laugh, the sound warm and inviting you to do the same. You brushed away the stray golden strands falling in his face, taking in the handsome image before you and committing it to memory.

[itsgrimeytime]

The Life We Could've Had || Rick Grimes (TWD)

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Based On: 'I Love You So' by The Walters

Summary: Rick knows you're gone, he does. He just keeps seeing you in everything -the distant smell of coffee in the morning, or the sand beneath his toes (when he finds himself on a beach.) And as he tried to scrub what pain he felt out of his head, he wondered just when he could see you again.

TWS: violence, guns, blood, gore, ANGST, death, disassociation, hallucinations, grief themes, main character death, crying, and very vague implications of suicide (just Rick can't do it without you, etc.)

[[A/N: This is very different than all my other works, but I honestly just wanted to write some heavy angst. Like being totally fr, this is Rick grieving you. Not for the faint of heart. I needed to get these emotions out. Thanks for reading!!!]]

Rick hadn't expected it. Maybe that's why he'd become so paranoid now.

It was supposed to be a simple run, in and out, he can't even remember what the trip had been about; what had you gone out to get?

You were just smiling, laughing, teasing him the way that you always did -you two were on the precipice of something new. It was something that you'd been dancing around for as long as you could; no matter what, everything had always been in the way.

They didn't even ask any questions-

He remembers it vividly, watching you skip ahead of a few steps -grinning wide and bright. You were about to say something. You opened your mouth, words right there on your lips. He wasn't worried then about hearing them because he thought you had time. That both of you had time-

The next thing he remembers is the stain of red on your shirt, and your face faltering in its place -your pretty smile gone.

Rick felt like he couldn't breathe, as you crumpled to your knees -gasping and god, there was so much blood. He had a spare thought of how much could be left in you if there was so much here.

His head was spinning, so the sun so bright and distantly, he heard a scream -the same way as the shot, he realized now. But he couldn't think like then, his mind solely focused on falling to his knees beside you. Blinking what felt like shock out of his mind, he was by your side -desperately pushing on your chest, it was bleeding through his hands.

"Y/N, Y/N," he was breathless, trying to turn your face to his -to meet your eyes, "-can you hear me?"

When you looked at him, your face was paler than it once was and there was blood smeared across your mouth -bright red against the skin. You were crying, inhaling like each breath was your last, and fuck, maybe it was-

Rick pushed that thought to the back of his head, ripping off the sleeve of his flannel with practiced ease. Maybe he could wrap it? Just to buy time until-

"Rick," you muttered, and your voice was broken -desperate, hopeless, "-please, don't let me become one of t-them. I'm begging-"

"Stop, don't-" he couldn't help it, his voice cracked -as he wrapped the fabric around the wound, tight, "-don't talk like that."

"Rick, look at me," you soothed, still trying to comfort him even now, "-look at me... please."

He swallowed, tipping his eyes to meet yours after lingering on the torn flannel (the blood was already seeping through), and something in him broke -looking at you. This wasn't supposed to happen, it was just-

"Hey, hey-" you spoke, struggling with every breath -your hands shakily coming to wrap gently around his face, thumbs wiping at the salty trail of tears down his cheeks, "I-I need you to know something, okay?"

"I can't-"

"You can," you encouraged, despite the tears washing at the blood on your face -there you were, hopeful, "-you're R-Rick fucking Gri-imes. You can do anything."

"Not without you," he added, desperate to cherish every last second he could, he placed his hands over yours -blood still staining the palms.

You weren't there really anymore, the color in your face fading and maybe that's why you decided to say it because you felt he needed to know, "-I love you. Always have."

He blinked, and the fog in his head cleared -Daryl was standing in front of him, leaning on the wall with a look in his eye. He knew it, everybody had been looking at him the same way since-

"Get up," he spoke, curt and somehow caring, "-ya gotta eat."

Rick sighed, pinching the top of his nose and smoothing along under his eyes. Trying to wish he'd slept better, maybe. He made a noise in response, Daryl, assuming what it meant, guided him along to some food.

He knew it was bad. He knew he needed to take better care of himself, you wouldn't like it. But still, it felt like he could hardly function. It felt like every bone in his body ached in a way that he could never fix.

Carol was next, smiling in that sad way she always had, and pulling him into a hug. Her tears spilled onto his sleeve, Rick distantly wished he could cry like that -his brain seemed slow to process everything, and sometimes he felt like he was back there. You in his arms, his hands desperate to fix it, blood everywhere, your hand shaking in his-

"Just know we're all here for you," she whispered, sniffling and her voice thick like she was holding back tears, "-okay?"

"Okay," he whispered back, tone barely above silence -he couldn't trust his voice, not now. All he wanted to do was sit and think, even just for a moment, he wanted to see you again.

They wanted him to take a break from farming, Glenn even offered up that he'd fill in until he felt more up to it. Rick refused, distantly hearing the echo of your voice 'it suits you'; he used to catch you staring at him as he worked. Palms covered in dirt and shirt even worse with sweat dripping down his skin, he truly didn't get what you liked about it. Didn't mean he was gonna stop.

That was how he got out here in the basting sun, sifting through some dirt to make more spots for planting. It was always nice, doing something he felt was so normal when he felt like everything around him wasn't.

And you helped with that too. Got him involved in simple things, like cooking, or enjoying the flowers as they bloomed. It brought him to an easier world, one he wished he could've had longer.

He leaned on his shovel, then, pushed back the tears -he didn't have time to cry. He never would, this world wasn't made for time.

"I shoulda said something earlier," he cursed to himself, swinging on the shovel as his hair drifted down. He wasn't sure he could ever really forgive himself for not.

'Always have,' it echoed around in his head, bouncing along. Rick needed to know. How long?

How long would the two of you have had? If he had just-

And then he saw it, the pattern of your favorite shirt. It was out of the corner of his eye, but he swore he... he saw it.

It wasn't surprising that it started happening, Rick had known that he started... seeing things, or hearing things. When he went through something this big, it just... it shut his senses down in a way he didn't know how to fix.

So, days went by where he'd swear to hear your laugh echoing through the halls -loud and boisterous. It was the kind when he'd barely heard -freeing, carefree, nothing to be afraid of, he'd heard it maybe once. But then, he swore...

And then it was your eyes, a gleam against the dark of the night, he froze.

Every hair on his body stood up, the chill of the cold night rushing across his skin -he knew those eyes. He couldn't ever mistake those eyes -not after, not after seeing the life fade from them.

He swore he knew those eyes.

Something in him willed to whisper out into the night, urged him to speak, to ask if he had just seen what he saw. If you were... if you were there. And right when he was on the cusp, your name sifting across his tongue for the first time in awhile-

"Dad," Carl asked, suddenly by his side (had he always been there?), "-everythin' okay?"

And Rick Grimes was a lot of things, but he was never a liar. At least not to Carl. There was no room for it in this world, you needed whole and complete trust. It probably wasn't healthy, and if this had been the world before, there was probably a guy in an armchair that would tell him so. But there isn't.

"No," he exhaled, looking out into the night -trying to find a trace of you in the stars, "-but I'm workin' on it."

Carl sighed, scooching in closer to his side -comforting, familiar, "I know, I... I miss them too."

