#I will drink some water and hopefully that will slow it as well

[social-mockingbird]

I got distracted and accidentally chugged half a huge glass of coffee through a straw someone send help my body’s about to start vibrating at a speed that can warp through walls and split atoms

[minkdelovely]

love and power

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chapter three “is this the life that lies ahead now?”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: drinking on an empty stomach (do not attempt in real life, but this is hell baby), allusions to poisoning, reader is hungover and has a poor appetite, uh oh art thou pining?, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 2.8k

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

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After getting some water you tried falling back asleep to no avail, tossing and turning for at least an hour before deciding to call it quits.

Leaving the hotel in the middle of the night wasn’t the best idea, but you felt like you’d start tearing at the wallpaper if you stayed in your room. Cliche as it was, fresh air had always helped you relax while you were living. You thought back to the family garden and sighed. You’d give anything to be able to sit there now.

Your thoughts drifted to your father as you changed out of your pajamas. Things had changed so much in your day-to-day after coming to the hotel that you realized you couldn’t remember the last time he had crossed your mind. You felt a tightness in your throat when you tried to remember what he looked like. It was hazy, but he was mostly there; strong with a brilliant smile. How long would it be before you couldn’t remember him at all? Even the way you heard his voice in your mind didn’t seem completely right, an imitation of a memory.

Was he doing okay? Was he still mourning you? Or did he think you were just missing? Did the money go through? Did he know what you did for him to get it? There was no way to know.

“Can’t sleep?” 

You jumped at the sound of Husker’s voice, so lost in thought and determined to get out of there that you hadn’t noticed him at the bar. It wasn’t surprising that he was still down here, though, being just before midnight. In fact, the real surprise was that he was here by himself. You decided to put leaving on pause and made your way over to him, taking advantage of the rare moment of privacy. Besides, what good would it do to dismiss Husker when he had been so discreet about this morning?

“More like slept too much,” you said, sighing as you took a seat across from him. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Husk jabbed amiably, turning to grab an empty glass. 

You groaned. “Well there goes my hope of looking better than I feel. I was thinking maybe a walk would help, but—” Husk gave you a look, rightly making you feel sheepish. 

“Didn’t go so hot this morning, huh? Thought you’d have better luck at night?” he said, half-joking, and passed you an amber-colored drink. The worry must’ve been showing on your face, as he cooly added, “Don’t worry, it’s been a ghost town in here for over an hour. It’s still only me and Angel who know about what happened.”

“Is he at work right now?” you asked, relaxing a little and took a casual look around. “I really don’t know how I can make it up to you both. This morning I…,” you sighed again and ran a hand through your hair, feeling the exhaustion seep back in. “I don’t know. Hopefully I’ll just forget about it, or convince myself it was a nightmare or something. But I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

You recalled your reflection in the mirror before you showered, unrecognizable to yourself under the layer of gore caked to your skin. 

Husk waved his hand, but the softness in his eyes felt like a rock in your stomach. “Don’t worry about it, we’ve both seen crazier shit in our time. But yeah, he’s been gone for most of the day. Said Valentino was having an ‘emergency’ but I have my doubts. He’s always pulling Angel in for dumb shit.”

You nodded and finally took a sip of your drink, shocked by how much you enjoyed it. A pleasant bitter taste lingered in your mouth, and you had to actively fight the urge to chug down the rest of it.

“Valentino’s his boss, right? Alastor’s done a pretty good job of keeping me preoccupied, but I think I’ve heard you guys talking about him before.”

“That’s the simplest thing to call him, I guess, though I prefer to call him an asshole,” Husk grumbled and you both shared a small laugh, the alcohol already making you feel lighter. 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, Husk refilling your glass as you rested your head in your hand, gazing through the windows to the city below. Would you be able to pinpoint the alley if you concentrated hard enough? Someone had to have stumbled on him by now, right? Like his little sidekick… Did he ever go back for Donny? Something else clicked into place as you thought of him and the events of the morning: unless someone came after you for retribution, you would get away with it. That’s just how life is here.

No missing person report, no investigation, no forensics, no trial, no jail sentence. Weren’t you already “doing time” by being here? It’s not like you could add on to it. Not that you intended to do it again, but it was a step in the right direction of making peace with yourself. Maybe you really would forget about it someday, maybe not. There were some things that stuck with you forever.

The image of your grandmother came to you then, the last time you had spoken with her. She was sitting in her favorite chair near the fireplace in the library, her face set in the ever-present scowl you resented so much. She really was such a miserable creature. You saw yourself place the tray of tea and almond shortbread cookies down on the dark-lacquered, antique coffee table between you, knowing it would the last thing she ever ate. And tried to fight the smile pulling at your lips.

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“It occurred to me in the night that you still owe me something from the butcher,” Alastor said casually, his face buried in the newspaper. Irritation shot through you quick as lightning, but you prevailed against the urge to dump the coffee you were bringing him all over his lap. 

As the grandfather clock in Alastor’s room chimed the hour, the pulse in your head threatened to kill. Apparently hangovers were very real in Hell (because of course they were), and this one was a doozy. Husk had only given you three drinks, but since you had wrung yourself so dry it was  enough to leave you feeling like absolute shit. Beyond some water, the only thing you managed to ingest so far this morning was a piece of plain, burnt toast to try and soothe your aching stomach. It had taken all you had to keep it down. Needless to say, you weren’t starting the day in the best of moods.

Not that you ever thought Alastor would take it easy on you anyway. The look he gave you when you showed up in your new dress was so self-satisfied that it made you want to crawl under a rock. And when he said that you looked like death warmed over, you wanted to use said rock to knock his teeth in. It was the first you had seen of him since the incident in your room yesterday, though you tried not to dwell on the fact that he had returned at some point while you were asleep. In the grand scheme of his behavior you’ve been exposed to, that was really the least of your worries. 

Through the veil of annoyance you found yourself looking at the mug in his grasp, remembering the strength of his hand holding your chin. Your breath shallowed as he brought the rim up to his lips. Fuck. Tearing your eyes away, you did your best to swallow the lump in your throat. This couldn’t be happening.

He was just toying with you yesterday. Nothing new, you told yourself. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes how much he enjoys feeling superior. Not that you had ever seen him pull a stunt like that on anyone else, but who knows? It’s not like you were with him every second of the day. Even in this very moment, he was messing with you. 

Was it your fault that he had only grabbed his clothes off the filthy floor of that alley and left the other bag to rot? Of course he’d see it that way, and if your headache wasn’t as terrible as it was, you might have told him exactly that. Especially considering that you were already out money for the liver, and he was more than likely expecting you to pay again.

“I’ll head out after I’ve finished with your room, unless you’d prefer I go now and clean when I get back,” you answered smoothly, hoping he’d give you permission for the latter. How he had even managed to track in the dirt you saw on the area rug was a mystery. You just knew that it would keep you busy for a decent amount of time and you weren’t looking forward to more scrubbing on your hands and knees. “And if the clothes are ready to be picked up again, I can get those, too.”

Alastor peered over the newspaper, eyebrow raised, his eyes and smile alight with mischief. “My, someone’s eager to be in my good graces today! No need to bother with the laundry, but I hope you won’t mind if I join you going into town. I don’t feel like staying cooped up in the hotel. Go ahead and clean now, I’d hate for those stains on the rug to set. Besides, you know how I despise coming home to a mess.”

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While he waited for you to return after freshening up, Alastor took a look around his room, admiring the results of your hard work. You were turning out to be much more resilient than he had anticipated. Though your expression was hardly ever enthusiastic, you’d never be able to tell by the way you cleaned. Someone taught you well, he thought to himself, breathing in the scent of cleaning products that nearly overpowered the floral almond you always left behind. So pleasant.

Though if he was being honest, he was starting to run out of ideas on how to keep you busy. He would mess up the bed, despite rarely sleeping in it, and leave his housecoat, shirts, and bowties draped over various pieces of furniture for you to pick up and put in their proper place. The mud and dirt on the rug had been a last-minute stroke of genius, but it wasn’t something he cared to repeat too often. God forbid he became predictable. 

There was part of his room you didn’t have access to, and Alastor doubted that he’d ever let you see it — nor anyone else, for that matter. It’s not like it was a space you’d be able to clean in a traditional sense, anyway. After the hotel was rebuilt he thought it would be a nice idea to separate his serene bayou from the rest of the living quarters. Remembering how Vaggie had so rudely barged in on him in the past, it wasn’t something he was keen on happening again. And it was comical to watch you glancing at the locked door, pondering what could be behind it. 

He knew he couldn’t keep you cooped up as his personal chambermaid forever though, unless he wanted to be hounded by Charlie and Vaggie about it. Which he decidedly did not want. And he could admit that this cleaning game was getting stale… How could he switch things up before he tired of you completely? How could he get you to show him another spectacle like yesterday?

A knock at the door snapped The Radio Demon out of his thoughts.

“Alastor? Can I come in?” Charlie said from the other side of the door. By the tone in her voice, he could tell she was here to discuss business. He sighed quietly to himself and went to the door, swinging it open with a charming smile. 

“Why of course, my dear! How may I be of service?” Alastor closed the door behind them and led her to one of the chairs by the fireplace, taking the one opposite her and crossed his legs, neatly folding his hands over one knee. “It’s just the two of us. Sylvie left to go spruce up before we head into town,” he said, noting how Charlie was glancing around the room.

