#to be able to run one of these tournaments. i sure as hell know i couldn't and I'm not stupid enough to run one about animatronics either

[nadvs]

the power play (part eight) (end)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

Time folds into itself as you lie in Rafe’s bed, slipping in and out of a tired daze, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat.

When he shifts and exhales a sharp wince, you don’t know how many minutes have passed, but you’re sure it’s time to leave, to give him all the space he can get in his bed.

“I should go,” you whisper, sitting up slowly.

He’s in a trance, his shoulder aching, exhaustion seeped into his bones.

Your warmth is gone.

He sees your figure in the dark.

You leave as quietly as possible.

════════

The next day, Rafe walks out through the campus gym doors after meeting with his coach and physical therapist. Turns out the tear isn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been, but as expected, there’s no chance in hell he can play for a while. He’s out of tournament.

He’s lost. It’s like he forgot his own name. Hockey is the constant in his life, or it was, and it’s messing with his head that he won’t be spending hours training or practicing or playing anymore. Instead, he’ll either be in physio or resting, and the closest he can get to the ice is on the bench.

His coach had said that at least it happened at the end of the season, that he’s only a sophomore with so much ahead of him, but all Rafe can feel is disappointment ripping through him.

His phone buzzes with a text from you.

I hope you’re ok. Guessing you can’t make it today?

Right. It’s Thursday. He’s supposed to meet you for tutoring in an hour.

If he never hurt himself last night, if today was a normal day, he’d be in class right now, his morning workout done, his body buzzing with the hot anticipation that he feels every time he’s about to see you.

But today’s far from normal. You said nothing after he kissed you last night. He’s an idiot for making a move on a girl who’d told him so many times that she doesn’t want a boyfriend.

But you’re the one who curled up next to him, who cried over his pain as if it were your own, who told him you care about him.

It’s insane what you do to him. He never runs in circles like this, never dwells on what a girl might be thinking, because he doesn’t have to. In any other situation, he’d cut to the chase and tell you that he wants you.

But the embarrassment from what happened last night still stings. He wouldn’t survive it, hearing you say you don’t see him like that, that you’re not looking for a relationship. When he’s so sure it’d end in an awkward rejection, what’s the point?

After everything that happened in the last 24 hours, it’s a loss he wouldn’t be able to cope with.

════════

You’re writing in your agenda as you wait in the study room, your pen smoothly gliding over paper. Your phone is sitting beside your notebook, and you unlock it to reread Rafe’s text from half an hour ago.

I can make it.

You’re tense about seeing him after last night.

You don’t know what to do. There’s no misinterpreting it. He kissed your forehead and there’s no way he would do that if he didn’t feel something deeper than friendship for you.

Still, it’s sad how hard it is to believe that a guy sees you like that, all because of the mark that Beck left on you. Rafe had once called you clueless about this stuff, and he was right.

The memory of how he’d snapped at you in the car that night serves as a reminder of how cold he can be, and how you’re not entirely confident you could handle loving someone like that.

You’re carrying too much baggage. So is he. You’d thought Rafe came into your life at the perfect time, but if anything, the timing couldn’t be worse.

You’re still working through your heartbreak and you don’t know if you can be with someone when you need to work on yourself. Especially when that someone distances himself from you whenever you ask the wrong question.

You’re scared. If you gave Rafe your heart, truly, all the way, there’s no telling if it’d be in good hands.

His broad figure appears in the doorway, his expression guarded.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you say. You motion to your own arm, immediately noticing that he’s not wearing the sling you saw him in last night. “You don’t need the…?”

“It’s not that bad,” Rafe murmurs, nudging the door shut with his good elbow.

“I thought you tore it,” you say, your voice laced with concern. He sits down with his elbow bent, his injured arm tight against his body.

“I’m not going to need surgery or anything,” he repeats what he discussed earlier at the gym. “Few months of physio and meds and I’ll be good.”

“And rest, right?” you say. “You forgot to mention rest.”

“What do you know?” he says with a small smirk.

You mirror his smile, glad that although something so awkward is weighing over both of you, you can share a lighthearted moment.

“A lot,” you reply. You hold up your pen. “Do I need to give you another reminder tattoo?”

He scoffs, but he’s not sure he could tell you no if he tried, especially if the offer includes you touching him.

To your surprise, he lays his forearm on the desk. You chuckle, leaning forward, gently writing rest! on the inside of his wrist, right where you’d written your study room number on him all those nights ago.

“I think I have a future in this,” you say, admiring your work. He gazes at you as you tilt your head and blow cool air over the wet ink. “How are you?”

“Good,” he answers, in a melancholy daze. “You?”

“I’m good,” you reply. You meet his eyes again. “So, only a few months until you’re better? What’s the healing process going to be like?”

“The physio gave me a whole list of crap I gotta do,” he answers with a sigh.

“Do you have it with you?”

He hands you the sheet of paper jammed at the side of his backpack. You read over the instructions, tips on managing pain, on the importance of nutrition and rest, on avoiding rigorous activities.

You skim over one of the bullet-points in the middle. Sleep on your back with the injured arm supported.

“They even tell you how to sleep?” you try to joke. “So, you shouldn’t have someone else on top of you. Lesson learned.”

What happened last night is out in the open now, the atmosphere strained with tension. Your eyes are still on the page. He can see you’re uncomfortable and he respects that you’re addressing it.

“I shouldn’t have…” He grimaces, embarrassed all over again. He has no choice but to brush the kiss off, to lie his way out of this. “I was on a lot of painkillers last night.”

He wants you to look disappointed so badly that it makes him ache, because then he’d take his words back and call bullshit on himself. But when you glance up at him, the look on your face is one of relief.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, looking back down at the paper. You’re alleviated of your anxiety. He either didn’t mean the kiss, or he doesn’t want it to turn into something, and it’s better this way. Safer. “How often do you have to do therapy?”

Rafe tells himself he can deal with the hurt later, that now’s not the time to lose it, even though he’s on the edge. He pulls his laptop out of his bag, finding it so much harder now that he can’t use both arms.

“Twice a week,” he answers, his words stiff.

“And exercises you have to do on your own,” you murmur sympathetically, reading over the page. “This is a lot. I bet you can get accommodations for school. Deadline extensions at the very least.”

You put the paper down, smoothing out the wrinkles, trying to make sense of why your heart is racing right now. Rafe throws you for such a loop that you don’t even know how it’s possible to be both eased and troubled by him shrugging off what happened last night.

“I’m really sorry you can’t play anymore,” you tell him.

“Nothing I can do about it now.”

His scowl is hard as he logs in onto his computer, typing with one hand.

“I’m not just saying this,” you tell him. “The team wouldn’t have made it so far without you.”

He doesn’t need the reminder of what he’s lost, the agony of how much work he put in just to spend the rest of the school year behind the boards.

“Those guys will be fine,” he says with a sardonic chuckle.

It hurts you to see him so sure of it.

“No way,” you reply. “They’ll miss you.”

His throat is raw and he wishes he could just disappear right now, because he’s seconds away from breaking down. His eyes burn and he swallows it down, forcing everything he’s feeling away.

“Let’s not do this, okay?” he says sharply, his gaze still off you.

And with that, Rafe proves your point. That it’s not just you who might be emotionally unavailable, but him, too. Even after what you’d done last night, even after you’ve shared so much with him, you’re kept at an arm’s length, good enough to kiss, but not good enough to be honest with.

“Did you finish the book?” you ask.

“No,” he states, stoic and disinterested.

You’d normally call him out for his bad attitude, but after what he’s gone through, you’d just feel guilty for it.

You compel yourself to just be his tutor right now – not his friend, not the girl he pretended to date – but his tutor, tasked with one job and one job only.

Rafe finally lets his eyes land where they want to be most, on you, when you ask if you can take his laptop to start working on the next assignment.

But you won’t look at him back. He can tell that you don’t want to.

════════

The moment Rafe gets to his dorm room after your tutoring session, he feels like he’s stalling with nothing left to drive him. His thoughts are tangled together, his body aches, and he has no idea what to do next.

He sits on the edge of his bed. He should probably look over those recovery instructions again, email his profs and teaching assistants about accommodations, do some school work to keep himself busy, but it’s like he’s frozen.

He looks down at the floor, his vision going blurry. The only person, if anyone, he could talk to about this right now is you.

But he can’t even do that. Especially not when you’re mad at him. He snapped, and then you were distant and talked only about his schoolwork for the rest of your hour together.

He feels like shit for how he treated you. He didn’t expect to do it, but you can be so stubborn, forcing him to talk about shit that he can’t talk about.

He lies in bed, still in painful disbelief of how quickly things can change, and how he has no control over any of them.

════════

It’s nearing six p.m. when Rafe wakes up. He checks his messages, hoping you texted him like he always does when he picks up his phone. But of course, there’s nothing from you.

He reads over the team’s group chat texts that he didn’t get to answering. After a few messages asking Rafe how he is after Coach told everyone he’s out for the season, some of the guys texted about a party tonight.

Being surrounded by noise and getting a break from reality sounds like just what he needs. And because he misses you and has no willpower when it comes to you, he texts you: Down to go to a party tonight?

You reply minutes later: Look at your tattoo.

He smirks to himself, glancing down at the word you’d written on his skin, and texts you again: I’ll just be standing there. That counts as rest.

You’re walking through campus to grab dinner, staring at your phone as you weave through crowds, your stomach in a knot.

It’s been that way since Rafe left the study room earlier today. You hate that you’re back in this headspace, overanalyzing, wondering what a man really feels about you.

You did it for years with Beck, going back and forth between being sure he liked you and feeling sad that he didn’t.

It shouldn’t be this complicated. You have fun with Rafe. He gets you, and you think you get him. He’s flawed, but so are you, and that doesn’t mean things can’t work out.

But it feels impossible. You’re not sure you can give each other what you both need. And you’re still hurting from the way he’d brushed you off today yet again, refusing to let you in.

With an aching heart, you text back: Sorry, I can’t tonight.

════════

Rafe’s limbs are heavy and hot as he leans against a wall, surrounded by his closest friends on the team. He’s letting them do the talking, too in his head to even think about having any real fun.

He wishes you were here.

He heads towards the kitchen to grab a drink. He spots a familiar face. And it’s the last thing he needs.

“Hey,” Emma says, leaning over the counter as she fills up a cup. “Where’s your little girlfriend? Not hanging onto you like usual?”

It’s the first words she’s spoken to him since their breakup. That night feels like a lifetime ago.

“What the fuck are you doing talking to me?” he mutters.

Her eyebrow raises in that infuriating way that tells him she’s enjoying getting a rise out of him.

“Warning you,” she laughs. “She’s kind of twisted. I don’t know if a normal person would hear all about your red flags and then like, cling onto you.”

“What’d you say to her?” he asks, his jaw tensing.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“We don’t talk about you.”

Rafe hates that it’s a lie, that he wasted so much of his limited time with you talking about someone else.

“I just told her the truth,” she says.

His nostrils flare as he glares down at her, at a loss for how he ever thought he saw any good in her. After he’s gotten to know you, after he’s seen what it’s like when someone treats him like he’s not a burden, he could never want someone like Emma again.

“I’m sure it’s nothing she hasn’t seen for herself by now,” she says when he doesn’t respond. “Obviously, she heard what an asshole you are. That must be her type. Or it could’ve been the part I said about how pathetic you were, crying to get back together. Maybe she wants to fix you.”

So, that was your first impression of him. That’s what you’ve kept from him.

Rafe heads back to his friends without saying another word. There was a time he was dying for Emma to talk to him. Now, he can’t waste another second around her.

He got what he wanted. She’s jealous. And that guy he saw her with before isn’t around.

He won.

But the victory is hollow.

════════

“It’s not pretty,” Isaac tells you, one foot outside the locker room, “but I got everybody to write something.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the card. You look around the hall again, as if Rafe will catch you, even though you know he wouldn’t be in this part of the arena right before the semi-final game.

“I did say I owe you,” he replies.

“He’s watching from the bench?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Isaac answers, wincing. “How is he?”

“Fine, I guess,” you reply with a sad shrug. “He won’t really talk about it.”

You haven’t heard from Rafe since last night after you texted him back. But based on how Isaac’s acting, you can tell he hasn’t told anyone about your breakup, saving you from having to come up with any explanations.

“The guy’s a vault,” Isaac half-chuckles.

You nod, glancing down at the card, opening it up to see messy, scribbled messages from the guys on the hockey team written across the inside.

You’d bought the blank card at an on-campus convenience store after asking Isaac if the team did anything to commemorate Rafe after his forced departure. When he told you everyone was too preoccupied with the tournament, you took it upon yourself to do something.

You’re not upset with Rafe anymore. Not after you’ve taken time to reflect that he doesn’t have to tell you anything he doesn’t want to, no matter how much you wish he would. Not when you recall how heartbroken he was when he insinuated that his teammates won’t miss him.

“It’s nice of you to do this for him,” Isaac offers.

“Thanks. I think he needs to hear that people care about him.” You take a step back. “Good luck tonight.”

════════

It’s difficult for you to even imagine watching the semi-finals. You tell Lyla you’re too swamped with studying to attend.

The truth is that you know sitting in those stands will just make you feel the lack of Rafe, the wrongness of him not being on the ice, the gap in your chest that he left.

It’ll break your heart to see him on the bench, instead of in the game where he belongs.

You stop by his dorm room to slide the card under his door. And then, you go home to distract yourself with schoolwork, hoping that with enough time, you can finally feel like yourself again.

════════

You send the text a few minutes after you check to see that the team won, left with one more game to potentially win the championship.

Can you come over?

Nerves stitch your stomach when you receive his response that he’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Eventually, there are soft raps on your door, and when you open it, Beck looks exactly how you expected him to. Confused.

“I’m going to talk,” you tell him, “and I want you to listen and be honest with me, got it?”

He nods, brows furrowed as you step aside. He walks into your room, leaning against your desk as you sit on your bed.

You take a deep breath, nervous but already relieved that years of pressure will be off your shoulders after you say this.

“You know what you did to me,” you say, “and I don’t want you to pretend like you don’t. You strung me along. For years. You knew I liked you, didn’t you?”

Beck glances to the side, adjusting in his haphazard seat.

“It's not like I…” he mumbles.

“What?”

“I liked you, too,” he says, looking like it pains him to admit it. “I – I do like you. Still.”

It’s not what you expected.

“Since when?” you say in a huff of disbelief.

“It’s been a long time,” he answers.

You can only scoff. He sighs, clearly uncomfortable.

“You’re my sister’s best friend,” he says quietly. “Can you imagine how weird it would be if it didn’t work out?”

It’s a sudden, overwhelming realization, hitting you like an ice cold wave. The only reason he never acted on his feelings was because he was afraid of a mere possibility. Maybe it wouldn’t end well, so he saw no reason to even try.

“That’s why?” you say. “Why not just tell me?”

“Because of this,” he says tensely, motioning between you.

“Because of an awkward conversation?” you say. “How is that any better than what happened after your final? You stopped talking to me after that.”

“I thought… with time, we’d go back to how it was,” he mumbles. “And that maybe, we’d both just lose feelings. But then you started dating Rafe and… I can’t handle seeing it. You shouldn’t be with him.”

You hate how he said Rafe’s name, as if it was a swear word. It’s the only thing you can focus on. Not that he just told you what you’ve been wanting to hear for years. Just that he speaks about Rafe like he’s bad.

And Rafe isn’t bad. He can be difficult and short-tempered, but he can also be warm. Passionate. Funny. Caring.

And you love him.

Damn it. You love him.

“I don’t need you worrying about who I’m dating, okay?” you say sharply. “Maybe if you were a friend, sure, but you’re barely even that anymore.”

“Why are you talking like this?”

Beck seems jarred by your contempt. You’re surprised yourself. You always thought you’d sugarcoat your words with him, that you’d care about his feelings too much to ever be brutally transparent.

But this is necessary. And you realize you couldn’t have gotten here without Rafe.

“Because I deserve honesty,” you say. You let out a shaky sigh. “I know you didn’t want to have a hard conversation, but avoiding it led to this. An even harder one. You weren’t wrong to worry that we would never work out. We wouldn’t. I just want things to be civil from now on. Like you said, Lyla’s my best friend.”

Beck shakes his head slightly. It almost looks like he had some semblance of hope that this conversation would go another direction.

“You know he’ll just hurt you, right?” he says. “I saw him fighting with his old girlfriend all the time. He’s a jerk.”

“You don’t know him,” you mutter. “And you’re in no place to call him that. Not after how you treated me. You expected I’d always be on the sidelines, waiting for you, and then got mad when I started seeing someone else. It isn’t fair.”

Beck shakes his head in frustration and walks to the door, but stops himself before he turns the doorknob.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his back still to you. “You’re right. Let’s… be civil.”

It’s a glimpse into why you once liked him so much. He has a soft heart, desperate to run from conflict. But conflict is inevitable. And you can’t be with someone who doesn’t see that.

“Okay,” you say to his back.

The door shuts behind Beck with a hard thud, closing a chapter you’re glad to see end.

════════

You eventually text Rafe: Are you going out with the team? I’m free. Just saying.

Now more than ever, you miss him. It feels silly to distance yourself, to do exactly what Beck did with you and stay away from someone just because there’s a chance that it’ll end badly.

Every part of you longs for him, for the feeling you get when you’re around him, and you can only hope he wants to see you tonight, too.

He responds that he’s on his way to pick you up.

════════

Rafe pulls up to your building, unable to stop his mind from stumbling down memory lane. He idled here for the first time so long ago, with only revenge on his mind, waiting for a ridiculously cheerful and talkative girl to sit in his passenger seat.

When you open the car door and flaunt your bright smile as you climb in, it’s like his heart found its way back to him, like you hold onto it when you aren’t together and parade it around when you are.

“Was it you?” he asks.

“Was what me?” you say.

“The card.”

You grin, glad he got a chance to go back to his room before coming to pick you up. You don’t need the recognition. You’re just glad he seems happy about it.

You notice both of his hands on the steering wheel, recalling how he could only type with one a few days ago.

“Nice,” you say, buckling your seatbelt. “Your pain meds must be working. That’s great. I have to tell you something. I finally talked to Beck. I kind of… told him off, I guess. And… you can say you told me so. You were right. He did like me. Or actually, he does. It was a lot to take in.”

Rafe grimaces, hating to hear that the guy you once said you loved told you he wants you, too. He drives out onto the road, his body tense.

