#which he could be doing anyways just not in front of you

[itachiiwrites]

𐙚 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄¡!

cw. 18+ flithy smut, Sub!Gojo, Dom!Reader, Enemies to lovers, gojo is a virgin and the word loser is used a lot.

AcademicRival!Satoru believed he'll have a merry time getting paired with you for your upcoming assignment, afterall, you were fun to pick on and he adored the way the vein would pop on your forehead after he says something to completely throw you off the tracks. His plan was to make you do all the work while he gets on your nerves to pass his time.

Satoru prides himself in being jack of all trades, he's the captain of the collegiate basketball team, student body president, has 4.0 GPA in his astrophysics major and is on the dean's list, his stunning good looks were to kill for and to add to those never ending positive attributes he's filthy rich, if it wasn't so obvious by his sports car's raging engine whenever he drifts it around in the campus. Gojo Satoru was a star. Gojo Satoru was game.

Admirers and people lining up for him was no big of a deal, it is the routine when you're him. You're one of the many people who find him fascinating, find him attractive (which was something you would never admit to, even if a ceiling fell over you) but still, why was he shaking his legs underneath the table while he watches the furrow of your brow focused on the screen in his dorm room? He's way too distracted to read this paper about Aesthetics and Marxism—he only took up sociology because it was a humanities requirement within his course and also because he was utterly, out of his mind bored.

Feeling the burning gaze of his abnormally blue eyes, you slam your fist onto the table and anyone who was in their right mind would be able to decipher that your expression was twisted in unfiltered annoyance, the mask of a small, pleasant smile as your veins popped on your forehead was failing miserably. "We could get a lot done if you didn't think this was a staring contest"

"Wow, really? I did think it was a staring contest with how boring all this is" He mocked knowing it would only agitate you further, his eyes shamelessly trailed over the plushness of your thighs and how the skirt fabric sat on top of it, his thoughts were digressing, wondering about the colour of your pant—

"What are you looking at, pervert..?" You point it out to break the unholy chain of his thoughts immediately, his eyes widened by being caught off-guard, evading away to focus on the papers in front of him, lasering his eyes to aim at understand at whatever 'Russian constructivism' meant, his fist gripped the pencil tighter and tighter as he felt unbelievably panicked at being caught, the trance of embarrassment breaking away along with a sharp 'snap' of the pencil.

With a faltering attempt to maintain his cockiness, Satoru looked at you. "Just looking at how much of a loser you look, even broke a pencil because it's annoying how nerdy you dress" a painful roll of his eyes followed by, but his ventures to cover the way he felt were too poor and what was the parameter? The goddamned seductive smile on your pretty lips.

Gojo Satoru was game, but he was a fucking virgin.

"Lying is not going to save your ass, I can literally see the tent in your pants, what are you..a teenager..?" The mockery in your eyes and the superiority you had over him in that very moment was enough to make him let go of his guards and feel his knees buck. You were beautiful and he was so pathetically down bad for that.

"Unlike you, I have many things to excel at..who has time for something as stupid as this anyway" You had to give some kudos for the fact that his voice remained balanced despite the throbbing erection in his pants, and you made a face with slanting pursed lips that was to show him you believed him, although anyone could tell you didn't.

"what is with that face? You think you're better than me? What do you know about sex, having your cute nose burried in those stupid books all day.." And that statement makes you raise your brow, Satoru Gojo, called you cute? This was something, this was when he knew he messed up and you had all the power.

"Why don't I show it to you then? You wanna be a loser in this one area? Come on.. you're better than that, right?" Satoru gulped, the offer was beyond tempting, all those fantasies he ran his mind for while wrapping his hand around his cock in his dark dorm room, relieving himself while yearning for the warmth for your mouth and cunt—finally had the chance to be fleshed out to life. It was tempting indeed but what about his ego?

"Sure, I bet you suck at this too" He huffed a laugh with his faux confidence, only to be miserably proved wrong within a few minutes.

"Please— fuck! Your mouth feels so good.." He breathed heavily with an almost violent rise and fall of his chest, his legs sprawled wide as he was on the couch of his room and you, his beautiful arch-nemesis was skillfully using his cock like it was your personal toy. Satoru didn't feel he was being sucked off for his pleasure, he was being sucked off to be proven of the fact that you were in control here.

He reached his trembling hands to tangle within your locks as you let a thick glob of your spit fall onto his tip with a grin, tantalisingly rubbing it on your glossed lips. "Better than your stupid fist right?" And he moans at that degradation, his eyes marbeling with glassy tears, your pride swelled more than anything.

"Ever seen tits in real life? Or are you that much of a loser to have Inoue Waka as your wallpaper.." You teased further, unbuttoning your blouse and unfastening your bra from the front to spill out your breasts and Satoru's brain simply short circuits the moment the cushiness of your tits gather around his cock and he feels the tightening sting on his abdomen, dripping out loads of his cum onto your tits, painting you like the masterpiece you were with thick ribbons of his ejaculate.

You hum, licking a long strip from his base, swirling your hot tongue around his softening, sensitive frenum as he is limp by the pleasure.

"There's no way you're this good.." He spoke, almost sounding as if something unbelievable happened, almost angry.

"Such a good boy 'Toru.." You giggle in response, kissing his abdomen and he feels pathetically, helplessly in love with you.

Gojo Satoru was game, but you were a roulette.

[thewitchblue]

"What are you doing?"

Damian asked you as you bandaged his wounds from patrol. You were knelt in between his legs with all the various medical supplies needed on a nearby table. You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Tending to your wounds? Giving Alfred a break from fretting over you?"

He pursed his lips at your sarcastic questions before clarifying,

"Why are you kissing the bandages?"

You looked confused for a moment before remembering nobody ever kissed his wounds or really even bandaged him. He was required to learn his own first-aid.

"My family kissed the bandages to 'seal the wound.' It's a stupid way to wish for you to get better soon."

Damian seemed hilariously sceptical about the tradition, but you continued to kiss each wound despite his confusion. He wouldn't say it, but he secretly savoured each kiss. The location didn't matter. Every injury location got a kiss and a loving smile. He said after a few more kisses,

"You don't have to kiss my wounds."

You gave an acknowledgement hum, before you said,

"Well, I want to. You are going to be dealing with this for as long as I'm yours. You deserve the love, my heart."

You gave his hands kisses. He tsked to hide his embarrassment. He had never experienced this before. This was the first time you offered first-aid after a mission. You figured it would be simple after watching Alfred do it for months.

Damian frowned but allowed you to continue. He was still not used to your overwhelming unconditional love and all the warm fuzzy feelings that come with you around even after a year of dating. You were the first one to make the move and the first one who continues to guide him through the world of love.

"I suppose I'll allow it."

He grumbled. You both could tell he wasn't disgruntled in the slightest. He was just acting grumpy in front of his family as a defence mechanism. He had no family to fight with before he was brought to his father's and still struggles with making ties. He struggles to trust his family, which you both are working through together. He struggles at times to feel familial love after going so long without it. Jason, his most common enemy, is in the area, cursing at every stitch Alfred put along his ribs.

Damian snickered slightly. It was a completely avoidable wound. Todd was sloppy in his defence, and Damian was too far away to deflect the blade. Jason asked gruffly,

"What are you laughing at, demon?"

You gave Damian a look that told him to play nice, but he didn't want to. You tightened your grip on his thighs to prevent him from moving towards Jason. Realistically, there was no way you'd be able to hold him back, but it was a reminder to stay still. Damian relaxed back under your hands, but he still wanted to bicker, so he replied coldly,

"If you weren't such a reckless oaf, you wouldn't be in this situation."

You gently wrapped your arms around him, which made Damian tense momentarily. He felt bad for not letting it go for your sake, but he wanted to defend his actions. Jason snickered now. He mocked,

"Are you on a leash now?"

Damian debated for a long moment to cut off his hands for daring to insinuate you are holding him back. You've been nothing but supportive and loving.

His hands twitch at his side, nearing his sheathed sword, but you took his hands in yours to prevent him from drawing his sword.

"He's not worth it, my heart."

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, but he relented. He didn't want you to see bloodshed over a sibling fight. He said,

"He's not worthy of my blade anyway."

You kissed him quickly and squeezed his hands lightly to show your gratitude for him dropping the metaphorical and literal sword. You always were good at calming him down while still making him feel like he wasn't broken for falling apart or exploding in anger.

He tried to fight off his smile, but he couldn't when he looked at you. He loved you with his entire heart. He's not one for PDA, but he was content with quick kisses and holding hands.

"You really are on a leash."

Jason snorted an amused laugh at his own words. Damian didn't particularly care that others knew how much he loved you. It was obvious to everyone. Damian scoffed and said,

"It's not a leash. It's called being loved, something you don't experience."

Jason looked ready to argue further, but Alfred gave them a disapproving glare that made them both shut up and drop the topic. You wrapped your arms around him.

"I love you."

You whispered it like a secret between you two with a growing smile on your face. Damian rolled his eyes at your antics. You are no secret. You are his, and he is yours. He grumbled as he pulled you to his chest,

"I love you, too."

[milktiicup]

Can you make a Mr. Silver or Mr.Machete fic. I've barely seen any fics of them :(, just kinda been consuming what I can for a fic. The most common ones I encounter are Mr.Crawling and Mr.Scarletta (which I've finished all of them possibly)...

Any tag is good, fluff, angst, uh... smut? I'm just gonna read anything since I'm so content-deprived 😭

anatomy of feeling

He saw you as a research subject, and you doubt he even saw you as a friend. And yet, you let him cut you open, spread you apart and put you back together. The least he could do is kiss you in return, right?

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ hhelellooooo have this mr silvair fic realising he actually kinda likes u lol

warnings. AAAAAAAANGST, unrequited feelings (kind of), mr silvair typical research (u know what i mean), hurt/comfort, HAPPY ENDING! :D

You don’t mind being a test subject- you were too far gone to even consider going home anymore. You were human, you were monster- and now you’re somewhere in between that you don’t have anywhere you can exactly call home, but Mr. Silvair was ‘kind’ enough to lend you his room, a bed to sleep on, all in exchange of hacking your body to a mushy pile of meat from time to time!

It’s not an ideal situation to be in, head over heels on the guy who researches your body inside out- and it’s not like he even likes you- you’re not even sure if Mr. Silvair is one to understand romantic feelings, anyway.

You remember the first day he indulged you- missing human skin to skin contact, missing a real connection to somebody. Mr. Gap had so kindfully lent you a magazine from the human world, and you can only imagine he gave you it free of charge because you were so down. Of course, it just had to be a magazine promoting some romance movie, the lead couple all snuggled up and kissing on the front page.

You broke down crying. You mean, of course Mr. Gap meant well, but really? It was an embarrassing state you were in, fat tears running down your face and dropping onto your legs.

Mr. Silvair had found you, obviously. Your new home was a research room. 

“You okay?” he asked, lips tugging into a frown. “Pain? Hurt?”

“Sad,” you corrected, using your raincoat sleeve to dry your eyes. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Me sad. Miss home. Want home.”

Mr. Silvair kneeled down in front of you. “This home.”

You bit your lip, and looked away. “Miss…” Stuff? Things? “...stuff from home.” You gesture to the magazine. “Humans. Touch.”

“Miss this?” he questioned, taking a seat beside you. He picked up the magazine, eyeing the front cover through his bandaged eyes, and flipped through the pages momentarily. “What miss?” 

You pointed to the front page. “...This ‘kiss.’”

“Mouth touch?”

You nodded. “Mouth touch.”

“Kish?”

You shook your head. “Kisssss,” you hissed the words out. 

“Kisssss,” he repeated, your hiss echoing.

You giggled, cheeks still wet from your tears. You wipe your eyes once more. “Miss kiss. Miss hug. Miss… human touch.”

Mr. Silvair set the magazine down and faced you. He patted the spot next to him, and you scooched yourself over. He tilted his head at you, a smile on his face. “Me kiss you?” he asked, and you froze. “Kiss you, you happy. Interested in kiss.”

The weight of his words settled over you like an uncertain storm. You studied Mr. Silvair’s face. The suggestion caught you off guard, yet his sincerity was unmistakable.

Your lips parted to speak, but no words came. Could he even comprehend what he was offering? Did he understand what kissing meant to humans, or was he simply trying to imitate the concept based on your longing? He had always been practical, clinical even, in his interactions.

Who were you kidding? Of course he doesn’t understand. He saw you as a research subject, and you doubt he even saw you as a friend. And yet, you let him cut you open, spread you apart and put you back together.

The least he could do is kiss you in return, right? 

You nodded, and Mr. Silvair didn’t make a move to kiss you at all.

“Teach kiss,” he said.

Oh. Right.

His lips, cold as they were, carried a surprising softness, almost cushiony. It was strange, almost surreal, feeling such a delicate part of him when so much of your life in his presence had been sharp edges, instruments, and prodding hands. There was no pressure in the kiss, no demand- just a willingness to learn. It was methodical, curious, like an experiment he was determined to get right.

After that moment, his kisses were a frequent part of your life. He sliced you, diced you, and put you back together and kissed you so softly afterwards that whatever remaining pain you felt was an afterthought. 

And you still weren’t happy. His kisses were to keep you in check, to keep you from being a sad little subject. And of course, your body may not be human, but your feelings and heart were. It just reminded you that no matter how much he touched you, or when he learned where to put his hands as the kisses deepened, that he was still unattainable. He still wasn’t yours, but you were his. 

“You okay?” he asks, offering you a hand off of the table. “Mind flawed? Shape flawed?” 

“I’m okay,” you reply with a shake of your head, and grasping his hand. “Mind good.”

Mr. Silvair smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist and interlocking your fingers together. His head ducks down, silver hair falling off of his shoulder and presses his lips to yours. You close your eyes, indulge in the moment, and move your lips against his.

It hurt.

It was like pressing against a bruise you couldn't stop prodding- painful, but addictive in its familiarity. Because no matter how much you wished otherwise, you couldn’t forget that these kisses weren’t rooted in love or desire. They were a kindness, a calculated gesture to keep you "fixed," to stabilise his research subject.

And you couldn’t bear it anymore.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what his closeness did to you- how much it fed the ache of your loneliness while also making it worse. He didn’t understand the depths of your feelings, and he never would. For him, this was just another experiment, another connection to study and emulate. But for you, it was everything.

So you decided, silently and painfully, to stop kissing him.

The next time he leaned in, tilting his head expectantly, you pulled away ever so slightly. “Not now,” you murmured, offering a small, strained smile. He tilted his head, confusion flickering over his face, but didn’t press further.

At first, it seemed like nothing had changed. He continued his work as usual, observing, dissecting, and repairing you with the same meticulous care. But when the moments came- those pauses where he’d normally press his lips to yours- you’d shift away, redirecting the moment with a comment or a question.

And he noticed.

At first, he didn’t say anything, but you saw the way his brows furrowed whenever you turned away, the way his hands hovered near you, uncertain. He started lingering after procedures, watching you with an intensity that made your chest tighten. You could tell he was waiting, expecting.

One day, after yet another procedure, he hesitated longer than usual. His hand brushed against yours, his face mere inches away as he whispered, “Sad again?”

You shook your head quickly, forcing a smile. “No. Not sad.”

He frowned. “No kiss,” he said, more a statement than a question. His voice carried a weight you hadn’t heard before. 

You swallowed hard.“I don’t need it,” you said softly, though your heart screamed otherwise. “I’m okay.”

He stepped back slightly, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he’d let it go. But then he spoke, “Kiss… make you happy.”

Your chest ached at the simplicity of his words, the sincerity behind them. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know how much more it hurt to keep pretending, to keep grasping at something that wasn’t real.

“It’s not about that,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’m okay. Really.”

Mr. Silvair didn’t respond. Instead, he nodded slowly, and turned away.

In the days that followed, he grew quieter. His usual precision faltered, his movements distracted. He still cared for you, still treated you with the same careful attention, but the pauses- the moments where he’d once leaned in for a kiss- were now filled with silence.

One evening, after he injected the medicine into your arm, you heard him speak from across the room. “No kiss… you not happy.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned your head to look at him. He sat at his desk, his hands clasped tightly together, his head bowed.

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. You blinked them back. Just how much more of this could you take before you break fully, and he couldn’t put you back together anymore? 

He looked up, his bandaged eyes meeting yours as though he could see straight through you. “Me not enough?” 

The words broke something inside you. Because he wasn’t enough- not for what you wanted, not for what you needed. But the truth was, you weren’t enough for him either. You couldn’t make a man who doesn’t understand like you. Any attempt was futile. 

So you stayed silent, letting the weight of your unrequited feelings hang in the air between you.

Days passed, and the silence between you and Mr. Silvair grew heavier, though neither of you addressed it directly. You carried the weight of your feelings alone, trying to convince yourself that distancing was the right choice. Meanwhile, his quiet melancholy lingered, each unspoken word from him carving a deeper ache in your chest.

But then, one evening, everything changed.

You sat on the bed, fiddling absentmindedly with the corner of your raincoat. Mr. Silvair had been working at his desk for hours, his silver hair catching the faint light as he scribbled notes and adjusted instruments. You thought he was too absorbed in his research to notice you, but suddenly, he turned.

“I…” he began, his voice hesitant, and he stood up, walking toward you with slow, deliberate steps.

You glanced up, startled. “What is it?”

He stopped just in front of you. Your legs hung off the bed. “You… stay sad,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “No pain. No hurt. Shape good. Mind good. Why?”

The question hit you harder than you expected. You took a shaky breath and shrugged. “It’s… hard to explain.”

“Explain,” he pressed, his tone more insistent. “Want you happy.”

It was as if someone had dumped ice cold water on top of you. Want you happy. Why? He shouldn’t have cared in the first place if you were happy or not- he should’ve just cared that you were sound of mind, and not trying to kill everything in this place. Your hands shook. Your breathing picked up. Your heart hammered uncomfortably against your rib cage.

Your fists clenched. You scowled. “Why care?” I’m nothing but a subject. “Me… only research.”

Your question caught him by surprise. He frowns, and takes a seat next to you on the bed. Mr. Silvair is silent for a moment, processing, thinking. “Not-...” he stops himself. You gaze at him from the corner of your eye, his fists clenching and unclenching in his lap. “Not only research.”

Great. Friendzoned. 

“You don’t understand,” you say, “You don’t feel like I feel, Mr. Silvair. You can’t understand.” And under your breath, you utter, “Told me that a million times already…” 

“Teach me,” he said simply. 

Your breath caught at his words. They were so simple, so stark in their honesty, yet they cut through all your swirling thoughts. Teach him? How could you possibly teach someone like Mr. Silvair something as complex, as human, as love? Did he even have the capacity for it?

You stared at him, analysing. Was he being… for real? His bandaged eyes stared intently at you as if he could see straight into the messed up web of your emotions. His lips, which had been both your salvation and your torment, were pressed together in a slight, thoughtful frown.

“Teach you…” you repeated, your voice trembling. “How?”

He tilted his head. “Teach ‘kiss,’” he pointed out softly. “Teach this. This feeling.”

You knew better than to believe in it. He didn’t know what it meant to love, not in the way you felt it, not in the way humans could. He was a scientist, a researcher, so lost in his experiments that he’d forgotten what it meant to simply feel without measuring it, calculating it, dissecting it into pieces. He wanted to understand, yes- but could he really? 

“Can’t…” you mumbled. “I don’t think I can. Cannot learn to feel. You don’t feel like me.”

Mr. Silvair’s frown deepened, and he reached out, his cold fingers brushing yours. The touch was hesitant, almost unsure, but it made your heart ache all the same. “Feel... something,” he said, voice low. “When you sad, me… don’t like.”

You stared at him, startled. It wasn’t a declaration of love, not by any means, but it was more emotion than you’d ever heard from him before. More than you thought he could express.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why do you care if I’m sad?”

He hesitated again, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. You half expected an Me interested in you, but… “You… important,” he said haltingly, as though the words themselves were foreign to him. “You hurt, me feel wrong. Dislike. Interested in you… care you.”

Your heart ached. “You’re serious?”

He nodded. “Want you happy. Interested… learn. Want learn.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, hope stirred in your chest. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t the fairy tale romance you’d dreamed of, but it was real.

“Then… let’s figure it out. Together.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Together.”

This time, when he leaned in, you didn’t pull away. The kiss was still awkward, still unsure, but it carried a warmth that hadn’t been there before—a promise, fragile but genuine.

And for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you’d found a place to call home. Not in a room or a world, but in the arms of someone who wanted to learn how to care for you as much as you cared for him.

[selfloverrrrrr]

Witch!Reader x Demon!Satoru. He promises to fulfill her wish in exchange for something. She wants to be seen as a human being instead of a monster, the only thing she really wants is to be loved, and unfortunately he knows that. He fulfills her wish, but in return he imprisons her in his castle and promises to give her all the love and care she deserves (but in a very dark way).

