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zepskies · 16 days ago

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Lost Time

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Russell takes longer than usual on a job out of town, you realize how hard it is to live half a life with him.

AN: I’ve been wanting to get to this for a while now! Here’s a sequel story in the Every Second Counts world. Also, this is one of my entries for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

Word Count: 4.9K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff upon fluff, implied smut, mild spice.~ **DOES NOT contain spoilers for 2x02. This was written long before the new episode came out. But look out for the little announcement at the end. Some (smutty) bonus content on the way!

💜 Series Masterlist || Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Wolfing down lunch alone in your office usually meant you wouldn’t be disturbed. That distraction tended to come in the form of either Dr. Goldstein, History Department Chair (AKA: your boss), or Chris Belmont.

The latter was a language arts professor who liked to pop in on you when you were alone in the teacher’s lounge, often trying to revive yourself with a cup of Keurig coffee. Or he’d sit down next to you (uninvited) and talk your ear off.

Today, however, you made time for your brother between bites of your admittedly sad ham sandwich. You held the phone to your ear while you ate and tried to resist the urge to answer emails. This was the first month that he’d gotten phone privileges. You wanted to give him your undivided attention.

Not to mention, you genuinely wanted to know how Charlie was doing in rehab. He told you that his leg was healing up well after the surgery to repair the damage from Eddie Mendez’s bullet. Charlie was also getting put through his paces in the substance rehabilitation program, but he sounded truly sober. He sounded like himself.

“I finally get visitors this weekend,” he said. “Dave and Manny are coming by.”

“Dave and Manny. They sound familiar,” you said, tapping your chin with a pen out of habit, even though you weren’t writing anything down. You brightened with recognition. “Oh! Didn’t they serve with you?”

“Yeah, they were in my unit on the first go-round,” Charlie said, with a tone of fondness that you recognized. You remembered now. Those guys were like his brothers during his first tour of Iraq. He’d come home for a few months afterward, changed. You saw it behind his eyes.

And then the second tour. That was what almost killed his spirit.

“It’s good that you guys reconnected,” you said. A smile graced your lips. Charlie needed all the support and familiarity he could get, and coming from his brothers in the Air Force, it was all you could ask for really. “You got time to see your little sister?”

“Ha. Younger maybe. Definitely not little.”

“Whatever, gimpy,” you teased. He’d told you that he hated his crutches, made him feel like an old, one-legged pirate.

“I think I can pencil you in,” he said. There was good humor in his voice. “How about the Mountain Man? How’s he doing?”

Your smile dimmed. You twiddled your pen between your fingers. “He’s…good. He’s on a job right now, so I don’t think he’ll make it back in time for this weekend. But I’m sure he’d wish you well. He asks about you every time he comes home.”

“Oh, yeah? How long’s he been gone for this time?”

Your lips pursed. “Couple weeks.”

Three, and counting.

“But he’s supposed to get back next week.”

“Have you heard from him?” Charlie asked.

“Here and there,” you replied, leaning to one side of your desk chair. “He’s not really supposed to contact anyone when he’s on a job.”

“Mhmm.”

“Charlie,” you warned. You knew what he was thinking, even by that placid tone of his voice. Your brother sighed on the line.

“Look, I like Russell. What can I say, after what he did for you? For me,” Charlie said. “But…I don’t have to like what he does, or what it’s doing to you.”

Your teeth clenched, but you tried not to bristle. You knew he was just looking out for you, for once like an older brother should.

“I know what you’re saying, but we’re good. I’m good,” you said. “I knew what I was getting into…”

You saw Dr. Goldstein peek into the narrow, rectangular window in the middle of your office door. He gave you a little wave through the glass.

“Hey, Charlie, I’m sorry but I need to let you go. My boss wants to talk to me,” you said.

Another heavy sigh. “All right, I get it. Evade an unsavory conversation by playing the ‘boss’ card.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. “It’s true! Look, I love you. I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Oh, fine. Evade away… Love you too,” he said begrudgingly, but in the kind of way that told you he was smiling too.

You hung up with him and beckoned Goldstein inside. He let himself in and closed the door behind him before he approached your desk. He didn’t have a stack of essays in his hand, so you counted that as a small blessing. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, however, he dropped a familiar bomb on you.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, sweetheart, but would you mind taking over my 5:00 p.m. class tomorrow? I have to step out early for an appointment,” he said.

You grated internally, for more than one reason. Primarily at the way he once again called you sweetheart. In your whole life, you’d only ever given one man permission to sweetheart you, and it certainly wasn’t Paul Goldstein.

“Well, my schedule is a bit tight tomorrow, but I think I can make that work—”

“Great! Thanks again, sweetheart,” he said, already getting up from the chair across from your desk to head out. Your voice stopped him at the door.

“Ah, you know…” You stood up from your desk. Part of you was hesitant, but the other part of you—the part that had survived nearly being shot and killed in the woods—stood firm. You rounded your desk but left a respectable distance between you and your boss.

“Paul, I would appreciate it if you would just…call me by my name. In a more professional capacity, just like I do for you,” you said. “Sweetheart, honey, that kind of thing just doesn’t make me feel very respected in the workplace.”

Goldstein blinked in surprise. He was taken aback, you could tell, as if what you’d said had never once occurred to him. Or maybe he just never thought you would call him out like that. You saw him mentally calculating though. After some recent sexual harassment allegations in the Sciences department, he likely didn’t want the headache and the red tape of an HR writeup.

“Of course. I’m sorry if I… Well, I hope you know I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said.

“I know, Paul,” you replied. But what you didn’t say was, It’s all right.

The longer you remained quietly poised with your hands laced in front of you, the more Goldstein seemed to get the message. Eventually, he cast his gaze away and left your office with a parting nod.

When the door shut behind him, your shoulders slumped as you let out a deep breath. You grabbed onto his vacated chair to steady yourself, smoothing your hand down the length of your pencil skirt.

“Well, okay then.” You smiled to yourself and grabbed your phone and keys off your desk. That small win deserved an afternoon coffee break.

You ventured over to the faculty break room and started setting up an extra-large mug of coffee from the Keurig. Pumpkin spice, here I come. Finally PSL season.

While you waited for it to percolate, you checked your phone and found no missed notifications, no calls or texts from your boyfriend. Biting the edge of your lip, you gave into the urge to check your text thread with him.

Hey, just checking in. You okay?

That was the last text you sent Russell, a few days ago. The fact that he hadn’t had time to read it worried you.

It had been three weeks since he left town on another job for the Horizon Group. He was able to reply here and there on some jobs, but often you had to deal with days of radio silence in between. This time, it had been a full two weeks since you last spoke to him–a five-minute call after he checked into his hotel, somewhere in Belize.

Despite your attempts otherwise, not a day had gone by where you hadn’t thought about him, worried about him, wondered where he was, and what he was doing.

Even after four months, this arrangement hadn’t gotten easier. Sometimes, it felt like you were living half a life without him.

The coffeemaker chiming briefly broke you out of your melancholy, but you let the coffee sit there and cool while you deliberated with your phone in hand.

You tried to resist, since you didn’t want to bother him…but you ended up sending him another text.

Hey. I don’t want to distract you. Just want you to know…

I miss you.

“Oh, look who’s here.”

You looked up, already wanting to expel a breath of annoyance at the familiar voice. You plastered on a polite smile and turned to see exactly who you expected to see: your colleague Chris. There was really nothing wrong with the French and Spanish professor…except that he talked too much, and was often too eager to get into your business.

“How’s your day going?” he asked. After he grabbed a soda from the fridge, he parked himself in front of you and laid a hand on the counter. With one of the round dining tables so close, it ensured that you would have to squeeze by him in order to leave.

“Pretty good, just have one more class before I head out for the day,” you said. You intended to just make amiable conversation, but you didn’t realize you’d just given him an opening.

“You know, me too. Just my freshman Spanish 1 kids. Dumb as doornails really. They barely even look up when I talk,” he said. “Literally, I could be reciting Mein Kampf and they wouldn’t even know I was speaking German.”

You couldn’t quite smile. You opened your mouth to reply, but he beat you to it.

“Hey, since we’re going to be clocking out soon, maybe you want to go for a drink with me. I know this bar. A little rough, but the price is right and the food’s not bad. This place called Howley’s,” he said.

Your non-smile dropped further. You really didn’t know where to start on this one.

“Ah, well—” you began, but again, he cut you off.

“To be honest, I’ve kind of been meaning to ask you for a while. I just uh, haven’t been able to find the right time. Since, you know, our class schedules don’t seem to match,” he added with a boyish smile.

He was cute, you could admit, with the dirty blonde hair down to his ears and the dark brown eyes. But it didn’t shake your resolve.

“Look, Chris. I’m sorry, but—”

“Is because we work together?” he said, once again interrupting you. “The whole workplace relationship thing?”

��No,” you said. It was sharper than you meant through your annoyance. “I actually have a boyfriend.”

Chris’s excited-nervous energy gradually deflated, his eyes dimming.

“Really? I’ve never seen you with anyone,” he said.

You quirked a brow at him. “Well, he doesn’t work here, so he wouldn’t really need to come to campus.”

You didn’t tell him that Russell was Dory’s older brother, and had in fact been on campus a couple of times. You shouldn’t have needed to explain it.

Chris gave you a wry look. “Sure. You really have a boyfriend, or are you just trying to let me down easy?”

You almost gaped at the man’s audacity. Instead, your lips pressed together, and your head tilted as you stared at him incredulously.

“Does it matter?” you asked.

He blinked. “Uh, what?”

“Whatever I say next, are you going to believe it?” You finished dumping in a couple of tiny creamer cups into your likely lukewarm coffee, and you took the styrofoam cup to-go. “Good luck with the freshmen.”

You slid past him and left the teacher’s lounge. Your path took you, brusquely and irritated, back to your office. You couldn’t help but replay every bit of your interactions with Goldstein, and then Chris, in your mind like a bad movie.

Jesus Christ. If I have to deal with one more idiotic man today, I swear—

Speak of the devil, and he appears.

There was a man leaning against your office door, his hands in the pocks of his jeans. He looked up at your approach, and he smiled.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

This time, you paused…and you smiled too. There he was in all his rugged glory. Russell Shaw.

You dumped your coffee in a nearby trashcan and hastened over as quickly as you could in your skirt and heels. Russell bent down to sweep you up into his arms, and you leaned up on your toes so you could wrap yours around his shoulders. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the familiar mix of his cologne and spicy soap.

“Missed you too,” he said, a deep rumble. It washed over you pleasantly.

“I thought you weren’t getting home until sometime next week,” you said, trying to work past the thick well of emotion in your throat. Maybe he heard it in your voice anyway, because Russell soothed a hand over your hair and pressed a kiss near your ear.

“Got finished up early,” he said, with that familiar grin of his. You could hear it in his voice.

You slipped your fingers through his long dark hair. Then you leaned back enough to see his face.

“How’d you know I wasn’t in class?” you asked.

He raised his hand off your back to point up at the sign on your door. It displayed your office hours and the times you were in class. He shot you a wink.

“I might’ve called Dory too,” he said. “She invited us over for dinner tonight. I said we’d be there around seven.”

You tsked and smack his chest, making him flinch.

“Hey!” he protested with a laugh.

“Don’t agree to stuff without me! Now we’re going to be out all night the day you get back,” you said in annoyance.

Russell smoothed down your proverbial feathers, namely by slipping his hands down your back and comfortably settling on your waist.

“Now, come on,” he cajoled. “Need I remind you that she’s my sister, and your best friend, by the way?”

You waved a playfully dismissive hand.

“I know damn well, but I’m also selfish,” you said. You gripped the edges of his familiar green jacket and tugged him closer again. “I want you all to myself tonight.”

Russell’s grin kicked up into high gear. “Oh, yeah? What for?”

You smiled and leaned up on your toes again, your lips approaching his.

“I’m gonna—”

“Hey, Professor!”

Just then, one of your students walked by with a gaggle of her friends. She gave you a little wave, and then an amused look when she noted how you and Russell were intertwined. You quickly set your heels back on the ground and dropped your hands from him.

“Oh shit. Prof’s got game,” one of her friends whispered.

“Yeah, a lumberjack,” she replied.

“Hell, I’d climb him.”

The girls giggled quietly as they continued to make their way down the hall.

Your hand rose to cover your mouth while your face burned hot in embarrassment. Russell, damn him, was smirking like the Cheshire cat. You shot him a little glare.

“Shut up,” you said.

He chuckled, and he allowed you to take his hand and lead him into your office. He closed the door for you, but that was where the chivalry ended.

He hooked his arm around your waist and brought you flush against him. A stunned yelp escaped you. You grabbed onto his arms on reflex, craning your face up to meet him. A smile played on your lips, before he captured them in a kiss filled with heat, and the torture of longing, only broken by your shared relief.

You had the presence of mind to reach behind him and lock the door. Russell took that as an invitation to back you up against your desk, knocking down a carton of pens in his wake. You held his bearded face and gave him as much as he asked for. Until the pace of his kisses eventually slowed and warmed into something more tender, with the brush of his hand against your cheek. You smiled a little against his lips.

He ended up being the first to pull away. His thumb brushed your chin next, and then your thoroughly kissed bottom lip.

“God, I missed you,” he said. You saw the sincerity in his eyes, all the heat and play and teasing aside.

“Me too, baby,” you replied, and your voice was heavy with the truth of it. You slid your hands down his arms. Suddenly you remembered your internal checklist for whenever he came home. “You okay? No hospital stays or checkups needed?”

Your hands continued their perusal over his chest and down his sides. Russell took your hands and un-busied them.

“Completely fine. Everything went off without a hitch,” he said.

You eyed him more warily. After a moment to try and discern if he was downplaying for your sake, you were able to take him at his word. For now. It wouldn’t be the first time he tried to hide an injury from you. You intended to complete a further examination later tonight. You smirked a little at the thought.

“Okay, I’ve just got one more class in a few minutes. Then I can get out of here,” you said.

“All right,” he nodded. “I’ll meet you at home then.”

Your smile turned cheeky. You flattened your palms down his chest, plucking at the edges of his jacket.

“Yeah? You gonna be waiting pretty for me?” you teased.

“You bet,” he agreed. He leaned in close to say lowly in your ear, “But not as pretty as you’re gonna be when I get you all laid out for me. Get myself reacquainted with every sweet part of you.”

“Oh, really?” you said, trying to taper your blush. There was something entirely wrong and right about him talking dirty to you in your own office. You grinned as he began to press tantalizing kisses down your neck. “I guess I’m going to be the appetizer tonight.”

His chuckle resounded in your ears. Russell squeezed your hips and brushed his lips against your skin. Damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing, making small volts of electricity zip down your spine. Warmth plumed between your legs as his beard gently rasped along your neck.

“Sweetheart, you’re the whole damn meal,” he said, in that voice of his, smooth and baritone and perfect.

Your blush intensified, even as your smile couldn’t help but brighten at his words. He nipped just under your ear, earning a stifled whimper from you.

“Are you trying to get us in trouble?” you whispered.

“Hey, I don’t work here,” he teased. His lips never left your skin. “I just reap the benefits.”

You fought against the urge to pinch his side. You grabbed your phone from your desk and checked the time. Shit. Almost 5:00 p.m.

All the while, Russell continued to torture you. His hands were no better than his mouth, caressing a path from your waist to your hips, then squeezing your ass as he pressed you more fully against him. He hummed against your neck.

“Oh, please don’t do this to me,” you whined, even as you clung to the front of his jacket and pressed your forehead into his shoulder. “I have to get to class in like, five minutes.”

“I’ve accomplished quite a lot in five minutes,” Russell said. His nibbling along the shell of your ear was all too distracting as you laughed.

“Oh, I know,” you dryly replied. “But if I let you get your hands on me now, I’m most certainly not going to be able to lecture on the ancient civilization of Mesopotamia.”

His smile grew. “I like it when you talk nerdy to me.”

Your laugh turned into a giggle. Still, your duty to your students won out. You had to press a gentle hand against his chest to push him back.

Russell let out a long-suffering groan, but he pulled away from you without losing his smile. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek.

“I’ll see you at home,” he said.

You agreed, though when he aimed to leave, you couldn’t resist the urge to smack his ass on his way out of your office.

He stopped short and twisted back, pointing a knowing finger at you.

“You don’t play fair, missy,” he said.

You smirked and tossed a kiss at him.

“See you later,” you said.

You loved Dory. You really did. But after a day like today, you were happy to finally be home after dinner at your best friend’s house. You were happy to be where you were in this moment, lying in bed with Russell, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts as Speed played on the TV against the wall.

“You didn’t leave me…I can’t believe it. You didn’t leave me,” you quoted along with Annie, Sandra Bullock’s character.

“Didn’t have anywhere to be just then,” Jack (the beautiful Keanu Reeves) said on the screen. The couple shared a kiss, and you let out a happy hum, making Russell look down on you in bemusement. He had an arm wrapped around you as you laid tucked against his side.

“I have to warn you,” you said for Jack. “I’ve heard relationships based on intense experiences never work.”

“Okay,” Annie (and you) replied. “We’ll have to base it on sex then.”

Jack smiled. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

As the movie came to an end, you sighed and lowered the volume as the credits rolled.

“How’d you like it?” you asked.

“Was good! Even though my movie buddy decided to quote half the cast,” Russell quipped. He prodded at your side like a pianist playing a Mozart cantata, making you flinch with a squawk of laughter. You grabbed his hand to try and stop him.

When he finally let up, you sighed and caught your breath, leaning against him again.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen that movie,” you said. “Practically any movie, for that matter.”

“Hey, I’ve seen stuff…it’s just, you know, we didn’t really have much access to pop culture growing up,” Russell said.

You sobered up; you were reminded that he didn’t have a normal childhood, even less so than yours.

“That’s okay,” you said, resting a comforting hand on his chest. “I’m gonna keep helping you catch up, long as you want me to.”

Russell smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I appreciate that.”

You closed your eyes in content.

“So,” Russell said, interrupting your peace. You heard the mischief in his voice before he even said anything else. “Am I gonna have to knock this Beaufort guy on his ass, or you got that one covered, slugger?”

You huffed in amusement.

“Belmont,” you corrected, opening your eyes again to shoot him a wry glance. “And there won’t be any ass-kicking needed on that one. Just a typical hard-headed man with a slighted ego.”

“Oof, cut him some slack, baby. You’re a hard one to let go of,” Russell teased. You smiled.

“Hey. Don’t butter me up unless you intend to do something about it.”

“Oh, my apologies,” he said. He turned over and waylaid you with kisses along your jaw, then down the column of your throat, and further still, until he met the edge of your shirt. You felt his hands move under the hem of it, slowly bunching up the material as they slid up your body.

Your first coming together when you two got home tonight was fraught, and a bit wild—the kind that nearly broke your headboard (again).

Now, Russell seemed to want to take his time. He guided your shirt up, inch by inch as his lips explored whatever small expanse he bared, from the soft skin of your stomach, to the swell of your breasts. He stopped there, laying a sweet kiss in between them. You watched him with deeper breaths, but you softened when he turned his smile up at you. You saw nothing but affection in his eyes.

“You know, the best part of my day is coming home to you,” he said.

You had to blink past the sting in your eyes, and swallow past another lump of emotion in your throat as you reached down to caress his cheek.

The hardest part of mine is watching you leave.

But you didn’t dare say that. You just guided him back up to your lips, and met him with a heated kiss.

You were nearly asleep when Russell finally came back to bed, after double-checking that the house was all locked up. He installed a more sophisticated security system a few months ago. It made him feel slightly better about leaving you alone.

He padded back over to the bed and joined you on his side. You rested your head on his shoulder again, and he slid an arm around your waist.

“Charlie’s doing well in his program, huh?” Russell asked.

You’d been talking about your brother with him and Dory at dinner.

You nodded. “Looks like it… God, I’m so proud of him. He’s really worked hard.”

Russell hummed deeply. “Glad to hear it.”

You glanced up at him, for a moment admiring his profile. He looked down and met your gaze.

“How long are you going to be home?” you asked, because you couldn’t stop yourself.

When you and Russell first started dating, he tried staying at a motel for a few weeks. You eventually invited him to just stay with you when he was in town. It made it easier to spend more time with him, since you worked a full-time schedule anyway. It was nice to come home to him, when he was here. After the surprise wore off, however, the fear always returned.

When is he leaving next?

“I don’t have another job lined up just yet,” Russell admitted. “Wanna take a couple weeks off, since this one lasted so long. I’m sorry about that.”

You were glad to hear it, so you nodded, but you had a feeling your true thoughts weren’t as well hidden as you intended. Russell searched your face.

“How’re you doing with all this?” he asked.

Your heart seized up, but you tried to play it off.

“What do you mean? We had some good food, good catching up on ‘90s movie magic, good making up for lost time,” you said playfully. You slid your leg across his lap. Russell welcomed you, drawing a hand up your thigh and under his shirt that once again hung loosely from your body. You had to reclaim it from somewhere between the sheets.

He still raised his brows at you. “You know what I mean.”

Slowly, your smile fell. Your gaze lowered.

“Russ, I’m doing my best.”

“I know you are, sweetheart, and I appreciate that. You don’t know how much,” he said, stroking your back. “I just, uh…I know this is hard on you.”

He understood Tracy, Doug’s wife, even better now. He had been better able to sympathize with Doug too, because for the first time in his life, he had someone to come home to. Someone who was actually waiting on him to come home. It was a bigger responsibility than he thought it would be.

You sighed.

“Look, I’m not going to lie, this…it’s been hard as hell,” you began, closing your hand around his. “But I love you. I love you, and I still think we have a good thing here.”

That warmed him, reminded him why this was worth it. Russell nodded in agreement, and he crossed the few inches of distance that allowed him to kiss you, good and slow.

“I love you too,” he admitted. He could count on half a hand the number of times that happened in his life, but even though it hadn’t been all that long…he thought you might be the one that finally stuck.

Your pretty smile was just one piece of evidence. You gave that to him, and you reached up for a kiss. He obliged you in turn.

“How about we put a timeframe on it then,” he said, after parting softly from you.

You tilted your head in confusion, tinged with disbelief. “What?”

“How about you give me…’til the end of the year,” he said. “I know I’ve been taking a lot of jobs lately. It’s because I’m pretty close to my goal. I’ve almost got enough to find some good real estate and start working on that bar.”

Your drowsiness fell away completely as your excitement grew for him.

“Oh my God. Russ, that’s amazing!”

Your support softened him that much more, deepening his smile. He framed your face with a hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“Here’s a promise,” he said. “Six months, and no more missions. No more jobs. You’ll be stuck with me, so much that you’ll probably get sick of me.”

Your smile grew to radiant proportions.

“Hmm, maybe a little,” you teased, “but I’ll make that sacrifice.”

He grinned and drew you into another kiss. You paused, holding his bearded cheek.

“Thank you,” you said. Russell shook his head.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he said. “You never gotta thank me for that.”

AN: Let me know if you enjoyed this little addition to ESC! 💜

Bonus Drabble:

After watching 2x02 yesterday, it gave me...feelings lol. So I ended up writing a new (very smutty) drabble to fill in a small gap in this one-shot! It's called More of This:

Summary: Welcoming Russell home, where he belongs. (18+)

▶️ Keep Reading: More of This

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the-thing-withfeathers · 2 months ago

Text

pushing all the right buttons

a/n: ever since i started writing more & posting, i’ve had sooo much madison muse. so here’s a lil treat of dom!mads. this is also kind of in honor of the encore tour ending, she absolutely killed it this time around & i’m so grateful i got to see her.

pairing: dominant!madison beer x reader

warnings: kinda angsty at first but then smut smut smut, fluff at the end tho!!!! degradation, choking, oral & fingering (r!receiving), cursing, edging, hair-pulling, overstimulation.

summary: after not seeing madison for a bit, you decide to try and get a rise out of her.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

madison had finished touring about a month ago. you had been at her final show and flew straight back home with her. ever since she’s gotten back though, your affection with her has been limited to kisses & cuddles. you wanted more after months of missing her.

at first, you chalked it up to her mainly being exhausted, which was fair enough, she got up on stage every night to perform her pieces of art. you couldn’t blame her for it. but as time went on, you started to wonder if maybe she lost attraction to you. you had to find a way to get that spark back.

you two were invited to a house party, it was hosted by one of your mutual friends as a celebration for everyone being in one place again.

you wanted to look good. not just good but amazing. you wanted her to notice you, to perceive you the way she used to.

you put on a backless cocktail dress that tied up behind your neck. you wore your down but styled it so it would be curled, your make up highlighted all your best features.

as you got ready in seperate rooms for the sake of having more bathroom space, you hadn’t seen what madison was wearing. your breath caught in your throat the second you saw her. she was in a blue sparkly dress, it was showing off everything you found beautiful about her body. you always thought she was captivating, her beauty unmatched. she had gold hoops on and her hair was tied up with a hair stick in it that you bought her when you visited her in japan.

“hey, baby.” she said, smiling at you. “you look great!”

great? that’s all?

“thanks.” you huffed, “you look amazing. i love the hair stick i got you!” you said, trying to lift your mood.

“i realised i haven’t used it properly.” she said, looking at it in the mirror. “thought it was about time.”

“yeah…” you muttered, grabbing your bag. “we should go. we’re already late.” you said, unclasping your purse to put your phone in there.

“alright, wait for me in the car.” she said, nodding and rushing to put the finishing touches on her make up.

“okay…” you simply said, walking down to the car and sitting in the passenger seat to wait for her.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

the car ride was mostly quiet, the radio filling the gaps of silence. you realised she needed to focus on the road so you just used your phone for the drive.

when you both arrived, the party already had a handful of people in attendance. you two walked in and madison was immediately whisked away by her friends that have been waiting to see her when she got back, leaving you to fend for yourself a little bit.

you walked over to the drink table, pouring yourself something into a red solo cup. you feel a hand touch your shoulder.

it’s a girl you hadn’t met properly before but you know she had worked with madison on one of her music videos.

“heyy girl! oh my god, that dress is so pretty! i NEED to know where you got it!” she said, grabbing herself a drink too.

“awh, thank you!” you said. “um… i actually thrifted it. i made altercations to it myself.”

“what?! that’s insane. it looks like it hasn’t been touched at all!” she said, looking at the dress a bit closer. “you’re too talented!”

across the room, you felt eyes burn into the back of your head. you felt yourself to turn to where madison was talking to one of her friends, you two made eye contact. she didn’t look too happy. that wasn’t the reaction you wanted initially, but if it meant she paid some attention to you, maybe you would have to work with what you had.

“you’re too sweet.” you said, turning back to her. “but yeah! i alter a lot of my clothes, it’s just something i learned how to do.”

“that’s crazy. i think i’d just ruin my clothes if i tried.” she laughed, covering her mouth as she did. you laughed with her, it was geniune but you had to sell it. you leaned forward, touching her shoulder. she put a hand on your waist as you two made contact, laughing together still.

you found yourself chatting to this girl— who you found out was named gracie, actually having a decent conversation. you two talked about your jobs, your hobbies, and even a bit about your childhoods before you exchanged instagram handles.

while yes, you were partially using her to make madison jealous, you were excited to make a new friend on your own, at a party where you only knew a handful of people.

the whole time, you felt madison’s eyes on you. she kept glancing at you, a fire in those angry eyes.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

madison felt herself scowl at the two of you. one of her friends, nick, started laughing at her.

“dude, you’re going to wrinkle if you keep doing that.” he chuckled, following her eyeline until he saw what she was looking at.

madison didn’t mean to be distant from you, she didn’t know why she wasn’t giving you the affection you wanted. she kept finding herself having to fulfill obligations from her work. she failed to realise you were needing her just as much.

she was seething seeing another girl give you the attention that she should have been giving to you.

she caught you excusing yourself for a moment and decided to make her move then.

“be right back.” she said, shoving her drink into nick’s chest and practicing stomping towards you.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

you excused yourself from gracie to go find the bathroom. you struggled for a moment to find it before taking a chance and pushing one of the doors open to reveal it. you stepped inside and just as you were about to close the door, madison practically shoved the door open.

“mads— what—“ you were cut off by her hand wrapping around your throat, shoving you against the tile on the wall.

“my sweet girl, you thought you could just flirt with some other bitch and get away with it?” she asked, her sultry voice bouncing off the walls. “were you trying to upset me?”

you clawed at her hand, trying to push it away as tears welled at your eyes. as much as you were struggling to breathe, a part of you was excited to finally get what you wanted. you shook your head in a lie, whimpering softly as her hand pressed harder.

“well you sure as hell did.” she said, pressing kisses to your cheek. “are you a little slut for me? is that what you are? were you just being needy?”

you nodded, trying to gasp for air. as you tried to breathe through it, you felt a wetness pool at your core. you loved when she was gentle with you— but you loved this side of her just as much.

“well, you must be happy cause i’ll give you what you want, baby.” she said, her hand releasing your throat. you quickly inhaled the fresh air coming through the open bathroom window. you coughed a little, the air hitting your dry throat.

she pushed herself against you, straightening your back and her hands immediately found themselves lifting your dress. she turned you around and bent you over the sink.

“needy fucking whore.” she muttered, squatting down to pull your panties to your ankles. “fuck… you’re so wet. you love when i just throw you around, don’t you?”

“mmph… love when you throw me around.” you mumbled, holding onto the edge of the bathroom sink for dear life.

madison’s hand came down to smack your wet cunt then immediately after, started circling your clit with the pad of her thumb. you gripped the sink harder, crying out at the pain from the smack. “fuck!” you wailed out, your body jolting at the sudden contact.

“be quiet, bitch.” she said, sharpness on her tongue. “i wanna fuck you into oblivion, we can’t do that if someone catches us.” she said, smacking your pussy again. “you were being a bad girl…” she said, “this is what you deserve.”

you covered your mouth to prevent yourself from crying out again. you felt her mouth make contact with your wetness, her tongue fucking into your hole while her fingers worked your clit. your head fell down, your cheek against the counter. you were holding back moans but your efforts weren’t enough. you were crying out softly every time her tongue pushed into you, tears starting to fall out of your eyes.

this, paired with your touch-starved delirium, made you build towards an orgasm quickly— it didn’t even take madison a few minutes to get you close to the edge. when madison started to feel you shake, she immediately pulled away.

you sighed softly, realizing that you had been holding your breath in. your body relaxed but suddenly tensed up as madison’s fist bunched your hair up into a ball and she yanked you up, your back to her chest.

