#I think it could have been thicker and probably is in this reality where he looks like this

[elizabethrobertajones]

I just think once everyone knew who he was and had seen Vrtra, why not have the alchemists represent that better???

[tokkias]

mama, don't you worry about me ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: They say the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, and Lucy knows that's true enough. Though they ended on uncertain terms, Lucy doesn't want to go on without her old family meeting her new family. ao3

Nalu Week 2023 Day 2: Family @allaboutnalu @thenaluarchive

It had been about three and a half years since Lucy had last made the trip out to Acalypha. It wasn’t for lack of wanting to, but the longer she put it off, the guiltier she felt, as though she would be judged when she finally did show up. She knew it was an unreasonable thought considering those she was there to visit had both passed away long ago, but that never stopped the guilt from growing.

There was no rhyme nor reason to the day she finally decided to make the trip out; it was a spontaneous decision made without much forethought, though perhaps the offer of company had done something to sway her just a little. The sound of footsteps next to hers brought a little comfort, staggered as they were, as Natsu swayed to keep his balance, still battling the aftereffects of the train ride over.

She had offered to take the walk—it was only a day out of Magnolia, after all—but for the first time in all the time she had known him, he had insisted he would be okay. Based on the way he still retched with every other step, he was decidedly not okay, but the sentiment was appreciated.

Had Natsu not offered to come along, she may not have had the courage to finally make the trip out here. He had probably also surmised that had they chosen to travel by foot, she may have been tempted to bail, a feeling she hadn’t been able to shake until the train carriage began to move and she was faced with the bigger threat of Natsu potentially vomiting on her shoes. It had provided an unpleasant but nonetheless welcome distraction from the fact that she was about to visit her parents place of rest for the first time in years.

She slowed her pace slightly when she noticed Natsu staggering behind her, until she eventually came to a stop and he grabbed her arm to catch his balance. Part of her hoped that his motion sickness would get better with age, but it seemed as though the opposite was occuring.

"You okay?" She asked as she felt his forehead rest against her shoulder and her hand snaked up to his scalp, where she lightly dragged her nails through his hair to try and sooth him.

He meekly nodded, taking in a few slow and deep breaths to try and recuperate. When he finally looked up at her, he still looked a little pale, but nowhere near as sickly as he had when they had first gotten off the platform.

"I’m good," he finally managed to say, forcing a smile out, and Lucy felt her heart melt a little in her chest.

She had never asked him to come and support her, but she never had to. Natsu was going to be her rock, no matter what the situation. He knew her and her feelings better than she did, and she didn’t have to express the fact that she was struggling for him to step up and be the strong one for today.

She wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to express her gratitude for moments like these, but she supposed the least she could do right now was let him lean on her as they walked.

"Are you okay?" He asked in return.

"I think so."

That was the most honest answer she could give. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt right then. It was as though her brain was cursed to be stuck in an emotional limbo until they arrived at the cemetery.

She wished she was okay. She wished that she was fine—good, even—but as of late, she had been the victim of a heartache she thought had been long gone.

Part of her wished that the grieving process was linear, that one day she would feel better and she would be done grieving, but reality was never that simple. She had been grieving the loss of her mother for the majority of her life. She had been grieving the loss of her father since before he had even passed. It should be easier by now.

Most days it was, but it had gotten harder as of late.

Lucy had a new family, one whom she loved unconditionally, and they in turn loved her just as much, but the hole left in her heart by the loss of her parents was one that would never be filled completely. Sometimes it was little more than a pinprick, tiny and inconspicuous, but other times it would gape and bleed like a wound torn right open.

She had been feeling that last one a lot lately.

That was part of the reason she decided she needed to come out here—to stitch that wound closed again and try to heal. For so long, she had been hesitant because she feared that standing before those headstones would only serve as a physical reminder of her loss, that it would undo all the hard work she had put into moving on and rip her heart open altogether.

Suddenly, she felt Natsu take her hand in his own and give it a reassuring squeeze, and she realised that she wouldn’t have to worry about that any longer.

The walk to the cemetery was foreign to her, having only made it two, maybe three, times in her life, but despite the unfamiliarity, it was like it was hardwired into her brain. She didn’t have to think about it for her legs to take her to exactly where they needed to be, as though something in her subconscious was guiding her back to her family.

It certainly looked like neither of them had been tended to in a fair while, which made the guilt prick up in her stomach again. Before that guilt could manifest itself, it was quickly quashed by the thud of Natsu dropping his travel pack on the grass behind her.

Lucy turned to face him, and he pulled out a few of the items she had packed in preparation for their trip. A cloth, a spray bottle, and a scrubbing brush. She wasn’t entirely sure where to start. She had no experience cleaning gravestones and hadn’t had the time to do any research when she decided she was going to make the trip. All she had to go off of was some common sense and a hope.

The first thing she did was pull out the weeds that had begun to grow through the cracks in the stone and discard them to the side. Immediately, the headstones looked more tended to, especially next to others in the cemetery that had begun to grow moss on the stone from years of neglect, their words barely legible with dirt collecting from age. She realised that it was likely no one was around to clean those headstones anymore, which only made her all the more determined to keep her parents' graves looking well while she still could.

When Jude had first passed and Lucy had first visited their graves, she almost expected Layla’s to be in a state of disrepair from years of neglect since it had been moved off of the estate, but even after seven years, it looked almost brand new. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised by her father’s dedication to its upkeep. He wasn’t a heartless man; he was simply someone who had become lost in their grief. She had no interest in continuing her father’s legacy, though she supposed this was one thing she could carry on for him.

A thin layer of dirt and grime had begun to form on the surface of both headstones. It certainly wasn’t as bad as some of the ones surrounding them, but she quickly got to work cleaning it off before she could let them get that far gone.

She wasn’t used to cleaning on her hands and knees, didn’t take much pride in doing such thorough cleaning of her own home, and wasn't particularly enjoying the ache in her back as she leant over, but for her parents, she supposed she could swing it once in a while.

She bit down on her lip in a moment of concentration as she scrubbed the stone, the soap and water foaming up before she wiped it away with her cloth to reveal a clean surface. It certainly didn’t look brand new, but taking a step back and looking at her work, she was happy with what she had achieved, and she was certain

By the time she was done cleaning, she looked back over at Natsu, who had finished setting up the picnic blanket and was waiting for her to join him. It would have been a shame to come all the way out here and not at least make an effort to enjoy themselves. The day had provided them with the perfect weather for it, with blue, cloudless skies and a gentle breeze to complement the sun’s warm rays.

On the blanket, Natsu had laid out their lunch: some sandwiches that Lucy had put together that morning specifically for the trip, cut diagonally (because Natsu would not physically allow her to cut them any other way), a selection of pastries from a local bakery they had passed on their way here, and a flask of homemade lemonade, complete with two little plastic cups for them to drink from.

He was beaming at her when she joined him on the blanket next to him, and the sight of it brought her comfort that she was certain she would never be able to describe.

The day she had left the estate, having resolved to never return, she had told herself she never wanted to see her father’s face again. The day that she met Natsu, joined Fairy Tail, met her real family, she was certain she would never come back to him. After the events of the Phantom Lord attack, she had hoped her new family would never ever come to meet her old family.

Back in those days, she would have never imagined she’d be sitting here, willingly bringing her two families together.

Well, as together as they could be, given the circumstances.

In a way, this was Natsu’s first time meeting his in-laws, something that she might have dreaded happening when her father was still alive. She knew Natsu was the type of person her father would have loathed her befriending as a child. The man she knew growing up would quite possibly have exploded if he knew that Natsu was the person she intended on spending the rest of her life with.

She never got to know the man that he had become in those seven years between the downfall of the Heartfilia Konzern and his death, but she hoped that it was one that could have grown to love (or at least tolerate) his future son-in-law.

It was quiet as they ate—the peaceful kind of quiet. Very rarely did any type of quiet exist between them, but it remained comfortable even still. It was clear that Natsu didn’t want to have to be the one to initiate conversation lest Lucy not want to talk, and to his credit, he was sort of right. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t want to talk, but rather that she didn’t exactly know what to say in the moment.

So instead, they sat in silence, both completely content to enjoy each other’s company even in the quiet.

That quiet was broken, however, the moment Lucy noticed her partner eyeing up the strawberry danish she had claimed as her own before he tried to slip it away from her. He was, of course, promptly met with a whack on the hand the moment he tried to reach for it, and he responded in turn by looking up at her with an exaggerated pout and puppy-dog eyes.

"Come on, please?" He pleaded. "Just one bite?"

"No."

His sympathy for the situation had clearly worn off as he continued to try and plead for her sweet treat, trying his best to wear her down just for one little bite.

"Fine," she conceded with a sigh. "Just one small bite."

She held out the dessert to him, and he opened his mouth wide as if expecting her to offer it to him whole. She was certain he would take it down in one bite if she let him, but she was certainly not planning on it. Instead, she let him bite off the very tip, and he pouted as he chewed, clearly unsatisfied with the small portion, but Lucy remained unsympathetic to his cause as she finished the rest of it herself.

Truly, she thought this trip would be awkward with him by her side, that she would be so downtrodden by her grief that Natsu couldn’t do anything but try to comfort her, but as it seemed, things hadn’t played out that way. Sure, her heart still ached from the reminder of her loss, but not nearly as much as she had anticipated. She expected she would cry, wail, and sob at their graves as if it were a recent loss, and that Natsu would have to hold her as she wept into his chest, inconsolable. Instead, she found herself resting her head in his lap as he looked down at her, fingers tangling through her hair as he did so, and feeling nothing but love and comfort.

She hadn’t quite mustered the courage to speak to their headstones and have a one-sided conversation with her parents like she usually did to make sure they knew what had been going on in her life, but she supposed she didn’t need to tell them when what was going on in her life was right there with her the whole time.

Letting her eyes flutter closed, she breathed in the fresh spring air and allowed herself to bask in the sunlight, so warm and bright, as though her parents themselves were beaming all their love down upon them.

Really, there was never a day that passed where she didn’t wish that her parents could have met Natsu. Sometimes she liked to think about what it would have been like if she still had that family and had been given the choice to bring them together. She imagined them together at the dining room table—a normal one, small and homely, like a house she only vaguely remembered from the days before the Heartfilia Estate.

"I think mama would have loved you," Lucy breathed, opening her eyes to look back up at her beloved, still looking down at her adoringly. "She would have teased me about you and said you were the apple of my eye," she added, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

"If she raised someone as cool as you, I think I woulda liked her too," he grinned.

As she closed her eyes again, she went back to her little fantasy scene and sat at her dining table, she and Natsu on one side and her parents on the other. She could so vividly imagine her mother laughing along as she and Natsu played a game of footsies under the table that quickly got out of hand once he kicked her ankle. Her father, stoic as he was, would keep a straight face but couldn’t hide the hint of a smile, knowing that his only daughter had found her one.

"I think papa would have thought I was dating you just to spite him," she said, an amused smile gracing her face.

Perhaps someone else might have seen that as an insult, but based on the way Natsu cackled in response, she could only think that he took it as a compliment of the highest regard.

"I’d like to think he could have grown to like you too."

Before she had a chance to stop it, Lucy felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes, and all of a sudden, they began to fall freely, the floodgates too far open to go back now.

"I’m sorry," she apologised, and she brought her hand up to wipe away the tears that had begun to stream down her cheeks. "I thought I had cried out all of my tears over this," Lucy confessed. "But I don’t think these are sad tears; I think they’re happy tears because now I’ve got the best family I could ever ask for."

She looked up at Natsu through eyes glistening with tears, and he smiled down at her with such fondness that she thought her heart might just burst in her chest. She raised her hand up to his cheek, and he leant into her touch. A light, breathy laugh escaped her at the action, adoring just how cute her Natsu could be.

She didn’t like to think about where she would be without him, but lucky for her, she never had to. Natsu had given her the life and family that she had always dreamed of, who supported her and loved her truly and unconditionally, but none more than him.

Of course she missed her blood family and mourned what could have been had her mother not been in such frail health, but she couldn’t imagine a life without Fairy Tail—without Natsu.

She wasn’t sure if she believed in fate or destiny, but she did believe in Natsu, believed in the idea that their stories were always interwoven, that they were meant to be here, together.

The tears kept coming, but Natsu dragged his thumb across her cheek, wiping them away as they came. He was looking at her with all the adoration in the world, and her heart didn’t know how to cope, so instead she continued to let the tears flow, so happy and content to be with him. He was everything she could have ever asked for and more.

Together, they stayed like that until the sun had begun to dip over the horizon, providing them with a creamsicle sky as their backdrop. Throughout the afternoon, Lucy shared stories of her parents from when she was growing up—memories of laying beneath the stars with her mother before her health began to fail, of outings with her father before he lost himself in his work.

She yearned for moments like that again, but relaying them to her partner as he listened along to her tales was cathartic. She might not be able to live out those memories again, but what she could do was make new ones with Natsu and the rest of their family by their side.

Her back ached slightly as she finally sat back up, Natsu whined a little as she left his lap to stretch her arms out and gather up their things. They hadn’t planned on staying out here this late, but as soon as Lucy laid down, she didn’t feel herself ever wanting to leave, and Natsu had not voiced any complaints. Unfortunately, the threat of nightfall meant that they had to take their leave sooner or later, and Lucy decided that they should do so before nightfall. After shuffling off of the blanket, Natsu helped her fold it up and place it in his pack before throwing it over his shoulder.

He grabbed her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers as he smiled at her. She felt herself falling in love all over again with the gentle squeeze of his hand, and in that moment, she really did feel befitting of the name Lucky Lucy.

"We should hurry before we miss the last train back to Magnolia," she mused as they walked the path back into the main town.

His face immediately grew pale at the reminder of the train ride home. He swallowed his complaints thickly in an attempt to be sensitive to her needs in her trying times, but instead, Lucy just laughed. She had no intention of making him take ride home. Staying in Acalypha another night didn’t sound too bad anymore, and it was really the least she could do after all he had done for her.

There was no rush, no hurry; they had all the time in the world. A day's walk back to Magnolia was nothing compared to all of their lives ahead of them.

"I’m kidding," she clarified with a cheeky smile, feeling as though she had sufficiently got him back for at least some of the pranks that he had pulled on her in days gone by.

Natsu threw his head back and sighed in evident relief at not having to sacrifice his comfort for hers, no matter how willing he was to do so.

"Have I ever mentioned you’re the best ever and that I love you?" He said, as though he were making up for all the pleading he had been holding back and using it to thank her instead.

She laughed at his overdramatic reaction, feeling his words unnecessary but appreciating them nonetheless.

"I think so," she smiled back.

She squeezed his hand, running her thumb lightly over the back of it, revelling in the feeling of his skin on hers.

"And I love you too."

[parvulous-writings]

Dear Friend // Vander x Piltover!Reader

Summary: There is a silent friendship between you and an Undercity dweller.

Warnings: Brief mentions of violence and injury (not explicit)

Words: 2.7K

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my gif

The Bridge of Progress may have been built to unite two people's, but most saw it as something that partially furthered division between the two cities. On both sides, the people's knew it was safer not to cross, to stay far from the bridge, lest the guards on the bridge are particularly crabby. Which they almost always were - no one wanted to be stationed there for any length of time. The complaints were always the same; the air was thicker with smog the closer you got to the bridge, there was always this smell of... Mustiness, that came along with it. No one enjoyed it. At least, that was Topside's view of the Bridge. Something to keep away from, to avoid, to not think about it, if it could be helped. For the dwellers of Zaun, however, it was something quite different. It was constant, looming reminder of what they were to Piltover. Nothing more than the things down below - not even people to most of them. Most Zaunites either were entirely indifferent to Piltover and it's so called progress, or held a deep-rooted disdain for each and every person Topside. You, however, weren't like your fellow city-livers. You didn't hate those who lived below you - you didn't see them as less-than for being born into something far beyond their control. Though, that could be in part because of a strange connection you had formed with one of the Zaunites. You knew nothing about him; not his name, his life, none of it. You didn't even know his eye colour - neither of you had dared to venture closer to one another, to close the gap over the bridge, for whatever reason. Whether it was the fear of repercussions from the watching enforcers, or fear of one another you had never really managed to put your finger on. You just knew that it had become an almost ritual for the two of you. Thankfully, the enforcers had never asked what you were doing, visiting the bridge almost every day, at the same time. They didn't care, so long as you left them alone, and didn't cause a fuss.

Today, the fog towards the opposite end of the bridge didn't seem to be as thick. It was still there, of course - it always was - but you could see through most of it, down part of the practically defunct cobble road, but your vision was soon rendered void as the road disappeared into the darkness of the city below. You sat down in your usual spot, about a quarter of the way along the bridge, waiting for your 'friend' to make an appearance. He always turned up after you, but he did turn up at the same time every day. Maybe it was because he knew you'd already be there, waiting for him. There had only been a handful of times where he hadn't shown up. And those days you'd spent as long as the enforcers would let you, sitting in your spot on the bridge, waiting, hoping that your friend was alright. Of course, so far he'd always turn up in a day or two - you came to realise he was probably sick. You'd never really thought how bad conditions down there must have been, and how often illness must've made it's rounds in the populous - it simply wasn't a thing in Piltover, it was something you had always really taken for granted. Everyone did, no one imagined a life without the healthcare that the citizens of Piltover were given. You supposed, for your friend, and any family he may have, that was their reality. No help, besides whatever home remedies they could scrounge together. You pitied them, but you didn't think there was much that you could do.

Whilst deep in your thoughts, you caught a shadow lumbering up the road in the distance. The broad shoulders - even though tiny from how far they were from you - were familiar enough. You sat up a bit straighter, trying to see if he was okay, without exchanging a single word with him. He looked more run down than usual - and even with the space between you, you could see the dirt on his face, the tears in his clothes. His shirt was torn in several places, exposing his skin and a few wounds here and there. His nose was battered and bloodied, and one eye seemed to have swollen shut. You felt your jaw practically drop at the sight. You had seen him recovering from illness before, you had seen him with some minor injuries, but this... This was something else to you. You had no idea what to make of it - was he the one to instigate whatever brawl he had been in? Was he jumping to someone's aid, someone's protection? You had no idea. For all the time you had spent with him, you had never said anything to him; never learnt his name, or who he was beyond his appearance. He could have been anyone - from Zaun's most vicious criminal, to their sweetest habitant. In the state that he was, though, vicious man or not, you were surprised that he had still come. You glanced over your shoulder towards the enforcers standing at your side of the bridge, to check if they were keeping a close eye on you. Of course they weren't - they hardly did, you caused no trouble, so why have cause to believe you would now?

