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jeonggukookies · 8 months

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too young | eight

summary: jungkook proves to everyone that he cares about you and his daughter, jules the most.

word count: 3,083

genre: parent!au, single dad!jungkook fluff

one || two || three || four || five || six || seven || eight

“Do you know what time Jungkook is getting here?” Jules asked, sitting down on one of the office chairs. Without any hesitation, she undid her braid quickly and started messing up her hair. “Or is someone else supposed to take me?”

“Didn’t lunch just start for you?” You looked at the clock behind you, the long black minute hand just reaching the same place as the short hour mark. “I’m sure he will be here soon.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot,” she mumbled under her breath.

“He’s coming,” you assured Jules. “Be patient.”

“But are you sure he’s coming?” Unlike the first time you met Jules, she looked at you with a look of confusion on her face. She was clenching the white straps of her purple backpack as if she was afraid to lose the bag. Jules had been in your office for at least five minutes, asking every thirty seconds to ask if her guardian was here. “What if he forgot, again?”

“He didn’t forget.” It used to be normal for Jungkook to be late whether that be ten minutes or an hour and a half. You remember how nonchalant and unimpressed Jules used to be when you told her one of her uncles was on her way instead of her guardian. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“Because I want this stupid thing off now!” She gestured to the black ankle brace. It had been a month since the hospital visit and Jules had been counting the days she could go back on the field to play soccer. She reached to take one of the velcro straps off on her brace. “Do you know how annoying this has been?”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “You know you aren’t allowed to take it off before your appointment. The doctor needs to make sure it has healed correctly and everything. Then, the doctor will take it off for you.”

“By the time he gets here, the doctor’s office will be closed until next year,” she pouted, placing her hands back onto the backpack straps. “Why can’t Uncle Tae get me? Why can’t you take me to the doctor?”

“Because I’m at school,” you deadpanned. “And I want to be here.”

“I do too. You can just take me,” she whined.

“No, I can’t.” You couldn’t help to roll your eyes. "Because Jungkook is coming.”

“Yeah, right.” Jules threw back her head in frustration and groaned loudly. “Then where is he?”

“Right behind you,” Jungkook said, appearing with a smile on his face. “Are you ready, Kiddo?”

Without saying a word, Jules got up on her two feet and rolled her eyes. Still holding onto the straps of her bag tightly, she first looked out of the office, staring at the kids in the cafeteria as if she were searching for someone specific. She then in a haste left the office, stomping her feet on the ground, making her footsteps heard through the entire building.

“This is the first time I’ve seen her with an attitude.” You and Jungkook both looked at each other, realizing you guys both said the same thing at the same time.

“Did something happen between you guys this morning?” You asked. “Was she like this before school?”

“She seemed fine this morning when I dropped her off at school,” he replied, crunching his eyebrows together. “She was super excited for her appointment today, so maybe her excitement just turned into anger...Right? Kids and their emotions these days.”

But even before, on the days when Jungkook told Jules that he would pick her up and he still didn’t show, Jules never showed any sign of any anger or displeasure. She stayed patient, understanding that even if Jungkook didn’t come, she would always see him at home.

“Why did she think you weren’t going to show up though?”

Before he could say anything, Jungkook’s phone started going off, ringing so loudly that he jumped a bit. He reached into his right beige trenchcoat pocket and pulled out his phone, showing you the screen: Jules was calling.

“Did she say anything to you earlier?” He asked.

“Just that she wanted her brace off,” you confirmed his suspicions. “Maybe it’s nothing, and we’re just thinking too hard about it.”

_________

It was not nothing.

It was definitely something.

Something was off.

Ever since her doctor’s appointment, Jules has tried to convince Jungkook that she was sick and could not go to school. He allowed it for the first day and the second day, but when she asked for a third and then a fourth, he started to think something was going on. Every time Jungkook asked about school, Jules stayed quiet, saying nothing, yet it was louder than what could have been said. During the last week you had seen her, she would always change the subject whenever school was brought up and would ask you to convince Jungkook to not let her go.

“Have you heard anything from school? Teachers? Students?” Jungkook asked over the phone. It had been a week since she got her brace off, and he was worried. He had kept calling you every day during this time always to ask if you had heard anything about Jules and her change in behavior. “Why doesn’t she want to go to school?”

“Jungkook, no kid really wants to go to school,” you guessed, scratching the back of your neck. “She’s a kid. Maybe, the only thing on her mind is soccer and she wasn’t able to do that for a while.”

“Yeah but Jules never had a problem in school and always enjoyed learning,” he replied. “I just don’t get why she’s avoiding school like it's the plague.”

Sighing, you think about the last time Jules had been in your office and how she was so agitated, maybe even apprehensive about whether or not Jungkook was going to arrive and take her to her appointment. “Well, the last time she was in my office, she told me she had wanted to be at school.”

“Really?”

You winced. “I mean, I said that I couldn’t take her to the appointment because I wanted to stay at school, and she agreed before asking if you were going to pick her up?”

“Wait, she asked you that?” Jungkook was taken aback, sounding like he was offended by what you said. “Why would she think that?”

“Have you been picking her up?” You questioned. “The boys haven’t been picking her up?

“I have been picking her up from school every day,” he answered back. “I haven’t been really late either. But you know how it is with every parent wanting to pick up their kid. The line is so long so I am always going to be the last one there just because I can’t get out of work earlier.”

“Really?” Usually five minutes after class ends, Jules would always come to your office and make herself at home. “I thought you'd been picking her up earlier because she hasn’t come by to my office to see me this week or last week at all.”

“Not even for lunch?” He asked.

“Nope.”

“Are we just being pushy?” Despite not having a face-to-face conversation, you could tell Jungkook was disheartened, thinking what he could have done wrong to upset Jules, for her to act this way. “Maybe she wanted to do something different.”

“That can be true,” you reluctantly answered, releasing a slow sigh. “But let’s think about it, Kook. She’s never lied to you before, especially about this kind of stuff.”

“And she tells you everything too.” His voice trails off into silence. “Does she usually have lunch with you today?”

You answered, “On Fridays at 12 usually.”

“But it’s 1:45,” he replied slowly. “Did she not eat today?”

Your head snapped to the clock hanging on the wall. The time was indeed past the time you usually saw Jules. “I must have lost track of the time. But I had been in my office all day, so I don’t know why she didn’t come in. She comes sometimes and eats in silence if she sees me working.”

“Something is wrong.”

“Hey, I gotta go.” A staff member from the fifth-grade department had knocked on your door. She was hired around the same time you were, letting the two of you quickly bond over a new school environment earlier in the school year. “I’ll see you later for dinner tonight.”

“Hey, Y/N. I think you should look at this.” The staff member took a pause, looking frightened. “It’s…about Jules.”

“Jules? Is she okay?” You asked with urgency. “Jules as in Seo Jules?”

She nodded and gestured for you to follow her into the fifth-grade wing. Taking a left, the two of you entered the bathroom. Without saying a word, she pointed to the middle stall.

Giving her a look of confusion, she pointed down, making you look. There in the stall, you could see a small girl sitting on the toilet, not using the bathroom, and had her legs stretched in front of her, so her feet wouldn’t be shown on the ground. You could recognize those shoes from anywhere: the light-up tennis shoes that Jin bought for Jules that she loved to brag about.

“What is she doing here?” You whispered. “Are you sure it's Seo Jules?”

Jules was 7 and her classroom was on the other side of the building, opposite the fifth-grade wing. At this time, you knew she should have been in class, learning how to spell words, long words that she didn’t know how even to pronounce.

“Hey Jules? Are you feeling okay?” Your colleague called out.

“Um..Yeah.” You heard Jules's voice come through the stall. “Is school almost over?”

“Yeah, do you want to open the door for me?”

Getting off the toilet seat, Jules unlocked the handle and opened the door. She didn’t expect to see you standing there in front of her. She was wearing an oversized grey hoodie that you’ve never seen her wear and some fake black glasses, way too big for her round small face. Avoiding making any eye contact with you, she looked down. “Are you going to tell Jungkook?”

You looked at your colleague, and she understood that it was her cue to leave the two of you alone to have a private conversation. “Do you want me to?”

“Obviously not,” she mumbled under her breath, still staring down at the ground. “I forgot to do my homework, Miss. I didn’t want to get in trouble in front of everyone.”

“Is there something wrong, Jules?” You asked with concern in your voice. “Is that really the reason why?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly. “Please don’t tell Jungkook this time.”

________

“Seo Jules, please come to the front office,” you announced to the microphone of the PA system.

When it happens a second time, you immediately call Jungkook.

The sounds of ringing phones and tapping keyboards filled the air, but Jungkook’s mind was elsewhere. He was sitting in front of your desk, violently shaking his leg with the look of concern on his face. “Is Jules hurt?”

“Jungkook, Jules was found in the library, hiding by the bookshelves during most of her classes today and she was just found there becaus she hadn’t showed up to soccer practice since she got her brace off.”

“What?” He asked in disbelief.

“Hey,” Jules called out as she stood by the door. “Why are you here?”

Jungkook took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool after hearing Jules ask that question. He didn’t want Jules to ever be scare to tell him the truth, and he didn’t want Jules to ever lie to him about something as important as this. “Do you want to tell me why the school informed me that you were hiding in the library? How you haven’t been attending some certain classes?”

“You told him?” Jules dropped her shoulders, feeling betrayed. “Why would you do that?”

“We need to address the issue going on here,” Jungkook said, his tone disapproving.

“There’s no issue,” Jules protested. “I just got a little lost. It happens sometimes.”

“Jules, you were found around the bean bags, reading books,” He pointed out. “I don’t think you were lost. And this isn’t the first time this has happened and I’m only now being aware of it. What if you were really lost? What if the school couldn’t find you? What if I couldn’t find you?”

“It’s not like that!” Jules sighed, looking down. “You won’t lose me.”

“Sweetheart, we know you haven’t been going to soccer practice either,” you said. Jules’s head shot up to look at you. “If there’s something wrong, you need to tell us now.”

Jules sighed, fidgeting with her fingers. “Everyone says I get special treatment because Jungkook is dating my principal.”

Jungkook’s heart sank along with yours. “What is wrong with that?”

“Nothing.” She paused before continuing. “I don’t know. They just think the teachers favor me over them because of Y/N and how we have money to pay them to like me. They just wouldn’t stop, so I just stopped…I rather be by myself than be with mean people.”

Although the most recent break up with Jungkook didn’t make you cry, the realization that Jules was facing remarks at school due to your relationship with Jungkook did. You remember telling Jungkook from the beginning that you strived to create a safe environment for all students, wanting to shape their growth and education. You never wanted them to feel alone like you did while growing up. Jules felt alone.

You had been aware of the potential challenges that could arise from dating a parent of a student but witnessing the treatment and suffering Jules was facing made you reconsider all your choices.

“It’s not your fault,” Jules reassured quickly, reading the expression on your face. “I love you two. I just..it’s just hard right now. I lost soccer for a bit and now I feel like I have nothing.”

“Sweetheart, you know you always have us and your family,” Jungkook reminded her. “Why didn’t you want to tell me? Or Y/N?”

“Because I don’t want you guys to be sad again. I don’t want Y/N to leave,” Jules answered, tears forming in her eyes.

As a reflex, Jungkook picked up Jules and wrapped his arms around her, making Jules feel like she was safe from everything else in the world.

“You can cry,” Jungkook whispered.

And Jules started bawling. “I just want to be unnoticed so I change my hair and clothes. And try not to come in here.”

“It’s okay.”

“And they keep talking about how young you are! ‘Wow he is too young to be a parent. He don’t know what to do.’” She wept. “Like shut up!”

_________

While Jungkook was putting Jules to bed, you couldn’t help but wrestle with the responsibility you played in Jules’s suffering the last few months by breaking up with Jungkook, leaving her, and now, not knowing she was being bullied at school.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Jungkook asked loudly, interrupting your thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

He laughed. “For what?”

“That I did this.”

“Stop.” He sighed, running his hair through his hair. “You supported Jules and countless other students! This is not your fault…Just an unanticipated consequence that can be solved.”

“Are we breaking up again?” You asked seriously, not meeting his eyes. “I never wanted this to happen to a student, let alone Jules.”

“Hey, listen to me.” He nudged at your side with his elbow, making you look at him. “The biggest thing I’ve learned from you is that we cannot control how others react, but how we react. Like you never really yelled at me for not picking up Jules. You were accepting and understanding because you knew there was more to learn.”

You nodded, appreciating Jungkook’s words. “But the last thing I want is for her to suffer.”

Still staring back at you, he reached to grab your hand. “Breaking up isn’t going to solve that, you know?”

“Yeah, but-” Jungkook cuts you off.

“Hey, you believed in me as a parent and as a person even when I was too young and too busy with a career,” Jungkook said, choosing his words carefully. “Our relationship has made me better. It has made Jules so happy since the accident. We were alone without you, struggling. And now with you, we have so much love and support.”

You smiled, squeezing Jungkook’s hand. “You gave me so much as well.”

His grip on your hand tightened. “Do you think I’m still ‘too young’ and ‘too dumb’ to be there for Jules and you?”

“Of course not!”

“Personal matters should not affect the well-being of children under their care, and you helped me realize that as a parent,” he said. “You don’t have to give anything up. You don’t have to give up your dream of maintaining a safe environment for kids, and you don’t have to give up on us. Take the risk.”

You’re reminded of your past conversation with Jungkook, still smiling from all that the two of you have learned and experienced. “I am going to talk to the school community about this.”

“I know you are,” Jungkook said. “I love you. I love Jules and we will get this together, one step and one day at a time.”

And when it was the next day, there was Jungkook, balloons in his right hand, leaning his back against his blue minivan in the parking lot, waiting for his child to come out of elementary school. He was hours early, shocking all the parents and teachers. They all wondered what he was doing.

When it was time for lunch, Jules came into your office, and the both of you looked outside the window and saw Jungkook, talking to himself. “Do you know what he is saying?”

“He isn’t saying anything.” She laughed. “He’s singing our favorite song. I just know it.”

He was right, that everything was a process that took day by day, and he was going to start by not letting Jules wait for him ever again.

_____

the end! thank you for reading <3 (i am terribly sorry for the long wait).

hopefully one day i can rewrite this story and make it into something way better. so crazy to think i started this years ago. i miss bts and can’t wait for them to come back home <3 the best is yet to come :)

#bangtanwriters-net #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook scenarios #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #too young

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dystopicjumpsuit · 4 months

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Too Early

A/N: This is entirely the fault of @smw-on-kamino. We were chatting about Crosshair’s cuddling style (my personal HC: he’s very undemonstrative in public, but in private, he’s like Velcro), which led, inevitably, to thots.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (Fem, has hair and smaller hands than Crosshair)

Rating: M (mature contented intended for adult audiences; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings and tags: fluff; SMUT; sleepy morning sex; fingering; nipple play; PIV; creampie; biting; no kissing on the mouth bc morning breath is a deadly thing, yo.

Summary: It's just smut. Soft, grumpy, morning smut. In the kitchen. Like you do.

Suggested Listening:

This fic smells like: ISO Gamma Super by Ellis Brooklyn (soft woods, crisp sheets, skin musk)

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Your eyes adjusted slowly to the soft light that filtered through the curtains. Outside the open window, the only sounds you could hear were the quiet rustle of wind in the leaves, the distant crash of waves on the beach, and the chattering of countless moon-yos as they frolicked through Pabu.

It was early.

Too early to wake up on a Benduday, you thought.

You rolled over as silently as possible, trying not to disturb your bedmate: a task not easily accomplished, considering his tendency to sprawl across the entire bed, draping his long limbs over you like a blanket. A tiny smile tugged at the corner your lips as you watched him sleep, your gaze drifting over him in the dim light, taking in the contrast of the crisp white linens against his warm, brown skin. His silver curls were tousled and wild, and judging by the rumpled bedding tangled around him, he must have had another restless night.

The temptation to kiss him awake was almost overwhelming, but you didn’t want to rouse him now that he was finally getting some sleep, so after admiring him for a few moments, you slipped out of bed, pulled on some pajamas, and crept out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind you.

Far too early to wake up on a Benduday, you thought again as you ground your palms into your eyes, then headed to the kitchen. You began to assemble the makings for caf and immediately realized you’d need to grind fresh beans. Maybe he won’t hear it? From my lips to the Maker’s ears, I suppose.

You winced at the obnoxious grating of the caf grinder, but mercifully, it was over quickly, and you thought perhaps you’d managed it without disturbing him. The water heated at last, and as you poured it into the caf press, you heard a soft footfall behind you, and then he slid his arms around you from behind. He grumbled quietly, burying his face in your hair.

A smile crinkled the corners of your eyes as you leaned back against him, resting your hands on top of his. You should have known better than to try to escape your bed without paying the cuddle tax. Crosshair liked his routine, and that routine began every day with holding you.

“Good morning,” you murmured as he continued to nuzzle your hair and neck.

“Mm,” he grumbled again, apparently not yet capable of forming words.

He pulled you tighter against his lean body, and his hands began to wander over you, tracing down to your hips, up your belly, between your breasts to caress the side of your throat, and back down again. The nuzzles turned to kisses, and he worked his way down from your hair, to your ear, down your neck, and across your shoulder, slipping the strap of your top off your shoulder and out of the way.

“That feels nice,” you whispered, closing your eyes and tilting your head back to rest against his shoulder.

His only reply was a soft growl as his left hand teased beneath the waistband of your pajamas and his right hand slid beneath your top to cup your breast and brush his thumb over your nipple. As his fingertips grazed over your clit and dipped into your pussy to find you already heated and slick with desire, he inhaled sharply. You felt the heat of his lips and tongue on the nape of your neck, the soft graze of his teeth on your skin sending shivers through your body and making your nipples harden against his palm.

He sank his finger into you and pulled your body more firmly against himself so you could feel the hard length of his cock grinding against your ass. A tiny moan escaped your throat as his long, lovely fingers played with your cunt, sliding languidly into your body again and again as he worked you open with a patience and skill that made you wonder just how long he’d actually been awake.

His breath was rough and warm against your skin; his kisses roamed over you, tasting and savoring with thorough and unhurried attention to detail. Your hands drifted back to slide up his thighs, and you eased his pajama pants down his narrow hips and wrapped your fingers loosely around his cock. He thrust subtly into your hand with a soft groan, and his hand on your breast tightened for a moment, then slid down your waist. A quick tug, and your pajamas slipped down to puddle around your ankles.

He traced his hand up your body to your shoulder, then down your arm, until he reached the hand you had wrapped around him. His hand closed around yours, and he guided you over his length with a slow, strong grip. He sighed quietly with pleasure, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he worked himself with your hand. You shuddered quietly, biting your lip at the thought of him using your hand like a toy, or an extension of himself, as his strong fingers wrapped around your much smaller hand. You could feel him growing harder, and his cock grazed against your ass, leaving a bead of thick precum on your skin.

“Please,” you whispered. “I need you.”

“Mhm.” The warmth of his breath ghosted on your back as he let out a quiet, lustful sound that sent chills racing across your skin.

He pulled your hand away from his cock and lifted it to his face, pressing his lips against your wrist, then guiding it to brace against the countertop. His fingers slid out of you, his knee nudged your thighs apart, and he leaned you forward just enough to slide his cock into your slick, desperate cunt. You gasped, pressing your ass back against him to welcome him fully into your body.

“Fuck—” he grunted against your shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around you again and hauled you upright against his body. He cupped your breasts in both hands, massaging and rolling your nipples between his fingers as he thrust deeper into you, over and over, each movement pushing the breath from your lungs and drawing soft whimpers and moans from your lips.

“I need more—” you whispered.

His teeth sank lightly into your neck, and he slid his hand from your breast down your belly, pressing his palm flat against you as his fingers circled just over your clit, working insistently as he continued to thrust into you. Pleasure shot through you, and you felt the tension begin to build in your body.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbled, kissing your ear. “Pretty fuckin’ girl.”

“Oh—” The sound tore raggedly from you, and his hips stuttered as he heard the note of desperation in your voice.

“Gonna come for me?”

You nodded, your eyes glazed and unfocused with arousal. “Yes, I’m close—FUCK!”

Your orgasm slammed into you, and your vision exploded into a thousand stars. When your body convulsed against him and your legs gave out, his arms tightened around you, holding you securely upright. With a few final, hard thrusts, he followed close behind you, grunting loudly as the hot spurt of his cum flooded deep inside your body.

He slumped forward abruptly, catching himself against the countertop so he didn’t crush you. His body was warm and heavy against your back as he leaned on you, pressing kisses to your neck and hair.

“Morning,” he mumbled.

You let out a quiet laugh and turned to kiss his cheek. “I think the caf’s gone cold.”

“Mm,” he grunted. “Too early for caf. Let’s go back to bed.”

---

Want more Crosshair? Here’s some hurt comfort and some fluff.

Taglist:

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@anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

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#crosshair x reader #crosshair bad batch #crosshair #the bad batch #star wars #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

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erenoir · 1 year

Text

𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

💿 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚏𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚣𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛

genre: single father!toji, slow burn, angst then fluff, nsfw, MDNI

warnings: 18+ dark content, alcoholism, breeding kink, daddy/mommy titles used, unprotected sex, oral sex, verbal fighting, discussions of abandonment, initial toxic relationship, light gun use.

featuring: toji x fem step-mom!reader

summary: you and toji had met each other at your worst, twin flames fueling each other’s bad habits. you spent weeks upon weeks as on-and-off fuck buddies, manipulating and using each other before throwing one another to the curb again. nothing could save the turbulent relationship of a touch-deprived woman and a man afraid of love, never daring to wave your white flags to one another… until the night toji dropped a bomb that would make or break the two of you forever. | find it on ao3: [☆]

word count: 14.9k

a/n: tell jesus that the bitch is back- i’m kidding! no but really, its been a long year (or more?) of me being away from this blog. i haven't done this in a while, but i have too many delusions and thoughts to not make them into stories, i missed writing too much. anyways, if you like this: reblog, comment, check out my other stuff, etc! luv u xx send toji thirsts in honor of szn 2

“Okay now Megs, daddy and I will be back tomorrow morning, okay?”