“look at yourself.” she ordered, forcing you to look at your red tear-stained cheeks. “so fucking good for me. am i really making you feel that good?” she asked, a smirk forming on her face as she laughed at you— it was embarrassing, she was taunting you. “you did this to yourself by thinking it was okay to let someone else touch you.”

“i’m sorry, mads.” you said, desperately wanting her to finish the job.

“sorry won’t do anything, baby. just let me do what i want to you then we can talk about forgiveness.” she said, her hair coming out of your hair and onto your breasts. she tore your dress open like it was nothing, you gasped at the gesture.

“if you’re so good at altering your clothes, you can put it back together.” she said, your breasts bouncing out of the dress. she moaned seeing them come out, your nipples hardening in the breeze.

her hand found its way around your throat again, applying less pressure than earlier but still enough to restrict your airways a little bit.

“watch me fuck you.” she said, holding your neck in place so you were watching. “watch yourself cum.”

she quickly found your clit again, your legs opening just a little bit more for her. she roughly rubbed at it with her middle finger as she placed her chin on your shoulder. she was watching you too. your hand found itself gripping onto her dress while the other was on the bathroom counter, stabilising yourself. you wanted to make noise but couldn’t get anything out because of her hand wrapped around your airway.

“i can feel you trying to moan, that’s so fucking hot.” she whispered, hot breath against your neck. “so fucking hot, baby.” she said, her finger suddenly entering you. you closed your eyes, the feeling was euphoric.

“hey!” she snapped. “eyes open.” she said, pulling her finger out to smack your ass. you whimpered at the loss of the build-up again, forcing your eyes open as she put her finger back into you.

“that’s it, love. you’re being good now.” she said, affirming you. you found yourself smiling at the sight of the two of you— you’ve been waiting for this for over a month and it’s just as good as you were expecting.

you felt that knot in your stomach start to form again, your grip on madison’s dress getting harder. she pumped her finger in and out of you quickly, her thumb supporting the motion by pressing against your clit. her grip on your throat loosened and you immediately let out a loud moan.

“mads.. mads, i’m gonna cum.” you managed to get out. your legs starting to grow weaker and your eyes starting to roll back into your head. you were seeing stars at this point.

“cum for me like the good whore you are.” she said, inserting another finger into you. “maybe i’ll forgive you then.”

it didn’t take much convincing for you to cum all over her fingers, crying out her name as your hand flew to her hair gripping as the tension in your belly snapped. your legs were shaking as she took her fingers out of you. you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore and fell down onto the floor, your back against the cold marbile bathtub.

“my pretty, pretty girl.” she cooed. your legs were still open so she brought her thumb to your clit again, earning a few jolts from you as you rode out your orgasm.

“you think i’m pretty?” you asked, a small soft smile forming on your face.

“i think you’re the most angelic creature to ever walk this earth.” she said, collecting your juices in her fingers, licking them clean as she pulled away.

“you haven’t made me feel pretty recently…” you pouted, your head reeling from the mind-blowing orgasm you just had. you’re pretty sure you lost control over your words.

“oh my baby… my sweet baby… if i ever do that again, you kill me on the spot.” she said, regretfully. “i’m sorry… let me make it up to you?”

you nodded with a toothy smile, your arms pulling her in for a hug. you were happy to have your girl back.

you two sat for a moment before you found your footing, standing up with madison’s help. you noticed your dress was ripped open still but neither of you had anything to cover you up.

“mads… you tore my dress.” you complained.

“oh! yeah… you may have forgiven me but i haven’t forgiven you.” she giggled. “second part of your punishment! walk back out to our car like that.” she said, turning you around to face the door.

“WHAT?!” you exclaimed.

“everyone’s drunk, they won’t notice a thing. they’ll probably forget about it too!” she defended her decision— which was totally not made just cause she got carried away by accident.

“mads… you can’t be serious.” you whined.

“oh i’m dead serious.” she nodded and slapped your ass.

“now walk, bitch.”

#madison beer #madison beer x reader #madison beer smut #madison beer x reader smut #madison beer x female reader

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beenbaanbuun · 8 months ago

Text

nudes w/ yunho

words - an amount

genre - smut

warnings - nudes, dom!yunho, degredation, finger sucking, masturbation

——————————————————————————

A smirk grew on your face as you read over the text you’d just received from your boyfriend.

‘Can you stop sending me nudes?’

You sat there in your lace underwear set, a wet puddle forming between your thighs as you thought about all the things he’d do to you once he was home. He was very big on punishments, much to your enjoyment. Sometimes, you went out of your way to annoy him, just so you could spend the night under him as he played with your body as if it was his own personal toy.

‘Why?’ You shot back, fingers slowly making their way down to your core. Technically you weren’t supposed to play with yourself without Yunho’s permission, but what he didn't know wouldn’t hurt him. And if he did know? Well, it's not like the consequences would be anything you wouldn’t be more than happy to deal with.

‘I’m at work, Sweetheart.’ Despite his kind words, you knew that he was seething. You could see him when you shut your eyes. Jaw clenched and eyebrow raised as he breathed heavily through flared nostrils. Just thinking about his anger made another wave of desire surge through you. As you trailed your fingers around the edge of your panties, you couldn’t help but notice another gush of slick coming from your twitching hole. God, you couldn't wait for Yunho to get home.

‘I just wanted to show you my new panties.’

Your fingers made their way beneath the soft material and your breath hitched as your fingers caught on your clit. A breathy moan made its way up your throat as you toyed with the little nub for a moment or two, gently rubbing circles before pinching it lightly. You imagined it was Yunho, but your hand felt completely different to his. It was smaller for a start, and you could never play with yourself in the same way he did. He could make you squirm in a way you didnt even think was possible.

If making you cum was an art, your boyfriend had mastered it. You, on the other hand, were still learning, and bringing yourself to the edge was much harder than he made it seem. Even on those nights that he simply refused to touch you, inspecting you carefully from across the room with a smug smirk, it was so much easier for you to cum. At least then there was a firm voice instructing you where to move your fingers, whether to add more or less pressure, and exactly when to do so. Now, you felt lost. Without the presence of Yunho, there was no hope for you.

The initial pleasure soon dissipated and in its place came disappointment. You were just aimlessly touching your clit now, a frown present on your face as you pleaded with whoever was up there that Yunho would come home from work early. You were certain that all you needed to cum was a firm hand and a deep voice to push you to your limits.

Yet even with your lack of ability to push yourself to the edge, it wasn't until your phone chimed that you actually removed your fingers from your panties. You brought them up to your face, carefully studying the way they shimmered with your slick. You spread your middle and your index fingers, watching as your arousal stretched between them like a spider's web on a dewy summer’s morning. It was pretty, in some sort of weird, erotic way, and you couldn’t help but admire it. Not for long though, a thought suddenly striking you and pulling you from your trance; Yunho would make you lick them clean.

That’s all it took for you to guide them to your awaiting mouth. You pushed them to the back of your throat, almost gagging on them before you closed your lips around them. It didn't taste particularly exciting - you were all too familiar with the taste of yourself by now- but it reminded you of your boyfriend nonetheless. Of all the times he’d choked you with his long fingers after pulling them from your creamy hole. So with a smile on your face, you circled your tongue around your fingers, sucking all of your slick off of them.

As you did so, you lifted your phone up to your face, and read the latest message from Yunho.

‘You don’t know what you’ve got yourself into, Sweetheart.’ You had to grin because yes, you did. In fact, it was the knowledge of what he may do to you that led you to orchestrate this whole situation. You wanted Yunho to dominate you, and you wanted it bad. The lack of power as he controlled your mind, body and soul tempted you like nothing else. The way he can so easily seize control of you, reducing you down to nothing but his puppet was something you desired to no end. It was as peaceful as it was exciting, hushing your mind until there was nothing left but him.

So yes, you knew exactly what you got yourself into.

‘Hurry back before I cause any more trouble.’ It took you a while to type it out with only your non-dominant hand, but Yunho waited for your reply anyway. The moment it sent, you spotted the three little dots that let you know he was typing. It felt good to know that you had him wrapped around your little finger, just like he had you.

‘Already on my way.’

The words popped up onto your screen and you grinned, knowing that he’d soon be there to take care of you. You turned your phone face down on the bed and closed your eyes, simply letting yourself relax into the buzz of excitement that flowed through your body.

———

It took Yunho a little over 30 minutes to get home, by which time, you'd fallen asleep. It was no secret that over the years you spent with your boyfriend, you'd developed a little bit of an oral fixation, specifically when it came to his hands. Having his fingers pressed to your tongue always seemed to put you even deeper into a submissive headspace; despite your fingers not comparing to the length, girth or warmth of his own, they still helped you relax deep enough for you to fall into a quiet slumber.

“Jesus, Sweetheart,” were the words that woke you. Deep and smooth as always, coming from the man you loved most in the world. He sounded like chocolate, making you all warm and fuzzy on the inside. “After all that, you’ve passed out on me. Couldn’t even wait a few minutes for me to come home, hm?”

You mumbled something. Nothing of any particular meaning, but it made your boyfriend coo anyway. He always found you cute when you first woke up.

“If you’d behaved earlier, I might have let you sleep,” He said, and through your sleepy haze, you recognised the familiar condescending tone he usually used when the two of you were in bed together. Despite the fact that your brain was still coming to terms with being awake, you could still feel the ache in your pussy kick in again. “Unfortunately, my sweet girl isn't so sweet after all. Nasty little whore needs teaching a lesson.”

You subconsciously spread your legs, giving him access to the place that you so desperately wanted him. The display made him let out a low chuckle, which in turn made your hips buck slightly. Just the sound of his voice was enough to drive you crazy with need.

“Yun,” you whined, the words coming out jumbled, your fingers still pressed firmly down on your tongue. Only now did you crack your eyes open wide enough to get a good look at him. He was all dressed up in his dress shirt and slacks, sleeve rolled up to his elbows and hands in his pockets. He looked just as handsome as he did ‘in-charge’ and you loved every second of it.

“She speaks,” He squatted down so that his face lined up with yours. You couldn't help but notice how pretty he looked with those long black bangs sitting on his brow bone and that cruel glint in his eye that warned you of just how much trouble you were in. “Shame you can’t use that brain to follow instructions, huh?” The question was rhetorical, but you nodded anyway.

You felt a warm hand wrap around your dominant hand’s wrist and pull. With a pop, your fingers were finally free from your wet cavern, but not for long. You watched with the utmost interest as Yunho opened his own mouth and encapsulated your fingers inside. He hummed deeply, letting his eyes flutter closed as he tasted your spit on your fingers. His tongue moved on its own, lapping at the appendages as if your saliva was going to be his last drink. It felt so dirty, but he didn't even blink an eye. It's as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You never knew that your fingertips were an erogenous zone, but the feeling of his tongue trailing along them only served to make you wetter. You squeezed your thighs together, ignoring the painfully loud squelch as you did so. Your panties were embarrassingly soaked, but you couldn't help it. Not when Yunho was acting like the embodiment of temptation itself.

“You taste so sweet,” he mumbled as he pulled his mouth off of you. When he opened his eyes again, you couldn't help but notice that his pupils were blown out, lust taking over his face entirely. You couldn't see yourself, but you were almost positive that you were faring no better. “And that's why you’re my sweetheart, sweetheart.”

You gave him a sleepy giggle as he went back to lapping at your fingertips with the tiniest of kitten-licks. His tongue danced along them, dipping in between and swirling around the tips.

“I love you, Yun,” the words slipped from your lips before you could stop them. He smiled. A proper smile full of joy and love. It made your heart pitter-patter giddily.

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” He leaned forwards to offer you a sweet kiss to the lips. It was short lived, but it made your heart flutter like you were a schoolgirl receiving a letter from her crush. When he pulled away, his eyes were much darker, and that fuzzy, gentle feeling was replaced with hard, powerful lust. You swallowed hard as Yunho let a twisted little grin paint his face, “but I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

#yunho hard thoughts #yunho smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fic #ateez smut #yunho x reader

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ynbabe · 9 months ago

Text

Fake texts au- pt.17 bffs with the rookies+ The Sleepover I

You had called all the rookies and a few others as well, the first one to show up was Lance. You had become friends with him through your uncle and in the short time you knew him, you both had become close.

You ran up and hugged him, making him stumble back a few steps. He laughed, dropping his bags and wrapped his arms around you.

You let go, patting his shoulders, leading him into the house, he motioned to the driver he had rented to bring in the rest of his luggage.

"Holy shit, are you moving in with me?" You gasped as the man brought in two huge suitcases and went back for more.

"You don't want the stuff I got you then?" He raised his brow, sitting on the couch next to you. You shifted closer to the man and nudged him with your shoulders, making him smile.

"Nooooo, I want the stuff, you can leave though," You shrugged.

"Man shut up," he retorted, "I've got to meet with Nando anyways,"

"Well, I'm still your favourite Alonso though,"

"You literally never were," he bit back, making you gasp, you turned your face away, hand on your chest.

"Outta my house man, ungrateful ass-"

"I'm literally doing you a favour." He deadpanned.

You just stared at him for a second and then broke the silence, incapable of staying still.

"You want a pizza?"

"I want to sleep, jet lag fucking sucks," He groaned, even though the time difference between Canada and Spain wasn't more than his f1 schedule, it was a lot.

"Yeah, come on, I'll show you to your room." You got up, him following.

"By when do the others get here?" He asked as you led him up the stairs.

"Well, Arthur's getting here in like half an hour, Logan and Oscar are getting here by like 5, and Mick's gonna be here by 7, we'll start streaming by like 9 I think," His eyes glistened when hearing Mick's name, obviously happy to have someone he was close with.

I opened the door to the guest room and he immediately made his way to the bed, all but passing out.

You went back down, knowing you'd have to open the door for Arthur soon and I didn't want the bell to disturb Lance. So I opened the door and laid on the couch, scrolling on my phone.

I was lost on TikTok, spam-sending random reels to the group chat.

Suddenly someone grabbed the hood of my hoodie and pulled it, making me jump off the couch and fall on the floor dragging the person down with me.

I opened my eyes to find a laughing blonde bent over my torso.

"What the fuck, Arthur!" you yelled, pushing the still-laughing boy off me, sitting up and adjusting my hoodie.

"Well, who asked you to leave the door open?" He retorted, letting himself fall on the couch, I sat back where I was and he turned, placing his head on my lap, "By the way, did you get a roommate or something?" he asked pointing to the bags.

"Nah, that's just Lance," I said, returning to my scrolling.

"Charlies' asking if we'll be drinking today,"

"i dont know why?"

"So he can call the cops in advance,"

"WE ARENT THAT BAD" I cried out knowing it was a lie.

As time went on, I shifted into a more comfortable position, sleep finally taking us over.

I woke up with a start and startled the boy curled beside me. The doorbell kept ringing a second time, loud and harsh.

"What the fuck," I called out, rubbing my eyes and then remembering Logan and Oscar were supposed to be arriving.

I ran to the door, jumping over Lance's bags in the hallway, opening the door to find my closest friends, "Hi! How are y'all?" You asked, helping them with their bags, and setting them next to Lance's.

You hugged the Brunette and then the blonde who wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in, and making you feel warm.

"How was the flight?" You asked, your hand still around Logan's waist, and his around yours.

The three of you spoke as you walked to the living sofa, where Arthur was finally awake enough to be human.

"Hey, Art," Logan ruffled the other blondes hair and jumped over the back of the couch to sit next to him.

Arthur, who was happy to have someone else to lean on, immediately latched onto Logan, pushing the American down, and passing out again.

"He's jetlagged, or something, I don' know," You shrugged when the boy looked at you for an explanation. "I'll go wake up Lance, y'all know where your rooms are right?" You asked and Oscar nodded, the others either sleeping or trying not to move.

When the man finally woke up, and didn't throw pillows at you with scary accuracy, he walked down the stairs behind you to the living room and greeted the rest of the boys.

You all freshened up and called for some food, waiting for Mick.

Finally, the blonde arrived, smiling and surprisingly with no jet lag.

You guys ate a quick dinner and set up Oscar's twitch channel.

You rubbed your hands together maniacally making the boys look at you questioningly, poor guys, you thought, they have no idea whats planned.

its_y/n_love

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Tagged: @/arthur_leclerc @/logansargeant @/oscarpiastri @/lancestroll@/mickschummacher

its_y/n_love never get near the Leclercs when they're sleepy. Ever. Also join Osc's stream ASAP

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username omg girl what?!??

username SHES BACK! I REPEAT SHES BACK

its_y/n_love @/arthurleclerc pls for the love of god let go of that american

Logansargeant I am traumatised and I will be pressing charges, square up. Oscarpiastri Oh yeah? At least you didn't have to cook with that on your back its_y/n_love mans slept on me ONLY I CAN COMPLAIN

Maxverstappen Can attest, they are very touchy

charlesleclerc YOU SAID WE WEREN'T GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT Username not even one sec and shes causing chaos, bbg never leave again Username TALK ABT WHAT?? MR.LECLERC WHAT HAVE U DONE??

Landonorris I would very much like the credits. Thank you.

Mickschummacher 🥰🥰

username boy stand up username OMG MICK!!

Lancestroll We haven't done anything but I feel like I need to call Nando already.

username pookie?? what are you doin here??

Arthurleclerc ALLEGATIONS! FALSE ALLEGATIONS

Oscarpiastri Now why would you lie when we have proof? Logansargent This isn't even the worst of it its_y/n_love It really isn't

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com @landosgirlxoxo @aquangxl @sachaa-ff @tyna-19 @assholeinatrenchcoat @allenajade-ite @megatrilss1885 @squirreljoe @jsjcue @s4turnsl0ver @yl90@elijahslover @trouble-sistar @notizzyj @chilwell-mount @hiireadstuff

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cemeteryspider · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! Ok I’m here with my request I was wondering if I can request Rex dating a fem!reader who’s like raven from dc? Like powers and all that and Rex is just so in love with her 😔(May it please be like dating hc’s? Please and thank you🫶🫶🫶)

Rex-Splode Dating Headcanons

Rex-Splode! Rex Sloan x Raven! Reader

Trigger Warnings: Nightmares

Word Count: 925

You met Rex during Guardians of the Globe tryouts. You had also seen him get his ass beat by Monster Girl. Luckily, after this incident, he was less of a douche overall.

However, things changed once the Guardians started to become a team. He would try his best to be around you whenever he could. You would be running on the treadmill, and then all of a sudden he was running next to you. You could be making a sandwich, and he would be making his right next to you. Or you would sit and read your book, and he would scroll on his phone near you, occasionally glancing up at you when he thought you didn't notice. You did.

Then one day when you were pummeling a punching bag, he asked if you would like to get coffee sometime. You knew he had feelings for you, and you felt in your bones you should say yes.

A date to an art gallery and one dinner later, you and Rex made it official and told the team, who seemed shocked. Either you were exceptionally good at hiding your relationship, or they just couldn't believe you would date Rex.

~~~

You love your personal space, Rex also loves your personal space. The two of you could be walking down the street, it would have to be hand-in-hand, or maybe his hand would be in your back pocket. This annoyed you to no end at first but quickly you understood the constant wanting to be close to you was because he wanted to protect you. You would never admit it, but you loved him.

His favorite time to be in your personal space is during a fight. He would bottle the feeling of you guys standing back to back using your powers to protect each other. When you crushed invading aliens who wanted to kill him, he never felt safer. You made him feel safe.

Simply, he loves to make you laugh and smile. Even though you keep a straight face and hard demeanor around other people, you are a totally different person than when you were with Rex. Somehow his silly sarcastic personality leaked through into yours, and he could make you giggle without even trying.

He loves to see you train with the other Guardians, especially Invincible. Being from a demonic bloodline, you could go toe-to-toe with the Viltrumite, without too much damage, and more often than not you would best the newer hero. After all, you could practically tear Mark apart with the darkness you controlled if you wanted to.

Of course, he hated when he had to fight you. Not because he was scared he would hurt you, no, he was scared you would hurt him. Even going easy on him, you would beat Rex easily. Teleporting away from any explosives he threw your way, and wrapping smokey black tendrils of darkness around him or, as gently as possible, throwing him into a wall with your telekinesis.

You would always apologize profusely after taking him down, but he would always reassure you that he loved you and your powers. Maybe you would even explore using your powers in more intimate places in the future.

~~~

However, once in a battle with Machine Head and his goons, you start to be overwhelmed with the other's pain. When Rex saw you fall to your knees all he could see was red. You held your head in your hands and started to feel yourself lose control.

Your eyes glazed over black, and you screamed. At this point, Rex had just taken out Machine Head and started running over to you as objects all around you started to float and shake. Kneeling next to you, he took your hands in his.

"Hey, babe, come back to me, everything is going to be okay. You just need to come back," Everyone who wasn't passed out on the ground looked at the tense scene in front of them.

They all knew what could happen if you truly lost control of yourself. You had once leveled a skyscraper only to rebuild it moments later.

Still, some part of you listened to Rex and allowed yourself to come back to wherever in your mind you retreated to. You allowed yourself a vulnerable moment, letting yourself slump into Rex's arms. He held you tight until the medics arrived, and still held your hand when you were carried away on a stretcher, even though you promised you could walk.

~~~

Rex could never let anything bad happen to his girl. You were his everything and the only person he would let his sarcastic walls down for. You appreciated the black roses, and eventually black dahlias he would get you after telling him it was your favorite flower.

He would bandage your wounds after a battle, once you took care of him because you always insisted on patching him up first. Kiss your bruises whenever he sees them. He would put his arms around you when he saw your eyes unfocus and zone out, and bring you back to reality.

He would tell you he loved you at every chance he got and showed you off every time he got the chance.

"Look at this picture of my girlfriend, she's so hot"

"Did you see her fight? She's just so amazing"

"Ah she just makes me feel, so differently than I ever have before"

He practically drooled every time you walked by him. He loves the way you look. Anything you wear he wants to rip off of you and start to kiss every part of you. It could be your skin-tight leotard and cape, your casual sweater and jeans look, or your silly Rex-Splode pajamas he got you as a joke.

(The pajamas do something to him idk)

~~~

Rex has always helped you with the nightmares that plague you when you sleep. When Rex lost his hand in the fight against the Lizard League, you still regret not being there, you helped him through his nightmares. Soothing his mind and, with his permission, lulled him back to sleep with your powers. He knew that subconsciously you were calming him down to the best of your ability, and he knew why he always slept better when you were around.

You treated Rex like more than he ever saw himself as, and he didn’t treat you like the monster you felt you were. You each healed something inside the other, and if that’s not love then you don’t know what is.

#rex splode x reader #rex sloan x reader #rex x reader #rex sloan #invincible series #invincible amazon #invincible #invincible animated series #mark grayson #invincible fanfic

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chezzywezzy · 3 months ago

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Yandere Birdbox (3/5)

Word count; 3.8k

For the first time, Y/n had the concious thought about whether they could use their ability to see their surroundings. They always thought their blindness was a curse, but in the apolcolypse, it had come in usefully. Whether this was only an ability in their sleep, Y/n had yet to determine, but they hoped it wasn’t — Y/n didn’t see any other way to survive.

Y/n laid their head against the counter. They plugged their phone in, dreading the day when electricity was no longer available and Siri — Y/n’s only friend — was silenced. And then came the issue of food. They were stuck. Y’n couldn’t help but ponder death. They were aware of how generally awful they were as a person, and that kept Y/n with a will to live and a will to die.

Y/n was selfish, rude, and a coward. They were bitter at the world for being unfair and punished the people around them the same. Too selfish and afraid to die, but too hateful toward the world to live. It was a conundrum. Y/n figured, though, that their general confusion would be the death of them, as they were too confused on what to do. Y/n had their talents in a paintbrush, not a weapon. Y/n couldn’t see. Y/n hardly knew the area because their father often shipped groceries to their doorstep so Y/n only left the house for exhibitions, interviews, and art supplies.

Their father. Y/n sat up, grabbing the phone.

“Hey, Siri. Call dad.”

The phone began ringing. The screen was slightly cracked, but its not as though Y/n cared. The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

“The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. After the tone, please leave a message.”

A wave of sadness and worry washed over Y/n. They recognized that their father was the most important person in their life. Perhaps his phone was dead. Perhaps it was lost. Perhaps he was asleep.

Or perhaps he was dead.

For the first time since hell had descended on earth, Y/n began to cry. They wandered over to the couch to lay down, curling on their side. For the first time in a while, they thought of ‘Last Look’s dreadful day.

“Doctor, why can’t my child see? How can they get their sight back?” their father pleaded.

“Sir, I’m sory, We’ve ran several tests, but sometimes, things like this happen. A hidden gene. A faulty switch in the occipital lobe. Although there is still no noticable differences in their brain development, nerves, or blood work, cases like this happen. It’s unfortunate, and unfair. Sometimes, the eyes shut down entirely overnight from unknown causes. And, currently, we don’t have the technology to do anything about it.”

Their father’s eyebrows furrowed. Although Y/n couldn’t see it, he was losing hope. He wondered if he had somehow failed his only child.

“I… I did some research. They somehow made a young boy see again —“

“That was a scientific anomaly, sir,” the doctor argued desperately. “And anyway, this clinic is incapable of giving that kind of treatment.”

Y/n’s father began to sob. They are crying, too. The doctor’s words scared them. They clawed and rubbed at their eyes, but their father grabbed their hands, squeezing tightly. He comforted them, whispering sweet words that everything would be alright. That they would make due. That there was nothing wrong with being blind. That it wasn’t the end of the world.

But Y/n was only a child. Their entire future had been robbed. Y/n didn’t know of any blind heros. Anyone out there that made a living or lived independently. Y/n was uneducated. All they knew was that their world had ended, and that they wanted to see again.

And see they now did. Y/n shot up. It was but a blink, but they saw. It was like they physically transcended their body and walked to the door, going right through it. They reached for a canvas, their fingers tracing it like a memory. A man. Middle-aged, beer-bellied, straggling jawline, balding. Pale eyes with a daze. Pounding, over and over. His knuckles bleeding. His clothes torn and bloody. The woman’s corpse beside him, eyes torn open and from her skull, as though his fingers had dug into them to remove them personally. In the woman’s chest, there was an iron rod.

Y/n could still see it clearly. The man was really there, still pounding ruthlessly. Y/n had blocked out the knocking, but with sudden focus, their ears returned to the sound.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

They dropped the brush and went over to the kitchen. They pulled a knife from the drawe, removing the blade cover. The wind was still howling outside, pounding at the windows. They went over to the door.

Y/n suddenly found courage and a voice.

“How are you alive? Why are you here? How did you know I was here?”

The knocking stopped suddenly. With its absense, an eerie silence followed. Y/n suddenly regretted speaking up.

A gruff voice, enchanted yet ery, very dry and cracked, answered. “They showed me true beuty. They want me to show you. Let me give you my eyes, Y/n. I want to give you my eyes —“

“Why is everyone else dead but you? What’s doing all this?” Y/n’s voice was shaky yet steady.

“…Sinners. All of them. They did not want to see. But I do. You do. They want me to show you it all. Open the door, Y/n. Let me give you my eyes.”

“That’s impossible. I am blind. Please, leave me alone —“

“But you have the sight!” the man suddenly boomed. “They gave it to you a long, long time ago. And now, they will show you everything great and beautiful. Open the door. Open the door. Let me give you my eyes.”

Y/n only grew more confused with every sentence. Nothing made sense.

“How will you give me your eyes?”

Manic, cracked laughter ensued. “I will tear them from my skull and hand them to you. You must see it, Y/n. It is beautiful! Beautiful, I tell you! Open the door!”

“Leave your eyes at the doorstep. I will take them that way.”

“I wish to see you myself. They speak so highly of you. You are the most beautiful landscape of all. I must see you, Y/n. I must see you and hand you my eyes —!”

Shivers rolled down their spine and they took a step away from the door. Y/n was left with more questions than answers. The whole endeavor was pointless. However, Y/n knew that they couldn’t stand the knocking anymore. And they didn’t trust that this man would just die. Something supernatural had consumed the world. The man’s eyes weren’t normal. Perhaps his biology wasn’t, either.

With that, Y/n didn’t let the fear take over. They unlocked the front door and swung it open. The voice was no longer muffled. They aimed to stab, but the man suddenly bellowed and collapsed to his knees. The man was far more vocally gruesome with a door no longer seperating them. The man bowed.

His scarred, bloody hands touched Y/n’s feet. He scrambled and panted. Y/n is left stunned, allowing the man to grovel at their feet.

Sobs echoed the empty hallway.

And Y/n was shaking from head to toe.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” he cried. “They were right! The most beautiful thing in creation!”

His praises fell on deaf ears. Rough hands squeezed Y/n’s feet and they felt overwhelming disgust, overpowering the fear. The hands clawe at their calves and then their thighs. Suddenly, he withdrew, falling silent. His face was drenched in sweat. He glistened with salt and oil. Tears continued to fall, and although Y/n did not know, his eyes were glued to their figure in awe.

And then, he began to claw. He dug his thumb and pointer finger into his eyelids. Y/n stumbled back, hearing the squelch. The man released painful gurgles. Slowly and painfully, he removed his eyes. The man sobbed desperately, and yet all he cried was blood.

Y/n felt a spray against their pants. Y/n had enough. Their selfish, angry side kicked in, adrenaline suddenly bursting through their veins. Gritting their teeth, they stabbed the man in the neck, somehow knowing exactly where to aim. The man gurgled out a cry, dropping his eyeballs and collapsing to the welcome mat. Y/n kicked the man away, feeling their socks get drenched with liquids. The man’s thud was the last sound he made.

Y/n felt around the corpse for the knife, disgusted. They removed it.

They slammed the door shut and locked it again.

The corpse sat there. The man lay there, decaying and wet. The eyeballs were completely seperated and long cords spun out from his eyes. Despite the pain he and Y/n had caused, the man was smiling.

Y/n was rattled to their core, turning and sliding down the door. Their hands had intense tremors. They knew damn well they couldn’t stay stuck. The wind was howling, harder and harder. The beast was near. And the insane missionary had found them once. Another one surely could.

Y/n stayed frozen on the floor, cradling the moist knife like a child, for a very, very long time. It was slowly settling on them that they had commited murder. It didn’t feel like self-defense. The man had worshipped them, for christ’s sake. They couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened, had they taken the eyes? What would they have seen?