That night was when it happened, he'd retired to sleep after the stars started to blur and his head started to slow. Brain reaching for a kind of warmth that could only be dreamed of, he hoped to get the closest to it. Usually, his nights consisted of flashes of memories, they varied on the night; sometimes he remembered the first time he held Carl. Felt so far away now, as the world twisted in this fucked up way.

He never wished this for Carl. For, for Judith...

On other nights, it was less pleasant. Blurred memories of things he could beg to forget but never would. Killing Shane, losing Lori... It all came back in full force in his sleep. Your death was no exception, he felt the blood on his hands for weeks after, and could often feel the slow beats of your heartbeats thrumming through his head. No matter how hard he tried, he could never warn you -there was always something cutting him back, holding his tongue.

And the more it repeated the more his days bled together, and the more he wished he had kept you longer.

That night, though, was different. It was sunny in his dream, in a meadow he'd never been in -well, one he at least didn't remember.

The birds were chirping and the sun was warm against his skin, not in the way he found now, but in the way of pool parties and meat on the grill -it was nostalgic. The grass was scratching against his palms in a way that felt real, but also, distant. Not a dream.

His eyes began to squint at the orange sun rise, it was bright and beautiful, but a touch too much then. The air was calm, despite his instinct to survey the area -it seemed calm, peaceful even.

A butterfly landed by his hand, perched gently on a flower; Rick could only watch it in astonishment. It had been so long since he'd seen such simply beauty -the missing adrenaline felt starchly out of place, and somehow it made him uneasy.

Then, the sun was blocked out by a shadow -his eyes were struggling to adjust to the change.

"Morning, sleepyhead," a voice spoke, bright and teasing -happy.

But he knew that voice, he knew it so well. There was no way-

Rick gasped out, finding his voice was in fact sleep-slurred -yet, he couldn't catch up with the fierce beating of his heart, "Y/N?"

You furrowed your eyebrows in a way he'd always found cute, "You expecting someone else, Grimes?"

"Well," he spoke, his smile so natural -he didn't want to break this moment, "-no."

The air here was so light, filled with the freshness of the river that ran nearby. He was quiet then, understanding that somehow the dead didn't exist here -you didn't have that worry creased deep into your skin, and feeling his pocket -his pistol remained unaccounted for.

"Good answer," you laughed, extending your hand to pull him up. Your skin was soft, he realized then -no need for callouses and dirt under your fingernails. And looking at you, you were clean -hair messy from the day, yet each strand seemed perfect in a way he couldn't describe.

You paused, noticing his silence, "Everything okay? You don't seem like you're here with me."

You could never be more wrong, he thought gently to himself. His eyes were fluttering across your face, absorbing each blemish on your skin -every wrinkle, every scab, every freckle. He needed to keep it, to know it himself. There was something about you being right in front of him, so tangible, that made him realize that he'd missed so much about you. That there were things he would never know, things he'd always wonder about.

"I'm okay," he relented, the small smile growing on his face -he couldn't miss a moment, "-just disoriented. How... How long have I been out 'ere?"

You looked at him for a second, trying to believe him (you could always see right through him), "Just a few hours, looked like you needed the sleep."

Then, you laughed -without hesitation, extending your hand forward to turn through his hair. It wasn't something he'd experienced with you, the casual affection, but it wasn't exactly unwelcome. Pulling your hand back, you swung a leaf between your fingers.

Oh.

"You like living in the dirt, mountain man?"

He laughed, shrugging at the question, "Was some good sleep."

"Mmm, I can tell," you hummed, the sort of teasing smile settling on your lips he was the most familiar with. Your hand moved up again, shaking through his hair with ease that he hadn't known but didn't feel out of place.

"Where's Carl and Judith?" he asked, curious if they were in this... dream? Universe?

"Inside," you answered, motioning passively to the house behind you, "-it's very early for them. Crossing my fingers, they're still asleep."

He stuttered in place, realizing that the country home with beautiful windows and a cliche picket fence was his. It was exactly what he pictured in his paradise, the daydreams he'd known in a more dangerous world. The real one, something in his head quipped and he pushed it far away. What was the harm of a dream?

Rick pursed his lips, hand reaching out to trace the woodwork -the frames, the porch, the rocking chairs-

"Why?" you continued, voice light and joking, "You already get sick of me?"

"No," he smiled, yes, but there was a seriousness there, "-I could never get sick of ya."

You laughed, a bit taken aback by the genuine tone, as you flashed up your left hand -there sat a ring, glimmering in the low sunrise, "I would hope not."

He blinked, a rough sinking in his stomach -you were married?

Something shifted in him then, rather untouched since... since your death, god he had loved you. It wasn't a quick process, it was slow -especially after losing Lori so suddenly. His feelings were all so mixed up then, between Carl and Shane-

But everything was so clear now, as he stared at the ring on your hand. Would that have happened if you were still...?

There wasn't anything to be official, not in the world he was in, but if he found a ring... would he have proposed?

"Rick?" you asked, hands gentle on your biceps -grounding him there, "-are you sure you're okay?"

He blinked, and something in him snapped then. This wasn't real, you weren't there not really. How was this fair? How was any of this fair? He held his hands against yours, tighter than he probably should have, but he couldn't... he couldn't lose you again.

"You're not..." he stuttered out, slow and steady -his hands shaking against your skin, "-you're not really here, are ya?"

It was suddenly then, the sunrise flickering and almost the nostalgia faded -it was suddenly very real. He could feel the warmth under his fingertips, the texture of your skin, the rise and falls of your breaths. You were right here in front of him -it was so real.

"No, not really," you sighed, moving your hands up to his cheeks -pressing your fingertips into his cheeks, "-but I think you know that. Don't you?"

Rick laughed, watery but still he felt lighter than he had in weeks, "I know, I just... I wish ya were."

You frowned, tucking a few stray curls behind his ears -holding him gently in a way he'd been lacking for so long, "I know you do, Rick, I know you do."

"I love you," he whispered, desperate to get it to you, to tell you, "-I never... I never got to tell you."

"Rick, Rick-" you soothed, dragging your hands down his arms -guiding him through his tears, "-I know. I always knew."

He exhaled, the tears bubbling in his throat -it was so heavy on his shoulders. Once he started, he wasn't sure it could stop. Not with you here, arms open and warm -he always felt so accepted with you. Nothing could scare you away, he knew that. He always knew that.

"Of course you did."

You smiled, tilting his face to match yours -gently and open to him, wholly and completely, "Rick, you know what I'm here for."

"I don't," he was ignoring it, the obvious purpose of you here -closure, "-you have to... I can't-"

"Listen to me," you tried to catch his eyes, "-you don't have to forget me-"

"I would never."

"-but you have to keep going," you were tearing up now, a heavyweight behind your words, "I can't... Shit, I can't leave without knowing you're okay."

He paused, eyes racking across your face -you were familiar now, the scars detailed on your face, and the blood on your shirt. You were exactly as you looked that day, he could almost see the blood on his hands-

"I can't," Rick cried, and it shook to your bones -an ache of something you couldn't give him, "-you know I can't."

"Yes," your thumbs were frantic wiping at his eyes, despite your own tears littering your eyes, "-you can."