“Oh, good!” she sighed, putting her hand over her chest in relief. “That’s, um, kind of what I came here to talk to you about. I know you’ve been…,” she paused, hands dancing as she searched for the right word, “…acclimating her to working here — and I don’t want to step on your toes — but I think it would be really nice if she could join in on daily activities. No one has really gotten a chance to get to know her yet, and I’d hate for her to keep missing out on opportunities to bond with everyone.”

He had jinxed himself, but at least it was only the princess he had to deal with.

What to do? It’s not like he could say that your cleaning skills needed improvement when evidence to the contrary surrounded them; the room was pristine. He could argue that it would be prudent to keep some level of permanent staff unless they wanted to be in a never-ending state of training new hires, but something told him that wouldn’t be the best approach. At least not for now. Alastor had no intention of letting any souls under his contract be taken from him, for redemption or otherwise. Still, seeing the others develop their relationships with each other had been fun to observe. How would little Sylvie fit into the dynamic?

“I suppose I’ve been a bit selfish with her, haven’t I? I’ll be sure to leave room in her schedule starting tomorrow, but I hope you’ll understand that mornings are sacrosanct,” Alastor said agreeably, straightening his coat as he stood up from the chair. “Unless there was anything else, I’ll go and tell her the good news.”

Charlie followed suit, grin wide and eyes sparkling as they made their way back to the door. “Of course! Oh, thank you Alastor, you have no idea how excited I am!” It was impossible not to. Her enthusiasm was nearly contagious. “Vaggie and I are thinking something up right now as a surprise for everyone, but the details haven’t been totally worked out yet. I’ll let you know as soon as possible though — gah! I can’t wait for tomorrow!”

Alastor merely smiled in response and they parted ways in the hall. He wasn’t thrilled to be losing his monopoly on you so soon, but knowing that he now had to be more intentional with his time was invigorating. Curious to see how you’ll react to being invited to group activities, he made his way to your room, already hard at work thinking of new ways to push your buttons.

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You were surprised to see Alastor in the hall when you opened your door, since you had been instructed to return to his room when you were finished touching up. The quick jump-scare he caused sent a fresh wave of throbbing to your head and you hissed under your breath, unable to stop yourself from massaging your temple.

“You’re up to something,” you grumbled, walking past him to make your way to the elevators. 

He feigned offense, easily stepping into stride with you down the hall. “Chivalry is lost on you twenty-first-century souls! I don’t know why I bother.”

You glared at him from the corner of your eye, taking in the sardonic look on his face as you stepped into the elevator. It was best not to push your luck with him, considering you still had an entire outing in Cannibal Town to get through. You were about to say something when the elevator stopped after going down a couple floors, the doors opening to Angel Dust. He looked exhausted. 

When the two of you made eye contact, he glanced away, the air in the elevator quickly turning nervous as he walked in. Was it because of yesterday? Maybe Angel hadn’t been as comfortable with it as Husk made it seem… Suddenly he hit a button, stopping the elevator in its tracks. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, steeling himself. 

“Hey, so… you know how you came home lookin’ like fuckin’ Carrie yesterday?”

You felt Alastor’s static humming in the space between you; the first reaction he’s had since Angel came into the elevator. 

“I wanted to apologize sooner but—”

Angel waved his hands, cutting you off. “No, no, please, you don’t have to,” he said, a small laugh escaping him. “Look, uh… I’m only bringin’ it up cuz I just gotta know.” He was actively fighting a smile as he continued, “The trouble you ran into? His name wasn’t Donny, was it?”

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tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r

[russellsppttemplates]

A little hope (Part 2) (Lando Norris)

In which Lando realises he learnt a few things in school, and yet the only way to learn about you is hoping you'll have him by your side

Note: english is not my first language. This is part two of A little hope, which got a lot of love, so thank you for that 😊 hopefully you enjoy this ending! Thank you so much for the love on that piece ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions a couple's fight, self deprecation moments, body image insecurity, signs and symptoms of anxiety, online hate comments, sickness, curse words, allusions to smut

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

Somatic or not, your stomach was not handling any food. The minute you ate something, you were sure to bring if up a few moments later since you had arrived home, "for fuck's sake", you groaned, resting your head on your forearm on the edge of the toilet, taking a deep breath.

When you felt strong enough, you walked back to your bed, noticing the clock was reading six in the morning already. Rolling to the other side, you hoped you'd be able to sleep it off, but when your alarm rung, you felt even worse than before.

Getting your phone again along with your glasses, you opened the Team's group chat, writing a quick text to let them know that you didn't feel well and you wouldn't be able to join them today and that you would try your best to get ahead on the projects you could work on remotely. A few minutes later, Tara and Max texted back.

Tara TQ

I'm sorry to hear that, Y/N, I hope you feel better soon! Don't worry about anything else other than getting better! 💚

Max

Feel better soon, Y/N! Don't worry about work, we've got it!

A good while later you woke up again, feeling slightly better, you had enough energy to eat some plain crackers and drink some tea, feeling that it was actually settling in your stomach for the first time in the last couple of hours.

Taking in the stride, you went to the bathroom, hoping a shower would clean the night sweats away and give you a little boost. Just in case, you supported yourself on the wall, keeping close to it just in case your legs faltered while you let the water cascade down your hair to your back and legs, washing your hair quickly and rinsing your body wash from your skin. You wrapped your fluffy robe around your body and a towell for your hair, laying in bed to rest a little.

Skipping your usual routine, you dressed in some comfy clothes, a hoodie you had stolen from Lando and some plaid pyjama pants, inhaling the comforting scent. That was something you should think about, it wasn't fair to leave Lando waiting for you, and you needed to sort it out.

As if on cue, your doorbell rang, leaving you to think it was the mailman with a package for your neighbours as you would often take it for them whenever they weren't home.

"Hi! Are you Y/N Y/L/N?", a guy that looked a few years older than you checked, "yes, that's me", you squinted, "I have this, it was ordered for you. Enjoy it!", he said as he handed you a takeout bag.

Thanking him, you closed the door, seeing a little note attached to the bag.

This is a little something to help you get better soon. There's some chicken soup, pasta when you feel up to it, something sweet and some tea bags.

Love you, Lando 🤍

Smiling at the little note, your heart squeezed as you realised that the subject shouldn't go past this week.

While you heated up the soup, you grabbed your phone, opening your conversation with Lando so you could thank him.

I just got the takeout bag, thank you. I'm slowly coming back to feeling better, it's probably some forty-eight hour bug and my body telling me to slow down.

I think we should talk soon, whenever you have the time, tough. There's no rush!

I love you ✨️

"So, today we're taking over the stream!", Lando announced to the camera, smiling and waving as the chat went wild.

"We are just going to game, I think, as there has been a change of plans and we don't really know how to follow up to what we had planned to do", Max referred to the planned stream for Quadrant. The original idea came from the fans as they wanted to get to know the behind the scenes of the team, and just for luck, this week was for Graphic Design.

"We're making do with what we have, and as soon as we're able, we'll do the behind the scenes for all the graphic designing things that go on at Quadrant!", Lando smiled sympathetically, the memory of you fond as your message sparked his hope, and the chat didn't seem to mind it too much.

I was hoping to see Y/N and Lando call me single in eighteen different languages, but I really do miss her

I take it she didn't even bother to show up, she's learnt her lesson I guess

Wasn't Y/N supposed to join them?

You can tell by Lando's face that he misses her, they're so cute together

It looks better like this, honestly

Imagine having to call your boyfriend to tell him that you can't show up to work

She probably doesn't even work, Lando has someone doing the job while she sits still and looks pretty

What do you mean? She doesn't even look pretty ??

Maybe she's ill or had something else to do? Can't you people be a little bit more empathetic and kind for once?

Max noticed how his bestfriend's attention was on the chat, looking at the same flood of comments he did before clearing his throat, "so, do we feel like racing or are we leaning towards another game?", he interjected, pulling Lando away from the screen slightly, "you choose, I'm not fancying anything particular. Only that I know that I'll beat you at anything", he chuckled.

Once they ended the stream, Lando tidied the room a little bit as Max switched the equipment off, "is that what you were talking about the other day? About Y/N?", he questioned.

"Yes. We have been talking to the platform managers, but they haven't restricted everything apparently", Max said, knowing better than to not tell him the truth.

"Who do they think they are to say things like that about someone they don't know? I get that I receive such things because I'm out there, but Y/N is barely a public person! She doesn't deserve that!", Lando huffed.

"Have you guys talked about it yet?", he questioned, having noticed that Lando hadn't texted you in the group chat but that he had a spring up in his step that afternoon.

"She texted me today, actually. We've been keeping to ourselves, we weren't in the right mind to discuss what needs to be discussed until now", he smiled, "I'm still unsure of going to see her today or tomorrow, since she's sick I don't want to bother her too much, and I could use someone else's perspective because I have a funny way with words and I don't want to get it wrong because I'm not a book worm and seem almost illiterate on any good day", he admitted.

"That's good, mate! Start going then, we're thinking out loud", Max encouraged, happy to see friend in high spirits. Because he had known him for so long, Max knew how different this relationship was from his past ones. They weren't bad or wrong, and they helped shape Lando into who he is and how he behaves. The way he cared about Y/N was different and Max couldn't find it in him and lie about the fact that he thought the young woman was it.