The Ritual~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physical and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, demon Gojo, witch reader, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

I was born in a witch family. My mother was a witch too. So were my ancestors. I'm also a witch. I didn't know what was it when I was a kid. Is being a witch a good thing or a bad thing? I always used to ask myself. But all I knew was my mom always used to hide the fact from everyone that we all are witches.

So many years passed. I grew up. I'm an adult now. And I still don't have the answer that if being a witch is good or bad. But for me it became a curse. A curse for which my whole family got killed. The king hired to kill all the witches in his kingdom. He's such a powerful king. And that's why my family isn't with me now.

We all were unaware that they were attacking us. It was the middle of the night. I saw them kill everyone in front of my eyes. I ran away from there. But they saw me. I ran all I could. And for god's blessings they couldn't find me. Now I made a small hut in the forest.

All time fear attacks me that they will find me and kill me too. I can't live like this. I need to find a way where I can live like normal people. So I started learning witches techniques. Maybe any of them will help me? I started reading the books of my ancestors.

I started learning many magics. But none of them are for what I was trying to find. I never did witch activities before. I started searching in all those books. Maybe, just maybe something that will make me like the other normal people and I can live a normal life just like them?

I searched all I could. But nothing was related this. But then I found something. A book which is sealed. I looked at it. It was the last hope. I opened the seal. It was too old. Am I even gonna find anything from here? I opened the book anyways. After some time of reading what I found can actually help me. The things written in the book are:

"He got sealed. After all those trying, we all witches are successful. We sealed him. He, the strongest demon. He got birthed and from that day it was all the witch's job to end him. Though its not possible to kill him. He's too powerful. We all were also shocked that we got him sealed. He was birthed to destroy the world. He wants to rule it. He has destroyed too many places. He has killed too many people. And after doing rituals we managed to seal him. That demon, that monster's name is:

Gojo Satoru"

I kept turning the pages and the last page got my attention.......

Process to unseal Gojo Satoru

He'll fulfill your wish

My heart started beating wildly. Should I do it? It is mentioned that he is too dangerous. But he'll fulfill my wish. I don't have anything in my life. Does it even matter if I risk it? If I don't do it people are gonna try to kill me all the time. Then I should take a risk. I have to go to the place mentioned in the book.

The place mentioned in the book is the old burnt castle at the end of the forest. I've seen that castle from the young age. Everyone told me to stay away from there. But they never told me the story behind it. Today I got to know about the real story behind it.

The ritual needs to be done at night. So I collected all the things that were needed in the ritual that day. And I went there the next night. I wore a hooded dress so that no one could recognise me. And I was lucky that there weren't any people there. I quickly made my way inside the old castle with a candle in my hand.

I entered the castle. It was huge. There's dust everywhere. And the castle is burnt also. It made me curious about what happened here? I kept walking. The huge stairs from the middle. I have to go to the top room of this castle. As in the book there's a throne room which is the ritual room. I went up there.

I pushed the door open and my mouth was wide open by the beauty of the throne room. I wondered what it looked like when it wasn't burnt. I went towards the throne. I don't have enough time to do the ritual. I quickly set up what was written in the book. Then lit up all the candles. Then started doing the ritual. My heart was thumping against my chest.

As I completed the spell. The wind started flowing heavily. Suddenly all the candles were extinguished together. Then the wind stopped flowing. And all of a sudden all the candles lit up together again. Then I saw a tall human figure sitting on the throne.

He has a huge masculine body. He's tall, has handsome sharp features, white hair, white eyelashes and those gorgeous blue eyes. He looks exactly the same said in the book. He's wearing all black royal clothes. He turned his head on both sides and the cracking sound echoed through the room. Then he looked at me.

Can that beautiful person be that dangerous? I asked myself. "So you're the one who unsealed me?" He spoke. I have to respect him. "Yes, my lord" I replied looking at the ground. "Hmmmmm.....well, this place is still burnt and dusty everywhere.... and I don't like my castle to lose its beauty" he said and threw a hand beside him.

A blue ray came out of his hand. And all of a sudden the castle turned all new. Not burnt anymore neither dust anywhere. I was already gorgeous and now it has become more gorgeous. A huge black gorgeous castle. "Hmm.....so what's the reason you unsealed me?" He asked.

"my lord, I'm a witch.... people of the king are killing all the witches. They killed my family too. I don't wanna live like this. I was to live like normal people. I want everyone to think of me like normal people. I want to be loved." I replied. And then there was silence. I could feel him staring at me.

"So you don't wanna be a witch any more and want to be loved right?"he asked. "... yes. My lord" I replied. He smirked. "Okay....done" he said swiping his finger in the air. My eyes widened in hope that now I can live like normal people. I looked at my hand and the witch sign was gone.

That means..... that means I'm not a witch anymore? I was so happy. "T-thank you... thank you, my lord" I said with a smile on my face. I stood up. I said "I should go now-" he didn't let me finish "No" he said. It almost seemed like an order. I dared to look at him. And there was a sinister smirk on his face.

"I didn't give you permission to leave" he said and went up from the throne. And within a blink I was standing in front of me. I got frightened and took a step back with a gasp. "You scared?" He asked with a smirk. I didn't reply. "Are you?" He asked again tilting his head. ".... N-No" I replied.

"okay.... then come with me... let me show you something" I said with a grin offering a hand to me. I have to accept his hand and so I did. And within a blink we both were standing in front of the window. How fast is he? "Look at the kingdom. I own this. I'm gonna burn this place" he said. Now he was definitely terrifying me.

He placed a hand on my waist and pulled me against him. Now this is getting too uncomfortable. "And you'll be watching them die with me from here. And I'll kill them first who killed your family" he said. What does that mean?! "M-my lord I should go now" I said. "And I already said no" he said looking at me.

"you want to be loved, right?..... you'll be living here in my castle with me.... and I'll give you all the love you need" he whispered in my ear. My eyes widened. Oh no no no. This is not what I want. He wants to kidnap me in his castle?! Shit I don't have my powers anymore either. What should I do now?!

"what happened?" He asked and nuzzled his face on my neck. I took a deep breath and pushed him. Then ran all I could. I was running through the corridor and bumped into someone. Of course it's none other than Gojo Satoru. I don't have any ways now. I automatically started crying.

He smirked. "Didn't thought someone has the bravery to disobey me" he said and started walking towards me and I started walking backwards. "P-Please let me go I don't want that life" I cried. "Oh darling you don't know how much I love to see people crying. And for your life I'm the one have the power to decide how you'll live" he said.

Then he clapped his hand and we both were standing in a.... BEDROOM?! He grabbed my hand and pulled me against him. "Now tell me what you were saying?" He asked. "P-Please....let go... P-Please" I said. "Let you go? But didn't you wish to be loved? I'm giving you the love you deserve" he said while grabbing my ass and squeezing it.

I yelped at that. "P-Please I don't want to stay her-" before I could even complete my sentence he threw me on the bed and claimed on me. I screamed so loudly out of fear when threw me on the bed. "Didn't you say you're not scared? That seems like a lie now" he said and took off a strand of hair out of my face.

"it's been years since I was sealed. Never thought I'll get this gorgeous gift as soon as I get unsealed " he said with a smirk and pressed his lips on mine. I tried to push his chest but he grabbed my hands and held them beside my head while kissing me aggressively. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth.

I was shaking my head in protest but he didn't stop. When he stopped he immediately grabbed the top of my dress and tore it off. How strong is he??? He tore off a dress with Corset with his hands?! I almost screamed when he did. I covered myself and tried to crawl up.

He grabbed my hair and made me look at him. "Did I say to cover yourself???" He asked. His eyes shined. Tears falling down from my eyes. He smirked and licked my neck with his long tongue. I was shaking from fear. "You know seeing you scared makes me more turned on" he whispered.

I couldn't breathe. He grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounced out. He looked at those with lust in his eyes. His eyes shined in the dim light. He didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensation. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even affect him. "M-my lord stopppp" I screamed but he didn't stop. "It's Satoru, darling.... I won't kill you if you call me Satoru"

Then he took off my pantie. He looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered " so wet. You naughty little slut, getting wet for me huh?". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pants.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. "Look... this is what you have done to me..." he said while stroking his dick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " S-Satoru no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged and called him Satoru as he said so maybe he listens to me? but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I screamed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thrusting in and out roughly. I was through my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder.

I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " you know.... you're the first witch I love....I always hated all the witches.... never seen such a gorgeous witch like you.... f-fuck what great present I got as soon as I got unsealed" he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thrusts I came. He was still thrusting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh... I don't want this ..." I moaned. "Do you still think you can make me stop?" He said with a smirk. I dig my nails more deeper into his back as he Marked me. He continued thrusting. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. He fell beside me on the bed.

"You need to be loved? I'll give you all the love you deserve..... now spread your legs again.... I'm not done yet.... I was sealed for over 500 years.... you don't expect me to stop right now, do you?" He said and chuckled demonicly.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[heartofjasmina]

Omg liking incest is so disgusting, why would you ever want to—

So anyways, pervy, big bro Gojo always teasing/harassing lil sis reader: pulling on her bra strap when she wears a bra, flicking at her perked nipples when she goes braless, stealing all her panties so she's forced to go without them for the day, slapping her ass when she bends over, flipping up her skirt, pulling down her top so her tits spill out, etc. And you think when he invites Geto over that you're safe but nope! He still pulls the same shit, if not more. In fact, Geto starts helping him.

Holding you firm in his arms while your brother rips open your button-up shirt, distracting you in the kitchen while Gojo creeps into your room to steal your underwear, holding your legs spread wiiiide open while Gojo tortures your clit with a vibrator, forcing you to join them in a game of strip poker (then helping Gojo rip your clothes off after you lose (they def weren't cheating or anything...)), etc

But what REALLLLLYYYYY pisses you off is how despite all of this, Satoru just won't fuck you. You've been (forcefully) naked in front of him more times than you can count yet all he ver does is tease. Unless, ofc... you beg him for it. Which, scoff, absolutely not, you've already lost enough of your dignity. You thought you could handle it, you'd gotten used to lacking in clothes around 'Toru. What you weren't ready for, was for him to start stripping himself.

Walking around shirtless, a loose towel around the waist when coming out of the shower (water still trickling down his body, until finally, you walk into the living room to him jerking off, fully naked. But still, he won't fuck you. Not unless you beg big brother for it. You thought you could handle it, but, truthfully, you didn't stand a chance.

(My gift from me to you for all the stuff you write, I lob you 🫶🫶🫶)

I feel like the incest kinda got forgotten while I was writing this but I hope you still enjoy it

I lob you too anon but whoo boy... this is riding the line of being too mean for mean for me to write. 😭😭 I am a soft ass baby fr I would cry if someone did this to me. THAT BEING SAID I see your vision and it's kinda hot.

I will say though when you do finally break down and ask him to fuck you he makes Suguru fuck you first to prove how much you want it.

[wastedr00k]

ditto ; simon 'ghost' riley

in which Ghost can't get over his past lover

inspired by new jeans's 'ditto'

.

stay in the middle like you a little, don't want no riddle

your attraction to Ghost himself started the moment he carried you out of the room during your training session, the way his arms were tight around your shoulder and underside of your knee, his eyes locked in front of him and his own mission was to get you out.

not to say that you only fell for him because of his physique, his hard heart was constantly calling out for you to undo the walls he build up. whether or not it was his doing, you couldn't look away from him.

so it started out with small gestures, buying his coffee, small talks with him, hanging out with him after mission, fixing his gear for him. eventually it moved on to fixing his mask, to your own disbelief.

"i told you your mask is crooked, looks like your teeth are all slanted." you muttered to Simon, fingers hesitating whether or not to fix it for him.

he signed and turned to you and bend down to your height, "if it bothers you so much, fix it then."

you felt your face heat up from the close proximity of the two of you, his eye bored into yours as he silently waited for your next move.

you remind him so much of her.

with shaky hands, you reached out to fix his hands, your fingers gently pulling down the fabric, then fixing the shell which never seems to face you right. as you stayed close to him, you noticed the dog tag which says.

"ditto"

you've seen him wear this dog tag before, you just never knew what it said.

"there, fixed it." you pulled back and managed to breath out before turning away.

his callused hands ruffled your hair as he let out a gruff, ''thanks, kid." and he was off to his mission, wherever he needed to be, without ever waiting for your response.

you huffed out air and went back to your task of tinkering with your electronics,

'who's "ditto" anyway?'

.

do you want somebody? like I want somebody?

so it goes, the both of your did get closer, he even let you lean on his shoulder after mission, something that event the 141 was shocked about, everyone's face was literal gold when it happened.

"i'm so tired! i didn't expect them to be that good!" you whined as you slumped back onto the car seat, "i could really use a good nap."

"then nap if you feel so inclined to do so."

"this cars too bumpy!"

without a second delay, a rough hand guided your head onto a shoulder, of none other than Simon, "quiet, you're making too much noise.".

the whole of the 141 stayed as silent as you, till soap spoke up,

"damn LT, the only person you let do this was -"

"enough, she needs to rest." Ghost cut him off, "get comfy little parrot, it's a long ride.".

you kept your eyes shut the whole ride, his shoulder was surprisingly comfy, you even mustered the courage to wrap your hands around his biceps half way though the ride. he didn't flinch or move your hands away, instead opted to lean his head on yours, closing his eyes.

you felt just like her.

.

oh, say it ditto I want you so, want you, so say it ditto

so when you found out his birthday, you decided to get a cake and celebrate it with him.

as you walked towards his room, hiding the cake behind your back, then finally knocking on his room door,

"Simon! open up!" you yelled, not caring if you woke everyone up, today was Simon's special day.

the lock undid and there he was, in his tank top and shorts, and by the way mask pulled over his face, it seems like he just woke up.

inviting yourself in, because the two of you close like that right? making sure to keep the cake hidden behind you.

"what are you up to this time?" he questioned, hands fumbling with the dog tag around his neck, he has a feeling that he knows what's going to happen.

"well," you started to pull the cake out of he box,

"today is your special day..." placing the candles onto the cake

"i wanted to let you know that you are loved..." lighting the candles up

spinning around with the cake in front of you, "happy birthday Simon Riley!"

he stood there, speechless.

and for a moment he is brought back in time where she celebrated his birthday with him, just the two of them. the same setting and positions, you really look like her.

all the times you bought coffee for him didn't go unnoticed and unappreciated. all the times you kept him company after missions, fixing his gear, all the times your reminded him of her.

he'd be lying if he said you didn't make him as happy as she did.

his bliss was short lived as suddenly, he felt like he betrayed her, all the promises of loving only each other, staying by one's side, being each other's one and only.

"get out."

"huh?" you slowly drew back the cake from him. "what -"

"i said get out, get out of my room." his eyes opened once again and all he could see was her funeral, her dead body laying there along with all their broken promises.

he could hear what you were saying as he slapped the cake out from your hands,

"you'll never be her, you'll never replace her no matter how much you try!"

as he trashed his room, you stood there like the eye of the storm. tears streaming down your face, is that who 'ditto' was?

"you try so hard but you'll never replace her! get the fuck out!" Ghost bellowed, as he destroyed the cake even more by trampling on it, his hands tightly clutching the single dog tag around his neck,

"i'll never betray you!" there he was, screaming at a ghost.

only that the ghost of his past lover was the living being that is you.

soon the yelling calmed down and the dust began to settle, he realized what he'd done, seeing her cry and let out a soft,

"ditto, LT, ditto."

before she ran out of his room, leaving behind yet another mess for Simon to clean and carry.

[warping-realities]

All For The Family - Part I

That was the only part of his job that Brian dislike, even though it was necessary. To justify what he had to do, he told himself those folks deserved it, that they should’ve been more careful with their own bills and the loans they took out, and paid their mortgage right. It wasn’t his fault. He was just there to deliver the truth they were probably expecting anyway. He tried to adopt a “don’t shoot the messenger” attitude while also showing he felt for their situation, even though he still had to do his job. That rarely worked in the two years he’d been doing that gig, and this time was no different. The blonde 24 years old man, rockin' a sharp suit that fit him like a glove on his skinny frame paired with his glasses, he was supposed to look classy and confident. Which clearly didn’t have the intended effect on the crowd he was facing. Standing in front of him with his arms crossed and a look on his face like he just sucked on a lemon was the biggest man Brian had ever seen in his life.

“You gotta understand, Mr. Abernathy, that the promissory note’s overdue again. If you don’t cough up the cash, the bank won’t have any choice but to foreclose and take your land to auction.”

“I get it, kid, but it seems like you’re the one refusing to understand. Tomorrow, I’m getting another hand to help with the harvest, and we’ll pay up all the back dues and even get ahead on a few!”

“Mr. Abernathy… Roy, can I call you Roy?” Brian asked with a smile he hoped was friendly and not showing the frustration he felt at that moment.

“My friends call me Roy, kid; you ain’t my friend.”

Brian let out a sigh at that response and decided to drop the pleasantries, taking a more hard-nosed approach.

“Well, Mr. Abernathy, I hate to break it to you, but if that promise of yours doesn’t pan out, I’m afraid that come the first of next month, you and your family are gonna have to vacate this property.”

“Save your worries for yourself, kid, while you hightail it off my land, ‘cause for now, I’m the one who decides who comes and goes around here.”

“If you weren’t planning on negotiating at all, why’d you make me drive all the way out here?”

“‘Cause there are some things that need to be said and done face-to-face, son.”

“Well, next time, just call me if you got something important to say!”

With a huff, Brian turned his back on the older, muscular man and headed toward the sports car parked behind the big barn that flanked the simple but well-kept farmhouse.

As he watched the kid walk away, unaware of the wave of golden sparks emanating from him, Roy murmured to himself, “Next time we talk, you’ll take whatever I say as important, boy!” He said, flashing a wide grin before turning to a figure that was approaching. “Is it done?” he asked, his smile widening at the answer.

That spat with the Abernathy family patriarch left Brian pissed off. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought that it might be through his work that those folks would lose everything. At the same time, he knew that if it were his older brother knocking on that door, dressed in his cop uniform, the treatment would’ve been a whole lot different. Of course, he could never pull off Lucas's job. Lost in those gloomy thoughts, he took a while to realize that the gas tank he filled up that very morning was nearly empty, and it was only when a beeping alert rang out that he noticed.

“Damn, how is this possible?” he exclaimed to the empty car as he pulled over to the side of the road and weighed his options. Looking at his cell, he found he was out of signal. The nearest town was miles away. The only option left...

“Damn!” he yelled again, getting out of the car and shrugging off his suit jacket, heading toward the Abernathy’s place, wondering what kind of reception he was gonna get. No matter how much empathy he might have started to feel for those folks, it surely wouldn’t be mutual. Halfway to the farm, the already bad situation took a turn for the worse when rain started pouring down, soaking Brian's expensive clothes.

For the first time in his life, he felt like he was being punished by some higher power for doing that job, and he was sure of it when he ran smack into the person he needed but didn’t want to see: Roy Abernathy in all his bulk! He was standing in front of an old Ford pickup, arms crossed again, but this time with a grin that Brian would’ve usually taken for some petty celebration, but at that moment it seemed to him to have more sincerity than he was used to seeing from “clients.” The man was with someone who could only be his son, given the huge resemblance between the two. Those behemoths made for a frightening sight for Brian, leaving him speechless. However, he didn’t even get a chance to speak, as Roy started the conversation for him.

“Looks like you need a little help, son. Where’s your fancy car?”

“I… the gas…”

“Oh, I get it; it’s real reckless to be out here with an empty tank.” The man said, still grinning, and Brian initially felt like he was just saying that to mess with him. But quickly, a small voice in the back of his mind disagreed; the Abernathys weren’t stingy like that. That new, dissenting voice made him hold his tongue and respond more calmly than expected.

“I don’t know what happened; I left town with a full tank. And… I… um… I’ll need some help, yeah.”

“Sorry, son, what was that?”

“I said I need help, if you could… please?!” He replied louder, though he was pretty sure the man heard him.

“Of course I can help, son. Out here, we all pitch in, no matter who you are.” Another jab, and once again something made Brian hold back; he deserved that treatment, the little voice said, and he would take it like a man, like the man he was. Roy smiled again, apparently noticing that the young man was holding back from snapping back.

“Thanks, sir. Now, if you could just follow me to the car and get me some gas…”

“No, son, you’re soaked through. Let RJ and me take care of that; you go to my house and talk to my wife; she’ll get you some dry clothes and a hot meal.”

“I’d rather go to my car…”

“No arguments, kid; do what I said!” Roy replied, his face turning serious.

“I… I… fine!” Brian said, biting back his anger and trudging down the road.

“That one’s a bit rough around the edges.” RJ commented to his dad as he watched Brian walk away.