Biting the bullet, you pushed yourself to your feet. Warily, you made your way further down the bridge than you ever had done before, taking yourself closer and closer to your friend, and by proxy, Zaun. At first, your friend didn't notice you. He was preoccupied, trying to rub his hands clean of the grime and blood that caked his knuckles. A fighter, clearly a rough one. You drew close, and crouched down beside him. "How badly are you hurt?" You ask him, your voice as gentle as you could make it, but it still made him jump a mile. So much crossed his face in that moment - fear, surprise, relief, scepticism. He had no idea what to say to you. Why were you this close to him? Why were you talking to him? You give him a moment, to collect his thoughts and his composure, but he still doesn't say anything. He just stares at you, as if you had asked him something unthinkable. "Are you okay?" You ask him, hoping that maybe this time he'd respond to you. "What happened?" He continues to stare for a while longer, before clearing his throat quietly. "Fight..." Was all he responded with, as if that was the most difficult thing to figure out about his current situation. "I see that..." You answer slowly. "But... What happened? How badly are you hurt?" You asked again, now that he seemed to be responding. He looked at you for a moment, seeming to be... Analysing something. Perhaps if you would understand, as a Topsider. "Someone was bein' less then courteous to a mate of mine... Wanted to stick up for him..." He told you - and for some, odd reason, this struck you. You'd never considered that fissure folk would fight for more than just trivial things and necessities. The man must've seen the look on your face, as he scowled a little bit. "What? Think we don't look after each other down there?" He asked, gesturing with his head towards the way he had come. "Well-" You started, though you weren't even sure what you were going to respond with. "Well we do. We're not savages, we're people." He told you, clearly this was something he had more of an opinion on than yourself. You supposed, as you crouched there beside him, that the bridge, and the separation of the cities was something far more prominent in the lives of the fissure folk, than it was in yours.

You snapped out of your thought-filled daze, patting yourself down, your gaze flitting this way and that, as you look for something, anything, that could help him. In a flash of what you thought to be genius, you tried to rip off part of your shirt to wrap his hand; it was something that you had read in adventure novels that seemed to work every time. When you attempted it, however, nothing happened, you couldn't even make a small tear in the fabric. The man just watched, his gaze moving between your hands, and your face. The corner of his lip twitched upwards slightly, clearly he was trying not to laugh at you. You sigh quietly, "Listen, I've not-" "Done this before, yeah, I can tell..." He replied, "I don't need bandages, these'll heal by 'emselves..." He told you, "'S not the first time this has happened, I'll live." "But you're bleeding-" "So? We all bleed. It's only a little, anyway. I'll be fine." He reiterated, shaking his head slowly. "I've had worse." Worse? Worse?? The man looked like he had crawled through hell and back just to sit on the bridge with you, and yet here he was saying he'd had worse? Your jaw when slack, and he huffed in laughter, "Don't s'pose you see much like this often, do you?" You shook your head. "Um... No..." You replied, your voice was soft, almost meek in comparison to his. The pair of you lapsed into silence for a while, sitting the way the pair of you normally did, just much much closer than usual. It was quite surreal, actually. Though you had often thought of the way the gap between you might one day lessen, you had never for one moment thought that this would be how. A few more minutes pass by, and as the midday sun starts to hit the top of the bridge's pillars, an idea strikes you. You start to rummage deep in your pockets, eliciting a strange look from the man beside you. You grasp at many small coins - just spare change you had grabbed and left in your pockets. To be honest you were surprised that there was any still left there, the amount of times you go to get something from your pocket and lose several coins. "Look-" You start, shoving the coins into his bruised and broken hands, "I know it's not much, but it's something, right-?" You hurriedly say to him, and his brows furrow. "I don't need your pity money." He tries to hand back what you had given to him, but you refuse. "I've got enough of it - I can get you some more, if you want-" "I just said-" "I know!" You cut him off, "But... It's just hit me how different our lives are, you know? Like... How much... Better, I have it." The man looked... Unimpressed. "You're joking, right?" Of course, to him, the differences were obvious. They were something thought about and discussed often, unlike with you, where it was a train of thought often shoved away, something that was not discussed in polite conversation. "It only just occurred to you?" You shrugged lightly in response, and he just sighed. "Listen... It's not that I don't appreciate it. I do. But..." He paused for a moment, "I can't just... Take your money, no matter how much you may have - it's not right." "You're not taking it!" You assure him, "I'm giving it to you... You need it a lot more than I do." And at this, he just... Looks at you. You couldn't really tell what he was thinking - then again, he didn't even know what to think in that moment. Were you just doing this out of pity, or was it genuine kindness? His mind logically went to the former, but something in his heart wanted to settle on the latter. A small glimmer of hope within him desperately wanted to believe that you weren't doing this just because you felt sorry for him, but because you genuinely wanted to help him. "I can bring some more tomorrow..." You told him quietly, glancing over your shoulder as if the guards would hear you. You knew they almost certainly wouldn't, not that they really cared anyway. "It's not a lot, but I'll get you more..."

"You didn't even have to give me this…" He mumbled, finally seeming to accept your gift to him. "I know… But you need it… I'm… I'm not going to miss it.." You admit to him, and he's just… Astounded. Not missing money? He could hardly fathom the idea. It just wasn't a concept in his day-to-day life. It was a small difference between your lives, but at the same time, it was something that had such an impact on both of you. There's a beat of silence as he considers this. "You sure?" He daren't pass this opportunity now - the one time he's found a Top-sider who seems to have any sort of empathy towards him and others like him. You nod, completely and utterly certain in your actions. "Yeah, I'm sure. You need it." "Thank you." The words are quiet, not quite ashamed, but appreciative. Truly and deeply grateful for this kindness, even though to you it was only small. There's another beat of silence, as he considers what to say next. "Name's Vander." "Huh… Suits you." You smile back at him, and Vander just watches you for a moment, almost expectantly. "You going to tell me your name?" He asks you, and you consider doing so for a moment. "Maybe." You reply, a smile playing on your lips. "But… Maybe we should be on better terms first…" "What, so you're now my mysterious benefactor?" He asks, shaking his head a little bit. "Come on… It's just your name…It's not like I'm askin' for your whole life story now, is it?" "Well, no.. but… Well you offered your name first, and I was totally fine to keep things anonymous between us… That's how it's always been, and… I don't know if I'm ready to take the leap out of that mystery just yet…. You know?" You turn to look at him, and after a moment, he begins to nod slowly. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean…" He replies slowly. There's a beat of silence before he speaks again. "I respect it… I won't pry. Could be… Fun, I s'pose… Though I don't know if telling folks back home that I got this money from 'a mysterious topsider' will go down well…" Before you could reassure him about the situation, and give him something to tell the other people back home that wouldn't get him in trouble, he spoke once more. "Ah well… I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get to it, eh?" "You could always say it's from a dear friend?" You suggest to him, and Vander shakes his head. "They'd never believe that, not in a million years… I think the mystery will probably serve me a little better, might be able to make some story with it…" He nods thoughtfully at his own words. "Well, so long as you're sure…" "I am." Vander replies assuredly, clearly despite the inconvenience of the lack of information you've given him has had no effect on his confidence at the moment. "Besides, I think people'll be more concerned about this." He chuckles as he holds up a fist. There's another moment of silence between the two of you. Content, almost friendly. Then, Vander puts his hands on his knees, pushing himself to his feet. You follow suite, and he turns to you. "Well, um… Thank you." He tells you, almost awkwardly. It's clear he's not entirely sure what to say to you here. "I've… Got to get going… But I'll be back, tomorrow, like always… If you are, of course…" "I've never missed a day." You respond with a light chuckle. "You take care of yourself, alright? Try not to get into anymore fights?" You ask, like a concerned parent worrying about their rebellious son. "No promises." Vander laughs quietly, before slowly starting to plod away. "I'll catch you next time…" By the time you've glanced at him to say your own goodbyes, he's gone too far down the path for you to follow. At least today. Perhaps, you think as you turn to start on your own way home, you may be able to summon the courage to cross the bridge at a later date. But for now, you're just happy you have your own little meeting place, with Vander. It'll do, for the time being.

[auxiliarydetective]

OC Pride Challenge: Day 8

You can find the challenge here

We're currently in LGBTQIA+ Tropes week and for today's prompt I decided to use...

Ambiguos Gender Identity for Kit Kelley

This takes place during the Season 5 episode Dishpan Man: Frankie meets Kit for the first time and is trying to figure everything out

“Well, Murdock, I could’ve told you his skull is thicker than yours,” Kit remarked with a smirk. She rubbed Murdock’s back as he lay in the back of the truck in pained stupor. “Really, bonking heads with B.A. to try and knock him out is probably the dumbest thing you’ve come up with so far and that’s really saying something. Everyone knows you need something sturdier than that.”

“Oh, Kit, you’re always so nice,” Murdock moaned and rolled over onto his back.

“I know, I’m a real gentleman.”

“And who are you?” Frankie asked, staring at Kit as if she were an alien.

“I’m Kit Kelley. Need someone to turn you into a woman, I’m your man.”

“Oh, so you’re a guy,” Frankie gasped. “I didn’t-”

“No, I’m not,” Kit cut in. “Come on, let’s get on the plane before they take off without us.”

With that, she hopped off the truck.

“Is she a woman?” Frankie then asked Murdock who was peeling himself off the truck.

“She’s Kit,” Murdock just replied. “C’mon, we gotta go.”

Frankie, still flabbergasted, followed Murdock to the plane. This made no sense to him, clearly. But Murdock was completely nonchalant about it all. Murdock was making no sense either, in the eyes of Frankie. When they got on the plane, B.A. was still knocked out cold, having been placed in one of the seats. Hannibal was busy inspecting the various cabinets. Meanwhile, Kit and Face were chatting by General Stockwell’s desk. Face had taken over the desk chair, putting his feet up on the desk and his hand around Kit’s waist.

The plane took off and now they were on their way to Spain. Frankie distracted himself momentarily by thinking about what lay ahead of them. How on earth were they supposed to free that plane? Those terrorists were armed with submachine guns, for crying out loud, and the army couldn’t do it, so… what were they supposed to do? And why was he with them? Hannibal - where did he even get that nickname from? - had said something about needing his special effects skills. But what were special effects going to do for them? When he was done worrying about that though, he found himself staring at Kit again. She wore a shirt that looked a lot like Face’s, almost like it actually was his. Hell, maybe it was. Now that she had it unbuttoned and a sort of tube top or maybe even a bra underneath it was revealed, it should be easier to tell if she was a man or a woman, but her chest gave nothing away. The piece of clothing underneath her shirt could just as well be an odd fashion choice or something medical or-

“Hey, Frank,” Hannibal’s voice pulled him back into reality.

“Huh?”

“Done staring?”

“Oh, yeah,” Frankie murmured.

“Look at him,” Kit said, shaking her head. “Staring at me like he’s never seen a woman before.”

“So you are a woman!” Frankie called out.

“No, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying you’re probably not that popular with girls, that’s all.”

To this, Frankie scoffed loudly, whereas Hannibal and Face just grinned. Murdock looked… bored? Annoyed? Amused? Who knew. Face got up from the desk chair and disappeared behind the curtains to the comfier area of the plane, leaving Kit to take his place. She swung her combat boots onto the table and reached into one of them. Out came a knife that she started twirling in her hands. Increasingly frustrated, Frankie started one final try.

“What are you?” he asked Kit.

“I’m a trapeze artist,” she replied.

“No- God dammit, what’s in your pants, Kit?”

“Now, that’s not a thing to ask a lady,” Murdock cut in. “You’re lucky B.A. isn’t awake, he’d give you a concussion.”

“And you’re lucky I’m in a good mood, it rarely happens,” Kit grumbled. “Listen, sucker, what’s in my pants is none of your business because you’re never gonna see it. Now shut up because I’m also a knife thrower.”

With those words, she, too, disappeared through the curtain Face had gone through.

“Look,” Murdock said, sitting Frankie down on a box, “all you gotta know is we usually say ‘she’ and you don’t wanna call her a girl or a lady unless you wanna make her angry. And trust me you don’t want that.”

“But you just-” Frankie stammered.

“It’s a right you've gotta earn,” Hannibal explained. “She’s gotta know you don’t mean it and even then you gotta ask. And another thing you gotta know: She hits like a man. Better than most men, in fact. So don’t get on her bad side.”

“But if she’s not a man or a woman, what is she? Both? Neither?”

“She’s Kit.”

[saratogaroadwrites]

For King and Country (64/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount:  280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

=

“Blegh!” Tani exclaimed, ripping the makeshift mask off of her face and taking a heaving gasp for air. “We are never doing that again, do you hear me? Never!”

Roland couldn’t help but agree with her. Evan was caught up in the middle of a sneezing fit, too busy trying to breathe to give her anything but a miserable nod, and the others didn’t look much better. They had made landfall on the southern shore of Autumnia’s northern half just before dawn that morning, all of them glad to see solid land after a month at sea.

None of them, however, had been expecting to see the swamp of toxic green muck that had lay between their ship and Broadleaf proper. There had been no way around it, and only Batu’s quick thinking of cloth masks lined with some of the dried, unprepared Soreaway had let them pass through the poisonous cloud of gas and vapors the swamp had been emitting. Unfortunately, not even the fragrant herbal smell of the little plant had been enough to handle the stench. It clung to them like a pall, horribly acrid even to Roland’s nose. He couldn’t imagine Evan was handling it well.

Judging by how the boy was rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms, growling low and quiet, he was probably right.

“We’ll have to,” Evan rasped, causing Batu and Lofty to both groan. The Higgledies milling at Evan’s feet sagged at their waists and bent over. “We can’t just leave Ketch and his crew back there.”

“That’s—that isn’t—” Tani sputtered, then buried her face in her hands and groaned loudly. “Why did you have to start making sense, Evan?”

Evan laughed sheepishly. Shaking his head, Roland pulled off his mask as he looked around. From the outside, Broadleaf had towered over the dead and dry Sequoia Valley, the tallest thing for miles around. A tree made out of metal and glass, it creaked and groaned in the twilight winds. Up ahead, the gush of steam through pipes hissed at the edges of Roland’s hearing, the air only slightly cleaner than what they had just walked through. The acrid stench of poison was fading, replaced by the perhaps worsening smell of burnt oil and thick blackness of coal smog. A sneeze tickled at the back of Roland’s nose as the group headed for the stairs.

“What could have caused all of that,” Leander asked quietly; when Roland turned, the man’s eyes were back on the way they had come in. The Valley was turning brown and dark in the fading light of evening behind them. “Not just the swamp, but the damage to the land itself. Surely this isn’t sustainable.”

“It’s not,” Roland replied, turning away to cough. He waved off Leander’s concern, stuffing his mask into his arms band. “That green goop was industrial runoff of some kind, I think. A byproduct of science getting out of hand.” Too far out of hand, he thought. He’d only ever seen that color in Trevor’s cartoons before, an overdramatic rendering of…radiation.

Oh.

Roland shuddered. Tove crooned softly into his ear as he took a deep breath, shoving the thought into a box in the back of his mind. Now wasn’t the time to deal with that.

“It’s basically poisoning the land. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s done the same to the people, too.”

“Yes,” Leander said, his eyes narrowed pensively. “Though I will admit, I am surprised you are not one of them.” When Roland blinked, confused, Leander spread his hands. “You mentioned you were sensitive to Darkness. Do you not sense any here?”

Suddenly aware that there was no pressure building at the base of his skull, no one playing drums with his brain, Roland startled. He glanced sideways at Tove, but the little Higgledy looked back at him and shook his head. He wasn’t shielding Roland from anything now.

Just ahead of them, walking at Evan’s feet, Lofty went stiff.

“Ah, knickers,” he hissed. The three Higgledies that had been crowding around him had also gone stiff, and they all looked a little concerned. Evan glanced down at his Kingmaker.

“Lofty?” he asked, “What is it?”

“What I was afraid of, mun,” Lofty said, “There’s Dark here, but it ‘en’t Doloran’s muck. It’s…” He trailed off, looking at his hands. “…This 'en’t good.”

“Perhaps not,” Aranella said, “but if the Darkness here does not belong to Doloran, doesn’t that mean that he hasn’t gotten here yet?” She looked over the group, “Or established himself even if he is here? We might still be able to keep him from stealing President Vector’s Kingsbond.”

Evan pressed a hand to his heart, clearly relieved, but Roland wasn’t so sure. They had all seen Doloran appear and disappear in a wash of shadows. Even if this Darkness wasn’t his, what would stop him from taking advantage of it and just appearing the second that Vector was found wanting? Nothing much at all. It would actually be the smarter thing to do.

It would have been what Roland would have done, if he’d been the one stealing Kingsbonds.

He shuddered again.

“We must speak with President Vector,” Evan said; Roland jolted out of his thoughts as the boy continued, “And warn him. Before things can escalate any further. And—” Before he could finish, a massive sneeze ripped its way out of him. He floundered back a step, the Higgledies at his feet leaping out of the way with startled cries. Everyone stared at him, and then Tani put a hand to her mouth and laughed.

“Evan!” She giggled, “You have to be able to talk without sneezing first!”

“I know that!” Evan said, sniffling in a very undignified manner. Pulling a handkerchief from his arms band, he blew his nose before tucking it away. “L-let’s just head up and take a look around. See if we can’t figure out what’s going on here.”

It was as sound a plan as any. Their footsteps clanked on the stairs as they headed up a level, falling into their usual formation with practiced ease. This was the only thing that kept them from crashing into another when they all came to an unceremonious stop at the top of the stairs, looking around with wide eyes and dropped mouths.

Holy…, Roland thought.

Broadleaf was like something out of a science fiction book, all metal and glowing neon screens lit with green. Hissing steam burst out of open pipes in patterned regularity, clouding the humid air even further. Windows cut into the sides of what must have been the trunk of the tree allowed hazy light to pass through its hollowed out center, but the lights built into the sides of walls and houses built into the walls them selves lit more than the sun ever could. A massive flight of stairs curved up the side of the tree, leading so far up that Roland couldn’t see the top.

“The ‘eck is this place?!” Lofty burst out, bouncing up to Evan’s shoulder and looking this way and that. “’Ow can anybody live without the sun and the dirt and the wind?!”

Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe that was part of the problem here.

“They would be quite cranky, apparently,” Aranella said. Her footsteps made softer noises as she padded back over to the group from where she had slipped away unnoticed. She gestured back behind her as she said, “Those two men were talking about a protest taking place on the top level. An Anti-Vector protest.” She eyed Roland; he inclined his head at her unanswered question.

No happy people would protest their leader. The question thus became: why were they so unhappy? Batu snorted.

“Aye,” he rumbled, “I’d wager we’ll find our man up at that there protest. What say you, yer Majesty?”

Evan nodded.

“Everyone,” he said, looking back over the group, “Stay close, and be careful.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this.”

He wasn’t the only one. But there was no time to listen to the bad feelings or twisting guts. At a hurried pace, the Delegation made their way up the stairs, a flimsy guard rail the only thing between them and a lengthy fall back down. Batu kept himself between the kids and the drop as they trotted up the stairs, a muffled roar of voices rising in volume the higher up they got. One of Evan’s ears twitched.

“…We’re not slaves?” he parroted quietly, head cocked. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Roland said, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. “But we’re about to find out.”