Your knees pressed into the cold floor as your fingers tangled themselves in your stepson’s wild, raven locks. The little boy stuck his bottom lip out in protest, your heart swelling at the sight of it. Your thumb met his velvety skin as you stopped a tear from rolling any further down his rouged cheek.

“I don’t want you and daddy to go!” He wailed, a tiny voice strained with big emotions. The glum boy ran into your open arms, clinging to you like velcro. The creamy silk of your blazer swept across the nape of his neck as you enveloped him into a cozy embrace.

“Oh Megumi, you’ll be alright! Your father and I will just be away for the night. Then tomorrow… I can make you all the pancakes in the world for dinner!” His eyebrows knit together and his rosy nose scrunched up as you shook his face in your hands. Little Megumi's messy, toothless grin punctured your heart so deeply. You adored the boy endlessly, even if he wasn’t your son by blood, a connection so spirited manifested itself between the two of you.

“Really mommy?! Do you really mean all of the pancakes in the world?” You let a gentle fingertip feather itself across the tip of Megumi’s nose as you rose to your feet to ruffle the boy’s hair, “Of course I mean it baby! Daddy will do whatever it takes to get you every last drop of pancake batter in the whole, wide, world… isn’t that right, honey?”

You shifted your weight to your left foot to get a good look at Toji, Megumi’s father. He planted himself in his usual crushed velvet armchair that rested in front of the fireplace, thighs sprawled out across the plush cushion. His cheek sunk into the palm of his hand as he ogled at his precious family.

All mine, Toji thought, all fucking mine.

The brooding man sauntered up to you two with ardency, his husky arms snaking around your waist, pulling your backside into his chest and placing a wet kiss to the crook of your neck. Toji rested his hand atop of Megumi’s hair, nearly drowning your little one’s head with its size. You gazed on dotingly as your lover’s biceps contracted when he picked up your son, cooing him into a comfortable silence. The fireplace illuminated the quaint living space an intimate shade of orange, fractals of light bouncing off of the most hidden corners of the room. The shadow of your lover danced across the walls as he rocked the raven-haired child to sleep. You massaged red fingernails into his burly shoulders, feeling the fabric of his black t-shirt ripple between your fingertips.

“We’re so lucky, aren’t we?” You purred into Toji’s neck as you two caressed the light of your lives, sound asleep in his arms. Toji peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of you, watching your maternal instincts consume your body as you outstretched your soft hands to the boy. Something within Toji burst in that moment, seeing his lover care for his child as if he were her own.

“Let me take him to bed, my love.” Dark eyes trailed your steps attentively, watching your hips sway as you cradled his son in your nimble arms, your tender hand nurturing the back of his head, holding it tightly to your chest. His pupils dilated when you started whispering lullabies into Megumi’s ear. A series of “Mommy loves you,” and “I’ve got you my baby,” made Toji’s jaw clench and every part of him swell with adoration.

—

You once arrived in Toji’s life as a fiery little creature. Wild, uncaring, and foaming at the mouth for attention. He didn’t see you as anything other than a friend with benefits. It was a fair exchange, Toji satiated your need for unhealthy attention as a girl disowned by her distant parents, and you satiated his need for a little rag doll as a hitman with a severe lack of emotional intelligence. He needed a woman that would do most anything to please him and receive the gratification she so desperately craved in return. Room 4C, that was the room you two would run away to every weekend.

It was a malignant relationship you had, you were unabashedly toxic to one another. Toji would show up drunk on most occasions, and you would allow him to do whatever he wanted to your feeble little body and enjoy every second of it. You would fight just to see who could scream louder, until the misty light from the sun rising sliced through the cracks of the thick curtains. The old motel would’ve kicked you two out if it weren’t for how much business you brought them. Your eyes stung with crazed tears, both of pleasure and pain, and Toji was the one that induced them every time. Every smack to the cheek was met with a tender kiss, and every “I hate you,” was met with a chorus of apologies. You loved each other in wicked ways, but you loved each other nonetheless. You pushed as Toji pulled, never could either of you find a moment of peace to let your fragile emotions rest.

That was until one night where you asked Toji to meet you in your usual room, at your usual time, 8 p.m. Only that night had you two finally waved your white flags and extinguished your venomous behavior to one another.

—

Your toes were painted a wine red as they ran through the fuzzy carpet below you, feet swinging over the twin-sized motel bed. Rain rushed the windows with fervor, the storm warning you had received this morning not clicking in your brain until that very moment. The muffled voices of the news anchors suffocated your eardrums as they grew louder. The silence in the room was painstaking and you didn’t know how much longer you could last solely listening to the rhythmic drips of the leaking bathroom sink. Your eyelids began to droop as the neon leds of the plastic alarm clock flicked from 8:59 to 9:00. The stiff sheets felt like royal silk at that moment, sleep threatening to consume your body. The room around you shut on and off, eyelids blinking slowly, and your mouth dipping into the slightest “o” shape. the cotton of your t-shirt rode up your thighs as you slid yourself under the covers. Toji isn’t coming tonight, truthfully, the thought grazed your mind when it had only been ten minutes after 8, Toji was never any more tardy than that. But as you watched the clock now switch from 9:04 to 9:05, the hint of betrayal that had felt like a pin prick before now felt like you’d just been gutted.

Your body was swallowed in the darkness of the motel room, though you did leave the news on, maybe the late night anchors could keep you company in your lover’s absence. In your dream you saw the dark eyes that taunted you into submission. How pathetic was it to dream about a man who couldn’t care less about you besides what you had underneath your underwear? In your dream you were running, your earthly body was riddled with cold sweats and shivering into oblivion, you heard pounding, it grew rapidly with every step you took, the beat of your heart staying in time, though the pounding felt too real to be fabricated through your imagination alone.

Then your body jolted awake to a vigorous gust of wind, and suddenly the banging became real, and whoever demanded that kind of attention from you at midnight was about to receive a pounding to their face. With your eyes cloudy and vision blurred, you tried to adjust to the dark blue of your surroundings.

“Ah, shit!” The stark yellow light of the bedside lamp blinded you, a shaky hand rested on your forehead to act as a shield to the harsh, artificial rays. The comforter of the rigid bed you laid on grew wet, rainwater dripping from the dark figure that stood above your tired body.

“T-Toji?” You stammered into the abyss, you had no courage to look up and see who had woken you up from your restless slumber. After all, you didn’t want the last thing you saw to be your murderer.

“No, it’s Megumi,” your hand snapped to your side to see from whom such a soft voice was emitted. Above you stood a small boy with porcelain skin and raven hair, he couldn’t have been more than 6 years old.

My god, you thought, he looks just like-

“Toji is my dad, he said to wait in this room while he- while he got m-more of his happy juice… s-so he pushed me through th-that window a-and n-now my knee is bleeding!”

The young boy who tried to remain stoic eventually broke into a fit of relentless tears. He's a child, he’s a- he’s Toji’s… Toji has a child. Your brain went through the motions, trying to ride every wave of the ocean it was thrown into.

Until one of those waves truly hit you- and you realized that there was a fucking child in your room.

And all of the sorrow you felt for the boy had turned into pure, unadulterated rage for his poor excuse of a father.

You peeled yourself from the bed and tripped over the legs of your jeans as you tried to shrug them on while making your way to the door. Your hand stopped at the knob before turning to the kid.

“Fuck… don’t go anywhere, okay kid?” You mumbled as you fished the pack of Marlboro's from the back pocket of your Levi’s and jammed one into your mouth, busting through the door and into the rainy parking lot… search frantically- ferally, for the one person you were dying to see most.

“Where the FUCK are you?! You asshole!” You screamed, voice cracking. “Show your fucking face you… you coward!” You were speechless, running to the middle of the parking lot, and scanning every dark car for someone hiding out- hiding from you. The rain sunk through your tank top, goosebumps pricking your skin, and then next you felt the tears. He was the last person you wanted to cry for, he didn’t deserve it, the fucker would probably enjoy it if you didn’t know him any better.

“Fuck you!” You seethed, bare feet taking you in circles around the flooded lot. “Fuck! You! I hate you!” The tears finally poked through, staining your cheeks with old mascara.

“You always do this shit Toji Fushiguro! I hope you’re fucking dead! You fucking deadbeat father!”

–

After twenty minutes of your parking lot charades, the motel manager had to nearly drag you back to your room- a freezing cold, screaming maniac. The boy- Megumi, was sitting next to you cross-legged on the bed with a patched up knee and an ice cream sandwich from the vending machine three rooms down. He hummed to the tune of the children’s show that played on the television, swaying back and forth in contentment. The fact that you were babysitting the child of the man that you were fuck buddies with amused you as you scoffed to yourself.

“You know… your dad didn’t tell me had a kid,” the little boy’s attention remained fixed on the screen, ignoring you completely while his dark eyes memorized the flashes of color and cartoons in front of him. Hm, he really is Toji’s kid.

“How's your knee, Megs?” Your fingers ran across the pink bandaid you’d stuck over his scrape, making sure the adhesive wasn’t lifting off of his damp skin. Vanilla filling seeped through Megumi’s tiny fingers. Chocolate crumbles littered his plump cheeks as he stuck the final bite of his ice cream sandwich in his mouth, stuffing his cheeks full.

“My knee is fine!” He mumbled through a full mouth, patting his sticky palm over his wound. Your mind toyed with the idea of whether or not now was a good time to mention his father again, but knowing Toji, if you didn’t mention him he wouldn’t even bother coming back. So keeping the boy’s best interest at heart, you casually brought up his father’s name for a second time.

“Megumi… can you tell me where your dad is?” You folded your hands in your lap as you awaited his response. Tears pricked at the boy’s gloomy eyes, a storm just as tumultuous was raging in him as it was outside. Messy palms wiped themselves across his white race car shirt, before they came up to wipe at his face.

“I-I told you… he s-said he was going to get more of his happy juice… he said to wait here with a lady named ___. Th-that’s what he said to do!”

Megumi’s quiet words turned into an erratic tantrum. Tears flooded his eyes as he snorted up a wad of snot, the race car on his shirt slowly starting to drive on wet roads. You were going to kill Toji. You didn’t give a crap about the way he treated you anymore, he had a child who was helpless. And god knows the child was helpless if the person Toji decided to leave him with was you.

The docile boy leaned sweetly into your arms, begging for some form of comfort, it was evident that he’d never received any from his own father before. The sleeves of your sweater moved hesitantly to wrap themselves around Megumi’s shaking body, afraid that if you were to embrace him fully the dam that’s been holding back all of your emotions would suddenly break. It wasn’t your place to nurture this child, it wasn’t your place to offer him another outlet for parental guidance. But as you sat at the edge of the motel bed with the little boy, it felt as if you were sitting at the edge of a cliff, and you could either sink or swim with Megumi’s life in your hands. The moment you felt his frail arms hug you back, the dam fell, and you were in too deep to stop giving a fuck now.

You brought a hand to his wild hair. It stuck up in all directions, he told you earlier that he stole some gel from his dad’s bathroom, and that Toji let him do it however he wanted to. You remember laughing at that, seemingly because it sounded like something Toji would say. Your cheek felt cool against the top of his head, his hair still drying from the torrential storm that brewed just outside the window. Every string inside of you that was holding your emotional state together at the seams had ripped in two as Megumi began to sob more violently than before. His red cheeks moved from right to left across your sweater, wiping snot, drool and tears all over you. With thoughts clouded and the slightest knowledge of how to take care of a child flying out the window, you began to panic. Toji had left his offspring, his flesh and blood, with you, his emotionally corrupted, immature, and attention deprived fuck buddy.

Why?

With tender hands you tuck the covers under Megumi’s petite body. Your heart crumbled completely when you saw how the tears dried on Megumi’s cheeks, how his breathing was congested with mucus, and how his swollen eyes twitched in his sleep. He was having a nightmare. The bed dipped in as you sat beside him and ran fragile fingers over his forehead, sweeping his long hair out of his eyes. For the first time that night you let tears fall from your eyes, as you gazed at the broken child with an instinct to care for him, to help him grow, if Toji wasn’t going to be there to do it. You watched as Megumi’s body relaxed under your touch, his breathing smooth, and his eyebrows drooping. A small smile formed on your face, it was time to fake happiness for this boy, if it meant that he would be okay.

“He’s a g-good kid r-ight?” Your head snapped up as Toji’s overbearing body stumbled through the window, his hand desperately grasping for some kind of support from the wall. God, you really needed to lock that fucking window or god knows what other Fushiguro would trip through it.

An animosity so intense boiled within you, clawing at your stomach, dying to be taken out on the drunken man stood in front of you. The tears returned to your eyes, his silhouette doubled as your vision blurred.

“D-don’t you fucking come near me you asshole,” you whispered, there were no words in the world that could’ve described how badly you wanted to scream at Toji until his eardrums popped. Alas you couldn’t… you couldn’t let Megumi see his father like this.

“Exc-use me but I'd l-like to see my-my son,” words slurred out of his wet lips, a line of saliva falling out of the corner of his mouth.

“Toji… don’t even think for a second I’d let you near him,” your delicate hands pushed against his steel chest, helplessly punching into him to stop him in his tracks. His strong hands wrapped themselves around your wrists tightly as he looked you in the eyes with an intoxicated heat.

“Toji… why? Why wouldn’t you tell me you had a fucking child? Is this who you ran away from every weekend we spent together?” Your hand shakily pointed to little Megumi’s sleeping body, “Do you understand how fucked up that makes me feel? How fucked up that makes you? God! I knew you were a piece of shit but Toji… this is rich, this is- this is the icing on the fucking cake… you disgust me!” You whispered as Toji’s hands repositioned themselves to cup your cheeks, his calloused thumbs coming to wipe the lines of mascara running down your face. Although blank and empty, his stare alone spoke a thousand words.

It told you that he was broken, that he was filled to the brink with regret, that he hated- no, absolutely loathed himself. Toji knew he was a piece of shit, he knew he was wrong for hiding his son from you, and he knew he was wrong for hiding you from his son. He had lasted long enough pushing everything under a compact rug until it couldn’t hold much more, and now every fucked up thing in his life was catching up to him, and you were watching it happen right in this depressing, wet, and cramped motel room.

“I-I didn’t know wh-where else to bring him, I-I mean look at me I can’t be with him right now…” Toji fell to his knees and gripped your calves with his hands, crying into the damp denim of your jeans. You stood stiff, frozen in place and in disbelief at what was happening. The brazen man that you knew so well, that dripped with confidence, with ego, with a sense of security, had shattered completely. Toji’s back muscles contracted as he dry heaved onto the floor, the contents of his stomach just missing your feet. He looked up at you with an empty expression. Snot was dripping out of his nose, his jaw was trembling and his face was littered with tears and red splotches.

“Toji-” You reached for him.

“No… please hear m- me out…”

“I'll listen to you… outside…” You fired, “I’m not- I refuse to do this here when your son is sleeping right there!” You hoisted his body up off the floor as the two of you staggered into the storm. He leaned his body up against the door to 4C as you closed it, boring holes into your head, desperate for you to say anything. You wrapped your sweater around you tighter as rain propelled towards your shivering bodies. You two must have looked mad… drenched, drunken and depressed, in the middle of a storm, enveloped in darkness, hugging yourselves as if that would be of any help. Only the light of the moon and from the other motel rooms made it possible for you to see Toji’s face. The sounds of his rabid sobs mixed with the intensity of the rain pelting the ground, the freezing winds icing over his face sobered him up a bit. Toji began speaking as you looked down at your bare feet once again being swallowed by the wet pavement.

“I don’t trust anyone else,” Toji burns a hole into the parking lot with his stare, watching it flood slowly, he didn't have the guts to look at you, not yet. The single traffic light across the street whipped back and forth in the wind, streaks of light painting the foggy air. You leaned up against the door next to Toji, your tiny body being engulfed by his large, shaking one.

“…I didn’t trust a-anyone else w-with Megumi, I’m a threat to my own fucking kid, can you believe that?” You thought about it for a second, and you could completely believe it, the fact that Toji hid his son from you for this long should’ve spoken for itself. Your somber silhouettes shivered against the outside of the motel, both of your minds racing to deliberate how you would work yourselves through this mess. You almost wanted to laugh, the last people on this earth you would expect to be parents were you and Toji. With the breath kicked out of you, you slid down to the pavement and let yourself hit the ground. You hugged your knees with your shuddering hands and watched the cars slowly maneuver their way around the dimly lit parking lot. Toji’s hand navigates its way to the top of your head and smooths his fingers over your hair.

“Toji… I just have so many questions-”

“So ask them,” for once you looked at him with soft eyes, his voice trembled every time he spoke, you could try to fill the shell of a fractured man with love, with empathy, but everything you could possibly give him would just seep through the cracks of his ego.

“…I keep my circles small… so I didn’t have many options of who to leave the kid with… you’re the only person that I’ve allowed myself to get close to…” He ran a hand over his face, his body began to sink down next to you, extending his legs flat to the ground as his pants soaked with rainwater, “and you haven’t rejected me yet so I threw one more thing on you… is that okay?”

Was it okay? Of all the fucked up things you and Toji have done together, you scoffed in disbelief as your hands began to trace circles on the flooding ground beneath you, swirling rainwater in between your fingers.

“…and his mother?” Your voice cracked as your heart sank at what you could only predict his answer would be. Toji's jaw stiffened, grinding it back and forth as he reached for a pack of soggy cigarettes from his back pocket.

“Shit,” he muttered. He rung out the pack of smokes in his strong hold, the damp paper pushing between the cracks of his fingers. You looked at him and he looked straight ahead, watching small ripples form in the puddles of water upon impact from the rain.

“She’s dead… died when he was just born,” your chest weakened at his words, eyes overwhelmed with sorrow. Toji's lips began to tremble as he tried to bite back his tears. He was tired of crying, tired of not being strong anymore, and tired of not being a good father, for that’s the strongest thing a man could ever be.

“…So the kid got stuck with me… he- I don’t deserve him, I don’t deserve to be a father to a kid as good as him…” In his most vulnerable state, you chalked up the courage to take his hand in yours and rub your thumb over his scarlet knuckles. You sat like that for a while, legs sprawled out over the drenched concrete, the ends of your feet grazing each other ever so softly.

“Toji…” your voice came out barely above a whisper, “…don’t say that… Megumi needs you,” Toji’s breath hitched in his chest as he coughed back the urge to cry anymore, “Megumi needs you to get better for him… that kid- he looks up to you so fucking much. He sat next to me for an hour talking about you alone.”

You pulled your knees into your chest and buried them under your sweater to shield your icy legs from the cold. You felt Toji’s blue eyes burn holes into the side of your head, he was desperate for any taste of guidance.

“You’re lying… the kid barely knows me, he”-

“So help him know you! Toji you can’t fucking give up on that kid… and you sure as hell can’t dump him on me and expect me to make up for the years you neglected him! I won’t fucking do it, not without you…” Your screams broke into a whisper.

You wanted Toji. You wanted him a month ago when he was just an asshole without a kid, and you want him now that he’s just an asshole with a kid. You shifted your body to sit closer to his, his silhouette swallowing yours in size as you curled up next to him on the concrete. Resting your head on his shoulder, he inched his hand towards yours to lift your knuckles to his lips and kiss them gently, one by one.

“Toji…” you continued, your eyes not leaving the ground, “I want to be with you, I want to love you- and if Megumi comes with you I’ll love him too… that’s what you’re asking of me, yeah?” You lifted your head to look at him, leaving your faces only inches apart as you gazed into each other’s eyes. Toji nodded his head slowly, he never asked for help, it was a sign of vulnerability. But the kid was the only exception for Toji, he always has been. He'd always absorb everything like a sponge until he physically couldn’t hold any more dirty water, tearing every time he had to ring out all of his baggage.

“You wanna know why you’re an asshole?” You’re probed, finally striking a light on one of his gnarly cigs and blowing the smoke onto his face. The scarred corner of his mouth twitched upward, enough for only you to notice.

“Pray tell, doll.” He chuckled in a husky voice, his calloused hand reaching for the cigarette you held before you smacked it away. He scoffed, “That came from my pack, you know?”

“The least you could do for me is bum me a cig, no?” You jabbed, the burning cherry hanging from your fingers as your hand bounced around with your words.

Silence.

“Well… you’re an asshole Fushiguro…” You continued without any more permission, hesitant to tell him what you wanted to. You feared you’d opened up too much already. Your tongue dragged over your teeth as you worked out your next sentence.

“You-“ You took a long drag, “You are a raging dick, actually. Because-” you paused to look over at him, and surprisingly enough, you had his complete attention. And his eyes weren’t hardened but- soft. And his breathing was less ragged than it was ten minutes ago. You swallowed hard as his eyes dropped to your mouth.

“You know you could hop on the next train out of here with no intention of seeing me again…” You whispered. “And I’d fucking love the shit out of that kid regardless, right?” He smirked at your choice of words, Toji tried hard not to love things, in the end everything he gets close to fades away and dies. But he believed that he loved you, and he loved the way you were prepared to drop everything to nurture the most secret part of his life. All he could do was stare at your face, gentle, warm, and glowing in the rain. Though it felt like the whole world was after him he felt safe next to you, and he despised the feeling, for it meant that he was prepared to give himself to someone for a second time, and he wasn’t ready to lose another.

“And that’s why I left him with you,” he smirked. He winced as you smacked him across the face, your eyes wide and feral.

“Yeah I know, I know that’s why you did it you fuck!” You scream-whispered, still mindful of Megumi just behind the door. “But don’t expect me to be- h-hot shit at this mother thing- I won’t hesitate to throw you under the bus if it means protecting him!”