“Oh, but he’s starting to behave, and there’s nothing wrong with him being a little rough, son, as long as he uses that attitude in the right way…”

“Dad, are you sure? This mumbo jumbo sounds crazy… and the risk we took, messing with that guy’s car. What if he noticed?”

“What are the odds a guy like that knows how to handle a car, Junior? At least for now.”

“Dad, what you’re talking about doing… it’s impossible…”

“Son, you’re gonna have to trust me on this; believe me, it’s already started. Tomorrow at this time, we’ll have the help we need and one heartless drone less in the world.”

“But how? How can you be sure? Have you done this before?” The young man asked.

“No, Junior, I haven’t.” Roy replied, looking quite uncomfortable and avoiding eye contact with his son. “But since you apparently doubt your old man’s word, maybe you should trust your own eyes; take a quick look now, and you’ll see something unique.”

“What the hell? What is that, Dad?” The boy asked, seeing the golden sparks surrounding the man who walked, seemingly unaware of anything strange.

“That, my boy, is the solution to our problems; now hurry up.”

As father and son climbed into the old pickup, an oblivious Brian, unaware of their plans for him, arrived at the farmhouse door. The moment he raised a hand to knock, the door swung open suddenly, and he found himself facing a beautiful woman with bronzed skin and black hair streaked with gray, whose age he couldn’t quite pin down, though he knew she was Abernathy’s wife. The woman looked at him with a warm face that, for some unknown reason, sent a shiver down his spine.

“Well, well, what do we have here? A lost kitten? How can I help you, sugar?”

“Um… I’m sorry, ma’am. I… Mr. Abernathy told me to come here and… hum… change clothes while he looks at my car.”

“You’re soaked, poor thing! Come on in, come on in. I’ll ask Debra to get you some of RJ’s clothes. Be a good boy and wait right here; I don’t want my carpet all wet!” The woman said in a whirlwind, pulling him inside the house and leaving him standing at the threshold. Brian, for his part, had to control himself not to run back out into the rain, as something urged him to get out of that place as fast as possible. Holding himself back, he waited until the woman returned with a young girl about his age, just as pretty as the mother, in a floral dress.

“Debra will take you to RJ’s room; you can dry off and wear some of his clothes until the boys bring your car back. Meanwhile, I’ll whip up some dinner; a big boy like you must eat as much as my husband and son!”

“I… actually…” Brian started, but he gave up announcing his intention to leave as fast as possible upon receiving a look from Mrs. Abernathy that simultaneously showed expectation and reprimand. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Great, now let’s go, let’s go! You’re soaking my carpet!”

Brian followed Debra up to one of the rooms on the second floor of the house. Upon entering, he was surprised to find it was a double room. Did the Abernathy kids, brother and sister, share the same room?

“I’ve set aside some of RJ’s clothes for you; they might be a bit big, but at least they’re dry.” The girl said, smiling between the two beds in the room. Brian couldn’t help but ask.

“You sleep here with your brother?”

“God, no, eww! That bed’s for my other brother!”

“I didn’t know that… wait… there’s no record of the Abernathys having another kid in the paperwork given to the bank!”

“Shhh… relax; there’s no need to stress about that, it’s not important. You city folks with your data, your records, your… contracts. Life is so much more than that, you know? So why don’t you chill for a bit, dry off, and head down? Dad’s gonna want to talk to you.” The girl replied and left the room, leaving a very confused Brian behind. He was still pondering the family’s strange behavior as he undressed and wondered what the hell Roy Abernathy would want to talk to him about. He wasn’t fooling himself thinking it could be something good for his job, not after the confrontation they had just had.

After drying off and getting ready to put on RJ's much larger clothes, the little intrusive voice invaded his mind again. Whatever Roy had to say was important, and he should listen and obey, just like he always had. Before his mind could fight back against that, a beam of golden sparks emanated from his body, and both the intrusive voice and the need to resist it vanished from Brian's mind. In fact, all thoughts disappeared. He couldn't tell how long he stood there, just breathing, with his mind blank of thoughts or worries.

He only returned to reality when someone caught his attention.

“What are you doing just standing there, brother?” A deep voice asked, startling him awake. Turning quickly, Brian found himself face to face with Abernathy’s son, RJ. He’d only seen him briefly on the road, but now he was just a few inches away. RJ lacked the bulk of his father, but that didn’t mean he was small. On the contrary, he was a strong guy, a year or two older than Brian, with a muscular, hairy chest on display. Looking at that figure, Brian felt a strange sensation wash over him, a kind of bond between him and this stranger; it wasn’t sexual, it was something… brotherly, maybe? He knew he’d felt that before, but couldn’t remember when or with whom. As absurd as it was, it was like this guy in front of him was someone very important.

“Earth to you, bro! Get some clothes on and let’s eat; Dad’s waiting.”

“I… uh… yeah.” Brian replied, hurrying to put on the clothes that were lying next to him.

“You coming?” He asked, wanting to stretch the time spent with the other man, even though he didn’t know why.

“Nah, I already ate; I’m gonna crash here. We’ll talk later and figure out how to fix your car!”

“Car?”

“Dude, you really are in another dimension, eat your food, talk to dad, I’ll be waiting!”

Brian headed downstairs and made his way to the kitchen, not even questioning how he knew which way to go, while trying to pin down that feeling of connection to someone he’d just met. As he reached the kitchen door, he found Roy Abernathy sitting alone at a large dining table piled high with food, looking serious and pensive. Brian instinctively stopped at the door, watching the older man. Strangely, all the animosity he’d felt toward the man had vanished, and revisiting his feelings, even the fear he refused to admit existed was different now; it wasn’t fear of violence, but a hefty dose of respect, with a healthy hint of dread. He didn’t even have time to try to figure out what had changed, as Abernathy spotted him and broke into a smile.

“Come on in and grab a bite, son, don’t just stand there like a deer in headlights!” The man said, and while part of Brian’s mind told him he should be anger by that comment, a now dominant part made him smile shyly and head over to the table.

“Excuse me, sir!” He said politely and respectfully.

“Sure thing, son, make yourself at home; things here are simple but done right.”

“Thanks, sir.” Brian replied, serving himself a bit of everything on the table, ending up with a plate piled high, which seemed to please his host.

“That’s a plate fit for a real man!”

“Sorry, Mr. Abernathy; it all looks so good and…”

“No need to apologize, son; that’s a compliment you’re giving my wife’s cooking. And you can call me Roy. That’s what my friends call me.”

Hearing that sparked something in Brian’s mind, some kind of half-forgotten memory, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall it… if he can’t remember it must not be important, right? So, he opted to eat all that delicious food, smiling, again oblivious to the shower of golden sparks surrounding him. But Roy Abernathy couldn’t help but notice, making his smile grow even wider.

Brian devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days, time slipping by without him realizing it. He only stopped eating when his belly stretched the elastic of RJ’s shorts, which was no small feat since the man was much stronger than him. Satisfied, he let out a loud burp.

“Burrrpp… sorry, Mr. Abernathy.”

“Once again, that’s a compliment to my wife’s fine cooking, kid; and I already told you, my friends call me Roy.”

“Thanks, Roy… you… you all didn’t have to do this for me, not after… after…”

“After what, son?” Roy asked, with an apparently innocent look.

“After… after…” after what? What did I do to Abernathy? I can’t remember… something about work… my job. “… my job.” Brian mumbled.

“Kid, just ‘cause you’re gonna work for me doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop treating you like a guest.” Roy replied with a smile, sending a shock through Brian’s mind. That information couldn’t be true… or could it? He tried to remember his job, but nothing came to mind; he had gone to college and studied… what? He couldn’t recall. But he knew his job had given him the means to buy the clothes he liked and the car… yeah, his car! There was something about his car.

“And my car…?”

“Oh, right, tomorrow you and RJ can figure out how to fix it. But I gotta tell you, son, there’s only so much an old car can take!”

“Old…? no, no!”

“Oh, I know young folks prefer the term classic, but still… anyway… if I were you, I’d save up for a good reliable pickup, kid! Now head on up; I’m sure you and RJ will want to talk before bed, but tomorrow the day starts bright and early around here.”

“I… I… Roy… there’s something… something…” Brian started as he stood up and headed for the door, unable to finish. He wanted to say there was something weird, something wrong, but he couldn’t.

“Something you wanna tell me, son?”

“Yeah… Mr. Abernathy… Roy…” He struggled to find the right words to express how he felt. “… thanks again!” That was what he finally said, with a fresh wave of golden sparks surrounding him, and any doubt about what he was doing there vanished.

“Thank me with hard work, son; now go to your room.”

Feeling a bit dazed, Brian climbed the stairs and reached the room he shared with RJ. The other man was lying down, apparently asleep, which left Brian feeling a bit down.

He couldn't say why, but he felt the urge to talk to RJ; somehow, he felt like the other man was a special friend he hadn't spoken to in a long time, though that didn't make any sense. He hardly knew the guy; they had barely exchanged words since they met that day... or was it the day his father hired Brian? And when was that? Brian sat on the bed, trying to sort out his thoughts and calm the strange feeling that had taken over him since his car broke down on the road. And why was he on the road if he had gone to the Abernathys to work? He couldn't get very far with those thoughts, as apparently, his movements had woken RJ, who quickly sat up in bed.

“Hey, brother, why didn’t you let me know you were in the room?”

“I didn’t want to wake you; didn’t wanna bother you…”

“Man, it ain’t no bother! We gotta talk about your car, figure out what we’re gonna do!”

“Your dad thinks I should sell it and save up for a pickup!”

“Bro, no way! Dad’s a great guy, but for him, if something ain’t useful for work, it ain’t worth a damn. He’s forgotten what it’s like being a guy our age. And selling a 1969 Ford Mustang? The king of American muscle cars? Only if you’re crazy! I figured with a car like that, you’d know how to appreciate a classic!”

“I… uh… I just didn’t wanna offend your dad, with him being my boss and all…”

“Dude, just be straight with him, and he’ll get it… and forget about the boss stuff… you’re sleeping in his son’s room; you can bet he sees you as more than just an employee.”

“Thanks…” Brian replied awkwardly.

“Come on, enough of that; you’re gonna work with me, hell, you’re sharing a room with me, brother! No need for all that formal junk.” RJ said, grinning before giving Brian a scrutinizing look and asking, “Bro, do you lift?”

“Uh, no… I’ve never been much for working out…”

“So how you ended up working on a farm??”

“Uh… I… went to college… I think, and… I don’t remember…”

“Chill out, brother, I’m just teasing you!But seriously, if you wanna work around here, you gotta pack on some serious muscle.” RJ said, casually scratching his powerful pecs and biceps, making Brian, who had never cared about that kind of thing, feel mesmerized.

“You think… you think I can get as big as you or your dad?” Why was he asking that???

“Ha, dude, nobody’s as big as my dad, and getting to my size is a good journey, but the beauty of the thing is just that, brother; you never settle for the size you are, and I bet with the right training and all the farm work, soon you won’t even recognize yourself.” Hearing that reply filled Brian with a level of contentment he never thought possible.

But before he could try to understand why, RJ went back to talking about cars, and soon the two were discussing their favorite classic models and what they’d do with Brian’s old Mustang. Their conversation flowed like they’d known each other for years and was only interrupted when a very serious Roy Abernathy opened the bedroom door and told the two to hit the hay already, like a couple of mischievous kids being schooled by their dad. Somehow, that thought was comforting to Brian, who quickly fell asleep after Roy turned off the lights and left the room.

He was in a strange place; it looked like a gym. There was a young, skinny but strong guy, as blonde as he was, staring at him. After a few seconds, he realized he was standing in front of a mirror and smiled.

As he dreamed of that, Brian smiled in his sleep on the bed in Roy Junior’s room, his shirt pulled off during the night without him realizing, and golden sparks surrounding him as he moved around happily, unaware that someone was watching him.

“Sleep tight, little brother, ‘cause tomorrow’s when things are really gonna get interesting!”

[ipilokko]

Hello! This is me attempting to write after a looong time. I was not home today so i wanted to try again. I don't think I'm the best at it and i probably made a LOT of grammar mistakes since English is not my first language. So i might get embarrassed and delete this later 💀

The thing is under the cut...

From the warmth of their home, Mollie stood in front of the window, she could hardly make out her immense husband between the layering raindrops. It was getting colder and colder each day as the weather pulled away from autumn and was being dragged more into winter.

His back facing her, he was wearing a dark brown coat with his umbrella on his hand, creating a spotlight on him free from the raindrops. She gripped the ladder, slowly climbing down to reach the ground. She put on her jacket, her hat, took her own umbrella, her gloves and went outside from the human door.

The oversized raindrops were a bit sticky as the surface tension was, for sure, directly proportional to the scale. She slowly made her way through him, whose gaze was lost in the foreverness of the ocean. She watched as he stretched farther over her horizon line, much farther over her head and then finally, as he completely took over her vision as she got closer.

The raindrops stopped falling on her when she passed the lineage of the circular waterproof fabric hundreds of feet above. He wasn't acting like it but she was sure he had noticed her coming, he always did.

"Always by the sea... Why do you hate me so much?"

Mollie teased before letting out a short-lasting laugh, cranning her neck to be able to see his face... Well, more like underside of his jaw. He looked down and his eyes landed on her. She was not even sure if he could see her eyes, yet it WAS an eye contact. Roy smiled kindly and looked back up to his own vanishing point. He moved his umbrella to her direction and centered it on top of her, even though he knew it was already covering her before. The sound of huge raindrops falling just a few feet away from her tickled her ears.

"What so nice here anyway?"

She walked closer to his feet. She could smell the fresh polish he applied on his shoes just a day ago.

"Stay here with me for a little longer and you will find out" He replied softly without breaking his eye contact with waves for a moment, then glancing at her.

She shifted her attention back to the ocean and glanced around between the waves. "I guess I'll be here for a while, then"

"I would love that" he once again, smiled calmly.

She was a bit cold, but it was no excuse to get back into the house. Yes, maybe she didn't understand what he liked so much about the sea but just staying with him made her happy. And her staying with him made him happy. Despite her being really talkative, it was actually the speechless moments of pure togetherness she adored the most.

His long legs shifted behind her, transferring his weight onto them with a soft tremour, shielding her from the cold breeze. His movements calm and bare of rush, as they always were. After a short amount of time, she felt a movement behind her and noticed he was lowering himself on the ground, his stature folding in half and getting more than twice as big with the affect of perspective. He smootly reached for her and slightly spread out his fingers to reveal his palm, inviting her to join him up in the sky. She glanced at his ring, which was a symbol of their marriage. it warmed her heart seeing how well he took care of it, not a single piece of dust between the elegant engravings.

With her barely perceivable touch, she put one of her hands on the inner side of his forefinger and the other one on his thumb. She supported herself and climbed on it, her small weight barely forming a dent on the soft flesh. She felt the welcomed thrill of weightlessness as he began to rise her up in the air, making her previous ground shrink and shrink more until it stopped.

"Shoulder, please" she requested. He obeyed after he deeply studying her with his soft gaze. She took a step that led her on his shoulder after his hand was aligned with the level of it. She carefully passed his and made herself comfortable near the wall of his neck with the warmth of his life blood leaking on her. His presence was dominating yet somehow, so recessive that she felt like she was taking advantage of him. She was always grateful that the gentle giant was always so patient, so respectful and considerate of her needs. He was a gentleman from every angle and his manner and accent only made her opinion stronger.

She once again paid attention to the sound of rain, a wee bit muffled now as she was further away from the origin.

"Shall we go in?" His voice rumbled through her from where she was leaning her head on. Weird enough, even though she was this close to his voicebox, his voice always touched her so gently.

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

You’ll never guess what happened. The demon came back, angrier AND hornier. I always thought I was a Price/Simon girly but Soap snuck his way all the way in here. I blame the Soap thirst edits on TikTok. Too pretty. Anywho, this is one of the rare times I don’t get bogged down in preamble, which is to say, a poorly veiled excuse to admit I don’t make it to smut very often. I hope… it’s good? Idk it’s all embarrassing.

That’s it for this one probably. I’ll see y’all out there.

All for One, One for All, part 2

Part 1 here

TW: NSFW, MDNI, fem reader. I’m bad at tags, sorry.

“I said, are you broken?”

“No sir.” You said quietly. Curled in on yourself, legs covering your important bits, your fingers fuss with the seams of the couch. You feel like you’ve done nothing but cry for the last hour, so much for being a big tough soldier.

Eyes still on you, he blinks for the first time in forever it seems. “Good.” Price finally stands. He always seems big but he’s towering, a monolith as you lay in his shadow. He takes a deep breath and says “Before we begin, I need you to be honest with me.”

Beside you, you hear Ghost wrestle Soap down to the couch, balaclava askew as he grabs his legs and forces him on his back.

“Ah, eyes on me.” Price barks. Not breaking his eyes, he pulls his shirt off. Jesus fucking Christ. It’s the military, you all have seen plenty of each other in various dress. But this is too much. He’s a hairy man, chest full of soft dark down, with a thick trail leading into his low pant line. You wonder if it’s just as thick near his cock.

Fingers snap, bringing you back to the task at hand. A chuckle shakes his shoulders. “You usually listen so well. More than these two anyways. We’ll have to work on that.” A mumble comes out of Soap, you figure it’d be more of a complaint if Ghost wasn’t biting his bottom lip.

You yip in surprise as Price falls to his knees in front of you. Irises blown out, you figure your eyes can and will fall out of your head by days end. He reaches for one of your knees, so far just feeling you, rubbing his thumb. Finally letting his gaze fall, he says, ”Why’ve you been running from me, love? You’re so… skittish. You’re such a good soldier for me,” he trails, taking your ankle in his other hand, bringing it to the floor tenderly. “I’ve never wanted to pressure you, make you feel like you’re here for the wrong reasons. You’re as much a part of this squad as I am.” His hand runs from your ankle to your toes, his warm fingers carding through them. He looks to the side. “What’s this really about?”

Your heart freezes as he treats you so gingerly. You’ve been so obsessed with your own worries, you didn’t even stop to consider that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. “I, I uh.” You take a moment to collect your thoughts, steady your breathing. Even Ghost and Soaps wrestling slows, you feel their eyes in your direction as the room falls to near silence. “I didn’t want to fuck anything up.” You say slowly, almost sadly. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I’m a … mess. I—“ you hiccup, shaking your head, trying to push through the weight in your chest. “didn’t want you to find out that I’m not worth it.” You finish quietly.

Hands squeeze you tightly, for a moment. Price gives you a hard look. For the first time in a long time, he isn’t sure what to say. A beat goes by, then two. He finally moves, bringing both your legs down and sitting you upright in front of him, hands in yours.

Price was always good at conveying a lot wordlessly. In the field, when a new recruit fucks up during training. The look he’s giving you now is breaking your heart. Like you bring him the sun in the morning. Like all he’s ever wanted was a moment with you. He’s been doing this a long time, not a lot in his life requires the softness that he gave you freely. You gave him hope. A hope that he could be something after all this. That he could be someone who doesn’t have to carry the world all the time. He’d carry you though. As long as you’d let him.

“You let me decide that. You understand?”

The tears threatening to burst forth subside for the first time today. Something so resolute in his voice makes you feel like you finally have something concrete, something real to latch onto. Maybe a purpose is what you both needed, something you could find in each other.

“Yes sir.” You reply.

He brings one of your hands to his lips, mustache tickling as he kisses it. “That’s my girl. Now come here.”

A surprise laugh rips through you as he snatches you into his arms. You can’t help but try to slap him away and he peppers kisses onto your face. Over your eyes, your nose. He rests his forehead against your cheekbone, smiling against it. “I’ve been showing a lot of restraint, love. You let me know if it gets too much.” You’ve never heard something so sweet sound more like a threat.

A moan brings your attention to the other side of the couch, the only word you could use to describe the scene was progress. Shirts gone, pants unbuckled, hands grabbing. Ghost in all his big, fuck-off glory trailing rough kisses down Soaps chest. Soap, already blissed out, had an eye on you though. Breathlessly, he tossed a look over at Price, “Take care of our girl, Cap.” He said. You were the first to admit that your judgement was compromised to say the least, but you could have sworn you heard an edge in Soaps voice. Eyes fluttering the closer Ghost got to his cock, he still looked at you with a certain intensity. Like he’d be there if any part of Price faltered. Your heart did a flip in your chest before Soaps eyes rolled back completely. We all had our respective objectives today, it seemed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sergeant.” You wish everything would stop happening at the same time. Your shirt, or the crumpled remains of it bunched around your shoulders gets ripped off, hair falling messily into your eyes. You hear a jangle as pants hit the floor and hands are all over you, laying you up and out. Soap and you are positioned head to head on the L-shape of the couch, your respective commanders tending to your… needs. Hair cascading around your head, you lay your hands above you, Soaps fingers tangling gently in yours.