“I told him that it’ll never happen,” you continue. “And he was bitter. And he’s convinced things are going to end badly with you and me. I wonder how we should tell people we’re broken up. Do we just… mention it if they ask? I haven’t told anyone. You haven’t either, right?”

You finally look over at him, gazing at his profile.

Rafe is relieved that you really are done with Beck, that you’re acting like yourself, that you’re in his car again, rambling, filling his life with a light he never had before.

He’d rather not talk about your fake breakup. And definitely not about Beck. He doesn’t have it in him to waste any time with you focusing on someone who hurt you.

“Just admit it,” he murmurs.

“Admit what?”

“The card,” he mutters playfully.

You sigh, realizing he won’t let you get away with not taking credit for it.

“Did Isaac tell you?” you ask.

“Nobody told me.”

“If you want to call me corny, just do it,” you laugh. “Never stopped you before.”

Rafe smiles sadly. Admittedly, it felt good to read the messages from the guys, seeing that they really will miss him. But he doesn’t deserve you doing that for him after the way he lost his cool on you.

“I thought you were pissed at me,” he says.

“I was, a little,” you confess.

“Sorry I snapped,” Rafe says regretfully. “If you were mad, then why’d you do it?”

His voice is soft, just like it was when he’d asked you why you came to his room the night he injured himself.

“That’s why,” you say. “You always seem so surprised that people care about you. I just wanted to give you proof that they do.”

You interlace your fingers together, glancing out the window.

“And it’s okay. I’m not mad anymore,” you say. “I think at some point, I started to take it personally when you don’t want to talk to me. Sorry. I don’t mean to force you. I’ll stop.”

Rafe taps his thumb on the steering wheel. For once, he doesn’t want you to stop.

“It’s because it’s new for me,” he mumbles, giving in.

“What?”

“Someone caring as much as you do is new for me,” he replies. “That’s why I seem surprised. It throws me off.”

Your lips part, but the words won’t form. You’re in shock that he’s opening up, especially when you didn’t ask him to, when you just told him you’ll stop pushing.

“And I’m not used to getting asked so many questions,” Rafe says. “You never stop.”

“I am kind of relentless,” you say, crinkling your nose and smiling. “You make me curious, though.”

“I can tell,” he mumbles, earning a chuckle from you. “We’re good now, yeah?”

You’re touched that he worries this much about you being upset with him. Some time in the last few months, throughout your tutoring sessions and the events you attended as a fake couple and all the moments in between, he really did start caring about you.

It’s nice, because you feel the same way about him. How deep those feelings go remains unspoken, and you’re not sure you can face them yet.

“We’re good,” you reply. “I can’t stay mad at you. You’re too charming. In like, a really grumpy, always mad at everything type of way.”

“Wow,” Rafe huffs, pretending to be offended while flashing the smile you always get hypnotized by.

“Was that rude?” you quip. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

His smile widens, certain now that if he only has you like this, as a friend, it’s so much better than not having you at all.

════════

“How’d that presentation go?” Rafe mumbles in your ear.

You’re standing on the bar’s back patio with the team and the rest of the usual social circle, surrounded by music and chatter floating through the warm late spring air.

You’re right next to him, but not touching in any way, because there’s no reason to fake affection anymore. But knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to stay away from him.

“For my group project?” you clarify. “Picture me and three guys in front of a full lecture hall. They’re taking turns reading off of Wikipedia and I’m trying to pretend that I’m not losing my mind.”

Rafe chuckles, enamored.

“I got a good individual grade, though,” you say. “Wait. Did you ever check what you got on your midterm?”

“No.”

“Please do,” you say, bringing your clasped hands to your chin.

He sucks his teeth, a little nervous as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He feels your cheek against his good shoulder as you lean in to look.

“An A,” you say proudly, leaning against him, your hand curled around his bicep. You did it without thinking, the closeness feeling more natural than anything you’ve felt before, a hard contrast to how hesitant you’d once been to touch him.

“Thought we broke up,” he murmurs, glancing down at your hand on his arm. It’s his way of testing why you’re touching him like this, aching to hear you say you’re doing it because you want to.

You look up through your lashes, eyes trained on his, silence sweeping over you. You have to feel it, too. He’s sure of it.

“Right,” you reply with a chuckle, hoping to smile your way out of the split in your chest. “Yeah. We did.”

You let go, crossing your arms as you awkwardly look away. You should have known your instincts were wrong, that Rafe is just another guy leading you on, confusing you, whether it be on purpose or not.

He can’t take what it feels like when you pull away like that. He once thought he could handle not acting on his feelings for you, but he can’t. He needs to know what’s so wrong with him, if Emma’s words poisoned you before he even had a chance with you.

“Is it because of what she said?” he says, squaring his shoulders to face you, to try to separate both of you from the rest of the group.

“Is what because of-”

“Emma told me what she said to you,” he interrupts.

You gaze up at him, wide-eyed.

“You talked to her?” you ask. Imagining it wrings your heart out, jealousy pooling through you.

He nods, his jaw tight, looking at you like you’re the one who needs to explain something here. Your forehead crinkles, your face falling with disappointment.

“I thought you didn’t care what she thinks,” you say.

“I don’t.”

You look down, as if you can find the answer somewhere on the ground. Your heart is racing, your mind spinning.

“Are you okay?” you hear.

Rafe looks over his shoulder to see that Beck has walked over, staring at you.

“I’m fine,” you answer.

“I told you this would happen,” Beck says to you.

Rafe meets your eyes again to see that they’re glossed over with tears.

“Fuck off,” he mutters to Beck.

“I’m just looking out for her,” Beck says.

“I look out for her,” Rafe says angrily. His raised voice earns a few side-eyes, the conversations around you silencing.

“Do you?” Beck asks.

Rafe breathes a humorless chuckle, rage coursing through him as he turns around, his back to you, his fists clenched.

“Don’t,” you say. “You’ll get hurt.”

There’s a hole in Rafe’s chest when he hears the concern in your voice for Beck. But when he turns around, you’re gazing up at him instead.

“You’re already in enough pain,” you say to him, your eyes drifting over his aching shoulder. He stares at you in awe, again, like he’s in shock that you worry about him. “Let’s talk out front.”

You don’t wait for him to agree. You storm back into the bar, darting through the throngs of people, pushing the heavy entrance door.

Your shoes pad over the concrete, your breaths unstable as you pass by the small crowds outside the bar.

You round the corner, finding a quiet pocket of privacy in the dark parking lot, next to the wall. You turn to see Rafe right behind you, facing you, his chest heaving.

“What’d she tell you that she said to me, exactly?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Rafe is in disbelief that he led himself back to doing this, talking about his past relationship with you again, letting it bleed into whatever it is that he has with you.

“That I’m a pathetic asshole,” he begrudgingly answers, his features shadowed in the darkness. “That I – I cried.”

“Her words don’t mean anything,” you tell him.

“She’s right, though, isn’t she?” he asks. “You agree. Just be honest with me. Tell me all of it. No more bullshit.”

Tears continue to sting your eyes, afraid you’re going to hurt him, but too worn down to fight.

“She said you were moody and mean,” you relent, “and yes, that you called her crying when you wanted to get back together. And you know what? The only person I thought was an asshole was her. She’s the pathetic one, okay?”

Rafe searches your face, his features hard, in pain.

“She was horrible to you,” you say. “You deserve someone better.”

What’s left of his composure burns away. He drops his head, his breaths barely escaping his mouth. He’d do anything to be what you want. Who you need.

“Why can’t it be you?” he asks through a ragged exhale.

You still, your heart pounding in your ears. A tear escapes past your bottom lashes, a result of one of the most overwhelming days of your life.

“What?” you whisper. You brush the wetness off of your skin, silently begging him to look at you again.

“What is it about me that’s so wrong?” he rasps, his voice starting to strain, putting sound to the question that he’s asked himself his whole life.

Rafe finds it in him to meet your gaze, all too acquainted with the sinking feeling of begging someone to love him.

Your eyes sweep over his face, your lips parted in silent shock.

He’s tipping over the edge, in slow, splitting agony, waiting to hear the words he knows you’ll say so he can finally let the hope that’s still somehow living in him die.

“What are you...” you say quietly, needing to hear it, to be sure. “What are you saying? You want me?”

Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose, sending a frustrated, pained exhale towards the starry sky, your name laced in a groan.

“Yes,” he says clearly, staring at you again, frustrated and afraid. “So bad that it fucking hurts.”

You’re able to feel every inch of your body, yet you’re numb all over. It’s an overwhelming, euphoric rush, looking up at the man you’ve given your heart to and knowing for sure that he’s given you his.

You blink as you step a little closer, taking in every inch of him, his messy hair, his handsome face, unable to believe that there was a time you didn’t see the warmth behind his eyes.

You can’t find the words, and for once, you stop trying to. Instead, you follow your impulse and take one more step, your body brushing against his, tipping your chin up.

Rafe swallows hard, his veins tight and hot as your gaze flutters down to his lips.

“You said you wanted it to be real,” he says, a note of disbelief in his voice.

A smile tugs on your lips. In a moment like this, he’s considering what you’d told him about how you wanted your first kiss to be real, showing you how much he listens to the things you say, how much he cares about your comfort.

“It will be,” you say softly.

After wanting you so badly for so long, Rafe can’t be still for another second. He brings his hands up to cradle your face, ignoring the pinch of pain in his shoulder. His heart thumps as he leans closer and gently leads you towards him.

His lips press against yours and every piece of you melts away. You were wrong when you thought his kiss would either be rough or gentle. It’s both, the pressure perfect, the urgency just as present as the tenderness.

He kisses you deeper, his lips hot and soft. When he smiles beneath the kiss, you smile, too, hooking your arms around him, hands splayed over his firm back, because you can’t possibly have him any closer.

He gently guides you backwards, pressing you against the cool brick wall, your face still in his hands, holding you as if you could slip away.

Rafe is warm against you, shifting to kiss the corner of your lips, your cheek, your jaw, the side of your neck. His breath is warm on your skin as you try to catch yours, squeezing him.

He’s never been so sure that he’s where he’s supposed to be. It’s like you’re grounding him with how tight you’re holding him, ensuring him that he’s wanted.

He shifts to kiss your lips again, panting. He pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, never having felt so lucky before.

But he’s unsure of how to even navigate this when you’ve told him you don’t want a relationship.

“‘I’ll wait,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Until you’re ready.”

“Ready?” you ask.

“To date,” he says.

You smile up at him, your lips still warm from his. You know you both have work to do on yourselves, but you’re confident you can do it together.

“We already dated, didn’t we?” you tease. “I’m ready. If it’s you.”

He sighs a breath of relief, kissing you once more.

════════

You haven’t done much since you made it to Rafe’s dorm room.

You’ve been lying in bed together with your heads on his pillow, his desk lamp blanketing the room in a soft light, facing each other and talking.

“We didn’t tell anyone we were leaving,” you realize, even though you left the bar about half an hour ago.

The way your eyes widen in worry is so adorable to him that he can’t help but kiss you, and he loves that he doesn’t have to hold himself back from doing it anymore.

“Should we go back? Say sorry to everyone?” he murmurs, a smirk on his face.

“Don’t mock me,” you laugh.

“But it’s so easy.”

You scowl at him, although you’re hardly able to stifle your smile.

“Don’t be mad,” he chuckles, planting a kiss on your lips again. Your cheeks burn, still reeling from how intoxicating it is getting touched and kissed by him now that you know it’s real.

“Right, that’s your job,” you joke, nuzzling in, your forehead against his chest.

A pinch of shame digs into him, his hand running up and down the curve of your spine.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all the happiness from his voice gone.

You shift back to look at him again.

“I was kidding,” you say, your voice thick with worry.

“Nah, it’s true,” Rafe says.

You bite your lip, studying him.

“Is there a reason?” you ask.

“I just… I’ve always been like this,” he admits. “Sometimes, I can’t feel anything but pissed off.”

“It’s an easy emotion to feel.” You gently trace shapes over his chest, your finger skimming over soft cotton. “They say anger is hurt’s bodyguard.”

“You read that somewhere, huh?”

“You know me so well.”

Rafe’s smile is sad. He had no reason to hold back, not anymore.

“Nobody’s ever tried to understand me like you do,” he admits, “and it was shitty of me to get mad at you for trying.”

“Being mad is comfortable for you,” you empathize. “I get it.”

He takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

“I grew up around a lot of fighting,” he tells you. “It was a relief when my parents split up.”

Rafe’s stomach twists with discomfort, the memories rushing back, the pain of being at that damn birthday party and seeing such a happy family still cutting into him. Seeing a proud father. Seeing a mother who stays.

And he can’t believe he’s saying it out loud, and that he wants to, and that you didn’t even have to ask.

“But then my mom… stopped trying to be a mom,” he continues. “And I was left with my dad and my sisters and it was like to him, they could do no wrong and I was nothing but a fuck-up.”

You look into his eyes, unable to believe that he holds such a deep, painful wound. Earlier tonight, he asked you what was wrong with him. You can see now that he must have been asking himself that since he was a child.

“I was always trying to make him happy and it never stuck,” he tells you. “Then I started playing hockey and… I could let out how mad I was. And people liked me for it. I finally had a place to go and – and I hate not having it anymore.”

The puzzle pieces click together. Your instincts were right when you’d assumed he was much more sensitive than he let on, hiding behind anger when all he’s ever wanted was love.

Knowing he was in a relationship where he was pressured to hide those types of things makes the pang in your heart even sharper.

“It’s temporary,” you remind him. “You’ll get back out there. But there’s so much more to you than what a good player you are.”

“You think I’m good?” he says. “You didn’t write anything in the card.”

You breathe a chuckle, gently gripping his wrist, the ink you’d etched washed away now.

“I prefer to write on you,” you tease, then gaze up at him again with sincere adoration. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. Thank you for telling me. There’s nothing wrong with you, okay?”

He stares at you in concern, as if he’s afraid you’ll take it back.

But you don’t. You just brush a kiss against his hand, squeezing his fingers with yours.

And this is so much better than the doses of temporary happiness he used to find to fill the gaps. After feeling empty for so long, this is real, complete wholeness.

════════

“Last book on the syllabus,” you say happily, already seated like usual. “We made it.”

Rafe smirks at you as he shuts the door behind him. It’s been almost a week since the night at the bar, and he’s only falling deeper for you, missing you even more when you’re not around.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually tutoring me today,” he answers.

“What’d you expect?”

He drops his backpack on his seat and stands behind you, leaning over to wrap his arms around you.

“Somethin’ more like this,” he murmurs, his lips against the side of your neck.

You smile, squeezing his forearms as you breathe in the crisp aroma of his cologne, remembering when you’d noticed how good it smelled at the first party you went to together.

“You think you can get away with this?” you say, although you feel weak all over. “Did you read the book?”

He kisses the side of your neck, sending a warm tingle through you.

“Rafe,” you sigh. “We have work to do.”

“Oh, shit,” he chuckles. “Your serious voice. I’m scared.”

“You should be,” you laugh. “How was physio?”

“Fine,” he replies, giving you one last kiss before he heads to his seat. Then, he remembers he doesn’t have to lie to you, that you’re the one person in his life that would never give him shit for telling the truth. “Brutal, actually. How are you?”

“Not ready for finals,” you reply.

“You’re already thinking about finals,” he scoffs as he unpacks his things.

“Of course I am.”

You can’t believe that the exam season is just three weeks away and that in two days, the hockey season will be finished and that before you know it, your freshman year will be over.

Rafe pulls out a paper bag from his backpack and places it in front of you, the logo stamped on it familiar.

“Did you..?” you say with a smile. He must have driven to the cafe you’d once met him at right after class, the one you said had the best treats. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Just take it,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you sing-song, putting the bag in your lap, sneakily opening it. “Food’s not allowed in here, but this is worth it.”

“Nobody’s going to care,” he teases. “And the door’s closed.”

“Did you miss the windows?” you reply with a laugh. You take a bite and then reach for your copy of East of Eden that you’d lent him and fan through the pages.

“There’s some beautiful prose in this one, isn’t there?” you say.

“Sure,” he says, staring at you with an enamored glint in his eyes.

“You’re just saying that,” you chuckle.

“When do I just say things?” Rafe challenges.

You shrug in agreement.

“So, the discussion question is about the changes of perspectives between both families and how it…”

You trail off as you notice a circle around a paragraph in blue pen, standing out from the yellow highlight and pencil you’d previously etched throughout the book.

“Did you mark something in my book?” you joke. “Who gave you permission?”

“Permission?” he asks amusedly. “God, why do love rules so much?”

He watches as your eyes skim over the page. He only marked one thing in the book and he’s aware of exactly what you’re reading.

You tilt your head, your smile fading, your heart weightless as you read.

A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And I was not afraid any more.

“Why did you circle this?” you ask.

“Why do you think?”

Another smile ghosts over your lips as you look down at the passage again, brows furrowing.

“What?” Rafe says, afraid you’re actually annoyed he marked your book.

“I guess I…” You clear your throat. “I used to read stuff like this and imagined someone thinking it about me, but never thought it would actually…”

You meet his eyes, your voice faded into silence as you exhale. He’s never seen you like this before. Uncertain. Afraid to speak.

You spent so long wanting to be loved just like he has, and while he spiralled into anger, you fell into insecurity, convincing yourself that someone would never care about you the way he does, questioning every sign.

Rafe sits up, reaching forward. You put the book down and take his hand. He gazes at you, feeling so damn fortunate that he walked into this room all those weeks ago, and even more fortunate that you see something in him.

He’ll have to prove to you that he sees something in you, too. He knows there’s work for him to do here. It’s work he wants to do.

“It’s true,” he says, glancing down at the book. “You changed everything for me, you know that?”

You breathe a soft, appreciative laugh, offering a small nod.

“Like your grades?” you joke.

He bites his bottom lip, smirking as he leans closer. You meet him halfway, sharing a soft, slow kiss, your eyelashes overlapping.

“Everything,” he repeats, inches away from your lips. “Thank you.”

You’re dazed, lost, and finally, a little less afraid.

════════

“Get as many as you want,” Rafe says, putting his car in park.

You stare ahead at the shop he just pulled up to, your mouth agape.

This morning, you’d asked him if he had to sit on the bench for the final game of the season this afternoon, or if he could sit in the stands with you. He’d told you he’d rather not watch it at all and that he had something else in mind, refusing to elaborate.