He was shaking in your hands, the breaths of his lungs desperate for air -he couldn't breathe. You were still holding him there, delicate as a flower; he was precious to you, in a way you were certain many wouldn't understand.

"How am I supposed-"

"Rick," you were gentle, your tone low and despite your own fears, you comforted, "-I love you, but you need to keep going. I don't know what it's going to take. I just- I just know it's going to be hard. But you, you are one of the strongest people I've ever met."

"Don't do this," he pleaded, and he saw you hesitate then, "-please, don't."

"We didn't get a proper goodbye last time, did we?"

"Y/N," he was getting desperate, fingers tight on your clothes -holding you there as the landscape around the two of you seemed to begin to fade into a bright light, "-don't leave me."

"I love you, okay?" you spoke through tears, holding his face with the gentlest of touches -wiping away his tears, "Never forget that."

"Y/N-"

"Rick," you answered with just as much authority, determined to make him pay attention, "-I have to go, just promise me-"

"But I love you."

You absorbed those words, your face settling into a complex of emotions -something of affection and frustration and sadness all screwed up together on your face. He felt a pang of guilt then at the tears; if he could just-

"Please let me go," it was barely there like the words were hard to get out, and as Rick looked at you he could tell they truly were, "-please let me go."

He was frozen then, the warmth under his fingertips was fading so quickly -he grasped desperately at you. He couldn't lose you again, he couldn't bare it. Not again, not again-

Yet, you weren't there, the fabric underneath his fingers was now that of thin air. The scratchy pillow under his head wasn't the cushion of the meadow, and your hands weren't cradling his face. Despite the distant warmth he felt there, they never had been. The cell seemed like the loneliest place in the world then.

Quiet darkness was unsettled like nothing had ever happened.

"Rick?" a voice tumbled into the hallway, and for a second he hoped. But it was squashed at the familiar face, Maggie, "I heard you, you were... cryin', is there anything-"

And there in that cell, Rick let out a sob -desperate to just feel anything other than the heaviness that sat there, and yet... he didn't want to lose it. Because it was you, somewhere in the twisted train of thought, you were here.

He couldn't leave you behind.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Seaweed Soup ~ YJN

WORD COUNT: 1.1K 

GENRE: caring boyfriend, sweet, soft, looking after sick reader, established-relationships, 

PAIRING: Jeongin x GN!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

The moment you hadn’t shown up at the dorms Jeongin knew that there was something wrong. It wasn’t like you to miss hanging out with him and the guys and it definitely wasn’t like you to ignore all of his calls and text messages which was what led him to stand in your bedroom and whimper at what he found. Months ago you’d given him a key to your place, since the two of you were dating you thought it was only fitting for him to have a key to your apartment so he could come and go whenever he pleased but up until now he hadn’t used it and he was damn glad he did. After quickly shooting a text to the members he made quick work of running around your apartment, cleaning up tissues from the floor and then getting your clothes in the washing machine. All the while you slept seemingly without knowledge that he was even in the apartment. It wasn’t until you heard the front door being knocked on that you’d even woken up.

“Innie? How-When?” You didn’t even know which question to start with and you rubbed your temples a little. What started out as the small flu was now turning into a huge migraine you weren’t sure you were ever going to manage to quit, even the lights were beginning to hurt your eyes.

“Don’t worry about it. Here,” He sat you down on the sofa, gently pulling the coffee table toward you before placing down a bowl of something on the table. Whatever it was smelled incredible and the steam coming from the bowl signalled to you that it was fresh,

“I asked Minho-Hyung to make us some seaweed soup. I also have rice depending on if your stomach can handle it,” Jeongin explained but you said nothing, you just stared at him in complete awe that he was even here. You’d neglected to mention to him when you were getting sick because you didn’t want to be a bother to him and the guys while they were trying to get on with things at work.

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” You sniffled a little, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe under your eyes where a few tears were beginning to fall. You hadn’t done anything but sleep for the last week and you hated to think about what you could look like right now but in all honesty, you didn’t care. All you cared about was the fact that your boyfriend had shown up and decided to not only take care of you but also of your apartment. 

When you got sick you neglected everything around you, deciding to crash in bed and sleep away the sickness until you were able to move and do everything for yourself again.

“I wanted to. If you told me you were feeling sick I would have been here sooner,” He said with a soft tone, sitting himself down beside you and carefully spooning some of the soup for you and giving it to you. You ate it happily, sighing in contentment at the taste of it. It was the first real food you’d had in days, you’d been solely living off crackers and dry toast to try and suppress the stomach bug you thought you had.

“Eat up, okay? I’m going to run you a bath. I’ll add some bath salts and maybe something to help clear your airways,” Jeongin explained, pressing his lips to your forehead and smiling a little. Your head wasn’t too hot to touch but he was still worried about it being warmer than it should have been.

By the time the bath was finished running, you’d finished two bowls of seaweed soup and had a little rice but stopped as you were feeling pretty full from it all.

“Thank you for doing this, I love you,” You told Jeongin as he took your hand in his and smiled at you. He would have done this sooner if he’d known, he would have been here every day making sure you were taking proper care of yourself. 

“I love you too, baby. You don’t have to thank me for this, it’s what good boyfriends do,” He winks at you a little making you laugh a little before he helped you step into the water in your tub before smiling at you, your head rested against the bath pillow he’d gotten Minho to bring with him and he looked happy with how relaxed you seemed to be. The hot water was doing wonders for the achiness you were feeling all over your body and you had to admit, the steam was unclogging your sinuses too.

“This is heaven,” You mumbled, closing your eyes for a second as Jeongin chuckled to himself, seeing you look so relaxed.

“I’ll be back in a minute, don’t fall asleep in the tub.” He warned you, rushing out of the room and shutting the door behind himself. He knew you’d be soaking for a while so he took this opportunity to strip your bedding and get you some fresh sheets, fresh PJs and some other things to help you sleep better tonight. 

If the warm bath had been heaven you had no idea how to describe what the fresh clothes and bedding felt like to you but you’d completely ascend. 

“Innie,” You whispered, glancing over at him in the chair in the corner of your room. You’d refused to let him share the bed with you while you were sick and he was blatantly refusing to leave you alone so he’d come up with a compromise. He was going to sleep in the recliner in your room so he could watch over you the night and still be there for you in the morning.

“Yes?” He looked at you as he snuggled into the sheets, smiling when he found you staring back at him while wearing one of his hoodies.

“Thank you for doing all of this,” You knew he was probably sick of hearing you thank him but you had no idea what else to do. You’d never had someone look after you like this and it was incredibly bizarre to have someone kind and caring to do this for you.

“You can thank me by getting better, okay? Sleep.” You nodded, clutching the sheets into your chest and closing your eyes. Even though you’d slept a lot throughout your flu you knew you could sleep more. It was something you did whenever you were sick, just sleep it away.

When you were finally feeling better you had gone to the dorms again, joining the rest of the guys for a nice home-cooked meal as well as a gaming night. 