They decided to think it over in the shower; they knew they had to move while they had the resources. Siri wouldn’t live forever. Their food supply wouldn’t last. They needed to find a grocery store to camp in — one that wouldn’t be too populated with hypothetical looters.

They also needed resolution on what happened to their father.

When they hopped out of the shower, they began to pack the essentials: their charger, phone, cane, clothing, food, and paints. Everything they’d need to survive, but also live.

Y/n’s first thought of where to go was the corner store down the block. It’s where they often went for an easy snack. Y/n took their cane and turned Siri on to the corner store. They shoved the phone in their pocket after plugging in earbuds.

They felt their way toward the elevator. Their ears were keen, but the hallway was silent.Usually, their apatment building was full of hustle and bustle, especially at… god, Y/n didn’t even know what time it was. So, they asked while in the elevator.

“Seven-thirty-three.”

The elevator beeped and the doors opened. More silence. Siri repeated directions, but Y/n knew the way to the front entrance.

They paused. The beast seemed to follow their every move; it was everywhere. It was the air Y/n was breathing. That much they knew. They hovered, afraid to leave. But Y/n’s will to survive and be selfish was the most important part.

And then they hear it: a screaming woman. Y/n dashed out the door, selfishly believing this was their chance. In Y/n’s mind, the wind would divert its attention, even if it was an entire entity. The screams echoed and grew louder. The wind was bustling and squealing in their ears. They could hardly use their cane, relying solely on Siri’s directions.

“Turn left to reach your destination.”

Y/n skidded to a stop, losing their footing. Y/n grunted loudly, knowing they would probably be left with a nasty bruise. They scrambled onto their knees. They dropped the cane, but as the wind whistled and bustled, the cane was the last thing on their mind. In their world of darkness, they crawled forward, finally feeling at a glass panel. Y/n scrambled to their feet, gripping the handle.

They pulled at it desperately, almost falling again as the door swung open. They felt papers adorn the inside, and a wave of relief washed over them as they pulled the door shut. Y/n was shaking in their boots as they held the position, feeling the wind beat against the door.

Click.

Y/n tensed, turning wildly and reluctantly releasing the doorknob. Their voice came out as a squeak.

“Who’s there?”

“Don’t move. Hands up.”

A man’s voice echoed in the otherwise silent corner store. The man sounds gruff, and Y/n can tell that the man sounds rather redneck. And by the clicking, the man held a gun. Y/n complied.

The man emerged from behind a shelf, crouched slightly, and had a pistol aimed directly at them. Y/n panted, unaware of the man’s exact location. Their head turned every which way, attempting to locate the man. The man wore a dark leather jacket and was somewhat older. He had a peppered beard and a big bald spot on his head. He wore glasses and ripped jeans, giving off the general aesthetic of a retired biker.

“Now, what’s it like out there? Have you seen it?”

“I - I don’t know. It’s quiet, sir,” Y/n stuttered. “I’m blind — I can’t see the monster —“

“Bullshit.”

“I dropped my cane right outside the door —“

“I know you’re just like the last guy. Trying to fool me, are you —“

“I’m blind! I’m Y/n L/n — I’m famous, haven’t you fucking heard of me, you fucking loser?” Y/n exclaimed, almost insulted. “Just look out, and you’ll see you fucking cane —“

While Y/n had been ranting and tossing insults at the man, he had progressed silently. Y/n stared out blankly, expression angry and unchanging as the man snuck up on them. Y/n paused, breathing heavily. All they saw was darkness, unaware of whether a gunshot would shoot them dead.

“Boo.”

Y/n jumped wildly, flailing to the ground. They burst into tears, which made the man laugh. He glanced out the paper, noticing the cane. “By golly, I guess you are blind. Or one hell of an actor. You don’t got the same eyes as them, either.”

“Jesus, fuck you —“

The man lowered his gun and chuckled gruffly. “Yeah, yeah. If you saw the world we were living in right now, you’d understand. Now, get away from the door and behind this here counter.”

Without asking, the man grabbed and pulled them. Y/n frowned firmly but allowed it to happen. Behind the counter was a small pile of wrapper trash and a torn up sleeping bag. The man beckoned to sit, but they gathered that once they felt the counter. Their movements were still skittery, untrusting of the man before them.

“So, let’s exchange stories.”

“Stories?”

“My name is Mark. I’m the owner of this establishment, although that doesn’t mean much these days,” he explained. “I followed the news religiously, waiting for something like this. Then, I noticed reports of mass hysteria starting in Italy. I shut down shop immediately, and not even an hour or so later, the news turned to shit, and so did the world outside. I learned that whatever’s out there cannot be seen and all that shit, so I’ve got my trusty blindfold around my neck just in case. And finally, I guess it’s safe here for now, but we sure as hell can’t stay here. It’s a fucking corner store. The supplies aren’t endless.”

Y/n listened intently to his ramblings and, deciding to suspend distrust, nodded and replied. “Yeah, okay. So, I’m blind. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me. I’m the ‘blind painter.’ I had a gallery that day and was heading home when it all started. Uh, and I was fine until I started having… dreams. Seeing things that were there. Like this cult guy outside my door that wouldn’t leave me alone. I actually saw what he looked like in my head. I killed the guy and he was fucking worshiping me. Something about how he wanted me to see. God, he pulled out his eyes —“ Y/n stopped, replaying that moment in their head and shuddering. “Uh, and I came here… Oh. And I’m Y/n.”

“The fuck?”

“I guess this plague affects everyone differently, but if I’d known that, I sure as hell wouldn’t have let you in.”

“It’s a gift,” Y/n insisted anxiously. “A stupid one. But my father always told me god gave me eyes in my dreams. The truth is, I think I’ve seen the monster in my dreams. And when I focused, I could see the man outside my apartment. But only when asleep.”

“Prove it. Show me some of your drawings. You obviously brought the fucking supplies.”

“I haven’t used this notebook in years. It’s only old drafts,” Y/n answered, withdrawing the notebook from their bag.

“Well, if you’re some fancy painter, it doesn’t really matter.”

Without warning, the man snatched the notebook from their grasp and started going through the pages. He slowly goes through them, ignoring Y/n’s angry expression from the invasion. Inside the notebook was several drafts of pretty locations. Some faces. The occasional animal.

Mark paused at a page, his brows crinkling. “This the monster you saw in your head?”

“What is it?”

Mark described it to them.

“Yes. Although that could have been my imagination.”

Mark continued to stare at the scribbles. It was somehow made of clean yet untidy scribbles. There was a large circle surrounding a large head that had long, spindly tendrils, leaving a cavernous mouth. The thing had slits for eyes, and there was a gleam to the flesh of the beast. It was like a halo over it, and Mark couldn’t help but admire the drawing.

Then, he turned the page to find another one. He was suspicious, but the drawings were aged and marked with a date from several years ago. This drawing had a clearer face image, showing the tall, slimy forehead. The slits for eyes were open, bulbous, and consumed with black charcoal. The tendrils leaked down the paper like Y/n had switched to paint halfway through.

After that sketch, it returned to an image of a mountain waterfall.

“…Huh. So you’re telling me you saw this shit coming too?”

“Hardly. I thought they were nothing but recurring dreams until now.”

“Well, let me get some food. I think there’s a spare sleeping bag in the back, too.”

Mark rose and weaved around Y/n. Y/n remained still, grabbing their notebook back and getting lost in thought.

They thought about how long they would be able to stay, especially in the company of Mark. Another person meant the distribution of resources, but Mark could also see and shoot. Y/n figured their thoughts were selfish, but the world would probably be much prettier without fellow humans polluting it. Yn didn’t care much bout life, but cared enough that they refused to commit suicide. Y/n wondered if their father was alive —

Y/n heard a door open and assumed Mark was returning. Mark returned with a box of Frosted Flakes and a rolled-up, far newer sleeping bag.

A sense of safety and exhaustion reached Y/n as they silently munched on Frosted Flakes. The taste was slightly stale, and despite their typical pickiness, there was a sense of comfort. They came to terms calmly with the fact that the apocalypse was upon them. That meant that stale cereal, a warm sleeping bag, and a man with a gun weren’t the worst things in the world at that moment.

“You sure you aren’t possessed?” Mark yawned, perking up and cradling his pistol.