You were standing now, and you were pacing, and reality was hitting you, and the adrenaline rush you were riding for the past thirty minutes was wearing off and you were scared. Your hand shook as you rose the dwindling cigarette to your lips, your body shaking from both the rain and the kiss of reality. Struggling to inhale from the damp bud, Toji cut off your train of thought.

“I know you won’t, that’s why I left him with you,” he said sternly, his figure now towering over yours. He grabbed his face in your hands, and it was just as much a loving act as it was a ‘I need you to get your head on straight and focus’ act. He pushed your cheeks in and shook your face ever so slightly, “You listen to me- That. Is. Why. I. Left. Him. With. You.”

He spoke roughly, dividing every word with a quick pause so you could get it through your head. He pressed his forehead to yours so you were eye to eye. “Hey,” he brushed some matted hair away from your wet forehead. You knew he saw the tears welling in your eyes, and you wish you could push him away so he could never see you cry again. But you couldn’t, you felt that you loved him far too much to do that. Your shoulders shook as you let them fall, you cursed yourself for letting it happen.

“Fucking listen to me,” Toji jabbed, “I left him with you because you- you don’t fear me. You will throw me under the bus, you’ll push me in front of a fucking train, for that kid,” he actually laughed at the thought, “I know no other person that will hold me accountable- even if it meant my bloody death.”

You shook yourself out of his hold, throwing your burnt out cigarette on the ground between you two, setting an imaginary border so you could think clearly away from him.

“Are you sober enough to hear me out?” You asked quietly but not lacking any ounce of aggression.

“Since you slapped the living shit out of me? I’d say I’m pretty okay,” Toji took one step towards you before you stopped him in his tracks.

“You stay over there and you listen to me,” you growled. You nervously rung out your hands, pulling on every knuckle and joint while you spoke.

“… I hope you don’t… run away.” You paused, “No- actually, you will not run away,” Your words left your mouth like you were prophesying commandments to a lost disciple. “He needs you with him, Toji. He is tired of you disappearing.”

Toji listened to you like your voice was the last thing he’d hear in his life, yet he wanted you to stop talking. The more you spoke the more bound to the tracks he felt, and he had never been bound to anything before, he did as he pleased, always. So Toji prayed you wouldn’t utter another word that would keep him here. He had to leave, if he stayed you would get hurt, that’s how it always went. But with every word that left your mouth you pulled him in and glued him to the ground he stood on.

He let out an exasperated sigh as you wrapped a hand in his hair, using it as leverage to push your foreheads back together. He was speechless, there was so much he could say to you, to convince you to kick him to the curb, but his words were stuck in his throat.

“I am tired of you disappearing,” the ropes that kept his body bound to the tracks drew tighter, and in the distance he saw the headlights of a train inching closer by the second.

“I know you think it’s hopeless, that it’s not even worth trying, but your son having any shot at living a normal life is worth fighting for… Toji, please-”

And then the train struck him, just as promised, this wouldn’t be the last one you pushed him in front of.

Your grip on Toji’s hair loosened as his lips crushed themselves onto yours. He pulled you closer, needed you closer, hugging you into his chest as you caressed the sides of his face with your hands, thumbs rubbing at his scarred cheekbones. You tasted like salvation. Toji knew deep down that you were his salvation.

“I’m not asking you to fix me, I’m way past that- I'm just asking you to be patient… for the kid.” He whispered against your lips, the tears that littered your cheeks dampened his. “I care…” he swallowed his words, “...I care about you- alot.”

“Jesus fuck, did it kill you to say that?” For the first time that night you laughed genuinely, and Toji’s mind was clear. It was carved in stone, he had claimed you and now he’s responsible for your life now, alongside Megumi’s. He raised his hands off your hips as if you were a fragile porcelain doll, too afraid to hurt you now that he’s held you- truly, held you. You looked at him questioningly, already missing the feeling of his skin against yours.

“I don't want you to get hurt… I don’t want Megumi to lose anyone else, he needs something I’m afraid I can’t give to him-”

“Shut up,” your eyebrows furrowed together as you shook his head gently, “Don’t go there… you dumb fuck,” bringing his lips to yours once more, he finally released under your touch, the feeling of you safe and in his arms put his restless thoughts to bed.

“I'm here, Megumi is sleeping soundly inside… we’re gonna be okay. Everything is a fucking mess. Because you did kind of fuck it, but we’ll figure it out,” you insisted, taking his hands in yours and placing them on your heart. Toji dropped his head to the crook of your neck and closed his eyes as the soft thump of your heartbeat grazed against his fingertips.

“Do you feel that? I’m alive you asshole… I’m not dead yet.”

—-

Toji knew you would stick around for a while.

He was right, because here you were, two years later, with Megumi cradled in your arms as you carried him up the winding steps of your Victorian home, placing soft kisses on his forehead and lulling him to sleep. Today was the anniversary of that night at the motel, when you met Megumi for the first time and decided to help Toji care for him even when you were entirely lost yourself. You haven’t been back there since, you three left the next morning on a train and never looked back. You told Toji that if you did it would be bad luck, so he kept moving forward for you and his son, to finally give him a life he deserved. But tonight you two thought it would be nice to visit one more time, on your anniversary, just for old time’s sake.

Toji watched as you tiptoed back down the steps and gave him a gentle thumbs up, signaling that Megumi had finally fallen asleep. Toji wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up into him, peppering kisses all over your blushing face. You placed a sloppy kiss onto his lips before jumping down and giving him a little twirl.

“C’mon baby, let’s go!” You wrapped your hand in his and dragged him to the door. His face relaxed into a content smile, after all this time, his little bird was still as free as ever.

—

Around your neck you donned a good locket that Toji had gotten you for your birthday, it moved up and down against your chest as you took deep breaths standing in front of an old friend. The door to room 4C looked just as you left it, with a few more cracks here and there. Your body shuddered as you looked down at the ground in front of it, still feeling the presence of your younger self clad in a drenched sweater, curled up next to a younger, drunken Toji. A warm smile spread across your face as you remembered how scared you two were, unsure of the world and without a plan, shivering in the pouring rain as you thought about your futures together.

Tonight the sky was clear, the only thing that surrounded you was the sound of cicadas singing. You looked up to your side as you felt Toji’s fingers intertwined with yours, holding onto your hand loosely. He looked down at you and smirked, although you two were much more mature and cared about whether you lost your lives or not for Megumi’s sake, deep down you two would always be the notorious fuck-ups that happened to fit perfectly together.

“Wanna wreck some havoc one last time?” he asked you. You giggled as your hand twirled the brass doorknob, entering the room that you and Toji made love in more times than you could count, the room that you got high in, got drunk in, the room that you fought in, that you threw television remotes at each other in… the room that you eventually fell in love in.

Your fingertips grazed the stiff blankets, the cherry red countertops, the cheap coffee maker, as you took every detail in. Everything was left just the way it was on the night. You let out a chuckle underneath your breath as you sunk your fingers into the mattress, remembering how Megumi’s body slept here soundly as you and Toji decided what the fuck you were to make of yourselves just outside.

“I'm glad you pushed Megumi in here that night…” you whispered as you lifted the blanket up, they could never remove the stain of his chocolate ice cream sandwich from the white sheets. Toji watched as you reminisced, taking in every inch of you, before your eyes finally met as you dragged your gaze across the tacky flower paintings that decorated the walls. Your eyes rested on his face as you drank the sight of him in. Toji was happy, he was at peace with what his life had turned out to be.

“The way it all happened was absolutely fucking ridiculous I hope you know that…” You rolled your eyes at him as he crossed his arms and leaned up against the kitschy wallpaper. “...but I wouldn't change a thing, it happened the way it did for a reason.”

He watched as your hips swayed back and forth underneath your black slip dress, his heartbeat speeding up as you draped your arms around his neck and leaned him further back into the wall. Toji, the hardened man that could effortlessly punch through anything that looked at him the wrong way, softened immediately when he was with you. You were his biggest source of strength, but his ultimate weakness nonetheless.

“Hold me, Toji,” you whispered as you brought your lips to his, feeling his brute arms tie themselves around your tiny waist, “…I love you baby,” you murmured as your lips moved against his.

“Thank you,” Toji had spoken for the first time since you two entered the room, too enamored with you to form any coherent words until this point. He watched as the orange light from the bedside table illuminated the back of your head, the halo of light framed your face like an angel.

“What?” you continued to pepper kisses all over his face, gently alternating back and forth from each cheek as your fingers played with his dark hair.

“For saving me… for loving Megumi… you didn’t have to fucking do that… you could’ve been free but you chose this life,” he pulled you up into him, shoving his face into your neck and taking in your scent. Toji was deathly afraid of losing you, so when he held you, he held you like it was going to be the last time he’d ever get to. You were his second chance at life, and if he could, he’d have you by his side forever.

“And I wouldn’t have chosen any different.” You croaked, your fingernails grazing the back of his neck.

“I wanted you then Toji and I still want you now, heaven and hell would have to meet on this earth to get me to stop loving you…” Your words were barely above a whisper, making sure they were for him and only him. Toji’s lips began to move against your neck and his hand tugged your head back by your hair, giving him more room to mark you.

“Toji, plea-“ You whined breathlessly, eyebrows furrowing together as everything inside you became bubbly and grew more sensitive with every touch.

“Have you ever thought about…” His lips paused against your neck, his grip on you tightening before he let up, “Fuck it, nevermind.” He shut himself down before he could even finish his thought. You nudged his head out from where it was hiding on your shoulder and forced him to look at you. You always found it funny that you held such a threatening man like putty in your hands.

“No… say it, tell me please,” you rested your hands on either side of his face, letting him know it was okay, you gleamed up at him as the flashes of the television reflected in your eyes, his heart swelled at the sight of you. Toji broke his eye contact with you, anxious of how you’d respond to his question. Toji was anxious. And you could feel it. And then his jaw clenched before his grip on you tightened once again, even now he couldn’t let the fortress that he hid inside break.

“Have you ever thought about… having another kid?” His eyes were dark, and a grin almost devious teased the corners of his mouth, and all of a sudden you felt how you did two years ago. And the Toji you fell for was standing there and he was so close to you and you were in his arms. He was teasing you like you were helpless teenagers in love. And though you loved Megumi so deeply- he was safe with the nanny at home… and you and Toji were just you and Toji again. You wanted him as fiercely as you did two years ago, and you wanted him to make love to you the way he did two years ago. Everything had been so gentle since you two were last here, and you watched Toji grow into an amazing father. You understood that he treated you like glass because he didn’t want to lose you like he has everyone else. And he was so good to you. But fuck, he was too good sometimes and you wanted that asshole back.

You pushed yourself into his chest and nudged his face in your direction with your nose, smiling softly as you watched a storm brew in his eyes alone. Your breasts nearly spilled out of the neckline of your dress as you pressed your chest to his. You felt him tense as you licked your way up from his neck to his ear, placing a kiss on the sensitive skin behind it.

“Toji… I think about it everyday,” you whispered, his grip around your waist tightened as he exhaled sharply, as if he was holding himself back.

“Do you think about a boy or girl?” He teased, beginning to trace his fingers on your thighs just below the hem of your dress. Your body instinctually moved into his, your words caught in your throat and your eyes lost in his. Toji smirked down at you, watching the way you curled around his finger so easily.

“Hey,” he snapped, taking your chin in a firm hold, “What did I ask you, princess? Stay with me.”

His other hand that remained just underneath your ass rose a few inches to give it a taught squeeze. He chuckled softly watching you twitch at the sensation. With your chin still in his hand he snapped your face to the left, pressing his nose against your cheek and inhaling deeply, before placing a hard, sloppy kiss to it.

“Tell me.” He pushed your face back so it was an inch away from his, “Do you want me to give you a boy or a girl?”

The stench of lust stained the walls, the carpets, the bedsheets, your clothes… it stuck to everything. This fucking room made the two of you feral. Toji had you melting in his hands and you wanted him to mold you to fit perfectly to him. Your hands traced down to his chest, feeling the muscles that pulled underneath his fitted black shirt. You took handfuls of the fabric into your fists as you smashed your lips to his, and he reciprocated immediately, like he was a robot built to respond to your commands. His hands flew everywhere, feeling every inch of you. They traced your thighs, slipped under your dress and up your spine, they traced the curves of your breasts and trailed up your neck, before stopping at the back of your head, bringing your face impossibly closer to his. He wanted you to mix together like a forbidden cocktail, whiskey and vodka, dark and light, never to be put together but when they are, they can be deadly.

You pushed from his unforgiving hold, to look up at him, the two of you breathing heavily, gasping for air like all that was left in the room was sucked out of it. You stumbled backwards as he watched you quizzically, wondering why the fuck you weren’t glued to him right now. You wanted him to see you, fully. So you stopped walking backwards until your legs hit the end of the bed.

Slowly, your fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, your cheeks heating as Toji smirked and crossed his arms. He watched you with a tilted head and his tongue poking at his cheek, in disbelief that you were his. But his smile dropped when you took hold of your dress and inched it up your soft skin, revealing the lace panties you had been wearing. Then you pushed the silk fabric past your belly button, and Toji could only imagine how that stomach would look big and swollen with his child. You stopped there, and slowly dragged your hands around your stomach, before they rested on top of your womb, your eyes never leaving one another.

“I don’t care about the gender of the baby… as long as it’s our baby and we take care of it together,” you whispered as you fixed your gaze on Toji’s chest, too nervous to look him in the eye. A primitive feeling ignited within him as he witnessed those words leave your mouth. Someone wanted him, not for dirty work, not to be used, but to love him and share a love with him, he never thought himself capable of feeling compassion for another like this in his life. He wanted to claim you in every sense of the word, fill you up, and burn his name onto your heart.

“You wanna give me a baby?” He growled from across the room, his shadows reached you from six feet away and enveloped your body, the vibrato of his voice shooting straight to your core. The idea of Toji marking you permanently made your insides curl, wet at the thought of it. Your eyes filled with lust and need, begging him to take you right here. He lost all of his senses as he looked at you turning into a needy little thing for him, breasts supple and on display as they heaved up and down. He imagined how they'd swell and fill with milk for his child, his gaze shot up to your lips, wet as you bit and licked at them, stains of the dark lip liner you had put on before you left, remaining on your skin like a ghost. Then they shot to your eyes, nearly tearing up with need, need to be touched and his completely. Something in you shifted when his gaze softened and his stance relaxed.

“Fuck… I wanna give you a baby Toji.” You whispered as you felt the first tear roll down your cheek, and within seconds Toji was up against you once more, lips molding to yours and his hands tangled in your hair. The weight and force of him pushed you back as you prepared to hit the bed. You took one of his hands from behind your head and placed it on your stomach, pausing from the kiss to look at him, saying all you needed to tell him with the one stare.

The rubber band inside of him snapped in that moment, he was madly in love with you, and the way you cared for Megumi so tenderly drove him up a wall. Watching you rock him to sleep, cook him breakfast in the morning, dance carelessly around the living room with him in your arms- he wanted to do it all over again with you, and start at the very beginning this time. He nodded frantically and wordlessly as he laid you back on the bed, pulling the heels off your feet as he crawled over you until he’d pushed you to the head of the bed, eyes never leaving yours. His lips met your collar bone, sucking on the skin that peaked beneath the strap of your dress, you wrapped a hand in his hair and pushed him into your chest as you whimpered, desperate for more.

He pulled his lips from your skin, placing a chaste kiss on the fresh bruise he mouthed onto your chest before placing a strong hand on your stomach, the other bringing itself to your head to make you look at him.

“Fuck, princess… tell me what you want again.” He whispered, pushing down on the soft skin of your stomach and tracing circles around your belly button with his thumb. Something about that movement turned you feral, as Toji hit all the right spots within you with his words. You crashed your lips into his as you growled into his throat, staking your claim on him. Toji was yours, and you wanted to make sure he knew it.

“M’hm…” You hummed as you rotate your hips into his thighs, “I wanna have your baby,” Toji squeezed your thighs before he pushed the rest of your dress up above your head, nearly panting as he watching your breasts spill out. He took one nipple into his mouth and the other in his hand, your body arching at the sudden change of pace. He sucked and twirled his tongue around the sensitive bud, the other hard and taught between the rough pads of his fingers. You always loved the way Toji could handle you, he was the only man that was ever able to give you exactly what you needed. It had always been that way, just you and him, becoming experts in each other’s bodies, memorizing every curve and trigger that made one another sing.

He lifted himself up from your breasts so that his face was hovering above yours and your head was trapped between his arms, he looked at you… and for a second you could’ve sworn you saw sadness wash over his face.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you and I'll do it, tonight you have me completely,” Toji whispered, tracing the contours of your face. You hid in his shadows, unsure what to make of that statement. Your breathing was ragged as you searched his face for the cause of the sudden gloom he casted over the bed you two occupied. You reached up to trace the dips of his jaw and cheekbones, back around his head before your fingers lingered over his lips.

“Toji, what’s wrong?” You asked wearily, “Don’t I have you completely every other night we spend together?” His gaze saddened, and this time it definitely had. You grew incredibly nervous, because despite the fact that you had Toji for two years… deep, deep down, you knew that he was a force that couldn’t be tamed.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. He laid his body weight on top of you, caging you into him as if to protect you from an impending doom.

“And because I can’t lose you…” Your breath hitched in your throat at his next set of words. You couldn’t let him finish.

“Toji… no.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his back and hugging him into you.

“I’m sorry, I have to.” He shook in your hold, his hand wrapping around the back of your head and pushing it into his neck as you began to sob. You struggled to escape his grasp, you needed to fucking breathe.

“Toji… get the fuck off of me.” You bit through tears, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Let fucking go of me!” You pushed, squirming away when you felt him loosen up. You tripped your way out of the bed and hid yourself in the corner of the room, between the big TV and the bathroom. You sheltered your naked body by crossing your arms over your chest and your sobs became uncontrollable. You burned holes into his back as he knelt on the bed with his hands unfolded in his lap, he stared at them, empty and without you in them.

“I have to leave-“ He began.

“Shut up.” You whispered, begging him to stop.

“It’s the only way you and Megumi will be safe.” He pushed.

“I don’t fucking care-“

“You don’t care about my son?” He screamed into the void of the bedsheets, the palms of his hands digging at his weary eyes. The statement shook you, it clawed at the deepest parts of you and ripped them out. Left you gutted.

“How f-fucking dare you…” You choked, his back was still turned to you. You looked around the room in frantic disbelief, fists punching at your head. “You can at least turn around… and fucking LOOK AT ME… While you tell me that I don’t care about MY SON!”

You were towering above him now, for once in the years you had known this man the power dynamic had shifted. What was different was that you’d experienced another kind of love, and that love left you with a reflex that would cut anyone that threatened it. Toji had been training you up for this moment, the one where he would finally say he was leaving again, and you’d have to be there for Megumi on your own.

You shoved at his back and he didn’t budge, so you shoved again, and again he didn’t budge.

“He’s my son too….” You seethed, “ And I will not let you sit there with your back turned to me…” You continued as you rounded the bed so you were facing him. “Just so you can fucking tell me that I don’t care about him!”

He kneeled as still as a statue, the silence surrounding him almost sickening. And the more you stared at Toji, the more you wanted to laugh. You were not going to fall for his bullshit game again, because in the two years that you’ve loved him you’ve also learned him.

“You’re a coward, Toji…” You shot to kill. “If you meant what you said you can look me in the eye and say it again.”

Knowing he wouldn’t budge, you crawled onto the bed and kneeled beneath him, forcing yourself to look up into his eyes. They looked empty.

“Go ahead and tell me that I don’t love my son, Toji,” you smirked, eyes wild and alight as they were when Toji first set eyes upon you years ago, when he knew he had to have you. You grabbed his chin and tilted it upwards as you crawled into his lap, straddling him so he had nowhere to go, nothing else to look at but you, nothing else to feel but you. You put your lips to his and growled, nothing but heat laced in your words.

“Be a man… be a father… and tell me that I don’t love my fucking son.” A tear slipped down his cheek, and you could see mountains move in his eyes and you watched the walls of that fortress crack after two years. His hands fell to your hips, locking you in.

“I can’t,” he whispered, “I can’t tell you that.” Sorrow held heavy in his gaze, as he tried to kiss you with your lips on his. You wouldn’t let him, pushing his face back into place.

“Then tell me… why you would lie to me Toji,” you asked softly, your sadness, your embarrassment returning. “Why would you leave me again? Have I not been good enough-“

“No,” he cut you off, “No, never.”

“Then what is it! Tell me why you’re leaving- again!” You sobbed, your vision of him blurry now. Your hands wrapped around the back of his head as you pulled his body into your bare chest, feeling the wetness of his cheeks against your breasts. You dropped your head into the crook of his neck and sobbed, “What haven’t I done to make you see how much I love you?”

“It’s not what you didn’t do,” he resolved, “It’s what you did do.” You shook as his fingers kissed up and down your spine. “You have done everything- I could’ve asked for. I am scared of the way I love you… and I am scared of the way you love me.” He tried to pull your face from his neck but you were the immovable statue this time.

“Look at me,” He says sternly, forcing you from your hiding spot. He places a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I have never loved someone so much. I can’t stay away from you and I think that’ll be our downfall if I don’t leave now. My plan was never to stay, I was going to leave you with Megumi… but god, you’re like a fucking magnet. Of course I stumbled in after him and when I saw you sitting on that bed with him… my fate with you was set in stone, princess.”

You were a blubbering baby, your hands holding his face as your thumbs rubbed his cheeks back and forth, like they were trying to memorize every scar and curve. You kissed his cheek as he continued, “It is everything you have made me… that’s the reason I have to leave. My work isn’t safe, once they know how soft I’ve become you will be the first people they target.”

“Toji, I d-don’t care!” You blurted out, “I don’t care… I can take care of myself, I can take care of Megumi. Teach me then, huh? Teach me to f-fight o-o-or use a gun… please Toji… I need you here.” You weren’t even sure of what you were saying, you were just saying anything to keep him here longer.