“Suppose we have dear Johnny to thank in the first place, getting our girl out of her shell. Told Simon here he deserved something special, you know.” Price said offhandedly to you, bringing his hips over to your face. “Needed someone to warm you up for me, teamwork and whatnot.” He says as he throws you a wink. Your attention is pulled to what’s in front of you and your laugh dies in your throat. You knew he was big. You’ve caught glimpses in showers, in changing rooms. But you tried, really, you promise, not to outright ogle your captain. In this moment you start to think maybe you should have, it would have prepared you a little better emotionally.

Price’s breathing starts to get a little hitched in his chest. Something about your pretty face, underneath him looking at him like that makes his heart clench. Or maybe his balls, it’s hard to tell. Either way it makes his abs flex and his cock bob up and down. “Sweetheart, I need you,” he tells you, pumping the base. “I’m going to take care of you I promise baby. You gonna take care of your Captain?”

There’s a breathless quality to his voice. And something like liquid fire slips into your stomach. Something slippery and white hot. Seeing the man you’ve leaned on both physically and emotionally, the man you looked up to, got you out of battlefields alive, weak? For you? You look up at Price, big doe eyes taking him all in as you lean his cock gently into your mouth with two fingers. Running your tongue gingerly across the underside, you tease it a little before taking just the head in your mouth and giving it suck. Almost a kiss. You feel his torso shudder as he leans a hand to the back of the couch to support himself, curling over you for a better view.

If you weren’t so focused, you’d laugh at the chorus of moans from the men in the room. Prices eyes slipped closed, Ghosts eyes are locked on you as he has Soap in his own mouth, bobbing up and down in a steady pace. Soap however has you locked in, looking at you almost upside down, fingers clenching in yours as his brows furrow. Mouth agape, he chokes out a moan as he cums down Ghosts throat.

You take Price down further, slowly. As much as you want to tease him, you’ve been waiting just as long as he has. His length and girth are, truly too much, but you make it down, feeling the soft dark curls tickle your nose and cheeks. You wonder if your throat bulges, you’ll have to ask him later. He maintains the pace initially, hand snaking to the back of your head, but relinquishes control once you make it down his length. Your eyes peek open for a moment to see him fully engulfed into your mouth, eyes closed and muttering to you.

“Just as good as I thought you’d be, you’re so fucking good for me. You like me in your throat, baby? Like your Captain fucking your sweet little throat? Fuck.” Your hands sneak up, one running down his torso and feeling hair and corded muscle in your palm, the other one wrapped around one of his thighs. You feel him tense before he groans and pulls out of your mouth slowly. He meets you in the middle, leaning down to you as he pulls you up by your face to crush you in a kiss. The heady taste of his own cock filling his mouth as he deepens. Wanting to drown in you. His hands cradling your face, he drops one to find in between your thighs, rubbing passively around your clit, not quite enough pressure to be satisfying as you wiggle for more contact. He pulls away briefly to slap at your thighs before continuing, a check to obey. The other hand sneaks down and puts a easy pressure around the top of your throat. Not squeezing too hard, but enough to get your attention and keep you aware.

You’ve never seen his eyes so intense, he’d eat you whole if he could. He can’t help but tighten his fingers around your throat for a moment, you’re so fucking delicious. “As much as I want your sweet little mouth I need to feel you, baby. Ugh, I fucking—“ he hitches, bonking his forehead against yours, barely able to contain himself as he closes his eyes. “Tell me what you want love.” He says with a now steady voice. “Tell me how you want me and I’ll do it.”

“Let me make it up to you daddy.” You whisper, throat vibrating his large hand. His eyes shoot back open as the name shoots right to his dick. He desperately tries to remember if the medic talked about his heart at all at his last checkup, it won’t make it at this rate. He lets you go as you get up from the couch, mildly unsteady from all the angles you’ve been in today. His hands never leaving your body, he lets you position him, in a sitting position on the couch, hips forward so he’s at an angle, legs open. You can’t look at him too long like this. Fully splayed open, a lifetimes worth of muscles and scars and hard work displayed on a truly perfect canvas. He starts to pump his cock again, as he returns the look. Whatever you were, flaws and all, would always be exactly what he wanted. He understood why all those guys from the past made their wives into marble statues. He already wants to keep you forever.

You both get mildly distracted as Ghost and Soap quietly exclaim at the same time, now fully nude as Ghost positions him on his knees on the couch, hands warming his ass as he pumps himself from behind. If you see any more fit, perfect men today you are sure you’d die. “Christ, bird. Give John a show for us, he’s been waiting for ya’.” The look Ghost gives is downright sinful and he maintains eye contact as he slips into Johnnys hole. The moan that slips out of his mouth makes your pussy pulse.

Your attention comes back to Price as you crawl into his lap, rubbing your hands over his shoulders before settling around his jaw and hold his head up, hovering over his cock. “I’ve been yours since the first day I met you, John.” Your eyes rake over his features up close, running your thumbs over his lips and cheeks. “I. Feel like I’m right with you. Like I don’t feel so out of balance.” His hands snake around your waist, running his hand down your spine. You drop to his ear, wanting at least one thing just between you and him. “I’ve loved you for a long time, I’m sorry it took so long to say I—“ you get cut off by lips on yours. Not rough, but almost bruising kiss as he explores your body. Like he’s mapping it to memory. He breaks away after what seems like an eternity and whispers into yours “Show me.”

You give him your doe eyes, full of lust as you lean back, putting your hands on his knees and putting yourself on blessed display. You bring one hand between you two as you guide his cock to your entrance. His mouth drops open as he feels the tight wet heat crest the head. His head falls back to the couch as you start working yourself slowly around him, moaning as you go. “Fuck John, you’re so big,” you say breathlessly as you reach the bottom. You rock up and down, getting used to the absolutely full feeling inside and lean fully back onto his knees. You start to undulate your torso and hips ever so slightly, letting him see, showing off how he makes you feel. You close your eyes and moan, “I used to touch myself thinking how you’d feel. Your big fucking hands on me, in me. Fuck, Daddy.”

A growl rips out of him as the hands on your thighs tighten. You’re gonna be the death of him. He steals one of your hands from behind you and brings it to his mouth, licking your pointer and middle, getting them messy. He grabs your wrist and spits roughly on them one last time, and he brings your fingers to your clit.

“Show me, baby.” He commands, his combat voice leaking through. “Show daddy how you want him to touch you.” Your mouth drops open as you pick up the pace, rolling your body and hips up and down his length in earnest, and working your clit in little circles. Your tits shake to the rhythm as he takes you all in, arms spreading across the back of the couch. Your moans find a cadence, little “uh, uh, uh’s” a song in your Captains ears. His jaw tenses, positive he’d break a tooth if he clenched anymore. “I’m gonna make sure you can’t walk tomorrow. So fuckin’ perfect for me.” He squeezes out, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Your cadence starts to get sloppy in his lap, bouncing almost out of beat, rubbing your clit in quick circles. A whine sits high in your throat as you feel your orgasm build, your soft thighs bouncing on his sturdy lap. “Do you like it, daddy?” You squeak out. “Fuck, does, does it feel good?”

His hands move fast, taking your throat once again in his hands and forcing you to look at him. The other angling your hips on his cock as he finally thrusts back. Putting pressure on you, your eyes water as the light, fuzzy feeling starts to creep into your vision. “My perfect little pussy. Fuck daddy, sweetheart. Soak me, cum on daddy’s dick, come on!”

Static. Light. You feel your chest vibrate and your mouth move but can’t exactly hear as you cum. That wet feeling is back again as you feel it… everywhere. Dripping down your knees, splashing down to your ankles. Breath only comes to you shallowly. You tune in and out to a steady stream of names is being moaned into your ear as hearing returns. “Fucking such a good girl, my little whore, you did so good for me.” Hands pet your hair and warm your sides. You hear another set of strangled moans as Johnny gets louder beside you two. Ghost is fucking him fast and hard from behind, holding Johnny around his chest and keeping him up, both sets of eyes on you and John.

Your body moves on autopilot, delicate hands move off of John as you lift yourself and position yourself on your knees in front of Soap. Your fingers grip his cock, red and weepy with precum and he cries at the contact. So does Ghost, as his cock is being clenched in Soaps ass you figure. You bring your mouth down and take his head in your mouth and he can’t last. Refuses to. He cums, long and deep into your mouth, flexing his chest and almost ripping out of Simon’s arms. Simon finishes as well, hips shaking everyone as Soaps ass milks him for all he’s got. You bring yourself up, swallowing slowly and making sure Johnny sees you lick the remainder off your lips. He rips you forwards, kissing you and tasting himself. You wonder if you both will always taste like cum to each other from now on.

You feel hands rip you backwards and you fall into a big warm chest, bringing your legs up as he slots himself inside you, pussy on display to the others. You crane your neck to look at him, eyes wild, hazy, and he lands a messy kiss on the outside of your mouth, still tasting Johnny on your lips. One hand wraps around your waist as the other starts rubbing your clit in hard tight circles, just like you showed him. He hammers in to you, tits bouncing as you can’t do anything but yell. His thighs and your ass still tacky with your cum. You hold his arm tightly, trying to hold on for dear life as he speaks loudly in your ear, drowning out your moans. “Who’s are you, baby. Look them in the eye and say it.”

Your heart shatters for real this time. Overstimulated. Too many feelings all at once. Too much. Not enough. Everything you’ve always wanted as you moan loudly, “Yours! Ours!” Johnny and Simon look at you, holding each other gently. They both look back on it and say the same thing, it’s like looking into the sun. “That’s right, bird.” “Ours forever, love.”

John fucks into you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. His arm now a vice grip around you as you reach your crest again, splashing all over his thighs for a second time, in arcs and droplets all over the couch. “Ours. MINE.” He roars in your ear. He cums, hard inside you, pulses shaking you violently. His cock slips out as he pumps straight into the air, landing on your clit and pussy, making more of a mess as it drips out of your hole.

You weren’t really present for what happened after. Big, warm hands get you through a shower, keep you upright. Dry you off. A rogue hand occasionally playing with your clit before it gets slapped away by the others, chastised gently. “She’s had enough for one day, give her some time!” You find yourself coming back to, naked in a bed much larger than your own, swimming in a soft comforter. Bodies on both sides of you rub and pet you passively, just wanting some contact. You doze off, to kisses in your hairline and a bearded face tickling yours as it whispers in your ear, where no one else can hear.

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

[nandolonso]

Title: Nights like this (Kimi Räikkönen x Reader)

Warnings: Kimi catches you dancing, mostly fluff, a little bit of stress, and sweet-sweet Kimi.

I want a man like this. When will God hear me out?! T_T

Word count: around 1500

English is not my main language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes. I'm also sorry for the picture and the blurred wife, but I wanted to set the mood. PLEASEFORGIVEME.

//

“Y/N,” Kimi called out your name. His voice broke the silence three times in the last 30 seconds. But nothing. No answer. Not even a little sound. Nothing. Weird.

However, you didn’t hear a thing. You were at the bottom of your shared house, inside the study with headphones on. Although, you could have chosen not to work thanks to Kimi, for some reason you still didn't want to “live that up”. You wanted to bring something to the table, and you wouldn't have been able to sit on your butt all day anyway. So, you worked. A little too much these days. All week. All month. And let’s add plural to the end of those words.

The last period has been particularly difficult for you. You had to work with a lot of clients as an account manager. And sometimes (well mostly), your bosses were assholes. More than once, Kimi almost went to your workplace to finally put them in their place and burn that place to the fuckin’ ground. But you always shut him down for some stupid reason. Even though, they would deserve it. Because all you've wanted to do lately is quit. You were burnt out, you were tired. But at least you had one thing in your life that was worth everything: Kimi.

You couldn't tell how grateful you were for him. Although everyone called him “The Iceman”, you didn't know that side of him at all. Yes, he was honest, straightforward, sometimes grumpy, but never towards you. With you he was always kind, loving and understanding. He hated everyone but you. And he showed it to you. More than anyone else ever had, he showed you what it truly meant to love: genuinely and unconditionally.

Kimi furrowed his eyebrows as he pushed himself away from the kitchen counter – where he had prepared everything for your dinner together – and headed downstairs. He was worried about you as you didn’t reply to him, and he hadn't heard anything from the study for a while now. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but for some reason it gave him an incredible sense of calmness to hear you rattle around even when you were “quiet”. He adored you, in a way that sometimes it scared him.

Meanwhile, before you knew it, you stood up from your working table with your headphones on and started to dance. The beat was infectious to you, closing your eyes, you imagined the whole place was yours. You moved with confidence, spinning, and striding gracefully, bending low and rising up with a flick of your hair, your hips swaying side to side. Completely lost in the tunes, you danced like no one was watching.

But someone was watching, and it was Kimi. He leaned to the doorframe as the scene unfolded in front of his eyes: your carefree and confident side surfacing. His mouth went dry, and he felt rooted to the spot as he watched you. Even in just sweatpants and a sports bra on, he’d never seen you look more beautiful or more captivating. Or sexier… He swallowed hard and tried to ignore the sensation which started to take over his body.

He didn't want to bother you, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. He heard the tunes from your earphones, as it was blasting at full volume. He recognized that “girly music” (as he called it) from TikTok. He suppressed a smile, secretly loving when you watched those stupid videos next to him and laughed like a fuckin’ maniac. He loved your laugh.

Song after song, you put on a full show for your (not-so) imaginary audience. When you finally spun around and opened your eyes, you saw Kimi leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Even though you’d been together a long time, a blush crept up your cheeks. You quickly yanked down your headphones, only making the music blare even louder.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked, but Kimi didn’t answer right away. Your breath caught as his gaze held yours, those icy blue eyes now smoldering with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Long enough,” he replied in that typical Kimi tone of his, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. You switched off your Bluetooth headphones, and the music started playing now from your phone speakers. A daring idea came to your mind.

“Dance with me,” you breathed out, extending a hand towards him.

“You know I’m not a good dancer,” he replied, his voice teasing. Lies. You both knew it; he was a much better dancer than he let on. You loved those moments when you’d both get a little tipsy and end up pressed close, unable to keep your hands off each other.

He shook his head a little bit, then sighed. After a few seconds, he pushed away from the doorframe and moved towards you, his gaze meeting yours. Your heart raced as he reached your side, taking your hand and placing his other firmly on the small of your back: his fingers splaying out between your lower back and…

He pulled you close, and you instantly melted into his touch, a soft sigh escaping as you began to sway together to the music. He led you effortlessly… Not a good dancer. Right. What a lie… The way he held you made your skin tingle.

It started right at your lower back, where he touched you. Then, the sensation slowly started to work its way all over your body. From head to toe, like a poison that spreads through your veins. That sweet, hypnotic, deadly toxin that you couldn't get enough of. Because when it came to Kimi, nothing was ever enough. You wanted more. More. To take and possess. And that feeling deep down scared you because no one had ever had that effect on you. It was intoxicating and something you never wanted to let go of. And you won’t because Kimi felt the same way about you.

As you looked up into his eyes, the song Nights Like This began to play, and suddenly, it felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room as the lyrics were written just for this moment.

Hold my hand until we turn to ashes...

Kimi’s gaze softened, his fingers pressing a little more firmly into the small of your back, holding your other hand tenderly with his. The way you looked at each other, the way your breaths mingled, it almost turned your world upside down. No matter how long you've known each other, that feeling never changed.

Love me 'til they put me in my casket...

Your heart skipped, feeling a rush of something deep and unspoken passing between the two of you.

I got all these feelings that I'm maskin’...

You wondered if he felt it, too: that quiet ache, the vulnerability the words held.

You let out a soft breath, barely above a whisper as you were singing the song, “Can I lay it on you? That’s what I’m askin”’.

And without saying a word, Kimi pulled you even closer, as if his answer was already there, steady and clear in his embrace.

You stayed like that with the song all the way through, completely intertwined with each other and swaying softly. When the song ended and another began, you pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes.

“Kimi,” you whispered.

“Kultsi?” he replied, a slight smirk tugging at his lips –barely there, but somehow, always present just for you.

“I love you so much… I hope you know that” you murmured, leaning deeper into his touch, feeling the last of your stress melt away. With him, you felt completely at peace, blissfully content.

“I love you more,” he replied, and leaned down to kiss you with the same impulse. He was more a man of action than talk anyway. He grabbed the back of your neck as he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss. His mouth sweetly explored yours, brushing his tongue against yours.

You pulled him even closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back as if your life depended on it. Dinner was waiting in the next room, getting colder by the second, but he didn’t care; right now, you were all he wanted. You were the meal he craved. Even starved.

With a swift, effortless movement, he slid his hands under your thighs and lifted you, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, laughing as you pulled him closer.

He looked at you, his eyes alight with something deeper. That laugh...

“I love you,” he murmured again, his voice almost a growl, and carried you over to the worktable. He nearly swept your things to the floor, but you stopped him, quickly moving your laptop and phone aside. After all, you’d need those later…

You let out a soft chuckle as you did so and when you turned back, you could see his eyes darken with something. It made the air stuck in your lungs.

“And I’m going to show you just how much,” he whispered hoarsely and began to slowly undress you…

[34saveme34]

Oh SMG4, do you never learn?

---

This time… it would become perfect… It really would! At least SMG4 was sure as he sat in front of his computer, at a rather late hour at night, trying to figure out his video. It was half finished at this point. He watched a certain bit over and over. Repeating it. Really paying attention. Humming as thoughts came to his mind. And none were supporting this. Was this video… actually funny? He sighed, deleting a big chunk he thought was the unfunny bit and tried to figure out if he could come up with anything. Maybe with a well placed transition he could add the comedic timing he needed? No uh… Was the script actually good? He looked it over and it just… it sounded dumb. More dumb than usual, not even the good kind. He could feel a wave, as if through his spirit but no, it was the soon oncoming headache making his job way harder. But he worked until he could look at that screen. But did it become so… Uncomfortable. His eyes felt uncomfortable… The light… so much! It’s too much! 

He got up, he needed… He needed to do something else!

Each step he took away from his computer felt painful. It felt like precious time being wasted. So much time he could spend… creating. And he loves creating so that’s… This was just so wasteful!

He closed his door and it felt as if he could breathe again. The air was fresh, the castle was weirdly quiet and 4 decided to head for the kitchen. He could barely even comprehend anything around him with the change of scenery, let alone that this was supposed to be weird. 

He grabbed some milk and cereal to eat. He poured some. He stared at the bowl for a bit. Probably not long but who knows, time felt unreal to him then.

He started eating, each crunch feeling so loud. He wasn’t sure if he liked this or not. He remembered his video. How the joke carried in it. He chuckled which he did at the wrong time as he choked on his cereal for a second.

It was as if sobriety hit him. He was struggling but he never felt so real. For a second, nothing else existed but that stupid ass cereal trying to kill him. He resumed, now unnervingly awake. And the whole time he was, with the same intensity, it wouldn’t go away.

He finished up. He washed the bowl away he used along with the spoon as well, deciding it shouldn’t be left for later and definitely not because he was procrastinating.

He finished and just stood there. It had to be perfect. Ugh… The transition idea is awful, it could never work with the kind of joke he was telling there. Maybe something inbetween that other part of the joke so there’s just… some air there? Ugh where would he even need to go with this to make it right? Maybe stopping it for a second to explain the joke in a really matter of fact way to add some ironic layering to the whole bit? Ugh noooo… That was such a bad phase of jokes anyways! And it’s so old fashioned at this point! Only SMG3 would do such stupid things, it wasn’t 4’s thing to be a saint of dead memes or something. Without further thought, he discarded that thought. None of what he had in mind was good enough which meant he needed to do research…

He went to his room to search for his phone. He searched his bed, his desk, everywhere around his computer, the ground, any kind of surface where it could end up on. But it was nowhere. Instead, he found a note, attached to a trash bag he kept by his table. He decided to keep one there because the coffee cups from 3’s and all the ordered food he’d get made quite a lot of trash and he didn’t like leaving the room to take them out. Especially because of course he’d always need to take it out when he just really got into the zone. 

“Come to the café, we need to talk, you’ll get your phone back after” was written on the note.

4 didn’t know what to think for a moment. So… 3 took his phone, huh? There was slow rage building up in him. He was SO in the zone too, with his thoughts so strongly all about his to-be-perfect video. This time could’ve been it but noooo 3 had to play stupid games. Well, you know what they say… Fuck around and find out, SMG3.

4 went over, stomping to 3’s, but in such a tired way. But he didn’t realise that. He was too angry for that.

He saw Luigi, 3, Mario, Meggy and Tari at a table, talking. He also spotted his phone there on the table, luckily not in use at all. He didn’t need another dose of 3’s search history…

But this still felt so… So intimidating to him. Why were there so many of them? If it was just 3 he would fight him for his phone and then he’d quickly be back to work on his life work but nooo- Nooo instead it had to be many of his friends! And he frankly felt scared. He stood there for a while to the point that his friends noticed him. They stared at him and he stared back. He really didn’t want to go inside.