“He said ‘they’’ wanted to give me my eyes back. To give me true sight. The ma worshipped me as a god,” Y/n recalled with a pause. “I wish I was possessed because whatever they are seeing… it must be incredible.”

~~~

Y/n was awoken from a deep, terrifying slumber with animated shaking. “Wake the fuck up!” Mark bellowed. “What are you seeing?”

Y/n scrambled, sleep in their eyes. Mark was on top of things, scrambling for their paint palette and notebook. Y/n felt at them. Some terrified tears escaped their eyes as they scribbled roughly on the notebook paper. Mark was silent and watched carefully as Y/n drew, their gaze staring up fearfully and unknowingly making direct eye contact with Mark.

Y/n suddenly dropped the paint brush and panted. “This. I saw this.”

Y/n handed the notebook over. Some time had passed; according to Mark, they had rationed well, and a week or so had passed. Trust had formed between the two of them. Sometimes, Y/n dreamt and they drew. But based on the violence in their head, Mark must have known something was especially wrong with this one. Y/n often woke up with the sun, according to Mark, but Y/n had the sense that the sun was not up yet.

“I… hope I drew it right. I saw many, many people. A mob. They were walking down a road, dazed and enchanted. They’ve seen it.”

Mak analyzed the work intensely. He was still amazed at his comrade's ability and figured it would be his demise. But at least it kept him on his toes. It made for conversation, too.

The image depicted rocky, cold, and dying terrain with stale grass and swamplands in the distance. A few abandoned, rotting cars were on a large, spacious road, which was covered in oddly detailed figures. The mob was walking, dazed, just as Y/n had described. The mob was thick, and despite their harmless and dumb expressions, they yielded weapons — anything from crowbars to hammers to guns.

“That’s Dale. My coworker,” Mark stated, pointing to one of the figures. “We worked at the same local construction company for a while.”

“Local?”

“Local.”

The realization dawned on the pair. Mark examined the road further. “That same road. It’s the main road leading into town.”

“Fuck.”

“Do you know what that means? Why are they coming here?” Mark inquired carefully, perturbed by the situation.

“They’re… coming for me, I think. It won’t take a genius to realize that I moved. Please, we have to go somewhere else —“

“Jesus, I get it. Let’s pack what we can. We can go out to back. And, Y/n, I want you to wear this blindfold. Just in case.”

#yandere x reader #self insert #x y/n #x reader #yandere #yandere birdbox #yandere bird box #bird box x reader #birdbox #bird box #monster

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zep-zep-blog · 9 months ago

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Im back from the dead yall. I got this idea from @timeslugarts ^^ Go give them a follow for their amazing art! Hope yall enjoy!

Vox x gn!reader

Genre:Fluff | Cw: death, car crash, hospital mention

☆Devilish Love☆

Darkness. That's all you could remember until you wake up in this fiery hellscape. In reality, you were hit by a drunk driver and was in a coma back on Earth with family crying at your bedside, but your soul was trapped here. In the underworld of sinners that were repenting for their crimes.

You wandered the streets, looking around at the different sinners, demons, and other wayward souls. That is until you ran face first into someone, that being a tall man(?) if you could even call him that. He had a tv as a face for crying out loud. "Watch it." He said in a voice that was common in late 50's shows, his voice was sharp and boomed. Ofcourse you squeaked out an apology, but it wouldn't be the last. As you ran into him several times, even getting into arguements with him.

Over time, you did grow close. You stopped arguing with him less often and he offered to let you stay at his place. Soon his roommates, Valentino and Velvette grew to accept you and noticed how much romantic tension there was. You hung around him like a lost puppy, helping him with paperwork or his various shows he produces. This did lead to some issues though, as one day you had accidentally mixed up the scripts for one of the shows and you got into an argument. You and Vox had argued for almost 2 hours, but he finally cracked and impulsively kissed you on the lips.

That kiss had spiraled into you being his right hand, his assistant, his second half. You and him ran Voxtech with a iron fist, planning on taking over sinners and hell. He was also planning some ring options behind the scenes, asking Velvette for help on diamond size, band size, even the box color. Little did he know that the doctors in the mortal plane had other ideas.

You stood in the kitchen, messy hair from just waking up and only in one of Vox's more casual shirts and some underwear. He sat at the island, pouring you guys some cereal, you were about to take a spoonful when BAM your gone in a blink of an eye. Vox panicked, going absolutely nuts. Every tv, phone, camera, you name it was spent looking for you. He even went down to the Princess's hotel to demand an answer from Alastor.

"WHERE ARE THEY ALASTOR! I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL TURN YOU INTO VENISON BY THE TIME IM DONE-" He yelled, going berserk at the front door of the hotel. The door opened by Vaggie lunging at him with her spear, but was thankfully stopped by Charlie. "What's going on? What did Alastor do?" She asked with her signature smile. "He took them! I just know he did!" Vox screeched, pointing his finger at the clam and smiling radio demon. Every one turned their heads to look at Alastor, who looked a bit too calm for the situation. "Who?" His staticy voice came off as genuine confusion. "MY SPOUSE YOU STUPID FUCK!" Vox argued. "Who?-" Alastor was cut off by Angel, "Wait. Someone married you?" He asks, "Well, we were going to get married, but-but they just DISAPPEARED!" Vox says desperately, but not wanting to give Alastor any ammo he left. He returned to his office, giving annoyed huffs to Valentino and Velvette's questions.

Meanwhile, you had woken up to a heart moniter beeping and the warm embrace of your mom, hugging and weeping. The smell of hospital had made you more aware of the situation. Was..was that all a dream? You weren't exactly the perfect person, but having a dream about falling inlove in hell was a bit much for your human mind. Eventually, years had passed and you had lived a single life with a few pets for company, never getting over that dream until your death. Unfortunately, time in hell is different, while almost 30 years had passed since that car crash it had only been a few months for Vox. He had lashed out and never stopped searching. He spent all his time balancing finding you, fighting Alastor, and running Voxtech.

You had woken up in the same place 30 years ago, but it didn't look like that time had passed. You were shocked, it wasn't a dream all those years ago. You dashed through the streets looking for the familiar building of your long lost beloved. Soon you reached your destination, zooming through the lobby, but getting caught short by security. You caused a huge scene, cussing and yelling, begging for them to let you see Vox. Velvette alerted him to your outburst and he zapped through the wires to the lobby and froze. It was you, the person he still had the perfectbring for. The person he still made a plate for. The person he hugged a pillow at night to remember the touch of. He ran to you, shouting at the guards to let you go. He hugged you tightly, sharing a few tears as you hugged him back. You missed this, he missed this.

After being reunited he couldn't wait anymore, he eventually proposed with the ring he saved all that time. Sure he waited months, but you waited years and now you both could take over hell together.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #x reader

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afreakingdork · 3 months ago

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You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 9

RotTMNT x Reader

I am constantly blown away by this chapter art by @yamin-yups

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis: You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

This chapter contains reference to body dysmorphia. Remember that what you feel is completely valid, but we can sometimes see ourselves differently than we really are. Please keep yourselves safe.

Also available on Ao3

First 💛 Previous

“Maybe we take a break from going out into the packed public for once?” Mikey was upside-down, but compensated by holding his phone the opposite way.

It put him right side up in the video chat, but the view was extra blurry. “Is that… okay?”

“I’m the one suggesting it!” Mikey stuck out his tongue, but his reflection seemed to confuse him on which way the appendage should go. “It’s been awhile. I haven’t been able to see you.”

“Yeah… well…” Though for you it would have been predictable, Mikey hadn’t felt the firsthand effects of your setbacks yet.

Panic attacks always caused you to withdraw into yourself.

You weren’t supposed to.

There were times when it was easy to keep going.

Others, such as now, left you homebound for as long as society allowed.

The push to normalcy now included your thoughtful friend.

“Do you know after my tremors went away, I spent months avoiding art because I was afraid of how it would look?” Mikey told you casually.

You weren’t sure what he was talking about.

You tried to recall something about tremors, but came up short.

You wanted to ask more, but there was a more startling aspect than the content itself.

You couldn’t believe there was ever a period where Mikey avoided art as he had been nothing, but a loud proponent of all its merit.

“Why?”

“Because I knew my level and then… I didn’t. I knew I’d have to get back there. It was like riding a skateboard, but needing to take that time? For a second time. Chancing the bad result? It was like my healing was one thing and then by doing that it would show me just how much further I still needed to go. Like that dude with the cat and the box. I didn’t want to open it and find out. I couldn’t do it.”

“Isn’t the saying… something… about riding a bike?”

“We were skateboard tots!” Mikey rolled over and with it so did his camera, inverting the image.

You nodded lightly.

“I switched up crafts. Started new ones that weren’t so finger focused. Pour paints and candle work!” He made grabby hands at the lens as he fixed his phone angle.

“Something low key…” You hummed where you were sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Yeah, something quiet, calm, and… oh! Oh yeah!” There was another flip, but this one was out of excitement.

“D-don’t… bust through a wall…!”

Mikey appeared within a flurry of static. “Did you just make a Kool-Aid Man joke?”

“I make jokes!”

The wattage of his smile turned up to a blinding degree. “Well then I’ve got just the wall to bust through!”

“No.” Donnie glowered over his shoulder.

“Please!” Mikey bounced his plea with his head straight up to the ceiling of the garage you were currently in.

An oddity in the subway, but something you imagined had to exist based on logic, your eyes were openly roving around the tidy depot.

“Absolutely not.” Lifting out from under a hood and minding his head, Donnie craned an elbow to the engine block he was working on. “You know you’ve been banned.”

“One time!” Mikey groaned.

“No!” Donnie felt the need to rip off his leather work gloves to throw an unencumbered finger in Mikey’s face. “You were banned once after crashing eleven separate times!!”

“Eleven?!” You squeaked.

Mikey flipped back and forth between the two of you, obviously caught in who to address first. “My driving is fine!” He chose you and then flipped to Donnie. “I’ve changed!”

From the duffel that was slung around your body, you had already been clinging to the strap as it gave you something comforting to hold on to. With the new knowledge that you had almost been driven somewhere rural by someone with that kind of driving record, you now scooped up the entire sack to soothe yourself.

“Forget that.” Donnie flicked his gaze to you. “You’d need a full crash suit to survive him.” He then folded his gloves into a pair and went to check his tool box.

You wilted further.

“We’re already packed!” Mikey rounded a new argument. “This is going to be our big, no-stress, relaxing getaway and you’re making it exactly not that!”

“That’s unfortunate. The bus station isn’t far.” Donnie knelt down to get a wrench.

“And how’s that going to work!? We get dropped at some station and walk to the cabin!? You know it’s in the middle of nowhere!” Mikey stepped up to throw menace over his brother.

Donnie smelled it a mile away and lifted his head, pouring twice the malice. “Oh, you want to play?”

Mikey gulped and nodded his head once. “Let us borrow a car, the tank, a shell cycle, whatever! You’re being unfair!”

“Your planning is poor.” Donnie was slow to get on one knee. “You’re ill equipped.” To the other, he got a foot under him. “You’ve informed no one.” Rising to his towering height above his brother, he loomed. “You walk into my garage, where I am in the midst of my own personal and much needed zen in the form of refurbishing my newest baby and expect me to drop the keys of another into your hands knowing full well that you have destroyed more vehicles on more occasions than I can count on our joined mutant fingers and toes because you just so happened to suddenly decided that you needed to take a weekend trip with your friend of which whom you have a similar slapdash scheme going on with to go to our family’s cabin up north on a whim!?!”

Having watched Donnie not take a single breath, you backed up nearly the same distance that Mikey’s head had shrunk down into his shell.

“Y-yes?” Mikey peeped.

“No.” Donnie said the word firm and quiet, but punctuated it with a tap to Mikey’s plastron which caused the stiff turtle to fall over. “Now leave me to my work.”

Only a shell laying there, you leaned forward to look over Mikey without compromising your spot.

Donnie swung his wrench and moved over to a creeper with the intention to disappear under what looked like a turtle-themed moon buggy.

“You-” Your voice echoed in the garage and you tensed up.

Mikey’s head emerged from his shell to peek at you.

Donnie halted his motion, but didn’t turn.

“You… um… could… come with us?”

You watched Donnie’s lips wobble with disdain.

“N-Not a-as a d-driver! Y-you said…”

In a loud pop, all of Mikey’s limbs emerged. “That’s a great idea!!!”

In a smooth rotation, Donnie both turned and lifted his wrench with a threat.

Mikey crab walked several paces away.

“I’m disappointed.” Donnie sent a glare in your direction. “If your thought is even-” He caught a glimpse of his wrench. “-5/16ths as moronic as his then you are banned from the garage itself. Know that, would you still like to continue speaking?”

Gaze plummeting, your heart tried to escape and you screwed the whole of you shut to keep it inside.

Your entire body shook with the force of your nerves and you had to wait until your BPMs dropped to a manageable limit before you could manage speech. “You… said… m-much needed… so maybe… the trip would… well… be calming… for you too?”

There was a clink of metal hitting the ground.

Banned.

You were banned from the garage.

That was fine.

In theory, it wasn’t.

In theory, you were mortified.

Despite your best efforts, you had never been banned from anything.

Now you were.

A glaring dark spot on your permanent record.

Was Mikey a bad influence?

“You do say driving gets your mind off things…” Mikey said with a sudden supportive starkness.

You kept your gaze firmly rooted to the floor in shame.

“Also hold up!” In a slap of feet against concrete, Mikey righted himself. “You take a few of those things back, Don! I may have pushed the idea through, but it was not poorly planned or ill equipment or whatever you said! Y/N worked crazy hard on putting together everything in the short time frame I laid out!!”

You twitched.

“There’s maps, multiple trails marked, a calculated amount of water, with extra rations, flares… Like do you think this other bag is mine? Heck no! I’m not bringing anything! Both these bags are Y/N’s! They’re both stuffed with… stuff! Like-like!” You felt Mikey come over to you. “How you contacted the ranger’s station to tell them we’d be in the area? I’ve never even thought of that! We’ve never done that have we, Dee?”

Donnie continued his bout of silence that you didn’t dare look upon.

“What else…?” Mikey slapped his forehead. “I mean, come on! I can’t even remember it all!”

“I… got that satellite phone… you were pretty excited… about it.” You mumbled to the ground.

“With the backup batteries, Donald!” Mikey hummed a self-important sound. “The backup batteries!!”

The garage made it very clear that Donnie was walking over to you.

You bounced ever so slightly to garner the courage to meet his eye.

“Who did itinerary?” Donnie asked.

“Me.” Mikey remarked casually.

“I assume food too?” Donnie’s voice was heavy with judgment.

“Nope.” You could see a swoop as Mikey folded smug arms.

“That’s not quite…” You cleared your throat. “Mikey… shared his… favorite dishes that you… all make…when you… go.”

Donnie dipped into your eye line and you startled.

He’d bent at his waist and come down at a perfect angle.

You stared with warped lips.

“How long?” He narrowed his gaze.

“T-the trip?” Your gaze wobbled.

Mikey opened his mouth and Donnie threw out an arm that, by the sound, must have slapped the younger in the face.

“Yes.” Donnie kept his hand in place.

“Tonight… tomorrow… back Sunday?”

“Is that a question?” Donnie’s head tilted.

Mikey grunted, annoyed.

“No…” You got out, quiet.

“You agreed knowing full well you’d be alone with him?”

Slapped with a similar heat from the first time you’d realized that fact, you gave a tight nod.

‘We have separate rooms!’ Mikey mumbled through closed lips with surprising clarity.

“And that’s okay?” Donnie disappeared.

You chased him up to find he’d released Mikey and was waiting on him for an answer.

“It’s a no brainer.” Mikey nearly rolled his eyes.

Donnie’s brow lowered, unsatisfied.

“Yes, it’s okay because it isn’t a thing.” Mikey huffed around his clarification.

“I suppose… I’ve been persuaded.” Donnie looked down thoughtfully and you watched him trace back to where he’d dropped his wrench.

Mikey jumped into the air with a sudden bout of energy and caught your hands to spin you.

“Y-y-yay!” You stutter, stalling on the rotation.

“Cabin, here we come, baby!” Mikey cheered.

“I need my things!” Donnie barked. “And you.”

You jolted. “Y-yes?”

“You will send me triplicate copies of your plans.”

“S-sure…” You spastically patted yourself down for your phone.

“I refuse to engage with either of your antics.” Donnie’s own appeared in his hand. “I am no third wheel. I am coming because I will apparently have to deal with your whining otherwise and because I am not in the mood for the lecture from Nardo and Raphael when they return.”

“Have they texted yet?” Mikey peered over Donnie’s shoulder.

“No. Security detail means one must pay-” Donnie suddenly dropped and ducked through Mikey’s legs in one fluid movement. “-attention. This is why you weren’t requested.”

“And why didn’t they request you, hm?” Mikey pushed his lips into one corner of his mouth.

“Because…!” Donnie trailed off with widened eyes. “My talents lie elsewhere! Enough interruptions. I will drive and then you will leave me be! I am to have my zen! Is that understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, crystal.” Mikey finally did roll his eyes.

Donnie took a few steps away as you found your phone and held it unsure of how to send him the details.

“He’s totally going because he heard ‘yakiniku’ when you mentioned we were making my favorite foods.” Mikey walked over to you with a smirk.

You watched Donnie take an irritated pause before continuing on to get his things.

The ride in the tank had passed with booming music and a tour from Mikey that you only visually participated in because you were terrified to move about the cabin. The younger seemed not to notice as he explained parts with stories more than function. Donnie alternatively, had shades on that further marred his calculated expression and he said nothing as the studious driver.

Leaving the city and entering scenic woodlands, you were soon left to admire the views until you eventually deviated off the road toward the cabin. Tracking it with the little local map you had found, you busied yourself in the comfortable way that most people disliked on road trips: silence in a cozy bubble all your making.

There didn’t have to be talk, that’s what road trip mixes were for.

You only made exceptions for car games.

You liked that they had simple rules and there were little stakes to be had.

You only wished cars were safer modes of transport.

There was also something to be said about environmental impact and the culture of automobiles in America, but other than that, you found them nice.

Pulling up to what you imagined was a quiescent place, Mikey could not be restrained a second longer.

Out of the tank in a flurry, you watched through the windshield as his form screamed straight up the cabin’s steps. “He doesn’t do great on car rides, huh?”

“Sitting still for too long? Michael?” Donnie rose from the captain’s chair.

You gave a small smile and gathered up the few things you’d taken inside with you. Your actual bags were stored in an outer compartment and Donnie waited for you as a safety net as you made the harrowing steps down the tank ladder and to the ground. Landing with little fault, you joined him in getting the luggage until Mikey tore back over to grab some of the load. He talked loudly of dust that had accumulated and Donnie griped at him that it was obvious they’d need to clean.

You fondly watched the two bicker and set-up became the next directive. Throwing back plastic sheets that coated furniture, Donnie had a multitude of inventions to clear the space quickly. You had to run to the windows to release the dust tornadoes formed. Making it out mostly unscathed, you then helped Mikey hang bug nets. With the late Spring weather warming the air, soon everything was prepped and Mikey did a little closing dance number, capping off the preparatory part of the trip.

“Swimming hole time!” Mikey cheered and then turned knowingly on Donnie. “Then BBQ and prompt lights out so I can make a lumberjack breakfast first thing!”

“We’re grinding beans… we roasted…” You offered softly. “Uh… Coffee… beans… that is…”

“Oh yeah, I forgot we took that class.” Mikey chuckled. “You almost fell into that sack!”

You squashed a noise of distress at the memory.

Understanding the schedule, Donnie dismissed himself with a turned foot and headed to one of the cabin’s many rooms. You were left to look about the quintessential log cabin where the huge living space and connected kitchen then butted up against a row of doors. They spoke of many rooms that traced the back of the cabin and then up a staircase to a second floor. From what you could see, there were about eight rooms in all. The entire cabin then had a wraparound porch that extended into the wilderness. It was land that both belonged to nature and not, but Mikey had been cagey about revealing property lines.

“Welp!” Mikey folded his hands on his hips. “Your boy needs to get wet before he explodes.”

You gawked at him.

“Seriously!” He was looking out over the cabin with a vacant stare that held a sort of unhinged quality. “First the car, then stuck inside? This is not an inside trip. if I am not unleashed in the next, oh I don’t know… 2 minutes, I’m going to lose it!”

“Uh…!”

“You got those trail maps?” He turned, both looking through you and not at.

“Y-yes!”

“I color coded the one to the watering hole. Orange, obviously.” Mikey approached with a waggling brow ridge. “I saw you in the car, keeping perfect pace. It was awesome.”

“Just to s-stay b-busy!”

“Uh huh! Your smile said otherwise! You’ll meet me there then! Same way!” He patted your shoulder once with a whack before bolting out the door.

You stared after him now knowing why he’d chosen to travel in his swimsuit.

Looking down at your road trip ensemble, you still felt sure of your decision to take the few hour drive comfortably.

There was a noise of a door opening and Donatello emerged, changed into a casual outfit punctuated by purple swim trunks.

You stared at him and felt a little like a caught fawn.

Donnie took you in before his gaze dulled with understanding. “He ditched you.”

“I’m… going to meet him.”

“He always does this.” Donnie responded dismissively. “You should have seen him in time out as a tot.”

“Oh?”

“One minute in time out for him was comparative to thirty for the rest of us.” Walking around a large kitchen bar, Donnie studied the rations.

You took a few steps toward him for the sake of it.

“He’s so impatient.” Donnie murmured, poking several waters aside to find a carton of juice boxes that Mikey had insisted on. He quickly tossed the set into the fridge. “He’s not even an aquatic turtle.”

You sort of wished you had done more research past looking up pictures of their species.

“You’re losing daylight.” He emerged from the fridge. “Or are you not swimming?”

“I-I am…!” You squeezed a fist to your chest. “Are… you coming too?”

Donnie blinked slowly at you. “No, why?”

“Oh…” You shouldn’t have assumed. He’d already told you otherwise. “Sorry… your bottoms… I thought…”

“Board shorts.” He punctuated the words with an odd accent.

You gave an unsure nod.

“I’m glad their sign was translated.” He glanced down at himself.

“Sorry…” You murmured when he made no further movement and quickly left to avoid any awkwardness.

You weren’t sure what you expected.

It’s not like you wanted to exclude Donnie.

You knew that pain too well.

You also didn’t want to make him feel unwelcomed.

You were painfully aware of that too.

He hadn’t wanted to be a third wheel and you had made it a silent mission to keep that from happening.

Something else you’d experienced in the past, you’d been the unwilling chaperone on more than one occasion just to satisfy parent’s minds. The good one, in their minds, you had always been ditched and the feeling wasn’t one you cared for. Shoving past the bygone era, you were seen now and you tried to relish that.

The sun’s attention was a fickle thing, but you were getting more use to losing Mikey’s. Something you thought should scare you, instead you felt your friendship with Mikey was stronger than ever. You no longer feared losing him in the same intangible way and you weren’t sure if you should crop that up to Mikey’s feelings about you. Instead it felt as though you’d reached a better status quo where Mikey’s running off felt more like the sun moving on its predetermined rotation. It would eventually round back to you and in that way you expected Mikey’s claustrophobia even if you hadn’t known about it.

You picked a room at random and rummaged through the duffel that you placed on your bed. There was a woodsy smell that teetered on musty in a way that spoke of it being well lived in even if its occupants only came every so often. You had your own little stand up mirror, nightstand, dresser, and a closet though you doubted you’d use anything past the first. Pulling out a single slick piece of black fabric, you double checked the door was closed before changing.

The perfect swimsuit was one you hadn’t imagined you’d find. Not one for flashy things, you only wanted a muted cover that also happened to cover you. Water did unimaginable things to fabrics and you hated the way it clinged. You wanted something you could disappear in, that brought no unnecessary attention, and could be forgotten on your end. Finding it in a matter of minutes into shopping as opposed to the years it took when you were younger, the item had even been on sale.

Stepping into it and pulling it up, you shimmied into the fabric and turned for that same show stopping image you’d seen in the changing room.

What stared back was an image of allure.

No.

That was wrong.

That’s not what it had looked like.

It had covered you.

It hadn’t accentuated anything.

It was simple.

You squirmed, changing angles in hopes that it would get better, but each only revealed more.

What had changed?

You’d purchased it this week.

Were you hallucinating?

Was there something in the wooden walls?

Had the tank crashed and this was you playing out some morbid purgatory?

You pinched yourself.

A sting bit your forearm and you threw your gaze back at the mirror for the unwilling shapes it concocted.

This wasn’t right.

You wanted to swim.

There was no way you could.

Miserably turning away from your image, you rooted through your bag for a cover up. Finding one in some oversized t-shirt you’d brought for comfort, you held it and hated that this wasn’t the way you imagined it would be employed. You figured it’d be a back-up pajama top and not something to hide your shame away in. Clinging to the fabric, you hastily pulled it over your head with an imaginary clock ticking away because Mikey was waiting.

You were ruining everything.

Stumbling out into the living room, you found yourself alone.

Momentarily thrown, but shaking off how Donnie wasn’t a priority right now and the guilt that came with that, you went for your pile of maps. Finding the trail one with the orange lines, you gathered some shoes and careened down the porch.

Buzzing insects mocked your sloppy descent as you rotated the map to be on your course. Following it more than your way, you took the necessary inlet and folded its winds to a drawn T. Bushes and trees concealed you, but the splashing of what was beyond reached your ears faster than you’d hoped. A journey not long to its destination, you slowed as you came to the final bend. You could hear Mikey blabbing presumably to himself as he hooted before resounding sloushes followed. In your mind he jumped off some kind of ledge, you took a deep breath before making the final steps leading to the watering hole.

Somewhere quaint if you had the perspective for such a thing, a tree towered comfortably overtop a sizable pool. One mucked up from algae as the little stream feeding into it didn’t stir the water near enough, you watched roiling green as Mikey emerged with a flip of his wet hair.

“Y/N!” Mikey shouted happiness. “You made it! Come on in! The water’s fine!!” He swam backwards as if giving you room.

The guilt was staggering.

No, Mikey.

I won’t be swimming today.

My body looks like shit and I can’t stand it.

I’ll watch you though.

Have all the fun.

You deserve it.

Signing off your name, you slunk forward only to clip a sight of mixed purples.

Donnie craned his neck back to view you from beneath a large sun hat he’d put on. Sitting on a few rocks that made up the closest edge to you, his lids lowered in a way that said he was reading you like a book.

Hating how he did that, you squeezed the bulky hem of your shirt and walked up. “Uh… M-Mikey…?”

“A-yup!” He stopped splashing to hear you better.

“The… um… car ride… sort of took… more out of me than… I thought? Would it be alright if-!”

“You don’t have to swim.”

You blinked wide and over to him.

“If you don’t want to, don’t!” Mikey continued on. “Let’s compare: are you upset I’m swimming when you don’t want to?”

“O-of c-course not!”

“Then why should I care in the reverse?” He fell back and floated, eyes closed, on his shell.

That was right in a way.

Sweet in another.

You wished you’d put together the same reaction.

Inching closer, it felt like pouring water into an overtaxed bucket.

Another guilty drop in your damnation.

You’d seen your friend in a bad light.

Shirking all the more, you toed off your shoes and let your feet lay flat on one of the worn rocks. It put you near Donnie who’d become the moon on a sunny day’s backdrop. He shined upon the same stone and illuminated its age. The rocks were older and wiser than you’d ever be. They never worried about getting wet. They only knew how to exist, something you wished came as easily to you. Sitting down because you needed more of you to drink from the stone’s wisdom, you kept a lowered head to the water’s edge. It sloshed in a beckoning way and you imagined it too would feel good in a different way.

You really had wanted to swim.

Imaging your tears would do little to fill up the pool while also overflowing it, you heard a tepid sigh beside you.

Eyes wide and shooting up across the pond, you then turned to where you’d sat down next to Donnie.

Someone who you mistakenly forgot about during your pity party.

How was that for a third wheel?

“It’s always something with you.” He spoke softly.

“Sure is.” You gave an awkward laugh.

“That’s…” He made a little concerned noise. “… I didn’t mean it in a cruel way.”

“You didn’t have to. It is.” You threw your legs off the rock and threatened to drown your toes in the water. “It’s a cruel fate. I’m…” You remembered yourself. “Sorry. Nothing. What are you doing here?”

“My species is aquatic.”

You snuck a glance. “You’re pretty dry then.”

“You are too.”

You frowned deeply and watched Mikey pick up a sun drunk grin as he spread his limbs out to float on. “I don’t know why I feel like this. Everything was fine before…”

“With what?”

“This…” You threw a hand over yourself. “Stupid ugly swimsuit.”

You could feel Donnie’s gaze linger.

“Just trust me.” You folded your legs against yourself.

“I’m not sure I do.”

You squinted at the glistening water before looking at him.

“I barely know you.” He responded simply, waiting there.

“Oh.”

“Disappointed?”

“In what?” Your ugly side was leaking far beyond the reach of what your shirt could cover. “I didn’t think you trusted me. You may have been wrong about me being bad, but that wouldn’t make you less suspicious. So it’s not that. What’s left? The swimsuit sucks. It’s not like you wanna drool over it. I don’t want anyone too. I wanted to swim.”

Hearing your wish aloud, you pressed hard on your chest with your legs.

You could flatten out your entire form if only you were malleable.

“The water is opaque. I can alert Mikey and we’ll turn away so you can get in.”

You felt too far gone for solutions.

You weren’t worth the trouble.

Burying your chin into your knees, you stewed.

“You know how many times the others have made fun of my board shorts?”

You told yourself you didn’t care.

If that was the case then Donnie didn’t either. “Hundreds, though it might be my attitude when wearing them. I like the excuse. To have my day off and not worry about pleasantries. To not have to tailor myself to others. I can tell them to shove it. It’s my day off and how I look isn’t anyone’s damn business.”

Sounded like an odd hill to die on.

“Everyone should have those days.” Donnie craned his arms behind him and leaned back to soak up the rays he was in.

The tree overhead was clipping your light.

Donnie was free.

Mikey was free.

Head lifting a little, you pondered your friend.

He’d needed to get out and he did.

Now he was a vision, glowing amongst the pool.

In contrast there was you, wadded up and tossed away without even giving yourself the chance.

Another terrible reminder that this was the point.

This was what you were trying to avoid.

This was what you were trying to learn from.

Mikey didn’t even have to do anything to be himself.

He just was.

Instead of his usual bustle of light, he shined by matter of existence.

That was why you chased him.

You wanted that.

Staring at him until sun spots mucked up your vision, you turned the mass to Donnie.

Beside you in the same pose, he was more calculated.

He had to put on his wares.

His was an unseen struggle you hadn’t considered.

No one gleamed quite like Mikey.

That didn’t mean they didn’t shine in their own right.

Donnie’s darkened scales only threw prisms in a different way.

The cool moon’s glow.

Letting your legs fall, this time your feet drew to the allure of the water.

Just out of reach, you stared hard, making sure the pair would keep their eyes closed.

The both of them were still as if asleep, but you waited past whatever insect was chirping before you slowly tugged your hem out from under you. Emerging without more than the sound of rustling fabric, you rolled your shirt up around your waist. The next move was one harder to conceal, you threw a desperate glance at your friend.

Water rocked the resting Mikey like a babe and you wanted to feel that too.

You wanted to be nestled by the sun’s glow.

You wanted to feel weightless and have those burdens removed.

You yanked the shirt over your head and dropped it to your side.

Donnie stirred at the sound, but didn’t open his eyes.

“It’s… It’s okay… I’m not… okay… but I think I… I don’t want to care…”

He cracked a lid and stared skyward.

“It looked so different in the store.”

“How so?” He asked a whispy cloud.

“It looked… I don’t know… covering? Like it didn’t… show any bits. Like it… hid them away.”

He blinked slow and comfortable. “I’m a designer, you know.”

“What?”

“Genius Built Apparel. Where fashion meets function.”

You stared on.

Of course he was.

He also built a tank and a legion of dusting robots.

If this were any other family you’d think he was pulling your leg.

You’d seen more than enough to believe.

Most of your stare came from the cocky name.

Though even that made sense.

Donnie was a carefully constructed sphere.

Who were you to take away his gloating?

He tilted his head just enough to glimpse your face. “I’m serious. I’ve dissuaded Mikey from many a faux pas.”

You shook your head.

“May I?”

“What?” You switched to eyeing him.

“I can take a clinical eye. Examine stitching. Find your err.”

You bounced one of your legs.

You did want to know where it had all gone wrong.

You could theoretically fix it then.

Wash this all away in the water you so desperately wanted to get in.

“You won’t make it weird?”

“I don’t drool on the metaphorical clock; you were right about that, but I understand your concern. I have accosted you before.”

“Different kind of weird. That was mean weird. You were a jerk weird.”

Donnie chuffed and it rolled down his plastron.

You watched it fall into his lap before forcing your gaze back to his face in a rush. “Promise… Promise I can pull your hat down if you… do anything.”

“I won’t so a simple enough agreement. Sure.”

“Go… ahead…” You folded your arms to your sides, obviously nervous as you listened to his clothes move.

In a twist, he was examining you and he gave a faint hum.

Not wanting to see exactly how he saw you and growing miserable, you stared into the water.

You could throw yourself in and be done with it.

“Here.” He spoke.

You moved to the sound on instinct and found him pointing to your hip.

His eye was indeed one you imagined a tired scientist gave the samples he was cursed to study.

You immediately relaxed. “What?”

“This ruching here is meant to cover cellulite when the fabric gets wet. When dry it acts a similar concealment, but the way the strips are sewn are for the first purpose.”

“Oh…” You tilted your head to look.

“Thing is, it’s also leading lines.” He didn’t get any closer, but he mimed tracing the seams of the fabric that curled around your hip and beneath where you were sitting. “It’s meant to direct the gaze to certain assets.”

You blew out an annoyed breath.

“Dressing room mirrors, where I imagine you first saw this, aren’t slapped on walls without thought. They're engineered with angles and lightning to make clothes look as flattering as possible.” He brought his eye to yours. “Where did you see yourself today?”

“There’s a… mirror in my room.”

Donnie’s lip twitched with distaste. “That floor length one?”

You nodded.

“Dad uses that one to feel tall.” He sneered openly. “It tilts up from below, the worst possible perspective.”

You blinked a few rapid times.

“It took the ruching and blew it up.”

“So it’s not… that bad?”

“It’s anything, it's tasteful!” He spoke with an irritation that said that should have been obvious. “It fits your body well. Does it have a certain allure? Yes, I’ve already spoken of assets, but it is not a piece that invites unnecessary solicitation.”

“Assets, assets. What are you, an ass man?” You retorted automatically.

“There is nothing quite like sinking your teeth into that soft, inviting flesh.” He took your response and held it between his teeth.

In a blink, you saw an imaginary Donatello around your hips pointing to the fabric and on contact with the thought your face exploded.

“I say generally speaking, of course.” He clicked his tongue as if scolding you and turned away toward the water.

Hot.

You were too hot.

Run.

Throwing yourself forward, you submerged as indelicately as possible into the water.