The top of the steps wasn’t far. From her spot at the front of the group, Aranella looked back. She met Roland’s eyes with a cautious frown; he nodded in return, and watched as she straightened out her shoulders. She crested the stairs first and came to such a halt that the rest of them nearly ran into her.

“Miss Nella—” Tani started, only to stop as she realized what was going on. Evan clapped his hands to his ears, staring at the crowd in front of them as they continued their chant.

”We’re not slaves, we’re not slaves!” echoed through the wide open space that was Broadleaf’s uppermost level, the sound bouncing off the blue glass that formed the under layer of leaves. The protesting crowd had gathered in front of a large building, probably the industrial hub of the city, and were hefting signs up over their shoulders. Roland squinted to see them through the constant motion.

”No rest, no work”,” Batu grumbled, “What in blazes are they on about?”

“Perhaps being made to work long hours without breaks?” Leander suggested pensively from his place in the huddle the Delegation had fallen into. “There are signs that say “No more overtime” as well.”

“They’re definitely overworked,” Roland said, scanning their faces. Nearly everyone in the crowd had bags under their eyes or were flagging, but no one seemed to be in any hurry to stop. “Look at them all. I haven’t seen people look this tired since we were still building housing back home.”

Desperate to be out of tents before the rains came, everyone had thrown themselves into the work. Even Evan had worked himself to exhaustion a few times, but they had all been tied together by the hope of a new nation. These people…they didn’t seem to have any of that hope.

“It isn’t just that,” Aranella said, holding Evan back with a hand on his shoulder. “They look angry. They’ve been pushed too far and now…”

And now they were one step away from a full blown riot. If something tipped this crowd over the edge, Roland thought, it would turn into a bloodbath.

“We should leave.” He said, and when Evan whirled around he stood his ground. “Things could get really ugly, really fast. We should find someplace safer to wait them out, come after Vector from another angle.”

“But—” Evan began, then stopped himself. One ear twitched backwards, then the other. He turned back around. “…What’s that sound?”

Everyone turned to follow his attention, and that was when they saw it. A massive door carved into the side of the tower was beginning to creak open, allowing a burst of chilled, fresh-smelling air to filter in and with it, the noise of rapidly spinning propellers. Evan clamped his hands over his ears again.

“What is that?!” He shouted to be heard over the racket. Just ahead of them, the crowd started yelling louder just to be heard. “Is that President Vector?!”

If it was, he had the worst sense of timing in the world, not to mention the worst sense of aesthetics. As the Delegation watched, a flying craft that looked to be a cross between the blimps and biplanes of bygone days in Roland’s world sailed into the open space…if the blimps and biplanes of bygone days had ever had solid gold faces welded to their fronts. Roland pulled a disgusted face as the noise of propellers died down, the ship hovering on some other form of power. It hung suspended in front of the crowd for a few tense seconds.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Without warning, a vibrant purple light began to glow from within the aircraft. Just below it, the air rippled. Sensing something was off, the protesting crowd began to go quiet. Roland narrowed his eyes.

“What’s…”

Lofty, hanging off of Evan’s shoulder, went stiff.

“Oh, no,” the little Kingmaker whispered, “Don’t tell me the blighter’s gonna—”

“He’s summoning his Kingmaker!” Leander shouted, but the warning came too late. The Delegation could only watch, stunned, as President Vector turned his Kingmaker on his people.

Roland had read about Bastion in Goldpaw’s library. The largest of the four known Kingmakers, he was almost turtle in shape, with four sturdy legs supporting a mountain of a body. President Vector had evidently upgraded his Kingmaker as well as his town, because the Bastion that rippled into view was clad in golden armor, the castle like structure on his back spewing steam into the already hot air. With an avalanche-like rumble, Bastion lifted a single massive paw above the crowd.

No one waited around to get stomped on. Terrified screaming split the air as the crowd scattered. Some ran into the building behind them, but most headed straight for the stairs. Faced with the wave of people headed their way, the Delegation moved quickly. Darting up the last few steps, they ducked into a nearby alcove, unable to do anything but watch as Broadleaf’s citizens ran for any cover they could find.

In the plaza, Bastion began to gather energy. The plaza crackled with sparks, the scent of burnt ozone filling the air.

“What’s he doing?” Tani yelped, clinging to Evan with both hands, “Is he actually attacking his own people!?”

“I think he is,” Aranella said, pulling the children back behind her. Roland didn’t bother telling her that wasn’t going to matter in a few seconds. He just took up position in front of her, Batu’s bulk hiding them from sight as best he could. “We need to get out of here!”

“Hey!” A voice called. The group turned to find a pink-haired woman hanging halfway out a doorway carved into the wall nearby. She gestured to them with one arm, eyes wide. “In here! His attacks can’t get through metal!”

There was no time for another plan or for asking questions. Without hesitating, the Delegation ran for the door. The kids and the Higgledies slipped in first, then Aranella and Leander, with Batu and Roland bringing up the rear. Once the last of them were through, the woman slammed the door shut.

With a hard clang, they were plunged into darkness.

[nrrrdgrrrl2002]

You have any more facts/info on your ink!cuphead that's apart of ur bendy and the artificial industry au?

Ooh yeah!

I forgot to share his background on here

So ink cuphead here came to be because gent sold an ink machine to the company that makes the cuphead show in this universe (idk cuphead lore well enough to know who’d that be)

It didn’t go right so the company gave him and the ink machine back to gent.

Gent kept him locked up, figuring he could be useful for them later on.

Eventually they figure the rainbow ink he was infused with when created could make him able to beat the ink demon, so they sent him off to do so

Problem: this kid isn’t aware of where or what he is and still thinks he’s the cuphead from the show who’s fighting some demons sent after him alongside mugman and miss chalice.

Bendy manages to knock some sense into him and get him to realize the reality of what’s going on and what he’s doing.

And he doesn’t take it well.

He goes ballistic on the ink siblings before having a breakdown and

MASSIVE s•icide trigger warning:

uses his rainbow ink finger gun to shoot himself in the head before he can be stopped

(He survives)

Gent manages to fix him up after and he gains a small, docile form.

Eventually, him and bendy go through the “I’m tied up with my enemy and we have to work together” trope and become friends.

Cupheads still convinced he’s the cuphead from the show and that his memories are real, despite bendy bringing up that those memories are fake and the things and people in the show don’t exist.

But otherwise they’re actually pretty good friends

As for fun facts:

•he has a big monster form (that I still need to finish designing). This is actually how he started off before Gent “fixed” him

•he originally couldn’t talk and can’t speak in his big form. But he can talk in his smaller form, only having a slight glass cracking sound with each word he speaks

•he looks tall but he’s only like, 5’2” in his small form. His big form, on the other hand, is huge. He’s of a similar size as shipahoy Wilson but with a much thicker build, similar to a heavyweight fighter

•he hasn’t actually existed for very long but he’s mentally/technically physically 12-13

•unlike the ink siblings, he can taste and smell (turns out the lack of a sense of smell/taste is mostly exclusive to pure ink creatures made by the original ink machine)

•he enjoys eating normal food but his ACTUAL food source is color. He can suck the color out of things with his stingers

•he misses elder kettle, miss chalice and mugman SO much. ESPECIALLY mugman. He’s actually considered trying to recreate mugs with an ink machine but knows it’s a bad idea

•he’s actually not as impulsive as his cartoon counterpart. He’s still a dumbass but he has somewhat realized how dangerous his impulsivity has been

•he’s extremely attached to Bendy. Bendy reminds him a lot of mugman so he’s kinda clingy. He even develops a crush on Bendy that Bendy ultimately can’t reciprocate

•also he’s a bisaster cause I say so

Im sure I have more but I’ll probably bring ‘em up later.

Thanks for the ask!

[deeeelightfuldee]

What was the last thing you purchased off of Amazon? im not sure. right now, im trying to narrow down my cart which has : nail polish, 2 makeup brushes, a carpet/upholstery cleaner, a pair of reeboks, a pair of booties, a cheap ring, a necklace, 2 hair clips, a bracelet kit, eye brow stuff.

What are you wearing right now? shorts and a tank.

What is the best thing that’s happened to you in the last week? ive been 30 for one week officially. my birthday was nice What was something that your mind kept dwelling on this week? ummm. well. oof. today i found out someone who is pursuing me called a realtor and has several showings this week for apartments/condos/townhomes/houses to move closer in order to easily/properly court me. that news was just oddly triggering and i hate that. i had really wanted K to do that for me -- and for a little bit i was lead to believe he was going to. but in reality, that wasn’t and won’t ever happen. I know his job is important to him and hes terrified of change - to the point he will lose me. i know that's not easy for him. But this other guy is moving and going to work out transferring jobs and separating from his family/friends. idk. its just bothering me that it bothers me.

Do you drink tea or coffee every day? no, neither. Where is your best friend right now? uhhhhh who is that.

Would you rather read a novel or watch a movie? novel Do you have any significant medical problems? yes

How old were you when you had your first crush? 14

Name something that is the same color as your eyes. ocean

When was the last time you rode a bike? uhhhhh its been a very long time actually.

What grocery store to you shop at the most? meijer usually. maybe jewel too.

Do you like cottage cheese? I VERY MUCH do not.

What is one thing you would do differently if you could go back and change the past? i think i would have probably asked more questions about things that i was concerned about. 

Does anything on your body hurt right now? My left shoulder. and my neck

What’s your favorite song at the moment? uhhhhhh thats a very good question.

How do you discover new music? usually ill go to a song i love and then play that songs “radio” on spotify

What was the last flavor of tea you drank? uhh some berry kind

Do you have a balcony? no. 

What do you think would be a good name for a cat? i love things like Jeff, Pickles lol

List three things that you love about your favorite season. the cold weather, the LOUD quiet of snow :), the decor

When was the last time you ate a salad? couple days ago Have you ever shopped at Kmart? yea hello, im American

Do you have a common name? uhhh its a name people know from formerly famous individuals but its not common in that i have only met 2 other people with my name throughout my life.

Zombies or unicorns? neither

Candy corn or conversation hearts? hearts

Brownies or cookies? both but imma go cookies

What are three of the most disgusting foods, in your opinion? spinach, fish, mushrooms

What was the last restaurant you ate at? like actually sat down at the restaurant.. 3 corners

Where is one place that you have never been that you’d like to travel to? switzerland

Have you ever had a migraine? yes

What’s one medication that you take every day? nothing. tho LATELY its tummy meds cus i am not eating well/often due to avoiding my kitchen. ugh.

What color is your wristwatch? my favorite smart watch was black but its broken and only works like on MOST random occasions. i miss it.

Do you like sushi? no, no i do not.

If you could change one thing about your hair, what would it be? Id love it to be thicker or bright blonde.

How many laptops have you owned? 3

How many cell phones have you owned? a lot.

What are three of your favorite Pinterest boards? idk food ones.

Do you have a YouTube channel? not like professional style but i have an account.

Who was your third grade teacher? mom

If you wear glasses, how old were you when you started wearing them? i don’t, but i kinda wish i did. theyre so cool.

Are you happy with your life right now? in some parts very much so. in some, not at all. 

What is your favorite pizza topping? if its red sauce then like pepperoni, pepperocinis, onion. if its bbq sauce then chicken or ham, red onion.

How many pullover hoodies do you own? a lot. i love hoodies.

Do you prefer to take showers in the morning or evening? morning if i need my hair to look nice. evening if i wanna be cozy.

What’s the weather like today where you live? today was fun cus it was exceptionally gloomy outside without anything more than mist. i love those dark days

List five words to describe yourself. positive, curious, guarded, sassy, academic

Do you feel like your personality fits your zodiac sign? tbh yeah but i dont follow that.

List three youtubers you like to watch. i dont use youtube except for things like you would call a father figure to help you with.

Would you ever want to be a youtuber for a living? No, not my thing.

What’s one thing about you that people might be surprised to find out? i can memorize like a motha’ trucka’.

Do you own any antiques that were family heirlooms? uhmmmmmm not really to my knowledge. ill get them when people sadly pass.

Do you like to read? i do. a lot.

What is your favorite type of chocolate? anything ultra rich

Would you rather drink hot chocolate, hot tea, hot apple cider, or hot coffee? oooooooooo toss up for hot cocoa or cider. i love both

Do you like to watch cartoons? sure

What is one thing you like that a lot of people don’t? organizing, homework, tests, being caught in rain.

What is one thing that everyone else seems to like that you don’t? fish, sushi, politics, sunshine, warmth

When was the last time you went swimming? about a month ago. ill be in the pool err day next week for like 10 days lol

Do you own a lava lamp? no

Owls or penguins? penguins

Do you own a pair of pants with the word “Love” on them? lol no. but i would totally buy a pair of juicy pants. 

What are three of your favorite clothing stores? currently, old navy, tjmaxx, target

Do you wear yoga pants? when its warm enough

What were three of your favorite gym class activities in elementary school? i didnt go to school

Have you ever been to church? yea!

Do you get stage fright? nah, i grew up doing that stuff.

What’s something you think is amazing? the human brain

Do you like Arizona green tea? I am not a green tea person but i do like their raspberry one

Monkeys or llamas? I dc

How many months until your birthday? 12

Who was the last of your friends to have a baby? uhhhhhhhh alix

What is one of your favorite baby names? max

Do you like to dance? sure!

Have you ever taken a tap dance class? briefly lol

Would you rather travel to Europe or Asia? europe

What’s your favorite vegetable? right now im craving cauliflower

List three positive adjectives that start with the letter of your first name. dashing, determined, daring

Do you wear leggings? sometimes. i do a lot for the gym.

What was the last thing you ate that had chocolate in it? uhhhhhhhhhhh hersheys

What was the last thing you ate that had cheese on it? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... cauli pizza

Do you like macaroni and cheese? not really, no. GF options just arent the same and im not like a cheese LOVER im just OK with it

[saintobio]

casanova.

↳ gojou satoru/reader

gojou is far from a dream — he is a nightmare ready to swallow the entirety of your heart, only to spit it to your face so you could wake up to the reality that you and him are never once meant to be.

genre. angst, established relationship, student!gojou

cw. insecure!reader, babie!reader, asshole!gojou, hurt/no comfort, toxic relationship, falling out of love, suggestive, cheating, usage of alcohol, gojou does some really hurtful shit

notes. it’s finally here after two damn weeks of being on hold. yall had fun w dilf!gojou so how about i give you some pain lmao

masterlist -> part two

It came to a point where you believed that Satoru didn’t really appreciate you.

Two weeks since you’ve last seen him, you expected that he would at least act a little happy to see you again after what seemed like eons from the last. Satoru was a busy man—he constantly went on missions, participated in his school’s events, and probably exorcised cursed spirits for trying to become the world’s strongest sorcerer. You didn’t understand what he meant by his role in this said sorcerer topic, but as often as you would ask, he would respond with: the world is in shambles without me. Never questioning the lack of time that he was giving you was only for the very reason that you considered just how hectic his duties could be. He had a huge burden of responsibilities resting squarely on his shoulders. Putting you second in his priority list was something you learned to simply accept eventually, promising that he would give all of his sweet time with you whenever he did get a chance to.

But minus the lack of time, there were other factors that were affecting your relationship as a whole. It may be too early to think so given that you have only been dating him for a little over 9 months. You fondly reminisced the good old days when you first met Satoru while you were on a shopping spree with your friends at Shibuya. After asking for your number, the man would visit you every weekend in your apartment with a bouquet of flowers and sweet kisses.

Looking at the present tugged at your heartstrings because the sudden change was painfully obvious. How could you build a good foundation for this relationship to last when he wasn’t trying to make it work?

For one, Gojou no longer had gleam in his eyes whenever he reunited with you after a long period of not seeing each other. You imagined that his cerulean eyes would coruscate with love upon the sight of his girlfriend, but all that were present in those ocean orbs were cold and distant.

“Did you even put make up on?” was the first question he chose to ask when you met him outside of your apartment complex on a sunny afternoon. He didn’t say I missed you or I’m glad to see you, but had chosen to nitpick on your appearance from the second he saw you.

You would have gushed about how dapper he looked in his button-down and fitted jeans, but his pedantic fault-finding held you back from complimenting him. Not to mention that he had a disappointed peer on you from behind his dark sunglasses. “Y-Yeah, I did put some make up on.”

Was it not enough? Should you have used thicker foundation? You thought he always liked it natural so you only kept it light. Did he find you particularly unattractive today?

He nodded with little care, urging you to start walking beside him before he added, “I think you stopped trying to look good for me, baby.”

Satoru had always been playful but tactless with his words. His condescending tone reflected just how much he didn’t give a damn whether you should take it as constructive or offensive. Deep inside, you were gearing towards the latter but you leaned more into taking it constructively on the external. Gojou was Gojou and you were you—he makes a comment, you take it with a grain of salt. That was the expected dynamic.

“I’ll try to look better for you next time,” you muttered, catching up to his pace and clinging to his forearm. He was unknown to the sting that his words have left behind, but you being pathetically in love, you pushed it back.

“If you love me, you should.”

Your casual dates often happened every Fridays until it cut down to just twice a month because he could no longer commit to the weekly agreement that you used to have. On the brighter side of the spectrum, you were glad to be with him despite the decrease in your supposedly constant dates. You were forced with the thought of being grateful enough that Satoru even spared some time to meet with you when he could have been resting in his free time. He chose you when he could have been laying in bed and saving his energy for himself.

And with those special days, you wanted to be as romantic and sweet to him as you could to show just how happy you were around him. To show just how thankful you were of your relationship with him. But one thing that prevented those expectations when you went out with him was how Gojou wouldn’t hold your hand in public.

He hated PDA. He always hated the idea of being openly expressive, hated when you get touchy with him when other people were around. Brushing it off or simply pulling away was a common occurrence whenever you tried to hold his hand before. You understood that there were people who didn’t prefer to show their affection in public and you couldn’t blame Satoru for being one of them. You shouldn’t. Still, in the back of your mind, you wondered if his distaste for PDA was the only reason he had for not holding his own girlfriend’s hand.

“Weather’s nice today, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning back on the barrier as you faced the water stream. The stillness of the river was as calming as the sight of the clear blue skies spreading on the horizon.

Tilting your head to peek at him, Satoru’s face sparkled with effulgence. You have loved this man for nearly a year and nothing ever stopped your heart from skipping a beat whenever you saw his radiant smile—the kind of smile that raised his cheekbones and formed a cute puff on the corner of his lips. This very smile brought you felicity because when Satoru was happy, you were happy.

“It is,” you responded, trailing off to follow his line of sight.

Except, you realized that the reason for his smile wasn’t because of you. It was because of the group of girls standing from a distance who all had a clear interest on him. The women exchanged looks, nudging each other as if they were deciding on who should approach your boyfriend first. Their intentions were clear as day, but your feelings were as clouded as an impending storm. “Satoru.”

He met your eyes for a split second. “What?”