"Like you said, it's the fact that she's lost her name because of who she dates. All of a sudden, none of her achievements are valuable, worthy or even acknowledged because she's my girlfriend. Our relationship had nothing to do with her employment - hell, I only met her because she applied, otherwise Goodness knows where I would've met the love of my life - and, and I've been doing this thing where I just call her my girlfriend and I now understand that can be discrediting of her, like I just see her as my girlfriend. But the more I think about it, the more I realise I do it out of genuine pride of her. Look at me! I'm a muppet and I drive around in circles in the weekends, and she! That woman, this woman!", he showed him his lockscreen, a picture of the two of you, "she is the most talented person I've met and I'm so proud that I'm hers and she's mine!".

"I think you're underestimating yourself a little, but you've also played above your game", he chuckled, "and about the comments?", he wondered. Even though it wasn't your biggest concern, he knew one person could only muster up so much before letting it get to them.

"Like you said, we'll work with the platforms, if we have her permission we can also put out a statement about it. With her or anyone on the team, we don't tolerate offense", Lando said, "I want to make this as safe as possible, and the fact that it took her for us to notice it is a learning curve".

"Now you just need to be concise about it", Max tapped his back, "I'm sure she loves that babble situation of yours, thinks it's cute and all, but explain well enough", he smirked.

Like he thought, when he texted you to know how you were feeling, he got your reply awhile later saying that you were feeling better and the nap you had was helpful, and then another one saying he could swing by the next day if he wanted to.

Hoping the night made you feel better, Lando texted you the time he was planning to join you, scheduling his training session for the late morning so he could have a good lunch after his shower and get his plans started. You weren't swooned by big dates or big gestures, but rather small meaningful heartfelt things, so he stopped by the pharmacy to pick up some medication to restock your stash and your favourite chocolate.

"Hey, love", you smiled as you opened the door, seeing an equally smiling Lando, "come in, come in", you nudged as he stepped forward, eyes meeting a silently giving consent for a kiss on the cheek.

Silently, Lando left his trainers by the door, walking hand in hand with you to the living room, "are you feeling back to 100%?", he questioned as you sat down on the sofa, on your sides so you could face eachother while his hand played with yours still.

"Yes. I'm glad it's Saturday and I don't have to take any more days, and I can rest up without feeling guilty. And you, how have you been?", you wondered back, not knowing if he wanted to jump straight in the topic.

"I've been well. I was a little worried when you said you were sick, but now I'm better knowing that you're doing well... and that you're ready to tall about us", he blushed, eyes looking into yours.

"I want to thank you for waiting and understanding, and I want to apologise if in this mean time something I did hurt you or made you feel like you weren't welcomed in my life", you gulped, "I'm not used to feeling so little - fuck, I've never been called that - and I spiralled out to the point where I could only think that, through no fault of your own or my own, I'd lose my identity. I'd be Lando's girlfriend, and not Y/N, and I freaked out a little", you explained.

"You had your reasons, love. I'm just glad and thankful that you feel comfortable to tell me how you feel", Lando comforted, bringing your hand up to his lips as he kissed the soft skin.

"I didn't know you felt that way. Maybe I didn't see it or didn't want to see it, the way people were talking about you - and that is something we are going to figure out once for all - but I missed it. Whenever I say you're my girlfriend, it's not because that's just who you are. It's the fact that I'm incredibly proud of you, than I can't believe your my girlfriend and I just say it because I like to show you off, too!

"I learned so much stuff in school despite what I may appear to know, subtracting and multiplying with decimals, all of the capital cities, even though I'm still shit at them, yet, no one taught me how to prepare for this, for you, for how I feel about you. And I'm so proud of you that I tell it to everyone that you're my girlfriend, not because you're just that, but because I love you and you're so amazing", he exhaled out. Even though he had his usually silly tone, there was deep seriousness in his words still.

"You're confident, I love that about you, and to know that indirectly I was the person to put a dent in that makes me wonder if you should stick around me, because I don't want to ever hurt you. And maybe this is selfish, but I don't want to live without you. Now that I've known what it is like to have you in my life, to be yours, I don't want anyone else", he gulped at his own admission. Throughout the years, he learnt about vulnerability and came to terms with his own. Right now, it was bare for anyone to see.

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't your own person, and I'm sorry if I did anything to hurt you or disrespect you", he sighed, seeing your watery eyes, "no tears, baby, I can't stand to see you cry", he whispered, cleaning the stray tear that made it's way down your cheek.

"I love you, Lando. I'm the luckiest girl to be able to see you for you, no titles or sponsorships, just you, around your friends and family, see your vulnerability, and I'm the luckiest because I get to be loved by you. So many people around you love you, and I get to be one of those you love back", you scooted closer to him, hands cupping his cheek before you kissed his lips.

"I always want you to be honest with me, baby. Anything you need to tell me, we will fix it, I know we will. I love how you always cry when Boo and Sulley hug for the last time in Monsters Inc. no matter how much times you've seen it, because you always let me know how you feel, and I want that for us. I'll show you how I feel too, and you can nag me when I don't. You're it, Y/N, no one else", he stated, "things people are saying about you are not okay, but Max and I, and the media team, too, are working on something".

"I don't care about who you've dated before, genuinely. But the fact that I'm bombarded everyday with comments regarding my body or my job from people who don't have any knowledge and only want to hurt, it's hard", you admitted, keeping your promise of showing him how you felt.

"You shouldn't because I don't either. I'm with you, and I plan to be with you for as long as you'll have me. I love you, I love your body, I love your personality and everything that you are", he said, getting up as he pulled you with him.

"Up", Lando said as he tapped your hip, helping you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, "where are you taking me?", you giggled, your hands coming to the nape of his neck and fiddling with his curls, "I'm taking you to the bed, and I'm going to love on you for the next couple of hours. We are going to have slow and soft sex, love making if you will, just to show you how much I love you and how much you mean to me".

[tinkerbelle05]

We are Done

Characters: 1610!Miles Morales x black!fem!reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: Miles being a shitty bf & lying

Summary: Miles has been hiding things from you and after he leaves during your date, you have had enough.

Notes: first time writing Miles, might be a bit occ. Some cussing too.

You were sitting in your and Miles' favorite diner for over 20 minutes on a sunny Saturday afternoon. It was somewhat filled, mostly with teens on dates, like you are supposed to be. You try to drink some water and play a mindless game on your phone to distract yourself from the irritation you are feeling. But those do not help.

You had a whole date planned for you and Miles to catch up. Lunch at the diner, next catch a movie, and then go to an arcade. And Miles promised he would be here and instead, you were staring at an empty booth across from you.

When things were, it was so good. Miles is kind, funny, and he's everything to you. You two have been through a lot together in the last year and came out stronger. But when things were bad, they were downright terrible. He is constantly late to most of the dates you planned and you are trying to be understanding. School is hard and he is under pressure but you don't know how long you can keep giving your hopes up like this. You are reaching a breaking point.

You hear his voice before you see him. You hear him apologize for bumping into someone and watch as he hastily sits down. He looks frazzled; curls sticking out a bit, eyes darting around, and heavy breathing.

“I’m glad you could make it,” you say in a collected voice but your face says what you are feeling from his pained expression. He knows he's in deep shit. Good.

You have many, many things to say to this boy right now. Most are cussing him out and yelling at him, all is deeply inappropriate to say in a public space. So you leave. You exit the store without saying a word to him because it will get ugly if you do. You just need a cool down and things will hopefully be fine.

But of course, he follows after you with yellings of “Wait” and “Slow down a bit", and all they do is make you walk faster.

Maybe in the past, you would've stopped walking and waited for him. Listen to the pre-planned excuses he would have for why he’s so late and listen to his lies of doing better. Of being better. You don’t want to hear it, you won’t listen to it. Not this time.

Somehow Miles catches up to you and holds you to stop. He pulls you into an alleyway away from the public.

“Hey, hey, I’m so-“, he starts off.

“Don’t, Miles. Just stop talking.” You scowl up at him.

And he does. You look at him to see him looking at you with those brown eyes you love. They're deep and rich, you feel like you can fall in them forever. It looks like he’d gotten a fresh new haircut too.

“Why were you late, Miles?” You asked, calmly.

“Uh, well you see the train wasn’t working, you know how they are on the weekend,” he tells you and avoids looking at you. You couldn’t help the scoff you give him and breaks loose of his grip.

“You're lying,” you tell him and your voice becomes louder with every word. “You’re always late and you just keep lying to me, Miles! Is there someone else?” But at this question, your voice is quiet and on the cusp of breaking.

“What!” He asks, eyes wide and taking some steps back. “There is no-. Why would you even ask that?!”

“Because you keep lying, Miles. Lie, lie that’s all you seem to be doing these days. And you have the nerve to ask me that?” You rant at him and walk away.

“Woah, woah.” He grabs you by the arm again and turns you around. “I know I’ve been…distant lately and I’m sorry. But there is no one, I swear. I will-”

“Do better. I will be better.” you finished for him. “That's what you always say and you never deliver. So, not only are you lying about where you are, but you're also lying about doing and being better. I can't do this right now, Miles, I can't.” When you move to go home you notice that his hand's grip on your arm isn't as tight anymore, and when you look up to see his face, his eyes are distracted and he looks spaced out.