3 looked clearly more and more annoyed until he sighed, got up and walked towards 4. 4 didn’t know how to handle this. As the man got closer, he took a step back too, albeit not as many, making him rather easy for 3 to reach. And as soon as he did, without a word, even a hello or something, he dragged him inside the café by his arm. Not that 4 really resisted. While he was scared he was also still confused. This situation couldn’t be real… right? Damn it.

3 let go of 4 when he managed to finally get 4 to be in front of everyone. With all their eyes on him.

“Can I just get my phone back?” 4 asked, quietly. He didn’t want to seem like he was gonna lash out any moment. It was hard though… Who could even have an idea on what they could do to him if they had a reason to think he was in any way possibly unstable mentally. Not to say that wasn’t the truth though.

“Well-” Meggy said “This is… an intervention”

“Yeah, we’re worried for you, SMG4!” Tari said with sadness in her voice that almost managed to make 4 sad. 3 was now oddly silent.

“I don’t need an intervention! I’m a full time funnyman, I need to tend to it as well!”

“But SMG4! Even the funniest men need a break!” Mario pleaded “Mario would be so happy to see his best friend take a well deserved break!”

“I. DON’T. need… I DON’T NEED A BREAK!!” 4, although exhausted he still managed to scream at his friends.

“SMG4…” Luigi tried intervening “You do deserve one! You work so hard everyday! I don’t know anyone else who deserves a break as much as you do!”

“I have SO many better things to do than to argue with you guys! I have a video I still need to finish! I was SO close to finding the right thing to make it extra funny too! But you of course have to sabotage me with your cute little intervention, thinking it’s what I need! Well I don’t need this, in fact, this is making it so m-” 4’s rant was cut short by 3 slapping him. The room became hazed in silence. Nobody knew what to say. 3 was looking at 4 with a glare that could almost burn him away. Not that he could look away. 

“... And what was that for? I was clearly talking” 4 said, trying to keep his anger back.

“You-” 3 started.

“SMG3, we talked about this!” Meggy stopped him.

“Enough.” 3 looked at her. He sighed then looked back at 4 “SMG4. Do you know how fucking worried everyone is for you? It’s like you don’t care at all. I’ve never known someone AS selfish as YOU. And I’ve known some dastardly people yet no one comes close to the lack of care you demonstrate for your friends. BECAUSE you don’t look after yourself, we have to look after you and you push us away each time. Who’s the tsundere in this crew again, asshole?? WHO??”

“You don’t NEED TO CARE ABOUT ME!”

“YOU DON’T GET TO DICTATE THAT”

“Guys I think we should ca-” Tari tried to cut the fight off but failed.

“Well, I DON’T want your care. I’ll take my phone now. And then you have to leave me alone”

3 grabbed 4’s arms before he could take his phone.

“You’re DESTROYING yourself!”

“And it’s worth it”

“Do you really care so little about us?”

“Maybe I do”

3 let go of 4’s arms. Prolonged silence. 4 sobered up from his anger as he saw 3 start crying.

Before 4 could say anything, 3 spoke his mind instead.

“Good to know that everything I’ve ever said to you meant nothing then. Thanks for that, a-asshole” 3 left to his room without another word. 4 could only stand there stunned. God, did that hurt… Why did he have to even say that?

“If that’s how you feel” Mario said “Maybe it’s better if Mario leaves too” he then went to 3’s room, presumably to comfort him.

“Here’s your phone, go now” Meggy put his phone in his hands.

“Meggy-” 

“Don’t. Just go. You’ve caused enough damage as is. BESIDES you said you don’t care. So act like that”

“I… agree… If your work is more important to you than us then just go away” Tari forced it out then started crying.

“There there… It’s his loss” Luigi tried his best offering comfort to Tari before shooting a fast glare at SMG4. He wasn’t welcome there anymore.

He turned to leave with a strong grip on his phone. If he were to be choking his phone with a little more strength he would’ve broken it already. Regardless, his legs carried him back to his castle, a symbol of teamwork disgraced. And then back to his room, a reminder of the person he hurt the most. It hurt too much.

He sat in front of his computer, placing down his phone on his desk. Yet, he was unable to work. They really… he really shouldn’t have done that… Was he starting to become like that again? He swore he got over it but the need… The need to prove himself would just come back to haunt him anyways. Haunting him in his bones like tales he was supposed to learn from. And he’d be damned if he didn’t try and might as well be because he failed. What a better way than to sit and wallow in self pity over something he caused himself? He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. And yet he did. SMG3 was totally right, he had really grown so… selfish. But this stagnation of just sitting and doing nothing was killing him.

“Man…” he sighed loudly to himself “I wish I could forget and move on…”

“I could do that” a strange voice SMG4 hadn’t heard before called out.

“HUH WHAT HUH” he whipped his head around, searching where the voice could come from.

“I’m right here” the voice called out again. Finally 4 found them, looking back at them from their monitor.

He could only see them looking out from under a window he had open, it was his project. Due to it, he could only see some of them, for which he moved the window away from them. Finally, he could see the stranger in their computer, looking back at him a little unimpressed. With a cold green eye looking back at him, the other one obscured by their rather long one sided bang. Some of their hair was tied in a ponytail. Their dark gray lipstick also served quite the contrast with their fair skin. Then he noticed what seemed like a microphone attached on their scarf. It just felt… weird… Wait…

“Are you in any way affiliated with Mr Puzzles?” he looked at them sceptically.

“Not as far as I’m concerned.” they said “But yes, isn’t it rude of me to not introduce myself? I’m Ann Tertainment, but just call me Annie please…”

“Uhuh… Why are you in my computer… can I turn you off….”

“You can try” they grinned. 

SMG4 took this as a challenge, opening task manager. To his absolute horror, none of the programs listed in there could be traced back to them. 

“Damn…”

“Don’t be too sad… it’s gross… But… back to your laments, SMG4”

“Hm?”

“I could help you”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Which one do you care more about? Your friends or youtube?”

The question caught 4 off guard. It really stunned him.

“Why… Why are you asking me that?”

“I have the power to make you forget one or the other. If I make you forget about youtube, you can go and have fun with your friends without having to worry about your perfection complex again”

“Mhmm?”

“Or, I can make you forget about your friends so you can finally finish your lifework and make a perfect video and prove that you’re still worth it. Honestly, a rather fulfilling purpose… unless you care more about your friends”

4 looked in front of himself.

“I’ll give you time to choose but there is a time limit. By then, you have to decide, which way you want to go”

“A….Alright”

Was he genuinely considering this? Oh god…

By the time he could ask any more questions from Annie, they were gone. Dang.

---

Alright! Now you have to choose for SMG4 since he definitely can't!

some stuff before that:

- Please think of the implications of both choices before voting

- Sorry but there is no way to refuse Annie's offer, it's choose to forget something or perish

- By the end of the vote, I will add together all votes both from here and Tumblr to decide

- If overall vote goes over 100 votes, I will release both possible endings

This poll will also go at Google Forms too! And possibly for longer so if you miss the Tumblr one you might still get a chance at that one. Yes you're also allowed to do both Forms and Tumblr if you want, I can't check it in a meaningful way anyways

happy voting :3

[auroracalisto]

stay outta trouble, yeah?

tangerine x southern!reader, 3.7k words summary: he's taken by their southern accent, much like they're taken by his british one. color him intrigued, because why not? he'll be getting them to safety as soon as he can get away from the fight--or rather, telling them to get to safety. a/n: before you read the rest... there are a few lines i took from the movie to keep part of the plot alive. and then it goes haywire... anyway. listen i was just thinking about how incredible it would be to talk to tangerine and not actually hide my personal accent. here you go, pookies. (i'm from west virginia if that helps you). i've also never been farther than türkiye, so my knowledge of what it's like to travel to japan is very limited. pardon my inaccuracies even though i only talk about it for like... .2 seconds, at most. tw: major canon divergence, talks of blood, wounds, cursing, etc.

It'd been a long few days in Tokyo. Traveling for your own enjoyment was always an incredible thing, but good lord, was it exhausting.

The flight, which was non-stop from the Washington Dulles Airport, thank goodness, was nearly sixteen hours. No connecting flights, no dealing with confusing and unfamiliar airports. But just the flight itself was enough to send your sleeping pattern to all kinds of craziness. Don't even mention the fact that you had to drive to the airport, which took several hours just to get there...

Wasn't the first time, and certainly wouldn't be the last.

Travel was a luxury so many never had the opportunity to experience. When you had the chance to go to Japan, you took it. It was practically a dream vacation, despite how exhausting it truly was.

You'd come back to Tokyo after a few days in Nagoya, the second to last stop on this bullet train, maybe a quick day trip to Kyoto after, but time was of the essence. You may not have planned every little detail for this trip of a lifetime, but you had a good idea as to what you were going to do.

The bullet train would be at your stop in nearly two hours. That was plenty of time to take a nap and probably figure out what you'll do in Nagoya after finding your planned accommodations.

You found a seat in the "quiet" car, almost giddy to know that there was a car specifically for that. Being from the southern United States, the only actual train you could recall was the Amtrak Trains, but even then, you didn't know as much as you could have about them.

You kept your backpack close to you, trying to find your earbuds so you could have them before you actually sit down.

As you walked, absentmindedly, of course, you bump into a rather tall and, might I add, breathtaking man with one of those 80s' mustaches—like the guy from that one season of American Horror Story. It rather suited him, but that's not what you were thinking as the words quickly spilled from your mouth:

"I'm so sorry," you said, southern drawl instantaneous. "Wasn't watching where I was goin'."

The man looked down at you, blue eyes curiously catching yours. He smiled, and you could feel your heart melt within you. Or maybe your lungs. It seemed hard to breathe for a moment.

"No worries, love," he said, a very British accent joining his words. He scrunched his nose a bit and moved out of your way, while the man behind him muttered something under his breath. "No harm done."

You return his smile, although hesitantly. God, was he gorgeous. But that was beside the point. You moved around him, knowing you probably looked like a mess—you had only spent two nights in Tokyo, and they weren't very restful. Skincare could only do so much to make you look awake and not like you've risen from the dead just hours prior.

You choose a seat nearby where the British man and his two friends were sitting, putting your backpack on the table just in front of you. You grabbed your phone from your pocket, making sure you still had your charger in the pack, before you set up your earbuds and your music.

Your eyes flickered over to the British man, not saying anything as you opened your preferred playlist. He briefly glanced back at you and sent a rather cheeky smile before he looked back to the man in front of him.

"Fuckin' hell, mate," Lemon said as he looked at his brother. The man had made him move just so he could have an eye on the American who bumped into him. "Go and talk to ‘em, yeah? Leave me out of it."

Tangerine rolled his eyes. "Fuck off," he said. "We gotta job, yeah? Speakin' of." He stopped and looked towards the White Death's son, blinking slowly for a moment. "You gonna tell us much else or are you keepin' us in the dark?"

The Son mumbled something under his breath, tiredly looking out the window. He didn't know why he was here, other than the two brothers saying they were hired by his dad to get him to safety.

Right. Safety. What a joke.

"Right, so," Tangerine began. "Our job is to keep you safe and to recover the briefcase with the ransom money inside. And I plan on completin' my job and keeping..."

Tangerine looked at his brother, narrowing his eyes. "Lemon."

Lemon looked up at him. "Hmm?"

"Where's the briefcase?"

"Oh, I stashed it."

Tangerine stared at him in admonishment for a bit longer than necessary. "The case, Lemon. Go get me the fucking case."

"We got his son. That was our job."

"Our job was to come back with his son and his 10 million." Tangerine groaned softly and looked out of the window, sucking in a breath. "Three words describe our situation right now. Do you know what they are?"

"Sure do," said Lemon. He held up a hand and counted them off as he spoke: "Saved his son."

"Motherfucker," Tangerine blurted. He went on his spiel about the White Death, which seemed to be quite imperative as Lemon hadn't read the email he forwarded to him. Of course he hadn't—when did he ever? Why did he bother?

"He asked for pros who wouldn't fuck up," Tangerine said. "Three words, Lemon. We are..."

"Fucked." They say the words together, and if it had been another time, perhaps just hours prior, it would have been fun. Not this time. No, this time, they knew they were in deep shit.

They needed to get that suitcase and quick.

They returned to the Son only for him to be... well, let's put it frankly, bleeding from his eye-sockets and mouth, and so very dead.

"Well, shit," Tangerine sucked in a breath as he looked at the boy who had called him a liability only moments earlier.

The two trained assassins set to work on making it look like he was merely sleeping, even going as far as giving him Momonga glasses. You never know.

Tangerine looked at Lemon, frowning deeply. "We need t' find that briefcase," he said.

"Right," Lemon returned, staring at the Son for a moment before he looked up at Tangerine, nodding. "Right. Phone's on me. See if that American you ran into saw anything. Never know, yeah?"

Tangerine narrowed his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, seeing the object of his curiosity. "Hm. Go, Lemon. You see the case, deal with whoever has it."

"All right, how do I do that? Talk to him, or, like, talk to him?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell him about the story about how Gordon met Percy and how Percy's now bleeding from his fucking eye sockets!"

Lemon scoffed and left his side, going down the opposite side of the train.

"He means kill him. Of course he does."

Tangerine took one last look to the boy before he made his way to you, just a few seats down. He saw that you were asleep—surely, if you had been awake, you would've said something, right? Right. He's assuming, anyway. He keeps walking, knowing that he's got to find this briefcase and fast or else he and Lemon may not get a chance to even think about which arm they'd rather have cut off.

About twenty minutes into your restless nap, there's a loud noise blaring in your earbuds, and you jolt awake, grabbing onto your phone. You paused it, heart pounding in your chest.

"Damn," you cursed, knowing it was only from the song and nothing more. This song was notorious for loud noises. You take out your earbuds, a soft groan escaping you. Might as well stretch your legs and use the restroom since you're awake. It didn't seem like sleep was going to come easy on this train.

A voice came over the intercom, saying something about stopping momentarily, but you didn't catch the name of the station.

You stood and stretched, looking towards where the British man had been. He's not there, and neither is his one friend, but the other is there, sleeping. He's got the strangest glasses on, but you say nothing of it.

"Bathroom," you mutter under your breath, looking over your shoulder. You see a sign and follow it, taking your phone with you just in case.

You're quick, doing your business and washing your hands all under two minutes. Must be a record—the airplane bathrooms are so much more different than this.

You go to leave and open the door, and once again, you're not paying attention. You nearly bump into the tall, handsome British man, but this time, he is paying attention.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, a soft huff escaping him. "Watch yourself, love," he said, a playful smile on his lips (like he's not currently in one of the most stressful situations he's ever been in). "You're gonna get yourself hurt, now, aren't ya?"

Wide eyed, you looked up at him. "Shit, I'm sorry," you said. "It's—hell, I can't even give you a good excuse, but I didn't mean to."

"Nah, you're alright, love, just watch yourself for me, yeah?"

He let go of your shoulders, and you almost find yourself missing the touch.

"Go back to your seat, yeah? Keep an eye out for anyone weird for me."

You blinked slowly but nodded anyway. "Yeah, sure," you said. "You—"

But before you can continue, he sees something in the corner of his eye—either that or he hears something. You're not really sure. He flashes you a soft smile before he walked past you, clearly on a mission.

You let out a soft sigh and walk back to your seat, sitting down quietly.

As you get there, the British man's friend is back, and with another man—you don't catch their conversation, but whatever it is is rather heated. You simply put your earbuds back in and let your head fall back, unable to stop your eyes from fluttering shut. There's a few noises, but the sleep is far too good to come out of. At least, for now it is.

At some point, you feel someone shaking you awake. You quickly open your eyes, seeing the British man sitting across from you. He's got a few cuts on his face—not something he had before. You sat up and check your phone, eyebrows furrowed.

"What are you—"

You'd only been asleep for another twenty minutes.

"You're cute, love," he said, grabbing your phone from you.

"Hey—"

He held up a finger to you and quickly typed in a text message to his own phone. When he heard the buzz, he handed your phone back to you.

"Where's your stop, hm?"

"Nagoya," you answered. "Why?"

"Get off sooner, yeah?"

"What?"

He gave you a cheeky smile. "Get off sooner, love," he said. "Conductor must've missed you cuz you were sleepin', but he was sayin' that everyone needs to get off before Nagoya. Somethin' about the train needed worked on."

You blinked slowly. Were you still sleeping? You felt like you were. "Why the hell would they do that for? That don't even make sense—"

"Love, do it," he said, staring you down with those pretty blue eyes. "Get off on the next stop, yeah? I'll even give you the money for another ticket or somethin' if you need it."

You shook your head. "I can get another ticket, I just—"

There was something about the man that screamed danger, but no where did it scream liar. At least if he was a liar, maybe it was for good reason. Your gut feeling had been pretty good in the past, warning you against several things that could've gone terribly. Perhaps this was the Universe screaming at you to listen to it.

"Okay. I got the money. I'll just... I'll get off at the next stop."

He smiled softly at you. "Good. I'll be seein' you then, yeah? Keep yourself outta trouble."

He stood up, giving you a soft wink, before he left you in the quiet car.

You didn't see him again for the rest of the train ride, but you did listen to him. You got off at the next train stop and bought a new ticket, wondering if the cuts on his face had anything to do with his request.

It was a pretty nice warning, as crazy as that shit was.

Waiting for the next train, which would be there only momentarily, you pull out your phone. The only thing he had typed to his number was simple: Tangerine.

Was that codename for something? The fuck did fruit have to do with anything?

Nagoya, Japan.

A beautiful city with equally beautiful architecture (you'd be sure to visit the castle and the shrine after you finished exploring the city on your own terms).

You hadn't gotten a text from the handsome British man, but it didn't really bother you much. You didn't know him—just nearly ran into him a handful of times before he told you to get off the train.

Two days after the train ride to Nagoya, you find yourself on the streets, following your phone's GPS as best as you could to get to the castle. You should have just waved down a taxi cab, but you also wanted to experience the walk. That, in itself, was just as important as the journey over. Besides, your phone said only five minutes, but it seemed like it was re-routing and doing the exact opposite of being an accurate GPS.

You curse under your breath and go to type in another address in an attempt to see if it was just the castle address that was making your GPS wonky when you heard a familiar voice—you felt a familiar hand grab onto your shoulder.

"Be careful, love," the British man said, keeping you in your spot. You looked up—you're not even about to walk into anything, this time. You looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, hell," you blurted, wide eyed. "What the hell happened to you? Are you—" You pause, mouth gaped open as you look on in surprise. His friend, and that one long haired blonde guy, stand nearby. The one leaned up against the wall of a supermarket, while the other runs a hand through his blonde locks.

You looked up at him, lips parted. "Is that why you told me to get off the train?"

He gave you a pained smile. "Smart, love," he said.

There's a few people that pass by, mumbling about the sight of the rather bloodied and injured men.

"Shit," you said. "You—did you just come to Nagoya in hopes I'd still be here? What if I had been in Kyoto?"

"Guess some luck's on my side, then," he said.

"My—hell, come on, I've got a hotel room," you said. "You lot look like you've been to hell and back."

"Somethin' like that," the British man said.

"Shit," you mumbled once more, putting your hotel name back into your GPS. You had just come from there, but just in case, you didn't want to mess anything up. Especially not now. "Shit, dude, I don't even know your name—"

"Tangerine," he interrupted.

You blinked slowly as you began to walk. His friends follow behind.

"Like the fruit?" you question.

His friend snorted from behind the two of you. "Yeah, love, like the fruit."

You shrugged. "Codename?"

"Smart," Tangerine repeated, giving you a cheeky smile.

For someone who looked like he was in an immense amount of pain, he was sure cheerful.

You led them up to your hotel room, where the blonde immediately goes to the bathroom, running water in the sink and using it and a towel to try and clean some of the blood from his face.

Tangerine and the other, whom you now know as Lemon, sit on separate sides of the room—Lemon sits at the table and groans at the action, a hand on his side, while Tangerine sits on the edge of the bed.

There goes your plans to see the Nagoya Castle, but hell, this didn't seem like it would be anything you'd wanna miss out on. How often do you get three men in your hotel room like this?

Ah, fuck, scratch that—how often do you get a hot British man looking at you like that regardless of how beat up he currently looked?

You bit your lip and sit your phone on the dresser. "I, uh, my friend gave me a little kit of medicine and things before I left," you said, going to your open suitcase and pulling out a black bag. "Has like, bandaids and ibuprofen. Tums, maybe. I didn't even look to be honest."

You hand the bag to him.

Tangerine snorted softly, taking the bag from you and opening it up. You watch, seeing the scabs on his knuckles.