It’s not fair that you’re looking at other girls while you’re with me. You sighed, “Can we just move somewhere else?”

It seemed that he had caught on and realized that your face was filled with jealousy. Truth was, Gojou hated it when you were jealous. He would get annoyed whenever you tried to bring up the fact that he had wandering eyes, telling you that it wasn’t his fault that girls would look at him. ‘You’re my girlfriend, isn’t that enough?’ you remembered these words he once told you before, causing his ire.

“Whatever. Let’s go,” he muttered, blasé about the insecurity in your eyes. Getting up to walk away, you followed his footsteps like a tail as you strode along the pathway to the riverside.

The crease on his forehead and the downward slope of his lips hinted his pique. “Satoru,” you called his attention once more, “I have the right to be jealous, you know.”

A moue was visible on his face. “It’s irritating. I don’t get jealous when you look at other guys.”

But that was because you never did. Not once did you pay attention to any other male because he was all you wanted. How could he not understand that? It was unfair. “Well, I just don’t like the way you’re looking at those girls—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, stopping in his tracks to face you with clear annoyance, “do you still wanna continue with this date or not? It’s a pain in the ass to keep arguing.”

Because you loved him, you let it go.

You made an excuse for his behavior because Satoru Gojou was not perfect and he had obvious flaws. Who were you to judge him when you weren’t perfect yourself, too?

You only wanted his attention and his love. Perhaps it was how you found yourself back in your apartment, pinned under your boyfriend with your legs on his shoulders as he rutted you like there was no tomorrow.

He ran his fingers through his hair before he increased the roughness in his thrusts and left you whimpering like a “pathetic crybaby” as he described you. While you desperately held onto him, he indulged you with the kiss that you so badly asked for by merely connecting his mouth to yours.

There was little passion in his kisses—teeth nibbling your lower lip, tongue whirling around yours, and a suction from his mouth before he placed his palm on the flat of your cheek and pressed your face sideways on the mattress. It was to remind you of your place and the limit he was imposing with the affection he could give.

“A-Aah—Satoru! Slow d-down!” you whined like a wimp, only receiving his condescending chuckle because stuffing your core full of his shaft without any ounce of pity was all he cared about. He didn’t give a shit when you started crying, also didn’t give a shit when you asked to have your turn to cum, too. Gojou started to only care about his own pleasure.

“I’m tired, baby. Next time.” Soon as he was sated, he rolled the condom out of his length, tossing it to the bin before he climbed next to you.

You looked at him with those docile eyes, “Did I do well?”

Did you seriously just ask him if you did a great job at sucking his dick, letting him be balls deep inside of you like it was only done for his pleasure alone?

Yes, you miserably did. Gojou’s opinion was important. Gojou’s approval mattered.

“It was fine,” he answered, bored stupid. “You could do better.”

At least, with the decency of staying next to you, you tried to be oblivious to the pricks in your heart. How could you be hurting when he stayed to be right here with you?

Being seated on his lap—cradled on his chest as you pulled away to sit up, Satoru was busy on his phone as you lovingly traced his toned chest with your gentle fingers. His handsome face, messy white hair, and azure eyes left you blushing with the thought that such a man was all yours to have.

And yet, Gojou’s full attention was not with you even when you two were alone in bed after a night of rough sex. Little does he know, you could see the reflection of his phone’s screen through the mirror above the headboard.

And you could see with clear vision that he was scrolling through different girls’ Instagram pages, staring at bikini pictures longer than he should have. Even at that, you couldn’t bring yourself to call him out because you were scared that he would scream at you.

“Satoru,” you spoke, hiding the pain in your voice. With a still breath, you put his phone to the side and placed your head on his chest, allowing him to hug you and stroke your hair like he used to. “Do you still think I’m the prettiest girl in the world?”

He took a deep breath. “...Yeah”

Gojou guiltlessly lied to your face.

With all the promises he made, he had already broken most of them. Making you cry to your sleep every time he said something hurtful, making you wait for two hours at your meeting place and informing you by text that he couldn’t come, making you feel insecure about yourself because his eyes always looked for someone better, someone prettier.

The red flags were there, but you chose to see other colors thinking that you and him were match-made in heaven only given a challenge to make your relationship stronger. ‘Perhaps it’s just a test’ was an excuse you kept on telling yourself.

How do you not feel sorry for yourself? Gojou clearly did. Or no, he probably didn’t. He got sick and tired of having you clinging around him and being a complete pushover unlike the other confident women he had his eyes on.

The only time you ever gathered the courage to follow his whereabouts was on a Saturday night at a house party that he never told you about. If Getou hadn’t unintentionally informed you, you never would have thought that Gojou would be spending his fine night getting drunk and being around other women. Women that looked better, dressed better, and could probably make him feel better.

Your emotions weren’t as colorful as the neon lights when you stepped inside the house, squeezing yourself through the grinding bodies of intoxicated men and women to find the white-haired person you called your boyfriend. Knowing that there were familiar faces in the house, they were kind enough to direct you to wherever Satoru could be hiding.

At first, you found his best friend Suguru by the living room with a panicked expression as soon as his eyes landed on you. “Y/N,” the guy looked around, “you’re here.”

You offered a small smile, heart pounding in your chest. It was beating even louder than the booming sound from the speakers. “Where’s Satoru?”

“He’s—”

“Babe?”

A quick pivot on your heels allowed you to see a surprised Gojou descending from the nearby stairs. Arctic white hair was a tad bit messy, two of his buttons were undone, the hem of his shirt untucked, but it was the faint smear of lipstick on his mouth that caused your pendulum of a heart into an abrupt stop.

To make the situation worse, it was your friend Kellie who followed him behind with a minute of awkwardness bathing her amber eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re going to a party?” you asked your boyfriend, backing against a wall with a hand stopping him from approaching you further. He noticed your accusatory eyes, but didn’t seem to be fazed by it.

“Baby, you’re my girlfriend not my wife,” he meant it as a joke, and although some of his friends chuckled, you didn’t.

Kellie tried to make herself clean, though. She gave you a hug of acknowledgment not realizing that you could smell your boyfriend’s scent on her skimpy dress. “Hey, Y/N. So glad to see you here,” she greeted, feigning innocence. “I was just showing Satoru around.”

Her breath smelled similar to Satoru—alcohol, lime, and whatever else they both had throughout the night. It seemed that no one was willing to address the elephant in the room, because for all its worth, you were just Gojou’s pathetic girlfriend who would make excuses for his actions.

With the looks his friends gave you, you knew they felt sorry. You knew they felt terrible. You knew they were aware of what Satoru had done or how long he was doing this.

Too busy to see you on a weekend? He was here with all the free time in the world drinking booze and fucking other girls. That was your cue to leave and walk out saying, “I’m going home.” Regardless of Satoru’s reaction, you no longer cared.

You were far too focused on keeping your composure as much as you were already shattered inside because Gojou cheated on you. He didn’t have to explicitly say it. You already saw it with your own eyes and there was no explanation that could save him from it.

It wasn’t like he defended himself, either. He simply followed you out of the house as you tried so hard to keep your tears in. Swallowing the weakness back in. Did Gojou care? He fucking didn’t. So why was he on your tail, walking on the street with you?

“Hey.” You felt his cold hand latching onto your arm, turning you around with a look of worry. He had always been indifferent to you, so why was he nervous now? Was it because the expression on your face scared him? Or was it because of your lack of acknowledgment towards his very obvious unfaithfulness? “Are you mad?”

You wanted to say yes, but you ended up saying “no.” Holding your breath and pulling your arm away, “I’m not mad, but you should’ve texted me.”

There was a look of relief that washed over his handsome face. He probably believed that he was off the hook when in truth, you were just beginning to form a stronger wall that he could no longer break.

“Sorry, the party was a last minute thing. You love me though, right?” He smiled, and you wanted to punch the smile off his face. You wanted to slap his cheek and yell at him, tell him how much of an asshole he was, how much of a liar and a cheater and a terrible boyfriend—no, you thought of something better.

“I do,” you answered, remaining in your stoic mien. “Do you still love me?”

He pulled you for an embrace, arms wrapped around your waist and his head resting above yours. “I do.”

“Do you still think I’m enough?”

“You are.”

“Do you still think I’m worthy?”

“Of course.”

“...Okay.”

“I cherish you.”

Gojou was made of lies after lies. Your questions needn’t be answered because you weren’t stupid, or at least no longer tried to be. How could a man like him be so unapologetic of his mistakes when he knew the painful truth veiled within his lies? How could he smile at your face after being inside another girl not an hour ago and act like you were his one and only?

“Okay...” you muttered in a low voice, pulling away from his hug and blinking the tears that welled up your eyes. “I’m gonna go home.”

You shouldn’t expect much because Gojou could only do the bare minimum for you. To think that he would take you home, jokes on you because he wouldn’t.

“Alright,” he simply said, kissing your forehead. “I’ll get you a cab.”

And when he did, you looked away from him as you got in the backseat while hearing him tell you to keep safe. Even as the car left, you saw his figure immediately walking back to the house without so much of a care if you were truly fine.

You had muffled sobs as the vehicle took you back to your apartment. You were weeping on your pillow as soon as you fell on your bed. Taking your phone out, there was not one text from Satoru to ask if you’ve arrived home safely.

There was no need to anymore. His name was erased on your contact list, his number blocked from your phone, and his photos deleted from your memories forever. Tonight was the last night you would ever let Satoru Gojou step on your heart and treat you like garbage, because from this day forward, you would change for the better.

You would leave him behind like a ghost, disappearing from his life forever.

Gojou was far from a dream. He was a nightmare ready to swallow the entirety of your heart, only to spit it to your face so you could wake up to the reality that you and him were never once meant to be.

jjk general taglist: @kity @deeznutss @tsukkisfatsimp @suhkusa @wonyoschubs @the-golden-jhope @zeickv @6mattsun9 @hokageyamz @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @crashica @aizawap @juniorhooter @kuroosbb @atsumusoup @gxtitobxby @strawberries-en-cream @dora-the-grownup @softy-woo @tsumume @gojoanti @kac-chowsballs @lets-go-datehoe @kageyamakock

[sukirichi]

“your hair is really soft” – jjk ver!

ft. itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, nanami kento, ryoumen sukuna, & inumaki toge

ITADORI YUUJI – you’re in the room with Yuuji, who is busy watching the movies gojo-sensei had given him. He holds the cursed corpse in his other side, careful not to let him hit you, while your head lies on his shoulder, eyes drooping close from your long day. Yuuji turns the volume down and brings you closer to him until you’re practically sitting on his lap, his lips making brief contact at the crown of your head while he mumbles sweet nothings, too engrossed in the movie.

You smile at his sweet gesture, gently fisting the front of his jacket while you return the affection, kissing the edges of his jaw softly to not distract him too much. Yuuji’s lips tilt at the soft press of your lips on his warm skin. Soon, your hands rake up to his hair where your nails rake his scalp. Immediately, Yuuji deflates like a balloon as he purrs at the movement, making you chuckle in your sleepy daze.

“Your hair is really soft,” you note, and his eyes practically sparkle. Yuuji was a huge fan of hair gels and hair products, that his desk was filled with different brands all so he could keep his hair perfectly styled – in that somewhat natural, messy appeal. You love it on him and he melts at the fact you’ve noticed his efforts into taking care of himself. Most of all, the feeling of the smooth tendrils running past your fingertips like caressing a field of flowers lulls both you and him to a serene state.

GOJO SATORU – Like Yuuji, Gojo takes his time in styling his hair. You brush your teeth beside Gojo, who scowls as he struggles to keep his hair up the way he likes before he puts on his blindfold. The lanky man groans and adds more product, flattening the strands of his hair between his palms before swooping it up. When it falls down, Gojo whines, leaning forward on the sink counter.

You chuckle to yourself; he could be so dramatic sometimes. Bumping your hip with his, you gesture at him to move, and the big baby pouts before placing his chin on your shoulder as he watches you gargle. “Babe,” he sniffles, arms wrapping around your middle before his nose nuzzles into your skin. You giggle and push him away; the little bastard knew you were ticklish there. “My hair won’t stick up the way I want it to. Now I don’t look so cool anymore. What would my students say? That Gojo-Sensei stopped being attractive?”

That earns him an eye roll and a playful smack to his shoulder. “Ow!” Gojo rubs his shoulder with another pout, although both of you know nothing ever really hurts the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re just fishing for compliments.”

When Gojo hides his smirk behind his palm, you know you’ve hit the nail right on the head. Gojo was probably the most self-assured and overconfident man you’ve ever met – the day he thought lowly of himself and worried about anything concerning him that would ruin his “image” would be the day pigs could fly. Nevertheless, you give in with a sigh, extending your palm towards him.

“Give me the gel. I’ll fix your hair for you.”

“You’re a lifesaver, babe!” Obediently, Gojo crouches down so you could reach his hair, but not before muttering “shorty” under his breath. You tug at his hair harshly than you intended as payback, and Gojo only lets out a loud, fake moan before doubling over.

Your laughter and his bubble and echo through the cramped room, but both of you don’t mind. It’s moments like these you cherish with your whole heart even though it’s not extremely sweet or anything over the top. Dating a jujutsu sorcerer, the strongest one at that, wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns. You worry for him all the time and stay up awake all night, only ever finding peace in your sleep when he comes home safely – which he always does.

Still, you don’t stop worrying for him. It’s only natural, after all, and the way Gojo’s eyes soften as you slightly massage his scalp and style his hair for him lets you know he loves small moments like this too when both of you are completely alone in your own worlds, just enjoying each other’s presence and not having to think about anything else.

“Your hair is really soft,” you muse, unaware of the way Gojo’s closed his eyes as he lets your hand do the magic. When the familiar scent of vanilla and flowers wafts into your senses, you lean down closer to him to sniff his hair, stopping in your movements. “That’s odd. You smell like shampoo, but I haven’t bought that scent in a week.”

“Well, I may or not be the one who emptied it the last time,” he sheepishly chuckles.

“Gojo! That shampoo was really expensive!”

“Yeah, but I wanted to smell like you,” he coos, gently peeling your arms off him so he could hug you. Because of the height difference, you face plant into his bare chest where his skin is still warm from the shower. You keep feigning your irritation, but really, you squish your cheek above his heart, and Gojo’s chest rumbles as he laughs – he knows you can’t resist him. “Sorry about it babe, let’s go grocery shopping tonight when I come home, yeah?”

“You better buy your own shampoo,” you grumble, but Gojo only laughs.

  FUSHIGURO MEGUMI – Megumi is hunched over his desk, eyebrows pinched together while his hands move at an extreme speed. He’s studying while you scroll through memes on your phone, not wanting to disturb your boyfriend. Megumi is studious as ever, and it’s not that you aren’t, but you’re definitely a lot more relaxed than he is. 

You often tease him that you’ve got amazing memory by tapping your forehead whenever he tells you to study with him, which only makes him huff, but in reality, you refuse to study with him because he’s so distracting.

The way he bites his lip when he’s concentrated on something has your stomach erupting with butterflies, and it doesn’t help when his dark blue eyes pierce through the pages like the poor textbook committed a crime he couldn’t forgive.

All in all, Megumi’s beauty tripled tenfold when he was dedicated to something, and it was this fact that had you keeping your distance from him while he studies, because the last thing he needs is to have you jump him when he’s got an exam to prepare for. Unbeknownst to him, you’re angling your phone upwards until his beautiful side profile comes to view – and it’s so unfair his lashes are longer and thicker than yours – and you take a silent snap.

You take a few more pictures with a silent giggle, making sure to set it as your lock screen later. Nothing better than waking up to Megumi’s face every time your alarm went off, but your daydreaming is halted when Megumi drops his pen with a loud sigh.

“I know you’re taking pictures of me,” he side-eyes you with a glare. You squeak before hiding your phone behind you, knowing that it’s not out of the picture for Megumi to steal them and delete his precious photos. It didn’t help he knows your password either (duh, it’s his birthdate) so you take the extra mile by offering him a sickeningly sweet smile, an apology ready to leave your lips when – “If you wanted my attention that badly, you could’ve just said so. I don’t mind taking a break or something.”

Although he sounds annoyed, the way he avoids your gaze to hide his reddened cheeks and ears say otherwise. Megumi’s back faces you as you wait patiently on his bed. You don’t want to bother him – you really don’t – so you stay put, and Megumi sighs for the hundredth time that night before spinning on his chair, arms stretched out wide open. “Come. Want hugs.”

He keeps his gaze on his lap to swallow the embarrassment of using baby-like words, which was a huge contrast from his quiet and cold persona. You don’t mind though. Deep down, Megumi is like everyone else who wants constant affection, so you leap out of his bed and jump into his arms. Megumi relaxes with your weight on top of him before he squishes his cheeks against your boobs – one of his quirks that you found endearing – a sign that he just wanted to relax for a little while.

Megumi isn’t really that huge on touch, so moments like this where he allows himself to be physically intimate with you has you floating on cloud nine. You hear him sigh between you, and you hide your grin by pushing his hair back to reveal those pretty eyes of his, beckoning him to look you in the eye.

As expected, his cheeks flush a beet red at the intensity of your gaze, but what really catches your attention is how his eyes just brighten even though they’re lined with dark circles. 

This precious boy means everything to you, and you cup his face until your noses are rubbing. “Love you, Gumi,” you whisper, the boy’s breath hitching when your eyelashes flutter against his skin. Megumi tsks, a faux scowl on his face because both of you are painfully aware that he just melts around you.

“Stop teasing me. You know I don’t like that.”

“I’m not teasing you,” you lie, brushing his hair back in a soothing manner to help him relieve the headache he gets when he studies too much. “You know, your hair is really soft. Can I keep doing this?”

Megumi hates it when people touch his hair, so you expect him to say no – and you’ll gladly respect it – but instead, he pushes you closer and murmurs, “Don’t stop doing that.”

You smile so wide you fear your face would break.

  NANAMI KENTO – You’ve always been fascinated with your co-worker. You don’t know what it is about the sharp-faced and stoic Nanami Kento that somehow makes him stand out from the rest. It’s not like he was smarter or better than anyone, although you do admit Nanami overworks most of the time.

It’s kind of pathetic you’ve been crushing on him ever since your first day of work. Maybe it’s because he worked with virtue and wishes to actually be honest instead of just sucking the money out of others. Maybe it’s because seeing him visit a bakery every after work makes him seem softer and a lot more human than his seemingly unapproachable nature. Whatever it was, you can’t explain why you’re so enamoured with the blond, or why you have the audacity to suddenly card your fingers through his hair at his desk that time.

You were told by your boss to give him this folder – quick, easy, and simple. But Nanami has this effect on you that he makes your brain go brr every time you go closer to him. You blame it on the fact both of you are alone at the office right now for OT, but when Nanami freezes under your touch, you realize the grave consequences of your actions.