Tears are starting to swell up in your eyes, “Are you even listening to me, Miles?!”

"Yes, of course, I am," he answers but his eyes aren't even on you.

He looks at you and at the street, obviously torn between something. But he so clearly wants to leave. You ripped your arm from his loose grip and glared up at him.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you Miles, but if you leave me right now, we are done. I’m done, do you understand?”

He starts to walk closer to you, and for a moment your heart feels a bit light but the moment is gone as quickly as it came. He was hesitating, stuck in between movements.

You give a teary laugh and start to walk away. Feeling like a fool, “Goodbye, Miles. Don’t come looking for me after this and lose my number. You clearly have made your choice.”

See ya in the next one guys 👋🏿

Taglist & Masterlist & Reqs Info

Taglist: @justbeethings, @butterfi

My Reqs are open!!

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 7 - Bloodied Kiss

master list

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Includes many other characters from Fallout

Synopsis: The nightmares are finally catching up to Lucy.

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning:  Animal/people death, Blood, Gore, Body Horror,Violence, Nightmares, Monsters, Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Older Man/Younger Woman

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

*Mind the tags

*This had been clawing at my mind for dayssssss I needed to post it early or I was going to explode

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the dust of the car faded, Lucy felt her shoulders drop, it was barely past mid-day and she was already feeling worn out. She was proud of herself, for not backing down and holding her ground. Max had been the first boy she’d really fallen for, and it sucked it had ended the way it did. It was time for her to move forward, to let that part of her life go. Move onto what was coming next for her, hopefully, something that won’t end as tragic.

Lucy turned to her two companions as they started to move, happy that they had stood at her back despite having no idea what was going on. She gave a weak smile at the two, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of dread.  

“Ya’doing okay?” Cooper asks as he moves towards her, the way the afternoon sun shone on his skin making her heart speed up. Her eyes unabashedly went over his body, the man was well-toned. The day-to-day work is evident on the hard lines of his muscles covering him; a crooked grin on his face when Lucy finally catches her eyes. 

Lucy glances away, as Dane grins at her, “Yeah, just, wasn’t expecting him to show up. Ever.”

“Well, shirtless. Could I get a hand movin’ some stuff around to get the mower.” Dane chuckles, Cooper smirking at the comment, the tips of his ears going pink. Lucy smiling at the two ribbing each other.

“Yeah, I can help the greasemonkey,” Cooper throws back, with raised eyebrows. “Shirt got wet. But pipes should be fine.” He said just loud enough for them to hear.

“Sure it did,” Dane rolls their eyes as turning to head to the other shed. Cooper gives them a sideways glance before following, a smile on his lips as he looks back at Lucy.

“I will go turn the water back on for the house,” Lucy chirps, her face was going to be stained beet red at this point. She was feeling happy that she had friends like these.

***

Lucy is once again sitting on the counter, the pipes are now running without leaks. Cooper had actually laid in water, which had given Lucy an excuse to toss his shirt into the dryer. She’d take any excuse to see the man move around her home and property shirtless. Dane had teased him endlessly about it much to Lucy’s amusement. Dane had taken off about an hour ago with the promise to come back on Monday to continue the work. Lucy had half a mind to figure out how to keep them on a more permanent basis. Something she’d run by Harris, see if it was worth doing, and if Dane wanted to stay of course. 

Cooper walks in, putting the caulking gun down beside the sink. He’d decide after finishing the pipe to fix up several issues around the sink. Lucy was positive she could have figured it out but Cooper was insistent. Really who was she to refuse the offer from a shirtless cowboy in her kitchen. She hands him a beer, he pops the top off with a ring on his middle finger. Lucy adds that to the list of things she found way too hot. 

“I can make up some dinner?” Lucy offers, she was pretty sure she could find something worth eating in the freezer. She also needed to make sure that she got Cooper some tallow too.

Cooper leans against the counter right beside her, taking a sip of the beer. Lucy can’t help but watch how he drinks it. “If ya don’t mind. Grandparents are taking the kidlets to d’pool and pizza after. Figured, we’re going to have a long day. ”

Lucy couldn’t help the smile that crosses her face, liking the idea of the two of them having an evening just for them. “Were you planning something, Cooper?”

Cooper’s sliding over so that he was leaning against Lucy, “Well, I was goin’ to ask ya out Ms. MacLean, but ya kinda jumped me.”

Lucy's head tipping back in a laugh, taking another sip of her beer. The two of them looked the other over, her eyes trying to memorize the way he looked out of his shirt.  “I don’t seem to remember you complaining,”

The man puts his beer down shifting so he is standing in front of Lucy, she swallows under his gaze. He leans forward putting a bare arm on either side of her, eyes wandering up her body, their face just inches from each other. Lucy’s breath catches in her chest as his hazel eyes stare into hers. 

“M’no, I certainly didn’t.” Cooper hushes, leaning forward to kiss her again. Lucy can’t help the little whine that escapes as she pushes back against him. Her hands ran up his arms, feeling his muscles twitch under the attention. He tastes so good, their tongues finding the other as they pull each other closer.

Her hands come up to cup his face, his hands resting on her thighs, fingers gripping against the flesh there. Lucy lets her legs open so that Cooper can move closer to her. He breaks the kiss, moving down along her jaw, small kisses down her neck. Lucy whimpers as he licks down her neck, his large hands rucking up her shirt. The callous on his fingers makes her body vibrate as he touches over her skin. 

“Cooper,” Lucy whimpers, her hands running up into his hair, as his hands cup her breast through her bra. “M’maybe we should-” His head ducks down, mouth going along her stomach. It feels so good, but it’s so fast. “Cooper, we shouldn’t-”

His teeth sink into her flesh, “Fuck- Ow- Cooper-” Lucy tries to pull him away but he bites in deeper, Lucy can feel her skin tearing. The sound of teeth in flesh, the wet sticky pop, her face twisting in a grimace. 

Lucy is scrambling, a scream finally leaving her throat at the pain, trying to get him off of her. “Stop. Stop-p it.” Lucy cries out, her hands finally pushing him off of her. The skin is not skin anymore, but rough and lizard-like under her hands. Cutting into her palm as she does her best to get it off of her. 

It’s not Cooper. Looking up at her, with blood painting its chin like a crimson river, is something that looks like Max. Its features are the same, but eyes instead of brown glow like orange flames, skin darker than shadows. Skin Covered in layers and layers of never-ending shifting scales that move in the light. A bloody grin spreads across its face. There are too many teeth, so sharp, in neverending rows, the pink spit glistening as it grinned up at her. Stomach oozing blood over her pants and dripping on the floor. 

“Just wanted a taste.” It growls at her, suddenly lunging forward to latch onto her neck.

Lucy is howling and fighting to get it off her struggling, as she falls to the floor. Her body protested as she hit the ground with a thud, the whole room going dark. She is pushing and struggling, but it’s soft now. Her hands are not grabbing at scales but material, eyes adjusting to the new surroundings. She was on the floor of her bedroom; chest heaving as she tries to make sense of where she was, and how she got there. 

Pushing the blanket off of her, she takes in the room around her. Her bedroom, she had fallen off the bed and landed on the floor. Lucy flips on the light and looks down, pulling up her shirt to look at her stomach. Hands running over where there should be torn tissue, before going up to her neck. Nothing. 

It had felt real, she could still feel the way it’s teeth had dug into her, the pain that had shot through her body. Looking at the bed Lucy expected to see blood, expected to see something. Throwing off the sheets there was nothing but sweat stains. 

Lucy collapsed onto the floor, her body trembling at the memory. It looked so much like Max, but it was all wrong. His face had been too round, eyes too far apart, hair too spiky, so many teeth. The eyes, orange fire-filled eyes, glowing like embers burning into her soul like hot ash on ice. Her hands scramble to the side of her table gabbing for her phone. 

For the first time, she doesn’t hesitate, hitting Cooper’s number. Pressing the phone to her ear, she hadn’t even looked at the time.

***

Cooper was there in a matter of minutes, Lucy opening the door for him, still in a state of shock. He had immediately gathered her up into his arms, hugging her tight against his chest, refusing to let her go until he got her over to the couch. He had her sit, covering her with several blankets, before moving into the kitchen. A hot cup of coffee with hot chocolate was put in front of her, along with some toast. He slid in beside her, bundling her up and tucking Lucy into his side. Her hands wrapping around him as she shivers, her whole body felt like it was frozen.

“You doing okay, sweetheart,” Cooper murmurs, his voice rumbling against the side of her head. Lucy could feel herself melting into his side, wanting to find some way to stay there forever.

Lucy swallows, nodding, “Just-” She wasn’t even sure how to put it all into words. It wasn’t exactly normal to have eighties horror movie dreams every night. “Nightmares have been really bad.” 

Cooper rubs his hand down her arm, Lucy lets her eyes close for a moment and enjoy the comfort.“How often have you been having them?”

Lucy snuggled in closer, reaching for the coffee mug and taking a sip. The warm caffeine and chocolate drink heating her insides. “Since the house got ransacked, it’s been nightly.”

Cooper’s chest grumbles at the words, arms somehow pulling her closer to him. “What was it about?”

“I don’t, I-” Lucy takes a sip of more coffee, before telling him what she’d dreamt about. Not skipping any details, the warmth of the coffee and his body made it easier to get it off her chest. 