"Damn, what the hell happened to y'all?"

Tangerine glanced up at you, a small smile quirking on his lips. "All in due time," he said. "Don't think it's anything I wanna drag you into just yet."

You pursed your lips.

"Fuck," Tangerine mumbled. "This whole thing has been fuckin' bullocks," he said as he pulled out a couple of things from the kit.

"You can say that again," Lemon said, scoffing softly.

Tangerine tossed him a bottle of pain killers before he, himself, picked up a small bottle of antiseptic. "Be a doll and grab me a washcloth, yeah?"

You do as you're asked, moving past the blonde in the bathroom. He looked a bit worse for wear, but he seemed like he was doing far better than the other two.

You brought back the washcloth for Tangerine. "Can I help?"

"Nah, love, I'll be fine. Not the first time."

You grimaced. "Sounds painful."

"C'est la vie," Lemon said from where he sat, taking the unopened complementary water from the table and using it to take the pain killers. "You're a life saver, love."

"Hmm," you hummed, frowning softly as you looked at Tangerine.

He glanced up at you as he cleaned his knuckles. He had plenty of other places to clean, of course, but the idea of moving from his spot on the bed sounded like hell. His abdomen was screaming at him for just breathing.

"I never got your name," Tangerine softly said.

"Yeah," Lemon interjected. "Been callin' you his little American this whole time. Don't let him lie to you."

Tangerine blanched, glaring over at Lemon, before he looked up at you. "Maybe," he said. "Don't listen to him. He's a little shit-stirrer."

You smiled a bit. He's endearing if not... unconventional in his methods. Whatever that meant. You'd learn soon enough, it seemed.

You gave him your name.

He repeated it, and it was almost like heaven pouring from his lips as he spoke.

God, you'd have a hell of a time trying to explain this back home.

Tangerine snorted softly and finished cleaning up his knuckles—just on the one hand, though. He still had so much to get through.

"Must've made quite an impression if you come to Nagoya just to find me," you blurted, taking the bottle of antiseptic and the cloth from him. He didn't protest. He simply watched as you wet the other side of the cloth and took his hand in your own to clean his knuckles.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? The accent got me."

You blinked slowly, eyes flickering to his. "The accent?"

"Oh, yeah, love," he said. "Ladybug in there is an American, but you? It's like a whole other breed of American. I don't know if I can get enough of it."

Lemon scoffed and tossed the bottle of painkillers to his brother. "Stop flirting and let them clean your hand."

Tangerine rolled his eyes, watching your hands as they moved against his wounds.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"Sorry? For what?"

"For not having anything to really help you," you said. "I'm sure it woulda helped if I had a first aid kit or somethin'."

He raised an eyebrow. "Think you would've been insane for havin' a first aid kit when you're traveling all alone," he said. "Who woulda thought you'd run into little ol' me?"

"Little ol' you, hm?"

Tangerine's soft smile is unmistakable, but you make no mention of it. You let go of his hand and he examined it, letting out a soft hum. You did well enough, he supposed.

Tangerine let out a soft groan as a pain rippled through his abdomen. He laid back on the bed without another word, a hand resting on his body. This would be a hell of a pain to heal, but he was sure it would happen soon enough.

"Sorry for barging in on you like that, love," Lemon spoke up. He drew your attention away from Tangerine. "Tangerine over there kept quippin' on and on 'bout how he just had to see you again. Thought he was a broken record or some shit with how often he said it."

The handsome man in front of you didn't even object this time. He just went with it.

"Right, yeah, and what were you sayin'? Hope they have a nice hotel room that fits all us, yeah?"

"Absolutely not," he scoffed. "Don't be a prick."

Tangerine rolled his eyes. "Lemon—"

"—anyway," Lemon interjected. "We'll be out of your hair as soon as we possibly can. Don't want to outstay our welcome, and I'm sure you've got plans, hm?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"—we won't stay long, promise."

"No, I—I mean I do have plans, but you can stay as long as you need to."

Tangerine snorted softly and glanced at you from where he laid on his bed. "You're rather trusting, aren't you?"

You blinked slowly. "Well—"

"—be careful, love," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "You should really watch yourself, before you get yourself into trouble."

You parted your lips, and the words escaped you before you even thought to stop them: "Think I'm a bit too late for all that."

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 2

Part 1

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

---

"Hey, look, if this is some kind of Halloween prank-"

"It's not a prank!" Dustin insists. "Look-"

He fumbles at his chest, and Steve realizes what he's doing just before he pulls his heart out.

"Woah, hey, hey, don't go bringing that out with cat eating lizards around!" Steve tells him.

"It's not a lizard!" Dustin says.

It's dark, and Steve can't see the details of his heart all that well, but he can see the way it beats - racing a little, from the danger, but still steady. No hint of deception.

"See? Not a lizard, not a prank. It's one of those things again, Steve, only a baby one. A demodog."

Great.

"All right, I believe you, now just - put that away before it gets eaten."

Somewhat to Steve's surprise, Dustin obeys, tucking his heart back inside his chest.

"Now you," Dustin says.

"What? No way."

"Come on!" Dustin whines. "I showed you mine."

"Yeah, cause you're the one with something to prove," Steve reminds him. "I'm the one you suckered into this, and there's no way I'm taking my heart out with a demodog lurking around. Just stay up here, okay? I'll go take care of this."

—

Max Mayfield has her heart securely inside her chest even before she believes any of them about the Upside Down.

There's not that many reasons kids that young wouldn't wear their hearts pinned to their shirts, or poking out of one pocket or another, but Steve can think of a few.

He hadn't expected to get saddled with another kid when he let Dustin into his car, but she slides right in like she was one of them the whole time.

And if he makes sure he doesn't ask what she's doing here, if he just starts working on shoring up the bus and treats her like she belongs there right from the start, that's between him and her.

When she asks him if he's really fought one of these things before, for a moment he thinks about pulling his own heart out so she can see for herself.

But there's a monster prowling around outside, and getting caught with his heart out isn't going to help him protect these kids.

Besides, when he makes sure the demodogs target him, when he throws himself in front of the kids - he hopes that's more of an indication of who he is, who he wants to be, than his slightly battered heart could ever show.

—

If Steve's honest, he's not entirely sure how they get back to the Byers’ from the tunnels. He knows he drives, knows Max complains in his ear the whole time about how he drives like a grandma, knows every time he glances over at her there's a sullen, almost fearful expression on her face, like she's afraid he's going to yell at her or keel over and pass out in the middle of the road.

He's not ruling out the second one.

But they make it, and they beat everyone else back. Billy's still unconscious in the living room, and the house is eerily silent for about a minute before Steve catches himself.

“Hands washed, everyone,” he calls out. “Hands and arms and any exposed skin. And make sure you gargle with mouthwash.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Mouthwash?”

Steve points at him. “Mouthwash has alcohol in it, you little shit, it might kill any gross Upside Down bacteria you breathed in. But hey, you want to be tasting that place for a week, be my guest.”

There's a moment of silence, then everyone scurries to fight over one of the sinks.

Steve waits until they're all done before following his own advice, then finally sinks down onto the couch with a groan.

Dustin hands him a bag of mostly still frozen vegetables, probably picked up from the kitchen where they'd dumped everything to put the demodog in the freezer. Steve grimaces at the thought of Mrs. Byers coming home to that, but slaps the bag on his head anyway.

It helps, a little.

There's an argument about what to do with Billy that Steve only half listens to. Max apparently threatened him with Steve's bat after she snuck up and stabbed him with the syringe, which - shit, good for her. Steve's guessing that'll make Billy think twice before he messes with her.

He stays out of the argument, though. He already knows the only answer is going to be let Hopper deal with it.

Admittedly, when Hopper and everyone else does come back, Steve's a little out of it. He's on his feet at the sound of cars approaching, baseball bat in his hand and urgently gesturing for the gremlins to stay the fuck behind him.

If his reflexes were any less dulled by the aching pain at the back of his head, he might have taken a swing when the door opened before he realized who it was.

But fortunately, he just sags with relief, and returns to his spot on the couch with the bat resting against his knee.

It's only when he hears the kids all trying to talk over each other that he realizes someone must have asked them what happened.

Steve pries his eyes open - unsure when he even closed them, shit - to find Mrs. Byers staring at him, clearly concerned. He jolts with the surprise of seeing her so close, and doesn't quite manage to hide his wince of pain, judging by her expression.

“Steve, honey?” she asks.

It sounds like a prompt to answer the question he didn't hear, and he grimaces.

“I'm the babysitter,” is what manages to make its way out of his mouth. “Nothing is getting at those little gremlins without going through me.”

Mrs. Byers looks at him in a way he doesn't really recognize, something between soft and sad and - proud, maybe? Like maybe he did something right, even though it makes her sad.

She holds out her hands, and helps pull him to his feet when he takes them.

“Let's get you patched up,” she says, leading him back to the master bedroom.

He sits on the bed while she gets a first aid kit from the bathroom, watching her through a faint, blurry haze as she takes a closer look at him.

“I didn't win,” he says, feeling a little bit ashamed.

Her eyes go a little bit wet, and she makes a soft tsk noise. “Oh, honey. Winning doesn't matter.”

That throws him so badly that he just stares up at her.

“It doesn't?” he asks, once he's accepted that he's probably not going to get his thoughts in any kind of order.

“That sounds like your father talking,” she says, but her voice is gentle as she starts cleaning up the blood on his face.

“You don't think he's right? That I should be more like him?” The question is out before Steve really realizes - out before he really thinks about it, out before he can admit that he doesn't want to know the answer.

Mrs. Byers pulls back a little, looking at him. “Can I see your heart?”

His hands are at his chest so quick that he fumbles with it, and by the time he pulls it out - it's the same dark red as always, despite the deep, jagged crack running through it, and it pulses unsteadily with his uncertainty.

“No one's asked to see it in a long time,” he says, awkwardly trying to explain away the wobbly beat of his heart in his hands.

She looks sad again, for a moment, then she pulls her own out. It's a slightly paler red, lined with thin silver scars, and it's beating a little fast - adrenaline, he thinks - but it's steady, and it's redder than any adult he's ever seen.

“What happened tonight, Steve?” she asks softly.

“They were in danger,” he replies, because it's the simplest, truest explanation.

“And you protected them.” It's half a statement, half a question, and he tears his gaze away from her heart to find her still looking at him, her eyes dark and warm.

“Yeah,” he says, his heart starting to pump a little more steady against his palms.

Like he said to Nancy - he might have been a shitty boyfriend, but he's a damn good babysitter. Those kids are his.

“Might not be much,” he admits, fully aware she's just coming back from fighting some being from an alternate dimension trying to get her son, and there's a whole girl with super powers out there getting dog piled by her friends. “But it's me between them and anything else, Upside Down or whatever. All of them.”

Just in case she wasn't sure if that included Will or not.

Her eyes drop down to his heart, beating steady and sure - and then she leans in, pressing their foreheads together for a moment before she pulls back.

“You're a good kid,” she says, and her heart beats strong, saying true, true, true. “You're as much like your father as Jonathan is like his, and that's a good thing.”

His heart spasms in his hands, and he curls his fingers in a little like he can hide it, though he doesn't even attempt to put it away.

“I was mean to him,” he admits in a rush. “Last year.”

Mrs. Byers snorts. “You were sixteen,” she informs him. She tucks her heart back into her chest, and gets back to work on patching him up. “He said you apologized, and he's forgiven you.”

Steve doesn't stop her, still doesn't try to put his heart back in his chest. “I didn't finish apologizing, though. It doesn't mean anything if you just say you're sorry, and you don't say what for.”

He knows, because before his dad stopped apologizing at all - he'd always say he was sorry, but he'd never say why. Like he knew his mom or Steve were upset at him, and he knew he had to apologize to get them to not be upset, but he didn't actually give enough of a shit to figure out the why.

Or to stop doing it, but at least Steve managed that one.

“I think your actions were a little more important to him than your words,” Mrs. Byers says, like she can read his mind.

Steve doesn't know what to say to that, so he just lets her finish patching him up.

—

“Kids say Billy Hargrove put his hands on Lucas first,” Hopper says.

Steve scoffs. “Yeah, that's one way of putting it.”

Hopper looks at him, long enough that Steve feels his stomach start to squirm a little. “What's your way of putting it, then?”

“Hargrove's a piece of shit,” Steve says bluntly, too tired and in pain to care. “Come on, Hopper, you know exactly why he targeted Lucas out of all of them.”

Hopper's jaw sets. “I do. And Lucas doesn't want to press charges. So. How do we convince Hargrove to stay the hell away?”

Steve opens his mouth, closes it again, and swallows roughly. “You want me to help figure it out? Why?”

Hopper raises his eyebrows at him. “Seems like you've already been doing a pretty good job at it.”

It's a good thing he'd put his heart back in his chest, because Steve wouldn't want Hopper to see the way it beats a little quicker.

It's strange, having this much adult attention on him. Having people who ask to see his heart, who tell him that he did a good job, who give a shit, even if it's only because Steve's gotten himself involved in all of this mess.

He likes it, he thinks. He likes being seen as someone who can be counted on, someone who can help protect the kids, more than he'd ever liked being seen as popular.

“I could arrest him, easy,” Hopper says. “But something tells me he's used to getting in trouble with the police, and it'll just make him more pissed off.”

“We don't want to get him in trouble,” Steve says slowly, thinking it over. “We want to make sure he knows we're the only reason he's not in trouble.”

Hopper grunts, looking at him expectantly, and Steve realizes it's a silent encouragement to continue.

“If it seems like you're going to arrest both of us, he'll be more willing to work with me on something that'll keep us both out of trouble. He knows I won't want it to get back to my dad or to Coach, but he won't want it to get back to his dad even more. We just have to make sure he knows he has just a little bit more to lose than I do.”

Hopper's looking at him still, in a way that Steve can't figure out.

“It's high school,” he says, feeling the need to - to offer some kind of explanation, some kind of excuse for why he knows how to do this.

“It's politics,” Hopper says, a little wry, a little bitter.

“It's bullshit,” Steve spits out, the word tasting like a chewed up rubber band.

“Damn straight it is,” Hopper agrees. “But it's reality. Sometimes - sometimes you have to play by other people's rules, do things you know are bullshit, make some deals.”

His eyes flicker, back towards the living room, and Steve wonders what deals he's had to make to keep the government off their backs, to keep El hidden and safe.

“I hate it,” Steve says, soft and raw.

He's never admitted that to anyone else, and he has no idea why he says it now, but it makes Hopper's mouth twist a little, something like understanding in his eyes.

“Me too, kid. Me too.”

That's why it's him and Hopper out here, Steve thinks. Sometimes you have to do things you don't want to, sometimes you have to play their bullshit game to get what you want. Something slides a little bit into place - knowing that he isn't alone, that what he wants isn't any of the pointless things he used to do this for.

It's to protect this weird little group that, somehow, have become the most important people in his life.

“You're our babysitter now, right?” Hopper asks after a few minutes. “Make sure he knows that. Knows it's my kid that he's messing with if he comes after them or you again.”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a nod. “Yeah, that'll work.”

—

Billy wakes up next to him in the backseat of Hopper's car, hands cuffed behind him. It takes him a minute to clock onto where he is, and a minute longer to realize that Steve's next to him, also in cuffs.

“Who the fuck called the cops?” he hisses at Steve.

Steve shrugs. “How the hell should I know? Neither of us were exactly conscious at the time, thanks to you.”

Billy sneers at him. Steve can see him trying to collect himself through the haze of the sedative wearing off. “Here's how this is going to go. You want to keep it from happening again, you do exactly what I-”

Steve laughs at him. “Dude. They did a drug test already. Where did you even get the stuff you were on?”

Billy goes still. It sets Steve's teeth on edge - it's the same still he'd felt sitting in the junkyard, waiting for Dart. But he knows what he has to do now just as much as he did then, and he lets himself sulk as he leans back against the seat and watches Billy think.

If he says Max drugged him against his will - one, he's admitting to the fact that a thirteen year old girl got the best of him, and two, he has to be smart enough to know that Max would never admit to that, and the kids would all back her up. Billy was the one who showed up looking for a fight, Billy was the one who threw the first punch, Billy was the one who smashed a plate over Steve's head - no way in hell the cops believe him over the kids.

Billy scoffs. “Guess I better spread the word that the Freak is lacing his shit with who the fuck knows what.”

Shit, of course that's where Billy goes. Steve scrambles for a moment, then fixes him with an unimpressed look.

He can salvage this. Munson is pretty much the only supplier around, most of the guys aren't willing to mess with him too much - and if Billy does try to spread it around, it won't be too hard to add onto the rumor that it's just because Billy did something to piss Munson off.

“Maybe you should be nicer to him,” he says with a snort. “Munson always gives me the good stuff.”

Billy just snarls at him. It's clear he's got his story, and he's going to go with it.

Steve shrugs - or as best as he can, with his injuries and his hands cuffed behind his back. “Your funeral, man.”

“The fuck are you talking about,” Billy grumbles.

“You're going to tell the cops that you bought shitty drugs from the Freak, went on a bender, tried to attack some little kids, and beat the shit out of a teammate?” Steve asks.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Harrington, I'm going to-” he pauses, and Steve sees the moment that he clocks what Steve is saying.

It doesn't matter how Billy tries to phrase it to the cops to make himself look better - that isn't the story that's going to get around.

“You breathe one word of that around school, and you're dead,” Billy says.

Steve takes it back. This is nothing like that junkyard - Billy may actually try to kill him, but he has nothing on demogorgons and demodogs. Steve isn't scared of him.

“Yeah, because that won't prove any of it true.” Steve smirks, unconcerned that it makes his lip split open. “You put one hand on me and it just backs it all up.”

“Can't exactly gloat about that from a hospital bed. You'll be the one taking a beating that makes this seem like a walk in the park,” Billy replies, his tone low and menacing.

Steve thinks of the sound of the kids screaming on that bus, the sound of flesh splitting open when the demodog peeled its face apart, the endless fangs dripping saliva as it shrieked at him. He meets Billy's gaze and holds it. “I look like I give a shit, Hargrove?”

Billy looks at him - really looks, and Steve sees a flicker of something in his eyes. It isn't jealousy, it isn't recognition, it isn't fear, it isn't hate, it isn't want - Or maybe it is, maybe it's all of them. Maybe Steve is too tired and far too concussed for this.

Maybe his lack of ability to give a single fucking shit about Billy Hargrove and his threats is what gets him through this.

“So what's the play?” Billy asks, biting the words out as though it physically pains him to say them.

“We were blowing off steam, got a little too carried away. But it's all good now. You and me, we're square.”

Billy considers that, and he looks - comfortable. He looks like this is something he's done before, and briefly Steve wonders how many times Billy's gotten into fights, gone way too far, and had to hash out something like this to keep from getting busted.

“Yeah, all right,” Billy says. “Stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours.”

“And stay the fuck away from the little shits I babysit,” Steve says. “I hear from any of them that you've been giving them trouble, and the deal's off.”

Billy sneers at him again. “No one told me King Steve spends his free time babysitting.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, bet no one told you that one of them belongs to the chief of police, either.”

Billy's eyes narrow. “You're watching Hopper's kid?”

Steve shrugs, nonchalant in a way that he knows will work better than trying to lie.

“Fine,” Billy says, sounding pissed as hell about it. You've got a deal.”

–

Billy gets released and peels out in his Camaro, loud music already blaring from the window.

Steve, on the other hand, gets a ride home from Hopper himself.

He doesn't hate it.

“Second time in less than two years that I've seen you with a busted up lip.”

Steve's got a hell of a lot more than a busted up lip right now, but he's not gonna say that. “Yeah, well. I deserved the one last year.”

Hopper raises his eyebrows at him.

Steve resists the urge to slouch in his seat. “I was angry, and hurt, so I got mean. I wanted Jonathan to fight me.”

Hopper snorts something that sounds like teenagers.

It's quiet for a moment, then Steve says, “But I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to be mean when I'm angry.”

Hopper's looking at him in a way Steve can't make out, not in just the muted light of the streetlamp. That seems to be a theme for the night - Steve'd thought he was a little off last year when Jonathan socked him in the face, but apparently that has nothing on a concussion like this.

“So… I'm trying,” Steve adds softly.

Hopper shakes his head. “If I'd have figured that out when I was your age, who knows where I'd be?”

He sounds - proud, or something like it. He sounds like Steve's favorite coach, when Steve'd done well.

“Maybe,” Steve says. “But I think we all like you right here.”

Hopper snorts. “Jesus, kid, get out of here. Go put something better on that head than a bag of half frozen peas.”

-----

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette allowed Luka to lead her through the forest, his tiny hand holding her even tinier one. Looking down, she could admire the black of his nails, wishing she could match him yet knowing that her mother would tell her it's "impractical," whatever that word meant.