“You are all I have left-“ He pushed.

“As you are to me!” You bit back.

“Toji, you are all I have… please… please can we try?”

You practically begged, “What about our baby? Was that all just shit to get me to sleep with you one last time? Hm?”

“No, of course not!” He shot back, words fiery and filled with passion.

“So you were gonna what? Toji? Knock me up and leave?” You asked silently, holding your eye contact with him. “Because I really wanted- I really wanted to have that with you.”

He bit back tears, swallowing deeply as you drilled into him. He just shook his head, if he wanted to keep you in his life he had to do this. He had to let you go. He gently pushed you off of him one last time, wincing when he felt you reach for him, your hand gracing his.

“N-no Toji… no, please,” you begged, his heart tearing as he walked closer to the door, gathering his things slowly. He jolted when he felt your small body press into his back, hugging him from behind and shaking. It took everything in him to fight the urge to place his hand over yours. But feeling you slide to the floor behind him made him turn around to look at you. He had done it, he had broken you, and for the first time in his life he was disgusted that he had done that to someone.

“Get up,” he choked.

You refused.

“Get. Up!”

“No.”

“I’m not leaving you on the floor like this-“

“Then don’t fucking leave! You asshole!” You screamed at him wildly, smacking at his legs with weak jabs, the picture of a child throwing a tantrum.

“If you ever loved me or Megumi you would stay!” You cried, “You would stay… and you would try for us…”

“You can’t say that-“

“Yes I can because it’s true,” you shot your words at him like bullets leaving a gun, short and quick, one after the other.

“When I agreed to take Megumi under my care… I said I would do it only if you stayed with me. I said I wasn’t going to let you run away. And if you think for a second that I didn’t mean it then you really are fucking dense Fushiguro.”

Toji’s mouth quirked at the sound of you using his surname, you haven’t done that for a while. He set his sights on you for a reason all those years ago, he knew you were strong, he knew you were unwavering. He just never thought he’d meet someone as stubborn if not more stubborn than him. That’s why he knew you were the one he was going to leave Megumi with. And even now as he looked down at you he knew he made the right decision. You would chase him into the parking lot naked if he made a run for it and he knew that. No one was better for his family than you. His heart dropped when he felt your hand reach up to his, releasing him from his train of thought. You were beautiful. And he was sorry. And stupid for thinking that this wasn’t going to go over without a fight. He tightened his grip on your hand and knelt down to kiss it. Every knuckle. Every fingertip. And he knelt into your touch when you cradled his face.

You saw him make a swift movement from the corner of your eye, and you couldn’t move fast enough when you felt a piece of heavy metal weigh down your hand. In it Toji had placed a gun, you knew he always carried one but he’d keep it concealed around you. So you’d never actually seen it. To be holding it right now… you didn’t know what to do. You watched him as he moved to kneel behind you, his hand never leaving yours that held the revolver.

You gasped as he brought an arm around your waist, fixing your posture so you were upright. And he adjusted your arms so the gun was pointing at the door of the motel room. His hands laid loosely over yours and his head rested in the crook of your neck. Your breathing grew heavy when he traced from your hand all the way back to your upper arm, fixing its position and propping it up at a 90 degree angle.

“It’s like a dance, you see.” He whispered into your ear.

“If you hold it properly, and give it room to move,” he loosened your grip on the trigger.

“Not too tight, princess…” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“It’ll hit all the right steps…” His finger covered yours on the trigger and you felt your heart stop, “and you’ll shoot ‘em dead.”

“Bang!” Toji mimicked the sound of a gun as you jumped backwards into him and screamed, eyes squeezed shut. But you didn’t feel the reverb of the gun, you didn’t hear anything piercing the wooden door, only the vibration of Toji’s low chuckle in his throat. You turned around to see him propped up on both arms, staring at you in amusement while you stared at him in shock.

Your hands shook as you examined the gun in your hands, before looking back up at his smiling face. His hands covered yours as he slowly took it out of your grip.

“What the fuck, Toji?” You whispered, scared as if you’d actually shot something.

“Safety’s on, sweetheart.” He teased, wrapping an arm around your neck and bringing you into him to place a wet kiss on your mouth. “I’ll let you do the real thing once you start getting good.”

“What?” You stared at him in disbelief, but he didn’t miss that glimmer of excitement in your eyes.

“I’ll teach you how to use a gun, I’ll teach you to fight, I’ll teach you whatever you want to know… so we can keep our kid safe.” He whispered, looking down at you with a warm smile on his face.

“Yeah?”

“Yes…” He whispered, “…I love you.” He added.

“I love you too,” you almost didn’t believe it.

“I mean it… I love you.” He repeated, like he could read your mind. But you were still hurt, and angry, and everything bad you could feel you felt.

“I- prove it to me… that you mean it… I’ve proved myself to you enough tonight Toji… and I won’t stand to be made a fool,” your words bit, and you hope he felt them draw blood. Toji pulled you back into his chest and buried his face in your hair, taking in your scent.

“You want me to prove it?” He whispered. His hands start to trail up your thighs, his mouth begins to place kisses on your neck. You sighed at his touch, placing your hands over his on your body.

“Mhm,” you whimpered, leaning into his chest, your body becoming overly sensitive to his movements again. Toji’s hands pushed at your thighs, “Open up for me, princess.” You did as you were told, sliding your feet slowly so they could meet his boots on the carpeted floor, putting your clothed heat on display for him. He continued to draw circles on your thighs, more forcefully now, inching your legs open wider.

“T-Toji, please,” you choked out, growing impatient.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered in your ear, sliding his hand under the waistband of your panties, his cold fingers scorched by your hot skin, “Come on… tell me, pretty girl. Had no problem biting my head off a moment ago.”

“Fuck you,” you seethed through gritted teeth, trying to amass any pleasure from rutting your hips upwards.

“Suppose I deserved that,” he chuckled, you could feel his chest shaking against your back. You leaned back into him and swung either of your legs over his highs, opening yourself up wide and demanding he touch you. “Dirty girl, that’s how you got tangled up with me in the first place- were just too damn needy…” His hand slipped under the crotch of your panties and you jerked as he placed his palm flat against you. Toji hissed at the wetness that met his skin, grabbing a handful of the slinky lace into his fist and tearing the cheap fabric off your body, “I’ll have to get you new ones.”

“Please, Toji, please,” you were practically whimpering, begging for him. Jolting as he slapped your waiting cunt once, catching you off guard as you hissed at him. You placed your hand around his forearm and guided it as he massaged the sting of his strike out.

“Tell me-“ He began again, letting his fingers slide up and down your folds, collecting all of the wetness before bringing them up to your mouth. You looked up at him behind you and he simply raised a brow, silently suggesting that you knew what to do. You took his hand in yours and dipped your mouth down onto the two fingers he pulled from beneath you, licking and sucking your arousal off of them.

“Good girl, now tell me…” He pulled his fingers from your mouth and shoved them back down to your weeping heat, this time pushing them in and curling them upwards, holding you in place as your body contracted.

“T-oji my god!” You gasped at the sudden movement. He shushed you, pressing his lips to your ear as his fingers writhed inside of you, “Shhh… tell me about how you’ve dreamed about giving me another baby,” Toji insisted, a glimmer of that ego shining through as he continued his ministrations, more aggressively this time, beginning to pump two fingers in and out of your cunt.

“Mph-fuck, Toji please-” His fingers continued, pushing in and out of you, kissing your ear when your head dropped back onto his shoulder.

“Tell me, pretty girl, and I’ll give you more,” he began to speed up, wrapping his spare arm around your torso to hold you flush against him, spreading his thighs further, ensuring that your legs spread with him. You moaned at the action, rutting your hips up into his hand as you gave him what he wanted.

“I- I’ve dreamed about it since we first bought the house together…” He began to place chaste kisses on your neck, sucking on the supple skin, adding a third finger inside of you. “Fuck… that’s too much To-”

“I think you can take it, how could you have my kids if you can’t even take three of my fingers, princess?” He started to pump slowly, letting you adjust to the size. “Now, go on.”

Your breathing was disorderly, your hands grabbing onto his thighs as you felt yourself swallow the girth of his fingers whole. “Ah- okay… w-we bought the house a-and, I think…” You thought back to the first time you set foot in the house after it was officially yours, you were in love with the Victorian architecture and since you loved it Toji loved it even more.

“I think watching you paint Megumi’s room that bright blue… seeing you covered in paint… making sure e-everything was perfect for him.” You hadn’t even noticed him speeding up, until he started circling your clit with his thumb and you could’ve sworn you were gonna explode. “Toji- please, I think I’m going to-”

“Not yet… finish,” he urged and you protested before you felt him land another strike to your clit, “Now.”

“Oh, my god!” Your eyes crossed when he resumed, your abdomen shaking at the sensation, “W-watching you made me realize t-that… t-that we were going to b-be okay-ah!” The arm around your torso made its way up to your breasts, pinching and twisting at your nipples. “...It made me realize t-that I want to be in this- w-with you…hmph… for a long t-time…” You looked up at him with pursed eyebrows and your mouth agape, finding him already staring at you. His face was warm, your entire being felt warm. And then he sped up, fingers pounding in and out of you, his mouth dropping back down to your neck to litter it with hickies, your legs grew stiff and you frantically jutted up into the palm of his hand.

“Toji- fuck! Please, please-”

“Tell. Me.” He growled, not letting up on his movements.

“I-I- oh fuck… I realized that I wanted to be with you… f-forever, To-ji. I wanted to h-have more kids w-with you a-and raise a f-amily…” Your eyes held his and you felt your toes curl and your insides turn. His mouth connected with yours, holding your jaw in place, as he growled into your mouth.

“Cum.”

You saw stars as his grip on your jaw tightened, swallowing all of your moans, all of your cries, and drinking them like they were a forbidden elixir. He held your legs open with his, pumping in and out of you relentlessly as he held your shaking body. You felt his length, hard against the small of your back, and you lost it completely when you felt him needily rutting up into you through his black denim. “Fuck Toji! I’m cumming. I’m cumming- ah!”

You two were a sweaty bundle of bodies, desperately rutting into each other, trying to be impossibly close to one another. You reached an arm around his neck and drew him into a wet kiss, hungrily biting and sucking on his lips, his tongue, any inch of him you could take in.

“More. Toji, please, I need you more.” You begged when his fingers finally released you. You wanted each other in ways you never had before, this time was… different. This time you two were consummating your own version of a fucked-up marriage. In sickness and health. In life and death. You would have each other completely. You felt how needy he was, the scent of your arousal on his mouth, on his hands, lingering everywhere, it turned him into an animal. You turned to face him and helped him out of his clothes. Peeling the shirt off his sweaty body as he kicked his boots off, licking a stripe up his abdomen with heaving breaths, your eyes never leaving him as you panted for him, need dripping off your tongue. Once you got to his neck, you began to leave bite marks along his collarbone, his jaw, your bare cunt rutting into his crotch, growling at the cotton boxer-briefs that kept skin from skin. Toji’s hands grazed over your body, tracing every curve and valley, letting you devour him, take him, do what you wanted with him.

“Take these off,” You breathed against his neck, fingers pulling at the waistband of the boxers, he chuckled, grabbing you by the back of the head and forcing your eyes to meet his, “As you wish, mama.”

Sure, there were partners before Toji, and the sex was fine. But no one had ever made you act the way he made you act. You were a partnership of two antagonists, just prodding and poking at each other to see who could make the other crazier. You were sure that tonight, Toji would win.

Mama.

You saw stars at the word and he knew it. Toji watched your eyes grow as dark as his in seconds, trailing his every movement as he lifted his hips up and slid his boxers down his legs. You watched his cock smack his stomach, so rock hard it looked like it hurt. You needed him in cynical, territorial ways. As did he to you.

“If you don’t put a baby in me right now Fushiguro…” His eyes widened at the vulgarness of your demand. He watched you kneel just feet away from him, observed the way your chest was heaving up and down, the locket he gifted you, the one you never took off, moving with it. He noticed the way your breasts looked heavier, nipples puffier. He noticed your arousal dripping down your thigh, he had never seen you so wet. And lastly, he noticed the way your hands guarded your stomach, as if they were guarding your precious womb until he came around to mark it.

“Get on your back,” he barked, climbing over to you swiftly, not giving you time to follow his directions on your own as he had you laid down against the carpet in seconds. He licked his lips as he watched you draw your bitten lips into your mouth, waiting for him to do something.

“Tonight I am going to fucking worship you,” he growled, smashing his lips to yours, jamming his tongue down your throat and licking you everywhere unholy. His lips trailed down your breasts, your stomach, and he stopped above your thighs, leaving bite marks all the way down. He blew a puff of air onto your sticky heat, before teasing you with a small lick. The second your thighs flew upwards his hands held them down, gripping onto the fat like they were lifesavers. He stuck his tongue in your folds, firmly tracing circles around your clit and following the patterns of your vulva.

“Toji!” You screamed, almost as if you wanted him to stop. But that couldn’t be further from the truth, you needed him to keep going. One of your hands tangled in his hair as the other held onto his, your body writhing like a fish out of water as he continued to suck and pull at your core, groaning into you every time you rode your hips against his face.

“I-I can’t, please I’m-” You gasped for air, desperately moving your body up and down with his mouth, riding out the waves of pleasure he was giving you. Your body was still sensitive from your orgasm just moments ago, you felt like you could burst at any moment. But Toji didn’t stop, he kept blowing air onto your clit, fucking you with his tongue and biting the soft skin around your mound. He reached up to grab hold of one of your breasts, squeezing and pinching as he himself ground into the carpet he laid upon. Your moans and your taste were his jet fuel, and he was getting off to every second of it. You watched his ass flex as he repeated his movements, drawing circles into the carpet with his cock. The sight of him desperately humping nothing sent you over the edge, screaming as you pulled at his hair, your thighs closing around his head.

“TojiohmygodI’mcummingfuck!” Your words came out a sloppy mess, unable to do anything but praise him for being so good to you. He continued to place kisses on your inner thighs until you were done riding out your high, your body finally falling back to the floor.

“Feel okay?” He asked calmly, rising to his knees as your body occasionally twitched in your post-orgasmic euphoria. He ran his hands up and down your torso, gently massaging once he got down to your pelvic bones, working out the knots and work you had just put in to getting off on his face. He knelt down to kiss you deeply, tenderly this time, inhaling your scent and running his hand over your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. His eyes searching for answers in yours, “I’m sorry,” he uttered, digging his forehead into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry I tried to run away, you don’t deserve that.”

“Toji… I- I love you.” He kissed your forehead, his hand hitching themselves underneath your thighs, watching your eyebrows furrow together while he inched your knees up slowly.

“This comfortable?” He asked you for reassurance again and you nodded, and he pushed a little further, until your knees nearly touched your shoulders, you winced a little at the stretch of it, inhaling and exhaling deeply as he waited for you to adjust. When you open your eyes he’s looking down at you, kissing the insides of your calves and massaging them.

“It hurts a little?” He asks again gently and you nod. He chuckles quietly as he leans down to kiss you, you inhale sharply as he puts pressure on your legs, stretching your hamstrings even more than intended.

“If I’m gonna put a baby in you, this is the best way, princess.”

His words ran straight to your core, and you nodded frantically, feeling like a teenager having sex for the first time. So eager to feel him. This time with Toji felt different, call it- fucking with intention. Both of you felt the thickness of the air, you knew how much this meant. He placed a chaste kiss to your lips before whispering against them, “Let me know if you need me to stop.”

Your eyes nearly crossed at the suggestion of him fucking you so hard you’d need to call it in, you just wanted to feel him already, “Mhm… Toji, please.”

His head dropped to your chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck, gripping him tighter when you felt his tip prop itself at your entrance. He laid his body flat against yours, you screamed at the burning in your legs, folded back against you with the weight of his body, but you wanted more. His arms caged your head in on either side and that was when you felt it. Toji watched the way your face contorted, your mouth dropping and eyes squeezing shut as he filled you at an angle he never had.

“Fuuuck,” he exhaled, inching his length into you further and further. He felt you claw at his back, skin sticking under your fingernails as you groaned with him, two animals fucking to conceive. The most primitive state of the human, fucking to reproduce, to bear offspring, to grow a family.

“Toji-”

“Yes, princess,” he cut you off, “Oh fuck,” he gasped, bottoming out inside you, before hoisting your waist up to his and slinging your legs over his shoulders.

“T-Toji I’m so full!” You whined, grabbing onto his thighs folded on the floor as he knelt before you, buried deep in your cunt.

“I know, baby, I know… be good and let me put a baby in you, okay?” He asked, placing kisses to your calves once again. You panted, nodding up at him while he made his first move. You groaned as he pulled himself out, before splitting you back open and bottoming out once again, “Fuck Toji, I need-”

You felt it snap inside you again, whatever it was that made you feral, foaming at the mouth for the feeling of him inside you. “Toji I need you to fuck me…” You ground your hips into his, grasping at anything to give you leverage on his length. He looked down at you wearily, always so delicate, so fragile, “I don’t know if I should-”

“Fuck, Toji! Stop treating me like I’m glass and fuck me!” His eyes grew dark at your words, but still a glint of remorse held him back. You smacked at his chest, then looked down to remember that he was balls deep inside you, he seemed to remember at the same time because his stare turned wicked, “Look at me, Toji... I need you to fuck me baby.”

You felt him begin to pick up his pace, slowly but surely rutting into you, fucking you deeper and deeper with every thrust. “F-uck, Toji!” Your mouth dropped as you watched a string of spit leave his mouth and drip on to where his cock and your cunt met, you gasped for air when he reached down to spread it around, lubing you up and preparing to go deeper, “T-oji, TojiTojiTojiii, please baby.”

“Yes, pretty girl. Fuck yes.” He gritted through his teeth, groaning at the way your tits bounced with every thrust, he reached out and cupped one in his hand, “Fuck, your tits are gonna be so full in a few months…” Your eyes rolled back at the way he groped it, playing with your nipple. Then your eyes fell to where you two connected and his gaze followed, the two of you watching Toji reappear and disappear inside of you, your wetness covering his cock, and his arousal being shoveled deeper and deeper inside of you.

You squealed as he thrusted harder, laying on top of you and rutting down into your heat. “Go ahead and touch yourself for me,” Toji instructed, and so you did. And a familiar feeling began to bubble up in your stomach, and for the third time that night Toji would ruin you.

“Toji, please oh fuck-” He brought a hand up to your sweaty forehead, blowing air on it to cool you down, he then took your hand and placed it on your stomach, smirking as your eyes widened at what you felt.

“Feel that? Feel me inside of you?” He whispered, kissing you swiftly, feeling himself come close. You were a mess of moans and whines and you couldn’t even begin to explain the things that Toji was making you feel.

“Y-yes… yesyesyesdaddyIfeelit!” You cried as you circled your clit faster and pulled him closer, “Fuck yes! Right there baby, fuck me right there!”

Toji growled, his hands now clawing at your thighs, the picture of two animals fucking wildly. Something sent him tipping past sanity as he pushed your legs all the way back, your ass up in the air as he thrusted down into you.

“Call me that again…” He seethed, grinning cynically at the way your eyes glazed over, his hand wrapped itself around your throat, enough to let you breathe. The sensation was overbearing, you started writhing underneath him, squirming and twitching while he kept his pace.

“F-uck,” you choked out, cracking what smile you could with Toji’s hand restricting you, “I want you to fill me up, Daddy.” Toji saw red, and blue, and every color that you helped him see in the past two years, and he fucked them all back into you. He kissed you with tenacity, lips tangled with lips and limbs tangled with limbs.

“I’m close,” he seethed.

“Me too,” you whispered.

“Boy or girl, tell me and I’ll fill you,” he whispered against your lips, saliva, snot and sweat mixing as you two breathed heavily into each other's mouths. Toji’s neck turned red the longer he held in his orgasm, the veins of his arms popping as he held you tightly, maneuvering you so you were in the perfect position to receive him.

“I told you I don’t care,” you whispered back, feeling yourself close to the brink, tears forming in your eyes, “I told you I d-don’t care as long as I raise them with you.”

He smiled, “Pick a wild card.”

You smiled back.

“Girl,” you whispered. With your arms holding him closely against you, Toji began to writhe, his abdomen jerking in and out as he tried to control the strength of his orgasm.

“Fuck!” He screamed, fucking his seed into you, filling you up with himself. You pulled his face to yours and kissed him tenderly while you felt yourself clench around his length, milking him and riding out another orgasm of your own.

“Yes,Toji! Yesyesyes!” You wrapped your legs around his torso and held him there, feeling his body twitch as he continued to shoot loads of himself into you. Your body shook as you took everything he had to give you, placing your hands atop his as he held your legs back, the two of you watching him push every drop that fell out back in.

To think that you and Toji would end up here, there was a time when he was nothing but a fuck buddy to you, and you to him, now you desired something so intimate, so binding to his being. You couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly in his arms, and with that he looked down at you, smiling. Toji admittedly never smiled a lot before he met you, but as he looked down at you, he couldn’t be happier to smile in your presence.

“Do you think we… got it?” You asked him, out of breath.

He raised his eyebrows, “You would doubt my work?” You smacked his chest and pushed him off of you, attempting to stand up but finding yourself weak in the knees. Toji approached you from behind and lifted you up slowly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him.

“I think we should try the bed out next,” he whispered, “See if it’s still any good?”

You looked up at him in disbelief, “You want to do that again?”

“You don’t?” He smirked.

“Well I-” You thought for a second while you melted into his hold, “I don’t not want to do that again.” He emitted a dark sound, while kissing the top of your head, and leading you step by step over to the old mattress.

“Remember the first time we had sex here? I think I tied you to the headboard,” he suggested casually. Your hands tensed around his before you spun yourself around to face him, wanting to smack him, grin and all. He pushed himself into you and grabbed handfuls of your ass, lifting you up into him and taking in the sight.