Cooper hums, he takes his hat off, setting it beside him on the couch, hand running into his hair. He scratches at the stubble for a second. “Well, that wasn’t the dreams I’d hope you’d have of me.”

Lucy smacks his stomach at the joke, a small smile passing on her lips at the jest, “You think I like this? I’d much prefer no dreams, or well other dreams.”

Cooper grins, Lucy pouting a little, as he chuckles, “No, I don’t think that, I do worry about the nightmares. Can’t ‘member the last time I had a night-terror. Why you’re tired all the time?”

She nods, her eyelids weighing heavy despite the coffee and mind-bending visions.“I feel like I am losing my mind, Cooper.” 

“You’re not goin’ crazy, I think ya need sleep. Maybe some time away.” Cooper mumbles into her ear, pushing hair out of her face. “Why don’t ya let me take ya to my home.”

Lucy’s brows furrow, she didn’t want him to leave, but she also felt like she should stay. Why did she want to stay? The nightmares never stopped her, the shadows, the taping, the knocking? Yet the thought of leaving made her stomach turn, but when Lucy left she felt lighter. 

“You promise you don’t think I am going crazy?” Lucy whispers, wondering how much he would believe. How much did she even believe? None of this made sense, not really. 

He shifts so he can look right at her, eyebrows making his forehead wrinkle.“I promise I don’t think’ya’re goin’ crazy. Anymore than am goin’ crazy.”

“I feel like I am supposed to be here, even with all the nightmares, the shadows, the house being tossed. I keep comin’ back.” Lucy states, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket. Saying it out loud made it seem even more ridiculous than it had in the confines of her mind.

Cooper nods, placing the mug on the coffee table, hand running up and down her arm more. “It’s not surprisin’, this place is your home. It’s where ya grew up.”

“It’s not just that,” Lucy said, sitting up a bit, clutching at the mug, trying to hold onto some shred of reality. “It’s like something is pulling me here. Like I can’t leave.”

“So, leavin’ would probably be wise,” Cooper replies, his hand finding hers. “You’re sleep-deprived, runnin’ on fumes, Lucy. We have a spare room ya can stay in. Until ya can catch up on sleep, have a better view on thin’s with a clear head.”

Lucy sat back, the thought of being off the farm made her stomach twist, but she also needed sleep. Actual sleep sounded amazing, to not feel like she was burning at both ends. 

She nods her head finally. “Yeah, maybe I do need to leave.” 

***

Lucy was sitting at her family's dinner table, watching the kids outside to play on the deck. She had slept most of the day away, her exhaustion not feeling nearly as pressing as it usually did. The spring air was warm today, the hints of summer shifting in the air. She’d slept most of the day, Cooper had brought her to his place at about three am, the two tiptoeing upstairs. Initially, he’d offered her the spare bedroom, but after opening the door and seeing a pile of laundry, his room was the next best. Cooper had insisted on sleeping downstairs, despite Lucy’s best attempt to get him to stay. Traumatizing the children wasn’t high on her list. She was a little peeved he hadn’t woken her up, but she was also grateful for the extended rest. 

Stephanie sat down across from her, glancing out at the kids. They were running back and forth across the deck, possibly paying tag. “How’s it going, Lucy.”

“I am doing okay,” Lucy lies, there was no reason anyone needed to know any more about her problems. “Did you ever talk to Betty?”

“Oh! Yes, Betty.” Stephanie smiled, digging through her phone. “I sent her the photos.” She lets out a sigh, “Unfortunately no dice. Seems like it’s still a mystery.”

“Dang was hopin’ we’d get somethin’ more,” Cooper said, sitting beside Lucy. She desperately wants to crawl onto his lap and fall asleep, but instead, she shuffles a little closer. Steph watching the two of them closely, one eyebrow up. 

“Yeah. probably something diggin’ like you said.” Steph says, shutting her phone off and leaning back into her chair. “Had any more weird stuff happen?” 

Lucy shook her head, not wanting to get into the details, “Nope, hoping it stays that way really.” 

Bert sat down beside Steph leaning in to give her a quick kiss, “Y’all heard about the Roths.”

Cooper and Lucy looking at each other, shaking their heads. It wasn’t like they had had a free moment lately.

“Last night something came and killed two calves. Did some damage to some of the cows too.” Bert sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Like we needed more loss this year.”

Lucy's mind ran over the property map. The Roth's had a section leased from her that was back half on parkland and half onto her farm. There was also the nightmare last night.

“Which section was it?” Lucy asks, already knowing the answer.

“The section southwest of your place, actually,” Reg's brows furrowing. “Weird huh.”

“Do you know what time?” Cooper asks, his hands taping at the table.

Lucy realizing that Cooper was also putting two and two together. 

“Not sure, I know it was overnight.” Reg replied, “Why? Something happened with you guys too?”

Lucy swallowed, her hands going to cover her stomach. The feeling of her flesh ripping out, the haunting image of its eyes, the sound of its voice. 

“Nothing of note, we did have a mummified calf. But Barry figures it was just a bad pregnancy.” Cooper shrugs, the action supposed to be of disinterest, but his shoulders stay tight. Lucy is happy that he didn't bring up her nightmares until she got some more sleep it wasn’t worth mentioning. Right? 

“Maybe it's the weird spring. Warming up too fast. Animals reacting to it,” Steph adds, her hand covering Reg's. Her eyes looking between the two of them. 

Cooper is up and moving as the sliding door opens, Mathias holding a frog in his hand. The little boy had a grin from ear to ear as he holds it up to show his Dad the little critter he'd found.

“Can't bring it in here, buddy. Why don't we go take it to the pond,” Cooper tells him with a smile, petting the little creature his son held up. Lucy smiling as the two wander out of sight.

“So how long you two-” Steph raises an eyebrow, with a cheshire smile,

“Been a thing?” 

Lucy’s cheeks burn at the words, not realizing how obvious she had been. “No. Well. Yes. But not that long. Didn’t realize I was that transparent..” 

The couple chuckle, Steph smiling at her cousin, as she squeezes Reg’s hand. Free hand waving at Lucy as if it was nothing.

“You both need a little light in your lives,” Reg states smiling at Lucy, before looking at his wife. 

“Keeping things quiet for now. Haven't really talked about it much.” Lusy confesses, Marge coming over to sit at the table.

“Keeping what quiet hon?” Marge questions, holding a cup of tea in her hands. Cooper comes back in through the sliding door, walking over and kissing Lucy on the cheek. Marge chuckles and makes an ahh sound, Lucy doing her damndest not to slide under the table. 

“As long as you're both happy,” Harris says, patting Lucy on the shoulder. Lucy having a hard time keeping her cool, it wasn’t as if they’d put a label on things. They’d kissed once for crying out loud.

“Could I speak to you for a moment, Lucy?” Harris asks, kissing Marge on the top of her head before moving towards the hallway.

“Absolutely,” Lucy smiles, looking back at Coope who nods before following her Uncle into the big house. 

Down past the bedrooms a door leads into a well-lit office, the far wall has three large windows that face out into the backyard and forest line. A large old desk sat in the middle, along with several large filing cabinets and bookshelves. The room was bright against the dark wood, space big enough for two large overstuffed chairs beside the bookcases. On a well-worn stool were three faded bankers' boxes. Lucy recognizes her Grandpa's handwriting on the front. Harris puts a big hand on top of one rotating so he is facing Lucy.

“Me and Margie have,” He pauses looking out the large windows towards the forest. “Debated about whether we should give you these. Tim asked me to burn them. But it didn't feel right.”

Lucy crossed her arms, hugging herself a little as she looked at her Uncle. His usual nonchalant demeanor now scrunched together in tight lines across his face. Pacing back and forth in front of the window as he spoke. 

“These are Tim’s journals. Going back to a month after your Dad and Uncle went missing.” Harris replies, Lucy, feels a wave of dread wash over her as he moves over to his filing cabinet.

“They didn't go missing- '' Lucy goes to reply, Harris placing a newspaper in front of her. Headline read Two men killed in farm accident. “Yeah, this is what Tim showed me.”

“Flip to page four,” Harris said, Lucy did as he asked, unable to get a read on his emotions. Page four has a smaller blurb, Search for brothers ends. Lucy reads through the blurb, a cold pool of dread weighing in her guts. 

“They went missing in the forest. In the forest around my house.” Lucy whispers, her hands shaking as she rereads the words. “They never found the bodies.”

Harris meets her eyes as she looks up at him, “What is going on?” Lucy demands dropping the paper on top of the boxes. “Why? Why? Did no one tell me?”

“Tim made us promise,” Harris said, placing his big bear paw-sized hands on her shoulder, it felt like the weight of the news pressing down on her. “He didn’t want you or Norm to know. He figured that if you thought they were dead you could move on. In ways he never let himself move on.” 

Lucy moves away from Harris, a deep sense of betrayal washing over her. “You’re telling me he didn’t think they were dead? It’s been decades since they went missing.”

Harris had sat himself down in one of the overstuffed chairs. “We searched and searched for weeks. Even after search and rescue stopped, stuf-,” He rubs one of his big mitts across a day's worth of stubble. “Stuff happened during the search. Stuff that doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

Lucy sighs, flopping into the chair beside her Uncle, “Could we not be vague, please? I can handle whatever happened then.”