Your eyes travel over the sign hanging above the small bookstore, boasting its collection of old and rare books.

He pulls out his key, then chuckles when he sees that you’re frozen, staring ahead in awe.

“Really?” you say.

“No, I just wanted to show you the front of the store,” he mumbles. “Yeah, really.”

You laugh, excitedly getting out of the car. It’s a surprise, seeing just how much he likes to give you things to show he cares. He might not be great with words all the time, but his actions show you what you need to know.

Rafe follows you as you browse the shelves, picking up books, taking some with you and leaving others behind. He doesn’t understand how this could make you so happy that your smile hasn’t left your face, but he’d do it for hours for you.

He starts to take the books out of your hands, holding them for you as you search, but you don’t let him carry them for long, worried about his injury acting up.

He’s glad this is how he’s spending the afternoon. His coach and his friends on the team were cool with it when he told them he wasn’t going to attend the last game of the season.

It’s too hard to watch from the bench, wishing he could be on the other side of the glass. He’d rather be where he feels best: with you.

At one point, you’re reaching for a book on the top shelf, on the tips of your toes, and the sight warms his heart so much that he takes out his phone and snaps a photo.

“A little help?” you giggle, your voice strained. You look over your shoulder to see him smirking with his phone directed at you.

Rafe pockets his phone and steps forward to face you, his chest brushing against yours as he grips the book you’re trying to reach.

Your gazes stay locked as he hands you the book, looking down at you with a pure smile.

“Can we do this all the time?” you ask.

“You like it?” he says. “Bet there’s lots of places like this between us.”

A look of apprehension flashes across your face. You’re weeks away from the end of the school year, when you’ll both be moving back to your hometowns for the summer, three hours apart from each other.

“Do you mean it?” you ask.

You’re uncertain, needing to hear that he wants to keep this going over the summer, and after, that he’ll keep making an effort to see you.

“Three hours is nothing,” Rafe says.

You beam. You don’t need any more words, entirely comforted.

════════

“You made the right call not coming today,” Isaac says as you and Rafe enter the common room an hour later, the team dispersed across the small space. “That was embarrassing.”

“Shit,” Rafe replies, their hands clapped in greeting. “Was it that bad, man?”

“Never got my ass handed to me like that before,” Isaac says, a few of the other hockey players nodding in agreement. “Meanwhile, you’re on some cute little date.”

You share a smile. It’s clear he’s seen the photo of you that Rafe posted.

“It was cute,” you laugh. “Sorry about the loss.”

“Crappy way to end our season,” Isaac tells you. “But there’s always next year. Rafe’ll be back throwing punches.”

Rafe catches your frown.

“Thanks for the help with my essay, by the way,” Isaac tells you. “Got an A.”

“Great,” you say sweetly. “No problem.”

“You think Lyla’s coming?” Isaac asks. You nod, having texted with your best friend on your way here.

“She is,” you say.

Isaac grins when he looks up at the door. You turn to see Lyla come in. He steps away, eager to greet her.

You smile to yourself. After everything you’ve heard from Lyla, you’re pretty sure they’re only a few days away from becoming official.

“What was that look?” Rafe asks quietly.

“What?”

“When he said something about throwing punches, you looked mad.”

You adore it about him, how much he picks up on, but at the same time, it hurts to remember that the reason he knows how to do it is a result of his lonely childhood.

“I’m protective of you,” you say. “I know you’re healing well, but I don’t like the thought of you getting hurt. Is that so crazy?”

Rafe smirks, stepping forward, putting his hands on your hips, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes and a wide grin.

“What?” you whine with a soft laugh.

“It’s cute that you’re worrying about me, baby,” he answers, revelling in the feeling of touching you in public because he wants to, not because he’s supposed to be making someone jealous.

“You think I’m cute?”

His grip tightens, holding you like he always does, like you’re too good to be real, like someone might take you away.

“All the time,” Rafe murmurs, earning a gentle nudge from you. “Gonna miss you when you get too busy for me during finals.”

“You know I’m going to want to read all those books you got me, right?” you say. “I need you to keep me in line and study with me. Make sure I’m not getting distracted.”

“I thought you said I distract you.”

You chuckle, still in awe of how affectionate he is, of how much he loves to touch and kiss you whenever you’re close. He absolutely does distract you, and you love it.

“I mean, yeah, but everyone needs study breaks,” you say with a shrug. “And I don’t like it when you’re not around.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Me, neither.”

Rafe takes a second to just stare at you. It’s impossible to get enough of you. He never really looked forward to life in general, but since you made him yours, he looks forward to everything.

You press your cheek against his chest in a hug, listening to his heartbeat. And you love the feeling of knowing, with absolute certainty, that part of it beats for you.

(the end)

epilogue >

au masterlist

author’s note this was such a fun series to write!! thank you to everyone who supported the story. the epilogue is pure fluff and smut, so for the readers who don’t like spice, def skip it!! ily all!!

[shelbgrey]

Could you maybe do a Johnny Lawrence x LaRusso!Reader smut where the reader is Daniel’s little sister they have been sneaking around for awhile together and Daniel doesn’t know and they finally get caught

Fuck Romeo and Juliet(Johnny Lawrence)

Paring: Johnny Lawrence x LaRusso!Reader

Summary: Johnny and y/n have been dating for months behind Daniel's back. Both have been careful and at first it was kinda fun sneaking around, but the forbidden shit was getting old to Johnny.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, messing around in a hot tub, unprotected sex, slight dirty talk, rough sex, reader on her hands and knees, forbidden-ish relationship, slight chocking, not edited.

MasterList ML2

The all valley tournament was approaching and that meant full training time at Miyagi-do. Watching Johnny would never get old to y/n. She always thought he looked hot as hell, even if he traded his black gi for a white one. Then again it's a bigger shame that the both of them had to keep their relationship a secret from Daniel, y/n's big brother. Y/n watched Johnny as he helped Miguel and Hawk with the different techniques.

She looked over and saw Daniel distracted by teaching a different group of students. Y/n wasn't much help to Daniel or Johnny at the moment and y/n couldn't help but glance back over at Johnny. His teaching was the polar opposite of Daniel's and he looked way too attractive doing it. When Johnny was finished teaching, y/n got his attention, trying not to sound suspicious. “Hey, Johnny” she called out, stepping towards the porch of the small house that was part of Miyagi-do.

He smirked to himself as she yelled over to him, he loved her voice. “Hey, Y/n,” Johnny was also very turned on while watching the way her body moved, seeing the way her leggings hugged her curves so nicely. Then to hear her call his name. Oh yes, Johnny loved all of this. He looked over, returning her gaze. “What's up?”

“I wanna run something by you for a sec,” she said, coming up with an excuse in case Daniel was listening in. “Lessons for next week”

Johnny got up and wandered over to y/n. God he wanted to kiss her so badly, he hadn't been able to touch her in days. Johnny nodded as he looked out across the yard towards all the students to make sure Daniel wasn't paying attention. He turned back to y/n, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? What's on your mind?”

Y/n pulled the sliding door open and motioned for him to follow her inside. Johnny smirked more as his mind raced. He quickly followed her inside, his eyes checking her out in those tight leggings as he closed the door behind them. As soon as the door was shut, he pulled her close, putting his hands on her hips, and he pinned you up against the wall, kissing her intensely, hungrily as she ran her fingers through his messy hair. Months of keeping this relationship secret had taken its toll.

Johnny groaned into y/n’s mouth as he continued to kiss her hungrily. He ran his hands up under her shirt, his large hands against her soft skin as his mouth started to kiss and suck at her neck, leaving a few marks. He grabbed at her thigh, hitching one of them over his hip, pulling her even closer to him.

Y/n fisted the white gi he was wearing, holding his body against hers. She pulled away from the kiss, to catch her breath. Her breathless voice sent a shiver through him. He kissed along her jaw, back up to her ear, before nipping at the lobe. “God, you're so sexy” He murmured against her skin as he slowly grinded his hips into hers, making her breath hitch. Her hips bucked, creating that friction that felt so damned good. His hand continued to rub along your thigh, still holding It against his hip. He pressed his forehead against hers. “I swear it's getting harder to keep our hands off each other” He muttered, his heart racing. He knew he should stop but goddamn he didn't want to.

“I know,” Y/n said softly, tilting her head and nuzzling her nose against his. “We can't get carried away here”

Johnny groaned softly, her words even though they were true, but man was he wanting to get carried away. He pulled back slightly, keeping himself pressed against her. “Well you can't blame me. I mean, look at you” He smirked softly, still a bit breathless as he ran his gaze over her, taking in the way her hips were pressed against him and the way her chest rose and fell.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully then leaned in, pressing her lips against his softly and quickly. “we should probably should get back out there before Daniel notices”

“Right” Johnny muttered, though all he wanted to do was to keep his hands on her skin and his mouth on her lips. To hell with if Daniel noticed. Johnny sighed and pecked her lips once more before taking a step back, letting his body move away from hers. He ran a shaky hand through his tousled hair, trying to calm himself down.

Y/n placed her hands on his chest. “But I'll be all yours tonight, I'll have the house to myself”

A soft shiver ran through him, those words just made him shiver more. Johnny had to will himself to cool the hell down. He'd have to wait until later to have her all to himself. But now that it was on the table, he didn't want to wait. “Can't wait,” He muttered as he leaned forward and kissed her softly one last time before stepping back completely away from her, trying to slow his breathing and heart rate. He was trying so hard to cool his lust for you. He needed you. In so many ways. “I should get back out there”

“I know,” she sighed, kissing him on the cheek. “I'll text when Daniel and Amanda leave tonight”

Johnny nodded and he turned, heading back outside to finish out classes.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Later that night he drove faster than was legally allowed and had no shame in it. He was getting there soon, and that's all that mattered. When he finally pulled up to the curb, he had to take a few seconds to compose himself. He hadn't stopped thinking about today and he was so turned on, needing you so much that he was shaking as he got out of his car. His legs were moving quickly, almost jogging up to her front door and didn't waste time knocking.

In seconds the door opened. “hey, Honey”

Johnny almost shivered at the sound of that word. Honey. How his heart fluttered at that sweet nickname. It was as if no one had ever called him that before, and it meant something to him. He quickly stepped through the door, closing it behind him. “Hey, gorgeous”

Y/n cupped both sides of his jaw, pressing her lips against his softly. He immediately melted under her touch, his hands moving to her waist and pulling her close against him. He could feel the need rising in him, but he held it at bay for a moment so he could savor this one kiss.

“Hey,” y/n pulled away, their noses brushing against each other. “How about we use the hot tub?” Her brother's place was huge, him and Amanda deserved it after all they worked for. Y/n’s lived here since she started medical school years ago and she just never left and Daniel doesn't want to kick her out. The only downfall is Johnny and her have to sneak around like a couple of teenagers.

“A hot tub, with you?” Johnny's mind filled with the image of her in a bikini or maybe nothing at all. The way the water would run down her body. He was getting worked up just thinking about it. “Hell yeah, I'm in”

Y/n smirked and grabbed his hand, Johnny followed her like a lost puppy, letting her lead him. His gaze was on her as she walked, enjoying the way her body moved, the way her hips swayed. God, he loved it. They reached the hot tub, the water bubbling softly in the dark night. He could almost feel the steam rolling off it and the way the warm air hit his skin. His eyes locked on hers as he began to pull his shirt over his head.

Y/n mirrored his actions, taking her shirt off and dropped it on the patio that framed the hot tub. She leaned against the edge of the tub and pulled down her shorts and panties in front of, not really giving it a second thought. Johnny's breath caught in his chest. He had seen Y/n naked before, plenty of times actually, and every damn time it wrecked him. He was still for just a moment before he unbuttoned his jeans and quickly pulled them off, tossing them with the rest of her clothes. His gaze never left her as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch her.

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him softly, her back against the outside ledge of the hot tub. She broke the kiss, catching her breath as she slowly sank into the steaming water. Johnny watched transfixed, the steam curling around her body like tendrils of mist. He couldn't tear his eyes away, drinking in the sight of your silhouette beneath the bubbling surface. A low groan escaped his lips as he followed her in, the heat enveloping him.

He moved closer to y/n in the water, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her onto his lap. The hot water lapped at their skin, and he could feel every inch of her against him. His hands slid down to her thighs, spreading them apart as she straddled him.

Y/n let out a soft hum, brushing her fingers up his chest, leaving drops of warm water behind. Her hands found their destination and cradled both sides of his jaw, her eyes drowning in his blue ones. Johnny's heart raced in his chest. The way she touched him, the way she looked at him. It made his heart feel like it was going to burst. He leaned into her touch, his own hands squeezing her thighs possessively. His gaze flicked down to her lips, then back up to her eyes. He could see the desire burning in them, matching his own. Without a word, he leaned up and captured her mouth with his, his kiss hungry and demanding.

Y/n moaned softly, pressing her body against his. He growled softly, his hands gripping her behind and lifting her slightly. He could feel y/n’s breasts pressing against his chest, her stomach against his hardness. He captured her mouth again, his tongue plunging deep. His hands slid up her back, pressing her even closer against him, her hands gripped his hair as she let out a small moan against his. The hot water made everything feel more intense - every touch, every sensation. He broke the kiss to trail wet kisses down her collarbone, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin beneath the water. “Fuck, baby”

“J-Johnny”

He nuzzled his face between her breasts, his hands roaming her back and sides possessively. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, matching the rapid beat of his own. He looked up at her through his wet lashes, his blue eyes dark with desire.

“T-touch me” she whispered softly.

His hands moved to her legs, he slid one hand up her inner thigh, parting her folds and finding her clit. He began to circle it with his thumb, pulling a moan from her as her back arched. Johnny's other hand reached up, supporting her weight in the water. “Like this, baby?”

She nodded quickly. He could feel her tensing, wrapping his arms around him more tightly as he continued to touch her intimately in the water. He could feel the water lapping at his neck and around her breasts, making his touch seem more intense. He curled his fingers inside her, searching for that spot that would make her whimper.

He found her spot, curling his fingers just right as he continued to rub her clit with his thumb. He could feel her getting wetter, the water and her arousal mixing together. He captured her mouth in a deep kiss, swallowing her moans as he fingered her in the hot tub.

Johnny could feel her nails digging into his shoulders, trying to stabilize herself. Y/n's breath hitching as he hit that sweet spot again and again. He could feel her getting close, her thighs tightening around his hips. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers. “Come for me, baby”

Y/n let out a whimper as his thumb pressed down hard on her clit as his fingers curved inside her. She gasped, squeezing his shoulders. could feel her inner walls fluttering, her body tensing. He knew she was close. He picked up his pace, plunging his fingers in and out of her roughly, like he wanted to do with his cock.

“Johnny!” y/n gasped, her head falling on to his shoulder. She shuddered, the knot in her stomach snapping as she came on his fingers.

Johnny groaned as her tight pussy clamped around his fingers rhythmically. He continued stroking her through it, extending her pleasure as long as possible. Once her tremors subsided, he slowly withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste her arousal.

He watched y/n bite her lower lip, her cheeks flushed from her release. He saw her body - wet, naked, those gorgeous breasts just above the water level. His cock hardened even more. Y/n spread her legs slightly underwater, making his imagination run wild. “Baby” He called again, his voice hoarse.

“Y-yeah?”

Johnny's breathing became heavy as his hands gripped her hips possessively. The water lapped against her skin, and he could see her nipples pebbled beneath the water's surface. “I need you,” He trailed off, his eyes meeting hers. “Baby, you feel how hard I am?”

“Let's go to bed then” y/n whispered, nipping his bottom lip.

He groaned low in his throat at her words and didn't hesitate, immediately standing up and getting out of the hot tub. He held out his hand for her, pulling her out once she took it. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her shoulders before picking her up bridal style. He carried y/n into her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He laid her down on the bed gently, his gaze intense as he took in her flushed face and wet hair. He kneeled on the bed, opening her legs to settle between them.

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of her. Their movements dripped water onto the sheets. He captured her lips in a deep, passionate kiss as he settled his weight on top of her. His hands roamed over her wet body, squeezing her breasts and gripping her thighs. He broke the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down her neck.“ Fuck, you're so sexy”

His mouth moved down y/n's body, capturing her nipple softly. Her breath hitched as her hips arched beneath him, her fingers tangling in his hair. He switched to the other nipple, sucking it softly. His mouth moved down her stomach, making her shiver. He bit her inner thigh softly, making her squirm.

“J-Johnny” y/n shivered, tugging at his hair, guiding him back up her body.

Johnny kissed his way back up her body at her insistence, smirking against her skin. Once he reached her mouth again, he caught her bottom lip between his teeth, nipping it gently. “So impatient” He whispered against her lips. His hands roamed her body, settling at her hips. He saw her breasts rise and fall with her deep, unsteady breaths. God, you were so beautiful. His eyes darkened as she spread her legs wider, unconsciously inviting. His voice dropped lower, “Baby?” He asked softly.

“I need you inside me”

Johnny's control snapped at her words. He wrapped y/n’s legs around his waist, his eyes locked with hers as he entered her slowly. Her head fell back in pleasure, her nails biting into his back. She was so wet, so ready for him. He buried his face in her neck, groaning loudly.

He started moving slowly at first, letting her adjust to his size. But as her nails dug into his back and her hips lifted to meet his thrusts, he picked up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with his deep groans and her soft moans. Y/n cried out his name and his thrusts became more and more forceful, hitting that spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. He could feel her tightening around him, her body preparing for release. He wrapped a hand around her throat, his thumb pressing lightly against her pulse point.

God, she loved it when he did that. “F-fuck, J-Johnny”

He growled in response, her words spurring him on. He tightened his grip on her throat gently, not restricting her breath but asserting his dominance. His other hand gripped her hip tightly, pulling her into each thrust with more force. “Is that what you need? You want me to fuck you harder?”

Y/n nodded quickly, broken puffs of air and moans falling from her lips, making him smirked devilishly. Damn he was pleased that he could drive her so wild. Obliging her plea, he slammed into her relentlessly, each vigorous thrust aiming to hit her most sensitive spots. The bed creaked loudly beneath them, a rhythmic symphony to her escalating moans.

Johnny suddenly slowed down again, his eyes locking onto hers. There was a mischievous glint in them. He knew that by now, she was so close to the edge. And he was going to deny her that release. “Not yet” He whispered hoarsely, pulling out completely.

“Dammit, Johnny” y/n whined in frustration at the Emptiness she felt. Her nails nipped into his shoulders as she arched her hips desperately.