Sinking like a stone into the silence, your burning flesh was quickly soothed by a cold lap.

A sweet embrace, you kicked to the surface and emerged with a pathetic gasp.

Never graceful, you shook yourself free of clingy drops and spun back around to view the rocks.

Donnie was staring up at the sky again and you sort of hated him for it.

Swim.

You’d swim with Mikey.

Spinning around, the other turtle was not only longer floating, but you couldn’t locate him at all. Quickly worrying that you had toppled him in your dive, you swam forward. “Mikey?”

Quieting to listen, you didn’t hear anything past the faint roiling of the water against its container.

Thinking he must have dove, you looked down to find Donnie’s earlier comment to be a correct one. With the water murky to a fault and a new fear cropped up. You had no idea what was in the water and you immediately darted for the closest shore. Something several long feet from Donnie, it was a sort of marshy landing that rocks from below steeping up to meet. They were covered in a slime that clung to your feet and had you pausing until you heard an off-toned lap behind you.

You whirled around with wide eyes and found a sea monster waiting for you.

Something matted with algae, it groaned pathetically and you sucked in enough air until the balloon was full enough to scream.

“What!? Who?! Where?!” The creature splashed with Mikey’s voice.

He’d been captured by another mutant.

You turned to get out of the water with some intention of getting to the tank.

It had to have missiles or something.

Anything to help.

You’d take a bowling ball launcher at this point.

Catching grip with one foot, you hoisted up the other. The many rocks acted like a disjointed ladder and your entire torso emerged from the water before one of your feet slid. The moment it happened felt like you were falling out of time. In slow motion, you knew your face was one of surprise. You painted an open expression where the imminent terror that you were falling couldn’t catch up as neurons to save yourself from the action.

Your mind knew, but your face didn’t know that you were going to crack your head open on the rocks you just slipped on.

“Y/N!”

Two voices.

Too far.

Something skewered your side as the first injury of many.

Hoping only to black out on that first step, you willed your possessions to your friends.

You didn’t bother hoping they would remember you.

You only hoped that they could make some use out of your worldly imprint.

No matter how small it was.

Water rushed to greet you and shoved you away.

That wasn’t right.

That was the wrong direction.

Water swayed like waves.

The equal and opposite reaction wouldn’t come until you fell in.

Why had it preemptively come for you?

Your arms dangled heavily from gravity and you forced your eyes from wherever they had gone.

The monster was right in front of you.

Its face was one of Michelangelo.

Green sludge caught in his blackened locks and his worried expression peered out from between a small part.

He had you by the waist and was holding you up in the air. “Are you okay!?”

You were a loose toy strung up.

Flopping down, lifeless, you were a doll that couldn’t close its eyes until it was laid down.

A second deafening splash came as you hung there.

Mikey’s lips were moving awfully fast.

“Did they hit their head?!” Donnie’s voice broke through.

“No! Above water the whole time! Donnie! They aren’t saying anything, I don’t-”

“Shock?” Donnie wondered, but he never came into frame.

Where was he?

Mikey jostled you as one might bounce a colicky baby.

It was pulling a string on your back and you hacked on contact.

You wheezed, forcing air in where terror had torn it from you.

You fought.

Not Mikey exactly, but the situation.

It strung your arms back.

It shoved your torso forward.

It threw your head skyward.

You gasped, alive.

You saw blue.

It was the sky.

You hadn’t died.

Mikey had saved you.

Finally.

You came down from your arching to translate your joy.

Mikey’s face slid into your vision and he was the picture of a boiled red tomato dotted with summertime spots.

He was looking at you.

He had ogled you.

He was embarrassed.

Your blood pressure plummeted twice as fast as it had when you thought you were about to die.

This was worse.

This time you heard yourself scream as you lashed out.

Water flew up as if to welcome you, to bring you where you were meant to be.

Drowned.

Returned you to that place where you weren’t an object to be viewed.

You were a person floating free.

Liquid carried life.

It supported it.

It didn’t have it.

Vertigo struck you as you moved within a blink.

In a disorientated spiral, your lids fell heavy as your inner ear tried to correct the imbalance.

There were no longer hands around your waist.

Something clicked like an engine uselessly turning over.

Weary, you realized you were standing in a safe spot in the water.

You drew up the dreary blinds of your curtain and found a muscled arm thrown out protectively in front of you.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!!” Mikey cried, loud and desperate.

“What the hell was that then!?” Donnie’s voice rang close.

That firm limb tucked you further behind someone.

You were being shielded.

A squabble happened in front of you, but you only looked down at the jade appendage acting as your guard rail.

You touched the arm and it felt familiar.

“Don-nie?” Your voice came out synthetic.

His was the body you were behind and his face appeared in a whip of his head. “Are you alright? Can you swim? I’ll move.”

“I’m not…?” You weren’t swimming.

You weren’t doing anything.

You were standing in the water.

“What…?”

You looked past Donnie and glimpsed Mikey with a faint blush still stuck to his cheeks.

“Y-you…!” It felt accusatory on your lips.

“I’m sorry!!!” Mikey screeched.

“Turn around, dummy!” Donnie growled hot and was in motion.

You were soon ushered into a spin with an indelicate hand to your back and all but rushed over to the rock you had jumped off of.

You heard a splash of what you assumed was Mikey growing distant behind you.

You hoped that would cool him off.

“You ready?” Donnie’s voice appeared like it was newly there.

“For what?” You were already used.

What was left?

Was it time to take out the recycling?

“I’m going to lift you up. Your shirt is right there.” Donnie instructed.

“My shirt…” You were forlorn.

It was your back-up comfort item.

“Ready?” Donnie asked again.

The water rocked you and you barely bumped his firm plastron.

You nodded dumbly.

Your hips were taken in what you read as a clinical way.

You were barely bounced once, then twice, in a way that ballet dancers got momentum to lift their partners.

Sure enough, you were lifted cleanly out of the water.

Only this time you felt well handled.

You weren’t swung around like a toddler holding up their favorite doll.

A child who cared for his toys put you on a shelf.

When your knees touched down, you drank in the life of the rock and scrambled for your shirt.

All the things that had just occurred crashed into you.

Shoving your head through the hole, you yanked the shirt down your body as you were already in motion. Forest floor digging into your bare feet, you didn’t need the map to retrace your steps. You followed the single, winding, prickly path and emerged out by the cabin only to fly inside it. A sanctuary amongst the unrelenting woods, you left a rotting drip trail as you entered your room. Your door clattered from where you had thrown it open and you ripped your duffel bag to shreds to get to its confines.

Pulling on layer after layer, you could see Mikey’s blush with each piece of clothing.

He’d looked at you.

You shoved your feet into a third pair of socks.

His gaze was amorous.

Into a thermal that was very much against the season, you ran out of clothes and stormed the dresser.

Sexual.

There were oversized men’s clothes that struck you as maybe being Raph’s and you thanked their huge size.

You put shirt after shirt on.

Mikey had said, point blank, that he wanted to see how far his feelings went.

Why were you so stupid?

You screamed.

Raw and uncut.

Tearing at your larynx, you ripped a few too many layers off as they impeded your melt down.

You needed space to breathe.

You needed to be swallowed whole.

Stumbling out to that accursed mirror, the shape you found there was a frumpy one.

Smiling a teary look at it, you watched it warp your face into one of dismay and you cried.

Where had you last felt okay?

It wasn’t here.

Moving around the room you searched for it.

That intangible something that would help.

Knocking everything over, you finally got a hold of a much too large pillow and hugged it to your body.

It was large and not at all as firm as you wanted.

You needed a hard wall.

You needed that unrelenting nature.

You weren’t something to be judged with heat.

You needed a cold light the sun couldn’t supply.

The wall knocked.

You spun around with your pillow defense to find the back of a head waiting there.

“I come as an emissary.” Donnie spoke slow and methodical.

“You can-!” It wasn’t Mikey.

Your pillow fell slack into one hand.

It wasn’t Mikey.

You let it drop with a thump to the floor.

It wasn’t Mikey.

“…come in.”

You took a wobbly step to spread out your clothed legs in hopes of keeping yourself upright.

Donnie didn’t move.

“You can… come in…” You repeated, not sure if you had gotten the first phrase out.

“No.”

“No…?” You took another step and saw how Donnie was clearly beyond the boundary of your open door.

With his back to you.

Not impeding on you in any way.

“This is your space.” He spoke it like a finality.

You stared at the knot of his mask tails and tried to place what you felt.

“Being out here with us…” Donnie let the sentence hang before he lowered his gaze to the floor. “I want to… respect that much.”

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“I prefer the term ‘sanctum,’ but I couldn’t fit it in.”

“A sacred place…?”

The back of his head nodded. “My lab is supposed to be one.”

Sanctums weren’t places to be invaded.

If they were then they were violated.

He understood.

Is that what you felt?

Camaraderie?

Even his mania in the beginning had been one you made sense of.

Was that why you hadn’t complained?

No, you were rewriting history from your current perspective.

It was also the only one you knew.

It was one where you envied one man.

It was where you once feared another.

Now their roles were reversed.

You never had to explain your misery to Donnie.

You didn’t have to make him understand.

He was the moon.

You rushed towards him.

Donnie heard the footsteps and made it about half a turn before you reached him. “As… I was saying, I talked to Michael and come in his stead to-”

You collided with that unrelenting wall of plastron. Finding an odd hinge between the front of his shell and the back, you did your best to tuck into that space and weaseled under his arm. You felt it rise above you, out of your way and a rotation brought you more towards his front. There you felt him stop to take your over-clothed form in.

“I’m sorry!” You choked on tears, rooting the sound as deep against Donnie’s wet clothes as possible.

He let your misery hang for exactly one second.

Then he surrounded you in a soft moon glow.

He pulled you toward his chest and you burrowed closer to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I completely overreacted. It was just too much… Too much attention… the way he looked. He said… I thought he wouldn’t… I didn’t want…!”

A hand pet through the layers of your back.

Even and careful.

No further connotation other than to soothe.

Squirming to get your arms out from where you were crushing them, you wiggled them free to embrace him.

You squeezed a sigh right out of him.

“I know.” He spoke into your damp head. “I know…”

You nodded and basked in the tide. Pulled by the moon’s orbit, the waves rolled in and out with a sway. A gentle rocking, you were cast a comfortable drift by it. This was the one you had longed for from the swimming hole. Here, you floated amongst sturdy shores. Held safe, the guiding white light poured around you. One that pushed back against the darkness, it shone on you. Lucky to be in its reach, it wasn’t the type you soaked up. It instead washed over you in a cleanse. Feeling lighter and a little stifled, you extracted yourself from moisture to moisture.

Everything around you from your leaking face to the clingy pond water was soaked and you frowned down Donnie’s body. Standing in a little pool mostly created by him, you wanted to stick your tongue out at it, but you feared the bacteria clearly clinging to your skin.

“The cabin is yours tonight.”

Before you could register the words, you felt him strengthen his resolve with a puff of his chest.

“I don’t want to hear complaints otherwise.”

You wanted to pout.

“I checked the systems when we were doing our preliminary cleaning. The water will be hot. Shower, bathe, do whatever you’d like. We’ll be staying outside.”

You gave a faint nod to the wet floor.

“We’ll grill and I’ll make you a plate. Preference?”

You shook your head. “I don’t… feel like eating…”

“Bland it is.”

Now you were pouting.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Your head felt heavy.

“I still have a message from Mikey to deliver.”

“I really don’t want to hear it.” Irritation brought you to look at him.

Donnie took you in with a sort of smile. “You’ll want to.”

You dropped your features in a way that said you didn’t believe him.

“He said he’s not ready to talk as he’s having his own crisis, but he’ll let you know when he’s ready to apologize.” Donnie tilted his head, almost amused.

You blinked straight out of your bitterness to stare openly.

Donnie gave a single knowing nod.

“Enjoy your shower.” With one last sweep over you as if to check you were all still there, Donnie turned and headed for the door.

Watching him go, you saw the faint amber hue of sunset.

“It’ll all work out.” Donnie tossed just as he grabbed the knob to exit.

You turned and stormed straight to the bathroom. Drowning in clothes and scum, you locked the door tight and turned the shower knobs to their highest setting. Leaving the water to warm, you started removing your outermost shirt. As soon as it hit the ground you felt possessed. You tore off your clothes with each subsequent layer removed at a faster and faster pace. You needed to be freed. You needed that ridiculous protection off of you as soon as possible. All of it soiled, you stripped down bare and left your feet for last.

The moment they were naked and pressed to tile, you leapt into the old style tub. Instantly boiled by the too hot water, you let it scorch you with clenched teeth at first until the burn seared and you adjusted the dial for something reasonable. Still a lobster in a pot, you scrubbed your skin until you thought it might flake and then doused it in suds until you couldn’t see its color. A sea of white foam, the second scrounge came through, washing the detritus away.

Pickled in the process, you emerged and greedily took up every towel in the room. It meant toeing around the disgusting mound of clothes you’d left, but Donnie had said the cabin was yours. Until tomorrow when you’d clean the place up, you instead mourned how you hadn’t even brought your toothbrush in with you. Scowling at a fog coated mirror, you cracked the door and watched the steam leak out.

Chasing it with your ear, you didn’t hear anything, but there was a distinct lemon scent.

You followed the smell into the hall where you quickly placed it was cleaner. The floor had a sheen to it that spoke of a recent mopping. The clean line ending abruptly at your door said exactly who the culprit was. Donatello had snuck back in to clean and you were thankful for it. He’d left your sanctuary untouched and instead set a stool just outside the door.

On it was a stack of comfortable looking clothes and a note.

‘Keep your room or upgrade. I recommend the one upstairs, second bedroom on the right.’

You folded the note along its lines and placed it back on the offered clothes. You then gathered the lot and took it with you along with a brave face as you entered your room. You barely looked up as you salvaged what you could from your duffel. Carrying the mostly limp sack, you then moved to follow your recommendation. It led you through the darkened cabin and up the winding wooden stairs where the door in question was closed. Knocking on it out of politeness, you found it empty and slipped inside. It was decorated similarly, but clearly different. Comfortable in its own sense, you went about your nightly routine as best you could and thanked the space for not having a mirror. Growing more weary by the second, you thought vaguely of meat as you instead pulled back the covers.

Sinking in and imagining charcoal lighting the men’s faces, you settled down into the welcoming embrace of bed.

You eventually got up and padded across a tiled floor.

Pulling out a single slick piece of black fabric, you double checked the door was closed before changing.

The perfect swimsuit was one you hadn’t imagined you’d find.

What luck, you thought, as you slipped it on.

Stepping into it, you shimmied into the fabric and turned for that show stopping image in the changing room.

It was perfect.

It covered you in all the right ways.

Finally, the piece you’d been looking for.

Smiling and striking pose after pose, you saw a hand wave above the curtain.

“Come in!” You called to it.

Sanctum’s were only to be entered with permission.

“Silly.” You looked over your pleasing image once more. “Is it still a violation if I request it?”

“I guess not.” Instead of drawing the curtain back, Donnie slipped through it.

Tucking himself a strong wall behind you, he looked into the mirror at you.

What looked back held no heat, only appreciation.

“Do you like it?” He checked with you without passing judgment himself.

“I do…” You smiled.

He gave one of his own, though subdued, and flicked his gaze down. “Look here.”

You lowered your gaze to find him kneeling behind you. With his head popped out around your hips, he was looking up at you in a way you liked quite a bit.

You felt powerful.

You were a light bright enough for him to want to project.

“This ruching here has leading lines.” He didn’t touch you, but his hands ghosted over you along the fabric’s pattern.

Your lips parted and your chest filled with heat.

A celestial body was meant to look on.

You were safe.

“May I?” He asked you once again.

You were glad and responded with a breathless, “Please.”

His mouth opened a dark orbital maw, a new moon, which then glinted into a teeth-filled waxing crescent headed in its trek to sink into your soft flesh.

You jolted the moment the teeth supposedly hit their mark.

You stared into the dark abyss and saw drifting images of sharpened grins.

You were dizzy.

A sheen of sweat to you, you tossed back a cover.

The black hovel above you took shape as logs in the cabin ceiling.

They lined up like thick thighs appearing from where board shorts had hiked up.

Begging for a taste.

Awareness struck with a sharp inhale.

Fully awake and doused with dread from your dream, you voiced your despair with a whisper.

“Oh no…”

💛 NEXT 💛

I swear I handed this to my betas over a year ago... @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

#sunshinemoonshinefic #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #rise donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt Donnie #rottmnt Michelangelo #rise Michelangelo #Michelangelo hamato #rottmnt mikey #rise mikey #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #tw body dysmorphia

61 notes · View notes

carelisswriting · 11 months ago

Text

Late Night Hangout

Hey y'all, this is my fic for Ecto Implosion!!

my artist partner for this is @i-havenothingelsetopost and y'all should definitely check out them and the art they made for this fic!! Art's linked in the scene it directly inspired :)

Anyway, here's the fic!

It was weird, seeing Tucker in a hospital bed. The flowers and ‘Get Well Soon!’ card tried to soften the harsh blow, but it really didn’t work.

Danny didn’t like that Tucker was in the hospital.

(He really didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t even been allowed to see him, the first day.)

It made something in his chest hurt.

The thought of Tucker being injured.

It had been stupid.

So stupid.

A second too late, and now his best friend-

His best friend.

Tucker.

-was hurt.

Danny should’ve been quicker, should’ve been-

“Hey.”

Danny shook his head, coming back to reality instead of being lost in his own thoughts.

Sam gave him a worried look from the other side of Tucker’s bed, as Tucker chewed on his lip.

“It wasn’t your fault, Danny.” Tucker said, always seeming to know what Danny was worried about.

It was though, it was.

It had just been a regular ghost attack, Johnny, Shadow, and Kitty causing problems on one of their ‘dates’. Danny had almost been having fun chasing them down, but-

But he hadn’t realized that Skulker was also causing havoc.

Hadn’t realized that Tucker had been dealing with him alone, Sam was with Danny-

Hadn’t realized that Skulker threw Tucker into a wall-

(Danny felt it, when Tucker got hurt.)

(Skulker hadn’t had a good time, after that.)

“Danny, snap out of it!” Tucker said, sounding annoyed.

He focused back onto Tucker, who had a frown on his face.

“How many times do I have to say it’s not your fault? I’m the one who tried to face Skulker without any backup or powers.”

There was a slight note of self-deprecation to Tucker’s voice, which Danny couldn’t let stand.

Neither could Sam, as it happened.

“It was stupid, but you could’ve beat him if you had some of your tech with you, Tucker.” Sam said, glaring lightly at one of her best friends.

Danny nodded in agreement, before adding “Besides, you know that you’re not a good match against Skulker! If it was Technus, you would’ve had him!”

Tucker leaned back against the pillow, giving a harsh sigh.

“Yeah, but I left everything except Janet at home, like an idiot. And now I’m in the hospital for the next three days, for ‘observation’.”

“C’mon Tuck, it won’t be that bad.” Danny said, trying to cheer him up.

Tucker rolled his eyes.

“It will. You know how much I hate hospitals.”

Danny did know.

Tucker had despised them ever since his grandfather died. He had hated watching as the man slowly died of cancer, but still went to visit him all he could despite it.

Danny had tried so, so hard to be there for Tucker during that.

Tucker said it’d helped a lot.

Sam grabbed Tucker’s hand.

“We’ll come visit you every day, okay?”

Tucker nodded “I know. And thanks.”

Danny grabbed Tucker’s other hand, completing their little chain.

“Yeah, and I’ll bring you all the homework you miss.”

Tucker laughed at that.

“More like you’ll come pester me about helping you with it!”

Danny laughed along.

He would definitely come annoy Tucker into helping him with homework.

(Not that Tucker would mind.)

A nurse ducked his head into the room, calling out “Visiting hours are ending!” before quickly moving onto the next room.

Tucker, Sam and Danny sighed as one, before looking at each other and giggling.

“I’ll see you two losers tomorrow.” Sam said, before grabbing her backpack.

Danny smiled at Tucker.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

\(oo)/

Danny was woken up by a ding! From his phone.

He groaned at seeing that it was still dark out.

Who the heck was texting him-

Oh.

It was Tucker.

Also, it was 2 AM.

Danny opened up the text message.

‘hey can u come hang with me? i can’t sleep’

Danny frowned, before replying.

‘yeah np, be there in a few’

He hated that Tucker had to be in the hospital overnight.

Danny shoved his phone into his backpack, along with his homework.

The teacher was gonna give Danny Tucker’s makeup work for today (well, technically yesterday) tomorrow, but Tuck would appreciate seeing it beforehand.

Also, then Danny could get him to explain what the heck their biology teacher was talking about.

(Danny did not like biology. At all.)

(At least living biology.)

(Ghost biology was way more of his thing.)

He transformed, rings of light traveling over him, before grabbing his backpack and darting out his window.

\(oo)/

Danny hovered outside of the hospital, trying to figure out which room was Tucker’s.

It was not easy to tell which was which from the outside, all of them looking the same.

At least he knew what floor it was on?

He flew closer to one of the windows, peeking inside to see if it was Tucker.

It wasn’t.

A small child, maybe 7? Looked out at him with an expression of glee on their tiny face.

He could see the kid practically vibrating as they looked at him.

He smiled at them, before holding up a finger to his lips in the universal sign for ‘shh’.

The kid bobbed their head up and down, before miming locking their lips and throwing away the key, then they held their hands up in the shape of a heart.

That was adorable, who’d taught them that?

Phantom smiled, and made a thin layer of ice on the window in the shape of a tiny blob ghost, with a small heart next to it.

It shouldn’t melt for at least a day.

He really hoped the kid liked it.

He looked back at them, seeing that their eyes were full of stars, their mouth open in awe.

Well, guess that answered whether they liked it.

Phantom waved goodbye at the kid, before flying towards the next window.

(Meanwhile, Sammy was so excited to tell their mom about this in the morning. Phantom had come to see them!!! This made being in the hospital totally worth it. He was the absolute coolest hero, even if Sammy’s mom thought he looked a bit creepy. Sammy didn’t think he did, but that was what their mom said every time Phantom came up. Sammy didn’t care though. Phantom was the best hero.)

He finally managed to find the right window after a minute more of peeking into windows, seeing Tucker sitting on his bed, messing with his PDA.

Danny floated through the window, before peeking over Tucker’s shoulder.

He was coding something, though Danny could not for the life of him tell what.

(Tucker had tried to teach Danny coding basics once. It did not go well. He kept forgetting semicolons were a thing that existed.)

Tucker didn’t even startle at Danny’s sudden appearance, far too used to his best friend’s antics by now.

“Thanks for coming dude.” Tucker said, eyes still focused on the code.

“Don’t worry about it, Tuck.” Danny said, floating over to sit next to Tucker’s bed.

Well, not next to Tucker’s bed, exactly.

More like floating in the air in a sitting position next to it, really.

Tucker finished whatever it was he had been doing, setting down his PDA on the nightstand.

He turned to smile at Danny “Not everyone would show up at 2 in the morning to comfort their friend.”

Danny shrugged, trying to pretend that he wasn’t ever not going to show up when Tucker asked.

“Really, it’s not like I had anything better to do.”

Tucker laughed, a low sound as he tried to keep his voice down.

“That’s fair. It’s not like you were working on homework.”

“Well….” Danny said, drawing out the word as he set the backpack down.

Tucker smiled, fond and exasperated.

“What is it now?”

Danny pouted, flipping upside down in the air.

“Normal biology makes no sense and is the bane of my existence.”

Tucker rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that bad.”

Danny gave Tucker his best pleading look.

“C’mon, please?”

Tucker sighed “Fine, but Danny, you just have to remember-“

Tucker launched into a ramble about their current biology assignment, and Danny flipped right side up, trying his best to listen.

It was strange, how much of this Tucker had managed to memorize.

Some of Sam’s rants must’ve stuck in his brain.

(Or maybe Tucker just really liked learning about animal life cycles.)

Danny, meanwhile, tended to just tune Sam out.

And also Tucker, he realized.

He had no clue what he had been saying.

Tucker paused for a moment, seeing Danny looking completely lost.

“Look just- Give me the book, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Danny grabbed his biology textbook, handing it over to Tucker.

Tucker flipped it open, motioning for Danny to give him a pencil.

Danny smiled at how sure Tucker was that Danny would give him a pencil without him asking.

Of course, Danny did give him it almost immediately.

“So, if you see here-“

Danny crossed his legs, floating a little over the edge of the bed as he listened to Tucker.

(Who was really cute when he was explaining something- no don’t go there.)

\(oo)/

It took an hour, but Tucker had finally managed to explain the concepts used on the assignment well enough that Danny was pretty sure he wouldn’t fail.

So, that was good.

Tucker closed the textbook, handing it over to Danny.

“Thanks Tuck. I probably won’t fail it.”

Tucker snorted “You definitely won’t fail it. Or at least if you do, it won’t be my fault.”

Danny rolled his eyes.

He flipped around, laying in the air as he looked at Tucker.

“You’re okay, right? I know that you hate hospitals but I just wanted to check because-“

“I’m fine, Danny. Hospitals suck, I hate being here, but I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” Tucker said, cutting him off.

Danny turned away, looking at the visiting hours sheet on the wall instead of at Tucker.

“I don’t- It’s my fault, though.”

He heard Tucker sigh.

“Danny. It wasn’t your fault that I got hurt, okay? It was mine. I shouldn’t have gone out alone, especially against Skulker.”

Danny could hear the self-deprecation in Tucker’s voice.

Again.

Danny hated it when he did that, acted like he wasn’t worth it, wasn’t capable, just because he didn’t have powers.

He twisted back around to glare at Tucker, his annoyance overtaking his guilt.

“Tuck, it’s not your fault! And don’t talk like that! You’re my best friend, and you’re awesome! With or without powers.”

Tucker smiled, and Danny realized that Tucker had been trying to get him to look at him.

Danny rolled his eyes, but didn’t turn back around.

“Look, how about we agree that it’s neither of our faults, and neither of us need to feel bad about it?” Tucker said.

Danny sighed, but nodded.

“Yeah, that’s… that’s fair.”

Tucker beamed, before grabbing Danny’s hand and tugging him into a hug. Danny went with the motion, not bothering to fight it.

Tucker’s hugs were great.

They stayed there for a moment, before Tucker let Danny go, a smile on his face.

Danny floated away slightly, hovering on his back, before flipping his head upside down to look at Tucker with a grin.

And then he heard the door open behind him.

Oh crap-

He twisted up, moving his torso in way that wasn’t exactly something humans could do, seeing that there was a nurse standing there.

She had a look of shock on her face, a hand brought up to her mouth.

Danny went invisible.

Damn, he really hoped Tucker could cover for this.

It would be a nightmare if Danny’s parents got called.

Danny darted into the corner, not wanting to deal with the nurse accidentally walking through him if she went over to Tucker’s bed.

(It was a disconcerting feeling, someone passing through him when he was a ghost. Not for him, really, he barely noticed, but Sam and Tucker had told him that it felt like there were invisible fingers trailing over their skin, when they’d tested it out.)

The nurse stood there a moment more, frozen in her surprise.

Danny saw Tucker cringe slightly.

“Um, hey? What’s up?”

The nurse shook her head, before saying hesitantly “I, you didn’t see anything?”

Tucker grabbed his PDA from the nightstand, fiddling with it.

“Nope, nothing. Who- What would even be there?”

He was not a good liar.

Danny sighed, just slightly.

The nurse turned towards the sound, but just shook her head again.

“Nothing, I don’t know. I thought I saw something. Don’t worry about it.”

A bright smile came on her face, obviously practiced for dealing with patients.

“So, any issues? Any pain? We’re still on the lookout for any internal bleeding.” She said as she picked up Tucker’s chart, looking at something on it.

Tucker flipped over his PDA, his fingers twitching like he wanted to start typing something.

“I’ve been okay, just couldn’t sleep.”

The nurse glanced up at him.

“Do you want some melatonin? It can’t mess up any of the blood thinners, antibiotics, or pain meds we’ve got you on, and it’ll help you sleep.”

Danny’s eyes widened.

Blood thinners? Danny hadn’t realized that they’d put Tucker on anything like that.

He’d figured that he’d be on antibiotics and pain meds, but blood thinners?

Why was he on blood thinners?

Weren’t those for when someone got surgery-

Tucker shrugged.

“I mean, sure? I might not take it right away.”

The nurse nodded, her smile still fixed on her face.

“Okay, I’ll bring that in for you.”

She stepped outside the room, and Danny followed her.

He was curious, and also-

Tucker was on blood thinners, apparently.

And hadn’t told Danny.

Had his injuries been more serious than he’d said? He’d insisted it was just some bruising, that they were being overcautious with the observation.

Danny poked his head through the wall, watching as the nurse leaned against the wall, holding a hand to her chest.

Oh. He’d really scared her.

She was mumbling under her breath.

“It was nothing Kate, you don’t need to freak out about it, of course there wasn’t a ghost in your patient’s room at 3 AM, that would be ridiculous-“

She continued to mutter to herself, before pushing off the wall and walking down the hallway.

Danny felt pretty bad about scaring her, but he couldn’t exactly apologize.

…Maybe he should just, leave her something nice?

He looked over to the nurse’s station.

He drifted over.

It was full of papers, patient charts and schedules and a bunch of stuff that looked way too medical-y for Danny to want to deal with.

He bit his lip, thinking.

Maybe she’d just like a flower?

Girls liked flowers.

Danny carefully formed a flower out of ice, one that looks kinda like a daisy maybe?

Danny was better at remembering what flowers looked like than what they were called.

(Also, he wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t a ghost flower.)

(Again, he was better at remembering what they looked like than what they were called, or where he found them.)

Satisfied with his small apology, Danny ducked back through the wall into Tucker’s room.

And then he remembered, oh right, Tucker, maybe, was lying about his injuries.

Tucker was typing something on his PDA, but he looked up when Danny came back into the room.

Danny was still invisible, but Tucker and Sam had figured out that when he entered a room, even if he was invisible, the temperature dropped slightly.

No one else had noticed that yet, but Tucker thought it was great, since it meant he knew where Danny was.

Danny did not think that it was great right now.

“Dude, what were you even doing?” Tucker said, putting down his PDA.

Danny faded back into visibility, trying to keep his face blank, or at least close to it.

“I was checking on the nurse. I scared her a lot, Tuck.”

Tucker grimaced.

“Yeah, but you knew what you look like when you’re in shadow.”

Danny did.

Apparently, something about low light made him look more ghostlike, stretching out his proportions and blurring his features. He never noticed it, but Tucker had tried to describe it to him as best as he could.

Sam had grinned and said that he looked awesome, like he was from a horror movie.

(Danny hadn’t liked that description. He didn’t want to be scary.)

(Sam hadn’t said it again.)

“Also, your eyes were reflecting the light, like a cat or something.” Tucker added, drawing Danny’s attention back to him.

Danny frowned.

“They were? That’s new.”

Tucker shrugged.

“Looked cool, though.”

It probably had.

“I gave her an ice flower, the nurse I mean. I wanted to aplogize.” Danny said.

Tucker grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’ve got a crush-“

Danny groaned.

“Tuck, seriously, you do not have to say that anytime I give a girl anything.”

Tucker laughed.

“I know, but your reactions are so funny.”

Danny sighed.

He knew that he needed to stop reacting, if he actually wanted Tucker to stop.

But it got under his skin, when Tucker teased him about having crushes on girls.

(Danny tried not to think about why that was.)

He floated closer to Tucker’s bed, a small frown on his face.

The nurse would probably be back soon.

But Danny really wanted to know what was happening with Tucker’s injuries.

“Tuck, why are you on blood thinners?”

Tucker looked away, all of the humor gone.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

Danny huffed.

“What do you mean? Just tell me!”

Tucker sighed, before looking pleadingly at Danny.

“Don’t freak out, but I had surgery. That’s why I’m on blood thinners.”

Danny reeled back.

Tucker had surgery?

His injuries had been bad enough for that?

(Danny had failed that badly?)

“You- you were that hurt?” Danny asked, his voice wavering.

Tucker got a look of panic on his face.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! Danny I swear, it was almost nothing, they just had to fix some internal bleeding-“

“You had internal bleeding?” Danny screeched.

Tucker nodded hesitantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Danny asked, hurt in his voice.

Had Tucker been mad at him for failing to protect him-?

“I didn’t want you to worry, it wasn’t as bad as it sounds-“

The door opened.

Danny went invisible almost immediately this time, not wanting to scare the nurse again.

She looked less freaked out, a smile fixed on her face.

“Here’s that melatonin, sorry that it took me so long to get.”

She handed Tucker a small cup, two pills in it.

“Once you take those, it should be easier for you to fall asleep.”

Tucker nodded, giving her a small smile.

“Thanks.”

He glanced to the corner Danny was in, as the nurse did one last check of his vitals.

Danny sighed almost silently from his corner.

He’d failed, he’d let Tucker get hurt-

Tucker hadn’t told him.

The nurse left, telling Tucker to go to sleep as she did.

Danny faded back into visibility, his face downcast.

Tucker sighed at his expression.

“Danny, I didn’t want you to worry-“

“Tell me next time.” Danny said pleadingly, desperately.

If he didn’t know when he’d failed, he couldn’t try to make sure it didn’t happen again.

Tucker shook his head, not in denial but in exasperation.

“Okay. I’ll tell you next time.”

Danny felt relief travel through him, settling something in his core.

He needed to know when Tucker, or Sam, got hurt.

He needed to make sure it didn’t happen again.

Danny floated forward, before hugging Tucker.

Tucker rolled his eyes, leaning into the hug.

“Is this some ghost thing? Feels like a ghost thing.”

Danny laughed, rolling his eyes right back at Tucker.

“Really, it’s a ghost thing to care about my friends now-?”

Tucker shoved lightly at Danny, humor in his face.

“Shut up, you know what I mean-“

Danny grinned, leaning back, still floating in front of Tucker.

“It’s not a ghost thing, Tuck. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Tucker smiled softly at Danny at the sentiment behind his words.

Danny looked away, feeling his face heat up.

Tucker laughed slightly at Danny’s apparent embarrassment.

(It wasn’t embarrassment. He just couldn’t handle Tucker smiling at him like that, it was so full of love-)

Danny looked back at him, seeing Tucker grinning at him.

He crossed his arms with a huff, dramatic and insincere.

“You don’t have to annoying about it-“

Tucker cut him off with another laugh, before he looked over to his PDA, seeing the time.

He sighed.

Danny glanced over as well, seeing that it was almost 4 AM.

He needed to get home, heck-

His mom was always up at six, and she checked on Danny and Jazz at the same time.

And Danny would really like to get some more sleep before he was inevitably woken up by his mom checking on him.

He looked back to Tucker, an apologetic look on his face.

“I gotta go, sorry-“

Tucker waved him off.

“No worries. Thanks for coming to hang out.”

Danny smiled, about to grab his bag-

And then he had a very impulsive thought.

He wavered for a moment.

Before deciding, yeah, it’s worth it.

He leaned forward, giving Tucker a kiss on the cheek.

Tucker looked at him in complete surprise.

Danny smiled softly at him, and Tucker blushed.

(Ha, sweet revenge.)

Danny felt all of his sudden confidence leave him in moments.

He’d actually just done that, Ancients-

He darted away, grabbing his bag quickly.

“So uh, yeah no problem, I’ll see you at school-!” Danny said in a rush, before flying out of the window.

He was halfway to his house before he remembered that no, he wouldn’t see Tucker at school, because Tucker was still gonna be in the hospital for a few more days.

He was such a mess.

He couldn’t believe he’d just done that, kissed Tucker on the cheek.