As if you’ve touched something boiling hot – and he kind of is – you retract your arm and bow so deep you feel a vertebrae popping air. “I’m so sorry!” you begin to blabber, bowing repeatedly to the point your hair has become a mess. You can’t even look him in the eye – what were you thinking?! “I didn’t mean to, it’s just your hair looked really nice and soft and I couldn’t help myself! If you want to tell the higher-ups about this harassment and get me fired, I promise I won’t mind. In fact, I’ll take this to my grave and even offer my firstborn child as an apology—”

“Y/N.”

“because I’ve done something so horrendous and oh my gosh, I was just eating donuts and I probably got crumbs in your pretty hair—”

“Y/N,”

“And that’s really so low of me. Uh, actually, I may or may not have spent last month’s salary to buy my niece a huge ass dollhouse, but I’d gladly schedule a hair appointment for you—” you stop your words when you feel huge, calloused hands squishing your cheeks together until your lips are puckered out like a fish. Nanami stands before you, looking as handsome as ever, and that thought only has you panicking more and withdrawing. “I’m so sorry.”

Nanami sighs, pulling away to give you some space. You try to fight back the whine because not only did you look ridiculous under him, but also because you actually missed his touch.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind,” he takes the folder from you, pauses, then tilts his head to the side. “You think my hair is soft?”

“Uhm,” you blink rapidly, “Y-yes. Your hair is really pretty too. In fact, everything about you is pretty, like your hands when you type in paperwork but – I’m talking too much aren’t I?” you laugh nervously, scratching the back of your head. “I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” Nanami doesn’t sound like he believes it.

“Yeah,” you confess, switching your weight from one foot to another. At this point, you’ve given up on asking him out for coffee this weekend because you’re sure he’s labelled you as an idiot now. Not that it’s surprising though; not only does Nanami keep to himself out of social aversion, but you’re also pretty loud and awkward, a huge contrast to someone as well-put as him. “Anyways, uh,” you clear your throat, gesturing to your cubicle. “Now that you’ve got the file, I’m gonna go do my part. See you later, I guess. Or not. You can go home first you want. I’ve got quite a lot on my plate.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Sorry?”

Nanami organizes his desk one last time before following you to your desk. “I’m done with my part and it’s late. It’s not safe for you to walk home alone,” he glances at his watch, “I’ll wait for you until you’re done and walk you back home. That way, I don’t have to worry about your safety tonight,” he plops down on the empty seat next to yours, crossing his arms on his broad chest. “Take all the time you need. Just wake me up when you’re done.”

Just like that, Nanami dozes off, exhausted from a long day of hard work. You, on the other hand, are more energized than ever as you suddenly find a strong wave of motivation you’ve never had before.

Maybe you don’t mess up everything, after all.

  RYOUMEN SUKUNA – He groans when you giggle at him, using your small, dainty hands to brush it through his hair. Sukuna liked to sleep in and it was only seven in the morning, meaning he’s supposed to be still lost in dreamland with thoughts about you and your cute little face. But because you’re an annoying brat who’s an early bird and way too cheerful as a morning person, you’re wide awake when the sun shone through the windows, and you’re gently coaxing him awake by rotating your fingers through his hair.

“Your hair is really soft.”

“Stop that,” he complains, but doesn’t really do anything to push you away. “It’s too early. Go back to bed.”

“But I’m already awake,” you tease, proving your point by taking off his covers and patting his chest. “Come on, let me make you breakfast. Maybe we can go out today and go see a movie, what do you think? It’s my day off so we better make use of it!”

“Exactly, it’s a day off,” he growls the last part, surprising you when his strong hands grip your thigh and drag you beside him. Soon enough, Sukuna has you trapped in his muscular arms until you can’t move anymore. “Let’s just stay the whole day in bed. Plus, I’m the one making breakfast. There’s no way you’re still cooking for me on your day off.”

“But I love cooking for you.”

“I know, but it’s my turn now,” he huffs through your hair. Sukuna’s grip loosens around you a bit to give you room to breathe, but he’s taken aback when you only snuggle closer to him to the point your legs and tangled and your body is warm from his heat. You don’t have to say it out loud to tell him you’ve conceded to his wishes.

As always, Sukuna is right. It feels much better to just let go of time and enjoy this moment. And he smells so good, feels so warm, that you’re unable to stop yourself from burrowing closer onto his body until you’re sure you’re about to start smelling like him later.

Of course, Sukuna likes the thought of that, so he sweeps one arm behind to tug the covers back over your bodies. He kisses your temple, and with a low, husky voice, grumbles, “Let’s go back to sleep, then we’ll do everything you want later, okay? I just want to stay in bed with you a little longer.”

For a guy who was considered heartless and barbaric, he sure turned into putty in your hands.

  INUMAKI TOGE – The platinum haired boy lays on your lap, the wire of headphones dangling beside you both. You’re thankful Inumaki has his eyes closed, because the last thing you want him to see is how embarrassed and giddy you are at that moment.

You and Inumaki have been friends for years, meaning you’ve been hiding your crush on him for a painfully long time. He’s recently made a Spotify playlist with an innocent text of, “I made you a playlist of all the songs that reminds me of you,” which leads you both to your current predicament. It’s a rather lazy weekend and Gojo-sensei isn’t around to bother any of you, so you’re in Inumaki’s room, careful not to bounce your legs out of habit to not give the poor boy a headache.

You snap back to life when Inumaki squeezes your thigh, and you’re met with azure eyes looking back up at you. “Mustard leaf?” he points to your face, which has been previously constricted and heated from his close proximity. It isn’t the first time you and Toge have cuddled, but it’s been too long and you’re standing at the edge of a dangerous cliff with the desire to tell him you like him.

Inumaki must’ve thought you’re uncomfortable with his weight on you because he begins to sit up. “Oh, no, no!” you coax him back down despite his questioning eyes, a wide grin replacing your flustered state to conceal it. “Its’s fine, really. I was just vibing with the songs.”

He hums, not completely believing it, but he doesn’t want to push either. Soon, he settles into your lap again and makes you lose your mind when his breath starts to tickle your kneepads now that he’s facing behind you.

Your heart just about combusts, and before you know it, Inumaki has fallen asleep while the theme of Howl’s Moving Castle plays. Once his breathing regulated into a steady rhythm, you reach out to brush his hair back and lightly add some pressure for better sleep. You know Inumaki lies that, and you smile to yourself when he leans into your touch even in his slumber.

“Your hair is so soft,” you say mostly to yourself, leaning down to kiss his the crown of his head, making Inumaki sigh contentedly. Gosh, you love him so much.

Now isn’t the time but...hopefully, one day you could tell him how you feel. Even if he rejects you, you hope you could still be friends even after that awkward encounter –

You freeze as the next song comes on. I.F.L.Y by Bazzi comes on, and just as you cover your mouth to silence your gasps, you hear the faintest snickers coming from Inumaki before he goes back to “snoring.”

“Toge! Were you awake the whole time?!”

[zi-i-think]

Deserve Better

Pairing: Shang-Chi x fem!reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 2,200 +

Warnings: Angst; Alcohol; Mentions of sex

Request: yes

Prompt: Fluff

17: “I think I love you”

19: “It’s always been you.”

AN: I know it was under the fluff prompt, I don't know where the angst came from, it just happened and I'm sorry. There will be more fluff in my later requests though.

“Where the hell have you been, loca?” You and your best friend, Shang-Chi, said in unison right as you opened your apartment door. Humorous and wacky smiles on each of your faces.

Friday nights meant fun nights for the trio that was Shang-Chi, Katy, and you. So before every night out, the other two meet at your place to then head out together. This particular night, you all chose to head to a new bowling alley with plans to get just drunk enough to laugh at each other's horrendous bowling skills.

Shang-Chi got to your apartments 5 minutes after the said meet time, and Katy, as always, was likely to get there a little later. You let him into the apartment and Shang-Chi immediately walked up to your couch where your cat was anxiously waiting for him to pet her head.

“Hey, Penguin.” He greeted your cat with a soft and gooey voice as he stroked her head. Penguin responded by purring loudly and rubbing against him.

“At this point, she likes you more than me.” You chuckled as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well living with you is probably a mood killer.” He quipped.

“Excuse me, but I’m a great person to live with.” You defended, lightning punching his shoulder.

Shang-Chi looked at you with a raised eyebrow and then glanced at your unfinished dishes and haphazardly discarded shoes at the door. “I’m sure.”

You scoffed in fake offense and dramatically placed a hand on your chest.

“Your lack of faith in me is hurtful.” You said and then turned on your heels to pretend to look for something on your counter between the kitchen and living room. The reality was that you could feel your cheeks heat up as a scarlet blush crept up your face.

It was silly banter, but you’ve had a crush on your best friend for a while now. This banter, although normal, was making you a bit nervous and flustered. Making you do things like looking for things that don’t exist on your counter with little piles of mail, a cat lazer, a ceramic bowl in hair ties, and an incense burned with an already burned incense stick still standing in it.

“You might be able to find things better if you cleaned a bit,” Shang-Chi said, stepping up beside you and scanning your counter.

“Just looking for my keys.” You lied. You turned to fake search your tv stand.

“Have you checked your purse?” Your friend asked. Shang-Chi stepped over to grab your bag that was resting on your couch. And not a moment later, he pulled them out and jiggled them. “Found ‘em.”

“Thanks. I thought I took them out.” You said, giving him a thumbs up and stepping over to grab the keys and purse from his hands.

Then it felt a bit weird. When you went to grab your things, you stepped a bit too close. You could basically feel his body heat just from where you were standing. You tried to avoid eye contact, putting the keys back into their designated pocket.

And when you did look up, you locked eyes immediately. Neither one of you had anything to say so you just stood there. Your stomach did two backflips.

How can someone look so goddamn perfect? You asked yourself. No one looks this good from this close.

Before the air got any thicker between you two, the doorbell rang. It was about time Katy showed up.

You immediately went to get the door, praying to whatever god or gods were out there that your face wasn’t red.

“Okay, bitches, let’s get out of here.” Katy spent no time with a greeting. Instead, she was waving her hands to signal ‘out the door.’

You and Shang-Chi just shook your heads and laughed at her urgency for a fun time, and then proceeded to leave the apartment.

As the night went on, you and your friends gradually got more drunk. Your bowling was tragic to start with, but once you downed a few shots, oh boy. Katy was just as bad as you once she got in a few drinks too, but at least she had some more coordination. Shang-Chi, unlike the two of you, went from really good to decent. As in, his bad, drunken bowling skills were on par with your best efforts.

“Not fair.” You groaned as he got his first spare beginning your second round. “Not all of us were trained to be perfect.”

“Don’t complain just cause we’re the only ones with any sense of where the ball is supposed to go,” Katy says with a cocky tone, stepping up to the lane with a slight drunken wobble.

“She shooks one good arrow.” You mumble and shake your head.

“To be fair it was a good shot,” Shang-Chi said, sitting down beside you. And if it weren’t for her, your soul would have been eaten.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You two go on a journey to save the world. Leaving me here. In San Francisco. To go on a date with Chad.” You basically barfed the name.

“You did that to yourself, okay.” Your friend laughed, bumping his shoulder to yours.

“To be fair, we were talking about Fantasy High, he seemed decent!” You laughed along.

“Ahh yes. The way to Y/n’s heart. Nerdy DnD talk. Wasn’t that the main topic in your past two relationships?”

“Ugh.” You groaned and hid your face behind your hands. “God(s), I know that the men I seem to attract are trash, don’t remind me.”

“Simple solution. Just stop dating trash men.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

“Easier said than done.”

“Y/n, you deserve so much more than the dude who has you pay on the first date.”

You rest your head lazily on the back of the red, letter bowling couch and look over that the sincerity of your friend’s eyes. The lighting of the bowling alley was colorful. There were blues, reds, greens. The whole goddamn rainbow. A part of you wanted to lean up and kiss him at that moment. To tell him that the only guy you’d ever hope to ever deserve was him.

But you couldn’t. Not while he was your best friend. What if he didn’t feel the same way. It’d ruin things forever. And he has other things on his mind; the recent passing of his father, the ten rings that were sending some beacon. He was being integrated into a whole new world now and you didn’t know where you would even fit in it.

You sighed deeply and shrugged, not really sure how to respond to him. Luckily you didn’t have to dwell on it since Katy called her name to tell her it was her turn to go.

You gave Shang-Chi a flat smile and left your seat to continue the worst round of bowling in your life.

The bowling ended with Katy and Shang-Chi getting pretty decent scores and you, well, you were just lucky to hit more than half of the bowling bin on your shots.

The way back to your homes wasn’t terrible. You didn’t get drunk enough to not be able to get home. Maybe some stumbling here and there. You and Shang-Chi walked Katy home first, then it was off to your place.

The walk home wasn’t quiet or awkward. The conversation from earlier was hanging in the air, but you were trying to avoid any words that would remind you that the two of you could never be anything.

It was a nice walk. It was just cold enough to wear your jackets, but not that cold that you were shivering. Instead, the words exchanged with jokes, teasing, some gossip about Lizzo and Chris Evens (who you both agreed looked too much like Steve Rogers).

“Apparently, when she received her VMA, she was getting her back blown out.” You mentioned.

“Chris Evens?” He gasped.

“Maybe. He wasn’t there either.” You shrugged and pulled your lips into a gossiping smile.

The moment was good until the phone call. You’re eyebrows knit in confusion as you pulled your phone out of your back pocket. Who could possibly be calling at midnight? You checked the caller ID before answering and let out a short, amused laughed. It was Chad.

“Booty-call.” You said, showing Shang Chi the caller ID. He scoffed and shook his head. “Should I answer?” You weren’t sure why you were asking him? Maybe it was cause you wanted to test him. You wanted him to say no and confess that he wanted to be the caller you answered to. But if he said go for it, it would just serve as more proof that he was okay with you going out with other people.

Shang-Chi’s body tensed a bit and he stuck his hands in his jacket pockets.

“I thought the date was bad.” He shrugged.

“Well yeah, but I don’t know. Maybe I just expect too much.” Of the many dates you’ve been to, none of the guys have even made a good impression. Made you hung on too much to those first impressions. Your one boyfriend from when you were in college was alright, but even then, you two were too busy with classes you weren’t sure you even knew him.

“Well, what are you expecting then?” He asked, looking down at you while you stared straight down the sidewalk.

You, you wanted to say.

“I don’t know. Someone who pays attention to me.” You gave a half-bullshit answer.

“And you think midnight booty-calls is attention?” He wasn’t wrong, but the words felt like little paper cut covered in alcohol.

“Well, I’d rather be someone’s second thought instead of a last one.” You spat out. You could feel your chest starting to tighten up.

“What does that even mean?” Shang-Chi asked, clueless of your implication.

“It means that sometimes you just have to accept what you can get.” Fresh, salty tears started to build up in your eyes. “Because getting that you really want is not possible and I would just rather not get my hopes up.”

“Okay, first, slow down.” He grabs your wrist lightly, holding you back from crossing the street. The light other side had just turned to a red hand, making you two stuck in that corner. “Second, your confusing me. You accept shitty dude because you think you can’t get anything better?”

You sighed deeply. “I think I’m just kinda mad that I can’t have what I really want.”

“That’s mature.” Shang-Chi scoffed.

“I’m sorry, are you mad at me?” Now you were feeling annoyed.

“Yeah, I am. Because I’m tired of hearing about your bad dates. I don’t want to keep seeing you get hurt.” His brows furrowed. Shang-Chi hated seeing you so willing to settle for someone who didn’t care.

“And I’m tired of going on them.”

“Then don’t.”

“I can’t because I think I love you.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. You both froze, taking in what you just said. But you couldn’t take it back now. “It’s always been you, but you have your past and your future that, let’s be honest, I’m probably not going to be a part of. I guess complaining and focusing on other people let me forget about how much I… how much I like you.”

It was quiet again. Panic flooded you when Shang-Chi just stared at you blankly. The light of the red hand had turned into a white walking person again, but neither of you noticed. Your phone rang again. You picked it up, seeing Chad’s name again. You didn’t even realize that it stopped ringing earlier.

You didn’t know if you were going to pick it up this time. The masochistic part of yourself wanted to. But the choice was taken from you. Shang-Chi swiped your phone out of your hand and ended the call.

“Hey, wh-” Before you could get to reprimanding him for taking your phone, his hand cupped your face and he leaned in to kiss your lips. It was short and sweet. Soft and gentle. You didn’t have time to respond before he pulled away from you, hand still on your cheek.

“Sorry, I just figured-” This time you cut. Wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him back down to meet your lips. This time the both of you were responding. Still soft and sweet. Still holding your phone in your hand, Shang-Chi slipped it into your jeans back pocket and then slid his hand to rest on your waist.

When you two pulled away, you were sure that you were blushing heavily. Shang-Chi chuckled a bit and rubbed his thumb gently on your cheek.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” He admitted.

“I guess I haven’t made things any easier.” You said, thinking back on all the dates you’ve whined about.

“No, you haven’t. But I’m glad I did it now.”

You nodded in agreement and then remembered your worries. “Me too. There’s still the thing about your…” You thought about the right wording. “Superhero business.”

“Why don’t we worry about that later?” He suggested, pecking your lips and making you giggle.

At the moment, you weren't sure how you should feel. But you couldn’t help but feel glad that your feelings were reciprocated. The night was filled with kisses and some more laugher once you left your anxieties behind.

[p-antomime]

a biding vow of a broken fate.

— minors don't interact.

— wc: 4,1K

content + warnings: 18+, including: sadist!sukuna, a bit of angsty i guess, oral (male and female receiving), public sex (idk tbh), face fucking, manhandle, DP (kinda of i guess?), creampie, tummy bulge, dumbification, monster fucking, virginity loss, spitting, degradation, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, you have been warned, well...

pairings: real form!sukuna x virgin!fem!reader (yeah im talking about the feral sukuna)

— song: HWAA; by (G)I-DLE

— note: inspired by this kinky shit here.

— jjk masterlist.

— Miss, letters have arrived. — A servant of yours remarked as he ran down the corridor to reach the room in which Y/N was resting sitting on a large cushion padded to be warm enough to warm human skin even in the nastiest of winters.

— How many? — Y/N asked only the quantity because she knew where they were coming from.

— Three, miss. — The short, gentle man bowed briefly to his mistress and stretched out both arms whose hands were holding three envelopes, all with the same crimson red seal.

— Thank you, darling. — You lifted your arms lazily and took the envelopes.

They were letters from generals stationed in strategic camps throughout most of Japan. Y/N had already read about forty-seven of them, but only complied with the request for about 13 of them. The reality was that the jujutsu sorcerers wanted to stay out of the direct clash of that war against only one beast. No happy or glorious fate awaited her on the battlefield: there was no room for women leading hordes of shamans, and should she be caught by one of the four arms of the freak of nature on the other side of the war, she would probably either become food or suffer a far more painful course than a quick death. So it was preferable to stay away, only getting involved in the tactical part when it was convenient.