Johnny chuckled lowly at her frustrated whine, finding sadistic pleasure in teasing her. He grabbed her wrists firmly, pinning them above her head as he hovered over her. His smirk softened into a playful grin while his eyes mocked her desperation. “Nah ah, not so fast”

Y/n groaned in frustration, making Johnny waggle his eyebrows mischievously. His free hand roamed over her body teasingly - avoiding the one place she needed him to touch the most. He could feel her writhing beneath him, trying to pull her wrists free to pull him closer. Then an idea hit and he finally released her wrists, but only so he could flip her onto her stomach. Before she could even react, he lifted her hips up, leaving her on her knees and elbows. He ran a finger slowly up her spine, making her shiver. “Stay like that”

Y/n moaned softly against the pillow, the sounds muffled. Johnny chuckled, positioning himself behind her, admiring her exposed curves. Then, without warning, he entered her again, making her cry out in pleasure from the new angle. He gripped her hips tightly, slamming back into her with powerful thrusts. He grabbed her hips, pulling her back every time he snapped his hips forward. Y/n could hear the wet sounds of his length sliding in and out of her, mixed with his own heavy breathing and loud groans. “Fuck, you feel so good like this” He panted.

“J-Johnny, I'm close!”

He could feel her trembling beneath him, getting closer and closer to the edge. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer as he continued to pound into her mercilessly. He knew she was close. Johnny reached around with his free hand, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. He began to circle his fingertips around it, pressing firmly as he continued to thrust into her. Y/n let out a strangled cry, her hands fisting the sheets.

When Y/n finally reached the edge, all her nerves relaxed as her vision became stary as her orgasm washed over her. Y/n’s things trembled from the weight on her knees, Johnny watched her shoulders slump from the immense pleasure as her moans muffled into the pillow. Johnny's eyes rolled back as he watched her come undone around him. Feeling her walls clamp down tightly around his length was too much. He let out a deep, guttural groan as he buried himself deep inside her, his own release hitting him like a freight train. “Fuck yes!”

Johnny stayed buried deep inside her, his body shuddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He leaned down, pressing gentle kisses to her sweat-dampened back as he slowly slid out of her. Y/n let out a soft gasp at the loss of him, her body still sensitive and trembling. “Easy, Baby” he whispered.

“Shit” she shuddered, rolling onto her back.

Johnny collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He turned his head to look at her, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he took in her disheveled appearance. “Damn right”

Johnny reached out, gently running his fingers through her hair, helping to calm her down from the intense encounter. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with a mix of satisfaction and affection. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice still rough from exertion.

“I'm perfect” y/n said softly, catching her breath as she lazily traced her fingers down his jawline.

Johnny leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly as he enjoyed the gentle caress. A small smile played on his lips. “Mmm, good” He captured her hand, bringing it to his mouth to press a soft kiss to her palm.

Johnny's eyes trailed down, he watched her chest rise and fall with her steady breathing. He realized that her body was covered in hickeys and bite marks - evidence of his rough handling. He suddenly felt the urge to check if she was sore. Johnny gently propped himself up on one elbow, his fingers lightly tracing the hickeys and bite marks on her skin. “Was I too rough with you?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “Are you sore anywhere?”

“No, I feel great” y/n smiled lazily.

Johnny let out a relieved breath, his fingers continuing their gentle exploration of her body. He seemed satisfied with her answer, but his touch remained surprisingly tender. “Good. I just don't want to hurt you” He leaned down to press a soft kiss to one of the hickeys on her collarbone, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist as they both drifted off to sleep. In his sleep, he subconsciously pulled her closer, as if afraid she might disappear.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

The next morning Johnny woke up earlier than he had in a while. He felt refreshed, but he wasn't ready to move just yet. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, nuzzling his face into her neck, hiding his face from the sun seeping through the blinds. His nose gently trailed down her neck, inhaling her scent. His eyes fluttered close, dozing back off.

Y/n woke up a few moments later, she could hear Johnny's soft snores, but she didn't move. Her eyes fluttered back closed only for them to snap back open at the sound of a voice down stairs. She would be relieved that it was Amanda if she wasn't silently freaking out that someone was back two days early.

“Johnny!” she sat up in bed and pushed his shoulder, waking him up.

He grunted and groaned when he got woken up, sitting up in bed and rubbing some sleep out of his eyes. “W-what?”

“I think I hear Amanda down stairs,” Then she heard the sound of heels climbing up the stairs, getting louder as she got closer to her room. “hide in the closet for now” y/n said, Ignoring how ridiculous it was. They were grown adults and finally entered the childish stage of doing everything to not get caught.

Johnny was already on the move. “what a shitty time for them to get back” he said with a grumble, grabbing his jeans and scrambling into the closet and closing the door just as the bedroom door opened.

Y/n quickly grabbed a shirt off the floor, being too quick to realize it wasn't hers and it was also inside out. Then Amanda opened the door. “What are you doing back?” y/n asked, trying to sound casual.

“What am I doing back? In my own house?” She raised an eyebrow and had a slight smile on her face, it made y/n shrug. “Me and Daniel got a call from the school” She explained. “Anthony is bullying someone at school apparently”

Johnny listened through the closet door, rolling his eyes. While the girls were talking he took his opportunity to pull his jeans on. He was in the dark so he missed the hole of the pants leg and stumbled in the closet, his body thumping against the door.

Amanda jumped slightly at the sudden crash and y/n cringed. Amanda looked down and saw the beaten up converse on the floor next to y/n’s bed, they weren't her, Amanda knew that. She also recognized them all too well. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. She had that look that said 'I knew it' or 'I told you so'.

Amanda looked towards the closet, crossing her arms. “You're in the closet, aren't you Johnny” she asked casually.

He could hear the slight hint of amusement in her tone. He huffed as he leaned his head against the wall in defeat. “yep”

“Are you decent?” Amanda asked in the same tone.

Johnny paused before saying anything. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Just a pair of boxers and the jeans he's pulled on and left unzipped. “decent enough”

“Get out here, Johnny”

He grunted in defeat, stepping out of the closet with an annoyed expression. “Happy now?”

Amanda looked at Johnny then back at y/n. She covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. She sighed, crossing her arms. “I'm amused”

Johnny grumbled in annoyance, zipping his pants finally and glaring at Amanda. “It's not funny, this is stupid. We're adults for Christ sake. Adults don't hide in other adults' closets”

“Adults also don't start spray paint dicks on billboards, but here we are”

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You're enjoying this too much, aren't you?”

“Maybe, kinda,” Amanda shrugged. “But as much fun as this is, you should get out of here before Daniel gets back”

Johnny rolled his eyes but nodded, grabbing his flannel off the floor and pulling it over his shoulders. “yeah, I don't want to die today”

Amanda looked at the couple. “and I'm sure the three of us never want to speak of this again,” She looked at Johnny. “I won't tell Daniel, you both will on your own terms, but I'm telling you know, if you hurt her it's not Daniel you're gonna have to worry about”

He nodded, taking a mental note to never piss off Amanda. He looked at y/n, feeling suddenly awkward now that the situation had cleared up. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the floor. “I'll, uh, see you later I guess”

“Love you” y/n smiled softly.

He smirked, he couldn't help but feel a little bit of pride that you had no problem saying that in front of Amanda. “Love you too,” he said softly, quickly stepping across the room and giving her a brief kiss. Then he looked at Amanda. “I'll let myself out” He said, leaving the room and heading downstairs.

“Well, my suspensions were true,” Amanda smirked. “I don't know if it's good to know or not”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “We've been dating for about 5 months now,” she admitted. “I'm happy, happier than I've been in a while”

“and that's all that matters,” Amanda smiled. “Just tell Daniel, you're his baby sister. He's gonna be more upset you've hid this for this long”

“I'll tell him” y/n said firmly.

--------(The next week, Miyagi-do)--------

“Good morning, handsome” she smirked, fisting his gi as she pressed her lips against his.

“Mornin’, sweetheart” Johnny said with a smirk as his hands gripped her hips as he held her close to his body. Johnny pushed her against the wall and leaned down, his face close to hers.

“You look damn good in these” He said, referring to her gi as he smirked again. Johnny pressed his body against hers, his hands still on her hips. He loved how she looked right now, all the right curves were in the right places. Johnny moved his face closer to her neck, his lips close to her skin. He could smell her perfume.

“I can't stop thinking about you” She cupped his jaw, guiding his head up and pressed her lips against his.

“I can't stop thinking about that hot tub” He smirked, his hands tightened their grip on her hips. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, slapping his chest. He chuckles as he returns the kiss eagerly, his tongue slipping into her mouth. Johnny pressed her against the wall, his body flush against hers, as his hands began to wander across her body.

“Hey, y/n. Have you seen-” Daniel paused, eyes widening at what he saw.

Johnny stopped what he was doing, cursing to himself. He quickly stepped back from y/n and put some space between the two of them. Daniel looked between the two of them, shocked and surprised.

Johnny was desperately thinking of a way to explain this. “Okay listen, before you freak out-”

“Danny” she said at the same time.

Daniel's gaze moved between y/n and Johnny, his expression still in complete shock. He was trying to process what he was seeing, and it was taking him a minute. “Wait. what is going on here?” He asked, his eyes darting between the two.

“we're dating”

Daniel was completely stunned by the revelation. “You and Johnny? Like dating, as a couple? Together?” Daniel's voice was filled with disbelief, his mind still struggling to process this.

“Yes”

“When... how...? How long has this been going on?” He struggled to say, trying to wrap his head around the idea of his sister and his old enemy dating.

“Five months” y/n said shamelessly.

Daniel's jaw dropped, the disbelief becoming even more apparent on his face. He still couldn't quite believe that this was happening for five months right under his nose. “I'll let you guys talk” Johnny cleared his throat, leaving.

As soon as Johnny left, Daniel started back up again. “Five months? And you, you didn't think to tell me? Why would you keep this a secret?” He asked, his voice filled with confusion, pain, and even a hint of betrayal.

“I'm really sorry I didn't tell you,” she paused, looking at Johnny through the window then back at Daniel. “we didn't know how to tell you”

Daniel shook his head, still trying to process everything. “But, why keep it a secret? And why with HIM? Out of all people, why Johnny?” He said, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of anger.

Y/n looked her brother straight in the eyes. “I love him”

Daniel's expression softened, his anger giving way to surprise at your confession. He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm and composed. “You, you love him? You're serious about this?” Daniel asked, his voice quieter, to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

“Yes” she said softly.

Daniel's expression softened even more, his surprise and disbelief slowly giving way to acceptance. He let out a sigh, still clearly struggling to understand how this had happened. “I don't know what to say,” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to process his emotions. After a moment of contemplation, Daniel looked back at her with a mix of concern and protectiveness. “But, are you happy? Is he treating you right?”

“Of course” y/n said truthfully.

Daniel studied her closely, searching her face for any signs of hesitation or dishonesty. Seeing that she was being truthful, Daniel's expression softened even further. “Okay, okay”

He let out a sigh, realizing that there was no point in trying to fight this. “as long as you're happy” Daniel sighed, hugging her. The two of them walked back outside and he turned to look at Johnny, his expression hardening for a moment as he spoke. “You better treat her right, Lawrence. Otherwise, you'll have me to deal with. Understand?”

“Don't worry about any of that” Johnny said truthfully and Daniel honestly couldn't find any reason not to believe him.

Johnny shrugged. “and Amanda had already threatened my life”

Daniel whipped his head back to y/n and she glared at Johnny. “Amanda knows too?!”

“oops”

[duckymcdoorknob]

TALL ASS GIF WHAT THE FUCK !!!!!

This duck is out of her funk and ready to rock and roll

Pls forgive if the events aren’t chronological; I have not been in this arc for literally 50 episodes 😭

Wake Up Call

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

Ships: None! Kurama and Yusuke

Warnings: Tickles, small amount of foot tks, LIGHT SPOILERS FOR DARK TOURNAMENT ARC! Episodes 26-30 ish.

Prompt: The team gets scarce time to rest, so Yusuke has a bad habit of falling asleep in places he really shouldn’t…

Tags: @giggly-squiggily the queen herself for helping me out of a slump! @mystwrites My fellow YYH fan🛐 @chrimsss bc I tag you in everything :)) (ily)

Ever since Yusuke woke up, he wished with every step that he could go back to sleep. Sure, he was totally spent and straight-up passed out because of overusing his energy—hell, he STILL didn’t know how to control himself—but nothing beat the sweet dreams that followed him into that wonderful “nap” he was able to have.

Now? Hah, as if.

Every single day, it was “Fight these two teams back-to-back today!” or “Oh, Urameshi, I’ll take the tough one!” (As if he’d let his friend put his life on the line like that when he could do so himself!) or “Foolish humans, of course I know how to play cards.”

As if not sleeping till well into the early morning wasn’t enough, the boy was on a strict morning routine—courtesy of Genkai. He was to wake at five A.M. and go for a run, (which he didn’t much mind; he was “born on a treadmill,” as he claimed.) Then, it was endurance, power, and dodge training. Shortly after, he would have a quick breakfast with his friends, and then the fights began promptly at 8:00 on the dot.

To be honest, Yusuke was absolutely dog-tired, and there was no way he would survive the evening before “bedtime.”

It was a rare night for Team Urameshi to have downtime. Having just defeated Team Mashou, the four were having a wonderfully solemn evening. Kuwabara was very determined to teach Hiei to play Daifugo, Kurama and Botan were telling stories to Keiko and Shizuru, and Yusuke was on the couch spectating “the card game.”

In reality, the only thing that Yusuke was spectating was the inside of his eyelids.

The spirit detective blinked in and out of reality as his teammates’ voices began to warble in his ears. Despite Kuwabara’s incessant yelling, Kurama’s gentle tone was just enough to help drown out the cacophony behind him.

Trying his best to sound fully alert, Yusuke slurred out a sentence. “Yanno, ‘Rama, youshuld stard a pogcazt. You hav a ni’ voice.” (You know, Kurama, you should start a podcast. You have a nice voice.)

The redhead’s attention was beheld at the mention of his name, and he quickly turned towards the couch. “A podcast you say?” Excusing himself, the youkai stepped toward his team members, finding Yusuke curled up on the couch, blinking slowly.

Lifting the boy’s ankles momentarily so to not disturb him, Kurama opted to sit next to Yusuke, placing them atop of his lap. “So, what’s happening with them?”

“Ku-‘bara teachin’ Hiei *yawn* Daif’go.” (Kuwabara is teaching Hiei Daifugo.)

“I see,” Kurama hummed, absentmindedly stroking one of the spirit detective’s ankles with his thumb. “How do you think it’s going?”

There was a silence.

Well, as silent as it could be with Hiei and Kuwabara bickering.

“Yusuke?”

When the youkai turned to his right, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The boy was absolutely passed out on the couch, seemingly fallen asleep from the comforting touch. His hair was slightly disheveled, his shirt had ridden up to reveal his stomach a bit as well.

“Yusuke, you shouldn’t fall asleep here; you’ll wake up sore tomorrow,” Kurama hummed, patting the top of the boy’s socked foot. “Wake up, child.”

Another silent response from the teenager elicited a sigh from the redhead. His attention was grabbed by a yelp from Kuwabara, having just been jabbed in the stomach by a disgruntled Hiei.

That’s it! But was Yusuke even-?

Only one way to find out…

With a bout of curiosity, Kurama scooted his hand from the spirit detective’s ankle down to his foot. He used two fingers to lightly swipe downward, eyes never leaving the sleeping figure on the other end of the couch. “Yusuke, wake up.”

Kurama was met with a light jerk backwards and a curl of the boy’s toes. ‘How precious’ he thought as he repeated the action. ‘So he is ticklish…’

“Come on now, it’s time to go to sleep in your bed,” the youkai murmured, using all five fingers to go in with more fervor. “Come on…”

Yusuke sighed out a groan, turning over onto his stomach atop of Kurama’s lap. “S’eepy,” he mumbled. He snuggled into the pillow, slumping downward as he exhaled comfortably.

‘It’s almost as if he wants me to tickle him. He’s just flipped himself completely defenseless.’

“Honestly, Yusuke, you cannot expect me to simply leave you alone now. I swear you’ve much to learn,” the redhead reported as he once again started to spider his fingers on the boy’s feet.

Giggly exhales escaped the spirit detective while both of his legs shot upward in the air out of defense. Kurama chuckled and stood up. “Thank you for setting me free from my prison. Now then, up with you now.”

A small groan answered his request, eliciting an eyeroll from the youkai. The boy put his legs back on the couch and snuggled in deeper. The fox demon sighed deeply, kneeling down toward Yusuke’s head.

“Yusuke…” he hummed in annoyance. Kurama’s hand gently brushed the hairs away from the spirit detective’s forehead. His hand came to rest on the boy’s cheek, his thumb gently stroking it. “Come on now… you don’t really want to sleep on this couch, do you? It doesn’t even have seats with fabric. Do you know just how filthy leather can get?”

Kurama was merely met with a relaxed sigh and a smile of comfort—which he should’ve expected after giving such soothing touches to his face.

“Alright, fine. You wish to do things the hard way, then I shall do them the hard way. I am giving you one last chance to stand up and sleep, then I will resort to drastic measures.”

The youkai relaxed a bit when he saw Yusuke open his eyes. With bleary, heavy eyes, the boy glared at the redhead while he stuck his tongue out. Afterward, he immediately shut his eyes and hid his face in the pillow once more.

“Alright, fine,” Kurama said impatiently, “if you’re going to be so difficult, then I shall too be difficult.” And with that, the fox demon shifted downward and began to trace ticklish shapes into the boy’s back and shoulders. “If you don’t wake up, then I shall make you.”

The gentlest giggling broke Kuwabara and Hiei from their argument, turning their attention toward the couch.

“Come on, Yusuke, surely you can just listen and avoid losing your dignity,” Kurama reported.

“Nohohoho,” Yusuke whined as he squirmed.

“Oh! He speaks; good morning! Are you going to listen to me now?”

Hiei and Kuwabara—for the first time that either can recall—looked menacingly at one another, excited to view the endeavor. They watched their friend frantically shake his head “no.” Whether it was in response to Kurama’s question or his ticklish touch, neither knew the answer for sure.

“Kurahahamahahaha,” Yusuke whined, scrunching up a bit as the tickling fingers were dangerously close to his neck. “Nohohoho. Nohohoho tihihihickles!”