(He wished he could do it again.)

\(oo)/

Tucker watched as Danny flew away.

He held a hand to his cheek.

His best friend had just kissed him.

On the cheek, but still.

He’d kissed Tucker.

A soft smile came onto his face.

If Danny felt the same-

Oh, Tucker was so going to flirt with him when he came back in the morning.

Danny wasn’t gonna know what hit him.

He took the melatonin pills, laying down to wait for the sleepiness to hit him.

Tucker grinned to himself.

This was going to be fun.

And maybe he’d get a boyfriend out of it.

A man could dream.

#danny phantom #savant par #my writing #ectoimplosion2023 #tucker foley #fanfiction

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toomuchracket · 4 months ago

Text

late night talking (sweetheart!george x reader smut)

calling it smut is lowkey misleading, but it's definitely extremely very sexy. day 7 of summer75, set in the weird tentative dating era after you and george reunite. enjoy <3

you're in bed when your phone buzzes beside you, cocooned in blankets while watching a third consecutive episode of drag race; when you see the caller ID, you extract your arms as fast as you can, one hand scrambling to mute snatch game while you answer the call with the other, smile surely audible. “hi, george.”

“hi, angel,” comes the reply, the always-devastating combo of gravel voice and pet name awakening the butterflies in your stomach. fuck, you've missed him. “how was work?”

“was okay. busy.”

“you're settling in alright, though, yeah? nobody giving you grief?”

“yeah, everyone’s nice. how was your day?”

“busy, too. really busy, actually,” george sighs. “still found time to miss you, though.”

you smile. “i missed you too, babe.”

“missed you calling me that and all,” he giggles after he speaks, the same stupidly high laugh that's always made your heart feel funny. “sorry for how uncool i'm being, by the way. i know we said we'd be cool about everything, about us, but…”

“s'alright. i get it,” you reply, not unkindly, because you do get it, you understand completely. choosing not to rush back into a relationship seemed like the sensible thing for you and george to do after four years and a few countries apart, but it's proving to be much more difficult in practice; he is your first (and honestly only) love, after all, and you never could resist that voice. or those eyes. or those lips, actually - the first time you kissed him again recently (just a normal smooch, mind you), you almost swooned. like, actually swooned, proper virgin behaviour. “feel like a teenager all over again with you, to be honest.”

“so do i, baby - can i call you that, or-?”

jesus. you hope you don't sound too breathlessly desperate. “of course.”

“thanks, baby,” the grin on george's face is obvious, and yours widens even more as you wriggle further out of your blanket cocoon and roll onto your stomach. “but yeah, i genuinely do feel like i'm seventeen again…”

“good film, that.”

“knew that was coming as soon as i said it,” he sighs down the phone, before joining in with your giggling. “genuinely, though, angel - feel like it's still 2007, because all i can think about is kissing you. m'serious. can't get anything done.”

you kick your legs back and forth, overjoyed to hear him admit he feels the same as you. still, you don't miss the opportunity to take the piss out of him. “jesus, it's the new gucci perfume fiasco all over again.”

“christ, don't remind me of that,” george groans, voice slightly muffled by what you know is him facepalming, dragging his hand down his face slowly; he's a creature of habit, your… well, your george. “thought i’d died and gone to heaven when i got a whiff of it the day we ran into each other in the shop, when we first saw each other again.”

“shut up.”

“m'not kidding, baby. driven me mental since day one, that perfume.”

you rest your head on your folded arms, wistful. “i remember. you walking into the art classroom door because you were that distracted trying to lean over and smell me? how could i forget?”

“yeah, well, it had its benefits too, that day,” george retorts. “if i recall correctly, it motivated me to get all my homework done quickly so i could kiss you, no?”

“that's true,” you allow yourself to briefly get lost in the memory, so strong you swear you can feel the shitty bic pen in your hand now. the flashback progresses to a scene you almost wore out repeating at the time, the workbooks and pencilcases shoved off the bed, and school uniforms following as you and george took advantage of having his house to yourself that monday afternoon. despite not having even discussed doing that with george in the modern version of your relationship yet, the mention of that after-school activity leaves your lips before you realise. “and if i recall correctly, we did a lot more than kiss that night.”

there's silence from the other end of the phone line. a very particular, pregnant type of silence, one that you intuitively know will end with something pivotal to you and george's relationship; despite this make or break moment, you keep quiet, not wanting to make it worse by fumbling an apology or explanation, even though you've got a growing sense of creeping dread that you might've just fucked the whole dynamic up beyond repair already.

and then he speaks, and you can exhale again. “i think about that a lot, you know.”

the atmosphere shifts again - it's still one of anticipation, but of the more… sensual variety, you'd say. heart pounding against your sternum, you wriggle out of the blankets completely, clicking the tv off so you can give george your complete, undivided attention. “yeah?”

“yeah. that night, and my eighteenth, and your eighteenth. prom, and all our holidays, and christening your uni flat,” george hums, giggling after he's done listing. “just any time we fucked, really.”

“you miss it?”

he sighs. “a lot.”

“so do i,” you say softly. “i really miss… no,” you close your mouth, shaking your head. “i can't say it. not yet. s'inappropriate.”

“baby,” there's a hint of forcefulness in george's voice, and it goes straight to your already-slick core. “tell me, please. wanna hear you.”

fuck. you really have missed him.

you sigh. “you're sure you wanna do this?”

“angel, i've never been more sure of anything,” george replies, and you know he means it. “talk to me.”

“alright,” you can't help smiling, both at george and the memory. “was gonna say that i really miss the way you would hold me after we both came, you know? you'd just wrap your whole body around me and kiss my neck, and i'd just feel, y'know, so safe, and happy,” you pause, then grin. “i mean, i miss the actual sex too, of course, but…”

he laughs, and your heart flutters. “i miss that too, the post-shag hugging. you're cute, y'know, baby - thought you were about to say something filthy, honestly.”

you twirl a strand of hair around your finger, flirty. “well, if you want me to be dirty, g, i can. can be whatever you want me to be.”

george groans. “don't fuck me about, angel.”

“m'not!” you decide to be proper serious for a second. “i just want to make you feel good, george. i miss doing that. i miss you,” you bite your lip, releasing it slowly in a poor imitation of the man at the other end of the phone line. “and i want you. i really, really want you.”

another brief silence, then he replies. “how do you want me?”

you smirk. “you tell me. like i said, sweetheart, whatever - and however - you want me to be… i'll do it.”

“well, in that case,” god, his voice. “i want you to come over. right now. how does that sound?”

“perfect,” you aren't lying. “is there anything else you want me to do?”

“be my girlfriend again, but we can discuss that when you get here, yeah?”

you beam, kicking your legs excitedly. finally. “yeah. alright,” you roll out of bed and make a beeline for your lingerie collection. “i'll be over as soon as i get changed, babe.”

“please be quick,” george sighs. “oh, a final thing, baby?”

“yeah?”

the smirk on his face is crystal clear. “bring a vibrator.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fanfic #george daniel fic #george daniel smut #george x reader #george daniel x reader #sweetheart!george #summer75

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ashensgrotto · 11 months ago

Text

Never Had a Friend (like Me) - Part 1

Original art piece by pfbatakopd on twitter (Used only for Header. Do NOT REPOST ORIGINAL ART)

Part 1 (You Are Here) Part 2 Part 3

YandereSoulmate! AU:

Part 1 (Am I Feeling Love?)

Part 2 (Protective)

Part 3A & Part 3B (Poor Unfortunate Souls)

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto X F!Reader

Word Count: 9,105

Synopsis: A chance for redemption comes in the form of a wish…

Author’s Notes: Ok, here we go. I received an anonymous message in my inbox for the next part of the Yandere!Soulmate series and I was actually going to work on it - but with the arrival of GloMas, working on the next part of ‘Raison D’être,’ wanting to finish “Weren’t You Aware, Angelfish?”, AND the holidays, time got away from me and I forgot about Scarabia’s segment for a short while.

However, because you all seem to enjoy this and want to know if the tako has redeemed himself - I figured I would work to get this part done. Now, warning - Pompefiore’s part is going to take a bit of time to complete because I will have to wiggle my way through my memory bank and replay a few parts of it (which is approx 76 chapters in length for those players who haven’t made it that far into the game yet) since I’m working so deep into Ignihyde’s chapter right now (which is a doozy - I’m still in chapter 67-tower 1, oof help).

This one is also going to be split into three parts - I promise it will not be a long wait for the second & third parts as this is my Christmas gift to all of my readers <3

Thank you all for your continued support!

Warnings are as follows: yandere behaviors, manipulation, imprisonment, & hypnosis

***

I’m in the mood, to help you dude

You ain’t never had a friend like me.

***

It had been weeks since the last overblot incident… and just as long since Azul last saw you.

He sat in his office, looking over paperwork for the last quarter and rubbing his brow with worry.

The profits had started to steadily decrease following his overblot, causing the Monstro Lounge to slowly suffer the loss, like an infection slowly eating away a mer’s life. He had no one really to blame but himself for that… Azul had lost control, let his obsession get out of hand and had hurt the people closest to him.

Jade… Floyd… you.

Azul let out another large sigh and set the report down, taking his glasses off and rubbing his face. He had considered going back to the Coral Sea for holiday, but was unable to due to two reasons; one, the ice floes would’ve made the journey too dangerous to travel alone - especially since Jade and Floyd had already prepared to stay at NRC for the holidays, and two… you were still here.

Not in Octavinelle where Azul had wanted you to be, but in a rundown shack on the school property.

The building had been a dorm, once upon a time, but ghosts had moved in and scared the students to the point that the building was deemed ‘unsafe.’ However, with your charms and personality, the ghosts were easily persuaded and welcomed you in with open arms - though Azul had a sneaky suspicion that both the headwardens of Savanaclaw and Heartslabyul had likely persuaded the otherworldly spirits in exchange for access to both of their dorms. Regardless, with you no longer in Octavinelle and now at the mercy of the headmage’s “generous” nature, Azul could only watch from the shadows as you now tended to the school property in a janitorial role.

Azul leaned back in his chair, his thoughts plagued by you before an obnoxious ringing noise filled the office.

He grumbled, picking the phone up, “Monstor Lounge, this is Azul speaking.”

“Hello baby, how are you?” the familiar voice of his mother on the other end made Azul jump in surprise.

“Mother,” Azul coughed, “Hello - I apologize I hadn’t had a chance to call you. We’ve been busy lately.”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” his mother answered, “It’s been busy here too… but everything’s been calming down since the ice floes came - though I was surprised to see your letter that you were considering coming home for the holidays.”

‘Shit…’ Azul had completely forgotten about that - when (Y/N) had lived in the Octavinelle at the beginning of the year, Azul had entertained the idea of potentially inviting her to his home for the holiday, slowly and suringly getting her accustomed to the idea of staying with him - although it would prove to be a difficult task, especially now.

“However, I’m assuming that you changed plans at the last minute,” his mother continued.

“Y-yes, I was indeed planning on coming… however, Jade and Floyd both decided to stay behind so I chose to stay as well,” Azul answered, the lie slipping easily off his silver tongue, “Someone has to keep those two in line, after all.”

His mother snickered, “Don’t be saying that in front of their father though. Sevens knows what the moray will do if you say anything like that.”

Azul nodded, clearing his throat, “Um, well… What's going on with you, then? The restaurant still alright? How’s Finn?”

“Finn’s well - busy as always,” his mother answered, “Business has been getting better - hired several new staff members as well… a few sweet mers around your age, Zully.”

Azul rolled his eyes, “Mother… we’ve had this talk. I’m… not interested.”

“You might not be, but it will happen one day,” his mother’s voice was calm and soothing before she sighed on the end of the phone, “However… I have a sneaky feeling that you’re still upset about what I told you all those years ago.”

Azul bit his lip, answering, “Of course not… Soulmates? That’s ridiculous.”

“Azul…” his mother’s voice turned into a scolding tone, “There are plenty of fish out there - I know you’re still pretty young to be thinking about it, considering a mer’s life is longer than most, but shorter than a fae’s… but I only want you to be happy.”

“I am, mother,” Azul tried to smile, “I’m content where I am - I’ve gotten stronger, my business is growing, and… I’ve learned so much.”

“Perhaps, but allow me to give you a little insight - it’s something I learned long ago,” his mother prompted, “Happiness, though may be defined as ‘the state of joy or contentment,’ is typically filled by three main parts of life; success, dedication, and personal. Dedication and success go hand in hand with each other - if you work hard and are dedicated, you achieve success - even if the tasks prove to be difficult to the point that you might fail over and over again. Personal can mean time for yourself - spending time with your hobbies or doing what you love… spending time with those you care about even.”

Azul listened to his mother’s words, thinking.

“I know that you are successful and you’re dedicated,” his mother continued, “But you won’t achieve happiness if you just focus on those two things - take time for yourself now and again, look for stronger connections within your friendships… and look for someone that will want to support you and you support them.”

“I… I think I understand…” Azul answered, “I’ll… take your words into consideration.”

“I hope so - your grandmother taught me that when I was still a little octo fry many years ago,” his mother answered, a teasing tone caught in her voice.

Azul couldn’t help but smile, “Yes… Nanna always did know what was best.”

“Yes, she did, still does even… Well, I should probably let you go, then - you have a lot of stuff going on there,” his mother let out a sigh, “Just remember… I love you, baby. Merry Christmas.”

“I love you too… momma. Merry Christmas and I’ll see you at the end of the year.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Zully. Stay safe.”

Azul smiled and hung the phone up, sitting back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling.

“Finding that so-called ‘other half’ is like - well - like the story of the mermaid princess and her longing to be with a human. It’s a rare occurrence that only happens once in a millennium if not longer. Anyone can be happy with or without their soulmate, Azul. There’s no reason you should go to such lengths to be with someone who may not even exist…”

Azul shook his head at the memory of that day years ago - he wanted to forget… but sevens knows he couldn’t forget you.

A sudden loud crash had Azul bolting upright, his features twisting in annoyance. As far as he knew, the only ones in the lounge were Jade and Floyd… which could only mean one thing.

Trouble.

“Those two morons…” Azul gritted his teeth, standing from his chair, “If I catch the lounge in a disarray again…”

He grabbed his jacket, tossing it over his shoulders, before placing his hat upon his head, the magestone pen morphing into the headwarden’s silver octopus topped cane. He hurried from his office and headed into the lounge.

Entering the lounge, Azul’s eyes widened at the sight.

The lounge was damaged - several tables and chairs were overturned, marred by huge cracks and scratches while lamps lay in pieces on the floor, the glass orbs scattered into a thousand fragments on the carpeted flooring and the magestones cracked and shattered as well. Azul’s eyes narrowed on Jade and Floyd’s figures, but realized they weren’t alone after all. Several students from the Scarabia dorm were there as well, their wands out and at the ready - pointing them at Jade and Floyd, who seemed to be guarding something on the floor.

Azul’s eyes widened in surprise at seeing Kalim’s magic carpet as well as Grim hiding behind the remaining two members of Octavinelle - and they weren’t alone.

You were there as well, cowering behind Jade and Floyd’s intimidating heights as the Scarabia students glared daggers at you.

“There’s no escape for you now, thieves!”

“Surrender quietly!”

“Mrow?!” Grim held his paws up, “You chased us all the way here?! You guys are seriously stubborn, you know that?”

Azul remained quiet for a moment, his eyes shifting to look you over - noticing how you had one arm close to your body. Were you hurt?

Azul’s eyes narrowed as he approached, his shoes echoing in the lounge as his stern voice addressed the situation, “What is all the commotion at this late hour?”

The students turned to look at Azul, one of them speaking quietly, “Y-you’re… Azul Ashengrotto, the housewarden of Octavinelle!”

“Would you care to explain what is going on?” Azul asked calmly, moving to stand in front of you with Jade and Floyd behind him.

“It’s none of Octavinelle’s business,” another student tsked, “Just hand over the two of them quietly.”

Azul crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he eyed you and Grim out of the corner of his eye, “Now that I’m looking closer at it - it appears to be (Y/N) and Grim sprawled out on our floor, quivering and covered in dust. Heh - I almost thought they were a pair of dust cloths.”

“Azul, please,” Azul met your gaze, “save us with your spirit of benevolence.”

“Hmm…” Azul turned back to the group of Scarabia before him.

“If you refuse to hand them over, you’ll be blamed for their wrongdoings as well,” the student warned.

“Hey - are ya yankin’ my tail here?!” Floyd’s eyes widened dangerously, his teeth peering out from behind his lips, “Who do ya think yer talkin’ to?!”

“No fighting of any kind is permitted in the Monstro Lounge,” Azul kept his arms crossed over his chest, his focus reshifting to address the situation at hand, “This is a place for gentlemen.”

“What was that? Are you interfering?” one of the students asked, “Fine, we’ll just do this the hard way.”

“Hmph, I think it’s time we asked these ill-mannered patrons to leave,” Azul growled, clicking his tongue in annoyance, “Jade. Floyd. Show them the door.”

The eel twins grinned as they moved quickly, going after the Scarabia students like the set of predators that they were. Azul was quick to move and cover (Y/N), his overcoat covering your form to protect you from the fighting, “Don’t look, my dear, I do not wish for you to see such behavior.”

“Azul - I’ve seen worse,” your voice rattled him to the core as he huffed.

“I... don’t need the reminder.”

It didn’t take long for the Scarabia students to fall back, Jade and Floyd repocketing their pens.

“Go on an’ scatter, ya bunch of minnows!” Floyd laughed eagerly.

“We’ll be eagerly awaiting your next visit to our lounge,” Jade smiled.

As the last of the students disappeared, Grim jumped for joy, “Mya-haha! We did it! You see that?! That’s what you get, you bunch of jerks!”

“We, Grim? I think you mean they - Floyd and Jade - did it,” you ask before shaking your head and turning toward the trio, “Thank you, all three of you - I don’t want to think what they would’ve done if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Thanks are unneeded, my dear,” Azul answered, standing and offering his hand, “However, I’m afraid we’ll have to bill you for repair fees for the tables and chairs - not to mention the lamps and assorted dishwear that was damaged in that fight. Not to mention our own labor rates, since we were dragged into this affair.”

“WHAT?! You’re charging us for that?!” Grim asked, throwing his paws up in the air.

“Surely it’s a small price to pay for us rescuing the both of you from the inky depths of peril? After all, (Y/N) did ask for my spirit of benevolence.”

“Azul, please,” you asked quietly, “There’s a reason that the Scarabia students were after us.”

“I’m assuming it has something to do with Kalim’s magic carpet.”

“... Not really,” you answer, “We were being held hostage.”

Azul frowned, not liking the word one bit, “Explain, (Y/N).”

***

Azul muddled over what you had just told him, Grim piping up every so often to include details about the Scarabia situation to add more information as the cunning octopus thought deeply. As Azul thought, his eyes kept shifting to you, his thoughts going deeper into self-loathing; if you had remained in Octavinelle, none of this would have happened - you would’ve been safe, not having to walk to an oasis down and back again every morning before even eating, or sleeping in a closet under lock and key, or even doing battles with other students of magic when you couldn’t even cast a spell yourself.

His poor little angelfish…

Azul’s eyes widened, an idea appearing in his mind… a chance of a lifetime had just been given to him and he would be damned to let it go to waste.

A knowning smile spread across his features, “...It sounds like we should go to their aid.”

“Myra?! Did you hit your head or something when I wasn’t looking?!” Grim asked.

“Of course not!” Azul feigned harm, lifting his gloved hand to his chest, “I’ll have you know, my dear Grimmy, that the last incident forced me to reflect on my greed. I came out a changed man!”

“Oh, really?” You asked, folding your arms across your chest, “Care to explain?”

“I decided to contribute to the school as a whole, in honor of the Sea Witch’s spirit of benevolence,” Azul explained, his features turning coy, “It’s common knowledge that the housewardens are typically the ones their students go to in times of need or struggle - even the vice wardens are responsible for that as well. However, the power has to be shared equally between both the house and vice wardens - and Scarabia’s all over the place. It’s faced with a crisis now and my own classmate is in need of help - I can hardly ignore them in their time of need.”

You watched Jade and Floyd give each other knowing smiles before the twins looked at Azul, Jade asking, “What is the plan?”

“Here’s my idea,” Azul proposed, “The five of us head to Scarabia tomorrow - we’ll go under the guise that we are returning Kalim’s carpet as well as offering assistance with the dorm’s studies, this will ensure our stay especially since Octavinelle did overwhelmingly well on their finals before break…”

“No thanks to your study guides,” Grim huffed.

“Grim,” You warned.

Azul coughed and continued, “Once we’ve secured our spot within Scarabia, we’ll be able to do a bit of sneaking around to figure out what’s really going on.”

“And I’m assuming you have an idea on how to do so?” Jade asked.

“Let’s get to that point before we make any rash decisions,” Azul answered.

“I think that is a wonderful idea,” you agreed.

“(Y/N)?! Are you crazy?!” Grim asked, “We can’t go back there!”

“Grim, we really have no other options,” you turned to the feline demon, “We’ve tried contacting the Headmage, the other students can’t get into the school because the dark mirror is closed off, we have no way of contacting Riddle or Leona either… Azul’s plan is the best we have right now. Personally, I’d rather not go back, but with the way things are looking for Kalim…”

“You’re afraid there’s going to be another overblot, aren’t you, pearl?” Jade asked.

Azul blinked, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Yes, Kalim’s behavior was erratic, but it couldn’t be enough for the headwarden to go into an overblot… would it?

“I’m afraid so,” you admit, looking over at Azul, “I noticed that… when things got a little out of control, someone overblotted. I can’t bare to see another student go through that, much less a housewarden again. I’d like to try and prevent it from happening again, if possible.”

Azul nodded, “No worries, angelfish - I’ll make sure mine was the last one you saw.”

You give the housewarden a small smile of relief - thankful that he seemed to understand.

Azul remembered during his blot how the memories of his childhood came forward; the root cause of his pain and suffering that eventually became his thirst for power that festered and grew until it snapped - and you had seen it all. Whatever this strange magical gift was and how you received it, Azul was certain that it was your own form of unique magic - one that was so powerful that it may even make Malleus Draconia afraid if he knew about it; the power to look into one’s past and see everything that shaped them into who they eventually became was strong powerful magic indeed - but, of course, Azul didn’t want anyone else to know about it, considering he was victim number three to the overblot crisis that appeared to be happening this year.

Azul reaches out, offering his hand to you, “(Y/N), as headwarden of Octavinelle - allow myself and Jade and Floyd to help you and Grim solve the mystery of Kalim’s strange behavior. I’m certain the five of us plus Jamil will be able to ease Kalim’s troubles and bring back the peace Scarabia so desperately needs. Do we have a deal?”

You look at his hand, the memory of the first day you met him and the day you lost your legs both playing in your mind - but what choice did you have? You look at him and take his hand, squeezing it.

“Promise - this will make us even?”

“Indeed. I promise.”

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angel-of-the-moons · 4 months ago

Text

Over The Phone

Dad Bod!Professor!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Just... NSFW. So much NSFW. Phone sex, masturbating, sexy selfies, sexting, all that shit.

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: God this took forever to churn out but I finally got motivation to finish it!!

Taglist: @cupcakeinat0r @tojishugetiddies (if I forgot to tag anybody let me know, pls! I lost the saved list I had for people alshldhd)

Divider by @/across-the-art-verse

Miguel art @ meeee

The day had dragged on for what felt like far longer than usual for him; the usual students who showed up late, tried to sneak out, slept through the lecture or just ignored whatever he said.

The students who listened and actively engaged with the lesson were few and far between, and the almost silent lull between classes felt felt almost too short. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered, especially with the growing list of students who were disinterested in his class, or those that only signed up for extra credit and didn't want to do the work...

But, getting cards and thank-you post-its from students who felt like they wouldn't have been able to graduate without him kept him on in this tedium. He loved to hear from his former students about how their new careers were going--careers they credit hi to helping them achieve.

It never failed to make his heart all warm and fuzzy when he thought about them.

Miguel ran his hand across his beard, and a thought came to him about maybe shaving it off. He had grown it out; rather rugged if he had to admit it. But, he quickly shook that thought away--you loved his beard. Oftentimes he would wake up from a nap, you snuggled perfectly against his solid frame, your nails dragging through the short hairs with a content smile on your face.

Oh, he couldn't say no to you, his pretty little wife, could he?

Speaking of which... it was your day off. He couldn't help but wonder what you were--

When his phone pinged, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and unlocks the screen to see a text from you;

Hiii baby, how's work going?

He chuckled and replied, Same as usual. Only two students slept through class this lime

*time

Your reply was swift.

Awww I'm sry :(

If it makes you feel any better, if I were in your class... wait. I wouldn't get any work done either. I'd just be lookin at you :p

He laughed, his belly shaking a little bit as he grinned at his screen, his massive fingers fumbling the small keys once again on the too-small phone screen.

Yes, you would mafe a very door student, wouldn't you, amor?

*made *poor

Miguel rolled his eyes. He was tempted to try and see if they didn't make phones built for someone with his giant hands in mind... Damn this tiny screen!

Awww my Miggy gettin all frustrated?

Yes.

For what felt like too long, his message was left on "read". He quirked a bushy brow, scratching at his beard curiously at what was keeping you.

And then, his phone pinged again.

Here, maybe this'll keep you entertained ;)

*Image attached. Click to view.*

He hummed in curiosity. Maybe it was one of those silly little doodles you liked to send to him? One of your memes, maybe? Though, it didn't make sense why the image was blurred, when--

His heart lurched up into his throat and he instantly slammed his phone against his desk, screen down; looking around pointlessly as if he were worried someone was standing over his shoulder when the image finally cleared.

Cursing himself for acting like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, Miguel slowly lifted his phone to his face and looked at the picture you'd sent him.

You were nude, laying belly-down in your bed, the blankets askew around you. Your feet crossed one over the other as you smiled at the lens--you must have moved the full body mirror from the living room to your bedroom to achieve this shot--and your back was arched slightly to show off your bare ass.

He felt his cock twitch to life as he examined every pixel on the screen; wishing so badly he were home right now, to touch that soft expanse of flesh he loved so much. To cup your ass in his palms, feeling the warmth of your skin in his palms as his fingers massaged and groped the skin.

He could feel your hands slide up the soft pouch of his belly, scraping your nails delectably through the short, curly dark hairs that ran up his abdomen and covered his chest. He could feel your teeth scrape and tug his nipple before kissing your way back down...

Dios, mi amor. You're lucky I am not in the middle of a meeting! He hastily typed, pretending he wasn't practically salivating over that selfie.

Aw, didn't you like what I sent? :'(

I didn't say--

But before he could finish typing and send the text, he got another attached image from you.

He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat and his thumb hovered over the image hesitantly. He looked towards the clock above the door to his classroom. He had half an hour left...

When the image unblurred, he felt his heart damn near stop.

You were perched on the edge of the bed, your legs spread wide; one hand was holding your phone while the others spread you slick folds with nimble fingers and a cheeky expression on your face.

How bout this one?

Miguel groaned, loudly. He actually slipped a hand over his plush lips, cringing at how damn near pathetic that sounded.

He immediately clicked your contact information and hit "call".

The phone rang a painfully long, droning tone until your bubbly voice giggled on the other end of the line, "Heyyyy Miggy~"

"You are going to kill me, baby." He hissed into his phone, pressing the heel of his palm into his throbbing erection, "I'm in the middle of a school day! The students are at lunch!"

"Ohhh, did I get you all hard and excited for me?" You sigh dreamily into the phone, your voice dropping into a more sultry tone.

"Naughty boy, popping a stiffy in the middle of class."

He grunted, his head dropping back against his chair, the leather creaking under his weight as he tugged the ends of his button-up out from his rapidly-tightening jeans, "And whose fault is that?"

You gasp theatrically, "Mine? Oh, baby, I was just trying to provide you moral support, I swear!"

"Of course," Miguel huffed, eyeing the doorknob, waiting to see if he was unlucky enough that somebody were to walk in right as he pulled his cock free from his jeans, running his fingers over the swollen tip, smearing his precum around it.

He could hear in your voice, the way you were biting your lip in excitement as you spoke. "Baby, are you touching yourself?"

"You tell me, first." He replied, his voice strained as he gave himself a few tentative strokes; trying to gauge if the risk was worth it.

"Oh? Want me to tell you that I'm playing with my pussy?" You croon. "That I'm imagining you, and me, in bed..."

His teeth snagged his plush bottom lip briefly as he sped his hand up to your words, then slowed back down again. The friction wasn't right; too dry. So, he sucked on his tongue until he had a nice glob of saliva; bringing his hand up to his mouth to wet it before slicking his throbbing length up.

"Go on." He grumbled into the line.

"...ooooh." You giggled, your voice a little breathless. He could see you now, laying back on the bed, your fingers plunging in and out of you, pulling out to stroke your puffy clit; your pussy drooling into the blankets beneath you.

"Mmmm~ I'm also imagining you on top of me, my legs on your shoulders..."

He felt the oxygen squeeze from his lungs as he upped his pace, the vein in his cock throbbing and thumping in time with his rapid heart rate.

"Yeah, bebita?"

"Yeah." You huff, a small moan coming from you; "'m imagining you pinnin' me down, fucking a baby into me."

"Dios." Miguel groaned, thrusting his hips up to meet his fist. "You want a baby, hermosa? Want me to make you a mami?"

"Mhmm... want you to fill me aaaallllll the way up." You whined, your panting hot, even through the phone.

Miguel dared a glance up at the clock. Still had some time... He needed to do it quickly; needed to milk his cock so he wouldn't appear "improper" with a massive erection straining his pants.

As if enough of his female students (and even some of the male ones) didn't have enough difficulty paying attention in class...

He'd be lying if he hadn't gotten a few love confessions from students, present and former. He'd always politely turn them down, and then, if they were currently his pupils, politely and quietly have them sent to another class to avoid any improper behavior in the future.

It was as if none of them ever paid any mind to the gold band firmly secured to his ring finger--the matching mate to the one you wore on your own softer, delicate hand signifying your matrimonial bonds. Or... maybe they had and assumed they could tempt him from you.

Well, those assumptions were always wrong. The only person he could imagine bouncing on his cock, sucking it, milking it, stroking it--was you. You and only you.

Sometimes thinking of you when he was alone was the only ways he could get off, before you started dating. Even finding porn of a woman who looked like you wasn't enough. It had to be you.

And after the first time he felt your pretty pink pussy swallow his cock whole? Oh, he was addicted. Addicted and whipped, a few of his colleagues would say...

The professor and the school nurse; a bit of a cliche; but it was a nice one. The two of you had even played with a slutty nurse outfit or two.

You not always being the nurse...

"Fuck, Miggs, 'm so close." You whine loudly. He could see in his mind's eye how fast your fingers would be working your clit, maybe even giving in and plunging one of your silicone toys in and out of your tight hole for him.

In fact, he could imagine it so closely he could hear it.

"Shit, baby..." He hissed, his hand working his length furiously, now, almost in a race with you to see who would cum first. "You on speaker??"

"Mhmm~" You whine, your air leaving your body in wet-hot pants, the sound of your slick pussy being fucked--by your hand or your toy, he couldn't place--but the sound of it had his balls tightening up already.

"Gonna cum for me, mi amor?" Miguel huffed and puffed, more thick precum dribbling down from his tip. He smeared it over himself, using the fluid as lube to help hasten his impending orgasm.

"Yeah, baby~"

He snarled, the sound of stroking skin lewd and loud; your moans the best pornography his ears could ever be graced with.

"Cum for me, honey." Miguel whined, his glasses slipping further down his nose as he released his cock long enough to yank his shirt up over the soft, rounded edge of his tummy.

Immediately after, his hand returned once more around the thick pulsing shaft of him; stroking, tugging, milking himself like he knew your sweet cunt would. Your tight, wet, needy pussy that was dying for a drop of his cum.

As you wantonly moaned; he could imagine you splayed out in bed, legs wide and mouth open as you shout your orgasm out for him to hear, drowning out the outside world... and as his eyes would drift down, he could imagine your belly, cute and round; a baby kicking out at his hand as he caressed the stretched-out skin.

The image of you carrying his baby sent his mind into a blazing fire, the tightening in his balls and swelling of his cock too much to bear. Miguel arched his back, the wheels of his chair squeaking faintly across the floor as he curled his toes in his polished shoes, hot, thick ropes of cum shooting out to coat his belly, fingers, and even the underside of his desk; your name leaving his lips in a flurry of obscene prayers.

His mind was fuzzy as he slowly came down from his high, the sound of your giggle snapping him back to reality:

"See you when you get home, Miggy~"

The phone hangs up, and Miguel is left with his pearly white mess coating his belly, making his skin and hair sticky. At least he didn't get any on his shirt. This time.

The bell rang, suddenly, shaking him to full lucidity from his post-coital haze, his hairs standing on end and making him jolt up straight.

He hastily grabbed a few tissues from his desk drawer and began cleaning up, shoving a few stray stands of his graying hair back into place as he began to hear the chatter and footfall of students in the halls.

Oh, you would pay for this when you got home, all right.

#Db!Miguel O'hara #Dad bod!Miguel O'hara #Db!Professor!Miguel O'hara #Dad bod!Professor!Miguel O'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #Db!Miguel O'hara x Reader #Db!Miguel O'hara x you #Professor!Miguel O'hara x you #Professor!Miguel O'hara x reader #atsv x reader #teacher au

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blessedbucky · 4 months ago

Text

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 3)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: ........14k? oops?

summary: a glimpse at your first year in tokyo jujutsu high

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, ableism, internalized ableism, mentioned child abuse, light bullying, satoru has some identity issues, actually EVERYONE has identity issues here, jealous and protective boys, JJK typical violence

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again

author note: um.....so....this was meant to be all three of the high school years in one chapter........but i lost control of the plot. and here we are...FOURTEEN THOUSAND WORDS LATER...and THIS WAS ONLY THE FIRST YEAR of them in high school? help me.

translation note: jiheishō is the japanese term for autism

chapter links: ONE, TWO, AO3

[YEAR ONE.]

Graduation comes.

Finally.

In the months since you and Suguru were offered scholarships with Jujutsu High, word slowly spread around the school. Suguru and you have to sit on the roof for lunches to escape your growing popularity. You have no idea why these people have started to crawl out of the woodworks, but Suguru said he kind of expected it. It’s not only you two that want out of the village and you two are going to live the life that everyone else dreams of. They think they can worm their way into your lives now and leech off any future success or have an in inside Tokyo.