“For old times sake, princess,” he persisted. Your tongue pushed at the inside of your cheek as you considered the idea. You supposed mother’s had to have fun too.

“...Just this once, asshole.”

“God, I love it when you call me that.”

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foreverisntenough · 1 month

Note

i would love a cute blurb about teddy’s first day at nursery school 🥹🥹🤍🤍

Hi <3 I know you asked this ages ago but I was on holiday and then took a minute to write but Ta Da! for youuuu! I loved this idea so tysm for messaging. I hope you like it!

--------- My tiny one shot below for you 🤍

'Brave for Dada' - 1.5k words |

↳ It was an emotional first day of nursery school for Trent and your daughter, Teddy.

Other ForeverIsntEnough One Shots

---------

“Mama no.” Teddy sobbed as you got her dressed for her first day of nursery school. To say that she was not excited would be an understatement. “Don’t wanna go any more, tay? No tanks, mama. Wanna be with you.” She hiccuped while you slicked her hair back with a bristle brush tight into a low bun. Despite her pleas, you got her in some white Dior trousers, a navy Dior cable knit jumper, white and navy Golden Goose velcro trainers, a Stoney Clover backpack, one of many you had but this color matched her look for the day with her ‘TAA’ initials on it. As a special little surprise you had gotten her royal blue Burberry keychain that was bear wrapped in a blanket. She, as expected, thought it was adorable. It made her smile momentarily through her tears as you helped her clip it on the bag.

“Daddy, want to come see our little Teddy bear all ready for school?” You cooed for Trent who was currently in your room to come to hers to see her all dressed ready to go. Tears still rolling. She stood there sniffling but she looked adorable.

“Look at my gorgeous big girl! You look so beautiful, baby. I love your outfit! Did you help mummy pick it out?” He asked her. Teddy nodded. She was being particularly quiet today given her nerves.

“Are you going to be a big girl and go to school, baby bear?” Trent cooed once you got her downstairs. Teddy clung to him in the foyer at your front door. “You’re my brave girl, yeah? I know you’ll have the most fun and you have to promise the second I come home from training you have to tell me all the fun things you did, okays?” He squatted down to her level. Her hands wrapped around his neck as his big hand rubbed up and down her back consoling her.

“Tay, dada. Can you come with mes?” She sniffled through her words. The tears that had been falling all morning continued. He wiped a few escapees off her cheeks and kissed her frowny pout.

“Oh baby, I wish I could. Daddy’s got training. It's just like school but for footie. Did you know that?” He asked her and she shook her head no. “Yeah, Ted. I get nervous sometimes too but I go and I get to meet new friends and learn all sorts of new things, I get snacks, and the best part is that when I’m done having fun there I get to come be with you and mummy right after! But you know why your school is even better?” Teddy gave him a still hesitant shake of the head ‘no’ but this time not as stern, she wasn’t completely rejecting his persuasion. “I don’t get to look as pretty as my baby bear does. You look like the most beautiful girl in the whole world. Prettiest girl in the whole school and the bravest too. So promise me you’ll at least try and be brave for dada, okay?." Teddy's bottom lip quivered. "If you get nervous that's okay too, sweetheart but know daddy does sometimes too. You can do it. Mummy and I believe in you so much and you should too. Pinky promise you’ll try?” He sympathetically smiled at her sticking his much larger hand out. She sheepishly raised her hand and interlocked her tiny pinky around his promising. He kissed her little pout. “I almost forget, Ted!” Trent yelped. He hadn't; he just wanted one last thing to hopefully make her smile before he had to get out the door. “I know you’re a tiny nervous, baby and you know how you’re our little bear right? Well, daddy got you a little something so in case you start to miss mummy and daddy when you’re at school to make you smile. Can I put it on you?” He gently spoke to her. You sat yourself on the hardwood floor next to them. She nodded through tears. He clasped a small gold charm bracelet with three enamel teddy bears on it around her tiny wrist. “How many bears are there? Can you count?” Trent smiled.

“One, twos, and erm, three, dada.” She smiled identically mirroring his. It was stupidly ornate to send a child with jewelry of that caliber to school but that was Trent’s way.

“Good girl! So it’s just like us three, okay? You will have mummy and I with you the whole time. I’m so proud of you. I love you, baby.” He kissed her forehead and stood up.

“Mama look! Bringing dada and mama bears to school with mes!” Teddy excitedly told you, shoving her bracelet clad wrist in your face. Naively unaware she was sporting a comfortable three thousand pound piece of jewelry to nursery school.

“Wow, that’s so special! Daddy must love you a whole lot.” You smiled as you kissed over the bracelet three times. “And mummy does too.” You kissed her nose pulling her down into a hug.

“Mama!” Teddy sobbed, breaking free from the school teacher who was holding her hand on the pavement. She sprinted to you. You crouched down and wrapped her in the tightest embrace feeling like you wanted to cry just like she was.

“Hi my big girl! I missed you so much.” You cooed, kissing her hair as she clung to you crying more. You stood up keeping Teddy in your arms. You smiled at the teacher who handed her little backpack over to you.

“She’s tired but we had a good day. Lots to show your mummy, huh?” The kind woman gently asked Teddy, rubbing her arm tenderly. She had packed away plenty of drawing’s and little things Teddy had done during the day into her bag for you.

“Want mama.” Teddy continued to wail. It was breaking your heart to see her so upset but you kind of anticipated this. It wasn't exactly a secret that she was fairly attached to you.

“I’m right here. Mummy’s got you. I think you're just tired, huh? Almost time for our nap, yeah?” You cooed attempting to soothe her but very aware that it was about 15 minutes till when she typically went down for a nap which was likely fueling this emotional reunion. “I bet you had so much fun though so you have to tell me all about it on the way home.” You kissed her forehead.

“Nooo mummy.” She sniffled, wrapping her arms even tighter around your neck.

“Okay, okay. How about we call daddy in the car. Will you tell him?” You asked her and she hiccuped in a breath almost forgetting what she was sad about by the idea of getting to talk to Trent. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the teacher who nodded unphased by probably the umpteenth toddler she had handed over crying this afternoon after the first day of nursery school came to a close. Teddy began to calm a little bit. “Yeah? I know he can’t wait to hear about your first day. Daddy and I are so proud of you. Let's go, my Teddy girl.” You bounced her on your hip walking back to your car, kissing her temple. To your dismay when you called Trent, he didn’t answer. You roughly knew his schedule so you decided that even though the sniffly little girl in your backseat whose eyes were fighting to stay open you’d take a different route home. “Come on.” You grunted picking a sleepy Teddy up out of her carseat. “Do you see where we are?” You smiled putting Teddy down onto the ground before you extended your hand for her to hold as she inspected her surroundings. You watched her get more and more excited as you walked through the car park and in through the big doors, down the corridor and back outside into the bright sun on the other side of the building.

“My dada!” Teddy squealed, pointing her arm through the fence out to the pitch at AXA where Trent had already spotted her and had begun to run over to you.

“Is that my brave baby bear?” Trent cooed, immediately scooping Teddy up and lifting her up over the fence. She started to cry clinging to him like she did to you before. “Didn’t know that my beautiful girls were coming here.” Trent smiled, kissing Teddy’s forehead, running his hand over her hair before he leaned over the fence to kiss you.

“We needed to see daddy right after school, huh? Just couldn’t wait.” You laughed a little seeing Teddy smush herself against him. You cupped Trent’s slightly sweaty cheek stoking your thumb over his glowing skin.

“I couldn’t wait to see my baby bear either. Want to come play some some footie with me?” Trent kissed the inside of your wrist as he asked Teddy. His training was done. It was a rehabilitation day for him anyway but instead of calling it he’d spend the next hour chasing after Teddy as you sat on the side of the pitch. You were relieved to see Teddy giggling away again as opposed to crying but you sighed remembering you had to do it all again tomorrow.

⇨ Read other ForeverIsntEnough work here!

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

Text

Trick & Treat

18+ 2.1k Dullahan!Homelander x F!Reader. established relationship, body horror, dirty talk, cunnilingus, cream pie. written for monsterlander mania

A world in which all supes are the results of humans experimenting on one another with the blood of Fae from the Seelie Courts. Homelander is one such amalgamation, and as a result of his Gan Ceann blood, he has a particularly neat party trick to show you.

Homelander always kisses you like he means to devour you. You’re certain he could, especially when your teeth touch the sharp juts of his canines. Never do they seem more like fangs than when he’s dragging them along your throat, licking the salt from your skin with a wicked, hungry noise.

“You said you were going to show me a trick,” you remind him with a giggle, carding your fingers through his hair.

“Mmmm, that I did,” he hums, walking into you, forcing you backwards until the back of your legs bump his bed. You laugh as he gives you a gentle push, sending you down onto the plush bedding with a bounce. “Think you can handle it? It’s an awfully spooky trick,” he warns, those fangs of his flashing in a brilliantly white smile.

Sitting up, you scoot forward on the bed so that you can begin working his belt loose. “I’ve handled everything else you’ve thrown at me, haven’t I?”

Dating Homelander has more or less been a gauntlet of how many strange quirks you can endure from a single partner. You’ve grown accustomed to his fussiness when it comes to the rules of hospitality, his severe aversion to any and all iron, his penchant for milk–he likes it best when you leave it out for him unprompted–and most importantly of all, his deep love of jokes and trickery.

“True,” he supposes, cupping either side of your face. He strokes the rise of your cheeks, smiling down at you with the kind of tenderness that makes your stomach flip.

Returning his smile, you tug at the zipper of his pants, but he stops you. “Ah ah ah. I’ll be the one giving you head tonight, missy. But first,” he says, which tells you he most definitely has a scheme in mind. “Undress for me.”

Huffing a playful breath, you withdraw your hands and instead pull off your own shirt. You shimmy out of your pants and underthings next, leveling Homelander with an expectant look once you’re fully undressed. He lets out a low whistle, leaning down to kiss you. “It’s like a self-opening present. Never gets old,” he says, nipping at your bottom lip.

“What’s the trick?” You ask, bouncing lightly on the bed.

He laughs. “So impatient! Fine, fine, alright, Christ,” he says, reaching up to the collar of his suit. He unzips a concealed zipper, and tugs the opening loose. Watching you, he places both hands flat over his temples, and gives you one last lingering look, lips curled in a devious grin. “Y’ready?”

Apprehension crawls into your gut and nestles there, your own smile faltering slightly. “Ready…”

You jump when he snaps his head to the side with a strange sound. It almost sounded like the tear of velcro, and before you can question what the hell it was, the wind is knocked completely from you when he lifts his head clean off his neck. No connective tissue, no blood, no gore. He simply holds his head up like a trophy, the bottom of it an empty, black abyss.

“Surprise!” He says, his disembodied head still grinning as he suddenly holds it out to you.

You scream, scrambling back on the bed, your eyes wide. “What the fuck! Oh my god, what the fuck? What the fuck, Homelander!?”

He starts laughing, kneeling on the bed. “Whaaat? I thought you liked tricks,” he says, placing his head on the bed while he adjusts his collar. “Yeah, we don’t advertise this one too much. Freaks people out,” he says, rolling his eyes. It’s beyond surreal to watch him emote like this, his neck cushioned by the bedding while his body continues to operate behind him.

Mouth agape, you continue to stare at him, a morbid curiosity slipping in amidst the horror. “How… How is this possible?”

“Same bullshit that makes flight and laser vision possible,” he says, watching you. It takes you a moment, but beyond the perverse enjoyment of your shock, you’re sure you see a flicker of apprehension in his expression. He’s waiting, you realize.

Waiting to see how you’ll respond. If you’ll reject him.

These are often the stages of your relationship with Homelander. He parts the curtain of himself bit by bit, daring you to flee with each confession about his existence. This is by far the most alarming reveal so far.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, the tension in your body easing.

He looks surprised, as if no one has ever asked him that before. Behind him, his body shrugs. “Uh, nope. Feels like stretching.”

“This is insane,” you say, crawling towards his head. Of all the things supes are capable of, you’ve never seen anything like this.

His smile slowly returns. “Pick me up.”

Your expression blanches. “What?”

“C’mon! Pick me up. Gimme a kiss,” he says, puckering his lips, coaxing you with kissy sounds.

Oh god.

“I…” You sigh. “...Alright, I’ll… Okay. Let me just…” You slip your hands behind his jaw, cupping the back of his neck, using your thumbs to brace him from tipping forward. “Oh, god, okay, I don’t want to drop–your head is really heavy,” you grunt, surprised by the density of it.

“Thirteen pounds, baby,” he confirms proudly.

“I was sure all the hot air would lessen the load,” you say, hefting him up to your eye level.

“Veeery funny,” he drawls. “Kissy time.”

After one last beat of hesitation, you lean in, bringing him close as you do. Closing your eyes, kissing him feels like it always does. His lips are as hungry for yours as ever, coaxing them into a dance. If not for the weight of all thirteen pounds of his head in your hands, you might forget anything was different at all.

Distracted, you don’t notice the bed dip behind you until you feel Homelander’s gloved hands on you, pulling your back to his chest, startling you. “God,” you gasp as you look back, a shiver running up your spine at the image of his headless torso poised behind you. “That is so fucking scary,” you say, returning your gaze to his head in your hands.

“Relax, babe,” he purrs, licking his lips. “You got your trick. It’s only fair you get a treat now.”

“What do you–oh!” You startle at the press of his fingers between your thighs, grip tightening on his skull. “You seriously want to–to fool around like this?” You ask, unable to do anything but fall back against his chest while his fingertips stroke your clit, his other hand sliding up your side, cupping your breast.

“Do I seriously want to eat your pretty pussy while I fuck you? Uh, yeah. I do,” he says, which admittedly lights a spark right at your core. “C’mon, sweetheart. Like this,” he says, taking his hand from your chest to grab a handful of his own hair, pushing your hold on him down, bringing his head between your legs. He nudges your knees further apart with his own, and brings himself close enough to drag his tongue over your clit, glancing up to watch you shiver, the glint in his eyes downright wicked.

“This is so weird,” you say, but it fades off into a moan as his tongue swirls. He only stops so that he can suck his own fingers into his mouth, thoroughly wetting them before he returns to licking your clit while his spit-slick fingers stroke your cunt, rubbing back and forth a moment before slowly sliding in.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, hips jerking. “Oh, ffffuck…”

It’s almost like being in bed with two different people at once. Homelander is as voracious as ever, licking and sucking every drop that spills from you. You feel his tongue lap at where your pussy is stretched around his fingers before dragging back to your clit, lips closing on it while the pointed tip of his tongue swirls.

“That’s it,” he says between the drags of his tongue. “Taste so fuckin’ good, babe. Ready for me?” He asks, slipping his fingers free. You’re not left hanging for long, the wet head of his cock eagerly nudging your pussy. He moans at that first hot press, giving a playful little growl as he nuzzles against your cunt, sucking hungrily at your clit.

“Yeah, yes, yes, m’ready,” you pant, thighs shaking. His head is getting heavy, but his tongue feels too good to let go of, or even adjust. “Don’t stop, keep–keep doing that.” He eagerly complies, humming against you while the head of his cock splits you open in one slow delicious slide.

You’ve had his head between your legs, and you’ve had the fullness of him inside you, but never could you have imagined both at once. The sheer heat of him is overwhelming, and you shudder bodily against him. His arms move to either side of you, and he nudges your hands out of the way, taking his head from them and relieving you of the weight.

“Touch me,” he groans against you, bracing you firmly in place within the bracket of his arms. You do so readily, slipping one hand into his hair while your other falls to his thigh, gripping it tight. He snaps his hips harder, knocking a moan out of you as he picks up a rhythm, his tongue never once faltering. Your breaths grow pitchier the faster he moves, his arms giving you nowhere to squirm, no reprieve while he fucks and devours you to his hearts content.

All you can do is hold on.

“I-I’m gonna come,” you whine, struggling to get the words out with the way each crack of his hips knocks the breath from you, edging you closer and closer to your climax.

“Me too,” he murmurs, though you feel it more than you hear it. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Do it. Wanna taste it when you come on my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck, Homelander, Homelander!” You cry, your nails biting into the fabric of his suit, yanking hard on his hair as your body locks up. The orgasm that hits is torrential, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. Your thighs shake, and if not for Homelander’s arms braced on either side of you, holding you tight to his chest, you’d collapse.

All the while he sucks and licks you through it, fucking greedily into your quivering pussy, gasping hot and wet against your clit as he comes, too, fucking it into you as deep as he can while lapping up whatever spills on his tongue.

You sink back against him, loose-limbed and shuddering. Every pass of his tongue earns a jerky little thrust from you, the wet slide of it creating a burst of little aftershocks of pleasure.

Eventually, overstimulation begins to edge out your enjoyment. “Okay,” you rasp, giving his hair a gentle tug at the same time you pat his thigh. “Okay, good, good boy, that was… Fuck.”

Homelander pulls off of your clit with a pop, humming a pleased little purr. You completely collapse against him as he lifts his arms from you–lifting them over your head like the bars on a rollercoaster–and takes his head with him as he does. You hear a shuffle of fabric, and then an odd kind of crunch not unlike the one you heard when he first popped it off.

“Mmmmm…” He sighs, wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling at your neck. As he tenderly kisses up your neck, it's good to feel his lips where you expect them to be relative to his body again. “God, I’ve been thinkin’ about that for awhile,” he says, nipping playfully at your ear.

“I can confidently say that I had never once considered that,” you say, your words half slurred. You barely feel like your own head is attached after how hard you came.

He laughs, the heat of his breath on your ear giving you goosebumps. “Think you’d do it again?” He asks, voice pitched low and wicked, but you can hear the slight edge to his voice. You’ve been with him long enough to know that he wants to know that you liked it. That you like him.

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, and you can’t help but smile. You kiss him, licking the shared taste of you both from his lips. He squeezes a little moan out of you, hugging you like he’ll never let you go.

“Yeah,” you say softly, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. Part of you is surprised you don’t feel some kind of seam. “In a heartbeat.”

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #teratophillia #monster romance #monsterlander mania #my writing #smut #ok i had a lot of fun with this one fghjkl #threw in some folklore for shits and giggles #anyways enjoy!!!#not proofread bc my adhd would rather kill me

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bullet-prooflove · 6 months

Note

"It's you and me, now and forever"

It’s you, Omar thinks about when he gets shot in the chest by that college kid. The fact that you have absolutely no idea that he’s in love with you. He lies on his back staring up at a water stained ceiling and prays to Allah that he lives long enough to tell you that, that by some miracle he makes it home tonight. The agony, it stabs through his ribs as his ears ring like crazy. The taste of metal twangs on his tongue and he wonders if he’s drowning, if it’s the taste of his own blood climbing up the back of his throat.

Maggie’s face swings into his vision and there’s a reassurance there, a comfort because if these are his last words, there’s a witness to them.

“Hanna…” He chokes but he can’t seem to catch his breath. “Tell her…”

“You’re ok.” Maggie soothes, her voice filtering back into his ears as her fingers undo the Velcro straps of his vest. He feels the pressure in his chest loosen as she gently removes the Kevlar. “The vest caught it. I promise you’re going to be ok. I just need you to breathe for me.”

He sucks in a breath and then another, the oxygen fills up his lungs as his heart rate begins to even out. It’s the second time he’s been shot this year.

It’s a couple of hours later that he shows up at the Human Trafficking division in Brooklyn. You’re standing in front of a whiteboard in the conference room, setting up for the team briefing tomorrow morning. You like to be prepared, it’s one of the things he loves about you because it means he doesn’t have to worry as much.

You look up when he enters the room, he looks tired, a little dishevelled. His tie is missing, the top two buttons of his white shirt are open, the sleeves rolled up his muscular forearms.

“Omar.” You say softly and before another word can leave your mouth, he kisses you.

That emotion in his chest, it breaks like a wave as his lips brush over yours with a tenderness he reserves only for you.

“You are the light of my life.” He murmurs as he cradles your face between his hands. “It’s you and me, now and forever.”

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serenpedac · 6 months

Note

For that 'seeking physical affection' post, I would love to see how you think the members of Unit Bravo would do this with one another!

I’ve been thinking of this ask ever since getting it! Thank you so much, this was great fun!

A note: these are all written from the perspective of the person offering the physical affection, because I figured they would be able to more clearly observe what the other is doing. (The only exception is the one for Farah, because, well, you’ll see ^^) The downside is that it doesn’t show what the person needing the affection feels, but I hope the effect still comes across.

Also, this got kind of long, no obligation to read it all!

Words: ~1900 Rating: Teen and up Relationship: All of UB, the friendship edition Warnings: None

Ava and Nat

The hallway echoes with the sound of a training dummy being pummelled. Nat winces at a crack. The silence that follows it is broken again by the time she reaches the training room. On the other side of it is Ava, the muscles in her arms and shoulders working as she hits the dummy again and again.

Hands shoved into her pockets, Nat leans against the doorway. Ava has noticed her, of that she is certain, and will acknowledge her presence in time.

Two, three more strikes pass before Ava turns to her, panting. Her face is flushed and several strands of hair have escaped her ponytail, a detail that would make her look soft it it weren’t for her eyebrows knitted together. Undeterred by the expression, Nat crosses the training room, the floor giving ever so slightly underneath her feet.

“I could hear you all the way from my room.”

Ava’s gaze flickers to the arm of the training dummy that is dangling at its side, and back to Nat, crossing her arms before her chest as if daring Nat to say anything about the crippled object. Nat leans back on her heels instead, raising an eyebrow at Ava’s knuckles which are chafed raw and red.

When Ava realises what she’s looking at, her frown smoothes out. Wordlessly, she gets the plain white wrap from where it’s stored and hands the rolls over.

Just as quietly, Nat slips the loop around Ava’s thumb and begins wrapping. Around and under, between the thumb and forefinger and over the knuckles, covering skin that has already started to heal. With each wrapping, Ava’s breathing becomes steadier, her heartbeat slowing down.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nat says as she pulls the fabric between each of Ava’s fingers.