“Oh yes, if I must. I must “tickles” if it means it’ll get you to bed sooner. Maybe I need a new spot, hmm?” With these teasing words, the youkai’s hands shot down to Yusuke’s sides and begun to squeeze.

Feet kick rapidly as a very high-octaved squeak escaped the boy “shihihihit!” He whined. “Kurahahamahaha! Nohohohoho!”

The redhead simply smiled innocently at him. The commotion had gained the attention of Botan, Keiko, and Shizuru, who all had stopped to listen in on the event unfolding.

“Do you concede?”

“Nehehehev-hehehahahaha! Plehehehehease!” the spirit detective whined.

“Hmm. I must get creative it seems…” the youkai mused, quickly shooting his hands up to worm under Yusuke’s arms. He had been hugging the pillow for a while, leaving himself totally vulnerable. “How about here?”

An extremely manly yelp escaped his lips as the spirit detective clamped his arms down. He managed to trap Kurama’s assaulting fingers! Just… much lower… between his underarms and ribs… oh no…

“Dahahahammihihihit! Nohohoho! Kura-ahahaha! Shihihit- agh! Nohohohohoho! Nonononohohohoho!”

Yusuke’s feet rapidly kicked up and down as his laughter grew in volume. As if he didn’t get everyone’s attention before, he was destined to now.

“Well?” Kurama asked, completely unfazed by the boy’s reaction.

“Kurahaha- Kurahahahama! Nohohoho! Lehehet mehehe sleheheheep!”

“I suppose you leave me with no choice now, child. My apologies for exploiting your weaknesses in this way.”

What the hell was that stupid fox talking about? Why wasn’t he going to just let him sleep on the couch? What was so wrong with it anyways? Sure, there’s probably piss and blood and all sorts of fun things on the seats but-

Yusuke’s chain of thought completely halted when he felt forefingers and thumbs pinching at his hipbones. Eyes squeezing shut, the boy squealed into the pillow, shaking his head frantically. “NONONONO PLEHEHEHEHEASE! KURAHAH- FUHUHUHUCK YOHOHOU! NOHOHOHO! SHITSHITSHIT YOHOHOHOU BIHIHIHITCH! PFFFAHAHAHA!”

“Quite the mouth on you, Yusuke. If my morals serve me right, I do believe that a punishment is in order,” the redhead hummed with a close-eyed smile, squeezing with more fervor.

The spirit detective’s voice escaped him, and only squeaky responses came as he squirmed relentlessly. “NOHOHOHO! KURAHAHAHAMAHAHA! IHIHIM- HEHEHEHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIM SOHOHOHORRY! IHIHILL- *snort* OHOHOHO MY GOHOHOHOD- FUHUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF!”

“What was that?”

“IHIHIHI’LL SLEHEHEHEHEEP! IHIHIH’LL SLEHEHEHEEP! *snort* OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY! *snort* STAHAHAHAP!”

With a small grunt of admiration, the youkai ceased his “torturous” attack, allowing the boy to catch his breath. Finally looking up at the room, he blinked a few times when he noticed the rest of their friends staring at the two of them with dopey grins—minus Hiei—on their faces. “Oh my… it seems you’ve gained quite an audience, Yusuke.”

A high-pitched sound of disapproval left him as the spirit detective yawned. Flipping back over onto his back, Yusuke huffed and sunk into the couch. It wasn’t long before his eyes were fluttered closed once more.

The fox demon sighed when he looked back down at the boy. “Perhaps it’d be best to take the path of least resistance,” he murmured as he carefully slid his arms underneath Yusuke’s neck and knees, quickly placing him into a secure hold. “I shall be taking this one to bed, and hopefully I will be back within a few minutes. In the event I do not return, I shall see you all in the morning.”

After nodding to everyone to bid them adieu, Kurama trudged out of the room, looking down fondly at the teenager in his arms—who had absentmindedly turned toward the fox demon’s body and cuddled up. The redhead sighed with a warm smile, whispering:

“Atop of everything else, must I now be your mother too, Yusuke?”

Kurama helped Yusuke down onto the bed, carefully pulling his socks off and removing his jacket. He placed the two items neatly on the nightstand before kneeling by the boy’s bedside to brush the hair away from his eyes once more. “I suppose I should get back out there… hm?”

Expecting no response, Kurama blinked harshly in shock over a drowsy message. “You don’t have to… go back… you can *yawn* you can stay… in here.”

Another fond smile found its way to the fox demon’s lips. “Alright, move over,” he hummed as he slid his shoes off, taking a book out of his pocket. He sat down on the bed next to Yusuke, and opened up to where he had left off. Every so often, he felt the boy shifting next to him.

“You may rest against me; I don’t mind one bit.”

The sleepy spirit detective smiled as he scooched closer to the youkai, placing his head on Kurama’s lap. The redhead reached down to gently run his fingers against Yusuke’s head and through his hair, grinning tenderly at how differently he acted behind closed doors.

“After all you’ve endured, you’re still just a child… aren’t you…?”

Yusuke could only hum sleepily as the youkai covered him with a blanket.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[nomsfaultau]

I miiiight've skipped the last day. Which was yesterday. But uh. It's finee

DAILY ASK S2 №30

Theme: End

1. First of all, I am so sorry for skipping like 3 days and constantly sending the ones that I did send late. I know that it's all voluntary but gah. :(

I'm not quite sure if I'll be able to sustain the same 5 questions a day thing next year, so perhaps we can do something else? Do you have any wishes on what you'd like to do maybe? I can figure out how to do it.

2. To the fault crew: I officially apologize for my evil clone (even though it was technically WILBUR'S FAULT for summoning them >:( ) and to make it up I'd like to offer each of y'all a wish. No monkey pawing, you aren't gonna owe me anything, I don't need your name or anything like that.

3. Honestly I'm just really curious about how the aftermath of the Malewife tournament would go for Lambs since he realised that his kids aren't actually dead. But that's unrelated. They get a copy of Fault! Phil's cheese bunker.

4. To the 116 East Normal Street crew: Everyone gets turned into mermaids for a day. As a treat <3

5. I think that's everyone who I've bothered this time around. Oh, well, and you, of course. For you: thank you for taking part in this event! You get a magical tablet which allows you to watch any and all of your fics as a movie/animated series. Hypothetically.

Bro it’s so chill. And uhh I’m super eepy but maybe a one question/scenario thing would be easier.

2. Tommy asked for his friends happiness which seems simple but probably involves like the Foundation poofing and complete societal restructuring to be anomaly inclusive. Tubbo wants peace. Which could go bad if it’s like, ‘the only way to have peace is if one group doesn’t exist’. Or maybe people incapable of having disagreement/it’s all homogenous, revelations can’t start, humanity is complacent. Or we just say world peace and stop asking how that goes and assume it’s peachy. The Blade wishes for Freedom, so The Blood God is probably gone, Foundation is dead, he has a laptop, maybe teleportation powers? Philza wants to not be alone. Nothing changes. Potentially going forward has a system of overlapping Collection systems, but he already tries to do that. Wilbur wishes to be normal. Good ending, anomalies are normalized. Whether him becoming human ends well is up to Wilbur ig.

3. Lambs character development would highly change motives and schemes, but not much day to day. He’s still wary of being hurt and has plenty of evidence to suggest it’s likely. However, trying to earn the “children’s’” trust is more genuine. ‘They’ referring to…the Malewife contestants? Fault made it, so now he has a copy. Still on the run so can’t access. Lambs wants to cry from relief that no longer starving. Golden Apples- welp cheese goes great with apple slices so that’s just tasty. Reunion thinks it’s a security nightmare and sends in teams of soldiers to clear the bunker. They die horribly to The Cheese Monster. Lord! can summon cheese so finds it pointless. Adds extra monsters to it. Lanterns enjoys the centuries and culture spanning cheeses. Babies starts selling the cheese immediately to make lots of money. Weight in Gold thinks the cheese is gold. I don’t recommend correcting the misconception…

4. I think this is Squidkid hell. Can’t go on land he’ll die. Can’t be wet he’ll krakenify. I reckon Niki, Tommy, Michael, Tub-0 can get on same as ever. R4N800 has to be water proof or dead. Techno can’t go to college now! Crap!

5. I tend to imagine animation while writing so that’s gotta help with the writing. Mannnn that’d be so nice. If only….

Thank you so much for all the questions! It’s been a joy working on them!

[airlocksandaviaries]

TOP GUN 86: FENCING ACADEMY AU

Bear with me. Hear me out. LET ME FINISH. Your local Top Gun obsessed fencer is here to give you Thoughts. Also fencing is always homoerotic so do with that what you will.

The flyboys are all in a fencing club/academy, one where they all have silly nicknames to put on their fencing jacket patches. The coach is Viper. Usually the coach is the only one with a silly nickname but it started one day and he allowed it. They all show up every other night to train and be silly together. But they're still in a class being taught by Viper and they're all trying to make it in the San Diego City Tournaments.

Maverick: He's a foil fencer, which is the most difficult sword form to consistently fence in. Points are scored by stabbing. It has the smallest valid target area and right of way is very strict (when two people hit at the same time, whoever gets the point is based on who had control of the action. This makes it very strategic). It's the form everyone starts out in. Maverick mastered it ages ago and everyone has been urging him to move up to something like Saber or Epee, which would be easier with his skill and would match his chaotic style. But he wouldn't listen and stay in foil for the challenge of it (and to annoy everyone with his unhinged tactics). He is a skilled fencer but will toy with you for a while before actually closing in for the win bc he likes to play.

Goose: He's the well-rounded guy. He mastered foil, epee, and saber. He liked them all but liked epee most of all (like foil, but with a larger target area and less strategy). He fences in foil most of the time, so that he and Maverick can fence together. They goof off all the time, and have secret handshakes when they finish their bouts together instead of just normal shaking hands. They talk and banter throughout every one of their bouts. Everyone assumes this means they're inexperienced, but when someone else fences one of them, they realize how skilled they both are.

Iceman: Also a foil guy, because he is in love with the precision and technique required. He has also tried the other sword forms, and fences Saber with Slider all the time, but he likes foil the most of all. He has the most precise and efficient style and will beat anyone almost instantly. He has found very few people who are able to beat him or even get a point against him in foil. He loves fencing the newbies and showing them no mercy.

Slider: Saber fencer, for sure. Yeah he tried foil and epee. Yeah he's decent at them. But nothing compares to running full speed at your opponent and whacking the hell out of them (sabers score points by slashing and everywhere is valid target area). Despite the love for the chaos he's actually a very refined and efficient saberist. He'll dash in and out and go for the top of your helmet.

Charlie: Instructor who works for the club. She barely fences bouts because she refuses to fence her students (no this is not a euphemism back off) but will teach all the newbies the techniques. She knows all the technical knowledge on all the forms and will ref all of the club members' and students' bouts for them (reffing is when you watch and judge who got what point). She gets along with all the students and members and is genuinely just an amazing person to see at the club every evening.

Viper: Coach. Only his friends and the instructors call him viper. He needs to be addressed as Coach at all times. He is incredibly strict and will tell everyone exactly what they did wrong, mercilessly. He normally sits in his office after training the new students but every once in a while he will come out to ref a bout and give a complete dressing down to whichever unlucky club member is goofing off and slipping technique. He keeps everyone on their toes but is a really good coach and will, if you're lucky, tell you he's proud of how far you've come.

Yes I based these on myself and others from my club whom I know and love.

LMK IF YOU GUYS WANT A PART TWO WHERE I TALK ABOUT BOUTS AND DYNAMICS AND SHIPPING 👀

THANK YOU TO @calkale FOR LISTENING TO MY UNHINGED RANTS

[thomasschabot]

bet all i have on that furrowed brow

jakob chychrun x fem!oc

isobel has a workplace crush and healthy dose of loneliness that jakob is more than willing to cure

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of spending the holidays alone, cursing, partial nudity, alcohol consumption

a/n: for @wyattjohnston 🩷 thank you so much for putting together yet another incredibly successful event, and for giving me the best gift of all - getting to write for you! i hope you enjoy x (we're just pretending hockey works like american football and the sens have a bye week over christmas okay? okay!) many wonderful thanks to @matthewtkachuk for singing my praises via text and fluffing up my ego

The string of days between Christmas and New Years always feels like purgatory. One holiday bleeds slowly into the next, and there’s a general consensus no one knows what day it is or how long it’s been since they ate something moderately healthy. For most it’s time well spent with family and friends, but for Isobel it’s a sentence to near solitary confinement. She has no family remotely close, few friends, and is much too stubborn to take up her co-workers’ invitations to join them on holiday getaways to ski chalets or sandy beaches. Isobel refuses to be more of an inconvenience than she already feels like she is, but it isn’t necessarily best for her mental health.

She spends as much time as possible at work, researching rising social media trends to present to the team and making sure all paperwork is up-to-date. The team will be able to start with their best foot forward in the new year, something Isobel is extremely proud of, and it keeps her going into the office even when she’d much prefer to stay in bed and wallow in the intense loneliness she feels. There isn’t a pressure to produce new deliverables, which is a slight stress relief. The analytics department isn’t needed as much with the bye week and most of the incoming reports can be run by Isobel alone. A number of years ago the NHL implemented bye weeks in addition to the all-star break, which allows each team to not have scheduled games during the regular season. This year Ottawa got lucky, with their break over the Christmas holidays, and players and support staff alike took the opportunity to get the hell out of the snowy capital.

As far as Isobel’s aware, very few members of the Senators organization stayed in the area. From social media she could see co-workers posting from almost every continent, enjoying all the world has to offer. Many roster players were in tropical destinations, hungry to get away from the ice and snow that ruled much of their daily lives. Claude Giroux has taken his family to the Caribbean and posts a rare snapshot of his young boys enjoying the water. Brady, ever the gracious captain, has taken what seems like half the team home with him to St. Louis in order to cheer on his sister’s university tournament being hosted in the same city. Only Jakob’s whereabouts are unknown, his absence from her life palpable, but Isobel’s sure he isn’t in Ottawa. Why would he be? There are a thousand different people and places vying for his attention, and one of them was sure to be the lucky winner. 

It’s her most guarded secret, the fact that Isobel has an almost debilitating crush on who is technically a co-worker, but she’s also sure everyone has figured it out, even Jakob himself. Working with professional athletes means there’s a serious lack of personal boundaries, and one’s private life isn’t exactly private, no matter how well guarded they may be. The boys Isobel works with will stop at nothing short of blackmail to get information out of her, even if it’s only ever used for in-house teasing. No one has said anything yet, which she’s incredibly grateful for, but Isobel can’t help but think it’s the main topic of conversation when she’s not around. 

The suburbs of Ottawa are desolate as Isobel winds through the streets to the Canadian Tire Centre. No car is on the road except her own, and there is only one in the parking lot when she pulls in. Badge in hand, Isobel treks up the steps and pulls open the large door at the back of the arena, one that isn’t used by anyone except members of the organization. Jamie, one of the building’s security guards, is face down in a book — it must have been his sedan parked beside her own sensible compact SUV. 

“Isobel Walker,” he says, surprised to see another person. The offices were open upon a technicality in contracts that is now grandfathered in, but it’s likely Jamie hasn’t seen anyone since he started his shift.  “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready with friends? The New Year's festivities start in a few hours.”

Isobel shakes her head. “Just wanted to square away a few things before the weekend. Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do. It’s just me this year.”

The attentive man doesn’t miss the sad downturn in her voice, or the longing for companionship in Isobel’s eyes. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get invited somewhere.” Jamie sounds resolute in the statement, but she knows it must be easy for him to think when once his shift is over he’ll return home to a wife and kids. When Isobel is done putting in work there’ll be no one waiting at home. 

The elevator dings then, signalling its availability to deliver a human to the floor where the data and analytics department is located. Isobel waves goodbye in an almost timid fashion, insisting she’ll take good care of herself and promising to at least look into doing something. Nothing will come of it, this she’s sure of, but a small white lie has never hurt anyone. In fact, Isobel deals almost exclusively in little white lies, whether it be to scouts who want to hear a specific player is doing bad so they feel less guilty about not advising the general manager to draft them or to teammates when they ask what she’s doing on the weekends. Telling Jamie one more won’t cause the world to fall apart. Isobel is sure of it.

Her cubicle is tucked just inside the glass doors that shelter the front office from the rest of the floor, but Isobel doesn't head there. Instead, she tiptoes through the space until the corkboard of Senators and their individual season stats is right in front of her. The photo of Jakob immediately catches her attention — not an official headshot but instead a picture from the charity gala last season — and Isobel notices it’s a cropped version of one she has on her desk. In the photo he’s posing with the analytics staff, goofy smile plastered on his face as he stands three people from Isobel. She also remembers that in the photo she’s not looking at the camera, but at him. Eventually she forces herself to stop looking at the gorgeous specimen that is Jakob Chychrun and accomplish what she intended to do. Taking one last look, Isobel places a distant memory that their eyes had locked seconds after the camera’s shutter went off. 

⭑⭒⭑

It’s long past sunset when Isobel returns home, and there’s no sense trying to scramble downtown to an overcrowded bar. She hadn’t been planning on it anyways despite what she told the only person she’s interacted with in a week. Things at the office didn’t take long to complete, despite the frequent distraction of Jakob’s gorgeous portrait in the background, but Isobel couldn’t bring herself to return to her empty home. Since the conversation with Jamie in the lobby she’s been dreading the silence that would greet her when the door rocked on its hinges. Instead of immediately returning home, Isobel drives eastward towards more connected areas of the city and marvels at the tourists in town to ring in the new year surrounded by history. Each street sign passed amalgamated into a mushed series in her brain, and once she could no longer tell what was real or imaginary Isobel turned and headed for home. 

As expected, the modest craftsman house Isobel occupies is dark and silent and lonely, as well as a million other words she can’t think of to encapsulate how isolated she feels. If she had been thinking clearly Isobel would have picked up take out on the drive back, but she wasn't in a completely sound frame of mind, therefore being resigned to heating up three day old broccoli pasta and drinking room temperature beer. She can’t even be bothered to change into comfortable clothing, instead throwing her blouse and slacks over the back of a dining room chair seconds before crashing onto the worn leather sofa inherited from a college roommate nearly a decade ago but that she can’t seem to get rid of. 

The television turns on at the press of a button, and Isobel briefly watches the sports highlights for updates on potential trade targets before deciding she’s done more than enough work for the day and switching to a New Years special. This one seems to be taking place in New York, a place she’s never been nor cared for, but at the moment Isobel would give anything to be there amongst the suffocating crowd. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so earth-shatteringly alone. 