It was already winter, so that was all the more reason not to venture outside the walls of your home. As if Japan was in the height of winter, although it was only the beginning of it, time seemed to have frozen into a vicious circle where Ryomen Sukuna was spreading his destruction over any piece of land that came into his field of vision. It seemed that the world had not only been forgotten by God, but had also been left behind by the cruel winter wind. It was as if the darkness of despair was swallowing everyone up little by little and getting thicker and thicker.

— Pathetic. — Y/N whispered to herself as her eyes wandered over the contents of the letters, if she tried hard she could taste the bitter taste of despair dripping off those pages.

In reality, you were extremely skeptical about the end of the war. It was hard to believe in a happy fate when the only news that existed was discouraging, as if the world was stuck in an endless season of no real good promises. Your heart was covered with the purest snow of despondency. For you, it was only a matter of time before Sukuna annihilated all the jujutsu sorcerers who were against him, and who knows, maybe he would give you a dose of mercy if he knew about the cursed spirit trapped inside you from when you were little.

— They want strategic help and offer me nothing in return? What kind of woman do they think I am? — You grumbled, throwing the letters on the small table in front of you.

Then you looked out the large diagonal window and stared at the horizon beyond the walls of your house that was now also your personal fortress. White, pure snow, pristine; extremely different from the bloodstained battlefield that Y/N once had to visit to chart the next steps of those who stood against Sukuna. Perhaps if all the memories of the war field turned to ashes and you acted as if those memories had not left a mark on your soul, who knows, you might continue living as if someday one of the four arms of that beast was not going to be around your neck ready to break it.

A thought crossed her mind: what if it were possible to negotiate a trip to lands far away from that war-scarred Japan in exchange for a tactical plan good enough just to contain Sukuna for a few months? Then you wouldn't have to live constantly wondering if that day was your last day living and breathing normally. Your lips opened and from deep in your throat emerged a call loud enough for most of your servants to hear, and those who didn't, would surely follow those with acute hearing in the direction of the room you were in. It didn't take long for about 34 people of different ages and statures to stand in front of you.

— Pack up my things, pack up everything. — You rose from your comfortable cushion and looked at them intently. — Make sure you get my warmest clothes and also all the plans and maps I have drawn up so far. And do me the favor and do it quickly, we have no time to lose. Every second that passes is equivalent to several liters of blood being spilled.

— Should I ask where you are going, Miss?

— I'm going to hold the reins of a broken fate, of course. — You answered simply.

The next three days that followed consisted basically of you passing through several provinces until you reached the strategic camp closest to your fortress. It was hard to watch four of your servants almost die of hypothermia to get you to your final destination, but it was necessary. In a few days, maybe weeks, you and they and all the other 30 who stayed behind would be free of that bloodshed. Ends usually justify the means.

— Here is fine. — You said after getting down from your carriage and placing your feet on the snow-covered ground.

Your scarlet red uchikake stood out from the rest of the purely white landscape, and this was precisely the intention: you wanted to be noticed by those men so that they would know that their victory depended on how willing you were to help them.

— If possible, wait for me inside the carriage. You've been cold enough as it is, when I've finished arranging everything with those disgusting men, I'll come back here and take you to where I'll be staying, understand? — The servants nodded positively in silence. — Good. — Y/N allowed herself a gentle smile for them.

The hours that passed served both for new information about the distinct situations and numbers of the war to be passed on to Y/N and for her to begin to draw up new plans of tactics taking into consideration all the various others she had already made, planned and organized in previous months. At the end of the short "meeting", they ended up placing you in a lodge further away from the others and closer to the escape routes from the provisional camp because you were automatically placed in a delicate and important position since you were now a vital point of more than half of the strategies discussed minutes before.

Moreover, Y/N had made it clear that he was only going to draw up new plans for the next four moons and after that she would be leaving those lands with his servants for any other safer territory. However, the tactics left by her, besides fulfilling the goal of defeating Sukuna (even if momentarily), were all interconnected so that they would work out well and, consequently, mitigate the losses of the "human" side of the war. For you, it was only fair that they let you opt out of that sea of blood after you had worked so hard to keep their asses safe.

— Miss, I have heard that there are speculations that Sukuna is indeed approaching from the west. — One of her servants who was now combing her hair said.

Y/N arched one eyebrow in disbelief. There was no way this could be true, the generals had told her. But if it were, it would require changing about 5 of all the maps she had drawn.

— Heard from whom?

— That's what they talk about in the barracks, Landlady.

— So it's gossip. — You concluded by looking disinterestedly at your servant and internally wondering if you should take into account the possibility of starting to plot other tactics. — I doubt that he chose to attack precisely the route where we have the most jujutsu sorcerers operating.

— I don't understand war strategies, miss, you are the most competent in the subject, but if he ever managed to attack the West, wouldn't it be a great loss? — Her eyebrows furrowed in displeasure.

— Are you implying that they withheld information from me?

— Or maybe they just withheld it temporarily until they had concrete proof that, in fact, Sukuna is coming from the West.

— He could not... defeat so many jujutsu sorcerers at the same time. That is humanly impossible.

— He is not human, miss. Our parameters do not apply to him. — The servant replied as he finished tidying his mistress's hair into a simple updo.

And for the rest of the day, Y/N could think of nothing but that sinister possibility. As night fell, her eyes passed frantically over the entire camp area almost obsessively. It was as if at any moment the bestial figure of Sukuna would emerge from somewhere, and because of this, she couldn't sleep that night. As if the spirits of the jujutsu sorcerers who had been killed earlier were whispering to her to stay awake, because then it would be easier for her to get away or, as a last resort, to have to enjoy using her cursed technique in exchange for a few months of your life. That was the price for each half hour of using the cursed power of the spirit attached to her soul: 30 minutes of power in exchange for 3 months taken from your total life. And that's why you avoided using your cursed technique, it was hard enough to live being a woman in these hostile times and you certainly wouldn't make it past 30, so not using this cruel power was a matter of survival.

As the hours passed, slowly Y/N ended up being the only person awake. She was the only one left standing in her long traditional red uchikake style dress surrounded by white snow and orange and yellow lamps all around her illuminating the deserted path in front of her. She had been so immersed in thought that she had already crossed the camp completely once, from end to end, and now her feet were beginning to ache and get cold, despite the thick socks she was wearing.

And then suddenly the sound of a solitary drop falling to the ground reached Y/N's ears and in the blink of an eye the landscape previously showing only piles of snow and several hastily made lodgings was replaced by a huge Buddhist shrine decorated with skulls, where once there was white snow now there was black water that glistened all around. Your breath caught in your throat and instinctively you turned back to run back towards your lodging in the vague and mistaken idea of that domain expansion not reaching the escape routes. Your mistake of thinking that your lodge would be in the same place as before, in its place there was now a large throne of bones placed on top of several other bones. The King of Curses sat with a cocky smile permeating his lips in the middle of that very throne.

Before you even put your hands together to recite the incantation that would release your cursed technique, Sukuna let out a loud laugh as if he were being challenged by a mere defenseless kitten whose greatest damage might be a few minor scratches. And truth be told: you were scared to death. That beast's torso and shoulders adorned with black markings never looked so mortifying, and his four arms looked ready to snap you in half.

— I expected you to be more intelligent, human, considering that they call you "The best strategist in the Land of the Rising Sun". — A mocking laugh escaped his lips as his four eyes analyzed the helpless figure dressed in head to toe red in front of him. — I could cut you into several pieces in seconds, but instead I decided to leave you alive for now and this is how you thank me? Pathetic. — Sukuna's arrogant voice accompanied him as his massive body rose from its throne and walked towards him.

Instinctively, Y/N resumed her focus on the incantation she had begun seconds earlier, and it wasn't long before she felt something rough wrap itself around her neck. Pulling your own body back, you tried to quickly lift one of your legs in one of the few close-range fighting moves you knew to kick the curse’s arm away, but as a result, Sukuna just shoved you mercilessly against some bones that adorned his throne. Your body slammed against those hard, rough objects and immediately fell to the damp floor of the innate domain.

You had the impression that blood was about to spill from your lips, but it seemed that the blow was only enough to leave purple marks in the area of your ribs. Apparently the bundle of clothes you were wearing cushioned that "fall".

— Dumb whore. — Sukuna commented as he walked towards her and leaned over to put one of his hands on the girl's chin and lift her face in order to make her look him directly in the eyes. — Know your fucking place, woman. — His fingers tightened on her face until she had the impression that he was going to break her jaw. — Try anything stupid like that again and I'll break you in half. Feel grateful that I didn't kill you like I'm going to do to all those pathetic humans in the war camp, feel graced with my mercy. The mercy of your new God. — He flashed a cruel smile and Y/N tried to wriggle out of his grip on her chin. — I have a great proposal for you, human.

Sukuna turned away gradually and sat back down on his throne.

— You should know better than anyone that at the end of this war, I will be the winner. The consecutive defeats of you, human bugs, have made that very evident. — Y/N took advantage of the cursed spirit's sudden withdrawal to slowly stand up, hearing something inside his ribs make a low crack. — But I want a massive defeat. A defeat so bloody that it will make even the bravest jujutsu sorcerer who comes into being subsequent to my victory tremble before me. And who better to save me the trouble of having to organize a series of precise attacks than the best strategist alive today? — Glancing at him, you watched a falsely gentle smile open up on his face.

Knowing that it was impossible to beat him by force, Y/N began to organize her thoughts and came to the conclusion that trying to negotiate was the best way out at the moment.

— I don't draw up plans to kill innocents. — It was the only thing his parched throat could spit out using his tired vocal cords.

— I bet you can if you put just a little effort into it, you pathetic woman. — Sukuna stood up and calmly walked back towards the girl, and then he began to circle her as if he were a predator about to devour his sometimes tastiest prey. — Especially if your life is at stake, no?

You didn't know if he was bluffing or not. It was a game of wits that your tired mind was not willing to enter at the moment.

— If I help you... — Y/N could feel his warm, serene breath close to her neck, as if he was deliberately daring her to finish the sentence. — Would you let me live? — Her head was down, she didn't have the courage to turn to face the King of Curses.

— Would you give me your blind loyalty? Would you give me the last effort of your soul?

— I cannot promise loyalty without knowing that you will not kill me after using me and my war tactics. — Her voice was now little more than a whisper.

— So I offer you a binding vow with me, where I promise not to kill you even after I have already used all your knowledge of war strategy, and in return you promise not to betray me under any circumstances and give me your all. Everything, no exceptions. Your intelligence, your soul, your life purpose, your body. Every single thing.

It was not a fair exchange, but it was necessary for Y/N to trust that the remaining jujutsu sorcerers would be able to defeat Sukuna and at some point in the rest of her life, she would be free of that binding vow.

— I accept. — You said and watched him stand in front of you, instantly feeling helpless against his enormous height.

Again, one of Sukuna's hands was placed on your chin, and he lifted your head.

— Then prove your complete loyalty to me, woman.

— W-What? — Her eyes inevitably widened and a disinterested expression appeared on Sukuna's face, and he turned away and sat back on his cadaverous throne.

After that, he raised his index and middle fingers and suggestively moved them in her direction.

— You are a young woman who certainly understands about proving your loyalty to a man, don't you? Now, come here. Don't make me repeat myself. — Her feet moved toward him and began to climb up among the bones that decorated that throne.

Two of Sukuna's arms began to undress the frail female body in front of him while the other two began to explore that same body greedily and unkindly. He wanted her all to destroy her completely. He wanted to be the only thing permeating your mind until he told you to focus on your job as his strategist. He wanted to commit all kinds of immorality with you until you couldn't take it anymore, and you broke down in tears.

He made use of his four arms to first throw your clothes toward the damp floor of his domain, slowly spread your legs, position you over the warm wet tongue that opened almost in the middle of his abdomen, and give your ass a squeeze that would definitely leave marks behind. Y/N's small hands compared to the King of Curses' massive body rested on his broad shoulders and she couldn't help but let her head fall back trying not to let the moans escape her throat when she felt the tip of that abnormal tongue lick between the lips of her pussy. "Shit, this shouldn't turn me on so much, it shouldn't feel this good...", you thought as you forced your own hips against the tongue that licked your thighs and intimacy to get some more of that intoxicating pleasure.

You literally could not remember when had been the last time you had been touched so intimately by a man because that memory simply did not exist. The most that had been inside you were your fingers, which were far less thick and long than Sukuna's. Because of the lack of experiencing pure, carnal, fluid pleasure, you desperately rubbed your pelvis against his tongue. You were so focused on moving against that part of his body that you didn't even notice one of his arms sneaking up your thighs and nimbly rubbing your clit before began to make circular motions in it. His other arms were busy squeezing her waist, playing with your breasts, or leaving possessive marks around your neck and collarbone.

But then, just when erotically loud moans were escaping from the bottom of your throat without the least bit of shame, and you were feeling your body as hot as if it was about to explode and a knot of pleasure making itself present in the bottom of your abdomen, Sukuna stopped stimulating you. Suddenly. Cruelly. And when you tried to continue moving your hips against his tongue, he simply held your waist tightly to limit your movements and spoke in a harsh tone:

— On your knees, stupid woman. — He stood up slightly to disentangle himself from the long kimono covering his body and after undressing, was amused to see her startled face as she found herself staring at his two cocks. — Don't you dare say it won't fit, I know it will. — One of his hands grabbed Y/N's hair and pulled her face closer to his two members. — Open your mouth, slut. Easy, isn't it?

In reality, it wasn't easy at all when you had Sukuna fucking your face at a rapid pace with saliva dripping down your lips as he alternated between making you pay attention to each of his dicks. However, just as tears began to form in the corner of your eyes, he seemed to increase the force used to thrust his hips against your face, which made you choke several times in a row and turn him on even more.

— What a useful toy you are. Maybe I'll have some use for you in mind after this war is over. — He said, leaning toward you and pulling out of your mouth. — Keep your mouth open. - You obeyed and watched him spit into your mouth. — Don't you dare even think about not swallowing, you dirty whore. — Sukuna pulled your body up so that you were sitting on his lap with your back to him.

While two of his arms held you in place, the other two ventured between your legs and began to reach inside your pussy to use their fingers to widen it and dangerously rub close to your ass.

— N-Not there. — Y/N tried to grab the wrist of his hand that was sneaking up her ass and in retaliation Sukuna sank his teeth into one of her shoulders hard enough to draw just a little blood.

— Don't try to fight me, you are in no position to try to do that. Put yourself in your place, you idiot. — After he finished speaking, Sukuna also ended up invading her even tighter inside than her pussy.

The more he moved, differently from what you initially expected, the painful and uncomfortable sensation became more and more pleasurable, and then you felt embarrassed that you were rolling over and down against his fingers. But, just as before, Sukuna stopped moving inside you and withdrew his fingers, and you couldn't stop the tears from streaming down your cheeks. Literally the only thing on your mind was to reach that peak of pleasure you had never felt before, it was the only thing you needed at that moment. Y/N felt one of the King of Curses' hands grip her chin and tilt her body until her face could see her reflection in the dark water on the floor of his domain:

— Look at you, being destroyed by the same curse that hours ago you were working to destroy. — Her cheeks heated as more tears fell down her cheeks and her pussy contracted in a silent plea for Sukuna to fill it again. — How does it feel to see yourself like this, hmm? Seeing yourself helpless, totally at my mercy? — You knew that if he didn't get an answer, you would probably continue to deny your orgasm so you struggled to answer.

— I feel... dirty... — Her eyes kept staring at her crying face reflected in the water. — And so good. P-Please, I need to cum.

— Then make yourself cum on my cocks, woman. — That was all the permission you needed to lean your back against his broad chest and put a cock in each hole slowly with your head falling back to rest against one of his shoulders and moans coming from your lips from the sudden enlargement.

Y/N began a slow rhythm that made her eyes roll in delight at the repetitive sensation of feeling Sukuna widening her to the point where she could see him slightly deforming her belly, but the curse suddenly arched his hips upward hard in a violent thrust and seeing the girl vocalize a hoarse moan of pleasure louder than the previous ones, he grabbed her waist and began thrusting rapidly against her. The only sounds echoing through the huge space of Sukuna's domain were the grunts of him hallucinating with pleasure having that girl squeezing his cock, her uncontrolled moans, and the erotic sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

Your orgasm didn't take long to come and you couldn't be more internally fulfilled to finally have all those spasms of pleasure making your legs tremble, to have that overwhelming pleasure taking over your whole body. After several denials from Sukuna, you were finally reaching that carnal ecstasy that you didn't know you needed to taste until that curse gave you a taste of it. Even after you had cum, the King of Curses continued thrusting himself into your pussy and ass until he filled them completely with cum and gifted you with the wonderful sensation of feeling completely full.

— What a wonderful toy you are, human. — A wide smile filled with malice and lust opened on his lips. — I will certainly make the most of our biding vow.

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[turtle-steverogers]

hii, it's the unsent project anon again!! sometimes i think about steve. instead of going back in time for yk, he goes back in time to see his mother again. and has a dance with his mother because he never got to before for several reasons. it would be more rocking from foot to foot than anything else. and steve can barely see through his clumped up lashes from the tears while she strokes the side of his head before cradling it (its a bit of a stretch because he is all big and healthy now) while muttering, "my stevie, my boy" and steve just grins "it's me, ma".

(he would come back after spending some time with her, with a heavy heart but still)

was thinking about this at like 3 in the morning

anon i genuinely think you're trying to murder me lakjdflksjfaskdjflksf

anyway i wrote another fic

-

There are extra white jackets in the back closet, and Steve steals one that’s approximately his size, despite the shoulders being a bit too tight. Pants are a little harder to come by, but he manages to find a pair that look like they’ll fit him in some poor chap’s locker. He tugs them on, grimacing at the way they hug his thighs and fall only to his ankles. They’ll have to do.

He’d already scoped out the hospital the night before-- he knows she’s on the third floor in a private ward. Good, he thinks. She deserves it, if nothing else.

He is focused as he moves through the halls, head down as he passes other nurses. There’s a clipboard discarded on a table near the children’s ward and he swiftly picks it up, squinting at it. He doesn’t process any of the words on the page, but his act seems sound, because nobody stops him.

He makes it to the stairwell at the end of the hall, pushes open the door and takes the steps two at a time. The smell is one that is achingly familiar-- the walls grey and hazy. The air seems thicker, the lights yellow and dim. And though he’s been removed from the past for over a decade, it still feels like home. Like normal. His normal.

But he does not belong anymore, and he will not stay. He’s already been a ghost once. He’s hesitant to be one again.

Especially now, when he is out there somewhere. Most likely in the shitty tenement he shared with Bucky, but also possibly at the grocer he worked at, his ma’s telegram in his pocket. Savoring the bits of her that he could salvage with the knowledge he’d never see her again, even while she’s alive.

Closure has been something Steve always felt he lacked. But he’s seen hell now-- lived in its fiery pits for more years than he can count. He can take some goddamn closure for himself.