“Love you,” Jeongin whispered, kissing your cheek softly before placing down a plus-four and smirking as you stared back at him in complete horror. The nice and caring boyfriend you’d had just days prior was gone and replaced with an evil clone that was beating you all at Uno.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @illicee @army24--7 @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @halesandy​ @aerastus​ @lost-leopard-beanie​ @laylasbunbunny​ @critssq​ @pearlygraysky​ @lenfilms​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @meowmeowisdaname​ @imafivestarkpopstan​ @jeonginshaelmoni 

[sporco-filth]

Slob City - Part 7 (epilogue)

I think I said this would be a short chapter but it's actually about the normal length.

I won't bother giving it a synopsis because it's kind of obvious the moment it starts if you read part 1.

Anyway, this is The End of the story. Sorry for everyone who liked it (and it seems like a lot of you did) but I need to end it. I might return to tell stories about Lee in Slob City and I'm sure I'll re-use the location for other stories in future (and not just the slob superhero one), but for now I want to work on some other stories and ideas.

This epilogue was set to happen pretty much from the very start. In some ways though I prefer the previous part's ending but I had this idea and since people love the story so much I felt it was worth adding one little bit more.

Kevin pulled up his car outside the apartment complex. He checked the address in the letter and looked up at the decrepit building. "I guess this must be the place," he said, opening the door. He coughed violently as a wave of foul air engulfed him. "Gah! It stinks!" he covered his mouth with his sleeve in a vain attempt to shield his lungs from the miasma. "Do people pee on the streets here? It smells like a sewerage treatment plant." He kicked a trash bag out of his way, causing it too tear and spill its contents all over the footpath. "And why is there so much garbage everywhere?" he muttered, trying to shake off a ice cream wrapper that had gotten stuck to the sole of his shoe. "They sure weren't lying when they called it 'Slob City'."

He pushed open the doors and entered. The lobby was not much better than the streets outside, but at least the air was a little less smoggy. The only person in the room was a woman asleep at the desk. "Ah, excuse me," he said, ringing the bell. He instantly regretted it: there was something sticky on it and wiping it on the counter just made things worse. The woman opened one eye. "Hmf?" "I'm here to visit someone here in the building," he explained. "Lee Nguyen, I believe he lives in room 13?" "Maybe? Who do you think I am? His mother? How should I know?" "Ah, OK…" Kevin cleared his throat. "Can you tell me which way to the room?" "It's the first floor, kid. Just take the elevator." Before Kevin could ask any more questions, she was already snoring again. Not wanting to further incur her wrath, Kevin went to the elevator and took it up to the next floor. He was surprised by how well-made it looked given the rest of the building's poor state. "Given the size of the people I saw in the street," he mused. "I guess it'd need to be pretty strong to hold all that weight."

Before long, he found Lee's room. He knocked on the door. A voice called out. "Come in!" Kevin pushed the door open. "Hello, Mr Nguyen? Is that you?" He heard the sound of movement on the couch. "Yeah, that's me. You the new transfer?" "Yes, Kevin Sloan," he went towards the voice. "So, you must be my new manager then." "Yep, I sure I am." With effort, Lee hauled himself up from the couch, brushing off the crumbs and wrappers that coated his belly. He rose to his feet, stuck a hand down the front of his underpants and started to scratch. Kevin was unable to hide the shock and disgust on his face at the sight if the slob before him. He was dressed in only a filthy pair of underpants and a T-shirt that looked like it was at least five sizes too small and which seemed to have been torn. I bet that massive gut was the culprit, he thought, eyeing the billowing folds of flab that spilled out over his waistband. I mean, he looks like he swallowed a watermelon. Kevin eyed the junk food packaging and fast food boxes that littered the room. Although, by the way things look I would imagine he hasn't eaten a piece of fruit in years. Kevin shook the thoughts from his mind and plastered a smile on his face. "It's a pleasure to meet you sir." Lee smiled. "Please, just call me Lee." He took his hand from his pants and held it out. "It's a pleasure to meet you too." Kevin looked at the hand and felt a shudder of dread at what germs might be lurking on that grubby paw, but not wanting to be rude, he took it and gave it a shake. He could feel the sweat from Lee's crotch on it and did his best not to look like he wanted to wash it immediately. "I'm sorry to impose, but do you mind telling me where your bathroom is? It was a long drive and, you know…" "You need to piss?" Lee nodded. "Just down the hall and on your right." Kevin was a bit taken aback by Lee's vulgarity but followed his directions. He opened the door and wrinkled his nose at the strong sulphurous odour that greeted him. "Ah, Lee?" he called back behind him. "Is your sink in a separate room?" "Sink? What for?" "To wash my hands after I use the toilet." "Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot that's a thing people do. Yeah, sorry there's only the kitchen sink. It's like that in every house here." Kevin puzzled over this as he quickly peed in the cesspit that was Lee's toilet. He would have flushed, but the toilet seemed to be so full already he was afraid flushing might cause it to overflow and anyway, the less gross things he had to touch the better.

He went to the kitchen and turned on the tap marked 'C'. A black liquid rushed out. "Ugh! Lee!" He yelled. "It looks like there's something wrong with your plumbing!" Lee sighed. "Did they accidentally use Diet Coke again? I paid for those calories with my taxes." He went over and took a sip of the water, much to Kevin's disgust. "Nope, normal Coke." "wait, Coke?" Kevin took a sniff of the black liquid. Yep, it smelt like Coca Cola. Confused, he turned on the other tap and a clear liquid came out. He smiled. At least one of the taps was normal. He went to wash his hands but was surprised by the odd sensation. "Why do my hands feel so sticky?" he wondered aloud. He smelt them. "Is this… lemonade?" Lee smiled. "Yeah, it took a while, but we managed to petition the government to replace the all the Pepsi pipes with Sprite. I mean, who drinks Pepsi?" Kevin closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. "Wait, so there's no running water?" "There's water in the toilet." "No drinkable water?" "No, but we have soft drinks to the tap." "I see." He sighed and shook his head. "I see…" "Hey," Lee put an arm around Kevin's shoulders. Kevin scrunched his nose in displeasure at the smell of Lee's rancid breath. "I know what it's like to move here. I used to be just like you." Kevin's eyes widened in bafflement. "You?" Lee chuckled. "Yep, and I thought I'd hate it here. But…" "But what?" "Well, this place kind of rubs off on you, ya know?" "I'm afraid I don't." Lee smiled. "Yeah, I didn't either back then." He grabbed a dirty glass from the sink, filled it with Sprite and drank it. "Ah… BURP," he belched in Kevin's face. "Give it a week," he continued, not even registering Kevin's grimace of disgust, let alone excusing himself. "I promise you'll realise how good the slob life is." Kevin didn't know what to say to this, but luckily he didn't have to: the doorbell rang at that moment and another slovenly-dressed and obese man walked in. "Hey Lee," he said. He noticed Kevin. "This a friend of yours Lee?" Lee shook his head. "This is Kevin, he's moving here for work and I'm his new manager. Kevin, Bob. Bob, Kevin." "Nice to meet you, Bob." Kevin said. "Same," he smiled. "Did Lee tell you how…?" "How he used to be just like me? Yeah." Bob patted Lee on the back. "And now look at him: a true Slob City slob to the core." He shook his shoulder and smiled at him. "I couldn't be prouder." He looked at Kevin. "I fully trust he'll give you a proper instruction on the slob way of life." "Thanks," Kevin said, not looking at all grateful. "But I don't think I'll be changing my lifestyle that easily." Bob and Lee shared a knowing look but said nothing. "Oh, I meant to ask, what are my roles and responsibilities? And do I need to liaise with any senior staff? I'm sorry to bombard you with questions, would it be better if we scheduled a meeting for this?" Lee and Bob laughed. "Ah, kid," Lee smiled. "You've got no idea what you're in for."