Hours pass by and more beers are consumed, but Isobel can’t seem to reach the buzz she’s so desperately chasing. The performances and countdowns meld together but if questioned there wouldn’t be a detail missing from her recollection. No one could do that inebriated, further proving that getting drunk isn’t in the cards for her tonight. A chill settles over the room and Isobel struggles to wrangle a throw blanket free from its perch on the back of the couch. Though comfortable, sitting in only undergarments doesn’t provide much protection against the drafty windows she should call a repairman about. Some pop star, whom she doesn't particularly care about, is thanking fans for helping them reach a milestone this past calendar year and she zone out. Nothing and everything floats through Isobel’s brain all at once, swimming in circles and causing a beautiful confusion. 

The dull thud of a fist against the front door shakes Isobel from her stupor and possible slumber. Panic encroaches and her sharp survival instincts set in — the baseball bat normally kept in the corner of the living room grabbed and work clothes are haphazardly tossed over frame. The person on the other side of the wood slab is the last person she’s expecting to see, and the fact he’s standing there with a sheepish smile is astounding. Jakob Chychrun is on her doorstep, shifting his weight between the balls of his feet and carrying a large bottle of expensive champagne and a bag of garlic bread. 

“Hi.”

“Can I help you, Jakob?” she asks, but immediately backpedals when she realizes how ill-tempered the tone of the words made her seem. “I just wasn’t expecting any visitors and am wholly unprepared.”

He smiles even more, as though Isobel can actually solve a problem he’s been faced with, and gestures to the objects in his hands like it’s obvious. “Jamie mentioned you were spending the evening alone when I went into the rink this afternoon, and I had no plans, so I thought we could watch the dumb special programs and drown our sorrows in alcohol.”

The answer is so Jakob, so perfect and friendly and warm, Isobel can’t help but return his grin. “I told him I’d look into going out. What are you doing in the city?”

“I wanted a relaxing week.”

Isobel arches her eyebrow. “The beach isn’t relaxing?”

“Not as much as staying at home.”

“Oh.”

Jakob doesn’t skip a beat in bringing conversation back to his original proposition. “Well sweetheart, what do you say?”

All the air leaves her lungs at the pet name, but she manages to nod semi-enthusiastically and move to the side. Jakob slips off his shoes while Isobel closes the door and treads into the living space carefully, inspecting-without-inspecting the decor. She quickly plays the role of gracious hostess, getting her handsome guest a crystal flute and asking if he’d like anything to eat. Jakob declines, saying he had leftovers before coming over, and urges her to sit down and ‘stop fluttering around like a hummingbird’. She obliges, turning to face him and tucking her legs underneath her center of gravity.

Jakob rakes his eyes over Isobel, once, then a second time, before coughing rather aggressively. It rings through the quiet like a gunshot and nearly makes her jump. Unsure of what could have caused such a reaction, she looks down to find the previously hastily buttoned shirt has shifted, revealing a rather large patch of red lace that hints at what’s underneath. Surely that can’t be the reason the normally suave man across from her is a blushing mess?

He respectfully looks away while she adjusts, and Isobel finishes quickly before placing a tentative hand on her shoulder to let her know everything is back to normal. She’s desperate to dissuade any awkwardness. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Jakob laughs, but it comes out a little strangled. “Happens to the best of us. Well not me, in that exact way, but I’ve been caught in my fair share of wardrobe malfunctions.”

Isobel focuses extremely hard on not thinking about what that means, and unsure of where to go from the moment that was somehow vulnerable and impersonal at the same time, she reaches across Jakon to grab the bottle of champagne and doesn't even bother getting a glass. The cool liquid does wonders to soothe the fire in her insides, exacerbated by the fact that Jakob came to her, wanted to spend time with her. Some alcohol misses Isobel’s mouth, dribbles down her chin, but before she can even lift the bottle from her lips it’s being wiped away. 

It’s Jakob, she realizes, stroking his thumb across her skin tenderly and making sure there isn’t an opportunity for the champagne to stain the silk button up that she can never remember to take to the dry cleaners. Clouds immediately form in her mind and Isobel closes her eyes — this has to be a dream. An incredibly elaborate fantasy. Under no circumstance is Jakob Chychrun sitting on her couch staring at her with longing and centimetres away from her lips. She must have fallen asleep, and her dreams are vivid due to the beer. 

“Iso, sweetheart, hey,” Jakob says barely above a whisper, eyebrow furrowed with concern and the slightest bit of amusement. “You alright?”

Her eyelids flutter open, a bit heavy from all the alcohol she’s consumed, but her gaze is met with his blue eyes so close to her own and his fingers fiddling with the hem of her pants. Apparently this is in fact real life, and while Isobel had been trying to convince herself otherwise she’d missed Jakob inching closer and resting his forehead against her own. 

“Yeah,” she sputters, nearly choking on air for the second time that evening. “I drank a bit before you got here and I think it’s all catching up to me.”

Jakob smiles softly, like he already confirmed this, and it’s then she clues in to the fact there are four empty beer bottles on the coffee table. “Are you drunk?”

Laughter trickles from her lips. “I wish,” Isobel confesses, “It would make the loneliness a lot easier to ignore.”

Again, Jakob smiles like he understands. It’s a bit surreal, the way the two of them are so similar, but Isobel can’t help but enjoy learning about him  through these small glances. If she could keep her cool around the man for longer periods than the handful of minutes long interaction they’d shared, Isobel is almost sure they’d be friends, but the universe is cruel and unyielding. She’s destined to never know Jakob all that well, watching from the sidelines as he jokes with Brady and Tim, marvelling at his beauty and resigning herself to the fact he’ll never be yours. 

“Can I kiss you?”

The question steals every ounce of air from Isobel’s lungs. Jakob is looking at her intently, studying her features for clues or transgressions he unknowingly committed. She’s never been good at keeping her emotions steeled away, and Isobel knows everything is splayed on her face for him to decipher if he wants to. The most prominent one is shock. Isobel is beyond surprised he’s asking the one thing that’s been on the tip of her tongue  and whispering in her mind for years. 

“Are —” she struggles to find the words she wants to say. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

It’s Jakob’s turn to laugh. It’s a beautiful sound, his deep rumbles as he nods his head, and Isobel does her best to imprint it to memory. If this is the last time she’ll ever hear it she wants to give herself the best shot at remembering. 

“Pretty damn sure, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to do it since I joined the team.”

Isobel is now beyond shocked. “You’ve wanted to kiss me for three years?”

Jakob smiles in a way that allows it to reach his eyes. Beautiful, Isobel thinks, but doesn’t allow herself much time to focus on it, too eager to catch his next words. “Four if you count the time I got lost when Arizona was the visiting team and you held the door for me to get back to the locker rooms. You were wearing a black turtleneck that made your eyes look even more angelic than normal. I didn’t know that at the time, of course, but I did know I wanted to kiss you senseless.”

“Fuck me, you never thought to say anything when I was so clearly pining after you?” she whispers, emboldened and growing more confident under the confession and moving even closer until her lips are so close to Jakob’s she can feel the breath he inhales. 

It takes a moment, but Isobel gains the courage to tilt her head slightly upwards and slot her lips against Jakob’s. Time stops with the flourish of a cheesy romance novel, though she can’t find it in her to groan internally even if she would under normal circumstances. Nothing about what’s happening is normal, however. Kissing Jakob is perfect in ways Isobel could never accurately describe — all plump lips and gentle touches and whispered sweet nothings. She never wants it to end, but eventually he pulls back. 

He doesn’t stray far, just tucks her into his side with a hint of possession if Isobel squints , and cards his fingers through the matted ends of her hair. Jakob seems to have quite an affinity for the strands, allowing them to keep his attention while Isobel processes the fact that the man she’s been secretly in love with for years has also been in love with her for just as long.

“You know,” she says breathlessly, still in a surreal state from the kiss, “Maybe ringing in the new year won’t be so lonely after all.” 

Jakob giggles in the same warm and gleeful way that made Isobel fall in love with him all those years ago. “I hope not.”

The pair of them spend the remaining hours of the night eating, drinking, and talking about what the future holds. When the television program begins the countdown Jakob looks at Isobel with a gleam in his eyes, and waits until the ball drops to kiss her into the next year.

⭑⭒⭑

enjoy this fic? give it a reblog :)

[inventors-fair]

Ba-sick Designs

Burgeoning Frontier by @reaperfromtheabyss

Ooh, a classic Serra Avenger land. Honestly? Power level wise, I think this is pretty good. It’s obviously better in slower formats, but then again so is Temple of the False God, and no one is calling for that to be banned. I’m not sure if I want this to have a regular “T: Add C” ability just so it’s not a completely dead draw? I know I would just glance over an opening hand with this and two other lands, and only realize my mistake after keeping. Anyways, the name is pretty evocative, that of a developing frontier town that needs a bit of time to really get up and going, but I really think you could have slammed this one into a home run with some flavor text giving me a specific example. Maybe this is on the vaunted Wild West plane? Or maybe it’s the folks of Eldraine expanding into the wilds? Who knows? I want to, that’s for sure.

Cliffside Arboretum by @hypexion

This is probably the simplest land on the podium this week, and it’s that simplicity I love. Conditional duals are hard to design, especially since most of the “balanced” design space is taken up already. However, in a simple, clean ability, you made a dual that actively gets better when your land base gets worse. I’m a huge fan of that, since it’s definitely not designed for high power tournament play, but is the perfect thing for little Timmy to slot in his new Gruul deck. It’s not overly punishing either which is nice, but it’s great in your opening hand, and still good if you’re running mostly basics or fetchlands. I don’t have much else to comment- other than the fact that a cliffside arboretum sounds fantastic and makes me wish that we could commission artists for this silly little contest.

Thirsting Jungle by @nine-effing-hells

Conversely, this one is probably the most complex land in the top 6, but again deserves that position because of how smoothly everything fits. This land carries some super interesting tension between when you want to play it- turn 1, so you have an untapped triome for the rest of the game? Or forgo the early color fixing and hold onto it until you have some sac fodder, in order to turn this into an absolute beast that dodges most forms of removal? It asks you to make some hard decisions but rewards you for them both, which is what I love seeing in a design. I was going to comment on the lack of haste, before realizing it enters tapped, so that’s irrelevant. All in all, it’s an awesome card, and a manland that weirdly wants to push more aggro than control, which is awesome.

And that's that! I'm on vacation this week, but hopefully will be able to get the commentary to you good folks sometime soon.

Ciao!

~judge @naban-dean-of-irritation

[lonita]

Eyes and Balls

A friend and I, talking about our respective sports loves - she's football and I'm baseball, ascribed it to the fact that you love what you grow up being used to seeing. That's true, in a lot of ways. She grew up watching football with her father, going to Tiger Cats games and the like; and I grew up watching baseball with my grandfather, and classic Dodgers/Yankees grudge match world series. I don't watch baseball much anymore - I don't have cable (nor even a TV), watching the games online can be flaky at best, and the strikes kind of did a number on me years ago that I never quite got past. I've only ever been to one major league game, where the Red Sox beat the pants off the Blue Jays 14 - 1. I swear, as a visually impaired woman I'm sure I could have played outfield better that day than the guy who was doing it.

Here's the thing … I can still watch games if I want, but unless I watch them on TV it goes right by me. That's the one beauty, though, of watching baseball on TV - they always make it very clear where the ball is at any given time. With hockey, football, and basketball, to my eyes it's merely bunches of men going back and forth across various colours of surface. I can't see the detail. It's all lost on me. It just sort of hit me yesterday, when I thought maybe I should watch some of the online Coal Bowl games (it's a basketball tournament in Cape Breton that, as it happens, some of my cousin's children are playing in), even though I've never had a love of basketball, just to see what's going on - to keep in touch with what my family is doing and all that. But, there we are, all the detail of what's going on would be lost on me, so it's more groups of men running back and forth across a surface.

I used to think all the time about what I was missing in life, but not really in a participatory way. It was more of a can't-drive-a-car, can't-be-a-doctor, can't-operate-machinery sort of thinking. Today, though, I think about all the things I've missed because I can't see the detail. No animals-in-the-forest-watching, no people-watching, no shared sports experiences, no eye contact games with men. People have accused me of being rude because I don't look around when I hear someone who shouts after me without using my name, nor do I look at honking cars. No point. I can't see the people in the car, and unless you're within a couple of feet of me, I won't see you standing across the road shouting at me. Rather, I might see you, I just won't know it's you.

So, I spent a lot of my life not bothering with certain things, because there was no point in learning them - there was no point in learning the details of a sport I could never actually enjoy - either as a participant or a spectator. I never learned the details of most sports for that reason. I never bothered flirting with people for the same reason. At times, not being able to participate has been incredibly frustrating. It hasn't stopped me from having adventures and enjoying my life - but a lot of my pursuits are solitary, individual, and late-blooming.

Oddly, one of the things I enjoy most - making art - is only augmented by bad vision, rather than being hampered by it. Do I live the life of a photo-realist? Hell no; but I wouldn't want to. I'm a surrealist, an abstractionist, I like art made from accidents, and bad vision only helps. I prefer abstract art to representational art. I never much got into landscapes, unless it looked like a Dali-esque nightmare. I don't care for portraits either. I get more feeling out of abstract works - from colours, shapes, patterns - maybe because that's sometimes all I see of the world. It was great when I was taking a lot of photographs, because I did what I called abstract photography sometimes. It was never about taking pictures of Things, it was about taking pictures of their shapes and the way they fitted in to what was around them.

My life is a piece of melon on a buffet food tray. One time, I took a couple of cubes off a tray because I thought they were cheese, because from my eye level, looking down at a buffet table is just a sea of colours. My friend Diane spent a week in Cuba walking behind me at the resort's buffet line whispering in my ear about what was on the dishes in front of me. It's why I like buffets that label the food trays - at eye level. Makes life a little less gastronomically surprising.

I've missed out on a lot, which I suppose was my point - and it was sad, and sometimes still is; but I haven't missed out on everything, and that's good.

Incidentally, I hate melons - but I ate the cubes just the same, because I was too embarrassed not to.

[sirspazingtonthefourth]

People Call Me Dingo: Chapter 2

CW: Kidnapping

If it hadn't been the middle of the summer, Dingo would have attended the tournament. But it was going to last all day, and the dog needed to be able to go outside so he didn't relieve himself on the carpet, and it was too hot for him to just stay outside all day, so she was at home instead. It wasn't too bad though. Her parents were frequently sending her videos of her younger siblings, their takedowns and submissions. Their fights were pretty spaced out, but that meant that they could go and grab ice cream between the age and weight groups.

Honestly, if this wasn't a county wide tournament, and required for the kids to have a chance at the statewide competition, Dingo would have loudly denounced how poorly the whole thing was organized. Okay, she did that anyway, but she'd have been complaining about it outside of just her family.

Cheeto scratched at the back door for the umpteenth time in half an hour, and part of her cursed the dog for making her get up and down over and over, but she still got up and opened the back door, scratching the dog's ears as she did. He knew she'd put up with him more than the rest of the family, which was why he was scratching at the door to come back in a minute later while she set the timer to bring him in.

"Not this time, asshole," she said, more to herself than the dog in the other side of the glass. "You've been in and out all morning, five minutes won't kill you." She scrolled through her phone, checking the family chat to see a picture of her youngest sister mid submission. She was a slip of a thing, but Dingo had helped her practice her chokes enough times to know the girl had a hell of a grip and enough skill to give most quirked kids her age a run for their money.

A knock at the door caught her attention. It wasn't one of the neighbors, most of them had been part of the Network at some point of another. If they wanted to talk to her, they knew the code so that she'd actually open the door. She was pretty sure she hadn't almost been caught recently, so it probably wasn't the heroes either, and she didn't know of any incidents with some of the newer members, which meant it wasn't the cops. Maybe a salesman? No, a package was more likely.

She set her phone down, walking over to check the peephole. If it was a salseman she'd just leave it be. No point in opening the door, they'd leave eventually. A package would be simple enough, open the door and smile while she signed the delivery slip. But if it was a kid, she didn't want them to just be left out on the doorstep. God only knew how many times she'd gotten hurt and needed help only for someone to not answer the door.

A girl roughly her own age with copper hair stood outside the door. An eye patch covered one eye, and she was dressed in a poufy dress, stockings, and… were those roller skates? On the bright side, she didn't seem outwardly concerned, which meant she was probably just lost and not running from someone. Dingo just needed to be normal, don't make any sudden, threatening movements, and everything would be fine.

"Hi, how can I help you?" Dingo spoke in the friendly nurse voice she used at the hospital during her shadowing. Hopefully it would stop any conflicts before they started.

"Oh, hello. My uh… my car broke down a few blocks from here, and my phone isn't getting any signal. Would you mind if I used your phone to call a tow service?" The girl outside the door spoke with a heavy accent, though Dingo couldn't place it. Probably not American.

She supposed car troubles were normal enough, but a few blocks away put her in a populated neighborhood no matter where she'd allegedly broken down. Why walk, or rather skate, all the way here? How had she even been driving in roller skates? And not getting signal? In this part of town?

"Sorry, I've just got my mom's phone in case of emergencies, and I'm not really comfortable letting someone else use it. But I'd be more than happy to call you a tow service. Just give me a couple minutes to find one nearby, and I'll make the call. What does your car look like? Oh, and they'll probably want the license plate too."

The girl looked a little flabbergasted, and while Dingo wanted to chalk it up to her struggling with a language barrier she was too paranoid to hope. Her gut told her to tread carefully, and while it was sometimes wrong it was right often enough for her to listen to it.

"I'm Ko- Carrie. And the license plate… are you sure you'll remember it? Maybe I should come in and write it down for you." That was the last thing Dingo wanted.

"Oh, it's alright. I can come back once I get them on the line." She closed the door, locking it just to be sure, and double checked the dog was still waiting at the back door. The fences were tall and hard to climb, probably impossible in skates, but it was doable if you were determined or desperate enough. If Carrie made it into the yard, he'd be barking up a storm and running up to her for pets.

Dingo made her way towards the kitchen, grabbing a knife that she tucked up her sleeve and sending a quick text to Bat on her phone that someone was there and acting suspicious. They'd long since helped her bug the camera doorbell, and were connected to the camera in a moment, probably already searching through the police database. It'd contain known villains, yes, but also heroes and police, just in case they were following up on old leads.