With all her years of experience, Ava must know it to be true. They had been given insufficient information, not enough time to prepare. Despite that, the hand Nat is holding twitches.

“Still,” Ava murmurs before letting out a sigh.

With a final tug, Nat fastens the velcro at the end. She gives a light squeeze, brushing the unwrapped skin of Ava’s fingers before letting go.

Ava wiggles her fingers, but doesn’t otherwise move out of the bubble of their mingled breaths and shared body heat. “Thank you.”

There’s a softness in those jade stone eyes, a vulnerability that only a rare few ever get to see. Nat counts herself lucky to number among those few.

“Always, old friend.”

*~*~*~*~*

Mason and Felix

“Again?!”

Felix’s head shoots up from putting on his socks to find Mason holding one of his purple hoodies. His very favourite hoodie, in fact.

“Awesome timing, I just needed that one.” He jumps up to walk over in time with the beat of the music to take it from Mason’s outstretched hand. He pulls it over his head. His grin when he emerges is answered with a scowl. “Someone got out of bed with the wrong leg.” That’s not quite it, is it? Was it foot? Nope, that doesn’t sound right either. He shakes his head.

Mason, meanwhile, is still standing there, glaring at him. Definitely not in a good mood, but there’s more to it than that. He would have left otherwise.

“Did you already have breakfast?”

Mason shrugs. That’s a no, then. Meaning he’s waiting for the rest of them so they can have it together or he’s trying to avoid the boost fresh blood will give to his senses. Considering his mood, Felix is more than willing to bet it’s not the former. So, that leaves the only other option: a night—or nights—filled with nightmares that have left Mason on edge.

“Want to hang out here?” Felix asks as he turns off the music on his phone.

There’s another shrug, this one meaning yes—really, Felix is becoming a master at interpreting them.

“I’ll be right back.” Felix dashes out of his bedroom and, setting a new record, is back before Mason has wandered off.

Pushing a straw through the plastic bag, he sits down at his desk, debating what to do. There are a thousand things he could talk about, but that would be the last thing Mason, leaning against the wall with his shoulders drawn up and arms crossed, needs right now. No, he needs it to be quiet, but not so boring that he will notice the way those nightmares left his body stressed and frazzled.

After drinking the last drops of blood, Felix tosses the package into the bin, and takes out some paper and his drawing supplies. Crayons, because they don’t scratch as harshly as pencils do, and because they smell waxy smooth, much like the lines they draw across the paper.

While he is gathered his stuff, Mason went over to the beanbag in the corner to slump down on it.

As Felix continues to blend layers of colour together, the atmosphere of the room changes, he can tell. His short strokes from the start turn into longer, slower ones, the crayons gliding across the paper. When he next looks over at Mason, he is lying with his head tilted back against the wall, his eyes closed. His chest is slowly rising and falling. Not asleep, but close to it.

The sight makes Felix smile, a soft glow blooming in his chest. And if the drawing takes a little—a lot—longer than it really should, well, Mason doesn’t know anything about art anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

Nate and Adam

“Would you mind if I joined you?” Nate’s low voice pulls Adam out of his research.

The muscles in Adam’s shoulders tighten at the note of tension in his voice. After the brightness of the screen, it takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness and discern the tightness drawn across Nate’s face. The attempted smile as he draws near lacks his usual warmth, but it is enough to make Adam lean back in his chair and nod at the seat beside him. “Not at all.”

It is when he leans over to turn on the light beside the desk that he notices it: a thickness to the air, the build-up of charge in inevitable anticipation.

A storm is coming.

Nate sits down and places the book he had brought on the desk. It’s one of the older books, hints of vanilla filling the air. Adam catches golden lettering on the cover when he turns on the desk lamp, though he doesn’t manage to read the title before Nate opens it.

There have been many storms they endured together, but it hasn’t always been like this. Those early years had been worse, Nate often locking himself away, and by the time he would finally open the door, his eyes would be shot through with red, his entire body hunched in on himself. Though there is little he can do, it is better to endure nights like these together, Adam thinks, and he is grateful Nate has come to that same conclusion.

The first raindrops patter against the window, followed by a gust of wind wailing around the warehouse walls. A shudder runs through Nate, the echo reverberating through the spot where Adam’s shoulder is touching his. He shifts his seat closer, until he can easily let his knee rest against Nate’s.

Shoulder-to-shoulder and leg-to-leg, they sit together, Nate’s eyes trained on the yellowed pages of his book, while the screen before Adam is filled with starker black on white. Nate does not read, the rhythm with which he turns the pages too irregular for that. Likewise, the research Adam had been working on progresses little. Not that he is worried, but it would be remiss of him not to pay attention to how a member of his team and his oldest friend is feeling.

As the storm howls outside, Nathaniel leans more of his weight against him, or maybe he is the one who has moved closer. The warmth of skin seeps through layers of clothes, their arms now pressed together tight enough for Adam to feel the tightening of muscles when lightning strikes some spot nearby, the air crackling and sharp with ozone.

Nate lets out a short breath and Adam nudges his shoulder. It’s alright, my friend.

Mercifully, the storm passes fast.

The book is closed with a dull thud, but before Nate can rise, Adam puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Do get some sleep.”

The corners of Nate’s mouth curve with a glimmer of a smile, and he casts a conspicuous look at the laptop screen. “I would say something about a pot and a kettle, if I though it would be of any use.”

A huff escapes him, more out of amusement and relief, than annoyance. “I am almost done. Besides, I hardly need the sleep.”

“But you need the rest.” Nate places his own hand on his, the inside of his palm slightly sticky with sweat, and says, softer, “Please, let me help tomorrow.” After a brief moment, Adam nods. As if he had been waiting for that signal, Nate rises then and offers him a smile, one that is small but true. “Good night, Adam.”

*~*~*~*~*

Farah and all of UB

“Did you all miss me?” The last part of Farah’s question is muffled against Nate’s shoulder as she hugs him tight. He smells nice, the scent of his favourite soap hanging around him, together with that of the leather of his jacket, but this close, he mostly smells of himself.

Without hesitation, he returns her hug, long arms wrapping around her. “We certainly did.”

“Knew it!” With that, she’s off to the next person: Morgan, who is standing with her arms crossed as if that would keep Farah from hugging her. Pffft, as if!

Moving slower and squeezing not quite as much, Farah puts her arms around her.

“I sure as hell did not miss getting my ears blasted out,” Morgan grumbles, letting her arms drop to her sides to relax within Farah’s hold. That counts as a win, for sure.

It leaves only one other person: Adam. He looks about as excited as Morgan at the prospect of a hug.

“You really could do with showing some more enthusiasm.” Farah pauses to give him a once-over. “Think about morale, team spirit. Look at Nate, for example. He made me feel like you missed me and were happy that I’m back.”

Nate gives her a warm smile, proving her point, while Adam frowns, proving her point even more.

“Of course I am glad that you are back. You’re an integral part of our team.”

Farah purses her lips, considering. “You mean that without me, you would be hopelessly lost and all would fall apart?” She claps her hands together. “I’ll take that.”

She encloses him in a hug before he can do something like asking her for a debrief of the mission or, even worse, remember the supply of blood bags she forgot to put in the fridge last time she was at the warehouse. It only takes about a second for Adam to hug her back. He’s a good hugger, if he wants to be, holding her firm but never too tight.

When he lets go, she just manages to catch the dimples in his cheeks before his Commanding Agent mask slips back into place. He really is happy that she’s back. Farah knew that, of course, but it’s still nice to have it confirmed like this.

She looks around at her three teammates—friends—and smiles wide and bright. It’s good to be back home.

*~*~*~*~*

End notes

The one for Mason and Felix is a very broad interpretation of the prompt. It’s not that I think M would never seek out physical affection, but.. Okay, this is where my thoughts get a bit incoherent, but I was thinking about how M turns to sex (and cigarettes) as a way of overstimulating their senses so that the smaller things are drowned out. This is however not them wanting affection. It made me wonder: is there a different, more subtle way they would go for when they are searching for this?

With how strong their senses are, I figured that merely being close to someone, for example being in the same room, would already have a physical affect on them. So, that’s what I was going for here.

Also, I don't think they would be aware they're looking for affection, so it's a good thing F is this sensitive to other people's emotions!

#serenwrites #the wayhaven chronicles #these are a bit rough but eh #you get my badly-translated-to-english expressions haha #no but i really though getting out of bed with the wrong leg was also used in english #turns out it isn't?#getting out of bed on the wrong side doesn't quite have the same ring to it #so now it's F mixing echolian and english

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keyrey · 3 months

Text

ꕥ𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰/ 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢ꕥ

“When my father didn’t have my hand, he had my back.” —Linda Poindexter

■□■(SFW, family headcannon.)■□■

𝓡𝓮𝓭, a testament to never-ending strength and courage. White, a resemblance of peace and purity. Denmark, a hot-ass place to be in the middle of summer, wearing a thick cream colored suit and tie. It’s what you’ve been trying to tell your headstrong, handsome, manly hunk of a husband all evening. Although somehow, you’ve ended up bundled in layers of silk sheets, the orange sun peeking through the sheer curtains, the ever-so-calming timbre of Farum Lake and rustling leaves, cradled warmly in the embrace of the man we all know and love, Kento freaking Nanami.

“I swear I’m gonna break that damn clock one day,” you blurt out before your mind can register what you said. A slight offense on your part—forgetting that the clock you’re so avidly pressed about was Nanami’s grandmother’s, one of the last remnants of her being. Grandpa Soren’s house is the worst place to be in the scorching summer heat. Do you want air conditioning? Buy a water bottle and a bucket of ice. If it weren’t for the croissant bakery, the ice cream truck, and the taco joint down the road, you’d flee right back to good ol’ Ammurica on the first flight available, but… this is one of the sacrifices you have to make when you have a husband, right?

"I love your commitment to destroying antique furniture. Maybe we should replace all our furniture with IKEA next."

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his snarkiness. He does that sometimes, most of the time. “Nanami—” “I apologize.”

“Yeah, you better, fool!” You laugh heartily, chest hurting as you throw a nearby pillow at him. But of course, with his trained Jujutsu reflexes, he dodged it perfectly even though he’s retired.

“Dammit! I will get you next time!” The other pillow you were about to chuck straight into that gorgeous face of his, got halted by the creek of the rusty metal hinges. You both looked, craning your heads to the side.

Slimy fingers which most definitely were coated with snot and boogers trailed up your sides. An ooey, gooey monster? No… just your five year old girl, Jasmine, who runs in the house like she owns the place. You refuse to tell her that one day, she will.

Jasmine held one of those velcro wooden pizza sets that you can mix and match. You guessed it was her favorite feature because it was the only explanation for a pineapple, salmon, mushroom and pepperoni pizza all in one. To make it even better, her slobbery fingers made an excellent argument on why NOT to indulge in this intriguing delicacy. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDYYYYYYY!!!!” Jasmine was your crazy ball of energy, you really have no idea how she is such a contrast to both your and Nanami’s personalities.

Grandpa Soren shuffled into the room, his long beard swinging slightly with each step. Coupled with an angular visage. The lines on his face told stories of loneliness, but his eyes brightened as they took in the sight of his family.

His voice, though worn and gravelly, carried a tender note as he spoke. "I'm sorry," he said, running a hand through his beard, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "She just really wanted to see you on your birthday, Nanami."

Jasmine returned to galloping around the master bedroom like the centaur she is– should be.

"She's too fickle! Slips right out of my hands!" he chuckled, shaking his head in amused resignation.

“How would you all feel about a birthday breakfast in bed, hmm?” Now we’re talking. You were the first to raise your hand, NOT your birthday. Nanami looked at you, a knowing look on his face. A nod of confirmation, and Grandpa Soren is gone, whisked away into the wonders of the kitchen.

The scent of warm pastry dough, buttery and slightly sweet, mingled with the eggs, created an irresistible symphony of smells that tickled the senses.

“Daddyyyyyy!!!! Why not eat my pizza!!!!!?? Is delicious!!!”

She really needs to go back to preschool. You couldn’t hold back your reaction, a fierce chortle, eliciting a brown faux fur pillow right in your face, shutting you up immediately.

Nanami went into full-on dad mode, a mode that even when you two are alone, is hard to turn off. Literally, his pupils dilated fully, looking like a straight up puppy. He seemed to snake off the bed effortlessly and onto the ground, kneeling down to her level. You witnessed his hands tremble in fear as he stuck out the tip of his tongue to taste his daughter’s creation.

“You like? You like, daddy!!???”

He tried his hardest not to break his facade and provided Jasmine with a crooked smile, attempting to hide the sensation of his stomach twitching.

“Delicious, baby. Make Daddy another one?” And thus began the start of a grave mistake that eventually roped you and Grandpa Soren around in it as well. Sour expressions ran through the family. Luckily, you were no longer burning in the heat as Grandpa invested into a fan. You thought you’d never see the day. Only Nanami would risk his life for his daughter’s wooden pizza creations. This is why Nanami is daddy. Our very own daddy.

╰┈➤Banner (Canva rules) ╰┈➤Fanart drawn by yours truly - KeyRey. ╰┈➤Special thanks to @cafekitsune for the divider! ╰┈➤ Extra special thanks to @pseudowho for inspiration to start writing again ahhh! Love your work ❤️

(I don’t know if I was supposed to tag, sorry! New to the unspoken rules of tumblr etiquette 😅😅 >.<)

■□■<Unrelated Teaser for a potential sequel>■□■ An autistic dog accompanied by an autistic girl, an uncalled for turn of events, but my current reality as he shakes in my arms, petrified by the sharp, whirring whistles of red, white and blue. A symbol of bravery, peace and freedom. But we all know expectations and realities provide an unequivocal sense of falseness. Which is why a compressed thunder jacket, warm cozy blankets and bread coated in peanut butter, stuffed with an anxiety pill inside is the way to go.

Extra little note: A few mistakes might've went under my radar when writing this, please don't be afraid to point out corrections! ⇣⇣Real footage of Nanami and his baby⇣⇣

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drivinmeinsane · 1 year

Text

Wild Country (Part 2)

SIERRA SIX × F!READER

Part 1

Part 2 (This one)

Part 3 (coming soon)

*Summary: Six is running on empty in more ways than one when he pulls into that gas station out west. He just wants to make sure he and Claire survive when he does the unexpected and says he'll take on the job as a ranch hand. It was a position offered rhetorically and out of frustration, but damn if he doesn't fit the bill of what you need.

*Content/tags: Slow burn, Pining, Movie canon compliant, No use of Y/N, Cowboy!Six, Adoptive Daughter!Claire, no need to have read the books

*Rating: 18+ for future mature content

*Status: Ongoing

*Author's Notes: The burn is still burning slow, but we're getting there folks.

The drive from their motel to the cattle ranch is a short enough trip, but it's an uncomfortable one. The roads are pitted gravel at best and crater pocked dirt at the worst. Any time he glances over, he can see Claire holding anything she can get her hands on. Hitting one particularly large, unavoidable rut just about knocks the air out of him and causes her to let out a yelp and grab his forearm hard enough to leave the half moon indents of her nails in his skin. He holds back the wince of discomfort.

His grip on the steering wheel loosens in silent relief when he makes the turn onto the winding driveway. They pass a couple rolling acres dotted with horses. Claire has both her hands on the window ledge now, her death grip on Six's arm forgotten as she stares out the window. He hadn't expected her to be captivated by the animals, but he supposes that it's a novel experience for her. Being the niece of a CIA handler and having a heart condition surely led to a mundane life spent locked away. Six feels a pang in his chest when he thinks about Fitz. He should be the one with Claire, not him.

The drive opens up into a dead end parking lot. On his right is a massive barn, on his left are a couple of bunkhouses, but it's straight ahead that catches his attention. You had said to park in front of the large, white house, so he does, pulling right next to a green truck that he had noticed at the gas station. The truck settles into park with the enthusiasm of a reanimated corpse finally allowed to rest again. Six pushes the door open and wrestles it closed behind him. He's greeted by a large, rust colored dog. It stands in front of him, panting expectantly. He ignores it in favor of ducking down to speak into the truck's cabin, one arm casually resting on top of the vehicle.

"Let's go find my new boss."

Claire gives him one of her skeptical looks and shoves her own door open with a dramatic sigh. He's surprised it doesn't fall off its hinges. He feels the dog's hot breath against his knees and inches around the animal to join his adoptive daughter at the tailgate.

"What's the plan? Is there even anyone here? I th-oh!" Her voice cuts off as she spots the dog. She crouches down and enthusiastically starts petting it. He supposes that the dog is pleased with the arrangement if the lolling tongue and kicking back leg are any indication.

He watches on in silence for a moment before he hears banging noises and a loud whinny from the barn. He looks in that direction and gives Claire a quiet "Hey". He makes a gesture for her to follow him when she looks up at him. The dog runs ahead of them as they crunch over the gravel before impatiently doubling back to match their speed.

───※ ·❆· ※───

You're kneeling next to one of your horses when you hear the scuff of feet and scrabbling of dog nails. You finish velcroing the sports medicine boot in place before you stand up. Your mare nudges your arm and snorts when you don't produce a treat despite having a bucket of grain with a few mouthfuls left. You absently run a hand down her face as you turn to face the people coming into your barn.

You're greeted with the sight of the gas station man and whom you presume is the daughter he had mentioned. The ranch dog is wagging his tail furiously as he stops next to the girl, pressing in close for the pets she provides him. He's clearly smitten with her.

"Come on over." You call.

The man, Six, makes piercing eye contact as he approaches. His arms are casually at his sides but there's tension in his broad shoulders. The girl is right on his heels, nearly tripping over both her dad and the dog. She's clearly nervous but there's a look of fascination on her face. Her skin is pale, almost translucent like she hasn't had much sun exposure.

Your prospective ranch hand is a formidable presence up close. He's tall enough that you have tip your head back to make eye contact. You feel a little like an insect under a magnifying glass with the way he stands over you, running analyzing eyes over your face. You brush it off and square up to him like you would to one of your cow horses. You were long since used to winning the respect of larger animals. You weren't about to squirm.

"Sierra." You say, offering your hand.

He takes it immediately, no reservations about the horse sweat and grime coating it. He says your name in the same tone you said his. His hand is warm and calloused in yours. There's strength in his grip that you can clearly feel even from such a brief clasp. You offer the same hand to the girl. She takes it. You give her a smile you didn't give her father.

"Any friend of Winston here is a friend of mine." You say brightly, gesturing down at the dog doing his best to wiggle into the middle of things.

"Must have a lot of friends then." Her response is fast. She's clever, confident through her nerves.

"Surprisingly not. You must be special." You say. "So what's your name, honey?"

"Claire."

There's a sharp intake of air from the man next to her. You cut your eyes at him. There's a flash of worry on his face that gets smoothed over so quickly you almost wondered if you imagined it. Something was off about this situation, but the girl seemed to trust the man implicitly. None of your own instincts were dreaming danger either. Strange. Winston and the mare behind you weren't agitated by his presence either.

"Well, Claire, it's nice to meet you. How about I give you two the tour and we'll go from there?"

Six gives an agreeable nod and his daughter's face lights up. You double check the quick release knot securing your horse to the tie ring. You can feel his gaze like a physical hand on your back. It takes everything in you to not involuntarily shiver under the imaginary weight. You give the black mare a pat that's more reassuring to you than to her before you turn around to meet that heavy gaze head on.

"After you." His voice is like velvet, rich and promising.

You fight down the urge to swallow thickly at the sound of his voice and begin the overview of the property.

───※ ·❆· ※───

He and Claire follow you for the better part of an hour. His eyes tend to wander more towards you than the surroundings you're explaining. There's something appraising in the way he watches you. It's nothing like the looks you've gotten from some of your other ranch hands. Their stares make your skin crawl at times, but his... well, it has you wanting to crawl in an entirely different way.

"How many others are there?"

The question catches you off guard. The three of you are standing in front of the bunkhouse you told him he would be staying in. He's been so silent throughout the tour that you had nearly forgotten what he sounds like.

"There's three. Dallas, Jimmy, and Charles. We had four, but one of them decided to light out about a week ago."

"Why did he leave?"

"Conflict of interests." There's more steel in your voice than you intended, but Six gives an accepting nod and changes the topic.

"What about my daughter?"

"Oh! Right, yes. She'll be staying in the main house with me and Suzanne, the property owner. Claire's a minor and not under contract so I don't want to toss her in with you and the other men. If that's alright with you?"

"Good." His tone is warm. "She has a pacemaker. I worry about her. Having her safe is my priority." He has a softer presence when he speaks about Claire.

"Good dad. I'll introduce you after I put you through your test. As long as you find everything suitable, I'd like to see how you are on a horse."

He agrees, and your small party tramps back over to the barn to where you left your horse waiting patiently. She rumbles when she sees you cross the threshold. Claire's interest is at its peak and she's nearly vibrating.

"Here." You say, pulling a treat out of your pocket. You press it into her hand. "Show her your empty hand and then close your fingers and offer it to her to sniff. If she bumps it with her nose, you can pet her."

She follows your directions to the letter and is soon petting the animal. You beckon her father over closer and step out of the way to give them room to interact with the mare. He's got such a tender look on his face while looking at his daughter that your breath catches for a moment.

"Claire, if you hold your hand out flat and under her nose, she'll take that treat from you now that you've gotten acquainted." Your tone is casual and you avoid looking at the man's face again

"Oh!" She laughs a bit as the horse's whisker's skim over her palm.

"Her name is Belladonna. Sierra, she'll be the horse I test you out on. If everything goes well, the two of you will be partners during the term of your contract."

He nods and that's that. You quickly swap the mare's halter for her bridle and then you and Claire are soon leaning against the indoor area railing watching Six swing a leg over the Quarter Horse's back and settle into the saddle. He rides well enough. You watch him as he urges Belladonna to a walk. His hands are gentle on the reins and he's well balanced in the saddle. He's definitely not spent long hours and days mounted, but he's not the worst you've ever seen ride. Some of your own ranch hands have been hired with a worse seat.