The third floor is nearly vacant. No one is in the hallway when Steve steps out of the stairwell, but he can hear voices in the rooms that line the sides. Coughs echo ominously off the walls, and Steve’s toes curl in his shoes, a brief wave of anxiety washing over him. He hadn’t missed these hospitals, and he’d hoped to never deliberately step foot in one again. But this is necessary. This is worth it.

He walks swiftly towards the end of the hall where the private wards are and stops in front of the first room. The name next to the door is incorrect, so he continues on until he sees it, heart stopping in his chest, then speeding up enough to make his lungs tighten.

Sarah Rogers-- TB. Alternative uniform required.

Steve closes his eyes against the blood rushing from his head. He wants to tell himself it’s been so long since he’s felt this detached from reality-- this out of place in a space that should feel so familiar-- but it hasn’t. The feeling, he’s realizing, never truly left him when he woke up from the ice, and the reverse here is strange.

And there’s something even stranger about reconciling this, because he’d lost his ma far before he’d ever died. This grief is an old wound-- one that’s scabbed over only to bleed circumstantially. He’d grown used to living with this particular, bone deep pain. He isn’t sure if he’s here to lance that, or if he’ll walk away with a deeper wound. He isn’t sure it matters, either.

He pushes open the door.

The room is lit with natural light. There is a desk with a vase and a water pitcher on it, along with a few medicine bottles and a tissue box. The bed is pressed against the far wall, the covers barely disturbed save for the frail figure that lies in it.

Sarah turns her head and looks at Steve.

Steve’s world stops.

He hadn’t seen his ma when she was this ill. His last memories of her are of when she was healthy-- cheeks red and full of life, eyes alight with an optimism he still valiantly tries to uphold. Life had not been kind to Sarah Rogers, but she was the kindest soul Steve had ever known, even in the shadow of his father’s violence.

Is, he corrects himself as he looks at her. She is the kindest soul. She’s there. She’s right there.

She’s right there, and she looks weak. She is gaunt and frail, eyes sunken in and cheekbones sharp against papery looking skin. There’s an exhaustion in the lines of her young face that Steve recognizes as the long standing effects of illness-- your body praying to be done fighting while your mind begs otherwise.

Steve resists the urge to turn and run.

Sarah’s face does something strange as she looks at Steve, and he realizes that he’s been standing there for longer than would be normal for a nurse-- shell shocked and silent. She opens her mouth to say something, then stops, eyes widening as she seems to process what she’s looking at. Or who she’s looking at, most likely.

A wizened hand comes up to cover her mouth and she gasps, fear flashing through her eyes and no, no, no--

Fuck, he’d thought of this. He’d had a fucking plan for this, but he can’t remember it now and he really doesn’t want his ma calling security on him, because he has so much to say, and--

“Ma,” he says frantically, taking an aborted step forward. She shies away and he stops, hands flexing at his sides. “Ma, it’s me. I swear it’s me, I can explain.”

Sarah looks suddenly furious. “This is not funny, young man. I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave this instant.”

Fuck, her voice. Her goddamn voice, as weak as it is now, still has the same strong cadence. The subtle Irish twang. And fuck, Steve can’t help it. He bursts into tears.

“Fuck,” he says, falling to his knees. Why did he think he could do this? Why did he think he could stomach the weight of everything that’s happened since he last saw her-- handle standing in front of her with blood on his hands, underneath his fingernails. In his goddamn soul. What would she even think of him now?

He sobs, biting down on a knuckle to keep silent, his other arm going around his stomach. It’s how he used to cry when he was much younger, and more frantic, and that seems to convince Sarah more than anything.

“Steven?” she says. She sounds incredulous. Damnit, she probably thinks she’s hallucinating. Steve had hallucinated a couple times when he was ill enough and his fever was high. Mostly his father, but he’ll digress.

He looks up, and he can barely see her through the tears that clump on his eyelashes. Sarah’s face does something complicated, then softens, and she reaches out a hand. Steve looks at it and sobs harder.

“Oh, Stevie. My boy, come here,” she says, because maybe he is a goddamn hallucination, but her instinct was always to comfort those in pain. She was a nurse, after all.

Steve is goddamn helpless.

He manages to get to her bedside, chest heaving as he buries his face in her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “It’s me, ma. I promise it’s me. I can explain, I swear.”

“I don’t doubt that you can explain,” Sarah says sternly, and fuck, he’d missed her chastising him. He can’t help it, he laughs, breathless and watery. “What happened to you? Why are you--” Big. Healthy. “Steven, you can’t be in here. I’m highly contagious.”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t matter. I can’t get sick.” And oh, his accent is back. He hasn’t had one in years. Decades. A goddamn century.

Sarah lets out a strangled laugh that quickly turns into coughing, and Steve briefly wonders how close she is to death. She died in Winter, and it is sometime in Fall right now. Close then, he thinks. He hugs her harder as the coughing dies down.

“A stór, do you hear yourself? You had pneumonia last Summer.”

Summer. Last Summer. In this world, it had only been a mere few months without her. A fresh wave of grief washes over Steve, and then he can’t help another laugh, then another, and suddenly he’s cracking up into her stomach. Laughing like the insane man he feels he often is.

Sarah freezes, then reaches out to lift his face, their eyes meeting. His laughing stops. She gasps again.

“It really is you,” she murmurs, thumbs moving to the outside corners of his eyes, where there are two identical freckles. Little stars, she used to call them.

Steve offers her a brave smile. “Yeah, ma. It is.”

Sarah shakes her head. “What happened?” she asks again.

“I… so much,” Steve breathes. “I don’t know how to explain it all. I-- I don’t know where to start, but god, I just wanted to see you. I needed to see you.”

Sarah studies his face. “You’re so tired,” she says, thumb stroking his eye again. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes. His lip trembles.

“So tired,” he agrees.

“You don’t need to tell me everything,” Sarah says. “I’m not sure I want to know. But I just… Steven, you look so different.”

Steve laughs, wiping at his eyes. “In a few years, there’s a war,” he says. Blunt-- they’d always been so straightforward with each other. “A scientist-- god, please don’t be mad-- a scientist offered, or… offers? Offered me an opportunity, and I took it.”

“Of course you did,” Sarah murmurs, looking fond and angry despite. She seems to set that train of thought aside. “Germany?” and oh, right. It’s already been in the news, the new reign.

“Yeah.”

Sarah hums. “My dear, you look like you’ve seen more than just war.”

Just war. As if any war was just anything.

As if his war ever truly stopped.

He casts his gaze down.

“Yeah,” he says again, and he thinks of Bucky, who’s also yet to come home from the war. Bucky, who is probably somewhere at the docks right now, untouched by anything but insecurity and financial hell. He desperately wishes they both can soon. This visit, he hopes, will bring him one step closer.

Sarah must read his mind, because her face clouds over.

“Bucky…?”

“Survives,” Steve says quickly, then backtracks. “Kind of. We both kind of died, then came back to life in the future and--” Sarah looks horrified now, and Steve shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s alive. We’re together.”

“Alright,” Sarah says slowly. “As long as you’re together.”

Steve nods, and fuck, he wishes he could have brought Bucky, too. Sam as well-- showed his ma his new friends. The brave new family he’s made for himself. The thought has his eyes swimming again, and he screws up his face, trying not to cry. He’s a goddamn mess. It’s ridiculous.

“I must admit, I’m quite confused,” Sarah says. “And sweetheart, you’re not talking.”

Steve shakes his head, and her arms come around him. He melts into the hold-- savors the feeling. Memorizes the pressure, her smell, and pockets it away for later.

“I just missed you so much is all,” he croaks. “And I-- ma… I’ve done so much. I’ve hurt so many people. Killed so many people, and I still feel so lost, and everything hurts and oh Christ, I’ve just-- I miss you.”

He had sworn to himself, before coming in, that he wouldn’t unload any of this onto her. But her warmth is all encompassing, and he craves her comfort. Her approval. Her strong, sure tone telling him everything will be okay.

That he will be okay. He has to be. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s not.

“Lord’s name,” Sarah murmurs, and Steve huffs another laugh. She runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know how any of this is possible, but I do know you, dearheart. And I know that you are a good person. A gentle person-- my gentle boy, if you’d had a choice, you wouldn’t have chosen violence. But you know more than anyone how mean the world can be. You might have had to make hard decisions, done bad things, but you, Steven, are not bad.”

Steve’s lips part. It doesn’t fix everything, the words-- it barely scrapes the surface of the wall of pain and guilt that suffocates him. But for a moment, the world seems clearer. Quieter. The ache in his chest lanced for one, freeing breath.

“Ma…” Steve says. He doesn’t know how to thank her-- what to say-- because here she is, offering him warmth and closure, even though she might still think he’s nothing but a figment of her imagination. He craves her compassion; her generosity. Swears to uphold it as best he can.

You always stand up, she once told him. He will still, he thinks. He always will. And he will now.

He’ll go home to his family-- his life-- and goddamn live finally. He’s been surviving for so long, he realizes. It’s about damn time for him to stand up and live.

“You’ve still got the same heart,” Sarah continues. She pokes his freckles again. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Steve lifts a hand to cover hers. Her hands are as soft as they always were and he turns his face to kiss her knuckles, then leans forward to kiss her cheek, eyes closing as memories of doing that before running off to school or to play flash through his mind. She smells faintly of vanilla. He wonders if she still dabs it behind her ears.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, ma. I love you. I love you so much-- thank you for being there for me. For raising me, and loving me.”

Sarah hugs him. Outside the room, there are voices; shuffling. He needs to go. The window is open, and they’re only three floors up.

“Loving you is the easiest thing that I’ve ever done,” Sarah says. She looks at the door. The voices are closer now. She kisses his forehead. Another echo of a life long gone. “Go now, Steven. Go home.”

Steve looks at her one last time, drinking in the love in her eyes. And as he climbs out the window, the too-tight doctor’s coat ripping around the shoulder seams, he can’t help but think that he’d gotten her eyes right whenever he’d painted her.

Her love won’t be something so easily forgotten.

-

Bucky catches him before he can collapse as he reappears on the launch pad. He lowers them to the ground, cradling Steve’s head with and letting him practically climb into his lap as he weeps, overwhelmed.

After a few minutes, he pulls back. Bucky’s watching him, concerned, and Steve leans in to gently kiss him.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, wary as they pull apart. He reaches out to swipe some tears off Steve’s cheeks.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” he says. “All the stones are back-- everything’s okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

Relief washes over Bucky’s face and he kisses Steve, smiling. “Oh god,” he murmurs. “Thank god.”

Steve wraps his arms around his neck, humming in agreement. Sam and Bruce are somewhere-- Steve can hear them talking-- but it’s distant.

They’re quiet for a long time, breathing in each other. Bucky’s arms feel so goddamn safe that Steve feels his resolve slipping again. He can tell Bucky things. He can be here with him now. Home.

“I went to see her,” he whispers.

Bucky stills where he was previously rocking them lightly.

“Her…” Bucky says, then shifts. “Your ma?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Bucky squeezes him tighter. “How-- how was that? How did she…”

“She was confused. I don’t even know if she knew I was real.”

Bucky pauses, then kisses behind his ear. Steve thinks of vanilla again.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs.

“No, it was-- good. Needed. I feel… good.”

“That’s so good, honey.”

“She asked about you-- wanted to know if you were, um, alive. I told her you were.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, and there’s a small smile on his face now. Bucky had loved Sarah as if she were another mother, and Steve had done the same with Winnifred. It was a privilege to have had both of their protective arms. “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘as long as we’re together’.”

Bucky smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Steve wants to reach out and touch, so he does, because he can do that now. Bucky is tangible. He is here.

“She’s got a point,” Bucky says. He goes back to rocking them and Steve rests his head on his shoulder. He hears Bucky start to say something, then stop.

“What?” he asks, pulling back.

Bucky studies him. “Did you want to stay?” It isn’t accusatory, just curious, and Steve considers it.

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Just… instinctively. It’s an opportunity I might have taken up if someone offered it ten years ago, but… I’m a ghost there now, like I was a ghost here, and I don’t want to do that again.” He bites his lip, shaking his head. “I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to.”

Bucky nods, cupping Steve’s cheek and thumbing his jaw affectionately. “I hear you,” he says. “I was just wondering.”

“And besides, my ma told me to go home before I left,” Steve said, cupping Bucky’s cheek in return. “So I did.”

Bucky smiles, and presses their foreheads together.

“We can do that now,” Bucky says. “We can go home. We can rest.”

And there are still things to do-- Steve doesn’t think there ever won’t be things to be done. But that can wait for another day.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He’s grungy, dirt digging in bone deep from the whirlwind of the last few weeks. He smirks, climbing off Bucky’s lap. “But I call first shower.”

Bucky snorts and stands, pulling Steve up.

“Yeah, whatever, asshole.”

Yeah. The world can wait another day.

-

There’s a bottle of vanilla in the spice cabinet. Steve sees it as he’s looking for the cinnamon. The kitchen is empty, but for the first time in years, he knows he’s not alone.

He takes the vanilla out and dabs some onto his fingers, gently rubbing it behind his ears. He closes his eyes, letting the smell wash over him. He can still feel his ma’s arms around him, keeping him warm.

Home. He’s home.

-

thanks for reading yall aflkdjflaksjdf

[parkers-gal]

Hey lovie, so Idk if you take requests but based on the other fic I read about Harrison having a baby sister and the boys talking behind her back can you write something about reader keeping her boyfriend a secret from the boys and she’s out with some friends and Harry sees the friends insta story and seeing reader in the corner on a boys lap and they Drive as fast a possible to the location to get haz babysister and being all protective around her like „what do you do on a random boys lap?“ and she’s like „uh, he’s my boyfriend.“

combing this with another request, hope u don’t mind :)

Hey! I've just read circles before selves and I loved it so much!! 😔 if you feel like it fits, could you write a part 2 where one of the boys has feelings for yn and really missed her during that time? Really angst? Thanks, bby! ❤❤

wc: 1.7 k

—

Through the week you’d ghosted the four of them, Tom had probably been affected the most. Being your brother’s best friend, he was very much intertwined with your life, which meant he was just as dependent on you as he was on Harrison.

The night after their apology in your apartment, Tom had come over with more take out and one of his hoodies on his arm.

“Hey… Tom?” You were surprised by his presence, standing in the doorway of the front entrance, Tom on your patio. “What’s up?”

“Can I- uh… Can I talk to you?” “Sure…” You’re still confused, but nevertheless, open the door wider for him.

Tom has always been your protector in a different way than Harrison’s ‘older-brother protective mode.’ He’s genuinely cared about your well-being, and tended to keep you out of the public’s eyes despite you not being a celebrity. He was there when you needed a ride home in the rain, and he was there when your ex-boyfriend had cheated on you with your best friend. He was there, angrily, supportively, encouragingly. Sure, he gave you butterflies, but you as another rule of the circle goes, siblings are off limits. Nobody had ever broken the rule, and you suspected Tom wasn’t here to break it either, so you dropped the thoughts from your mind, attention resorting back to the brunette in front of you.

“What’s happening?” You’re awkwardly sitting on the couch beside him until the tension fades away into nothingness. It’s never like this between the two of you, but you’re picking apart the context, pointing out in your head his demeanor — and why this time feels different.

“I, erhm,” He clears his throat. “I really missed you those past two weeks.”

“Aww,” You jutt a lip out, assuming that’s all he’s here for. Restoring those lost cuddles, huh? “I really missed you, too.” “That’s… not exactly what I mean.”

“Okay…” You lean back a bit in defeat. “What do you mean, then?”

“I mean… I’ve had feelings for you for a while.” He’s blushing profusely, scratching the back of his neck out of nervousness. Your eyes widen and he’s quick to continue, not wanting to shock you too much. “And- And I know it’s so fucking cliche — your brother’s best friend likes you — and I know that we have that stupid rule about not going out with your best friend’s siblings but I just… I don’t want to go away on- on… business or something and come back and you’re somebody else’s girl.”

You can’t help but let a grin take over your face. You can feel yourself heating up, hands coming to block your face from his view, trying to save your dignity and keep the embarrassment to a minimum despite him spilling his heart out right in front of you.

“Do… do you feel the same way?” You bite your lip before picking your head up. He’s so innocent — so sweet and so gentle and tender and pure with his words — and the glint of hope in his eyes could make your heart burst. It doesn’t, but instead flutters faster, wings flapping as it prepares to take flight. You’re afraid of where it’s going, but you decide to let it fly right in the hands of the boy standing in front of you.

“I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way.” You confess it sheepishly. Tom’s quick to grow redder, ears turning a scarlet shade.

“The- the same way?”

“Yeah,” You breathe out a laugh. “I have feelings for you, too.” “That’s…” He trails off with a smile before remembering the hoodie he has in his hands. “Do you, uh- do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He holds the article of clothing out as an offer, widening your grin as you stand with a nod. “Yeah,” You take the hoodie from him, slipping it on smoothly. His smirk grows at the sight of you in his clothing. “You’ll be my boyfriend?”

He rolls his eyes jokingly, laughing with a happy smile. “Yeah.”

That is how you ended up here, at a bar with a few of your friends. Aisha and her girlfriend sit on your right — you’re on the inside of the crowded booth, sitting atop Tom’s lap to save space and to nuzzle closer to him. He’d told his brothers and yours that he was going up north to Manchester for the weekend.

In reality, he was secretly staying in your apartment, which was a few miles from the flat he shared with Harrison and the twins. The two of you were downtown right now, dressed for clubbing despite only downing a few shots. He’s dressed a bit differently than from his normal ‘clubbing’ outfits — you style him in dark grey slacks and a mesh shirt. His hair was slightly messy but hotter than ever, and your fingers constantly took a trip through the strands of curls, massaging his scalp while he groaned occasionally.

(Yeah fuck me, that esquire picture fucked me up for days.)

He’s holding a beer, now, one hand on your waist. Your legs are splayed across his lap, ass on his thigh comfortably while an arm wraps around the back of his neck. It’s comfortable — and intimate, but neither of you mind. It’s barely nine o’clock, and Aisha had insisted on paying for one of those stupid clubbing games. A waiter had brought the drinks over, and now each of you were going around to answer the questions as best they could with the amount of alcohol in their veins.

The two girls across from you were drinking the most, but Aisha’s girlfriend, Iridessa, was designated driver for the night, so the rest of your friend group was fine with getting wasted.

“Time for a cute pic,” Andrea announced, beckoning the cute waiter over for a favor. He took the picture on your Instagram, handing it back to you while you posted it to your story in seconds.

Your pose against Tom was cozy, and his face was hidden in the crook of your neck — you remember this fact very well, because he’d left a few open-mouthed kisses against your skin in the middle of the picture. His hair was different, and you hoped the only correlation between him and the boy your brother knew was that his lanky fingers were gripping a glass of beer.

Within a matter of minutes, each of Tom’s brothers — and your own — were replying to the post of you cuddled up with a ‘mysterious boy.’ They were currently discussing it in the Instagram groupchat, and Tom was trying to act as surprised, but he was being vague, too preoccupied with the girl in his lap.