She texted Bat again, telling them to play along, before calling one of their various numbers and opening the door to see Carrie standing there, arms crossed and looking rather miffed. She really hoped this girl just had a really weird story to tell, or was too new to the Network to know all the codes, but she couldn't bank on that. It was irresponsible, and it could get people hurt.

"Hi, is this Jacobson auto repair?" Bat didn't hesitate before replying, their voice morphing into that of a tired intern who was hoping not to have to deal with another lady screaming at them for something small.

"Yes, this is Jacobson auto repair. How may we be of service to you today?"

"I have someone here in need of a tow. I'll hand you over to them. Here you go, Carrie!"

Carrie, if that was her name, grabbed the phone as it was shoved into her hands, fumbling through the questions Bat asked. Inconspicuous things, like her full name, her license plate and number, where she broke down, her cars color, make, and model. All things that would be asked when ordering a tow. All things that could identify her.

"Alright. We'll send someone over as soon as we can. Our trucks are all busy at the moment, so it might take a while. We'll let you know when someone's on the way. Is there anything else we can do for you?" Bat asked, keeping up the same dead, exhausted voice the whole time.

"N-no, thank you," Carrie said, seeming to get more and more antsy the longer she talked to Bat. Sometime during the conversation, she had seemingly started to buzz.

"Okay. Have a wonderful rest of your day," Bat said, and the line clicked as they disconnected. Dingo held out her hand for the phone, and Carrie handed it over reluctantly.

"Are they normally swamped like that?"

"Eh, sometimes. More often on weekends since everyone's out and about when they break down. But hey, what can you do?" Dingo said, the lie flowing easily from her lips.

"Oh. In that case, do you mind if I come in? It's really warm out." No way was she going to let that happen, not until Bat got back to her. Carrie set off too many alarms in her head. She needed some excuse to keep her out for a couple more minutes. The timer for the dog went off in the kitchen with a ding, and she smiled.

"I am so sorry, but I have to bring the dog in, and he's sort of aggressive with new people. I can get him into the basement so he doesn't bother you, but that'll take a minute or two. Is that alright?"

"I think you misunderstand," Carrie said, bees beginning to crawl from her mouth and nose and ears. "I'm not asking."

Dingo moved to slam the door, but some of the bees got through. They went straight for her, making her dodge and preventing her from locking the door before Carrie could enter, spilling more bees into the living room.

Her phone had dropped from her hand as she worked to keep the bees away, and Carrie stomped on it with her roller skate, breaking it beyond repair. So much for hoping Bat could get her some info. A knife wouldn’t do any good here. She needed a way out.

The bees kept stinging her, but they were surprisingly easy to ignore. The stings didn’t even hurt that much, more like the prick of a needle than anything else. And the stings were going numb pretty quickly after, too.

Dingo tried to make a rush for the front door, only for more bees to swarm in front of her. Their stings might not have hurt too badly, but Dingo didn’t trust that there wasn’t some tradeoff for that. So she jumped back again, the bees following her and forming a wall in front of Carrie. She felt herself stumble a little, her head getting fuzzy as she started backing towards the dining room.

Shit. They held a sedative.

It was probably too late for her to hope to get away, if she was already feeling the effects. She needed to tell Bat to call the rest of the local Network or even the cops. Maybe even the heroes, though she hated to think about that.

She heard Cheeto barking through the glass, scratching at it as if he could dig through and get to her. She couldn’t let him in, not with the bees. They’d sting him too, and she doubted Carrie would really care all that much about hurting a dog while waiting for the sedative to kick in. The bees were still stinging her as her legs gave out, arms too weak to push her back up.

Carrie was tired of waiting for her to pass out it seemed, that or she was just cruel, because she kicked Dingo in the face. The world spun as she flipped onto her back, the pain in her jaw feeling distant as she fought against the sedative in her veins. Her vision was blurring, and she knew she couldn't call for help.

Carrie started muttering in a language Dingo couldn't understand, kneeling down as the bees stopped stinging her. They crawled back into her face as she started to lift Dingo and drag her towards the door. The last thought in her head as her eyes closed was that Bat should know who she was by now.

Masterlist

[casspurrjoybell-25]

Cold as Ice - Chapter 3 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Landon Reilly

I needed to change my running route or else I was going to end up on my ass every day.

Wren looked down at me with a smug expression, his mouth quirking up ever so slightly in amusement.

I glared up at him and pushed myself up from the ground.

"You're doing this on purpose now?" I spat.

"Perhaps," he said.

Who fucking says that?

"I know who you are, you know," I told him.

"I don't think we've met," he replied, feigning ignorance. I could practically feel my eye twitching in annoyance.

This guy was infuriating.

"Cut the shit," I snapped, pointing a finger at him.

"I know you know who I am and I know who you are now."

"I figured you would," he replied with a shrug, showing off his nonchalance.

"How long did it take for you to figure it out?"

Longer than I would ever admit to him.

He looked enough like Fox that I should have known instantly.

Wren smirked when I didn't say anything.

"You don't have to tell me. Your non-answer is an answer in itself."

"What the hell are you even talking about?"

"You not answering is telling me that you're too embarrassed to tell me how long it took you," Wren said, the smirk staying on his face.

"And now I know that for sure, since I'm having to spell this out for you."

I wanted to run at him and punch him in the face, my anger coming at me in waves.

That was what the Landon of a few months ago would have done but not this one.

Not the one that was a shell of who he once was or the one who knew his old anger was always misplaced.

That didn't stop me from clenching my fists at my sides, my fingernails digging into my skin.

Wren seemed determined to push my buttons and showing him that it was working was only going to make him do it even more.

"You knew who I was the whole time," I said it as a statement because I knew it was true.

He wouldn't have been so smug if it wasn't.

"The whole time?" he asked.

"I didn't think about you at all since we first saw each other but, yes, I knew when I saw you. I thought that much was obvious," he continued.

"Is that what you were doing? Thinking about me all weekend, trying to place where you knew me from? I'm flattered, Lance."

I grimaced.

"Lance?"

"That's what you're hung up on? And not the thinking about me all weekend thing? So it must be true."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.

"No, it's not. You look a lot like Fox."

"Right and you've punched his face a few times so it's a hard face to forget," Wren replied, the smirk dropping, though he still looked entirely at ease like this conversation bored him.

I didn't want him to see the remorse I felt.

I already felt dumber than him with the way he spoke and the way he looked at me, I didn't want him to see how truly weak and broken I was.

God knows what he would do with that.

"I can't talk anymore, Lance, I have things to do," Wren said after stunning me into silence.

"I think you should maybe stop getting in my way so you stop ending up on your ass and we don't have to have these conversations anymore."

He jogged away before I could formulate a response and I took off running the other way to blow off some steam.

He had simultaneously infuriated me and made me feel like shit.

If I kept running into him, I would be faced with that again and again, thinking about the harm I had caused and the damage I had done.

I was still so far from even being able to confront all that without feeling like throwing up.

That was why I wished I could have gone to school somewhere further away, where there was absolutely no chance of seeing anyone I knew but after what had happened at The Masters Tournament, where I started a bench-clearing brawl and ruined my team's season, barely any schools wanted me.

Providence College only offered me a spot because Micah's dad had pull there and he put in a word for me.

It was my only option and it was too close to home for me.

I'd have to play against guys from my old team and against Fox and Elijah, all of which probably had it out for me.

I would have to face them all once the season started in a little over a month and Wren was just a giant wake up call that it was coming.

I jogged back around to where I was going before bumping into Wren and entered a coffee shop near by.

As I was waiting in line, the bell on the door sounded and when I turned to look, there stood Wren.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Are you following me?"

"Are you following me?" he asked.

"I come here every day and I've never seen you here."

He walked up to stand behind me in line.

I pressed my lips together in a line, holding back from snapping at him.

"Trust me, Lance, if I wanted to follow you, I'd be way more discrete about it," Wren added, motioning for me to move up in the line.

"Can you stop calling me that?" I snapped as I turned to face away from him.

"I would if it didn't get you so riled up."

His face was set into a wicked, teasing smile when I turned back to glare at him.

It was a smile that looked like it was used to lure you in and turn on you when you least expected it.

It was evil and conniving, horrible but alluring.

His face was one you would see in a dream turned nightmare, something you thought was friendly and turned out it was not.

"Better turn around," Wren said in quiet, smooth voice.

"It's your turn, Lance."

I immediately turned around and walked up to the counter with the waiting cashier.

I ordered my drink and heard a snort from Wren as I did.

All I could do was ignore him.

He only acted like that because he wanted a reaction out of me and he was starting to see how easy it was to get one.

People like him thrived off of that.

You let them see even the smallest piece of you and they'll take advantage of it.

After I paid for my drink, I moved off to the side while I waited for it.

While I had been in this coffee place before, it wasn't a frequent spot for me.

Now that I knew Wren was a regular here, it definitely wouldn't become one.

"You know, if you're going to infiltrate my coffee place, you could at least order something good off their menu," Wren said after placing his order and coming to stand with me.

"They have a lot of good drinks and you ordered a hot coffee with oat milk and no sugar, like, what the fuck?"

I didn't say anything, I didn't even look at him as he stood next to me.

All those specialty coffees and drinks confused me, not that I'd ever admit that to him and I wasn't really used to coffee ordering anyway.

When I lived with my parents, my dad only ever let me have black coffee.

I only started getting oat milk because that was how Micah ordered his so I tried it one day, that was the extent of my coffee drinking.

For my dad, coffee in the morning was a means for energy, to wake me up in the early morning.

It wasn't to be enjoyed or had at any other time of day.

[bokutosbiceps]

KENGAN ASHURA: any characters you’d like with a s/o who has a business and is a business person who’s part of the Kengan tournaments but they have another fighter.

ohma, raian, gaolang, agito (separately) x CEO!s/o

warnings: cursing, death threats, violence

a/n: i didn’t do any kengan omega characters since it clearly says kengan ashura even though i love my boi koga 🥺anyways, i hope you enjoy !! oh, also, i used gn pronouns for the reader (when necessary) since it seemed like that’s what you wanted in your request :3

tokita ohma would be incredibly jealous. like extremely jealous. he doesn’t understand why you’d ask someone else to be your company’s fighter when you’re literally dating him. he is always around whenever you’re strategizing with your fighter + he’ll make little quips like “i’d knock em out faster” or “i could beat the shit outta you so easily”. whenever you’re not around, he’ll make death threats toward your fighter to try to get them to back out so he could take his rightful place as your fighter. you have to set some very serious + clear boundaries w ohma so he can chill out. you’d have to explain that the main reason you don’t want him as your fighter is because you don’t wanna subject him to injury just for your benefit, even though he’s told you many times that he’d gladly go to battle, and die, for you. i could see him becoming fast friends w your fighter if they’re competent + laid back. he’s still jealous that you didn’t choose him, though. he has kind of pure intentions…but we all know the bastard just wants to fucking fight + even better, fight for you.

kure raian is going to be so fucking petty about it. he immediately starts bitching + whining to you. when that doesn’t work, he will seriously try to scare the shit out of the fighter you chose. i honestly don’t see him stopping at killing your fighter. if that happens, you realize you pretty much have to let raian be your fighter or else. if he decides against killing your fighter, he’ll make their life a living hell. and yours. he is around you + your fighter ever waking moment you spend together. first, he makes sure nothing fishy is going on. two, he makes sure that your fighter knows that they’re dead w a single wrong move or loss. your fighter might end up running away out of fear for their own life. raian will probably end up becoming your fighter one way or another. it’s completely unavoidable.

gaolang wongsawat likes that you’re strong willed + doesn’t really mind that you didn’t choose him to be your fighter. you guys keep your relationship + goalang’s job v separate, so he truly has no problem with this. he will, however, do a little bit of training w your fighter for both his + your benefit. it’s nice to have someone to spar w him since they’re always around but he also wants to make sure that they’re a competent fighter. he trains them super well + he helps your fighter bring you massive success. he wouldn’t hold back while fighting in a real match, though. sorry, but he’s going to put your fighter in the ground + not even feel bad about it. in the back of his mind, that’s kinda what you deserve for not choosing him to be your fighter. you know he’s more than capable. but again, he likes that about you. you make your decisions for yourself + he’s ready to stand behind whatever decision you make.

kanoh agito is surprisingly okay with it. he trusts your judgment + while he knows he’s stronger than 99.9% of the world, he lets you make your own decisions. plus, he knows he’s legally obligated to fight for metsudo so he wouldn’t be able to fight for you. that doesn’t mean he won’t help tho. he’ll even offer to spar with your fighter to make sure they’re actually strong enough to bring in success for you. you appreciate his help + he does everything he can (inside of his contract w metsudo) to make sure that you will be successful w this fighter. he’s also v aware of the fact that you may have a fighter who’s not him for official kengan matches, but your true protector will always be him. he wouldn’t entrust that job to anyone else as long as he’s alive. not ever.

[sereinegemini]

Two Dark Princes ₊⋆ ☾

— Chapter VII

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader x Theodore Nott

Word Count: 879

Summary: Two years after Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord during the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts and most of the Wizarding World has returned to normal. But, F/n’s mundane life is flipped upside down after she learns that two of her best friends, Draco and Theo, are secretly in love with her. When this knowledge begins to affect her relationships, she is faced with difficult decisions, each one laced with promised heartache and the potential to awaken an unexpected darkness

Warnings: hostility, blood, a wee bit spooky

Hogwarts

Sunday, May 4, 1997

True darkness engulfed you. You could feel it shifting and swirling on some unknown wind. No light penetrated the empty space, but when you held out your hand you were able to see it. The black air slithered around your fingers like water. As far as you could tell nothing but you existed in this space.

“F/n?” a voice asked from all around you. It had a dreamlike element to it, almost like all at once it was there and not. And it was warm, reminding you of–

“Cedric?” you called back, frantically spinning and searching the void for any sign of another being. Your head was swimming. What was this place?

“I’ve missed you so much, my sunshine. You have no idea how lost I am without you.” Knuckles grazed your cheek gingerly, and you flinched at the phantom touch. No one was there.

“Ced, where…where are we? Where are you?” You couldn’t settle the rising panic in your voice.

“I’m right here, F/n.” Frustrated, hot breath washed over your face. You should have been able to see him. He was right there, dammit. But your vision remained blank, and if you hadn’t just seen your own hand you’d be positive your eyes were closed. He gripped your shoulders, nails biting into your skin enough for a whimper to escape you. “I’m tired of these games, F/n.”

“You’re hurting me. Ced, that hurts!” you cried. You moved to rip his arms away from you, but your hands met nothing but empty air.

He only clenched harder, roughly shaking you back and forth. “Why did you do it? Why did you throw away our love—our future—for them? They’re nothing. They’re filthy Slytherin snobs. We were going to have a future together, F/n. A family. Why did you ruin it? Why did you ruin it? Why did you–” Suddenly, an intense wind billowed past, gone as quick as it came. Cedric gone with it.

Left shaken and panting, you ran your fingertips along the pain burning in your shoulders. They came back wet. Confident you knew what the substance was, you licked it. Copper. Blood.

“Like what you taste?” a smug voice asked from behind you. Whirling around, you were met with exactly what you expected: nothing.

“Not particularly,” you whispered, your skin prickling alongside his presence as he circled you.

Stopping behind you, Theo roved his mouth over your ear. “That’s a shame, I’ve always sort of enjoyed it. It can be...comforting.” He pushed a finger against the small cuts, making you wince. You felt him lift it to his own mouth, a pleasured groan following. Then, his hand on your jaw, he forced your face towards him and brought his lips to yours. His tongue slithered between your teeth and spread the metallic taste into your mouth. Grimacing, you tripped over your feet as you broke away.

“What’s the matter, F/n? I thought that’s what drew you to us. The wickedness dwelling underneath. The Death Eaters our fathers raised us to be.”

“Isn’t that why you destroyed your perfect life for us? You know deep down a part of you is just like those little boys we’re trying desperately not to be,” Draco whispered against your hair, pulling your back against his chest.

Your chin was gripped with dreadful strength. “But you can only love one of us, L/n. So go on, who is it? Hm? It sure as hell isn’t that dumb Hufflepuff.” Theo’s dark chuckle made your veins run cold. “You destroyed that boy’s heart in the most admirable way. It would have been more merciful for you to rip it clean out and wear it on a chain around your neck.”

“Shut up.” You willed the tears in your eyes not to spill.

“Oh? Are you not proud of the way you wrecked poor Cedric Diggory? I hear he’s been awfully careless with his wand lately. Poor bloke is bound to blow himself up.”

“I said shut up!” you shrieked. 

The words continued to echo seconds after you sensed Draco disappear into thin air. You were left standing face to face with a red-eyed creature. It resembled a man and had its boney fingers pressed bruisingly into your jaw. He had replaced Theo, and in your sinking gut you knew exactly who this was despite never having seen him.

Lord Voldemort gave you a rotten-toothed grin. “I’ve been looking a long time for you, girl.”

Gasping awake, you laid completely still out of fear while you took in your surroundings. You were in the Astronomy Tower, rain from a storm pelting the floor mere feet from where you lay. Beside you, Theo was snoring softly, completely unaware of you or the nightmare previously tormenting you. Quills, parchments, and textbooks littered the floor where you’d spent most of the night studying. Final exams would begin next month and now was the time Professors encouraged students to start revisiting the material.

Lightning flashed across the moody sky, and the last thing on your mind was passing your finals. Because there was no doubt in your bones that nightmare wasn’t just some bad dream. Voldemort had been in your mind. And he wanted you for something.

« Chapter Six || Masterlist || Chapter Eight »

Be notified of future chapters!

[grapefruitey]

Would he be impressed in knowing that she could have made the college basketball team before she became the broken being that was in front of him? She didn't stand a chance at going pro but there would have been some tight games. She was something to see in action too. While only 5'4 (with an extra inch from her court shoes) she could jump like nobody's business and move faster than most of the giant girls. Those tournaments where her parents would be in the stands, screaming for her... Her parents screaming wasn't a good mental train to be on.

Valentine laughed, she couldn't help it. He was so sweet sometimes. It was one of the reasons why she could feel comfortable around him, why she could let her scars be seen and touched. Their first hookup wasn't meant to go anywhere but lo and behold it became a pattern. Maybe more than a pattern. If she was truthful with herself, and she rarely was, it was a comfort. It was proof that she was still human. There was no love during that lost year. Lust for violence but never for the company of other humans. Dovid became her connection to reality. "No, not like that. But I respect your sexuality." She didn't like the idea of him hooking up with anyone else though. That thought was almost enough to floor her. It was pretty obvious that she interacted with other people as little as possible so she certainly wasn't... Why would it matter that he did? They weren't anything but acquaintances after all.