"Bring her to a jog and have her circle those cones." You call to him.

He raises a hand in acknowledgment and clicks to the horse. She tosses her head in excitement and gives a little cowhop. There's barely any movement or surprise from her rider, he's got a natural grace to him that automatically shifts and sways to accommodate the mare's movements. He does what you ask of him and before long you're calling him back over to dismount. His feet barely hit the ground before you're pulling the folded contract out of your shirt pocket. He turns to face you and the two of you both start speaking.

"Are you ready to-"

"I'm not too exper-"

There's a brief silence only accompanied by Belladonna's swishing tail and Winston panting happily as Claire scratches between his ears.

"You go first." Six says, encouragement in his tone.

You take a breath. "If everything is suitable to you, I would like to take you on for the season. I've got the contract right here if you would like to look it over and sign it." You hold you the paper and a pen out to him. He takes both with steady hands.

"He doesn't know how to read." Comes Claire's earnest voice.

Both you and her dad look over to see her face dripping with sincerity. He shakes his head somberly. "Don't tell all my secrets."

You have to stifle a laugh at the two of them. The man quickly scans his blue, blue eyes along the words on the page. He quickly scrawls his signature at the bottom of the page before handing the signed page and the pen back to you.

"I'm yours now."

It sounds like a promise.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Dinner is a singlesidedly noisy affair. The old woman started fussing over the father and daughter from the second you introduced them to her. She doesn't allow for any lulls in the conversation and it really starts to feels like a hostage situation. Six finally begs off with the excuse that Claire needs to go to bed. You spring at the chance to escape and show them to the bedroom that the teen will be staying in.

"If there's anything you need, just let me know." You say before wishing Claire goodnight and going back down the stairs to give them some privacy.

You need to do the dinner cleanup anyway. This old house never got updated with a dishwasher. Suzanne passes you in the kitchen with her eyebrows raised and an amused look on her face. You ignore her pointed look towards the stairs where you can both hear the muffled voice of the man you just hired. You don't want to talk about his presence. You have never let any of the other ranch hands further than the front porch, much less invited them to dinner. Granted, none of the other hands have had a child with them.

You're in the middle of rinsing off a plate when an arm reaches around you to grab the dish towel hanging by the sink. You stare for a second, taking in the rolled up sleeve and flex of his muscles underneath his tattooed skin. You can feel the heat of him against your back and your mouth goes dry. He gently takes the plate from your hands when you go to set it aside and dries it off. The two of you work in comfortable silence only accented by the sounds of water and clink of dishes. You wash and he dries. You savor the glimpses you get of his hands and his strong forearms. His hands are scarred and calloused but the way he uses his fingers is delicate. His pace is unhurried, steady. You sneak a glance at his face and it's relaxed.

Finally, when he's drying the final dish and you've pulled the plug in the sink, you turn to him. There's a breathless moment where the two of you simply look at eachother. Neither of you speak as you show him to the front door. There's a pause on the threshold, and you can visibly see him struggle with himself on what to say. You wait patiently.

"Goodnight." It's low, intimate in the glow of the porch light.

You smile at him for the first time. He doesn't return it but there's a softer curve to his lips when you do.

"Goodnight, Sierra." Your voice comes out quieter, more tender than you had meant. You flush. You hope he can't notice.

He nods, a slow include of his head, and steps out of the doorway and turns to go down the porch steps. You close the door behind him and let out a shaky breath. He is all but a complete stranger. There is no reasonable explanation for you to respond to him the way that you have been since he showed up on the property. Or, if you're being honest with yourself, since you spotted him at the gas station.

He had clearly stuck out as an outsider. A little sweaty and worn. There was pained exhaustion written in the lines of his body and despite your anger over the situation involving your deserting ranch hand, your eye was drawn to him. You watched him analyze his surroundings with a practiced eye and saw his sleight of hand. A desperate man.

You made sure to raise your voice when he came to the register. He focused in on you and your heart lept in your throat when he said he'd do the job. His gaze had been so intense, so hopeful. When he mentioned that he had a daughter, your mind was made up.

You know that you are just going to have faith in him. Somehow he doesn't seem like the kind of man who would fall short.

N E X T.

#sierra six #the gray man #sierra six x reader #self insert #my work #my posts #this entire part had me on the struggle bus #I promise the spice will flow #did my brain short circut and name the dog after one in hannibal? maybe so #Belladonna the horse is based on the one with Ryan Gosling in the GQ photoshoot #ryan gosling character

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nikethestatue · 1 year

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The Paperman

Elriel Month 2023

I don't even know what the prompt is, but I wrote this. Thanks to @gracie-rosee for suggesting Paperman.

It's short and has language.

For A.

Always the man of my dreams

When you know, you know, right?

And I knew.

I knew that the girl with the big brown cow eyes–maybe doe eyes would be more appropriate–would be irreversibly tied to me. In some strange, cosmic way, in that sugary sweet Nicholas Sparks loopy, wordy nonsense, I just felt it. In my gut. My dick. My brain. Don’t want to say heart, but I have to admit, in my heart too.

Brown-eyed girl was the girl.

Only problem is, I didn’t know who the girl with the cow eyes was. Or how to find her.

It was a blustery day, so common in April, in Chicago. The weather playing mind games with the occupants of the city, taunting them with warmth and sunshine in the morning, only to plunge the temperatures to near freezing by the afternoon. Ha. Ha. Ha. Suckers!

I was standing on the CTA platform that morning, opting not to take the car to work, and now berating myself for that. ‘It’s a nice spring day’ they said. ‘A little windy’ they lied. It wasn’t nice and it wasn’t a ‘little windy’. Like a dumbass, I decided to walk to work, and not 3 blocks in, I was fucking freezing. Now, I am a big guy. I am 6”6 (like I said, I am a big guy), and you’d think that big guys, with 4% body fat and a couple of stints in Afghanistan back in the 2000s would be okay with the wind and the cold that was coming off the lake. I don’t know what it was about me–maybe it was that back then, I was in my early 20s, running hot all the time, or maybe it was my huge ass beard, or all the velcro gear that I had to schlep around on my body–but now that I was 34, I sure couldn’t tolerate the cold quite as well as I did back then.

Hence, me standing on the open platform, waiting for the train. Freezing my nuts off.

And then, Miss Thing saunters in. And to me, she is the best thing since…forever. Forget sliced bread. All I hear in my head is ‘Thunderstruck’ by AC/DC. Or AccaDacca as my Aussie friends call it.

So I stand there, in the howling wind, under the shade of the old timey skyscrapers, shivering like a wet poodle in only my suit…and…

I am falling in love.

Like, legit falling in love.

Tumbling.

Because cow-eyes is perfection.

I find myself thinking that she is everything that I’d ever wanted.

I am not a white picket fence kind of a guy, but if there was a girl that i’d trade my loft for, and end up in the suburbs with, mowing the lawn every Sunday and going to Costco to pick up 96 rolls of toilet paper–this is the girl I’d do it for.

I am hoping she is not one for the Costco trips: because if she is perfect, if she is mine, if she is carved out of my own damn rib, if she was placed here, on this platform because she belongs to me, then Miss Cow Eyes isn’t a Costco girl.

But I don’t even care.

I stare like a creeper, because if I close my eyes, I fear that she’d just disappear and I’d have to be committed, due to some intense nervous breakdown, because I let MY GIRL go and didn’t approach her.

Now, here’s where being 6”6 sucks.

Yeah, I got a nice Italian bespoke suit on, and my watch costs more than a house, but I also got neck tattoos, hand tattoos, Freddy Kreuger-level scarred hands, and I am 6”6 and I scare the ladies even on a good day. Yeah, I fucked a lot, still do–though now that I am in love with Cow-Eyes, I am going to be faithful forever–but the girls I fuck(ed) were still cautious, and only found their courage after the help of some alcoholic liquids. They are never disappointed when they say ‘yes’ and take a walk on the wild side with yours truly, but Cow-Eyes doesn’t seem like that kind of a girl.

She is like…pure.

Not sure.

Maybe she is not pure, but she is a good girl.

She’s got a cute pink and gray checkered coat on, she’s got cute white Adidas skater shoes on, cute jeans, and a cute pink beanie, on her extremely cute head. Waves of golden brown hair whip around her perfect face, smacking around the red-painted lips that I am absolutely sure I will kiss one day. And do some other very objectionable, but very hot things with. The sight of her makes me think depraved thoughts, even though she is just standing there, being all cute, clutching a leather folder to her chest. The chest–I also want to do unmentionable things with.

Here I am, suffocating with love and lust, and Cow-Eyes has no idea and the wind is just brutal.

A gust hits us so hard, it almost knocks her off her feet. She takes an awkward Bambi step, trying to hold on to all her crap, and I, being a gentleman and a dick, let her fall right into me. Into my ever-loving arms she stumbles, clutches my biceps with her little hands that have short, imperfect nails, and her sweet Altoids-y breath washes over me, as I hold her up. She smiles at me, all cute and flustered, and I smile like a shark, because I smell the delicious scent of fresh meat. My meat. This will all be mine, very soon.

The rumble of the upcoming train sends me into a sudden panic.

Are we sharing the same train?

Is she hopping on one and I am on the other?

Are we destined to miss each other like two ships in the night? Nope. Not if I have anything to do with it.

Cow-Eyes is blushing like a virgin, touched for the very first time, and I don’t want to let her go, but I also don’t want it to be weird.

It’s already weird, because I am in love with her, and she doesn’t know it. She doesn’t know that she will be in love with me too. Like this is how weird this is–here I am, staring at the future mother of my children (I am hoping for twins, boy and girl, but I am flexible), and the love of my life is trembling in my arms, not knowing that I will be attempting to impregnate her pretty soon (with consent, don’t worry).

The crowds swell and she separates from me, while another gust of wind almost fells us all down. In this instance, all it does is it makes her lose hold on her folder, and out flies a piece of paper that smacks her right in her perfect face.

I am losing her. She is fleeing my arms and I am feeling hollow and fucking empty, like she just tore a piece of my soul and took it with her. Dismayed, I watch her shoulder her way inside the train car, and she gives me a look…And I fucking freeze. Because the look is raw and full of understanding. Like she’d known me all of my life. Like she understands every strand of my being and every fucked up thought in my head. Cow Eyes blink at me, and the doors close and I watch her go. Away. Without me.

I am so discombobulated, I feel as if a limb was severed and her phantom presence is still with me, the scent of perfume and Altoids marks my skin, my shirt, but she is not here.

Dazed. I am dazed and confused, and I watch the train snake forward, feeling like a new bride watching her lover go off to war never to see him again.

Fuck.

How do I find a girl in the city of 5 million?

My girl.

My Cow Eyes.

My beautiful girl who is cute head to toe and who’ll have me as a husband, and will never lose me in the crowd, because she can always spot a 6”6 monstrosity with neck tats.

Now, who is dry humping my leg?

I look down, and there is a piece of paper wrapped around my pant, stuck there and held up by the wind. Thanks buddy! Never loved the wind as much as I love it right now. There is a rowdy looking pigeon that’s eyeing my paper like a bastard, or maybe it’s the remnants of the burrito that someone graciously tossed right on the platform, because throwing it out in a garbage bin is too much work apparently. Anyway, I don’t care, because I beat the pigeon to it and sweep the paper up in my hand, before he flies into my leg like a bull attacking a matador. I nudge the burrito towards him–buon appetito, pal–and look at the paper.

First thing–there is a perfect imprint of my girl’s lovely lips right on the paper. It’s smeared a bit, as she’s been sucki-

Okay, focus. Time for that later. The pouty outline of her lips is pure deliciousness, but I am not after spank bank material right now. Priorities and all.

It’s an invoice of some kind. To a tattoo shop.

What?

My girl looks like she’d faint at the sight of needles, but maybe I am totally misreading her? What if babygirl has a sleeve going? I mean, even I am doubting that this is the case, but why the heck would she have an invoice for some dude named Martin Scalia for $350 from Jade Eyes Tattoo and Piercing Parlour, LTD. Props to the British spelling of ‘parlor’--a classy move–but Jade Eyes??? They literally have some kind of unfathomable connection to Cow-Eyed Girl and they call it ‘Jade Eyes’? Dumb.

I am pensive and kind of an asshole for the rest of the day.

I have Martin Scalia’s invoice sitting on my desk in my office, and I am staring at the slightly smeared lipstick imprint like I am deranged.

I am deranged.

I have an 800 million deal that I am working on, but all I can think of is my girl. I look out at the vast expanse of the city, its skyline dotted with an endless number of skyscrapers, all looking like overly erect dicks, the dickest of which is of course the Trump Tower. And somewhere, in this Forest of Dicks, is my girl. Who is currently not with me, and that’s just throwing me. She should be resting her sweet ass on my lap right now, looking at me adoringly, calling me ‘my love’ or ‘master’ and eagerly thinking of what I would do with her once we get home. Instead, she is gallivanting somewhere unknown to me and it’s irritating as fuck.

My buddy Cass sticks his big head in the door of my office and asks me if I am in love, because I am, apparently, mooney-eyed. He snags a look at Martin’s invoice and the lipstick smear, then grins like an asshole and leaves me be, while whistling ‘Strangers in the Night’. I love him as much as I hate him. But mostly love. I only love two people–Cow-Eyes and Cass.

I am sprinting out of the office and onto the street like a young buck. I am a young buck. Or maybe, a middle-aged buck, but I have a plan and it’s giving me wings. I get into an Uber and we drive all the way to UIC, which, in my opinion, is still a neighbourhood that’s shady as fuck. I hope that my girl is safe walking around here.

The car drops me off at the infamous Jade Eyes Tattoo shop.

I am gonna be honest here, I didn’t give this too much thought.

My brain is so full of my Cow-Eyed girl, that there is absolutely no space left for anything else. Like planning. Like not being a creeper and just barging in. Or considering that she might not even be there. Why would she be? Maybe she is an accountant and this is her client? I guess I can beat the shit out of the tattoo guys and demand to know the whereabouts of their sexy, gorgeous, perfect, incredible, stunning accountant who will be my wife, though I prefer not to go that route. I try to be peaceful. Usually.

Also, she cannot be an accountant.

She is definitely a writer. Yes. She writes dark romances. I can feel it.

So….I actually don’t have a plan.

But I walk in anyway and figure I’d play it by ear.

And there she is. The beanie is off and her golden hair is gilded by the light, gleaming light the sun at dawn.

Those large brown eyes flicker and blink, and she recongises me. The moment is right there. Seared into my memory forever. She blinks. And she knows me. She knows me through time and space, like I know her. She is my girl. It’s inevitable.

When you know, you know. Right?

“Go on a date with me,” I order.

“Okay,” she says.

#elriel-month #elriel #elain x azriel #elain and azriel #pro elriel #my fanfiction #Elriel fanfiction #The Paperman #elriel month #elriel month 2023 #elriel fanfic #azriel #elain archeron #azriel and elain

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cinemastyles-blog · 11 months

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Come On, You Got It.

Summary: an anon request on Wattpad - "Personal trainer Harry???"

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, unprotected sex, oral (both), finishing in readers mouth, fingering, squirting, hair pulling, choking, filth

BOXER HARRY

"Come on, love. Give me a few more then we can take a break." Harry says as he leans around the punching bag, "You got it. Just a few more, please."

You sigh and drops your glove covered hands to your sides, "I'm tired, Harry."

He chuckles at your whining and shakes his head, "Fine. Go get some water."

You smirk as you undo the Velcro with your teeth and it makes Harry's eyebrow twitch. He runs his hand over his face as he walks over to grab his white boxing gloves off of the bench.

You walk over, sitting down as you grab your water bottle. Your eyes stay on him as he moves over to in front of you, "Can you wrap my hands?"

You know damn well Harry can wrap his own hands, but you don't argue. You grab the wrap from his grasp and move his hand to how you want it.

You've been training with Harry for months now, and you kinda of have a thing for him, so you know exactly how he likes it done.

"You're a fast learner." He jokes as his eyes follow your hands. You glance up at him and his eyes meet yours, "Only been doing this for how long."

He smirks as he brings his wrapped hand up, inspecting it, "Damn near perfect."

You scoff, "That is perfect."

"I know." Harry hands you his gloves to help him get them on, "I just like getting you riled up." He winks and you can feel your face get warmer, "Shut up."

"Make me."

Your head snaps upward and you sigh, "I could kick your ass any day." You squeeze your water bottle, squirting water in your mouth.

He watches as water dribbles down your chin and he quickly wipes it away with his thumb, "I'd like to see you try."

——

"Come on, y/n." Harry walks around the bag, admiring your punches, "You got it. Jab cross, jab cross cross." He nods in approval and grabs the bag, holding it still.

You step back, wiping sweat from your forehead onto your arm, "How was that?" He leans out around and smirks, "Good, that was good. But.."

You tilt your head as you take your gloves off, "What?"

He steps out from behind the bag and crosses his arms, "Still don't think you can beat me."

You raise your eyebrows, "Mm. I see."

"What?" He laughs as you walk to grab your water, "Come on. Loser buys dinner."

You turn to look at him before putting your gloves back on, "You are so on, Styles."

He grabs his gloves, putting them back and walking over to the mat, "C'mon." You smirk as you walk over, standing infront of him, "Ready to lose?"

He tilts his head and shrugs, "I should be asking you that."

You both get ready, moving around in a circle as you wait for your moment to strike. You used the combos that you learned today and end up popping him right in the nose.

By total accident.

"Oh my god.. are you okay?" You rest your glove over your lips as you step towards a doubled over Harry, "Hey I'm so- whoa!" You let out a slight scream as Harry flips you, pinning you to the ground.

His body is slightly pressing against yours and you look at him from over your shoulder, "Hey now."

He rolls you over onto your back and pins your arms down by your biceps, "Hey now." He says in a mocking tone which makes you laugh.

His eyes move over your face as he licks his lips and smiles, "So whats for dinner?"

"A knuckle sandwich if you don't let me up." You fight back a smirk but fail as he helps you stand up. You take your gloves off and unwrap your hands as you think, "Whatever you want is fine with me."

He nods, "I'll think about that while I shower."

You bite your lip and nod as you bend down to grab your bag, "Alright." You look at him with a smile before you disappear into the locker room to shower.

The whole time, the thought of you and Harry being the only ones in the gym settles into your mind.

You push them away but each time they come back, they're stronger and dirtier than the last.

You walk out, drying your hair off with a towel.

"About time." Harry says with an over exaggerated groan, "I'm starving out here." You laugh, "Sorry. I wanted to make sure I didn't stink like sweat."

He laughs, "Girls and their long ass showers."

"Hey. Can't hate it if you haven't tried it."

"What? A shower with you?" He raises his eyebrows and it causes you to stumble over your words, "Wh- no i di- not what I meant, Harry."

"Again. I just like to get you going." He chuckles and throws his bag over his shoulder, "I just have to stop over here at my office quick, so just give me a sec."

I nod and follow him over, watching as he sits down at his desk. His fingers tap the top as he tries to remember why he went in there.

"What are you looking for?" You ask as you lean against the door frame. He blows out air and leans back in his chair, "Come here."

Your heart starts beating fast as you step in and walk over to him, "What's up?"

He bites his lips and looks up at you, "So.." he laughs slightly and shakes his head, "Nothing, we can, uh. We can just go get dinner."

He stands up and you put your hand on his chest, "No. Finish what you were going to say."

He looks down at your hand planted flat on his chest and back up to you, "I want you."

His words make you freeze for a moment, but only because you were sure if he'd ever go for you, he is your trainer and all.

"Really?" You bite your lip and slowly slide your hand down his chest, slipping your fingers into the band of his shorts, "Because I want you, too."

In a quick motion, he spins you and sets you on his desk, "Glad we feel the same." He pulls your shorts and panties to the side, slowly slipping two fingers into you as he watches your face scrunch up with pleasure.

He slides his other hand up and grabs the back of your neck, "You're so fucking hot." He crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing your moans as he thrusts his fingers in and out quickly.

"Fuck, fuck. Yes yes yes." You whine out as you push your chest forward.

"Fuckin' hell. Thats it, baby." Harry groans as he watches the liquid drip from his hand and off your body onto the floor, "Never had anyone do that before."

He looks at you with a proud expression, "That was fucking perfect." His lips find their way to yours but he quickly kisses down your next and drops to his knees with a grunt, "need to see if you taste as sweet as you look."

He hooks his arms under your thighs, holding your shorts and panties to the side as he just goes for it. You throw your head back, moaning as you rest your hand on the back of his head, "Fuck, Harry."

He hums as he works his tongue in and out of your pussy, causing you to gasp and move your hips forward, "Shit, h-Harry."

Your legs lock over his shoulders and he has a tight grasp on your thighs keeping them spread as he devours you.

"I'm gonna cum.." you announce in a breathless whisper, "Shi-" you let out a loud moan, knocking stuff over as you grasp the edge of the desk.

Harry continues to eat you out through the high of your orgasm, causing your legs to shake and jolt with each time his nose bumps your clit.

He leans back, looking up at you as he continues to grip your thighs, "You taste heavenly, baby."

He moves one leg off your shoulder, kissing up to your knee as he sets it down and he gives your other leg the same treatment before standing up.

He slips his shirt off, now, you've seen Harry shirtless multiple times, but it never fails to take your breath away.

You lick your lips, still panting from the tap orgasms back to back, "You are so fucking hot."

He smirks as he pushes his sweats down, "Yeah?"

You nod and reach out for him to come closer. He smiles and moves in, resting his thumb and pointer on your chin, "Pretty sexy yourself, love."

You slip your fingers into the band of his boxers as he kisses you. You slowly pull them down and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping slowly as you make out.