[captain-kraken]

blue blood excerpt (1984)

Viter was sat in front of the mirror, his head in his hands. His long silver hair was straggled and all over the place, as though he had been dragged through a bush backwards. Hair pins were scattered around him and there was a snapped comb in the middle of the floor.

            “What’s wrong?”

            “It keeps falling down.”

Mahrias knew the frustration. Sahrav had been the one who’d taught him how to do his own hair. Now it was second nature to make sure it was tied so tightly it would never fall below his shoulders. Viter’s was reaching the point where it was too long to remain down, as he’d always worn it.

He looked at Viter’s eyes, ringed with red. It was times like this he really hated their parents. They were the ones who were supposed to help them navigate this life they were born into, rather than leave them to figure things out solely by themselves.

It had been easy for Sahrav. They'd done that for him.

Viter sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. “Can… Can you help me?”

Mahrias smiled. “Of course I can.”

He picked up a brush from the side and began to gently brush the knots out of Viter’s hair. It was funny how he’d never really thought about this tradition until he had to teach someone else.

His own light silver locks now reached half-way down his back, although it was rarely left that way. He was never alone unless he was asleep and was therefore forced to wear it up for most of the day.

It usually required fixing frequently – fighting in the courtyard tended to loosen more than just a few strands. The number of times his opponent had dropped their weapon mid-battle in order to cover their eyes was enough to make Mahrias want to cut it all off.

Instead, he relied on one trusty remedy.

He leaned down to Viter, who was still sniffling. “Want me to show you the Kontemno trick?”

Viter nodded, letting out a hiccup.

Mahrias rushed to his room, bringing back a large bottle. He unscrewed the cap, inhaling the musky aroma. It wasn’t the greatest smell but Mahrias had a great fondness for it. He tipped into his hand, creating a pool of thick lilac lotion, before combing it through Viter’s hair.

            “What is this?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at Mahrias in the mirror.

            “A special potion. Got it from this weird shop in the city.”

            “That’s not a Kontemno trick.”

            “Of course it is! I’m a Kontemno and it’s my trick.”

He didn’t tell him that it was Sahrav who had shown him this, in an almost identical situation. Instead he began twisting Viter’s now smooth hair into braids, tying them off with small pieces of ribbon.

            “You make it look so easy.”

Mahrias smiled. “Practice. You’ll be this good one day.”

            “I don’t know about that. I’m not good at anything.”

            “I thought I told you to stop listening to Father. You know he never has anything nice to say.”

            “Maybe because there’s nothing nice to say about me.”

Mahrias stopped what he was doing. “That’s not true, binu. You’re a sweet kid and you always make me feel better. You’d make a better Usa’i than Sahrav ever will.”

            “Will I really be here forever? Like he says?”

            “No.” Mahrias was firm as he continued working on Viter’s hair. “Value be damned, you will find someone who not only will be married to you, but will love you for everything you are. You’re better than this family, Vee.”

[potatothots]

Bitter Man

Genre: Smut

Rating: Explicit 

Pairings: Dark/Mean! Professor! Bucky Barnes x Student! reader

Warnings: Smut, Blow Jobs, mean bucky, dark bucky, dub-con, degrading language

Summary: You go to Professor Barnes in hopes of having him help you with your failing grade in his class.

Note - I'm not your guardian. You read what you want. I can't stop you. If you don't heed the warnings, too bad for you, not me.

I wrote it quick and tried to beta myself. Potatos aren’t the best at editing their own work.

(@jobean12-blog jo-spud, I used your gif. Hope you don't mind! I'll change it if you want me to!)

Professor Barnes peered down his nose at you. His eyes were dark and heavy with lust. Hushed moans and silent sighs poured from his throat as you choked around his cock. 

His dick was huge. Thick, veiny, and angry looking when you took it out of his slacks. Your mouth didn't fit around it initially, but with the pressure of his big hand behind your head you made do. Especially since he refused to let you use your hands. 

You looked up at his blurry image, tears running down your face like small rivers. He ran a thumb against your wet cheeks. A smile graced his beautiful face as he licked at the salty taste. 

"Doing so well for me. Such a good girl." He cooed, hands finding purchase in your hair. 

You had a crush on Professor Barnes since he walked through the classroom doors. His no-nonsense attitude and stern demeanor made you weak in the knees. The gray in his otherwise brown hair also helped. Older men just did something for you. 

So, when he suggested a private session to help with your grade in his atrociously hard class, you agreed. His tone was full of sex and the wink he threw your way made you want to sign up for a hundred sessions with him.

"You suck cock so well. Fuck, 'm gonna cum." 

The blush on his cheeks and the blissful expression on his face made you giddy. You liked seeing his normally bitter features soften because of what you were doing to him. It hurt, but it was worth it to have his attention focused solely on you. Especially with the quiet praises that poured out of his mouth about how much he was enjoying himself. 

It was a few minutes more of sucking and swallowing when his hand grabbed your chin to hold you to him. 

"Swallow it all." His voice took on the harsh tone he used in class. "You fucking spill any of it and I'll dock your grade ten points for every drop."

There was no nodding. You couldn't pull away. You managed to relax your throat some when you started to taste him. It was an explosion of gooey, salty grossness. You'd never liked giving head to completion and this was why. Cum was disgusting to you. 

Your breathing became ragged as you forced it down. A tiny dribble poured out from the corner of your overly stretched mouth. Professor Barnes watched with a cruel smirk. 

He let your chin go so he could drag his finger against your mouth. Catching the cum, he brought it up to his face. 

"I thought you'd be better, but I'll be nice this time. You seemed very scared of my cock." 

"I -" you started, but he cut you off. 

"Hush." His fingers smeared the now cold gunk on your cheek. "I'll only take off five points. But, you did such a good job taking me. You'll need to do a lot more to impress me if you want to pass, but I think you'll get there with more sessions." 

All you could do was look down at the floor and nod. Your work was always handed back with messages complaining in some way how subpar it was. You were overly embarrassed now. You couldn't even suck him off well enough to pass.

"Now go. I've got a lot of work to do and other sessions."

The way he spoke sounded a lot like the suggestive tone he had used on you. Full of promise for something better than a normal teacher-student meeting. 

"Oh," was all you could get out. 

"What, you thought you were the only one?" He let out a sharp, quick laugh. 

You wiped your face on your sleeve. "No, I just…I dunno what I expected." You admitted with a shrug. 

It stung to hear him, to see his amusement at your crushed heart. You scrambled to your feet. You could hear him tuck himself back into his pants while you grabbed your things. Your hand reached for the door handle when you heard him speak.

"Same time next week," he called out. 

You turned to look at him. The sickening taste of him was heavy in your mouth as if his cock was still down your throat. 

"If you're better than this time, you just might pass. Now, go." He waved his hand at you dismissively, looking back to some paperwork on his desk. 