“While we were searching, people heard things.” Harris’s face went pale.

“They kept hearing Hank call out, or Shaun. It sounded like they were close, but we could never find them. It would go quiet for days, then Me and Tim would go out and hear them again.”

Lucy swallows, “Like it was calling you there.”

Harris looks at her, a knowing look passing over his face. “It scared some of the volunteers. Hearing them, but never finding them. Then a week before your Mom checked out it stopped. These journals are the first time I even had any idea that it had continued after you both got there.” 

“We spent our entire childhood in and out of those woods.” Lucy’s voice was raised, her heart thudding in her chest. “Why would he let us in there if he thought it was dangerous?”

Harris looking older than his year. “Lucy. If I thought you were in any danger I would have taken you and Norm out of there.” Lucy stands there staring at him, anger subsiding at the honesty in his words. “No one. Not one of us. Thought you were in any danger there.”

Lucy swallows, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “Once you kids arrived, Tim didn’t share anything. I thought. I thought he was dealing with the loss of his sons. In his own way, never finding the bodies made him want to hold on to hope. So I let him. Then when he got the cancer diagnosis he brought me these boxes. Telling me to burn them once he was dead. That it would all be over, I didn’t know what he meant. But it was like a weight had finally been lifted off of him. ” Lucy shifts in her chair, unsure how to feel. “When your place got tossed I pulled them out, I read a few.” Harris shifts in his chair, staring at the boxes. “I don’t know what I was expecting but you should read them.”

“What is in them?” Lucy pushes, feeling like she is waiting for a bomb to go off. Her hold on the world was sliding, and she wasn’t sure if she would make it.

“Memories, stuff about your childhood. But also. Other stuff. Stuff I don’t know if I can believe.” Harris’s voice going soft. “I should have told you a long time ago and I am sorry for that. But maybe this will help, maybe put things to rest finally.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

PART EIGHT

Tag list: @toogaytofunctiondangit , @hiddlebatchedloki , @whatsorceressisthis @dichromaniac @autumncryptids

*I am gonna say we are onto act 2... it's only gonna get darker from here < 3

**As always likes, comments, shares are soooo appreciated, you can find me Ao3 as well

** Want to be on the tag list let me know

[sakuraryomen01]

Valentino /Sukuna Ryomen x Reader/ .o9

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, Gojo getting a drink of water and healing up his cheek, soft! sukuna, fairly fluffy morning with sukuna and gojo, gaming with geto, a new pov!

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 4.256k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 .11 .12 .13 .14 .15 .16 .17 .18 .19 .20

a/n:: not only am I starting to cook something up in my lil pea brain, i am making more fanfictions on wattpad as well! i don't know if i've let y'all know that yet but i felt i needed to tell you! there's going to be some only-wattpad reads on there (unless taken down ofc) that are hopefully gonna be good!

. . .

Thank you for reading this! Enjoy!

. . .

At first, Gojo thought that the night had started pretty decently.

He got a few new numbers at a party with Geto, aka his best friend, and a quick blow job from a lil blonde in the bathroom. He can’t exactly recall where the loo was since he was just a smidge drunk. Normally, his head would be throbbing from the alcohol within a few minutes, but it was just a light buzz. Either way, the end of the night didn’t turn out that way sadly.

He had waddled on home after Geto dropped him off at the male’s dormitory to go park, his bunned up hair and silver rings flashing in the lamplight of a pole before he spun off to the student’s designated parking lot.

Gojo had started walking back, fumbling with his keys and phone. A drunken smile on his face while he hiccuped and a coo eliciting his throat, although he looked up and saw a very sexy silhouette walking his way from his base of origin. Quickly though, he saw that it was just you, a very flustered little mess walking from the building in your casual attire. Adorable.

Messing with you was like Gojo’s favorite pastime.

He stumbled over as best he could towards you, seeing just over his shifted sunglasses with the smallest of smiles on your face. But, it disappeared and changed into a concerned gasp. Gojo felt a soft hand on his forehead, though was somewhat shocked that you had the potential to reach such a height. Though he was leaning forward, sloppy and dirty this Satoru was.

He heard you speak, but the first half was blurred. You had asked him a question out of concern. “..Are you high, drunk, or sick?”

“My girl, you're judgy so muchy~ Let me live without demands!” Gojo said in a very matter of faculty way, at least that’s what he thought. Although, he was more curious as to why you were at the male’s dorm. It wasn’t a tutoring night, was it? Oh?

Maybe something else was happening? Hm? Sounds exciting and gossip worthy.

Sadly, there was very little to offer as you fixed him up before patting his shoulder and parting ways. Well, at least that’s how it was going until a pink haired blurr rushed over and there was a loud crack sound. There was also a thump sound, but Gojo’s eyes had already closed and a groan was leaving him before everything went black.

⇦ 🃍 🃎 ⇨

“You’re kidding me, right? You had to knock his ass out?”

What..?? Who?

“He was kissing your cheek, what was I supposed to do?!”

Oh, so like a pervert? Huh, I wonder who that is..

“It’s Satoru Gojo, he’s not that big a pervert, idiot! Honestly, now he’s going to have a sore jaw or something worse!”

Gojo’s hearing was definitely coming back, there was no ringing anymore. That’s a win. And there’s two people fighting over him, one of them was a girl– he could tell. Also win. The other was a guy. Still a win, but it depends on how he looks. Either way, Gojo’s eyes slowly began to open and the light of the tv was starting to register for him. The room he was in was a living room, with a blanket poorly draped over his middle and left leg.

It wasn’t that big a deal though, seeing as he was tall as fuck and not many blankets covered him now.

“..Mghh..” He grumbles, pressing his brows together and lifting a sore hand up to his cheek. Feeling the damage, there was just a sore ache and a bump. But thankfully, whoever found him gave him an ice pack for the swelling. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Oh he’s awake?” A man’s voice rings through Gojo’s ears and there’s a sudden twinge of annoyance with it. “Finally. He’s stinking up my couch.”

“You’ve gotten really dramatic,” A woman’s voice spoke back, a sigh of annoyance before stepping over to check on the currently disgruntled Gojo.

Gojo’s eyes managed to adjust to the light and landed on you, smiling and reaching up to pat your thigh. “Oh, so you are the one fighting with some guy over me. I’m touched.”

You chuckle at this before removing the ice pack, checking his jaw and cheek before returning it to its spot. Looking over at the man at the kitchen counter, Gojo recognized the pink fluffy hair and sat up. Seeing a very ruffled freshman with drooping eyelids and resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. Eyes glued to Gojo and you being close with a slight annoyance on his face.

I mean, of course he would. You’d be mad if you knocked someone’s lights out and they were moved into your living room to recover.

“So, can he go now?” Sukuna muttered, pressing his brows together and letting out another sigh of annoyance. Clearly Sukuna didn’t like having other guys over. It’s giving, no friends?

“Just relax,” You said, giving Gojo’s head a pat and huffing. “He’s not that bad of a stay.”

A dark look crossed the pink haired punk's face at the mention of Gojo, but it quickly faded as he made his way over to the kitchen’s fridge. He pulled out what seemed to be either a beer or a soda can and cracked it open, taking a sip and walking over. Letting his free black nail painted hand sit comfortable on his hip, looking down at the situation with a disapproving glare.

Gojo chuckled weakly at this and sighs, rubbing his jaw and returning the glare. “What~ Don’t trust me?”

“Not really,“ Sukuna replied flatly and grumbled, lowering his drink from his lips and nodding towards his room. “Either way, she’s gonna be sleeping in there. You.. You just stay there. I’ve heard about you and your moments with girls.”

While you sat there, watching the obvious alpha vs alpha moment– total cringe by the way– you laughed and grabbed some blankets and pillows that decorated the couch and started getting the space ready for two men to sleep in. 

“Boys,” Is all you said while you roll your eyes, taking the bundle of warmth into the next room while the said boys continued their little staring contest.

You quickly made a place for Gojo and Sukuna to both sleep in the living room, although everything in your mind said to just switch with Sukuna instead. You couldn’t go into Sukuna’s room, it’s too embarrassing and personal wasn’t it? For him at least?

Nonetheless, you finished setting up your bed and quickly making sure with Sukuna that it was absolutely alright to sleep in there, you badgered him into watching three different horror movies with Gojo. Picking between the three though, it was a little tougher than you had planned it to be.

“Friday the 13th is one of the dumbest horror movies,” Sukuna said, arms crossed on his end of the coffee table.”I like seeing tits as much as the next guy, but Nightmare on Elm Street has more story.”

Oof, you got him there, Sukuna.

“At least Friday the 13th is better than Halloween!” Gojo whined in response, lifting up the movie’s case and shaking it. Pointing at the label, right under the “uncut” bit of it. “At least it’s not this garbage! This has almost no plot other than a psycho chasing after his baby sister like a weirdo.”

True, true..

While the boys continued to rant and grumble, you stood from your cushion on the floor and grabbed the movie you had chosen. It was fairly recent, kinda creepy and gross, and with a dancing clown. Opening the case, the crack caught the attention of the two guys at the table and you pop in the DVD. There was a triumphant smile on your face as you made your way to the kitchen and grabbed three bowls and spoons.

“What did you put in?” Sukuna asked, his brows furrowed in obvious annoyance. “We agreed we would be coming to a decision together.”