You clicked the off button, setting your phone down on the wooden table, deciding to let them chatter away and deciphering who you were with and why. That was a mistake, because they had decided to talk about it in their kitchen, eventually deciding to drive down to the bar you were at. It was only a fifteen minute drive — what was the harm?

You were caught off guard by the door swinging open, emerging three boys searching for you. You gasped, alerting Tom and Aisha that if they did see you, your relationship would be outed. You tried to hide away in the booth, go as unnoticed as possible. You saw them go to the back of the bar, where more people were located, and breathed out in relief. They wouldn’t be leaving that room anytime soon — it was too crowded.

You remained in your seat, joining the game normally again. You missed the way Harrison had gasped, eyes widening as he pointed to you for the twins to see. They came practically marching over to your booth to get a better look at the brown-haired boy whose lap you were seated in.

“Y/N?” Harrison asked, another gasp escaping. “Tom?!” Your jaw dropped open, eyebrows raising against your forehead. You felt Tom’s hand squeeze your waist in acknowledgement — in protectiveness — and you tried to act as normal as possible.

“Hi.” You spoke meekly, something Harrison had rolled his eyes at.

“Tom?!” Harry was just as surprised. “You’re supposed to be in Manchester! For the weekend!” “Right…” He laughed sheepishly. “Surprise? I’m sorry, I lied.” He tried again, noticing Harrison’s jaw tense, clenching and unclenching.

“You’re…. You’re with my baby sister?!”

Tom nibbled his bottom lip and you placed a calming hand on his chest. “Guys, don’t freak out. You’re gonna cause a scene.” You eyed them. “Especially you, Haz.” He shifted on his feet, dominantly leaning on his right one.

“You’re breaking rule number two.”

You didn’t falter as you responded, without missing a beat. “You broke rule number one, first.”

He didn’t answer, and you could sense Aisha and Iridessa were awkwardly sitting between you and the boys. The tension was thicker than you thought it’d be, so you decided to speak again, filling the silence before Harrison had a breakdown in front of everyone.

“Look, can we just talk about this later? I’m with people right now, I can’t really have this conversation here.”

“Fine.” Harrison agreed, but he sneered closer to Tom, eyes crisp and jaw tight. “But you’re not off the hook, Tommy.”

Tom nodded nonchalantly, sipping his beer before replying. “Do you mind? My girl and I are a bit busy.”

You bit your lip at his words, knees weakening and stomach erupting in butterflies. This boy-

That seemed to tick Harrison off in a teasing way before they finally left the bar. You exhaled in relief, gasping at Tom. “That’s literally saying something to my dad like ‘you’re not the only daddy anymore!’” You compared the instances. “You’re a cheeky bastard.” You slapped his shoulder. Tom let out a loud laugh, chuckling while his hand rubbed up and down your side. “You know Harrison’s still gonna be pissed, though.” You sighed and Tom pouted, kissing your nose to grab your attention.

“It’s gonna be okay, alright?” You nodded, a bit unconvinced, and Tom clicked his tongue. “Trust me?”

You nodded again, faithfully, and he smirked, squeezing your hip again. You brought his hand to you, guiding the glass to your lips and sipping his beer. He watched you through hooded eyelids, tongue running across his bottom lip, across his teeth. You could see his pupils dilate, and you smirked from behind the cup, fingers slipping from his hand with a small smirk, turning back to the girls and continuing the game just as you had before.

[saratogaroadwrites]

For King and Country (40/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount:  280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

=

“Is this really necessary?” Evan asked, peering at the deep pond just ahead of where he had planted his feet. The river that wound its way through Evermore was a gentle twisting stream, and the Greenlings had carved large bowls into the ground to collect the water as it flowed towards the sea. With a nearly nonexistent current, it was the best place to learn how to swim.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to! Stepping into the shallows of the river was one thing, and he’d take his baths without much protest, but swimming? Vaguely aware of how immature he sounded, he looked up at Roland.

“I mean, how often will I be swimming when we’re out at sea?”

“It’s not how often you’ll be swimming by choice,” Roland replied, pulling his hair into a low bun at the back of his skull. “It’s in case something happens and someone can’t get to you right away. I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’d rather you be able to tread water than not.”

That was a—fair point. Evan sank back. The stomach ache that he had been dealing with for days reared its ugly head, sharp and painful. He swallowed it back down as best he could.

“Yes, well…” he eyed the pond again. It was clear enough that he could see the bottom, the polished stones looking very slippery and so far down. He shivered. “What makes you think that something’s going to happen?”

“Nothing.” Roland shucked off his boots and arms band, leaving them on the bank. “It’s just a precaution. Better safe than sorry.”

It made sense, Evan thought. Even if Niall had sworn to them that the Ironbough trees were the strongest wood in the world, they were still just wood. A strong enough storm, or a monster, or a reef, or any number of things…Evan gulped. It made sense. Roland was probably right.

That didn’t mean he had to like it!

He hadn’t liked a lot of things recently. The thought was harder to push away than he liked and it sat heavy in his aching stomach as he bent to take off his slippers, pulling off his socks and stuffing them into his shoes. The mud squelched beneath his toes, warmed by the sun overhead that gleamed across the surface of his arms band. He watched as Roland stepped into the pond, cautiously making his way away from the edge until he stood chest deep in the water. Carefully, he turned around and extended a hand in Evan’s direction.

“Your turn,” he said. “Just take it one step at a time.”

Evan whimpered low in his throat. He really didn’t want to do this! But…was that a reason not to? Not wanting to do something didn’t mean you didn’t have to, and…well. He had to do this, too.

Taking a deep breath, Evan took a few cautious steps forward. The ground sloped down the closer he got to the water, and keeping his heels from slipping took all of his concentration. He steadied himself on his hands as he stepped into the pond, shivering. In spite of the sun, the water was cold! His tail drifted out behind him as he went deeper into the water, then deeper still until it was up to his chest.

One more step, and he wouldn’t have his feet on the ground anymore. He gulped and reached forward for Roland’s hand.

“H-have you done this before?” He asked. Roland shrugged one shoulder.

“Once,” he said. “With someone about your age, actually.” Taking Evan’s hands firmly in his, he took one step back. “Now, step forward. Kick your legs like you’re walking.”

“I…” Evan took a huge breath of air. The water was reaching for his shoulders now, tugging at the longest locks of his hair. There was still time to back out. He closed his eyes. “Alright.”

It was like stepping off the edge of a cliff. Well, not really. It was more like taking a step off of a staircase in the dark and not realizing there wasn’t another step beneath your foot until you stumbled. Evan lurched and nearly went under.

“Careful—” Roland tugged him back up. “You have to start kicking. Your body’s going to want to sink if you let it.”

He could tell! The unbalanced, floating feeling set Evan’s teeth on edge and he clung to Roland’s hand, kicking wildly beneath the surface. His toes barely skimmed the mud, and it was a fight just to maintain any sense of balance in the water. It was nothing at all like walking, that was for sure!

“That’s it,” Roland said after a minute or two had passed and Evan hadn't sunk. “Now, start using your arms.” He demonstrated with his free hand. Evan took another gulp of air, kicking harder to try and get his shoulders out of the water before he did the same. It actually seemed to be helping! He rose a little higher, able to get his chin to crest the surface. Roland smiled at him. “Good. Now—”

“Now I try on my own.” Evan said. Roland’s eyes widened.

“No, that’s not—”

Too late. Evan let go of Roland’s hand and started using both his arms to stay afloat, but the sudden loss of support caught him off guard and he slipped beneath the surface. Barely a second later, Roland hauled him back up. Evan coughed, sputtering.

“It’s okay, it’s okay—” Roland said, hauling him back towards the bank. “Just breathe. We can try again—”

“What’s the point?!” Evan yowled, yanking himself free the second he had mud beneath his feet again. He sloshed away towards the bank, hauling himself back onto dry land. “What’s the point of any of this?!”

There was no point to it. Not to the lessons, not to the voyage, nothing! People were always going to fight and there was nothing he could do about it! He hadn’t even been able to stop himself from being kidnapped out of his own home!

With a wet huff, Evan sat down hard and turned away from the river. Regret for his words washed over him, but it was too late to take them back. His stomach ache sharpened even as he pulled his knees up tight. He heard as Roland climbed out of the pond.

“This isn’t just about swimming lessons, is it?” Roland asked softly. Silently, Evan looked away. With a quiet sigh, Roland sat down in the mud beside him. “Whatever this is, you don’t have to handle it alone.”

“It’s stupid.” Evan said, voice muffled into his knees.

“It’s bothering you. That’s reason enough to talk about it.” He heard more than saw Roland lean forward. “Evan. You can talk to me.”

“I just…” He swallowed hard. “It’s…when Jack had me, he said…I…”

“You thought no one was coming after you?”

Evan shook his head. “I knew someone would come,” he said softly. It had been the one thing he had been sure of. “I just…” He swallowed hard, eyes burning. “Jack believed that Mausinger would reward him…what if…what if everyone else in Dell does, too? What if none of them…” The words caught in his throat.

He didn’t want to, but Evan had to face the idea that maybe, just maybe, no one in Dell would want to join a united nation with him at its helm. He didn’t want to make things so untenable for citizens of any nation and—

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Roland said gently. His hand came to rest on the back of Evan’s neck, thumb rubbing soothing circles. “Once we have something worth trading, we can open talks with Mausinger. If he’s half a good a king as he thinks he is, he’ll do what’s right for his people.”

“Even if that’s starting a war?” Evan asked in a small voice. How many Mousekind wanted his head on a pike? If Dell attacked them, then…he knew they would have to respond. The thought kept him up at night. He tightened his grip on his knees. “I don’t want to fight him, Roland…”

“I know,” Roland said. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think he wants to start a war, either. He would have done that already if that was what he was after.” Roland went silent for a moment, then asked in a soft voice, “I'm sorry I have to ask, but…would you be willing to trade the Mark of Kings? Give Mausinger what he wants in exchange for Dell signing the Declaration?”

Would he? Evan swallowed the immediate “no” that threatened to burst out of his throat. Squeezing his eyes tight, he actually thought about it. By blood, he still had claim to Dell. The crown of Dell had passed down his father’s line for hundreds of generations, and by birthright it was his. Mausinger had stolen that from him as obviously as he had stolen King Leonhard’s life, and he wanted it back.

Didn’t he? Did he really want to rule Dell when it was becoming so very obvious that half of his almost-subjects didn’t want him on the throne? He’d spoken to the Grimalkin that had made their way to Evermore, and it had become very obvious that tension between the two races had long since reached a boiling point. He didn’t know how to fix that, or even if he could. It wouldn’t be fair to retake a throne when he had no idea how to best lead the people it served.

Even so…the Mark was the last thing he had of his father. For that reason, he didn’t want to just let it go! But…if it could unite the nations, bring peace, then…

Heart aching, Evan nodded into his knees.

“If it would…end the fighting…” He whispered, “Yes. But only then.”

“Okay.” Roland said. He removed his hand from the back of Evan’s neck, only to slip an arm around his shoulders instead. Evan sniffled, leaning into Roland’s side. “Once we’re back from Hydropolis, I’ll start drafting an agreement.” He rubbed a hand up and down Evan’s arm. “We’ll figure this out, Evan.”

Evan nodded, reaching up with one hand to rub at his still burning eyes. Sniffling once more, he took a deep, shaky breath. It was the best they could do. Maybe someday it wouldn’t sting so badly.

“We should…” He swallowed the lump in his throat, and his pride. “We should probably try that lesson again.”

“When you’re ready,” Roland said, “We’ve still got time.”

How much time, neither could say. But, at least for now, there was peace.

It was as much as Evan could hope for at this point. Hopefully it would last.

[five-rivers]

Loved 6

Written for Dannymay 2021 Day 15: Nature

.

“Danny,” said Sam, “what’s wrong?”

The question was, really, far too vague. Many things were wrong all the time, especially with Danny. Part and parcel of being what he was, living where they were, and doing what he did. Although she was more comfortable with it all than Tucker, she could acknowledge that things were… bad. That the world was messed up. That, although people could be horrible to each other on their own, the monstrous beings lurking under the fabric of reality did not help.

But Danny had been in especially low spirits for the last few days. She’d almost say he was depressed, but she was hesitant to apply mental health disorders to someone who wasn’t even entirely human anymore. He’d also been unusually quiet, but he had admitted some time ago that he was having progressively more difficulty ‘finding words,’ so that could be the reason instead.

If she could find out why he was upset, maybe she could cheer him up. Or at least support him.

He made a face, one hand covering his mouth as he talked. “You remember that time, um, when Clockwork… The gifts?” He touched his wrist.

“Yes?” said Sam, prompting him to continue.

Danny glanced down the otherwise oddly-deserted school hallway. “It’s… He had me eat with him. Sort of. Ever since then, my teeth have been…” He paused his hand now firmly pressed to his face.

“Weird?” suggested Tucker, voice low.

Danny nodded. “I had – I was venomous, in the Dream, I don’t—” He faltered.

“Do they hurt?” asked Sam.

“Mhm.”

“Do you think biting into something might help?” asked Sam as she swung her backpack off her shoulder and rummaged in it.

Danny’s eyes seemed to glaze over as he considered the question. Finally, he shrugged.

Sam found what she was looking for. “Here,” she said, holding out the shiny red apple. “Try this.”

Danny examined the apple, careful and silent. The fruit was reflected, vividly, in his eyes. Once. Twice. Three times? No. Danny had two eyes. Two perfect, insightful, soulful eyes.

Delicately, he took it. He still didn’t remove the hand over his mouth.

“We’ve seen worse, man,” mumbled Tucker.

“Not when I’m being human,” protested Danny. Gingerly, he removed his other hand from his mouth and brought the apple to his lips.

When his lips parted, Sam could see what he was talking about. Those were definitely, clearly, fangs. Sharp, smooth, and white. They sparkled even in the flat overhead school lights. Something bluish and clear glistened at their tips.

Was Danny venomous?

(Why did that excite her?)

They crunched into the apple. Danny held it there, still and tense, for a few seconds before his expression melted into absolute bliss.

“Feel better?” asked Sam.

“Mmmhmm,” said Danny, eyes half closed.

“Guys?” said Tucker. “We should probably go now. Before they kick us out.”

“Huh?”

“It’s the end of the school day. School’s been out for half an hour.”

Sam frowned. Was it? She… Did she… She did remember going to all her classes. She shook her head, dismissing the momentary lapse.

Danny regretfully disengaged from the apple, blinked, and swayed. His outline wavered. Sam grabbed his wrist, and a jolt ran up her bones, making her teeth hurt as if she had just bitten down on ice. He stabilized again.

“Thank you,” he said.

He did not notice that she had taken the apple.

.

She set the apple on her desk, and the color stood out vibrantly against the dark-stained wood and her black, goth-themed knickknacks. The color, which was a different than what it had been when she had given the apple to Danny.

The neon blue skin was cold enough to gather condensation and smooth under her fingers. There was otherwise little evidence that Danny had bitten into it. The holes had sealed over, leaving only small depressions.

She knew what she wanted to do. She knew what she shouldn’t do.

Danny said she couldn’t die. That he had destroyed her death, among others. She trusted him.

But it was always good to be prepared.

She set up a text on a timer. If she wasn’t able to cancel it in the next ten minutes, it would go out to Danny and Tucker.

The bed would be the best place to do this. She sat down on the edge, feet firmly planted on the floor.

She bit into the apple.

For a few seconds, she was disappointed, but then.

Then.

She let herself drop back onto her bed, the springs creaking slightly and the covers gently fluttering. She exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. Blinked. Closed her eyes. Opened them again.

Everything. Everything.

It was like seeing for the first time. The world was as thin as rice paper. The light was shinning through. It’s true nature.

And all the people. Everywhere. Everyone. Connected.

She—

Everyone.

Beyond the rice paper they could see and touch and feel, the false veil above the truth they couldn’t look at directly, but Danny could and, oh.

Was this what he saw all the time? Was he always filled with this sense of—

Of charity? Of- of—

What could she call this? Care? Empathy?

Could she call it love?

(She could. He was. Because he was loving. But his understanding of love was overwritten and subsumed by his understanding of Love. There could be no other way.)

(To love was human. Love was divine.)

If everyone could feel like this…

Sam knew how much people could hurt each other. She knew how terrible the world was.

(Her grandfather had only died a few years ago. He’d been born in Germany.)

She knew how stressed Danny was about hurting others, even when it was his mere existence that was harmful – And Sam wasn’t so sure that it was harmful. If Danny hadn’t just internalized the vitriol and hate that his parents practically consisted of.

If everyone could feel like this…

They’d had a conversation, back when they’d connected the others to cults, about whether or not cults were a natural result of the others’ presence, or if they were actually encouraged by the others. Maybe it was a combination of the two, but Sam now had good evidence for the former.

This. This was natural. This was right.

And she would work hard to make everything else right, too.

The feeling faded after another few… minutes? Hours?

Minutes. It had to be minutes. Otherwise, Danny and Tucker would be here.

The timer.

She fumbled her phone open just in time to cancel the text.

.

Sam was tempted to take another bite of the apple, but she knew that she had to be careful with her resources. She had her vision. Her goal. Her plan to make the world a better place.

It started here.

She leaned on her shovel and checked the depth of the hole in the ground. Good. Good. Room enough for the apple and room enough for the fertilizer.

She used her fingernails to slit open a bag of the latter and then placed the apple reverently on top of the small pile. A shadow passed over her. It didn’t seem like quite enough, did it?

Perhaps… an offering? She emptied the contents of her pocket. Coins. A six-sided die with a bat in place of its ‘one’ pip. A caramel and a strawberry candy her grandmother had given her that morning. A small picture of herself, Danny, and Tucker. A safely pin.

She arranged them carefully around the apple. The safety pin gleamed in the light.

Staring at her. She stared back.

Maybe…

She picked up the pin and squeezed it to free the sharp end. Then, before she could hesitate, before she could have second thoughts, she drew it over the ball of her thumb. Blood welled up from the small wound, and she let it drip on the soil surrounding the apple.

.

The tree grew into a sapling overnight. The next day, it was taller than Sam. On the third, the trunk was thicker than both her wrists together. By the end of the week, it had burst into bloom.

Sam made sure to water it every day.

Danny, meanwhile, continued to have problems with his teeth. He spoke less, his words slurred and lisping around his still-growing fangs, but that didn’t matter to her and Tucker. After the years they’d spent together, they could read each other pretty well.

Sam maintained a constant supply of apples for him to bite down on. Most of the time, he ate them afterwards, which she couldn’t really begrudge him, but sometimes he’d leave them on his desk or on the table or just out and Sam would put aside her next afternoon for experimentation.

Before she knew it, the tree was bearing fruit. Rose-red and perfectly shaped, not a trace of scale or insects. Sam knew exactly what to do with them.

.

“Hey,” she said, as her parents walked in, “I made an apple pie. Tell me if it’s any good.”