You left his office to find a bathroom. You knew you had to do better, but it was going to be a long few weeks. His taste was as bitter as he was.

[77gigabytes]

Pickpocket {Finnick Odair x Reader}

Pickpocket! Reader x Finnick Odair

So this one's, suuuuuuper short 'cause I just need to get it out of my head.

I might go back and edit it when I get a better picture of it the whole scenario I want.

Also, I was meant to finish this up and the next one, like, 3 or 4 days ago, and post then...but then... I may or may not have gotten addicted to playing Sky: Children of the Light... maybe, just maybe

So I'm thinking...

Somehow, you've ended up as a maid for one of the Capitol families

You've got siblings back home in District 4 and you are their sole caretaker

Your parents passed away due to some sickness maybe?

"Y/N! We're leaving." You hear from the front of the house.

You scurry from the laundry room, wiping your hands on your apron and meet them at the door

"We won't be back until tomorrow night, I trust that you'll take care of the house."

Feet together, hands on top of one another on your stomach, shoulders back, head down.

Like clockwork.

Frankly, you're sick of it and if you succeed tonight, you'll never have to do it again.

You see their feet, and you can tell just from their shoes they're wearing something outrageous again.

"Farewell," You offer, "I'll see to it that everything is in order before your arrival tomorrow."

They hum and are filing out the door, which you gently shut after them.

❖· ────── · ·

You've been to these kinds of parties before.

You've accompanied the family you work for to be at their beck and call.

but this time, you're by yourself, and you have one objective tonight:

meet Finnick Odair, hopefully, seduce him enough to take whatever valuables you can, and then leave

You know how to act - how to blend in and also how to disappear

Though this dress is making it difficult to do anything

it's a deep blue at the bottom and transitions into a beige colour at the top

It's poking in the wrong places, a little too tight at the ribs. Luckily the skirt is flowy

You fiddle with the long mesh sleeves. From the cuffs, it has leaves embroidered all the way up to your collarbones, down your cleavage and to the middle of your torso

You're regretting coming now because you don't see the bronze-haired, green-eyed adonis everyone has been buzzing about, men and women alike.

You huff and make your way to the bar. You give a wave of your hand to the bartender, "Anything will do." you say and he promptly begins to make you a drink.

You sit on the stool, legs crossed and your nose scrunched at the mismatching perfumes suffused in the air

I need to find someone who knows the president... You look around the room but close your eyes quickly and turn back to the bar with how glaringly they dress

If I get an... appointment with, with Finnick for tomorrow morning, I can take whatever valuables and sell them off before they return...

You've stolen before...Food mostly, but when you're in the capitol you've pinched some wallets here and there, some necklaces and bracelets too.

You've already got a few stashed away in your purse.

You sigh, who the hell in here can I talk to?! I can't just bring it up casually.

You totally could, these Capitol people are crazy

As you stew in your thoughts, you close your eyes and your thoughts shift to your siblings. Most of them weren't your siblings by blood, but they might as well be. Poor things, orphaned so young.

"What's a lovely lady like you doing alone, all the way here?"

Your head whips to the voice so quickly you think you might've heard a crack.

Before you, stands Finnick Odair, himself.

BINGO! JACKPOT! Yahtzee! Whatever! What freakin' luck!

But now, it's time to put on a show.

You give him a quick once over, spotting a necklace and ring on his pointer finger

You put on a small smirk and look at him through half-lidded eyes, "And what's a handsome man like yourself doing? Coming over here to a lonely lady like me." You purr and turn your gaze to the various drinks on the shelves of the bar.

He chuckles, "Well," He starts and takes the seat next to you, "I thought that the dress you have on looks a lot like the beach. It's beautiful."

Your eyes flick up to his, not expecting that reply, but you shake your head, I have other things to worry about. Get in and then get out, you remind yourself

"Have you ever been?" He runs his fingers through his curls, "To the beach, I mean."

"Perhaps," you reply without missing a beat.

"How secretive." He sends you a smug smirk.

"We all have secrets, don't we?" You turn to him, switching your crossed legs and drawing attention to them, "And from what I heard," You reach out and fiddle with the smooth fabric of the lapels on his suit, "You like to keep secrets."

You stand up from your seat and take a few steps so that your shoulders brush against his, "And I've got many to tell." you whisper near his ear

It wasn't entirely wrong. Working as a maid for a Capitol family, you've overheard your fair share of secrets.

You found that the Capitol citizens were quite loose-lipped.

But you didn't have much use for those secrets, nor did you have anyone to share them with.

Now you do... if he followed you out, that is.

❖· ────── · ·

I really don't know if I like this one as much, but it was just something that came up in my head when I was writing my Finnick x OC fanfic

I pretty much wrote my OC's entire hunger games, mate,

so, please look forward to that instead haha ≧◡≦, although I'm still in the more final stages of planning to make sure everything correlates so it'll be a loooong while.

Have an amazing day!

Seven, Signing off :3

[erudianokabe]

idk but reiner just strikes me as the type to sing whilst doing the washing up. like he isnt beyonce or anything but every time, he would pick one of the many folk songs he heard/learned growing up and because his voice is so deep, it'd sound so beautiful in a dorian or mixolydian scale T.T

If by doing the washing up, you mean chores where he's getting his hands wet. The dishes, the laundry, maybe even washing the car, etc. I think you're onto something there. Like, in my honest opinion, Reiner's the type to be gung-ho about doing something, but tends to get easily shy or embarrassed. Specially if he feels that it's something a little closer to his heart.

So I do think that when it comes to singing, if there's too many people around and he's doing the washing up, he's gonna be keeping his lips shut. Maybe if he can't hold it in, he'll hum it out a bit in his head, and start tapping his foot to this internal song. However, if you leave him alone to his end of the chores, you may just find him singing a little tune. Hums reverberating from his throat, until it turns into a full on song. He'll probably start with something that he knows. From a folk song that he remembers his mother singing, to something a little more recent that he's heard on the radio just a couple of times to remember bits and pieces of the lyrics, but never the title.

"I'm gonna take you on a trip so far from here— dum dara da—" Sleeves all rolled up, as he bobs his head up and down, eyes closed losing himself in the song. He's just finished washing the last of the plates and was simply wiping them dry. "I've got two tickets to paradise, won't you pack your bags, dum dara dum dum—" And with that, the last set of dishes were done: spotless and resting neatly upon its rack. Reiner would snap his fingers to the tune of his own beat, enjoying the moment which he thought was solely his.

Unbeknownst to him, you were there, leaning on the door frame and just watching silently. You were in charge of putting out the trash today, so you did. Never did you imagine, however, that you'd be treated to this kind of show. It was as if he didn't have any inhibitions, enjoying himself and even looking pretty smug (yet content) about it.

Sadly, all that came to a stop when your uncooperative throat decided it wanted some attention. So, you begrudgingly cleared it, causing Reiner to stop, his glance thrown over his shoulder only to see you there. Instantly he gets flustered; the red on his cheeks weren't too prominent but he did scratch the back of his neck, showing that he was quite embarrassed. For a moment, his eyes darted to the side, not very willing to look in your direction. "How long have you been there?" He pressed his indexes together in hopes that you had a favorable answer.