Still, you can’t believe how many addresses and phone numbers you’re given. There are a few that you keep, people from the art club that you joined who have always been cordial enough to you. You felt a little obligated because they pitched in to buy you a relatively nice art supply kit to continue your craft in Tokyo. The rest of the contact information is tossed in the trash, some right in front of their faces out of spite.

Meanwhile, Suguru is almost suspended.

No one can prove that Nakayama Izuru was attacked by Suguru, though. It’s not possible for a human to leave the claw marks on Nakayama’s arms. You can only imagine that saccharine smile that Suguru was wearing when he told the school staff that he saw a tanuki attack Nakayama. The only crime he committed was not getting help sooner and, for that, he apologized. Nakayama himself even admitted that he didn’t see anything or that Suguru didn’t put hands on him, but he knows Suguru was responsible somehow.

You, obviously, know better.

“Idiot,” you hiss when you and Suguru are at your usual afterschool hangout spot by the river. “That wasn’t very heroic of you. It could’ve costed you your scholarship if word got back to Tokyo.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t even that bad. A cat could’ve done more damage than I did.”

You sigh. “I know we’ve always teased people with your collection, but we’ve never drawn blood. You don’t like him, never have, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” You throw a rock, trying to get it to skip across the water, but it just gives a sad plop and sinks. “What happened?”

“Remember when you and Endo got in that fight a few months ago?” You nod slowly. “It was something like that.” He’s not looking at you, but his rage still lingers. He’s usually good at skipping rocks, but not today. “Which means you can’t judge me because if you knew how to fight, you definitely would’ve. Don’t even try to pretend you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, but I suck at keeping my mouth shut and can’t control my emotions for shit. I know I’m gonna struggle when we start high school because of that.” This isn’t a scolding. You’re just really worried because, “You’re good at letting that stuff roll off you.”

Suguru’s frown deepens. “Not about you.” If it wasn’t so quiet here, you’d have missed him whisper, “Never about you.”

“People have made fun of me before.”

“It’s different.” He presses a thumb against his forehead. “Can we drop this?”

“Well, I kinda want to know what he said. I told you what Endo said, didn’t I?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Suguru,” you sing. “I’ll keep asking. Don’t I have a right to know?”

“I was trying to be polite.” His eye is twitching irritably. “He said that he never noticed until now how nice your tits are. The nicest in our class.” You burst out in a fit of laughter. A vein throbs at his temple. Maybe this is why he didn’t want to say anything. “It’s not funny, Squid. It was disgusting. He tried to act buddy-buddy with me while I was waiting for you to get done with art club. He wanted to know if you were still a virgin or not.”

You shake your head, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “Nakayama thinks because his father owns the biggest farm that he’s worth something. Not even Endo would date him and she’s the most popular girl in school.” You crouch down to rummage for some skipping stones. “Hey, if we’re still virgins by the end of high school, want to take each other’s virginities?”

It’s like all the fight rushes out of him, the way Suguru sighs and how his shoulders slump in defeat. “You shouldn’t say things like that.” His neck, the tips of his ears, his entire face…it’s all so red. It’s rare to find, but there are some things that go too far. You open your mouth to apologize, but he interrupts. “You promise?”

“I promise.” You give one of the stones you find a few tosses, making sure it’s light enough. “I kind of always thought it would be you, anyway. Now that we’re leaving the village, you’ll get super popular at this new school, so I doubt you’ll be single by the time we graduate, but this is on the off chance that you are.” He tilts his head back, staring up at the skies. That’s his existential crisis face. “I’m sorry. Was that too far?”

“I always thought it would be you, too,” he admits quietly. “I guess…you’re making it sound so transactional.”

Right. Girls say that the first time is supposed to be special. “I can try to make it special for you, if it happens. I don’t really understand what special means, but I’ll try.”

Suguru shakes himself out of his thoughts. “I’ll make it special, don’t worry.”

“Don’t think about it too much. You’ll definitely get a boyfriend or girlfriend.”

“It could be the other way around, y’know.”

You scoff. “Where we’re going…seeing the spirits is normal. So, everyone there will be normal. That’s when my weirdness is really going to shine. You’re used to it. Do you think someone is willingly going to deal with my stupid habits and quirks? How do I even explain to another person that even seeing cotton balls makes my teeth hurt?” You shake your head. “I’m already high enough maintenance for you and you’re my best friend. It’d be worse for a boyfriend or girlfriend, wouldn’t it?”

Suguru says your name. You look over at him and he’s sad. “You’re not high maintenance.”

“You’re my best friend. You’re obligated to say that.”

“No, I’m not. You know I’m honest with you. Would you like an example of my honesty? Here’s one—you’re so blind that, sometimes, it amazes me.”

You throw a rock at the vicinity of his feet. He moves to dodge it. “Rude.”

***

Non-sorcerer students are required to move on campus two weeks before school starts. There will be some informal classes on the most basic of jujutsu basics to give you somewhat a foundation. In yours and Suguru’s cases, Yaga lies to both your parents and has someone come pick you and your things up three weeks before school starts.

At the nearest relatively big city, Yaga makes the driver stop. He practically shoves food down your throats, lecturing the entire time about the importance of eating to make up for the massive amounts of energy that you’ll be burning by using cursed energy and fighting spirits.

Then, he forces you both to choose cell phones.

You and Suguru, obviously from very humble means, protest. None of them are cheap. Yaga shuts you down and declares this as yet another requirement. Essentially, you’ll always be on-call, especially as you become a more seasoned sorcerer. You need a way to communicate with others and be communicated with in return. Yaga mutters something under his breath before he heads outside to take a smoke break with the driver.

“He’ll probably yell at us if we go for the cheapest thing,” Suguru mutters as he looks around the store.

“Something in the middle, then,” you agree.

In your defense, you do get something that’s not the most expensive. There wasn’t any mention about the design or color. It called to you, okay? You could take or leave the color, but the almost metallic shine of it. It’s so sleek and smooth. The number keys are nearly flat and it’s satisfying to run your fingers over the slight bump of them.

Yaga doesn’t even bat an eye when you hand over the hot pink flip phone. He simply takes what you’ve chosen, takes Suguru’s chunky option, and goes to the counter to pay for them and set up your new numbers. You and Suguru stand there, almost with bated breath.

It’s hard to believe that the school is investing so much money into you both already. Yaga didn’t even mention this coming out of your monthly stipend. A stipend, by the way, that you and Suguru weren’t aware of until you were on the road. You’d asked if you needed to tell your parents because that seemed like a pretty important thing for Yaga to forget. Yaga had shrugged and, casual as anything, said, “it’s your money now. Tell whoever you want about it.”

And, as easy as it was then for him, it is now because Yaga hands you your phones back, numbers on some paperwork, and that’s it. He walks out of the store and gets in the car. You and Suguru share a look of disbelief before you scramble to follow after him and climb in the back of the car.

It’s still a drive to a train station that will take you the rest of the way to Tokyo. The driver turns the music up. You and Suguru immediately duck your heads down, heads knocking together, voices hushed as you marvel over your new phones. You can’t stop rubbing your thumb over the smooth surface. Suguru isn’t the type to get distracted by something like texture, so he’s already clicking through it to add your phone number.

“Add me,” he demands. “What? Were you blinded by that gaudy color?”

“Like you have room to talk,” you shoot right back at him. “That’s got a MP3 built into it.”

“Are you the only one here that can be an enjoyer of the arts?”

“You could’ve kept using the radio.” You’re already a little sad. It’s a favorite pastime—you and Suguru, sprawled out on the floor, listening to the radio. Maybe you can save up for one. “Whatever. You better share the headphones whenever you figure out how to put music on that thing.”

“You better use your phone as a SOS if we’re ever lost.”

The only response to that is your harrumph and grabbing your backpack off the floor. Suguru goes back to his phone as you pull out your pencil and sketchbook. It’s a bumpy road. You already have a sketch of Hong, but maybe you’ll just do another rough one to fill the time. You flip through the pages upon pages of new and old cursed spirits that Suguru now holds, trying to find an open spot. There’s not much room left. Mother hates to buy you sketchbooks, seeing it as indulging your abnormality.

“You’re a talented artist,” Yaga commends. You pull the sketchbook against your chest instinctively. Yaga doesn’t acknowledge the action. Just asks, “Are those the cursed spirits that you’ve seen?” You lower the sketchbook back down in your lap, nodding shyly. “May I?”

You usually hide your sketchbook away from the eyes of others because classmates and adults were easily disturbed by what they thought were figments of your imagination. It’s going to take time to get over this surrealism that comes from everyone seeing the things you can and treating it as if it’s normal. So, you hesitantly hold out your sketchbook for him to take. You’re nervous as you watch him flip through the pages.

“These notes…you study them?” Yaga correctly assumes.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Um…they can’t see me unless I want them to,” you explain slowly. “I can make them calm, too.”

“How have you been destroying them?”

“We don’t,” Suguru answers on your behalf. “I eat them.”

Yaga’s eyes widen. “You…eat them?”

“Maybe a better way to say it is that I absorb them,” Suguru corrects. “After that, I can summon them whenever I want.”

Yaga tries to hide it, but he seems…shaken. He glances back down at your sketchbook, quickly thumbing through the pages. “Is this all that you’ve taken down together? Is this how many you’ve swallowed, Geto?”

Suguru takes the sketchbook back from Yaga. Suguru is a lot more familiar with your sketches, but he skims through the pages once again. “I think this is about right,” he finally answers Yaga. “There might be more in my arsenal. Sometimes, we find spirits on our own or she doesn’t want to sketch whatever we find.”

“Right.” Yaga is nodding to himself. “We’ll explore your individual techniques more when the term starts.”

***

You’re allowed a few days to unpack and acquaint yourselves with campus before you’re taken to be fitted for your new school uniforms.

“Whatever I want?”

The tailor nods. “It’s important that you be comfortable and be in clothes that are easy for you to move in. It goes without saying that you’re a representation of the school, so you can’t be indecent, but that is your only condition,” she explains. “I’ll check-in with you after your first assignment to make sure your uniform doesn’t need any further adjustments. Also, the uniform expenses aren’t deducted from your stipend. This is on the school’s budget.”

The second that the tailor shows you the standard uniform, you turn your nose up at it. You rub the fabric between your fingers, examining it critically. The fabric, you think you could deal with, but if you can throw out the blazer then you’ll immediately jump on that chance. You’ve always preferred baggy clothes, so you shop a size or two too large. Your mother never complained because that meant your clothes lasted longer. So, you think about your wardrobe. Think about what your go-to clothes are when you’re not in a stiff school uniform.

After giving it some thought while your measurements are taken, you decide on a skirt, thin tights, and a hooded sweatshirt.

It’s an outfit that you can justify. The skirt will allow for freer movement. Tights, if they’re thin enough fabric, don’t really bother you because they’re like a second skin. The sweatshirt won’t have the same restrictive sleeves that the blazer does. Lastly, if you’re overwhelmed after assignments then you can hide under your hood.

The tailor accepts the design and tells you that she’ll call when the uniform is ready.

You’re thankful that Suguru is so tall because you’d have panicked otherwise if you stepped outside the tailor shop and couldn’t see him in front of a shop across the street. Your brows raise when you see that it’s a small tattoo shop. Outside the door, there’s a binder on a stand that must have their services and examples from their portfolio. Suguru isn’t looking at the tattoos. No, he seems to be carefully considering the section with ear piercings.

And, honestly, you’re not surprised.

“That school trip to Osorezan really left an impression on you, huh?”

It’d been the first year of middle school that your class went on a trip to Osorezan, believed to be the entrance to the afterlife. It was a religious, historical, and scientific field trip all wrapped into one since the Bodaiji temple is inside the caldera of an active volcano. The high amounts of sulfur gave the waters varying shades of blue. The land was gray and barren. But there was also a hot spring. Statues were littered around the area to represent the souls of the dead.

Just going off the limited knowledge that Yaga gave you, it makes sense that there were so many cursed spirits there. It’s a place of reverence, sure, but people probably go there out of desperation, too. On some level, it might be feared—whether because of the lore or the volcano near it.

It was an overnight trip. You and Suguru hadn’t slept a fucking wink. It was amazing. You’d adored it because of the nature and science. Suguru fell in love with the history and spirituality.

“Shut up.” The tips of his ears are red. “The tailor said there’s no dress code. Yaga said the only rule is to not bring too much attention to the school.” He rubs at his ear lobe. “It looks really cool, doesn’t it?”

“I think you’re being a stereotypical smalltown kid that’s going wild in the big city,” you deadpan.

“Well, I’m doing it. If it bothers you so much then stay out here,” he says primly.

You’ve started to flip through the pages of piercings. “No, no.” There’s one thing that caught your eye. You touch the picture of a tongue piercing. “Just think it’s a little funny that as soon as your feet stepped down in Tokyo, you went running.” Do your eyes glaze over when you think about running the little metal ball of a piercing across your teeth? Maybe. “I want this one.”

“Eh? I’m just getting gauges. You’re getting way wilder than me. You understand that, right?” Suguru is grinning as he grabs your wrist. “Let’s go.”

***

A week later, your tongue has healed enough that you finally learn to talk around it. Just as you suspected, the urge to roll it between your teeth is hard to pin down while you let it fully heal. It’ll be another three to five weeks. Yaga never said a word about it when you both showed up to a classroom the next day. All he did was throw some textbooks at you both and got to lecturing.

You guess you need to start thinking of him as sensei.

Suguru talks about you being a huge nerd, but he’s the one that’s in the school library, trying to dive deeper into…everything that you’ve learned, basically. Despite the fact that you’ll be spending the next three years gaining more knowledge about the jujutsu world. He’s always been like that—impatient when he’s eager. Well…maybe he picked that up from you.

Anyway, you left him behind to enjoy the weather and view. If you’re not with Suguru, you’re enjoying the view. The campus is nestled on a mountain outside Tokyo. It’s got the kind of scenery that inspires a person. This is the first time, probably ever, that you draw things that are not cursed spirits. That’s what you’re doing now. You have an urge to draw the contrast of the bright red torii gate against the lush, green foliage.

You almost lose your art supplies to gravity when someone rushes in front of you. Not that you’d say anything, but you can send them a shitty look. You’re a little more forgiving when you see their vision is blocked by a big box. Another person follows with another equally big box follows after that person. You blink and look in the direction of where they’re coming from.

A group has made their way to the top of the staircase that leads up to the school.

They are…very bright.

Almost everyone in the small group has blinding white hair and blue eyes. Not only that, but they are also dressed in traditional clothes that you know are expensive. The colors are vibrant. Just from here, you can tell just one of those kimonos probably costs more than your childhood house. Every woman in the group has a gold kanzashi in their hair with a dangling charm in the form of a…is that a dragonfly?

Off to the side of this group, though, is a boy your age. Same white hair and blue eyes, yes, but he’s dressed so casually that it’s almost obscene next to the rest of his people. Just a white shirt, pair of basketball shorts, and some sneakers. Thismust be one of your two classmates. Yaga said there would be another boy and girl enrolling. And…he must be moving on campus early. You wonder why. Clearly, those people are his family and they’re loaded. Why on earth would he want to leave home early?

The classmate stops and turns to stare at you dead-on. Don’t come over here, don’t come over here, don’t come over here, you silently plead. You weren’t prepared to deal with other people yet. It’s still a new place and new information is constantly getting thrown at you and you just don’t have the mental energy to deal with strangers.

Fate is not on your side, though, and your classmate closes the distance between you and him.

You’re wary when he’s right in front of you. If you weren’t desensitized by Suguru, this guy’s height would definitely intimidate you a lot more. You’re still nervous which could be because he’s really close to you physically. Your body tenses, instinctively preparing for unwanted touch.

“Show me around.”

“Huh?”

“Show me around,” he repeats.

Okay. You’re not sure what you expected. Normally, people give a little context when you question what they say. “I’m new, too. Our sensei is here, though. His name is Yaga.” You tilt your head slightly. “I can go grab him instead.”

“I asked you. You’re one of those shy types, right? Probably not good with talking to hot guys? I figure you won’t talk while we walk around the place.” He says all that…so casually. “I’ve had that hag back there in my ear all day. I got a headache. If you wanna keep talking, though, I’ll just go find someone else.”

“The only other person here will tell you to fuck off if you go around making demands like this,” you state bluntly. Actually, you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up punching this guy in the nose. “Look, I come off as rude, too, but you should maybe think a little longer before you speak.” Oh, no. You sounded like Suguru just now.

The guy squints at you. “Who the hell are you? Where you from? Do you not know who I am?”

Oh. Yaga warned you and Suguru about this in a roundabout way. The jujutsu world is super traditional. There are these three clans that have been around for hundreds and hundreds of years, so they’re really respected. They’re competitive with each other and try to pump out more talented sorcerers. They tend to turn their nose up at people like you and Suguru who have no hint of sorcery in your family or ancestry.

You give him your name, the prefecture you came from, and then answer with a curt, “No, I don’t know who you are. Should I?”

He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “So…you’re a hick. That’s what your deal is?” Hmm, well, he’s technically not wrong about that. “Whatever. I’m Gojo Satoru. You can ask the Yaga guy about how important I am later. Can we go now?”

You could not follow Gojo when he walks past you, but his…family or whatever is taking up the space that you were going to use for your art. Also, you can sympathize with needing an excuse to get away from a large group of people, especially when you’re overwhelmed. Not saying that Gojo is, but he did mention a headache.

So, you and Gojo take a stroll.

It’s quiet, aside from the sounds of nature and your footfalls. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his head turn in your direction. What? Is he shocked that you respected his wish to be quiet? You don’t want to force a conversation.

After maybe half an hour of walking, you declare, “I think we’re far away enough that you don’t need me anymore.” You point at the bench in front of a pond that you purposely led yourselves to. “So, I’m going to do what I was going to do.” You give a polite half-hearted bow. “It was nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you in the future.”

Suguru texts as soon as you sit down, asking where you went off to. You’re terrible with directions, so you send him a shot of the pond and the building closest to it. You don’t mention Gojo. You’ll tell him about it later. Your fingers glide over the hard cover of the new sketchbook and the fresh, crisp, blank page that you turn to. You treat this sketchbook carefully because it’s the nicest you’ve ever seen.

Yaga said that it was very important to nurture your curiosity in understanding cursed spirits, so it was a more than worthy investment to get you sketchbooks. The more knowledge that you gain about the jujutsu world, the deeper your understanding of them goes, and that can be helpful to the jujutsu world. No one has ever had an ability like yours that he knows of, Yaga had told you privately. Knowledge of cursed spirits is only gained in the heat of battle or the aftermath of death. Your pacification abilities allow the study of cursed spirits without the bloodshed.

In that meeting, you’d tried to make Yaga see some sense. You’re some nobody from nowhere with a weird fixation on drawing the cursed spirits. He has all these big aspirations for you, but you highly doubt that you can live up to them. It wasn’t even about the sketchbook at that point. Suguru’s technique is the one that will change the world.

With you and Suguru, I think your techniques have skewed your worldviews. Suguru has shown me some of his higher-grade spirits. Exorcising those would be bloody work for anyone else. Your technique is more suited for a supportive role, yes, but don’t dismiss your power. It’s a trickle-down effect—you’ll save the lives of fellow sorcerers who will go on to exorcise spirits that saves the lives of current and future non-sorcerers.

You’d definitely cried after that conversation with Yaga. No one has ever wanted to…foster your interest like this. Setting aside how disturbed they were by the content that you drew, they saw no use in it. It was fine as a child, but in the past year or so, they had outright started to scold you for not putting the pencil down. You were the daughter of farmers and would never be famous for your art, so you needed to invest in better skills. Even your art teacher wanted to censor you and told you that any drawings needed to be school-appropriate.

More dedicated than ever, you’ve been almost obsessive with drawing.

“Oi.”

You’ve literally only drawn the rough shape of the pond. You try not to sigh or let your irritation at being interrupted show on your face when you tilt your head up. “Yes?”

“What if I did want a tour?”

It was obvious from the get-go that Gojo is a blunt person, so you don’t lie out of politeness. “I still get lost, so I’m the wrong person to ask. Like I said before, go ask Sensei.” You drop your attention to your lap and start sketching again. “Besides, I’m not good at talking to people.”

“It’s not like we have to chat. Just tell me the buildings.”

“Didn’t you say you have a headache?”

“Yeah, but I always have a headache.” That’s…alarming. You look back up at him, concerned. He shrugs and says, “Six Eyes,” as if you have any idea what that is supposed to mean. “Ugh. Right. Small town girl or whatever.” Then, he tries to dismiss it all with, “It’s a Gojo clan thing. I have special eyes that make my technique better, but the cost is migraines.”

Oh. It’s like Suguru’s technique, then. In the sense that there’s a massive blowback. Suguru has told you about the taste of curses and how disgusting doesn’t even come close to describing how awful it is. He tries to pretend that the taste is the only bad thing about it, but there’s a reason why he would wait until night to eat them where he could lay down immediately after. He’s even admitted that he would eat them to make his body forget about its hunger.

You’re sympathetic to the sensitivity. There are days when an overcast is still too bright. You bought a pair of sunglasses while you were out with Suguru, but…you can always get more. You have a whole monthly stipend now. Also, you got your uniform and you’re wearing it, so you can use the hood if the light is too much.

“Here.” You pull the sunglasses from where they’re perched on the top of your head. They’re a simple pair with thin silver frame and blue, circular lenses. Gojo looks between you and the sunglasses that you have held out. You hesitate. “What? Are they too girly or something?”

“Uh…no. I…” He looks genuinely perplexed. “You don’t know who I am. Why are you giving me these?”

“My senses are stupidly delicate, too. I know what having a bad day feels like. I don’t need these today, so you can have them. I can go buy new ones if I need them.” Oh! You remember something important and inform him, “I’ve worn them inside and Yaga doesn’t care, so you’re good on that front.”

Gojo takes the sunglasses from you but doesn’t put them on yet. “Inside?”

Oops. “Sorry. I forgot that people are weird about sunglasses inside.” You tap your pencil against the sketchbook, trying to figure out how to say what you want to. “I don’t really understand what the issue there is. Sunglasses are designed to help when it’s too bright. Inside can be as bright as outside, so I’m just using them for their intended purpose. That’s how I see it.” Oops again. You started rambling. “I’ll take them back if you don’t want them. You didn’t seem like the type to care about the opinions of others, is all.”

“No, I want them.” He yanks them away when you try to take them back. “I—”

“Hey!”

Suguru’s normally soft voice raising like that makes you yelp and jump in your seat. You whip your head around to see him storming toward you, fists and jaw clenched. You’re alarmed to see him so visibly angry. You scramble to stand up and meet him in the middle. “Suguru?”

“Aren’t you too old to be picking on people?” Suguru asks with narrowed eyes. He’s looking over your head, at Gojo. “Give those back to her.”

Oh! Now, you understand. To someone else, it would look like Gojo stole your sunglasses and is trying to keep them away to be a bully.

“Suguru, no. It’s okay—”

“Heh!” Gojo’s cocky laugh makes you angle your body so you can look between them both. He smirks smugly and makes a show of putting on your sunglasses. “Who are you? Mommy?” Gojo shoves his hands in his pockets, feigning nonchalance. “I didn’t steal them, so calm down, mama bear.” Gojo points at Suguru while asking you, “This the guy that’s gonna tell me to fuck off if I don’t find some manners?”

“I’m certainty thinking about it right now,” Suguru sneers. His anger simmers back down and he goes back to his polite yet cool indifference. He ignores Gojo’s obvious baiting and moves his attention to you. “Is that true? Did you give those to him?” You nod. Suguru frowns. “You just bought those.”

“I was trying to be nice to our new classmate.” Suguru’s brow twitches in irritation—probably over the knowledge that this is one of your two classmates. Gojo has not made a good first impression, to say the least. “It’s no big deal. I can buy some new ones when we go to the konbini.”

“Eh? I want to go!” Gojo whines.

Suguru forces a polite smile. “You should stay here. I’m sure that Sensei will have some things to go over with you.”

“I don’t know how to get back. Sketch here was showing me around.”

“Sketch?” Suguru and you repeat, in unison.

“Yeah! Sketch!” Gojo motions towards your sketchbook that you left on the bench. “Because you’re an artsy girl.”

“You should know someone longer than an hour before you go giving them nicknames,” Suguru lectures.

Gojo cocks his head to the side, genuinely confused. “Should you?”

“Yes. Otherwise, it’s just being presumptuous.”

“Ask the lady, then.” Gojo hunches over, prowling toward you with a mischievous grin, getting very close to your face with his. “You don’t mind it, do you…” He lifts his head, purposely baiting Suguru when he adds, “…Sketch?”

Now, you may not be the best at social cues or reading the room, but even you know that whatever you say is going to be the wrong thing. Do you actually care about the nickname thing? No. Also, is Suguru forgetting that he literally gave you the Squid nickname only after a week? Sure, you were both six and he forgot your name, but the point stands.

“I think I’m in the middle of a dick measuring contest,” you muse aloud. Suguru sighs in exasperation while Gojo gives a delighted laugh. “I’m going to walk away now.”

“Yes. We should go,” Suguru agrees through gritted teeth.

As you and Suguru are walking away, after you’ve gathered all your things up, Gojo loudly asks, “Aren’t you gonna introduce yourself?”

Suguru understands, on some level, that it would be beneficial to get along with your peers since there’s only going to be four of you in the whole class. That’s why you’ve indulged Gojo’s…neediness? Entitlement? Whatever it is. And Suguru won’t be as nice as you—which is ironic because he’s usually the polite one—but he does turn around and introduce himself with a curt, “I’m Geto Suguru.”

“Gojo Satoru,” Gojo shoots back cockily. “Aren’t you going to tell me how much you look forward to working with me?”

“No.” Ah. Suguru’s patience has reached its end. “We’re leaving now.”

***

It’s not until about a week later, one week before the term starts, that you actually see Gojo on campus. This isn’t to say that you’re not painfully aware of what Gojo has been up to. Because what his purpose in life seems to be right now is to dig his way under Suguru’s skin. While in separate rooms, they still share communal spaces—kitchen, showers, laundry. Suguru tries to stay in his room, but they’re bound to run into each other, and when they do…

Well, you learn that there are alarms imbued in the protective barrier around campus that blare when a cursed spirit is detected within. Spirits from Suguru’s collection are no exception. That unexpected noise had you in a panic. Suguru and Gojo had an extremely long lecture and were forced to clean the already pristine classrooms as punishment.

You’re making your rounds on the track. Sensei recommended it since you’re not nearly as in shape as Suguru. He was trusted to work in the fields back home way more than you were. The most that you were trusted to do was wash picked crops. You weren’t even allowed to pick out the bad crops because you took too long. You’re a perfectionist and kept questioning if you should let a crop slip through or not.

Gojo plops down on the stone staircase that leads down to the track and field. You feel like you should ignore him out of loyalty to Suguru, but you can’t do that here. You have to try and get along with your classmates. You leave the lectures to Sensei and hope that Suguru’s temper will cool down with time. Also…Gojo is waving a second popsicle in the air to get your attention and it’s really tempting. Too tempting.

You wordlessly take the popsicle and examine the flavor. It’s red bean. You’re instantly wary. “Did you get the same?” Gojo flashes the reddish tinted popsicle in answer. He shoves it back in his mouth before you can get a good look. Fine. You’ll just ask outright. “Does it have pieces of red beans in it?”

Gojo scowls. You think you’ve offended him for asking too many questions about his gift, but it turns out that he’s actually upset about something else entirely. “No! Ew! What am I? A heathen?” His nose scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, that’s so gross. Who like chunks in their ice cream? The whole point is for it to be creamy and smooth!”

You almost sigh in relief. “I think sprinkles are okay, but…yeah. Everything else is too much.”

“Ugh, no. Sprinkles are too chalky. They leave this…eh…it’s like a film kind of feeling on my teeth. I hate it. I have to scoop it off any desserts which pisses me off more because I love whipped cream and I’m losing it to fucking sprinkles.”

You nod sagely. “A waste of good food.”

“Thank you! You get it!” Gojo sighs dramatically. “You’re so much cooler than your boyfriend, Sketch!”

“Because I agreed with you about dessert preferences? Also, Suguru isn’t my boyfriend. He’s my best friend. We’ve lived in the same village all our lives. There was no one else like us. People that could see cursed spirits, I mean.”

Gojo is still wearing the sunglasses that you gave him. You can’t tell that he’s looking you over until he allows them to slip down the bridge of his nose. “Really? He acts like a possessive boyfriend, though.”

You rub the back of your neck. “We’re protective of each other because of…other private stuff.” You know not to put Suguru’s relationship with his parents on blast. “Oh, and he says he’s not, but I think he’s protective because of my diagnosis.”

“Diagnosis?”

“Jiheishō,” you answer casually between licks of your popsicle. “I was always weird as a baby and a toddler. Then, I talked about seeing things, and that pushed my parents over the edge. They took me to a doctor, and I got diagnosed.”

“Huh. What’s that like?”

“I don’t know. It’s who I am. How do you explain being?” You pause. “I would say that you could ask Suguru since he’s on the outside looking in, but…you’re being an annoying dick to him.”

Gojo cackles. “But he makes it so easy!”

“I’m not one to assume because it’s hard to know what people think or I don’t understand them the right way, but…have you ever tried to make friends before? If I didn’t already know that you have to go to a school, I’d ask if you’ve even been around other people your age. This isn’t how you get along with your peers.”

He scoffs. “Why do I need to get along with my peers? Why do I need friends?”

“Because it’s lonely and miserable without them?”

“Ha! You ever stop to think that it’s lonely and miserable with them?” There’s a bitter twist to his mouth. He nudges the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes away. “I mean, you said it, didn’t you? It’s such a chore to figure out how other people work and what they’re thinking. Normies are too…normal. Clan kids are only sucking up because my clan is the most powerful. It’s stupid and complicated. Why bother?”

Oh. That’s…sad…and also way too relatable. Your expression softens. “Those aren’t friends, though. You know that, right? I guess my opinion might not count because I only have one friend, but…he’s made my life better. I like to think that I’ve made his better, too.” He sticks his tongue out in disgust. You shrug. “It’s true. He’s been the only person that listens to me when I can’t shut up about art styles or cursed spirits because I’m really interested in those. I can be me around him.”

“You’re probably not as annoying as you think you are,” he dismisses. “Now, I’m annoying. I can’t shut up about Digimon.”

“You’re probably not as annoying as you think you are,” you repeat mockingly. He flips you off and you smirk in response. “Do you want to talk about it with me? I’ll listen. It sounds like you’ve been around shitty people that don’t want to hear about things that make you happy.”

Gojo is actually…hesitant. That makes you even sadder. You know this all too well. “I yap a lot. Seriously.”

You make yourself laugh past the hurt you feel out of sympathy for him. “I’ve got my sketchbook with me. I’ll show you what real yapping is.”

It’s the right thing for you to say. Putting a competitive spin on it makes it easier for Gojo to be open, it seems. “Oh, you are so on, Sketch.” He rises to his feet with a renewed excitement. “You should come help me finish unpacking! I have a lot of Digimon stuff, so it’ll be easier to explain everyone with that!”

“Eh? Are girls allowed—”

Gojo doesn’t hear you. He snatches you by the wrist and you stumble to keep up with him. You’re halfway to the boys’ dorm before he finally listens when you tell him that he left your sketchbook behind. You watch him sprint back toward the track, still trying to figure out how the hell you ended up here.

Suguru loves to read, but not manga. There was only one television in your house that your parents always had control of, so they never let you watch anime. Obviously, you know that Digimon is a manga and anime. It’s big like Pokémon. You know there are little creatures, but that’s about the extent of it.

Gojo changes that.

It’s a little confusing, sure, but you like hearing people talk about the things they like. Maybe it’s because you’re so used yourself to the rejection of being shut down because you’re boring people by talking about the same thing or overwhelming them with talking too much or liking weird things. You don’t want other people to feel like that. It was obvious from Gojo’s demeanor that it’s something he’s experienced, too.

As you look at all the figurines and manga and plushies, you wonder if his family threw money at this thing he likes and left him alone with it all. You don’t think he would be so cynical about other people if he had support from his family. Would you be okay if you parents paid for the most expensive art supplies in the world and left you to it? You prefer to be alone, but…isn’t this special interest more special when you can share it with someone?

“Squid?”

You and Gojo are both in the middle of his room, on the floor, and currently have your faces shoved against his little plushies that are shaped like the first evolution of the original Digimon set. It’s so soft and squishy. Gojo is really proud of finding them and you can’t blame him. It’s cool that he’s not afraid to have cute things like this like a lot of guys are.

“Oh. Hey, Suguru.” You look over your shoulder at him, a little nervous. Before he can grill you about being alone with his unofficial rival, you quickly explain, “I’m getting informed about Digimon.” You spin around on your ass, shoving the plushy out. “Come feel this. It’s so soft.”

Suguru scowls. “No.”

“No is right!” Gojo loudly agrees. “He’s not allowed to the nice stuff!”

“Girls aren’t allowed in our dorm,” Suguru says more to Gojo than you.

“It’s fine until dark. I already asked Yaga.”

Suddenly, there’s a tension in Suguru’s shoulders. His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow at Gojo. “Why do you know that?”

“Shouldn’t you be happy about this news?” Gojo shoots back, a clear deflection. “You can hang out with her now.”

Suguru presses a thumb to the center of his forehead. He holds that position, trying to calm himself down. When he does, he moves his attention back to you. “He didn’t pressure you to come in here, did he?”

Before Gojo can open his mouth, you swing the plushy back to hit him. The way he sputters and Suguru’s proud smirk is a sign that you hit him right in the face. “I can make decisions on my own,” you tell Suguru which wipes that little smirk right off his face. “We’re doing a show and tell…kind of. You should bring your headphones and let us listen to your music!”

“I didn’t consent to this!” Gojo complains.

This going back and forth is a little annoying, so you angle your body to face them both. To Gojo, you say, “Okay, that’s your call. This is your stuff, after all.” To Suguru, you ask, “Um…I’ll meet you in an hour? We can listen to your music then. Does that sound good?”