"Gonna get it wet for me?" He asks smirking against your lips. You smirk back and nod, "Of course."

He steps back, helping you down off the desk before he rests against the desk. You kiss down his chest, over his torso, and down the one v-line until your chin rests on his cock.

You plant little kisses from the base of his cock to the tip and wrap your lips around. Harry is in awe watching you so what you're doing, he doesn't say another word.

He just moans, slightly loud as you start bobbing your head in a steady rhythm. His hand rests gently on the back of your head, but pushes every so often to tell you he wants you to take him all in.

You take a deep breath through your nose and relax as much as you can before sinking your head all the way down on him.

"F-fuck, thats.." he groans and tilts his head back, "That's it."

You pull off, a string of saliva connecting you to his cock from your bottom lip. He looks down, bringing his hand around to swipe it away, "Up."

You move to your feet and he pulls you into him, kissing you roughly as he spins you around, planting you on the edge of his desk, "Thought about this the moment I seen you throwing those punches."

You smile and bring one foot up to rest on the desk, "Mm." He pushes your shorts and panties to the side and nods, "You're a fucking natural out there."

His compliment makes you blush slightly but that's quickly forget as he slips the head of his cock past your folds and into you. You gasp, digging your nails into his shoulder, "Harry."

He licks his lips before parting them, watching as his cock disappears inside of you fully. Your eyes roll shut and you moan out at him stretching you, "So big."

He smirks and grabs a handful of your hair, "You like that, huh?"

You try to nod, but the grip Harry has makes you unable to, "So fucking much."

He pulls his cock out slowly before thrusting back in, quickly building up to a harsh, but very pleasurable speed.

"Fuck." Harry groans and grips your throat with his other hand and pushes his cock fully into you, "You're going to make me cum."

That comment makes you feel incredible.

He shakes his head, smiling as he leans down to kiss you. His hand that's holding your hair, moves to hook under your thigh, bringing it up to his bicep.

He starts thrusting again, squeezing your throat slowly as he watches your face, "Does that feel good?" He rests his forehead against your temple and you whimper out a quiet, "Mhm."

"Where do you want me to cum?" He leans back, letting go of your neck, "I'm close." His thrusts slow down a little and you lay a hand on his arm that's holding your leg, "Mouth."

He moans as he pictures you on your knees, cum on your tongue and he pulls out, "Fuck, okay. Okay."

You move down to the floor, resting on your calves as you stick your tongue out, waiting for him. He jerks his cock a few times, moaning out as he watches it pool onto your tongue, sliding back towards your throat.

"Such a pretty girl." He breathes out and taps his cock on your lips as you close them to swallow. He stares down at you, smirking as you stick your tongue back out to show him that it's gone.

"Dirty girl, too." He smirks and rubs your cheek with his thumb, "Come on. I'll buy dinner tonight." He winks and helps you stand up.

He pulls you in by your waist and kisses you. You smile and laugh slightly against his lips, "Before we do that, I need to change."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckle, "Why's that?"

You roll your eyes and push his shoulder gently, "You know exactly why, Mr. Styles." You walk over and grab your bag, shuffling through to grab a new pair of panties and shorts, "Could have just taken them off."

He shrugs, "I'll take them off next time."

——

Thank you for the request and thank you for being so patient. Hope you liked it!

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thetomorrowshow · 6 months

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glass and grey hoodies

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

mind the content warnings on this one, folks. in an altered mental state, jimmy attempts suicide several times in the first portion of the fic. the rest of it is an account of his time in the psych ward.

this story takes place between chapters 9 and 10 of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: past abuse, suicide attempts, blood and injury, hospitals, flashbacks

It’s loud.

It’s loud, and his head hurts, and he doesn’t know where he is and he doesn’t like it.

He opens his eyes to see blurry white walls. Figures standing over him. The pinch of a needle in his arm. An ache that spreads from his neck all the way to the tips of his toes.

He’s back on the table, then.

He doesn’t remember what happened before now, but he knows what this means. If he’s back on the table, something bad happened. If he’s back here. . . .

He suddenly knows. They’re going to take it away.

He’d misbehaved enough that they’re going to take away whatever they put in him all that time ago, whatever it is that lets him control his powers and makes his life the least bit livable. And it’s his fault.

He knows what he has to do, then. He can’t go back to that.

The scientists know he’s awake, he thinks, but either they don’t care or they want him awake, because no one reacts to him looking around, taking stock of things the best he can.

There’s some sort of surgical instrument on a rolling table near his left arm. Something sharp. Something that, if he can sit up quickly, he can reach.

He does a little test of his stomach muscles, tensing them and moving as if to sit up. Painful, but certainly doable.

He has to do it now, then. Before it’s too late.

He sits up, and maybe it’s a bit slower than it should be, because there’s a rubber glove of a hand pressing into his shoulder, loud words that he doesn’t understand—but he isn’t slow at all when he grabs the sharp tool and plunges it into his gut.

He wakes up again later, still bleary and with a stabbing pain in his lower stomach.

Funny, he thinks. He did stab himself, after all.

The problem is, however, that he survived. He didn’t mean to survive. He meant to be completely out of this world, away from the lab, away from the scientists, away from his master and all the blood he’s spilt.

Luckily, the room is empty. He’s sure it won’t be soon, not now that he’s conscious.

It’s not easy for him to sit up. It’s even more difficult for him to stand, going all lightheaded and woozy from pain.

So, pretty much the norm.

There’s scissors on the counter that lines the right side of the room, no other potentially dangerous items in sight. He glances toward the clear glass sliding door. The curtain in front of it is pulled back, and anyone walking by could see him.

He hobbles to the counter, stuck by a tugging in his right arm that he realizes is because it’s hooked up to some machine of some sort. It luckily has wheels, so he pulls it along a few steps until he can reach the scissors.

His hand is firm when he starts slashing the blades across his wrists.

He wakes up restrained after they knock him out again.

He doesn’t like that at all.

Restrained means velcro around his wrists, holding him to the hospital bed. Restrained means quiet sobs as he pulls against them. Restrained means wishing over and over that he hadn’t failed, because now he won’t have another opportunity.

However, they don’t really . . . do much to him. Someone in scrubs comes by every so often, asks him a bunch of questions that he doesn’t care to listen to, and writes things on a dry erase board on the wall. A man sits beside him, also in scrubs, scrolling through his phone and lazily eating a bag of chips.

And that’s it, for a while. He even stops crying out of confusion, just lies there and stares at the ceiling. He’s good at that.

He realizes, eventually, that he’s wearing something like a big t-shirt, but the back feels uncomfortably open. Maybe some sort of sheet with sleeves? It’s got little green clovers as a pattern, and he stares at it for far too long, knowing he hasn’t seen anything like it in all his time here.

The next thing he realizes is that he isn’t wearing a mask. That almost gets him crying again, but he’s overwhelmed by hopelessness before he can even start. What’s the point? Really, he doesn’t belong to himself, doesn’t exactly have a life of his own. This was the natural next step. It’s not like he had any sort of ownership over the mask.

The man beside him talks sometimes, but he’s too out of it to understand. He’s too out of it to process much, really.

He just lies there, drifting in and out of consciousness, dreading the moment the pain will truly start.

It’s late, he thinks, when he feels like his head has finally cleared a little bit—the man beside him is now a sleepy woman, and the lights in the room are dimmed, curtains drawn.

If he does this right, he might get another chance.

It takes a while to get any sort of adrenaline built up, but once he has some sort of spark going, he aims it at the restraint on his left arm. After a moment, the plastic part of the velcro snaps and his hand is free.

The woman looks up at the noise so he doesn’t move, leaving his hand in the velcro as if nothing has changed. After a moment, she returns to the book she’s reading.

The dressings on his right arm should be easy to get through—it’s the type with the cloth tape, the stuff that rips off quick. And underneath is a thin tube, which presumably has a hidden needle.

His next moves are fast. He pulls his hand free of the velcro, tears off the dressing, and yanks out the IV line, the machine suddenly beeping very loudly. He jabs it back into his arm—no needle. Where’d the needle go? Is it in his arm?

There’s got to be another needle—he checks the rolling table still beside him, but of course they haven’t left any sharp items out, they’re learning—

And then his left arm is being pulled back down and held there while another woman rushes into the room.

“You’re at the E. James Hospital in Empires City,” a strange woman tells him, and he doesn’t think he can be blamed if he doesn’t believe her. She waits a moment longer, then sighs and writes something on the whiteboard.

When she moves, he can see it. Unresponsive, she’s written.

“You may be feeling a little funny for a while,” she continues. “We’ve got you on some anti-anxiety medication, and it takes a little bit to adjust. Does that make sense?”

Well, it explains how numb he feels. He stares at her, trying to understand her place here.

“We’ll send in someone from psych to evaluate you later on today, but until then, Anthony is going to be here with you. Anthony, could you wave?”

A man—the same man from earlier—waves from the chair in the corner. He doesn’t say anything.

The woman says some more stuff, but he doesn’t take it in. He’s not even entirely sure that he’s conscious.

All he knows is that if he tries, he can shatter that glass canister of cotton balls on the counter. And some of the glass shards are likely to be sharp.

The person from psych is nice enough. She introduces herself, but he doesn’t catch the name. She asks him how he feels. She unstraps his left arm when he doesn’t answer and asks him to point at the scale of one-to-ten faces paper that she pulls out of a binder.

He points at the seven, the face that’s orange and frowning. She then shows him a poster that has emotions written on it, attached to images of kids acting out those emotions. She asks him to point to the emotions he feels right now.

This is the first moment when he starts to wonder if maybe he isn’t in the lab. Maybe the woman from earlier wasn’t lying.

The emotions on the poster aren’t complex enough to describe how he feels, but he eventually points at ‘confused’.

He’s not entirely sure what she says after that—he has vague flashes of her asking him to write something, and him not even looking at her (pets can’t write, who does she think she is?) before she leaves, writing a string of numbers on the whiteboard, then using a magnet to pin a list there.

He’s alone, if only for a moment.

She hadn’t left his arm unstrapped—she’s not stupid—but he can break the straps without issue. One splits down the middle, one just cracks enough for him to tear it the rest of the way.

He’s more steady than he was last time. And somewhere, deep down, he knows that they won’t give him the opportunity again. They want him alive.

This is his last chance.

It takes one touch for the glass canister on the counter to shatter. He picks up the largest shard, pauses as he aims it first at his wrist, then at the inside of his elbow as the bandages at his wrist deter him.

There’s an artery in the thigh, isn’t there? And his thigh is practically bare, due to the shirt-thing he’s wearing.

Wait. Is he . . . is this a hospital gown?

He stabs the glass into his thigh. It doesn’t go as deep as he would’ve liked, but it hurts like the devil, breaking through the numb state of his mind.

For a moment, he panics. That’s a lot of blood spilling out over his fingers, his grip on the glass slippery. He doesn’t want to die, does he?

But he has to get out. He can’t live in this place any longer. He can’t take it, can’t be a pet for the rest of his life, can’t kill person after person at the whim of a maniac—

He digs the glass in further, and feels his head go fuzzy before his vision blacks out and he crumples to the floor.

For a long time, life passes from blur to blur. He’s aware of what’s going on, he knows he is. He recognizes that the drugs are upped, that he’s a high-risk case and there’s always someone at his side. He hears when they tell him that his wounds are healing well and he’s gained a bit of weight, so they’re sending him on a seventy-two hour hold to the psych ward. They tell him he’ll be safer there.

He floats by all these blurry moments, crying one moment and unresponsive the next. The day they put him in a wheelchair and take him away is a day where he can barely feel anything, thoughts slower than molasses crawling down the side of a bottle.

When he arrives, they don’t give him much. A room. With a roommate. Some clothes.

He doesn’t really process any of it. He just lies on the bed and stares at the ceiling. He takes things that are offered to him—pills, food, water. When a voice tells him to shower, he obediently gets up and limps to the shower. When a voice tells him to go somewhere, he follows them and sits in that place until he’s led back to his room.

He’s not sure how long he’s there before things really start to register, but it starts with his roommate’s voice.

“Are you ever gonna stop being a zombie? When they told me you were a suicide risk, I thought you’d be way more exciting.”

He blinks.

“What?” he croaks, because that really is a weird thing to regain awareness to. His roommate laughs, and it’s a laugh that he recognizes as somewhat sad.

“Yeah, it’s okay, half the people here act real weird for the first couple of days on the meds. That’s what my last roommate told me, anyway. I’ve only been here for a week.”

He doesn’t remember much. But he knows now, with a strange clarity, that the horrible detached memories of that place from before are not of the lab. This may all be a dream, but he hasn’t been taken back to that place.

Taken back? When did he leave?

They call him TJ, for some reason. Drugged-up him had been happy to accept that, not really sure that there was another option.

But he’s TJ now, and that’s okay.

Josh (his therapist, who is actually really nice) explains to him, in as little detail as possible, what happened when it becomes clear that he’s confused.

Josh tells him that they know he’s the Canary, that he was rescued by a group of heroes and that Xornoth is dead.

Maybe it’s still the drugs working, but he doesn’t feel much more than a small sense of vindication at learning that. Not that he believes it at first, of course, but Josh explains at length the various pieces of evidence for him actually being here.

He doesn’t really believe that either, not until the next day, when he is suddenly vividly eating green beans in a common room, a dead-eyed woman eating the same beside him.

And Jimmy’s properly here, and he knows he’s here, and he wants to cry from the relief of it. Because that means it had all been real, and Xornoth’s dead, and he’s out.

He’s been rescued. He’s alive.

Maybe he does cry, a little. No one judges him.

Josh is proud of him for having that breakthrough. Unfortunately (or fortunately, according to Josh, despite their emotional exhaustion), that breakthrough is just the first in a line of many.

It feels wrong to talk. He hasn’t willingly spoken in close to a year, and it’s definitely taking some getting used to—but it’s really the easiest of his issues. He still thinks of himself as a pet, he still expects punishment at the slightest provocation, he struggles to remember to walk instead of crawl and sit on chairs—and each of those come with a plethora of their own issues, such as the hour he spent sitting at the feet of a nurse, the closest figure of authority he could find.

He knows he locked away a part of himself, compartmentalized his brain until he could truly be subservient for his master. But reintegration is difficult, and scary, and Josh is his only guide.

“I know I’m in here,” he tells Josh one day, his quiet, raspy voice not an adequate instrument for conveying just how frustrated he feels. He picks a bit at his sweatpants, not quite daring to look Josh in the eye. “I can remember. I know I’m different. Supposed to be different.”

“That’s a very normal feeling for those who have been under the influence of a telepath for a long time,” Josh says gently, and Jimmy just . . . doesn’t bring up that he wasn’t. He knows it’s lying, and he knows it’s wrong, but someone had given him that cover story and it somehow kept him from going to jail, so he’s keeping it.

“Is there anything I can do for you right now?” asks Josh not ten minutes later, when it becomes clear that Jimmy isn’t going to say anything else.

And there is something he wants, actually. The only way to find out is by asking, and he knows logically that Josh isn’t going to hurt him for such a request, but he can’t shake the fear.

“Long sleeves?” he whispers eventually, and he doesn’t miss the way Josh’s eyes fall to the word scarred on his left arm.

“We can do that,” Josh says. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I actually saw a nice hoodie the other day while out shopping, so I can pick that up on my way home tonight. They’ll take out the drawstring, if that’s all good. Or do you want, like, a long-sleeved shirt?”

“Hoodie,” Jimmy says, not wanting to cause more of an inconvenience.

The next day, he’s got a grey hoodie, a little large (but everything hangs loose on him) and without drawstrings.

He wears it every day.

Jimmy knows he’s getting better, even if it’s frustratingly slow. Josh helps him map out his progress one day, reminding him that he went from nearly vegetative to actually asking for what he wants.

Sure, he doesn’t really eat the way they want him to (he’s always got one of those terribly chalky protein shakes in hand now), but he’s trying. He wants to eat more, and he always tries to get at least a bite down at every meal (they’re too frequent, too regular, he never gets to eat that much there must be a catch).

And of course, all of his other problems that he hates to get into. Problems that have him changing bandages around his wrists and stomach and thigh. Problems that leave him crying on the floor at random times, mourning pieces of himself that he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get back.

But, like Josh says, he’s getting better. He’s really starting to think for himself again.

Until it all seems to reverse.

One day, he’s fine. He talks about a happy memory (as few as they are) with Josh. He’s brave enough for the first time to actually venture out into the common room, play a game of Battleship with his roommate Peter. He actually considers joining the group therapy session when it rolls around. He eats half his meal at dinner that night. He takes his evening pills without complaint and sleeps through some of the nightly checks.

The next day, everything is wrong.

The next day, Jimmy collapses on his cell—bedroom—on the floor of the place where he sleeps, certain that there are people surrounding him and grabbing at his clothes and pulling on his hair and he thought he was safe, they told him he was safe—

And then he’s back, Peter shaking him and calling for help.

It keeps happening after that. He can’t go more than an hour or so without believing he’s back there, without being strapped to a table or kicked by a heavy boot or having knives thrown at him. Each time he comes back to reality, he’s more exhausted and scared than before.

Josh calls them flashbacks, and as soon as Jimmy hears the word he knows it’s right. He has one during therapy (he’s so hungry, he was left here for hours with no one and nothing and it’s a test, he knows it’s a test), and when he comes to, he’s laid out on the couch with Josh speaking quiet words of reassurance.

“Sorry,” he mutters roughly, and Josh just shrugs and gives him a list of grounding activities, and breathing exercises for homework (not that he has a home to take it to).

It doesn’t work, though. It should work, and it doesn’t, because half the people here dress like they’re from the lab. The whole place smells like a hospital, sterile and awful. He’s alone—Peter had gone home that day. It’s just him, in a white room, and he’s fine by himself, he’s always been by himself, but he can’t help but think that maybe, if his caretakers had put a bit of thought into it, they wouldn’t have left him on his own. Not that he’s going to try again—he wants to be here, to some extent, he thinks—but he’s been alone for so very long and he can’t control what he does while in a flashback.

He tells that to Josh—Peter had apparently been here for a longer period of time than expected, struggling to handle an eating disorder, but had finally been deemed well enough to return to his life (with constant check-ins and therapy appointments). And while that was all good for him, there don’t seem to be any other viable roommates at the moment—those safe to share already have roommates, but Josh assures him that he’s first on the list for either a new admittance or a leftover patient when their roommate leaves.

Jimmy has another flashback that session, one of a noose around his throat that he is being forced to tighten. He doesn’t know where he is afterwards, or what’s going on, and a smiling man with dark hair who smells funny leads him to a bed and gives him a pill to swallow. Jimmy doesn’t care if it’s going to kill him. He swallows it, and falls asleep shortly after.

The days go on like that. Jimmy wakes up, struggles through a day lived half in the past, at some point panics badly enough that he has to be drugged to sleep, and so on. His eating habits slowly go downhill, only managing half of the daily protein shake that he’d always pushed to finish before.

And he’s really, genuinely trying—on days when he can find his voice, he talks in therapy. He starts attending group therapy, even if he only listens. He sits in the common room and watches TV with other patients as often as he can drag himself there. He tries to eat every meal, tries to talk to other people, tries to get better.

It’s those vile flashbacks throwing a wrench in everything, of course. One day during therapy, Josh theorizes that the flashbacks are so frequent and so awful due to a constant trigger, and when Jimmy wryly points out that he has a lot of trauma around medical situations, Josh grimaces and tells him to keep a trigger journal.

Which only serves to prove what Jimmy had suggested. His most common trigger is the smell of rubbing alcohol or hand sanitizer, as far as he can tell. And right after that is the sound of someone snapping on a pair of rubber gloves. Things aren’t looking all that hopeful until one day in therapy, when Josh mentions a very familiar name.

Jimmy’s drawing during the conversation, little squiggles and spirals around various words—emotions, mostly. It’s something that Josh had introduced fairly early on, a place for him to identify his emotions without getting too far in his head trying to think about them. Here, he can just write them down and move on with the knowledge that what Josh just said makes him feel anxious, or sad, or angry. And then, Josh can ask why that statement made him angry, and it’s easier to explain with a marker doodling in his hand.

“Now, TJ, I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but Major made arrangements for you to be here.”

That draws Jimmy up short. His marker point bleeds into the paper as he looks up, forces himself to speak. “Um—but, the hospital—with the, uh, the hold—”

“Right, but Major had been in brief contact with them—along with some other important people, I’m sure—to make sure you got the help you needed. He offered to take care of any bills, I think.”

Jimmy bites his lip, jots down a quick ‘anxious’.

“He wanted to make it clear that you don’t owe him anything,” Josh says, clearly noticing what Jimmy’s written. “And I know that for a fact—I talked with him yesterday. I asked if he would meet with you, and he said yes.”

And if that doesn’t send his blood pressure through the roof.

What on earth does Major want with him now? To make sure he’s mentally okay before sending him to prison?

Not that that’s turning out very well for him so far.

“I think meeting with Major might help you get a proper goal,” Josh hints, and Jimmy frowns. This whole time, Josh has been on him about getting a goal. Doesn’t he realize that Jimmy hadn’t expected to survive? Doesn’t he realize that Jimmy was stuck with no future but the one that Xornoth had planned for him, that he’d been willing to kill himself to escape it and it’s a little difficult to regain his footing after that?

“It’s up to you, but I think talking with Major will help a lot. I think he’ll be able to open up some opportunities for you.”

Well. It’s not like he has much else to do, does he?

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #jimmy solidarity #empires superpowers au #esh au #mas writes #031224 #monthly reminder that i am not back yet #if i was back i'd delete that tag #i really didn't want to edit this one bc it's another of the heavy kind #the type that's just sort of emotionally exhausting to work on yk?#so if the editing is a bit lacking that's why #i really just skimmed it #in the main story we already vaguely know what happened in this fic #this is just the description of all of it from jimmy's pov rather than just what we had heard #in bits and pieces #lmk what you think!#love you guys

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