"I'm gonna take you on a trip—"

"Not a word to anyone, do you hear me?" You were cut off by the guy who was now marching towards your location. "You're not going to say anything to anyone about this, right?"

And to put his mind at ease, you just moved as if you were zipping your mouth shut.

Not a word to any soul.

[anyoneseenadam]

ok this might sound weird cause i don’t request smut much ahah! (azriel x reader mates)

but basically can you do one where the reader doesn’t let anyone eat her our cause she’s always had bad experiences so she never let az do it but one day she does and loves it??

if it makes you uncomfortable that’s ok!! no worries if you can’t! tysm if you do though :)

Pairing: Azriel x reader (acotar)

Warnings: smut man, it’s just smut, pussy eating (I can’t spell the proper word 😭) and a smidge of angst but it’s resolved pretty quickly

A/n: I have not proof read this so apologies about that also please comment or reblog and lemme know what you think cause it gives me so much motivations and that means you’ll get more az content 😌 love you all, hope you enjoy!!!

——————————————————————————

When he first tried he just thought that you were tired. You had been kissing while lying on your bed with his hand up your skirt, smiling into your mouth as he pumped his fingers in and out of you slowly - his thumb rubbing right circles on your clit.

He pulled away from your mouth and sat up, removing you dress gently and taking his time to trace your body. He started kissing along your neck again, moving down your body and pressing kisses to your breasts, waist, hips - before settling between your legs. But as soon as he pressed his first kiss into your pussy, you were tugging him up by his shoulders. Seemingly impatient for him to be inside you.

He protested at first but was quickly swayed when you pushed him onto his back - clambering on top of him and lining yourself up.

He didn’t put too much thought into it after that, both of you too busy for much more than just an occasional quickie for almost a month. But that meant that when he did get you back in a bed, spread out and naked beneath him he was quick to move between your legs - desperate to spend hours feasting on you. He started slowly and you made a noise of protest, tugging his shoulders again - trying to bring him back up to you.

“Cmon baby, I wanna taste you so bad,” he whined, licking a stripe up your clit.

“Azriel don’t,” you whined, face burning with embarrassment - memories surfacing to the forefront of your mind.

“But you’re so pretty,” he whispered with a smile, sucking your clit gently for just a minute before you were pulling away and climbing out of bed.

“I said no!” You exclaimed, anger and frustration building as you pulled the blanket from the bed to cover your body.

“I’m sorry baby, I just thought you’d like it,” he explained, sitting up - eyebrows furrowing.

“Well I don’t,” you could feel frustration tears forming and turned to sit on the bed, pulling an oversized hoodie on and wiping them away with the large sleeves.

You slept on your side that night - facing away from him with you arms tight around yourself while he desperately went over everything he had done and said.

The next morning as he mentally prepared his apology speech - he found you in the kitchen with a cup of steaming coffee and a warm smile. You buried yourself in his arms quickly, grumbling about mornings as you sipped from your mug.

He wanted to ask you about the previous night but when you looked up at him from deep in his embrace with tired eyes and messy hair his words got caught in his throat - and he opted to just kiss you instead.

A few days later he did however. Sitting next to you on the bed and holding your hand tightly - he asked you.

Your face changed when he did, eyes flickering away from him as you stumbled about excuses. He stopped you with firm hands grasping your cheeks - making you look him in the eye, imploring you to tell him the truth with just a look.

“It’s just - my last boyfriend wasn’t very nice about it and the last time he did it he said,” you paused, looking anywhere except his eyes.

“Baby you can tell me anything you know that,” his eyes shone with love as he spoke and you smiled softly, letting out a bitter laugh.

“It was dumb and I’m pretty sure he was just trying to hurt me but he said - he said I tasted bad.” Azriel frowned, wondering why any man who was lucky enough to have you by his side, would say such a thing.

Never had he felt happier he had stolen you away from that mans side, the bond making the two of you blind in love - and giving you the push you needed to dump the trash you called your boyfriend.

“That bastard,” Azriel swore and you nodded, clenching your jaw as you remembered his words.

“Yup,” you said, letting Azriel release your face from his grip as he breathed deeply to calm his anger.

“Baby, we’re not letting him take anything from us - please let me try, I promise it’ll be good for you. I swear on our bond I’ll do everything to make it perfect.”

“Azriel I don’t know…”

“Please baby, that guy was an asshole - I’m your mate,” you rolled your eyes at his begging, but relented with a smile.

“But if I tell you to stop, you stop alright,” he rolled on top of you with a wide smile.

“Always darling.” He grinned as he moved down your body, pulling your shorts and panties down as he moved - settling between your legs. He started slow, careful not to overwhelm you, pressing gentle kisses onto your inner thighs while maintaining eye contact.

When you didn’t push him away he moved a hand to part your folds gently and licked from your tight hole to your clit - closing his eyes and groaning as he did.

“What, is it bad? You can stop,” you moved to pull away, heating up with embarrassment when Azriel all but dove back in. He ate you out like it was his sole purpose in life, moaning as he drank your juices. You slowly started to relax slightly - whimpering occasionally when he sucked just right on your clit, the bundle of nerves throbbing whenever he moved away.

“Fuck that feels good,” you moaned out, one hand moving to tangle in his hair and tugging gently in approval.

“Told you so,” he replied, muffled as he refused to take a break. He was barely even breathing - the need to please you overtaking any other need his body had.

“Yeah yeah you can gloat later,” you huffed, squealing when he pulled your hips impossibly closer as he pushed his tongue deep into you.

He pumped it slowly, taking the time to massage your inner walls as he brought a hand up to rub circles on your clit. Your pussy clenching around his tongue signalling your release was coming soon.

He smiled against you, pulling back to draw in a breath, only to dive back in with renewed vigour. He opened his mouth wide enough to cover your whole pussy, hot breath making you swear lowly before he pushed two fingers into you - pressing the pads of his fingers into the spot that always made you see stars while sucking harshly on your clit. You came within seconds, tugging his hair harshly as your back arched off the bed.

However, your orgasm didn’t deter him and he continued his ministrations - twisting and pumping his fingers while flicking his tongue on your clit making you see stars as you became so overstimulated you couldn’t even form a coherent word.

He continued lapping at you until you had cum thrice more and had to physically tug him off your pussy - his lips pouty and wet as he tried to latch back onto you. You finally tugged him back to eye level and kissed him softly, tasting yourself on his lips.

“How was that baby?” He asked, eyes sparkling as he took in your tired form. You laughed under you breath - chest heaving as you ran a hand over his cheekbone.

“So, so good Azriel. Thank you my love,” you said, revelling in his wide smile, “but I’m afraid I might need a break before we move because I don’t think I’ll be walking for at least a week.”

Azriel laughed lowly and you grinned as he moved to pull you into his arms, wings surrounding you as you rested on his chest.

“Eh I’ve done better, I’m aiming for a month.” He pinched your side and you smacked him gently on the chest.

“Don’t you dare I have shit to do,” you laughed and he kissed your forehead.

“Yeah, me.”

[apparentlyaswarmofbees]

EVEN MORE Small Things to Imagine With The Brothers and Undatables

.

Because I got in a good mood after listening to 'My Narrow Road' from Ito Kashitaro. I recomend! it’s good!

.