You shrug and pull out a big tub of ice cream you had purchased earlier when Sukuna had gotten sick. “Y’all keep bickering so I decided to choose mine. It’s a little spooky, a little gross, and has a clown in it.”

The white haired, blue eyed, slightly drunk Gojo shuddered and pressed his brows together. He had seen this movie with Geto before and the fear inside him made him cringe. “Really? It? Did you have to choose that creepy movie?”

Sukuna waves a hand, watching you put ice cream into the bowls from the massive tub you had bought. “Hold on, is it the 1990 version or the 2019 one?”

You sigh and shake your head as you finish putting up the ice cream and make your way over to the table. Placing the bowls on the table and making at least one of the boys smile, while sitting between them and lifting the remote to skip through the previews that were already playing. Sukuna grumbles under his breath, something he appears to be doing often, and you play the movie. The scene starts on a thundering day in Derry, the gray sky giving an ominous feel to the already creepy music that was playing. The camera pans to a large and abundant home that held two brothers, Billy the oldest, and Georgie the youngest. 

The pair are currently working on a paper boat, Billy smiling once he finishes and turns to his little brother. Asking him to go and get some wax to finish their little paper boat, but Georgie complained until he was finally convinced to go get the wax.

During this, Gojo had managed to scoot his way over to join you and face the TV screen. Actively scooping his ice cream with a childish gleam in his eye as he watched the movie, while Sukuna sat somewhat farther away, side eyeing the both of you with a huff and an upset look on his pouty face. While you wanted to tease and make fun of the face, you stayed quiet as the movie played on.

The iconic 2019 scene with Georgie and Pennywise started, the clown being played by the fabulous Bill Skarsgård. You smile and look between the two men before smirking and announcing suddenly;

“Bill is really pretty.”

The sudden confession earned you a confused side eye from the boys, their brows raising in perfect harmony. “Sorry?” Gojo started, still sucking on his cream covered spoon between his pink lips. You chuckle at the dumbfounded looks and stay quiet, letting their minds fester in confusion until the scene where Pennywise and Georgie meet and start to talk.

Sukuna’s tongue clicks at the cgi that plays later, making you giggle and lean back against the couch, continuing to munch on the ice cream and snuggling into your blankets. Smiling as the boys also got comfortable. Sukuna puts his bowl on the table once his dessert is gone, Gojo’s already on the table since he finished a while ago.

While you wanted to stay up and watch more movies with them, your eyes started to slowly close. And while the main group of the movie started getting hallucinations of Pennywise, and their darkest fears, you had fallen asleep. Head resting on Sukuna’s shoulder and thoroughly surprising him. 

Gojo glanced over with half his face behind the blankets and chuckles, smiling slightly at the cutesy scene before him. “Aren’t you two snuggly~? Kinda cute of you to act like that, punk.”

“Says the punk,” Sukuna grumbled back, brows pressed together in a quiet attempt to regain some dignity. Though, that didn’t come back as he lifted you into his strong and warm arms, biceps flexing under the weight. “I’ll get her to bed. You just.. don't touch anything."

Gojo lifts a hand and uses his other to make a cross across his chest, turning his attention back to the movie and letting Sukuna take you to bed. (But once Sukuna got back, he was definitely convinced that Gojo used it as an excuse to get more ice cream.) The trip wasn’t long, and Sukuna couldn’t help but glance down at your sleeping face before entering his own room, seeing your cute little lips still as plump as before. Doing that same pout they always did whenever you slept. 

The pink haired bad boy wasn’t particularly proud that he remembered your sleeping face from years ago, but he still did. It doesn’t matter anyways. Sukuna didn’t want to get cuddly anymore.

He’s not the kid he once was, the one that followed you around during school so that he could keep an eye on you. To protect you from all the other snot nosed fourth graders that dared side-eye you a certain way. That wasn’t the same Sukuna Ryomen that was carrying you to bed right now.

Once he had placed you on the mattress, he let his mind wander for a moment and he brushed his fingers lightly against your cheek. Pushing some stray hairs behind your ear with a small hum– he didn’t want to enjoy it, despite all the little holes inside him begging to.

With much restraint, Sukuna’s hand removed itself from your cheek. There was a weird twinge in his chest at this, his hand even clamping up and turning into a fist as he stood. Patting his shorts off though, the feeling soon left. But he felt it linger in his heart when he left the room and closed the door, walking back into the living room to see that Gojo had already claimed the couch and was nuzzling into a pillow asleep.

Woe is the one with no bed to slumber..

With a sigh, Sukuna gathered the empty bowls and went to wash them up in the sink. Letting the warm water from the faucet wash away all the bubbles and cloudy thoughts in his head. Watching the suds foam around his fingers and the sponge, wiping away the ice cream residue on the bowels and spoons. The urge to get a beer and fall in bed with you though was powerful, so all his restraint was holding him back from doing so.

“What the hell..” He muttered to himself, letting one of the spoons slip from his grip and clang in the metal sink. “Ah, shit..”

When did he become so soft? It’s been a month, hasn’t it?

Sukuna stills, squeezing the sponge lightly in his grip. Realizing that it took just a month– maybe even a few weeks– for you to already worm your way back into his heart. He didn’t want that, he didn’t need it. That little childish promise he made all those years ago was just some little dream he once had. It had no real meaning, no need to further investigate.

“..That’s it..” Sukuna says quietly to himself, rinsing off the bowls and spoons before putting them on the rack. Wiping off his hands and going to get a spare change of clothes quickly, making sure to keep quiet as best he can to not wake you or the punk on his couch.

He got his coat and his shoes, grabbing his keys and taking one last glance back at his now full dormitory. Grimacing at the pervert on his couch, and the girl in his bed, he left and locked up the apartment. Rushing down the hall, despite it being almost twelve at night, to find a girl willing to release himself on. Sukuna had to get you out of his head, he didn’t care how, he didn’t care who.

Letting you control over his heart was something he didn’t want you to do to him again.

⇦ 🃍 🃎 ⇨

After you had woken up in your childhood best friend’s bed, you were quick to clean up the room as best you could before leaving to ask to borrow the shower. What you didn’t expect was to find Sukuna missing from his sleeping area on the floor. You were curious but didn’t want to call him, seeing as he was an adult and could take care of himself.

While you were anxious about using it without permission, you stripped in his room and got a towel to wrap yourself up in. Putting your dirty laundry and undies into the washing machine before heading into the bedroom to use the shower. You went to work washing your body, making sure to take care of your hair and face properly, even though you didn’t have your face washing items with you on hand.

Then again, you didn’t plan on staying the night at Sukuna’s dorm.

Now that you thought about it, sleeping in Sukuna’s bed was a lot more embarrassing than you thought. Letting your thoughts wander, you started to remember how warm the bed actually was. It was comfortable, with sheets as soft as clouds, and a pillow that hugged your face and relaxed your neck throughout the spine.

Blissfully remembering your sleep and the peaceful dreams that clouded them, you got out of the shower and dried off. Wrapping a towel around your chest, taking special care to make sure the slit of the towel was covered before leaving the bathroom only to be startled and slam the door closed just as quickly as you had opened it.

Sukuna. Behind the door.

“...What the hell?” His voice croaked out after a second– once you had finished screaming your heart out of course. “What are you doing in a towel?!”

“SHOWERING, OBVIOUSLY!!”

There was more silence between you two, before you cracked the door open to see Sukuna rummaging through his drawers for something. Completely shielding his view of you, which made your heart throb slightly. Doki Doki? You got out of the bathroom and squirmed in your spot by the door before Sukuna tossed a large shirt over his shoulder at you and grabbed some shorts as well. 

His brows pressed together with a gruff tone to his voice. “Go on, put them on.”

“Ah, Sukuna..” You blush slightly at the gesture, shaking your head when you catch the shirt. “R-Really, I’m okay–”

“I’m not letting you walk around with your pussy out. Put it on.”

The vulgarity in his words make your face flush bright red. Steaming so badly you swore you heard the sounds of a kettle whistling in your head. With a shaky sigh, you lift the shirt over your still damp hair and turn to face the bathroom. The cool fabric touches your skin, sending small waves of goosebumps across your arms and legs. Once the shirt was on fully, you pulled the towel out from underneath the shirt and patted down the bum portion and front a little before looking back to Sukuna.

“..N-Now the shorts.” He says calmly, averting his attention from you and tossing over the shorts, sitting on the bed with a hand covering a good portion of his face. “Hurry up. The breakfast I got for you and that twink is gonna get cold.”

“Oh? That’s where you went?”

Pulling up the shorts over your legs and waist, Sukuna nods and slowly starts making his way out of the room. Face still covered in what you could only imagine as pure embarrassment of the situation. Sorry Sukuna..

You made yourself look normal, drying your hair out and applying some lotion you got from the bathroom, before getting out of the room and into the main living area where Gojo was already up and rubbing his sore and sleepy eyes.

“Morning,” He said, a pout to his lip at the sudden disturbance of being awake. “Shower? You smell nice.”

You nod and pet his head, chuckling before heading over to the counter and looking at the breakfast Sukuna claimed to have brought home. He lifts a bag with a bright label and begins pulling out platters. The see-through lids reveal hotcakes with other assortments of breakfast items and some syrup. Sukuna placed these platters on the counter while you stood next to him and watched his movements.