The way his voice changed when he spoke again caused her heart to stall for a few moments. It happened with slightly more frequency the longer their connection went on but that party marked a significant uptick in moments that she was looking at him rather affectionately. If it wasn't for the fact that his honesty would require her to offer up more information to match his vulnerability, she would have been able to relax and comfort him. "That sucks." Valentine murmured. Truly an eloquent response. It was difficult being so unpracticed with other people. This was her first deep conversation in years. A confession that serious meant that there really was no wiggle room about her answering his question honestly. Unable to form more words of comfort, Valentine placed her hand over his and intertwined their fingers as she took a deep breath.

"I..." Her throat was dry, the words catching before she could even express them. "I was seventeen and I... got sick. So sick I fell asleep and didn't wake up for months. Then when I did, I was different. It was like an infection ad I wasn't in control of myself." Valentine kept her gaze down again as she struggled to explain it. Sure he may be open-minded about sexuality but not demons and possession. "I did some really bad stuff and... it was hell." She let out a choked laugh at that. Of course he wouldn't get the irony. "My parents um, they tried an experimental treatment." One that involved plenty of holy water and a couple of priests. Without realizing, Valentine's hold on his hand was tightening as she was getting more uncomfortable and tense the more she recounted.

"Like torture. It felt like weeks of torture. I was aware of it but couldn't control it or myself or what I was saying... And when he left, there was an accident and my.... my..." She could feel her heart racing, her pulse reacting to recalling her trauma. Valentine was barely aware of Dovid at that point as the words started coming out faster. "They um, they died. My parents. And the main priest who was helping and the whole house collapsed on us. And my brother still blames me. He's not wrong, I blame me too. So I'm just out here alone and trying to keep coming up with reasons to stay alive when it's all so pointless and I know what's coming next because he told me..." As Valentine's lip started trembling she finally ran out of words. She wanted to get up and run away, far away. Leave the party and the university and the state and that plane of existence. But she couldn't. She felt frozen in that spot of pure vulnerability.

there was a flutter in his heart that he didn’t understand when valentine simply hinted at attending one of his games. he didn’t really care, he reminded himself. val was barely even a friend, and beautiful as she was, she had no interest in actually being with him. nor did he have any interest in making her his girlfriend. their relationship—if it could even be called that—didn’t exist beyond the confines of dorm rooms and frat houses. to be in the open air, to be in the college stadium, seemed like a whole ‘nother plane of existence. the thought made his palms sweat and he didn’t know why. he had the urge to open the window and let some air in, but stayed firmly sitting next to her. her body was almost as familiar to him as his own, yet the heat of her skin so close to his just then set his nerves on fire and he reflexively bounced his knee. “i don’t think that’ll be a problem—we kind of suck, we can barely fill the stadium on a good day.” dovid laughed, though it wasn’t really a joke; no one on his team had any dreams of making it to the nfl one day. the non-delusional ones, at least.

the mood seemed to get even worse. his question sucked the air out of the room and he regretted asking it, but not enough to apologize. not when he wanted to know the answer. despite their months of hooking up, the small bits of conversation they shoved into the moments before and after fucking, dovid had never bothered to ask. before tonight, he barely bothered to get to know her. for her part, she seemed to want to know dovid even less. now she was in his room, among his belongings, more intimate than they had ever been before. his mouth quirked politely into a small smile, but he made no move to leave and get her another drink. if he left, dovid was sure the moment would pass and he wouldn’t get to know the answer, like this was the only leverage he had.

how open minded are you?

dovid’s brows creased in the middle. “you mean like… sexually?” suddenly he felt like the one exposed. typically, dovid felt no shame over his body or what he did with it, but the quick change in topic confused him. “i, like, hook up with guys sometimes, if that’s what you mean.” the truth was that since their arrangement started, dovid hadn’t really been with anyone else. he had no intention of being exclusive with valentine, especially since no one else knew about them being together, but he just hadn’t really tried to hook up with anyone when he could get his needs satisfied by val, albeit in secrecy. the more she spoke, the more he realized she didn’t mean sexually. oops.

“oh… okay.” dovid nodded slowly. it made sense. despite how confident dovid was, he could understand being scared. that fear of letting people get too close. he just never personally succumbed to it… or maybe he did, and it just manifested in a different way. his mother once posited that his affable, self-assured demeanor was partly a defense mechanism—act like the sun shone out of his ass, then no one would think any differently, then no one would see the hurt underneath—but dovid wasn’t sure. “i get that. bad stuff happened to me, too. i know it doesn’t seem like it, but it hasn’t always been easy for me.” she probably thought he was just some fool. a meathead jock that never had a worry in his life. sometimes, he thought that of himself, but then late at night, laying in bed in pitch blackness, he thought of his father. g-d, was he really going to tell her…? 

dovid swallowed thickly. “um. my dad, when i was a kid… he took himself out of my life… like, forever.” he tried to be delicate and vague, but it just sounded stupid. like he was making it up. “he killed himself, i mean. sorry, i was trying to be sensitive. i didn’t even really know him, i have like two or three pictures of us together. he basically knocked up my mom and fucked off back to poland, so i only saw him a few times a year and then when i was in second grade, he just… ended it. i don’t even really know why ‘cause he didn’t leave much of a note and i can’t read any polish anyway if he had. i guess he was just sad or whatever.” dovid blanched suddenly. he ran his palms over his shorts and looked away, embarrassed. “uh, sorry. i don’t think i’ve told anyone about that before.”

[adultish-momma]

Bonus Scene: Pay the Price

Yuu is not going to fall into the trap of doing the work without the title and the benefits thank you very much.

Warnings: The whole thing is just dialogue. I didn't write a single thing that wasn't being spoken out loud. It's mainly two separate conversations between two characters, but there are like, five 'speech bubbles' at the very end that is four distinct speakers, so feel free to ask me for clarification on who is speaking if you get confused!

A/n: While not fully on the "slander-Crowley" bandwagon (thank you weird complicated relationship with management/direct authority figures), no one is safe from Yuu's wrath. So let's cook some carrion.

P.S. If you want to place this in a timeline, the first conversation happens right after the beginning of Book 2, and the last conversation would be occurring soon into the interim of Book 2 and Book 3

"Crowley, I'm going to say this in the most polite and respectful way I can, but what the hell?"

"Language! Such aggression against your poor Headmage! Whatever have I done to deserve this treatment from my own student?"

"Did you or did you not just get out of another housewarden meeting?"

"Why yes, the meeting was actually quite productive for once. We were able to clear up some final details on an upcoming inter-dorm tournament. All because of my gracious guidance of course."

"An inter-dorm... Crowley, how many times do I need to tell you to invite me to Dormleader meetings? There is a student registered under my care, I have to know things! Like an inter-dorm tournament!"

"Yes yes yes, I'll remember next time, for I am oh so caring about my poor students' desires and needs. But would you look at that, I must be getting back to work, busy busy, running a school full of such unruly - I mean! Such energetic young men. Run along now Prefect, shoo, shoo"

--------

"Ah Headmaster, welcome back!"

"What- Wh- Prefect just what is the meaning of this?!"

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just updating my schedule with all of the Dormleader meetings you have planned for the rest of the semester. Oh! I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty to make a copy of last meeting's notes as well, since I was already here and all."

"Prefect, this is completely out of bounds. I let you get away with a lot, for I am ever so gracious, but breaking into my office to steal confidential information is beyond crossing the line. The Prefect of Ramshackle you may be, but you are not a housewarden. You do not have the same level of access, nor the same privileges that they receive. You would do well to remember this."

"Mmm. Is that so? Well, alright, message heard loud and clear. I'll be going now, good luck with all that paperwork."

"Paper- Prefect what is this stack of papers you're leaving behind!? This is nearly as tall as my beak is long!"

"Oh, all that? That's all the paperwork every dorm has to have completed for the school. Stuff like budgets and activity proposals and student reports. There's some extra in this stack since Ramshackle is being re-established, so some of this is things like drafts of the dorm code of conduct and mock-ups of uniforms for the Ramshackle students. At least 20 pages are just the building inspection "this absolutely needs to be fixed" checklist."

"And why have you decided to leave your paperwork behind on my desk?"

"Because that's all paperwork for the dorm leader to fill out. And I'm not a dorm leader. So when a dorm has no house warden or vice house warden, that dorm's assigned staff member takes on the duties of house warden until a student replacement can be assigned as the new dorm leader. And seeing as you're Night Raven's esteemed HeadMage, I'm sure you're well aware of the fact that you are the assigned staff member for Ramshackle dorm."

"O-of course I knew that. And as the esteemed HeadMage of this institution, I am much too busy to be doing so much paperwork for only one dorm. I would love to help my poor magicless student, for my heart is filled with such sorrow thinking about your tragic situation. But I am afraid that if I take on the house warden paperwork for Ramshackle, on top of all the ever-so-important duties I have as HeadMage of Night Raven College, I will never be able to search for a way to send you home Prefect."

"Are you trying to blackmail me into doing the work of a dorm leader, but receiving none of the benefits that come with that title?"

"Why I would never do such an outrageous thing! Me, blackmail a student? Why, I was just lamenting over how terrible your situation already is, and how much potential it has to get even worse."

"Speaking of my situation, I bet it would make such an interesting story to the news outlets and reporters throughout Twisted Wonderland. The magicless student from another dimension, brought here against their will, started as a janitor and is now the top student in their grade at the revered Night Raven College for the Arcane Arts. What an underdog story. Personally, I think Professor Ambrose at RSA will enjoy hearing about just how generous you've been to poor pitiful me."

"Yuu, are you blackmailing me?"

"Dire, do you want me to do the Ramshackle paperwork?"

...

...

"What exactly is it that you want?"

------------------------------

"Oh! Prefect, I didn't expect to see you here. Crowley hasn't arrived yet if you were looking for him. But you'll have to make it quick, for we should be trying to start our House Warden meeting fairly soon after he gets here."

"Oh thank you Riddle, but I'm here for the meeting."

"Oi, Herbivore, your ears are working, right? House Warden meeting. As in, not for cubs like you. So move along, before that crazy crow comes. Can't get a moment of peace if he sees his 'precious Prefect'"

"Ah well you see, the thing is-"

"Amazing! I see everyone is here and ready for the meeting to start. First order of business. I'd like you all to meet Yuu, the new Ramshackle House Warden."

[dompler]

what she says: i like pete white

what she means: there is so much lore casually dropped about pete white we aren't talking about. there is so much fucking untouched lore with him. who was he in between his college days and hosting quizboys? billy became notorious after the shit white pulled on that day on quizboys, yet any time pete is seen by other characters (especially people that would know of him, like augustus st. cloud) he's ALWAYS referred to as "that albino" or some variant. is that his divine punishment for being so self-driven, the "ever popular pete white" who barely made a scratch in the history of television? what about the deleted scene where he's doing coke at the bar rusty's bar Before going to Put On His Makeup Before Quizboys. that alone could imply his eagerness and impulsivity to just ditch EVERYTHING to go do whatever the fuck across the country with billy, how he was able to mix up a quiz tournament with a dog fight; he's admitted to "pissing away [his] savings on blow" before they left, and they sure as hell didn't get much farther than where billy left pete if you see where conjectural is run from. that and him willingly sitting out in the sun after all of that, pete "my body hates the sun on a molecular level" white, going through withdrawal and dealing with the guilt of having fucked over his one true friend, LITERALLY dying in the sun. and do not even get me started on how albinos are just treated like fancy pets to the rest of the cast. what the fuck.

[thatonerandomchick1]

That Mouth and a Quick Taste

Hello! This is the second part in the That Mouth Series, I hope you like it!

The Kyoto Exchange Event was put on pause after we were ambushed by the unregistered special grade curses. Fushiguro was injured during the fight and was now resting after being treated by Shoko. 

I knocked on Nobara’s door. “Kugisaki I have an idea. I’m going to go check on Fushiguro. Shoko texted me and told me he should be waking up soon.”

“Figures you want to check on Fushiguro. I could care less. Who would want to see an even more grumpy and brooding Fushiguro,” Nobara asks while getting dressed to leave.

“He got hit with that special grade’s technique, so I just want to make sure he’s okay. Is that so bad?” My eyes follow her around the dorm room. I love how she’s literally getting dressed but saying she doesn’t want to go. 

“Yeah sure,” she chided walking straight past me and out the door.

“For someone who didn’t want to see him, you sure did beat me out the room Nobara.”  As we walked down the hall and out of the dorms, we came to meet  itadori.

“Yuji what are you doing here?”

“Nobara texted me just now saying you were going to see Fushiguro, so I ran as quick as I could to come with you,” Yuji sheepishly explained.

“You ran all the way here? And that fast?” You knew Itadori could run but damn! Maybe he should have took up Olympic training instead of Sorcery.

“Yeah, but to tell you the truth I was already running from someone,” he mentions under his breath.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Nobara stated.  “Let’s just go.”

After a brief walk, we arrived to see a wild Fushiguro in his natural habitat. 

Sulking in bed.

“Oi… Don’t get to excited to see us. You might pop a blood vessel,” teases  Nobara.

You lightly push her away, “Oh leave him alone! You know how he is.”

“Fushiguro!” 

Yuji all but runs over to greet his brooding friend. “Would you keep it down, my head hurts,” Megumi chides.. a small smile appearing on his face.

What a softie.

“We figured you were hungry so we ordered some pizza. It should arrive any minute,” Nobara explains with a small smirk on her face to which Fushiguro causally wipes from her face with his next statement. 

“Pizza? Really? That’s the first thing you think of to bring me to eat?”

Kugisaki, not one to ever let someone to have the last word, “Well I didn’t have to think at all. See just ungrateful!” She threw her arms up dramatically and looked at you for justification. You just shook my head. 

“Technically, you didn’t think about food, Yuji did,” you replied.

“Figures.”

Oh hush Fushiguro! You should be glad that I am even here. My presence is a present. Kiss my ass,” Nobara joked.

Unable to keep it together, we all laughed at Nobara and her shenanigans. Gotta love her.

Shortly after, the pizza arrived, we all sat and talked regarding our current situation: The botched Kyoto exchange event.

“Can you believe that they are continuing the exchange event,” Kugisaki stated annoyed. 

“Nobody but Gojo! Over here spewing mess like they’re kids they should be able to enjoy the pleasures of youth,” you replied as you recalled a piece of your conversation with the man-child before his meeting with the higher ups. 

“He needs to take us on a vacation.”

“Right?!”

“Correct.”

“And should,” you added. 

“Who do you think we’ll have to fight tomorrow?” asked Yuji. 

“I don’t know, but what do know is that it can’t be good messing around with Gojo. We might as well be in a  holiday bake off tournament or  something outrageous to that effect.” 

“You’re probably right. Just give him raw sugar.. you’ll win,” Megumi adds.

“I wish they’ll cancel it all together. I mean you’re still hurt Megumi, Nobara got knocked the hell out , and Yuji was barely removed from Kyoto high’s most wanted,” You say nonchalantly.

“First of all it was a sneak attack…,” defended Nobara.

“Still counts.”

“Shut up itadori! Who’s side are you on anyway?”

 You laughed and went to reach for the last slice of pizza. 

However, at the same time, Yuji was as well.

You both make eye contact and a intense staring match ensues.

“Itadori…. I love you ,but I’m gonna eat this last slice.”

Itadori places one hand on his chest and feigns a hurt expression as he says your name. “I’m touched but not enough for you to have the last slice.”

“You gonna let him talk to you like that?” Megumi instigates. That little trouble maker.

“No, but I do know how we can settle this. Rick paper scissors,” you reply.

“No!! I always lose.”

“And your point?”

“He’s right! He does always lose at that game,” Nobara defends.

“Ok! Okay! Let’s play thumb war,” You suggested in defeat.

“Deal,” itadori agrees as he puts his hand out to grab yours. You grasp his hand in yours ready to begin the children’s game.

“I’m all for girl power y/n, but Yuji’s hand all but swallows yours.”

“Don’t do me Nobara!   And thanks for the support,” you yell sarcastically.

The epic thumb battle commences and it honestly carries out for too long. It was just a never ending cycle of Yuji trying to manhandle your thumb, and you almost snatching your hand away only for him to pull it back. You used your pinky finger to tickle his palm in a attempt to through him off his game, when you felt something warm and wet touch your palm.

“Ewww! What the hell Yuji?” You scream as he pinned your thumb.

“I win!”

You immediately pull your hand back when he lets go. You look down at his hand only to see a mouth smirking back at you.

“Tasty.”

Realizing what had occurred, Yuji began to apologize profusely. “I’m so sorry… y/n are you ok?”

You were more shocked than anything. “Yuji I’m really gonna beat your ass.”

“What! It wasn’t me!”

“Gross itadori,” Fushiguro states.

“Yeah, that’s pretty nasty. Sukuna just licked her hand. He doesn’t even know where your hand has been and he’s licking it like that,” add Nobara.

“I’ll lick much more if this brat let’s me out.”

Before Yuji could say anything, you shove the last slice of pizza into Sukuna’s mouth.

“Eat it and weep you horny ass curse.”

“Hey that was my slice,” whined Itadori.

“You still got it, didn’t you?” You bite back.

“I’m truly sorry y/n. He gets a little excited when you’re around.”

“That’s a little worrisome, but I trust you itadori.” You couldn’t really blame the poor guy. It wasn’t his fault that a old ass curse decided to taunt you consistently. Now, it was time to do some taunting of your own. If Sukuna wanted petty, he’d get petty. 

“First my ass, now hand. My, my, does Sukuna have a little crush?” You tease the spirit.

“Don’t tease him! That’s not a good idea.”

“Oh come on Fushiguro! What’s the worse that could happen?” Nobara adds.

Sukuna does not reply. Even after all the teasing and berating you and Nobara do. The conversation moves on and gets interrupted by Todo who ends up chasing Itadori off.

Later that night, Sukuna’s thinking about how you and the red haired brat berated him today.

He gets mad but calms down when he recollects on how adorable you looked. The smile on your face. The sparkle in your eye.

He grins maliciously and licks his lips in an attempt savor your taste.

He must have you, he thinks.

And have you he will.