Gojo groans. The excitement to share outweighs his need to annoy Suguru because he concedes with an exasperated, “Fine! He can come hang out!”

“Fine,” Suguru agrees with the same amount of annoyance.

But, hey, a win is a win.

***

The last of your class moves in a few days before the semester starts. It’s early in the morning when she does, so the noise in the hallway startles you awake, and you go stumbling out of your room without a second thought to how you’re dressed. Your door opening catches your roommate’s attention and she’s looking in your direction when you walk in her line of sight.

Both of you stare wordlessly at one another. There’s a beauty mark under the corner of her eye that catches your attention before anything else. Her brunette hair is cut short, barely past her chin, and her bangs are swept to the side. You’re watched by curious, brown eyes. At first glance, you think she’s got a cigarette in her mouth, but it doesn’t have the filter on the end. It might be one of those chalky candy sticks.

“Oh! You’re so pretty!” You blurt the words out before your sleep-addled brain can catch them. Heat crawls up the back of your neck and the tips of your ears. “Sorry!”

She laughs good-naturedly. “What? Should I be offended by a pretty girl giving me compliments?” And how…do you react to that? No one has ever called you pretty before. She unintentionally throws you a bone by moving the conversation somewhere else with her name. “I’m Ieiri Shoko. Nice to meet you.”

You give her your name, bow, and the same polite, “Nice to meet you, too. I look forward to working with you.”

“We’re living together now. You don’t need to be all formal.” It’s a force of habit. You learned quickly as a child that the world revolves around politeness and manners. “Sorry for waking you.”

“That’s okay.” You hesitate. “Do you need help?”

“Please. My parents bailed. I’m lucky they even had the time to drop me off. Not sure how they even had the time to pop me out with how busy they are at the hospital.”

You’re rolling up your sleeves as you walk over to her door. “They’re…doctors?”

“Surgeons, yeah,” she answers casually. “Makes sense that I ended up with the technique that I did, even if no sorcerer in our family has ever had it. We’ve always been big on healing, or so my parents have told me.”

“What’s your technique?”

“Reverse Cursed Technique, but I can use it on myself and others. It’s rare to extend it to other people.” Your blank expression has her chuckling. “You’re from a non-sorcerer family, huh?”

Your face is back to being hot again. “Sorry. Sensei…um…I don’t think he went over that yet.”

“I’m not sure that he will. It’s advanced. Even among the best, strongest sorcerers, it’s a rare skill. Baby sorcerers only know about it because it’s a thing to aspire to, y’know?”

Whoa. “What is it? You must be really powerful, right?”

Ieiri laughs. “No way. Reverse Cursed Technique alone is healing yourself. Like I said, I can take it further and heal others. Oh, and I have this…ability to find disturbances in the mind and body.” Then, she puts her ability in practice. “I know you got your tongue pierced.”

Your fingers fly up to touch your lips. “And you think that’s not powerful?”

“Flatterer.” Between all your back and forth with her, you’ve both gotten all the boxes inside her room. She flops down on the bare mattress. “What’s your technique?”

“Nothing as cool or useful as yours, I think.” You rock back and forth on your feet nervously. “They don’t see me unless I want them to. Also, I can pacify them. Nothing more than that. I only make them calm.”

“Guess we’ll both be saving lives.” There it is again. Someone can see more purpose in your technique than you can. Your brain just can’t compute with that. You’ll just…stand there and pacify spirits. It seems like so little to save actual lives. “Are our other classmates here yet? Have you met them?”

“Yes. One of them is my best friend, actually. His name is Geto Suguru. We came from the same village and he’s from a non-sorcerer family, too. Please be patient with both of us. And our other classmate is Gojo Satoru—” Ieiri groans loudly. You smile meekly. “I guess you know that his family is important?”

“If you have even a hint of sorcery in your family, you know about the big three clans, so, yeah, I know. My parents have never been active sorcerers, but they’re in the know of the community. No one has been able to shut up about the Gojo heir since he was born. I think my parents said it’s been…hundreds of years since someone was born with the Six Eyes?”

You nod. “Right. He said something about that. They’re special.”

“That’s an understatement.” There’s a lull in the conversation and, in the silence, you hear a familiar noise. It didn’t come from you. Ieiri laughs, no hint of shame at her stomach outing her. “I guess since I woke you up that you haven’t had breakfast. Want to grab something to eat? My parents didn’t give me time to eat.”

Your brows furrow. “They’re doctors. Shouldn’t they be more worried about your nutrition?”

Ieiri just starts laughing.

***

The school term starts.

Suguru and Gojo still aren’t getting along well. It almost seems worse because when actual schoolwork starts, they’re essentially tied on their marks. In regard to their techniques, while Gojo has more cursed energy, Suguru has more refined control. Suguru also takes to martial arts extremely well and Gojo, who you’re sure has been touched even less than you have, is almost always overcome when they spar. Gojo is faster than Suguru and is learning to use that to an advantage.

As for you and Ieiri, you hope that she likes her as much as you like her. It’s…easy to be around her. You admit that you had a lot of issues with her deadpan sense of humor, but she seemed to catch on quickly and now will usually tell you if she’s joking or being sarcastic. There are also some hiccups with food because you two share cooking duty, but she starts learning what textures you hate and which you love.

In your studies, you do okay, but you’re last in the class. If Ieiri wasn’t so lazy, she’d give the guys a run for their money. You are a lot more in shape than her despite your larger size and you lay her out flat in sparring. Yaga declared that you and she would be mostly non-combatant sorcerers due to the nature of your techniques, but he insisted that you and she learn martial arts for self-defense. Actually, you’re more in shape than Gojo even. Suguru is leagues ahead of you, obviously, because he’s so much more coordinated and stronger.

About a month in, you’re given your first assignment.

And by you what you actually mean is yourself and Gojo.

In the last few years, the number of cursed spirits has been steadily increasing. There are two separate incidents with relatively low-level curses and all the higher-grade sorcerers are occupied with higher-level curses, so you and your classmates are split up in teams of two.

Suguru was not happy about the pairings, but Yaga said that you and Suguru know how to work well together already. Then, kind of bitchily, Yaga explained that if Suguru and Gojo got along better then Yaga would’ve simply had them handle both batches themselves. Later, you try to reassure Suguru by reminding him that there’s going to be a more seasoned sorcerer with you—the newly graduated Kusakabe Atsuya. You don’t think it made him feel better.

Kusakabe will meet you there. On the way to meet him, you ask Gojo, “Should we…come up with a plan?”

“Why?”

You fiddle with the metal aglet on the ends of your hooded sweatshirt’s drawstrings. “I would feel better if we did.”

“We don’t even know the layout of this place,” he points out.

“Right,” you mumble. You’d forgotten about that, honestly. “You’re right.” You slip the aglet in your mouth and chew on it nervously.

Gojo huffs. “You stop it. I blow it up. Simple as that.”

“Can I draw it first?”

“Hah?”

You squirm uncomfortably. Hesitantly, you show him your old sketchbook. You kept it in case you come across a similar cursed spirit and need to compare notes. You’ve also got your new, blank sketchbook to start a new, more official record. “I like to study them,” you explain timidly. “It’s…kinda like my Digimon…I guess…”

Gojo takes the sketchbook from you, casually flipping through the pages. “Why cursed spirits, though?”

“Why’d you pick Digimon instead of some other anime?” You shrug nervously. “It’s hard to explain. At first, I thought some of them looked really cool. I made myself get better at art so that I could draw them, in case they were exorcised somehow. Then, I wanted to know how they got those shapes. It became about their behavior next. I’ve always loved mythology and animals, too, so maybe that influenced the interest a little.”

“Hmph. Alright. I’ll try to hold off on blowing it up.” Before he turns his head away, you notice a pinkness on his cheeks. “You can talk about them with me, if you want. Like…how I talk about Digimon and stuff.”

You duck your head, face hot. “Thank you.”

The assignment doesn’t take long at all. It may take more time for you to sketch the spirits than it does for Gojo to blow them away. There were a lot of them. They all took the same form which was vaguely pufferfish shaped. You know that the weaker, tinier spirits tend to group up, and these were no different.

Their behavior around Gojo was the odd thing, though. Unless the spirit is a higher grade, spirits never reacted to Suguru when you were around. It’s not like that with Gojo. He’d held back to let you sketch, but when he stepped toward you, the group started to shift restlessly in their places. Then, when he got too close, they shot their spines out. If Gojo hadn’t dashed forward and tackled you to the ground, covering you with his Infinity-lined body, you would be a porcupine.

“It was fascinating!”

Suguru looks faint as you recount your assignment to him over dinner. You made sure to pick up something light for him since eating curses fucks with his stomach. You got him some onigiri for the morning when he’ll be ravenous, making sure to mark them as yours before you tuck them in the communal fridge. Hopefully, it’ll succeed in tricking Gojo because you have no doubt that he’d eat them to antagonize Suguru.

“I wonder what it is about Gojo that freaked them out like that,” you mutter to yourself. “You’re as strong as him. Do you think you have some sort of calming effect on them because of your technique? Or what if they can sense the spirits inside you and it confuses them?”

“No more thinking tonight, Squid,” Suguru declares and closes your sketchbook. “We have three years to figure out both our techniques.”

“Fine.”

“Well, now you just sound like Gojo with that bratty attitude.”

“It’s not bratty! It’s called being a nerd.”

Suguru gives a shake of the head as he laughs. “You can be a nerd and a brat at the same time.” You watch him start to clean up the empty food containers. His face is doing something…weird. You can’t pinpoint this particular emotion. “Squid…are you up for touch today?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Can I hold you?” Suguru, uncharacteristically vulnerable, goes on to admit, “I was worried about you today.”

“If anyone was worried, it was me. You didn’t have me there to calm the spirits down.” You two ate while sitting in the floor, so you hold your arms out to him like the brat that he accused you of being. “C’mon. I never get Suguru hugs anymore. I really miss them.”

He smiles, a little shy. “Brat.”

“No. I’m Squid, remember? You never let me forget.”

For some reason, your brain replaced hold with hug. You’re fully expecting him to help you up and give you something quick, but he doesn’t do that. He drops in behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you back between his open legs. You squeak at the manhandling and your heart starts to beat faster. When your back is against his broad chest, he slips both his arms around your middle, and leans his chin on the top of your head with a happy sigh.

“Oh,” you whisper unthinkingly.

Suguru mistakes your tension with overstimulation. “Is this okay still?”

“Yes.”

Why are you so nervous? You’re not being bombarded by stimuli, so it can’t be because of that. Actually…it feels really good to be in his arms. He’s always so warm. You feel as if his arms are all-encompassing. It makes you feel safe. It makes you feel loved. And Suguru should be feeling that way, too, so you need to push away this weirdness inside you. You twist around in his arms, putting yours around his waist, shoving your face against his hard chest.

“Squid hugs are the best hugs,” Suguru whispers.

***

“Do you know how to help with a broken nose?”

You’re in the library when Sensei appears in the doorway and asks that almost ominous question. Slowly, you put the book back on the shelf, eyeing Sensei warily. He simply looks back at you, exhaustion seeping from every pore. The resignation you see in him is familiar, too. The pieces quickly add up. The air around Sensei paired with the cryptic text that came from Suguru with only a simple apology…

Oh, no.

“I can plug up the nosebleed and make an ice pack,” you answer with an equally tired sigh.

Sensei nods and gives a curt thanks. Before you and he go your separate ways, you sheepishly ask if you can talk to Suguru before he does, but Sensei shuts that idea down immediately. You’re then held up by being given a quick yet scathing lecture about needing to let Suguru face the consequences of his own actions and to stop coddling him. You bow profusely in apology as he’s leaving the room.

Ieiri is away on a research trip of sorts. Being taught the human body and putting her technique into use. Thankfully, she said she’ll be back today, but not until later tonight. Gojo is stuck with your shabby patchwork until then. So, you grab a first-aid kit, fill up an ice pack, and meet him in the classroom that Sensei told you he’d be waiting in.

Gojo has an arm against his face, likely trying to stop the bleeding since it’s stained. You wordlessly get to work. Unfortunately, you have experience with nosebleeds and broken nose. Noses? Can a nose be broken twice? Suguru’s nose still sits crooked from his father’s rage.

“Pinch,” you order softly after you take Gojo’s hand and move his fingers to the bridge of his nose. You reach for his face, pausing as he flinches when you get close. You give him a moment to prepare before you guide him to tilt his head back with gentle hands along his jawline. Blood is smeared all across his lower face and still dripping down from his nostrils. You cringe at the sight. Suguru got him good. “This might hurt,” you warn before you pack his nose with gauze.

“No lecture?” Gojo’s voice is high and nasally.

“You don’t think you’ll be getting one from Sensei?” You grab a damp, warm cloth and start wiping away the blood. “Besides, whatever you did, you got a broken nose for it. What else do I need to say?”

“Might prefer the broken nose over your disappointment,” he says with a pout.

“I’m not disappointed.” You pause. “I don’t think I am, anyway.”

Gojo leans his head back even further, sighing dramatically. “Your BFF is scary when he’s angry.”

“Suguru does this thing where he’ll hold all his emotions close. They sit there, building up pressure, and then one day, he’ll just explode. So, yeah, that’s a little scary. Not so much for me, though. I only worry.” He pouts more. “What’s that face for?”

“No worry for me?”

Your hands hesitate. “Maybe kind of?” Should you say what you want to? Eh. Gojo rarely cares. Why should you? “I’d love it if you two could get along, so I worry that this might keep that from happening forever, but…you probably pushed him. I could be wrong, but you probably deserved this.”

Gojo throws his clean arm over his eyes. “Yeah…I did…” Oh? That’s certainly a change of heart. “No one has ever touched me like that before…” There’s a redness on his cheeks now that doesn’t come from the blood stains. Is he embarrassed that he lost or something? “Why aren’t you and Suguru scared of me?” He tries to lean his head back down, but you keep him in place with a hand gripping his chin. “See? See! Not even my family touches me so casually!”

“What? Is your family actually scared of you?”

“Yeah. Always have been, even if they pretend not to be. They treat me like a god to hide it, but I learned. Everyone is scared of me. Maids apologized for touching me by accident when I was a kid and needed help getting dressed.” Your incredulousness must make him self-conscious because he shrugs. “C’mon, you’ve been around long enough now to pick up on this, Sketch. I’m the jujutsu world’s weapon.”

Normally, you’re immune to being shocked by Gojo’s directness. Not this time. “It’s stupid if you believe that.” Ugh. You’re so pissed off right now. You want to punch someone. That was his mother on the first day that he came to campus, right? Can she come back? Does she have Infinity? “You’re bleeding and breathing right now, aren’t you? Weapons don’t do that. Gods don’t get migraines because of their special eyes. You’re a human. You’re Gojo Satoru.”

“But who is Gojo Satoru if he’s not those things?”

“A sugar-addicted brat who pushes when he shouldn’t,” you intone. He giggles, taking it as the joke it’s supposed to be. “Aren’t you too young to be having an identity crisis? I can’t tell you who you are. I’m not even sure I know who I am. Don’t they say you’re supposed to figure that out in high school or something?”

“Dunno,” he mumbles.

The blood is cleaned from his face. You reach for the icepack but falter. You don’t feel like you’ve said anything helpful. If anything, you feel like you’ve put him in a bad spot. So, you try to reassure him. “It’s okay to take time to figure out who you are, Gojo—”

“Satoru.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Satoru…please…”

“Ah.” You can understand why he wants to be so informal. If he wants to distance himself from his stupid family, you’re more than happy to oblige. “Okay.” He yelps when you press the icepack against his nose. “Let’s all try to get along from now on, okay…Satoru.”

Later, you have Suguru’s big hand in yours while you carefully dab antiseptic on the cuts all over them. You know that this isn’t solely from punching Satoru in the nose, but you don’t press Suguru about it. He hasn’t spoken since you knocked on the door to his dorm room and you’re okay with that. You’ve been through this routine before. It’s what you two do. You patch each other up, being a silent and steady presence until whoever is upset wants to talk.

When you’ve cleaned all his cuts, you try to clean up all the pieces of paper from the band-aids, but Suguru stops you. He slips his fingers through yours and your entwined hands hover in the air between you two. You watch as he intensely studies your hands, so you do the same. When did his hands get so much bigger than yours? How do your hands feel to him, you wonder, because his are so rough. You like the difference, though.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru finally apologizes. “I broke the sunglasses you gave him.”

You huff in amusement. That’s what he’s worried about? “It’s okay.”

“They were your first purchase in Tokyo.”

Ah, you sometimes kind of hate how well he knows you. You do tend to assign some importance to seemingly unimportant trinkets. “I think I’m more attached to the piercings that we got together. I’ll probably keep this somewhere when I finally have to get a new barbell.” You stick out your tongue, as if he’s forgotten the piercing.

“I would’ve given you that first set of earrings if that was the case,” Suguru grumbles. Shoko had used you and Suguru as guinea pigs for her technique and healed your piercings, so Suguru quickly started the process of stretching his ears. As he said, he’d thrown away that first set of earrings.

“I know it’s weird to ask that sort of thing.”

“It’s you, Squid. Nothing is weird anymore.”

“Hmm, sounds like a challenge. I need to find something to disturb you.”

“Please don’t.”

“I’ll be nice for now because you had a bad day.”

“Bad day doesn’t even begin to cover it.” There’s a tired slump in his shoulders now. “He was playing around too much. Instead of exorcising the curse or letting me absorb it, he kept taunting it. The spirit threw me out a window trying to get to him, so I got pissed. I absorbed it and punched him in the face.” He pauses before lowly confessing, “I punched him a second time when I saw the sunglasses broke because I thought they were special to you. I was upset at myself for losing my temper and mad at him for not being careful with them even though it was my fault.”

You hum. “Is that guilt, Suguru?”

“Guilt for the sunglasses.”

“Right.” Again, you’re not pushing, but you doubt he doesn’t feel bad in some way. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be as melancholic as he is right now. “I’m going to let you sit on this, but…I think Satoru actually feels bad, so he might apologize. I didn’t tell him to, by the way. Just like I’m not telling you to forgive him. But I thought you should know.”

Suguru’s brow twitches. “You’re on first name basis with him now?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh. He’s just doing it to piss me off.”

You’re the one to feel a flash of irritation now. “Doing what exactly? Being my friend? Are you saying that he can’t actually want to be my friend without some ulterior motive?”

Then, he rolls his eyes. Rolls his eyes! “Squid, you’re just reaching now. You know that’s not what I’m saying—”

“What are you saying, then? Has he said something bad that I don’t know about?”

The corners of his eyes are tight. Through gritted teeth, he answers, “No.”

“Okay. So, what’s the problem?”

“I just don’t trust him around you, okay?”

“You just said that he hasn’t done anything shady other than wanting to be my friend.” You yank your hands away from his, baring your teeth. “Am I not allowed to have those? Are you going to say that you don’t trust Shoko around me either?”

Then, he has the audacity to look hurt. “No! That’s not what I’m saying at all! You’re allowed to have friends!”

“Okay! Satoru and Shoko are my friends, too!” Are you overreacting? Tears prick at the corners of your eyes which makes you feel even more stupid. Why are you about to cry? Stupid, stupid, stupid brain. “I’m going back to my room. I’ve got blood under my nails and I fucking hate it.”

“Squid, I’m sorry—”

“Save it, Suguru.”

When you’re woken up by tapping against your window at one in the morning, you seriously debate shoving a pillow over your head and ignoring him. There’s a part of you that wants to let him stew in his guilt. You can’t keep forgiving him as soon as he comes running.

This seems like an insignificant thing to stay mad over, though…

After you take a deep breath, you roll out of bed, walk over to your window, and open it up for him to climb through.

Suguru genuinely does look miserable. More than punching Satoru or breaking your sunglasses made him. When he apologizes, you accept it. And when he shyly asks if he can sleepover, you let him. It’s been years since you guys have shared a bed, but your parents aren’t around to send him home.

Suguru said your hugs are the best hugs, but you have to disagree. You know you’ll wake up in the morning, skin slick with sweat, because he’s a furnace, but you’ve missed this. It’s always been so easy to let Suguru touch you. It got to the point where even the touch of your parents would make you wince, but not his. He asks, but you always say yes. You’re never overwhelmed by the way his big body curls around yours.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru apologizes one last time before you both fall asleep. “I’m scared to lose you,” he slurs sleepily.

“Never,” you mumble right back. “You’ll never lose me.”

***

Five months into the term, it’s time for the annual Goodwill Event.

This year wasn’t the best for Tokyo recruitment, so it’s only your class in the entire school. It’s not the same for Kyoto. They only have one person in their third year, Iori Utahime, but the rest of the years have more students. Normally, first years aren’t allowed to compete, and Tokyo would simply forfeit this year, but because of Suguru and Satoru’s strength, an exception is made.

Kyoto brings a total of eight students—three girls, five boys. Two judges come with them, too—their principal, Gakuganji, and a Grade 1 sorcerer, Mei-Mei.

It’s been about two months after the big Suguru-Satoru Blowout. As you predicted, they apologized to each other not long after the incident. Dare you say, they might be more than simple acquaintances now. Dare you say, they might actually be sort of friends. They’ve really bonded over being assholes, actually. They’re still stupidly competitive and bicker, but it’s no longer malicious. They can exist in the same space as you and there’s no more awkwardness. You spend time with them together and it’s so much fun.

The Goodwill Event reminds you of that deep-rooted fear of Suguru’s, though. A fear that you had before you left the village, you remember suddenly. It finally happens. Suguru is adored. Fawned over. Truly seen for the first time in your lives. The same is done to Satoru, too, but you banked on that happening. And, technically, it makes sense. Guys want their power and girls just want them period.

It was stupid to pretend that your school exists in a bubble. In the back of your mind, you’ve known that you’d eventually have to meet other sorcerers and that not everyone will like you. You’ve prepared yourself for that, haven’t you? It shouldn’t bother you that the Kyoto students barely even acknowledge your existence when you’re in the same space as Suguru and Satoru. You get it, right? They’re admirable. Shoko is awed at for her technique, too, and that’s great! It’s wonderful!

Just four days, you remind yourself as you’re sitting under a tree by yourself and shoving food in your mouth. Four days, and then the Kyoto students will be gone. It’s okay, you chant to yourself. No one noticed you leave, but you wanted some air, anyway. And, hey, you even made a friend! Sure, Shoko had to introduce you to her and break the ice between you two, but Iori has a sharp tongue and awesome sense of humor. A senpai to truly look up to. If you can get along with one new person then you can get along with the rest.

“Yo! Sketch!”

You pause right before you take a bite of your tamagoyaki. “Satoru?” Fruit sando and melon soda in hand, he easily flops down next to you at the base of the tree. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s exhausting dealing with all those brown nosers.” He takes an aggressive chunk out of his sandwich. “Ugh. I can’t believe we’re gonna have to share a dorm with these assholes for four days. I don’t need a bunch of strangers in my business.” His lip curls in disgust. “Suguru lecture you about playing nice?”

“Yes.” You take a grumpy bite out of your tamagoyaki. “I’m trying not to stress about it, but they were already talking about breakfast, and I can’t imagine the mess they’ll make.” It’s a struggle not to snap your chopsticks from the death grip that you’ve got on them. “Suguru says that I need to learn how to handle my routine being interrupted better.”

Satoru huffs. “Easy for him to say.”

Well, it makes you feel a lot better to know that someone else understands your pain. “All we can do is our best.”

“Or we can make their lives hell.”

You duck your head, trying to hide your smile. “It wouldn’t kill you to play nice with others, Satoru.”

“Naw, I think it actually would.”

“You’re nice to me.”

“Sketch is different.” Heat explodes in your cheeks. You outright turn your head away, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much he flustered you with that. Since he doesn’t tease you, he didn’t see. “We should stay in a hotel. We could do one of those capsule hotels, y’know?”

“And have my knees and elbows bumping against the sides? No way.” You stick your tongue out in disgust. After the third bump of a limb, you know it would drive you insane. Besides, “Would you even fit in one of those?” Ah. Wait. Were you supposed to take that seriously? “Were you joking?”

You look back over at him and he’s scratching the bridge of his nose. “Not really.”

“Ha. Okay, so, a couple of things—I think we’re too young to book a room, and a girl and boy in the same room? Scandalous.”

He gives an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”

Sympathetic to his plight, you reach over to pat his knee. “Hang in there.”

These days, it’s a little easier for you to pick up on the kind of mood Satoru is in. It’s the second day now, early in the morning, and you’re dragged by Shoko to the designated gathering spot of Tokyo and Kyoto students. Just by the way that Satoru lashes out at people, purposely baiting them with taunts and cruel bluntness, you can tell that he’s in as bad a mood as you are. And you can’t blame him.

The other two girls on the Kyoto side are Ota Juri and Takata Tenka. They cleaned up after themselves, but they moved everything around in the kitchen and didn’t put it back in the original spot, so you got pissed off trying to find where something went. You could live with that, but they’re also…invasive. After they went looking for Suguru and Satoru yesterday and found the boys with you, their attitude toward you quickly changed. They think they’re slick, subtly probing about your friendship with Suguru and Satoru. They try to act familiar now, getting touchy, thinking that’ll warm you up to them faster.

To say that you’re on a wire’s edge today would be an understatement. You don’t know which one suggested it, but you want to deck whichever one of these girls suggested shopping as a way to build comradery between the sister schools and the people you may be working with in the future. They just want to experience the Tokyo scene like they probably couldn’t get permission to ride a train here on any other day.

At the mall, Ota and Takata take the lead. They have very domineering personalities, so their classmates allow the girls to drag them along. You try to sneak away, sometimes with Shoko and Iori behind you, but Ota and Takata hunt you down—probably trying to show off how caring they are to Suguru and Satoru or something. Eventually, you stop trying. You shut up and linger at the back of the group.

You try to do that, anyway.

Shoko, as equally over this trip, drags you into the beauty store because if she’s going down, you’re going with her.

“Aren’t you going to get anything?” Ota questions as you’re just passively glancing over products. You almost miss the question because you’re teetering on the edge of overstimulation. Why do beauty stores have to use so much fluorescent lighting? You forgot your fucking sunglasses.

“I’m not big into makeup. I don’t like how it feels on my face.”

Ota laughs obnoxiously. “You’re just using the wrong product, silly.”

You force a smile. “My mom already tested a bunch out with me. I just really don’t like any of it.”

Takata has been eavesdropping. She takes up Ota’s side, smiling as predatory as Ota is now. “Was it the foundation? I know the liquid can be heavy. Have you tried powder?” You lose control of your temper a little and roll your eyes. Don’t these girls know how to take no for an answer? “Don’t be like that,” Takata scolds. “Look, you could stand to use some makeup. We’re trying to help you.”

“Help how?”

If Satoru hadn’t spoken up ahead of time, you’d probably tip over when he practically drapes himself on your shoulder.

Ota and Takata perk up at his presence. You can almost see the hearts in their eyes. “Satoru!” Takata chirps.

“Oi, oi, oi, you’re getting awfully familiar there. Who gave you first name privilege, huh?”

Her syrupy sweet smiles falter. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought—”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Steam might start spewing from your ears. It’s obvious you don’t have a lot going on up there.”

Takata deflates at the insult. “Sa—Gojo—” her gaze flickers to you. Pleading for you to intervene. When she gets nothing from you, she scrambles. “I’m sorry if we offended you somehow—”

“Not me you should be apologizing to.” Your eyes widen. Is he doing this for you? “Y’know, Sketch, it’s good that someone has some sense around here. Make sure you don’t get attached to these idiots, okay? They’ll be so busy thinking about makeup that they’ll up as bloody smears on the wall pretty soon.”

You frown as you look up at him. “What if I do want makeup?”

He brightens. “Can I buy you something?”

Try to make the favoritism less obvious, you think with a twitch of the brow. “Find an art store and we’ll talk.”

“Eh? I already did,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world that he would go scouting for art supply stores. “Can we leave now? I’m bored,” he whines. You hope you’re not gawking when you nod. “Awesome! Let’s go! I found a shop that sells sweets, too!”

Suguru is hovering at the entrance of the store, brows furrowed in concern, but he steps out of the way for you and Satoru, who is practically dragging you out with a grip on your wrist. Suguru isn’t allowed confusion or shock because Satoru is snatching his hand on the way out.

“Satoru, you’re going to rip my arm off,” Suguru complains when the other students are out of sight.

Satoru stops dead in his tracks, so sudden that you and Suguru almost crash into him. He looks over his shoulder at you both. The angle you’re in allows you to see the wideness of his eyes. He still hasn’t let go of your wrist. Actually, his grip tightens, which makes Suguru get huffier.

“Satoru,” he calls out exasperatedly.

Oh.

You’re not sure if Suguru has realized it himself, but he’s using Satoru’s given name now. No wonder Satoru is stunned. It’s so odd. What changed between this morning and now? Because Suguru was definitely referring to him as his surname earlier. You won’t ask because Suguru might clam up and this peace may shatter.

“Oh. Uh. Sorry,” Satoru mutters as he finally releases his hold on you and Suguru.

On the fourth and final day of the Goodwill Event, something…weird happens during your individual match.

Tokyo easily won the team battle. The individual battles are where Kyoto can even the odds. The thing is that Satoru and Suguru are going to win their individual match. As much as you adore her, you expected that Shoko would lose hers, and she did. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but you think that she flirted with Iori more than fight, but Iori didn’t allow herself to get too flustered, and took the win.

You think that Kyoto expects you to lose your match because plans were already made about the tiebreaker. There would be a random draw for one last individual match to decide which school wins the day. There was no word on what would be done to break the tie if each school has their own point.

So, your win is an upset.

If you’re honest with yourself, you didn’t think that you’d win, either. It didn’t look good. It was your luck that you were pitted against the biggest guy on Kyoto’s side. Not as tall as Suguru and Satoru, sure, but the guy is built like a literal tank. During the team battle, if Suguru hadn’t summoned a cursed spirit in time to cushion the blow, this guy would’ve knocked him out with a single punch.

You didn’t stand a chance at winning, you’d told yourself as you were running through the forest, but after the whole mall fiasco, you wanted to try to last long enough to not be the laughingstock of this year.

As soon as the siren sounded, you went running. Your opponent supplemented his lack of technique with shikigami use, so you had time while he channeled energy into an intermediary to summon his shikigami. You’re trying to think of a plan on the fly, not sure what to do since your technique is useless against people.

This would be easier if there weren’t still so many fucking cursed spirits left in the forest. You’re pacifying them, obviously, but you still have to duck around them. Ugh, why can’t you control them like Suguru can? No, at this point…

I wish you would just die, please. Bloody and painfully would be preferred.

And, as soon as you have that thought, the big curse that you were dashing past moves. Your body freezes on instinct. The spirit shouldn’t be moving around you. Your technique is still active. At the most, this curse is Grade 3. It raises a clawed hand, and you throw your arms up, ready to protect yourself from a whole new problem.

There’s a sickening crunch and the curse screeches in pain. Purple blood splatters across the front of you. When you drop your arms, confused as to what attacked the spirit and saved you, you watch the gruesome scene of the curse slowly ripping limbs away from its body. It still has that dead-eyed look that spirits get when you’ve pacified them, but it moves with an urgency to tear itself apart.

Once the curse has only one arm left, it proceeds to push its arm through its own chest, grabbing its heart. That heart is thrown at your feet. Then, as its final act, it slowly twists its head around until it’s the opposite way, pulls its head off, and the curse finally crumbles to pieces.

What the fuck happened?

From your left, there’s more of those crunches and high-pitched screeching. A curse in the shape of a centipede is trying to crawl toward you between picking legs off with its pincers. At your feet, the curse keeps gnawing at itself, screeching in pain every now and then, until it, too, finally dies and crumbles.

If you didn’t hear the loud roar of your opponent’s shikigami, you’d still be standing there in shock. Your mind runs faster than your legs. That’s not normal behavior. Self-preservation is ingrained into a curse…unless it’s forced like with Suguru. You asked them to die. Moreso, you wanted it to be bloody and painful. The curses listened.

You purposely seek out another spirit now. Die, you mentally scream at the first spirit you see. Unlike with the others, this one doesn’t take time to mutilate itself. It tears its head clean off and that’s it. Blood splatters across your shoes briefly before it fades away with the cursed spirit.

A plan slowly takes shape.

Didn’t you and Shoko stumble across a pack of fly heads yesterday? You’d split up because you knew Kyoto would try to follow Satoru’s presence and get to the winning Grade 2 before you. The fly heads weren’t a bother and the bell had rung sounding your win, anyway.

Where were those? By the river, right? Yes!

You’re getting tired from running and burning cursed energy. You’re pretty sure that you only have one shot at this because you’ll either pass out from exhaustion or get your ass beat by a shikigami. So, yeah, you need to make this count.

The fly heads haven’t moved far.

Kyoto Guy and his shikigami aren’t far behind you.

Just as they’re running out of the tree line, you look at the pacified fly heads. Protect me, you plead them, but that’s too much to ask. It was a test. The fly heads don’t move, but you’re forced to when the shikigami lunges. That thing is sporting some nasty fangs that catch on your arm as you narrowly dodge it.

You play this game of cat and mouse, luring the shikigami away from the sorcerer. All you need is for Kyoto Guy to get close enough to the fly heads. He’s an asshole, laughing cruelly as he watches you scramble away from his shikigami, getting bloodier as you get sloppier from fatigue. Iori was gossiping with you and Shoko, and this guy has a crush on Takata. You figure he’s not happy about Satoru’s cruelty which was a result of him defending you.

Explode! You plead the fly heads when Kyoto Guy steps in their range. Explode, explode, explode!

They do.

The shikigami immediately drops the fight with you, thinking the fly heads are the more immediate threat. Like little paint bombs, the fly heads splatter their blood across Kyoto Guy when they force themselves to combust. There are so many of them that he’s continually being splattered.

While he’s blinded by the blood of cursed spirits, you pour cursed energy into your fist. Sprinting past the shikigami that’s snapping at fly heads, you give this asshole a ferocious kick to the balls to get him to hunch over.

You slam your fist square in the center of his face. There’s so much force in the punch that he goes flying back, landing in the shallow river with such a painful sounding thud, and he doesn’t get up. You’d think you killed him if it wasn’t for the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

The alarm sounds.

Tokyo wins.

Later, you’re walking out of the infirmary behind Shoko who proudly announces, “She gave him a concussion!”

Sensei gives you all a lecture on good sportsmanship after Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko break out into applause and cheers.

#my fic #jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk gojo #jjk geto #autistic gojo #autistic reader

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