But that was okay. Having met Luka around a year ago, she was just happy to spend time with him and go on whatever adventures they could get away with in their childhood. His grip was unwavering and, despite its gentleness, she truly felt as if no one could pull her away from him if they tried.

Her feet were a little unsteady as they walked, but he went slow enough that it didn't hinder either of them. Whether he did it on purpose or not, she was thankful for him, only having a bully back at home to deal with rather than any kind of friends.

"Almost there," Luka announced, though quiet enough that it might've been him muttering to himself rather than her. There was a tinge of excitement she could detect in his voice, a sure sign that he'd been anticipating this just as much as her.

The forest was so thick and the trees were so tall that barely any light could show through the leaves. Anywhere patches of sun did show through, tiny flowers were growing, and the two of them slowed or changed course so as to not to step on them even if it made the trip longer.

But finally, Marinette saw light coming from the gaps between the tree trunks, her pace picking up eagerly.

She initially flinched when her eyes had to adjust to the light, but that was how she knew they'd arrived. A village, right in the middle of festivities, laid itself out in front of them, people walking around and talking amongst themselves without batting an eye at them. Fairy lights - which she understood as a magical form of light that grew brighter the closer to nighttime it got - were strewn about everywhere, only giving off a faint shimmer in the pinkish, purplish tint of the afternoon.

"Luka!" she exclaimed in a hush whisper, shaking his arm. "It worked! You did it!"

He beamed at her. "You did it too. Our clothes would look weird if you didn't."

She blushed at the praise, unconsciously gripping his arm tight. Where she'd come from, the types of clothes they'd needed would've been entirely worthless, so it was rare to hear anyone praise her knowledge (as much knowledge as a child could absorb anyway) on the subject. She was simply fascinated by such attire and went through all the necessary research to make sure they'd blend right in.

Coming during festivities was intentional, as everyone would be too busy having fun to pay attention to them. It was also a good excuse for Luka not to have to dye the blue highlights in his hair black, which Marinette insisted he shouldn't have to because they were too pretty to hide. There, highlights in one's hair were just seen as a fun, colorful, and temporary thing to do for the festival.

In other words, they were just two kids wandering through a village like they belonged there, and no one would concern themselves with them unless they appeared truly lost. Marinette involuntarily puffed her chest out, wanting to appear confident in the face of any curious eyes.

Luka giggled next to her, imitating the pose. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Hm?" She glanced at him, then their surroundings. Dodging people would be difficult given their heights in comparison to adults, but she suspected that would change as the day progressed. Furthermore, while the villagers were clearly taken by the festival, she was taken by everything, having never been in such a place before.

Grinning, she said only half-jokingly, "Everywhere!"

—————

Playing by ear, as Luka might've put it, 'everywhere' started with a stand that seemed to be boasting about some sort of game: a typical choice for children, but very new for them. The person behind it was highly enthusiastic, waving at anyone who even glanced their way. It was funny, so they were drawn to it.

"Hey there, boy and girl!" the person greeted with a clap of their hands. "Do one of you want to play? Every customer's first game is free, and if you win then you get anything here as a prize!"

Behind them were shelves lined with handcrafted plushies, pillows, and tiny wooden figurines. Marinette turned to Luka to check his interest, but he looked oddly unimpressed with the display.

Still wanting to try anyway, Marinette climbed up onto the stool in front of the stand and bopped the counter with both hands. "I'll play! Um, how do I play?"

The person smiled, pulling out a few cards shaped like leaves and placing them upside-down along the counter, muttering something as they went. Behind them, Marinette took in the main attraction that she assumed must be the "game": a fake tree that had six "levels," each level designated by a single hole with a branch coming out the bottom of it. She blinked, wondering what the connection was, then looked down at the cards and noticed that there were also six of them.

Touching one experimentally, it didn't move but flashed orange and let out an awful (albeit brief) noise. She scrunched her nose up in displeasure, reminded of the sound of her bully's whining.

"My little friend can explain the rest," the person behind the stand added, looking over at the tree.

One of the holes on the lower half flashed green, a small fairy emerging from it and landing gracefully on the branch. They bowed, waving to their captivated audience of two and explaining, "We'll give you one minute to play. I'll be hiding in the tree and pop out of each hole at random to stand on the branch. You need to touch the card that matches it when that happens."

Marinette remembered then that the hole the fairy had come out of was green. Staring at it, it was the third hole from the bottom, and the card that flashed orange was second to the left. It must've been like a rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. The cards hadn't actually been leaves either, they were shaped like the fairy's wings.

The fairy smiled knowingly at her understanding of the game. "I'll go slow for the first thirty seconds, but don't expect me to go easy on you after that just because you're a child."

She pouted, leaning forward in determination with her hands hovering over the cards. The fairy slipped back into the game's tree and the person nearby raised a hand, a wordless gesture to tell her to prepare.

"Ready?" they asked. At her nod, they counted down, "Three... two... one... go!"

They threw their hand down and the fairy immediately popped out from the hole that flashed yellow. Marinette followed by smacking the third card, which let out a pleasant 'ding' noise this time rather than a bad one. When the fairy slipped back in, it took a few seconds before they popped out of another hole, this time blue. Marinette hit the second-to-last card that time.

The game went on like that as the fairy had promised, a consistent rhythm of them popping out for a second, disappearing, and popping out somewhere else. She followed their movements easily enough, going from green to red to purple and then green again.

So far, so good. With each affirming 'ding', a strip of color was added to the fairies wings, corresponding with the color of the hole they'd left.

Then, the thirty seconds passed and things started to speed up. The fairy wasn't waiting as long this time whenever they went back inside the tree, so Marinette had to be quicker with her taps. It was also a little more tricky as it wasn't guaranteed to be a different color anymore: sometimes she had to hit orange twice in a row.

Despite Luka's disinterest in the prizes, she could feel his interest in her playing. His eyes never left the cards under her hands and she was starting to feel the pressure. She really wanted to win and impress him.

Ten seconds left. The fairy wasn't messing around anymore and the timing became more erratic. They barely popped out at all before going back in and Marinette was expected to know where the cards were now, no longer having the time to look down at them to check.

Orange, purple, green, green, and then green again. Red, blue, orange—!

Marinette's hand flew up in the air in shock as the unpleasant whine signified a failure. She blinked rapidly, needing a second to realize what had happened: that, in her panic, she hit yellow instead.

The holes all flashed at once, then slowly dimmed with a fading whirring noise to signify the end of the game. She'd lost, and even worse was that she could see the colored strips along the fairy's wings as they emerged to perch on one of the branches. All the colors she had tapped went along the whole of the wings - disregarding how tacky it looked - barring the very end, which was just barely uncolored.

"You did your best, kid," the person at the stand complimented, leaning on the counter. They appeared genuinely impressed. "I don't think anyone here has gotten as far as you on their first try. Do you want to go again?"

Marinette's competitive side wanted to push for another round, but she didn't have that much money on her. It seemed like such a waste to use it up on something she might not win.

"...No," she replied reluctantly, the frown evident in her voice. She hopped down from the stool, disappointed, but a clattering noise from that same stool made her look back.

Luka had gotten up onto it, raising a hand and insisting, "I want a try."

That was weird to her. It made sense for him to watch her play, but not for him to play if he didn't even want any prizes. Granted, if the first try was always free, there at least wasn't any harm in trying either.

The fairy fluttered their wings, the strips of color evaporating off as if they'd never been there in the first place, then they happily slipped back into the nearest hole. Marinette watched on curiously as the countdown was repeated, wanting to see how well her best friend would do.

The game began, Luka watching each hole carefully and looking down when he needed to. Red, green, yellow, all carefully tapped as he kept his focus on the fairy. Normally, Luka wasn't as good with games as she was, but Marinette supposed he could've been playing just to play. Maybe it looked like fun.

Thirty seconds passed by successfully, meaning it was time to speed up again. Much to Marinette's surprise, Luka dropped his eyes fully to the cards on the counter, no longer looking at the fairy anymore. That, reasonably speaking, seemed in every way a losing strategy, but the first tap Luka made went off cleanly.

Then the second, then the third, and before long she realized that whatever he was doing was working. Purple, blue, yellow, yellow, orange, and he wasn't even breaking a sweat. Marinette gripped the counter in anticipation, unable to count the exact seconds but feeling the time pass in the back of her head.

She got on her tiptoes, wanting to cheer him on but afraid of throwing him off if she did. Her ankles ached from the awkward position, but she didn't even notice in the heat of the moment.

He was getting close to where she'd been, which could be gauged by the fairy picking up their pace. Marinette watched the cards light up under Luka's touches, seeing the hole of the tree flash right before it out of the corner of her eyes. She felt so tense that it was almost like she was the one playing, and she wondered if that was what it was like for Luka watching her earlier.

The one difference was that, with one, final tap on the blue card, he beat the game. She gasped, watching the final flash of the tree as the fairy flew out with strips of color going all along their wings, signifying his victory.

The person behind the stand staggered backwards, putting a hand to their chest in awe. "Wow! Congratulations! You did great!"

The fairy even clapped for him, nodding along to the praise.

Luka didn't particularly acknowledge the victory until Marinette awkwardly hopped up onto one of the horizontal pieces on the lower part of the stool, squeezing Luka in celebration. "That was so cool!"

He had to lean away to avoid the stool toppling over, but he happily returned the hug with one arm. "Thanks, but I got it from seeing you play first."

"Then we both got it!" she corrected. She didn't know if he was telling the truth, but she wouldn't complain if it joined the two of them together in some way.

The person at the stand gave them a few more seconds to themselves, then gestured at the shelves behind them to ask, "So? What kind of prize do you want?"

Luka narrowed his eyes at the prizes, looking all over without committing to any of them. It was taking him longer to pick something than it did for him to play, but slowly, his gaze dropped down and he pointed with his free arm. "That."

Marinette squinted, leaning forward a bit, and saw what he'd requested when the person raised their arm up confusedly. On their wrist was a spiral bracelet wrapping around half their forearm in the colors of the rainbow.

"This?" They waved him off. "This isn't one of our prizes. Those are on the shelves back there."

They jabbed a thumb behind them, but Luka wasn't deterred. "You said we could have anything here as a prize."

"...Ah—?"

They were baffled, then jerked their head towards their fairy companion, who'd suddenly burst into laughter at what was going on.

"Aw, just give it to him!" they said, wings fluttering in tune with their giggles. "He just won a second time against us with that!"

The person snorted, having not expected any of this today, but relented and slipped the bracelet off. "Alright, you little sneak. A deal's a deal."

Luka accepted the bracelet, giving it a final look before holding it out to Marinette. With a soft smile, he said, "Here."

"Oooo~" Keeping one arm around him, she held the bracelet up to the sky with the other, watching the colors shift depending on how the light was hitting it. "It's neat!"

She went to hand it back to him, but Luka's hand had dropped into his lap, curled into a fist so she couldn't. A beat of silence passed, which is how long she'd needed for it to click with her.

"W-wha—" She let go of him, losing her balance on the stool. The drop wasn't at all high, so her feet hit the ground without a stumble. "But why?"

He cast a glance at the shelves. "You can't take any of those home."

So he'd thought about giving her a gift all along? That's why he looked at the shelves like that? And that wasn't even what she meant!

"But..." She stopped short, staring down at the bracelet again and running her fingers over its surface. She'd already been planning to get Luka something anyway, and she had wanted a souvenir from her experience there. Wouldn't the souvenir being from Luka make it all the more special?

Wordlessly, she accepted the gift by putting it on herself. It was too large for her own arm, so she slipped it onto one of her legs instead, wiggling the leg experimentally to make sure it wouldn't fall off. By the time she'd confirmed it, Luka had hopped off the stool so they could continue on their way.

Holding his hand so as to not get lost (one of the few lessons from her parents that she was actually following at the moment), she walked alongside him and asked, "How'd you do that anyway?"

He gave her a curious glance, clueless.

"What you did!" She waved back at the stand. "You beat it without looking!"

"Mmm..." He tilted his head. "But I heard it."

"Huh?"

He made a flapping motion with his free hand. "I heard the wings echoing in the tree, and they stopped when they got to a hole."

He could hear the wings flapping in the tree and know which hole the fairy would come out of from the way he heard it echo and stop?!

Marinette exhaled in disbelief, leaning against him. "But you're my best friend, so I already thought you were the best!" Looking up at him, she genuinely asked, "Does that make you my best best friend now?"

Luka let out a small noise, covering his mouth in a rare show of embarrassment. "It was just a game."

"No it wasn't! 'Cause you won it for me!"

He relented to her point after enough pressing.

—————

Marinette totally, definitely hadn't been searching for one, but one of their next stops was a store that just so happened to have toys in the window. There was a sound of a bell as they walked in and she peered up at it, wondering if someone must've hung it there as a prank to annoy whoever worked there.

Regardless, she had a mission and dismissed the thought to eye the store. Her grip on Luka's hand tightened in determination, but then she noted that she wouldn't be able to secretly buy him anything if she clung to him. She'd even need her other hand to properly inspect the quality of whatever she was buying.

"I'm gonna go over here," she told him, letting go of him to point in a random direction.

"Okay." He nodded, immediately heading there and misinterpreting her entirely.

"A-ah, wait, wait!" She hurried to get in front of him and pressed against his chest with her hands to stop him. "I mean, we should play hide-and-seek, so I'll go over there to count!"

He stared at her, then looked around as she had done earlier, though for very different reasons. Thankfully, the store was big enough, having more than enough shelves, clothing racks, and random objects to either hide around or hide behind. She even saw a few plushes even bigger than her that would make for a good hiding place, though she questioned how a giant would fit into the store to buy one.

"I'll go hide," Luka agreed after an agonizing few seconds. He turned away, getting ready to walk, but stopped to look over his shoulder at her in confusion.

Right, she needed to go count.

Marinette headed off in the direction she'd pointed to, trying not to be obvious about staring at the things she passed on the way. Some of them were candy and snacks, but she didn't want to give Luka anything that wouldn't last. She didn't want to buy him any of the children's books either, because if they were called children's books then that meant it wouldn't be a gift for him when he wasn't a child anymore.

For the time being, she squatted down at the edge of one of the many shelves and covered her eyes, making due on the lie by counting aloud. Faintly, she could hear Luka's footsteps getting further away, straining her ears to hear them over her own voice until she was certain he was far enough from her.

By then, she carefully trailed off her counting until there was nothing but silence, freeing her to stand up and start exploring for a gift. If Luka saw her before he found a hiding spot, she could always claim that she never said how long she would count for.

Finding a balance between eyeing the toys she saw and looking out for anything dangerously Luka-colored, she went down an aisle at a time. Occasionally, she would stop to pick something up, like a pair of two squishy ladybugs forming a ball together, or a slug that made a funny clicking sound when she wiggled it, but nothing was calling to her as a gift for him. She knew Luka was a sweetheart and would like anything offered to him, but that wasn't a reason to not try.

As she tried to imagine what a "perfect gift" for Luka would even be like, she caught sight of something pink and blue on one of the shelves. She hurried over and, while she was briefly disappointed that it was only the back of the packaging that was blue, the pink color screamed her which made it serve as a good reminder of who this potential gift to Luka came from.

It was a clam shell. Marinette ran her fingertip along the ridges and noted that there was a little clip or force of some kind keeping it shut. It opened with a little effort, but nothing was inside; according to the advertisement, it was made to hold something, though didn't specify what.

Luka was someone who could use something to hold things. Eyeing the inside of the clam, she saw that there were even little slits that he could perhaps use for guitar picks. That might not've been the intention of the maker had in mind when they designed such a thing, but they didn't specify beyond "something," and guitar picks would be multiple somethings! Genius!

Taking the clam off the shelf, she ran through the store as fast as her little legs would carry her. She almost tripped and went face-first into the floor, but the sheer importance of the moment kept her upright.

Understanding enough about stores to know that she had to go to the cashier, she took one last wary look for any sign of Luka before handing them the clam. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the few coins she had, which were gathered meticulously over many days on the beach. She still recalled waiting for everyone to leave so she could look for coins they may have dropped, wanting to be ready in case something like this ever happened.

Giving them up to the cashier, they confirmed the price of the clam and returned it to her, as well as a single coin. The packaging had been taken off at her request, so she could fully take in the sight of the little storage clam and the nice weight it had.

Thankful for the deep pockets in the jacket she had, she slipped it inside, doubly thankful that the poofy design allowed for the clam's bulk to not be that noticeable. Then, with all that checked and confirmed, she set off to look for Luka.

By her estimation, it hadn't been that long since their game had started and she'd kept her eyes out for him the whole time, so she felt good about him not being suspicious that she'd been up to anything. Grinning to herself, she daydreamed about his potential reaction while searching for him between shelves and behind the giant plushies.

Tauntingly, she raised a hand to the side of her mouth and called, "Luuuuka~" She looked left, then right. "I'm gonna find y—"

She stopped when a rustling noise caught her attention, her focus shifting to one of the circular clothing racks that had fancy festival wear. Two pieces of clothing were pushed aside, Luka slowly stepping out from the gap he made.

Marinette blinked. They made eye contact and he froze halfway out of his hiding spot, a few confused seconds passing by before they both realized what happened.

He was so used to coming to her when she called his name that he did so without thinking.

Luka bowed his head, ashamed of having ruined their game. "Sorry."

Giggling, Marinette made her way over to him and snatched up his hand. It made her happy, knowing that they could both act silly together. "It's okay! My hand was lonely anyway!"

It wasn't a lie even if she'd planned to return to him casually. Things just felt better when he was around and she hadn't wanted to separate in the first place.

—————

Even over the hustle and bustle of the crowd as the afternoon began to transition to evening, Marinette could still hear the grumbling of Luka's stomach. She stopped, eyeing the source of the sound, and Luka turned to look at her.

"What?"

"Ah... I'm hungry," she told him. "Can we eat?"

An actual lie that time, but she'd been down this road before to know that it was necessary. They'd gotten into loops enough times of noticing that the other was hungry, the other insisting not to worry about it, and back and forth until finally they both decided to eat together. In retrospect, Luka may have given the same lie to her in the past.

It just seemed like such a waste to miss out on potential playtime to eat, but at least now they could have food they hadn't tried before.

Luka agreed, so they set about finding something they wanted. There were plenty of people down the streets waving around food and shouting out what she presumed was the name of it, but the two of them couldn't really make sense of it. Food there was so different from what they were used to that they probably wouldn't recognize anything anyway.

They debated on whether they should risk their money on chance, but then they heard the familiar word "blueberry" and looked over. Luka was a forest dweller and often brought Marinette fruit that he picked, so they both knew what those were.

In the woman's hands, however, were tiny round things that Marinette didn't recognize. They were closer to baby blue than the dark purplish-blue she was used to on blueberries, which confused her brain entirely as they did smell like blueberries. At Luka's asking, the woman listed off a few rough ingredients and the general process of baking them, but it all sounded like random words mashed together barring "blueberries" and "eggs."

"Here." She put her handful of treats back in the container she had them in, pulling out one in each hand and offering it to them. "Cuties like you can have one for free as a taste test."

Marinette exchanged a glance with Luka. She wasn't sure what the criteria was that the lady was using, but she could agree that he was cute: calm, quiet, and always with something sweet to say whenever he did speak.

"Okay," Marinette began, only to not take the one offered to her and point at Luka instead, "but Luka has to give it to me."

He didn't ask why, accepting both treats and holding one up to her mouth. Catching the woman's confused stare on her, Marinette felt compelled to explain anyway.

"My maman and papa told me not to take sweets from strangers, but Luka's not a stranger."

With that, she opened her mouth and let Luka slip the treat in at the same time he fed himself. The taste of blueberry filled her mouth as she bit down, the treat so tiny that she could only bite a few times before it was largely crumbs. The outside had been crisp, but inside it was soft and a little chewy, her tongue getting the full force of the fruit she would still insist it didn't look like.

She put a hand to her lips, letting out a tiny, pleased noise at the flavor, and heard something similar from Luka. It was an easy choice from there to buy it, though she already imagined that the single coin she had wouldn't buy much.

Luka, on the other hand, still had coins of his own. While she'd found hers on the beach, he sometimes found some that forest visitors had dropped, or those snatched up by birds and placed in nests for their shine. He bought enough that the both of them would've struggled to hold them even if they used both of their hands, but the woman settled the two piles onto edible pink paper for them, neatly crimped and folded so as to contain them well.

Walking off with the treats, they found a quiet place to sit and got to eating. Marinette imagined that her parents might have complained about her eating so much of something sweet, but it had fruit in it and it was a "treat" day anyway. They deserved to spoil themselves instead of thinking about such things.

"Why do all kids like sweet stuff?" she wondered aloud. "Some adults do too."

Luka hummed, not able to answer at first when his mouth was full. He swallowed, then guessed, "Maybe they have a spell on 'em?"