Lucifer

The way he squints challengely at you when you spot a single paper plane on the corner of his office that looks suspisciously like a document.

The ultimate betrayal as he nudges the back of your knees with his own consequently making you almost lose balance.

The concentrated furrow of his brows upon his closed eyes as he tests the sounds of an old violin, big eyelashes slowly fluttering open as he gives a satisfied smile.

Present him a plushie and enjoy the sight as he takes a final look at his documents and any lost messages before going to bed, all the while keeping said plushie confortably sitting on his leg, his fingers absentmindely rubbing the soft texture every once in a while

.

Mammon

The casualness as you fix each other's clothes and accessories, your hands unwrinkling his collar, his fiddling with your own. Expect to have any long sleeves you wear suddenly be folded up whenever you guys sit near each other.

The teasing peek of skin from his belly and hips as his shirt rolls up just enough when he stretches his arms up with a very long, and slightly exagerated, yawn.

Having him laying on his arms on your middle, the adorable scrunch of his face, rubbing it on his arms as he tries to wipe off the growing smile on his lips when you give his nose an affectionate and gentle pinch.

Peeking from behind a tree and having him chase you around in circles until either of you decide to just to grab onto the other forcefully.

.

Leviathan

Tying his bangs in a cute little ponytail on the top of his head and watching as he refuses to undo it with pride for the entire day if the tie used was Ruri-Chan themed.

Making voices with him in front of a fan on a hot day, and watching as he starts to make more and more different voices and references the more confortable he gets.

Watching as Henry follows his owner's movements as he wanders back and forth in front of the big aquarium in a rant.

Hugging him close and playing with his hair as he burries his entire face on your shoulder and squeezing you closer with his arms each passing minute until he finally relaxes.

.

Satan

Challenging each other to read the most ridiculous crack fics in the most dramatic poet voice manageable and watching as he struggles to keep his composure.

The ridiculously serious and concentrated frown on his face as he tries to make a perfect ketchup cat on the top of an omelette and the ridiculously cute proud smirk on his lips as his eyes shine brightly at his successfull creation.

Talking to him about a show he has already watched and the undoubtedly excited fidgeding of his body as he struggles both to not spoil you of anything and to not give you omnious comments about what you should expect next.

Alternativelly, his coninuous gaze as he tries to read into every single detail on your facial expressions in a curious attempt to see if it gives out what he should expect to happen next on a show you have watched and recomended to him.

.

Asmodeus

The sight of him humming along to a tune with an absentminded smile as he paints his toe nails. There are clips in his hair to keep his bangs away from his eyes, toe separators on his feet and definetelly a few stains on his hands.

The way he looks in your direction with a wrigling brow as he flips his scarf dramatically over his shoulder in front of a store's one sided mirror.

Sharing a candied apple and watching as he smiles, small pieces of candy still stuck on and off his lips, giddy at both the idea of sharing it with you and the sweet taste of the lovely treat.

The happy twirl he gives as he shows off to you the new outfit he bought, clapping excitedly after having you do the same to him, possibly with the help of his own hand, spinning you smoothly almost like in a dance.

.

Beelzebub

Kissing the very tip of his nose and watching as the corners of his mouth squishes his reddening cheeks as he smiles so hard to the point he may not even be able to keep his eyes open anymore.

The almost bratty but adorable pout he gives when you deny him a sample of the still in process of making food before he proceeds to basically glue himself to your back, his head resting on your shoulders or head, expectant eyes watching as you move.

The sight of his hunk figure crouching down in front of a flower bed, his careful fingers giving the flowers a series soft and gentle nudges and touches, his face devoid of expression as he pays attention to every single detail. He nods, his face now carrying a satisfied smile. They were healthy.

Having him gladly and happily bend his head down to your height as you reach your hands into his hair, giving him a well deserved head pat.

.

Belphegor

Hanging up a blanket on top of a very throughly organized nest of pillows and stuffed animals in the dark, snuggling to him shoulder to shoulder, a flashlight in one hand, Grimm Fairy Tales on the other.

Watching as he succumbs himself to the rule of kittens as he lays down on the floor, giving a free pass for the small felines to climb and snuggle into his face, neck and body all they wanted.

Whispering ridiculous things right into each other's ears in an attempt to make the other laugh out loud in the worst places and situations.

Curling with him under a big blanket on a cold day, each with their own mug of hot chocolate. The adorable sight of a very obvious cream moustache that has made it's place on the sleepy demon's face.

.

Solomon

Taking Use of the closeness of your boddies while cuddling as an opportunity to tickle the hell out of him and watching as he struggles to decide if he should focus on getting out of your betraying hold or if he should keep on blocking your wriggling hands that keep reaching for his most sensitive spots.

Going on a small trip to the human world and somehow ending the day laughing your hearts out as you ride a two seats bike, that came equipped with two very nostalgic bells, together.

Sitting together with your backs touching, the immortal sorcerer closing his eyes, you being able to feel his every breath as he inhales and exhales, his body relaxing and melting into your presence alone.

Taking part of his shenanigans in the kitchen, feeding each other surprisingly edible samples, a happy smile never once leaving his face.

.

Simeon

Having your feet on top of his or his on top of yours as you both give in an attempt at slow dancing, his chuckles reverberating between your touching bodies, the vibrations leaving behind a small and giddy tingle on your skin.

Having him sit on the floor in front of you, your fingers combing through his dark hair and his body becoming more and more slouched as you attempt to style the silky strands into a braid.

Hands linked in the air for balance as each of you walk alongside an abandoned rail trail together, both of you aware, almost sheepishly, of how cheesy said action in fact was.

Sitting side by side on top of a tree branch, his fingers softly holding onto yours as both of you gaze into the distance, a gentle breeze swaying your clothes as the two of you enjoy a moment of confortable silence.

.

Diavolo

Teaching him various types dances and styles, his beautiful laugh echoing through the walls as he both succeeds and fumbles in his gestures, bright eyes attently paying attention and mimicking your every movement.

Going to the carnival together, watching as the prince of hell almost bounces on his feet from attraction to attraction, all the while while wearing a cute animal eared headband he completelly refused to take off until he stepped inside his own castle.

Introducing him to the human world "magicians", his face morphing through a chain of expressions as he watches in wonderous amazement tricks ranging from simple card tricks to making things desappear, reapear and multiply.

Kissing each other all over the face, little smoochy noises getting mixed with a fit of giggles as both of you were set on not leaving a single patch of skin unkissed, even thought the two of you were now smiling too hard to even do it properly.

.

Barbatos

Introducing him to fruit carving and watching as it slowly becomes like a new hobby for him. The buttler's posture and face turning into something almost fondly relaxed as he skillfully turns various types of fruits into beautiful shapes of objects, animals and flowers.

Giving each other an almost smirk like smile as you Link your arms together, the two of you bringing your respective glasses to your lips before drinking from the liquid at the same time.

Convincing him to try out scented candles, watching as he judges each option throughly, his expressions going through slight, almost unseen changes as he closes his eyes momentarily so he focuses solely on his senses of smell.

Gloved protective hands craddling your head onto his shoulder and firmly holding onto your back, the flicker of an almost sorrowfull expression threatening to break through his usual deadpan demanor gone unseen as he, strangely, hopes for his presence to be of enough confort.