She looked down, eyes narrowed in suspicion as she poked the top of the pile. Nothing happened, at least beyond the treats moving from the little push. "All sweets? Do they wanna be eaten that bad?"

He shrugged, still mulling it over, and she took the time to shove a palmful into her mouth.

"What if we have the spell?" he suggested. "So it's not the sweets, and sometimes the spell goes away when we grow up?"

"So we're cursed when we get born?" She nodded along, invested in the hot new theory he just dropped. "I bet your mom could cure us. She's good with magic and potions."

"Mm." He stopped eating to consider that, lightly prodding and moving around the treats he still had, then countered, "But it'd be sad not to like these anymore."

"Yeah," she solemnly agreed. That was the trick of such a curse, she supposed, because why would someone want to take away how good sweets tasted?

The conversation lulled off as they dedicated themselves to enjoying the treats, cursed or otherwise. Marinette even tore a corner of the paper to taste, noting the strawberry undertones, and got an idea. With just a few, precious blueberry bites left, she curled the paper around them and shoved the whole thing directly into her mouth, flooding it with the taste of both berries at once.

Luka was wide-eyed at the motion, but not in any negative way. Rather, he thought it was an amazing idea and went about imitating her, slightly clumsier with curling the paper but it didn't affect the taste.

With any hunger satiated, they dusted off their hands like they'd done a hard day's work, then returned to enjoying the festivities.

—————

Neither of them were used to walking for so long. Knowing that, it was inevitable that their legs would start to tire, but the two of them had left it as a problem for their future selves.

Except now, though thankfully late in their adventure, the future had arrived and they reluctantly accepted that they had to rest. They searched for a quiet place where few people would be and settled on a library, having not even realized how much it was to deal with the crowd of people outside until they were away from it all.

A single librarian stood behind the front desk, idly sorting things they couldn't quite see. On the corner of the desk was a container of candy, either bribing material or congratulatory rewards for kids to read more, but they ignored them to traverse the rest of the library.

The rows of bookshelves almost felt like a maze of knowledge, but they eventually made it to a comfy little spot in a corner. There was a table, chairs, and a few books that were either abandoned or recommended for those who may've come by. Curious, Marinette grabbed one of the books to look at, but scowled when the cover showed blond hair that looked all too similar to her bully's.

Definitely abandoned books.

Luka was tired enough that he didn't even bother pulling out one of the chairs to sit on, opting to plop down on the floor and lean against the wall. Sympathetic, Marinette left the book re-abandoned on the table and went over to kneel at his side.

"You should sleep if you're tired," she encouraged.

He yawned, though tried to hide it with his hands. "There's a lot we didn't do yet."

She tapped her chin in thought. "Well... we didn't sleep yet? I can read you a story too."

Before he could answer, she pushed herself up and walked away to a small rack of more child-friendly books than the ones on the table. Their thinness made it perfect for her hands to hold comfortably, and she returned to Luka with a smile.

Then, considering something, she put the book down on Luka's lap and retrieved the heavier book she'd hated from the table. Dropping it next to their little spot, she sat down next to him and picked the thinner book back up.

"This one's to read," she explained, then pointed to the one she'd dropped. "That's for keeping you safe if anyone tries to wake you up."

He giggled at the exaggerated motion she made of whacking someone with the book. "I thought books were for learning things."

It was playful, but Marinette huffed and replied anyway, "They'll learn not to wake you up."

And that was that. She leaned against the wall with him, their bodies bumping together comfortably as she opened the book to the first page. Her ability to read aloud wasn't perfect and she stumbled on a couple words she'd seen but never spoken before, yet Luka didn't complain.

Eventually, she felt him relax against her, looking over to see that his eyes were shut and his breathing had slowed. She debated with herself on continuing to read, but the book didn't seem as fun when they weren't looking at it together.

Her eyelids drooped, the letters blurring as the sleepiness started to take her too. She had promised to protect Luka while he napped, but she could already hear his voice in her head, telling her that she couldn't protect him if she didn't protect herself first.

Making a compromise with herself, she turned further towards him, settling the book on his lap and placing her hands atop it. His scent was familiar as she snuggled against him and, if she really focused on it, she could still smell the flowers they had picked and put on each other the other day.

The scent on her, unfortunately, had probably washed off by then, but that was fine. They still had the memories even if the scent didn't linger, and that thought lulled her fully into secure slumber.

—————

"Hey... hey there, come on," a gentle, deep voice said. "Wake up."

Marinette whined, glaring off at nothing as she slowly opened her eyes, then lifted her head up towards the source of the wake-up call. It was the librarian, who looked worriedly down at the both of them, just out of whacking distance.

"I wanted to let you two sleep, but it's getting late," he told her. "Aren't your parents worried about you?"

Honestly? Probably not. Her parents were nice but didn't have much of a hands-on approach - probably assumed she lost track of time somewhere - whereas Luka's mom was fully aware where they were and what they were doing. She looked outside to get an estimate of the time, the fairy lights hung just outside the window glowing as bright as ever.

Because it was as late as ever.

Marinette jolted, eyes wide open as she turned to Luka. She didn't even have time to wonder if she'd have to whack herself for trying to wake him, too panicked as she grabbed his shoulder and gave him a shake.

"Luka! Luka, Luka!"

He groaned as he stirred from her efforts. His body was sluggish and might've fallen over had she not had a firm grip on him. "M-Marinette...?"

"It's late!" she cried out. "Late late!"

He blinked slowly at her, because normally it being "late late" wouldn't be a concern for either of them. However, his brain finally caught up and he became wide awake in an instant, pushing himself to his feet as the book fell from his lap to the floor. "We have to go!"

"Yeah!" She hurriedly gathered the two books to set them on the table, barely giving the librarian a "thank you" before her hand grabbed Luka's and they were off. The little corner they'd taken minutes to find after coming in through the front door took only seconds to backtrack from, the two of them working as a tiny unit to force the door open as fast as possible with their free hands.

Ignoring any glances they might've gotten from adults, they ran around and past anyone they could. Occasionally, they might've bumped something or someone, taking up more space from being side-by-side as they were, but their grip on each other was solid and they refused to let go of each other even for convenience.

Before long, they headed back into the forest, Marinette allowing Luka to lead since he was the one who knew the way. Swerving around trees and ducking under branches, it was clear that he was trying to take the quickest route possible.

It was hard to gauge the time anymore, the moon completely out of sight due to the vast foliage above them. Still, Marinette could catch them smell of the ocean, so she felt they could still make it before—

"Ah—!"

She fell forward, Luka stumbling along with her as they both hit the ground. She raised her head to apologize, certain that her legs had finally given out, but then she looked behind her.

In place of her legs was her mermaid tail, bright pink and shimmering like it'd never left. The only evidence that she'd gone to a human village at all was the bracelet she'd put on, which nicely fit right above the fins at the end. She turned her head back to Luka and, sure enough, his naga tail had come back as well.

There was only one conclusion to draw: that the potions his mother had given them had worn off. She groaned, mentally cursing her luck that they'd turned back just before they got to the ocean. To Luka, it was hardly a problem so long as they were out of the village where they could no longer be seen, but not so much with Marinette.

She wiggled her tail and tried to push herself up, but to no avail. She couldn't move on land like he did, only awkwardly crawl or drag herself.

"Marinette," Luka called, fretting. He looked her over worriedly for injuries and reached for her arm when he found none. "Here, hold onto me."

She pouted as he helped her up and guided her hand to his shoulder. "I'm gonna be heavy."

"Nu-uh," he huffed, like it was a personal offense to him if he couldn't lift her.

Slowly, she slipped both of her arms around his neck while he grabbed her waist, straightening up and reorienting the both of them. He kept one hand at her back, the other supporting her tail so they could continue on their way.

She still protested, but he didn't complain, grunt, or show any signs that he was bothered on their way back to the beach. The trees slowly made way for vast skies and pink sand, but she clung a little tighter to him even as she stared out at the familiar sights that should've been home.

They both readied themselves, Luka's arms tensing while she prepared herself to leap. With one precise, strong toss, he threw her upwards and she flung in an arc to land safely back in the water. The crisp, clear world aboveground turned blurry when she looked up, the water distorting it into shapes she knew weren't real.

Popping her head back up above the surface, she looked out at Luka, who had made himself comfortable on the beach. He was leaning back, his hands almost lost in the sand and supporting him as he tried to catch his breath.

"Sorry," she murmured.

He raised a brow at her, puzzled, then offered her a smile. "I had fun."

He'd changed the subject, not even acknowledging the apology like he truly didn't need it. Marinette mirrored the smile back at him, agreeing, "Me too. Maybe we can go again?"

The immediate nod was reassuring. Though it ended rather stressfully, that didn't take away from the experience overall.

She also noticed then that their clothes from the waist up had stayed on: one more happy reminder of their secret adventure. She grinned wider, gripping her jacket and pulling it tight against herself, but something ridged, large, and round nudged at her side as she did.

Gasping, her eyes lit up in recognition. She twisted, awkwardly fighting the wet fabric and the drag of the water to reach into the pocket. "Oh, um, Luka, I got..."

Sand shifted nearby as Luka came closer to her, the tide just barely missing him. Marinette retrieved the clam and swam closer, struggling a bit with the shore but managing to find a comfortable place where she could "sit."

"Here! It's for you!" she exclaimed, holding the clam out to him. It was wet, but a quality enough product that it wasn't damaged or worn from it. "I bought it at the store we went to."

He gaped at her, leaning forward to take a closer look. Nearly losing his balance, he thrust his hands into the wet sand and hovered over the gift while she presented it to him. "Really? For me?"

"For you!" she echoed. Popping the clam open, she pointed at the slits on the inside and explained, "You can hold things inside, like your guitar picks! Neat, right?"

Though, when she looked at it again, she wondered if it was really enough for her best friend, who'd been upgraded just that day to best best friend. A storage container was nice, but was giving someone an empty one equivalent to giving them a gift box with nothing inside? Surely there was something she could put in it.

An idea struck a moment later, Marinette pulling back and turning the inside of the clam towards her. Raising it to her lips, she kissed the inner part of the top for good luck before slamming the clam shut with a satisfying click, wanting to make sure the luck didn't have a chance to escape.

That way, she figured, the bottom could store his guitar picks and the top could store the good luck. It was taking full advantage of all the space inside.

Holding it carefully with both hands, she extended her arms towards him with a hopeful smile. "Do you like it?"

He was speechless, having not expected to get any gift that day beyond his time with her. His lips pressed together in a pout, wobbly with emotion as he raised a hand to take the gift from her.

However, he stopped short, noticing the wet sand still caking his hand. Unwilling to touch her gift with dirty hands, he reached into the water to flap his hands about inside to try and clean them. While that did most of the job, he remained dissatisfied and grabbed at his jacket, pulling it off to wipe his hands on it.

Throwing the jacket-turned-towel aside, he finally took the clam from her and cradled it to his chest. Marinette's heart ached pleasantly, seeing that it was already something precious to him.

"Thanks. I love it," he whispered.

They stayed there for just a minute longer in each other's company, no longer fearing any time limit urging them into action. Their friendship was powerful despite only a year of knowing each other, of having to meet in secret at the shore when no one else was around, of Luka's mother "stealing" Marinette away to show her their home when viable, and of risky adventures created through human disguises.

There would inevitably be a time in the future where they wouldn't be able to do it anymore. They would get older, busier, and it would be harder to keep meeting on the shore. Even further in the future, one of them may even have to make a choice to ensure they never part again.

But in the blissful innocence of childhood, they could simply enjoy their time together.

[ragnarokhound]

kon and jason form a bond over the fact that both of them have a crush on tim and tim is oblivious about it. they still hate each other, obviously, but it's nice to get drunk with someone who understands, you know? except after nearly half a year of occasionally getting drunk and bitching about tim, they hook up. and then they keep on hooking up. but really they both want tim! which is about when tim walks in on them.

anon. anon i am taking you by the shoulders. this is beautiful to me. do you get how much I love the 'i love him not you, but he's not here and besides, you're the only other bitch around who i'd trust him with /derogatory' and how good that is for jaykon(tim)??? dO YOU??? (the mutual mutual pining. the pact between two people who both know who they're actually in love with. the potential for a True love triangle to form. slow burn in one direction, enemies to friends to lovers in another. i'm feral over this)

The first time it happened, it was completely by accident.

Neither of them could really be held accountable, so neither of them could really blame each other. No matter how much Jason would like to blame the superclone for literally everything that transpired, always and forever, it can’t be helped. There’s no one at fault but good old Jack Daniels. Jason hadn’t even known supers could get drunk, but maybe that’s Kon’s human half at work. Or maybe he laces it with kryptonite dust or neurotoxin or whatever. Jason doesn’t really give a fuck how Kon gets his kicks. He just knows that the two of them are the only motherfuckers who get it— and while that doesn’t make them friends by any means, it definitely makes them de facto drinking buddies. They are united by one thing, and one thing only: a horrific, embarrassing, deeply acute, and likely terminal attraction to one Timothy Jackson Drake. Yeah. They know. One unlikely team up on a mission gone wrong was all it took for Jason and Kon to reach an understanding.

From Tim’s disappointed scowling every time they bickered to the easy way he trusted both of them to manhandle him in the name of the greater good, soon enough, Jason had gone from glaring daggers in the superclone’s direction to trading pained, commiserating looks every time Tim twisted himself into a pretzel right in front of them. Which he did surprisingly often. Jason would call it suspiciously often if Tim weren’t the most oblivious, rizzless dumbass on the planet. He only has game when he isn’t trying. Unfortunately for both Jason and Kon, he definitely is not trying. By the end of that week, Kon had gone from threatening to throw Jason into space to wordlessly offering sad fist bumps every time Tim missed yet another thinly veiled come on. From either of them. (Tim thought they were finally bonding over bad jokes and kept laughing and booing in their faces.) Clown to clown communication at its finest. After the week was up and they were all set to go their separate ways, Jason shot his shot one last time, inviting Tim (and Kon by proxy) out for drinks. Tim politely declined, citing all the paperwork he’d need to fill out for the Titans that Jason had been fully intending to sidestep anyway— like fuck he’s ever touching another incident report in his life— but to Jason’s surprise, Kon took him up on it. The two of them had hit the bar, and by the third round of drinks they were both swapping Tim-stories and finally clearing the air about the finer details of that ass. The rest is unlikely history. Don’t get Jason wrong, they still hate each other’s guts. It changes from bitch-sesh to bitch-sesh, but by the end of the night Kon will have threatened something like snapping Jason’s fingers or lasering his face off, and Jason will have responded with something like an eye roll and asking him if he’d like a hunk of kryptonite to choke on. Only, the first time it happened, too many glasses of whiskey and one meandering walk from the bar to Jason’s closest safehouse later, Kon’s eyes had shuttered, dark and blue and nothing like the eyes either of them actually wanted, and said, “No, but I think I’d like to choke you on my dick. You game?” And, well. What was Jason supposed to do, but grin knife-sharp and mean and say— “I’d love to see you try.”

[wcnderlnds]

looks like a tragedy now | draco malfoy

Summary: You and Draco had been together for over a year when an argument sent things into a downward spiral. Neither of you will talk to each other and when you do it only seems to make things worse. Warnings: N/A Word Count: 1.3k Authors Note: this is another repost from my old account. wrote in 2020 and the first ever draco fic i wrote so it’s not amazing but it holds a special place in my heart <3

“You could always just go over and talk to him,” Hermione suggested as she followed your line of sight which of course led her gaze to land on the one and only Draco Malfoy. At her words, you sighed heavily and shook your head. It took you another few seconds before you finally pulled your eyes away from him to look down at your plate of food. Not a single bite had been taken, too nauseous to even think about eating.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, Hermione. I’m not sure I want to talk to him either,” you shrugged your shoulders, using your fork to push the uneaten food around on your plate.

“What even happened?” Harry had now decided to chime in. Ron was too busy stuffing his face with food to be too bothered to ask questions but he was still listening.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to the common room,” you said rather abruptly as you got to your feet.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” Harry noticed.

“Not hungry.”

And, with that you headed out of the Great Hall and towards the comfort of the Gryffindor common room. You really appreciated the concern of your friends but right now you didn’t want to even talk about what had gone on between you and Draco. It was a sensitive topic — one that you didn’t think you could talk about yet without bursting into tears. So, for now, you were going to sit in front of the fire, read a book and attempt to get your thoughts away from a certain Slytherin.

You and Draco had been together for over a year now. It had all started in fourth year when you’d been paired together in Charms for an assignment. At first, you didn’t talk much but then one day conversation started flowing when you questioned him about Quidditch. Conversations then turned into two friends hanging out outside of Charms then that turned into both parties seemingly getting a crush on each other then one day Draco had had enough of dancing around and asked you out at the start of fifth year. The rest was history. Since then you’d been together, it had been perfect until Draco started acting secretive and you let jealousy take over on your end. This had led to a big, big argument. Now, two days later you weren’t talking to each other, your relationship was up in the air and you had no idea what to do. Sure, you could easily have marched over to him and demanded to talk but some pretty hurtful things had been said and the last thing you wanted was to have another shouting match. It was safer to stay away from each other right now as much as it killed you. Little did you know it was killing him just as much.

“Cheer up, (Y/N). You better off without ferret face anyway,” Ron patted you on the shoulder. It had been a week now since you and Draco had spoken. You’d made no effort to talk to him and he’d made no effort to talk to you. In fact, you’d been actively trying to avoid each other.

“Yeah,” was all you said. You knew your friends didn’t like Draco. He wasn’t much a fan of them anyway so you didn’t really expect them to understand why you were miserable. You had to give them credit, though, they really were trying to make you feel better but it wasn’t helping. As the days passed by you felt more and more miserable. You missed him. You missed him so damn much. Maybe if the two of you weren’t so stubborn you’d have fixed this already.

You threw your bag down onto the ground, sliding into your seat at your usual table in Charms. This had been the class you’d been dreading all week. This was the class that you sat next to Draco in. You rested your head on your hand playing around with the sleeve of your sweater with the other. Suddenly, you heard a chair scraping across the floor and books being thrown on the table. He was here. He was next to you. You knew by the smell of his cologne. The smell you loved so much. Usually, he’d greet you with a warm ‘hello darling’ and not hearing those all too familiar words broke your heart. All you wanted to do was throw your arms around him and say sorry but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You were far too stubborn to give in. Besides, you deserved an apology too. You hadn’t bothered looking at him yet, solely focused on the thread of your sweater.

“Can you move your bag? It’s in my way,” Draco drawled without even looking at you. It seemed he was doing his best to avoid looking in your direction.

“Okay.” You picked the bag up, putting it at your other side and bravely took a look at him. “Draco...”

“Class is about to start,” he cut you off sharply. As he did, he took a quick glance at you. Eyes meeting eyes for the first time in a week. He looked sad. He looked as sad as you felt. But, this was Draco Malfoy and there was no way he’d ever show his emotions properly so he looked forward, shaking his head as if you’d annoyed him. In reality, he was putting on a show. He didn’t want you to know how much he was hurting.

Class finished and you couldn’t have been more thankful. It had been torture having to be so close to Draco and not talking to him. You both could have easily said something to each other but neither of you wanted to. Well, you did but neither of you wanted to be the first to start the conversation. As people rushed out of class, you found yourself running up to Draco, grabbing his wrist to stop him in his tracks. Swiftly, he turned around to look at you, yanking his arm away from your touch.

“What? I have places to be,” he said cooly. “Or do you just want to accuse me of stupid things again? Did I look at someone? Am I having an affair? I mean, I did look at Flitwick a few times. I suppose that means I’m in love with him, right?”

“Shut up. Just shut up,” you burst out, tears brimming your eyes. “You have no right to speak to me like that. If you weren’t so secretive and hid things from me then I wouldn’t have to be paranoid all the time. You blew off plans with me every single time we planned something, Draco. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe trust me and have a little faith in me. How about that, huh? But, no. Couldn’t do that, could you?” Draco sneered. You could tell he was getting annoyed all over again and so were you. Both of you knew how to get on each other's nerves. As much as you missed each other, this was something that couldn’t be solved that easily.

“It’s so annoying how nothing is ever your fault. It’s always mine. I’m tired. I wanted to apologise but you’re being a typical Slytherin and giving me that attitude. I thought you’d changed. Thought maybe you could have an adult conversation with me but I was wrong.” Using the sleeve you’d been playing with earlier, you wiped at your eyes to make sure you weren’t crying yet. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you cry.

“Whatever. Are you done?”

“Are you done, Draco?”

That took him back a little bit. He knew exactly what you meant but couldn’t bring himself to give a straight answer. “Maybe.”

That was the last thing he said before he walked away from you leaving you with a whole new sense of heartbreak. Was this the beginning of the end?