Personally, he thought this was kinda cute. He wouldn’t tell you that though. He’s not that kind of guy to get all mushy over feelings.

So, he settles for a small pat on the head, a ruffling of your still damp hair and hums. “Grab a platter and some utensils. It’s messy too so get a few napkins.”

You raise a brow and look over at the pink haired man, pursing your lips. “I’m not a messy eater, you know that!”

“That’s not what the younger you would say,” Sukuna teases, sitting at the couch– practically crushing Gojo’s legs– and flipping through channels on the TV until he found the news station. Letting your broil in your own embarrassment at the mention of your childhood eating habits.

“Y-You.. Just.. shut up.”

There was a triumphant smirk on his face. He won.

You gathered the remaining food and sat on the floor between the two, handing Gojo a platter as well and starting to eat. Giving thanks for the food before watching the TV as well, grumbling to yourself. “Can’t we watch some cartoons or something? It’s a Saturday!”

“Cartoons are for babies,” Sukuna responded while shoveling down a pancake. Whole. Like a damn snack. “I want to see the weather at least.”

“That’s so old of you,” Gojo huffed. “Be cool for once.”

Sukuna returned with an authoritative grunt and quietly watched the screen as the weather analysis was brought up. “Silence and eat.”

The forecast predicted sunshine during the morning and afternoon with relatively calm winds and decent heat. During the evening though, there was a slight chance of rainfall or a mild thunderstorm. It didn’t matter much to you, seeing as you’ll be at your dormitory gaming with Geto later.

“Nice, now you know what’s gonna happen,” You say, turning your attention back to Sukuna. His maroon eyes turned to you, glazed over with some kind of annoyance. You smirk and lift your hand over your shoulder for the remote, wiggling your fingertips slightly. “May I, sir?”

He takes a deep breath and hands over the remote and slowly goes insane as some cartoons were flipped to. Their annoying intro songs playing and driving him even deeper into a Hell he didn’t wish to go down.

⇦ 🃍 🃎 ⇨

That day during your classes, they felt like a fever dream.

You couldn’t put your finger on it. Everything went by in a blur, and you kept replaying the events of this morning in your head. Seeing Sukuna in such a calm state, it made your chest ache. You felt a small twinge at the thought of how he was every morning. Borderline obsessing over it. 

It wasn’t until you had a talk with Geto did you clear your head.

Kicking someone’s ass at Mario Kart was every child's gamer dream.

Geto’s fingers tapped at the buttons, as did you. Focused on the screen as you discussed your struggling, somewhat creative love life– slash friendship recovery. That’s what it was supposed to be in the first place.

“So.. what you’re saying is..” Geto trailed, turning a sharp corner on the rainbow bridge and grumbling. “..Sukuna saw the goods?”

Your cheeks burn a little and you pout your lips, clicking the toggles and buttons. “No.. He just saw me from out the shower in a towel. He also got breakfast, and then drove me to classes today too.”

Geto side eyes you with a small smile and hums. “Interesting.”

“And then he says to not worry about it and that he’ll return my clothing once they’re done by tomorrow ‘cause he’s going to the gym and he’ll swing by. Swing by? Not only does he do things like this for me, but he also let me keep one of his old shirts! He’s sending mixed signals all the time! He’s more confusing than most of my history homework.”

Geto nods, still focusing his game, he listens with a smirk to his face. His brain worked overdrive just imagining all the drama that was going on. To him, he knew what the problem was. No one told anyone anything, letting the problems arise and fester. Letting their feelings just bubble in their chests but never say anything.

Such a troubled couple. Just talk, not that hard.

“Well, my advice is to relax more around him,” He says quietly, rushing over the finishing line and turning to look at you. “If you let your guard down a little, he’ll open up more– I think anyways. Sukuna’s a tough person, just let him lean on you. He clearly needs that.”

You stare at Geto in silence, somewhat stunned by the advice before nodding a little.

“Alright.”

Geto nods and stands, heading to the kitchen and grabbing a drink to have before heading off to his dorm and going to sleep. You had turned off the console you both played on, removing the game as well and giving your goodnights. Geto returned the pleasantries and headed out, leaving you and your already sleeping roommate alone in the home.

You got to bed rather quickly, showering quickly and putting your things away, changing into your pjs and folding Sukuna’s clothes neatly into your chair. You rolled around in your bed before facing said chair and staring at them, fiddling with your pillow casing and pressing my brows together.

“Sukuna.. What are you thinking..?”

. . .

a/n: how is y'all doing today? i hope you're doing good ^^;; i am currently struggling with my gen psychology class, it's nothing fancy rn but omg does my brain hurt. anyways, if u guys read the top, i have a wattpad now! there's nothing special about it right now since it's got the current fanfictions on there but yeah wanted to lyk!!!

a/n (.2):: i finished my gen psychology class with a B! i'm literally so proud oml but now i gotta struggle with history ~~;;; also, i'm trying to get back into thr groove for writing my drabbles again ~~;; lmao i'm literally so used to writing for fanfictions right now XD

Chapter Song Theme: — Play Date / Melanie Martinez / lyric video

taglist: @mageyboo, @mzladyd , @mysticwonderlandangel, @sukunaspersonalflashlight, @kawaiipenguin20, @k-indie, @okkotsufav, @cafeinthemoon93, @pulchritxde, @bontenbunny, @deepinballs, @kleeboomed, @fiierytearzx, @wo-ming-bai, @instantgalaxysheep, @watyousayin, @z3r0art, @sukunaobsessed, @lik0, @sukunasfirstlove, @princesstiti14, @nemoyr, @ladywolf44005, @cat-mak20, @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn, @hxlalokidottir, @domainofmarie, @the-moongoddess, @dark-n-dirty-duchess, @agentdedf1sh, @sukunastoy, @lyn-soso, @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9, @heyitstacy, @lost-in-tokyo, @marksassybanana, @bozos-r-us , @p-3-4-c-h, @chaoticqueen33, @dxxny-loves-u, @l0tus-in-l0ve , @jiordeci, @opossum0-0, @gumisgirl

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[jodiellie]

Week 1 Evaluation

It's been a week since I've started this journey, so let's reflect on how the first week has been!

First of all, let's have a refresher on what my GOALS for this 30 days initially is~

Fixing my sleep schedule

Incorporate more physical activities (doesn't have to be exercising, can be stretches or walks!)

Drawing more often for practice

Sleep:

I'd say sleep wise, I'm slowly getting better at it. Though, there are moments where I couldn't get myself to sleep and ended up getting worse. But in general, I think I've made good progress than before I started on this journey, so good job me! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Physical activities:

I'm pretty proud of my progress for this! So far, I've managed to do something everyday for the past week to get my body moving! Whether it be actually following along exercising videos on Youtube or some stretching to ease some tension on muscles! Again, good job to myself uwu

Drawing:

Now this. I did NOT meet this goal at all during this entire week, which is a shame. I think I was focusing a lot on taking better care of my own body that the thought of taking care of my skill set kinda slipped my mind? Which, to be fair, is kind of expected since even trying to remind myself to do certain basic self care task is difficult in itself. So, it's okay, we'll just have to do better during the following week~

Extras:

Other extra stuff for my health that I think would I've done well is also finally taking my meds and vitamins. Though it's not consistent yet, I'm glad I finally was able to take them more than I was before. This goes for my water intake as well! Sometimes I would go on days without drinking any water at all, which is quite bad... But now that I'm trying to actively record down my days and what I've done to better my body, it serves as a reminder in itself to drink more water, so yayyy another great job done for me °ʚ(´꒳`)ɞ°

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Things I need to improve/add for the following week:

After a week into this journey, I think I'd like to adjust some of my goals and be a little more specific in what I want to achieve for hopefully the next week! This will help me be a little clearer with what I need to do and help myself feel good in the future >:)

Try to sleep 30 mins earlier than the last, but the latest time for me to go to bed would be 3am. I have been doing quite okay with only a few slips here and there on this. So hopefully by the end of the next week, I can somehow sleep around 12am instead.

Still moving my body every single day, but let's try to exercise 3 times this week for at least 30 minutes! It's been a long time since I've exercised that I forgot how good I always feel afterwards both physically and mentally. So yes, I'd like to challenge myself to actually do some exercise more often! ( *` • ω •´)ゝ

Since I have 0 progress on my drawing, I want to start slow and easy myself into it. Since it feels daunting (for some reason), let's try achieving at least 30 minutes per day for 3 days of art practice. Can be anything, like anatomy, color study, or even just my own personal art. As long as it reaches the goal I set, then it's good :>

[elmoees]

ミ★ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 ★彡 (jjk l)

summary. snippets of a summer with the jjk men <3

- word count. 1218

- contents. implied fem!reader, no use of (y/n), nicknames (pretty, baby, my love, ect), established relationships (boyfriend/husband), canon world but little is mentioned, non-kenjaku older!geto, mentions of megumi, mentions of tojis shady past life, minimal cursing, fluff drabbles so no warnings required!

- notes. first post of many! hopefully some y'all enjoy this

jjk ll part - haikyuu version - one piece version

ミ★ 𝘎𝘰𝘫𝘰 ★彡

You lie on the couch of your shared apartment as Satoru fetches drinks from the kitchen. The show playing in the background does little to distract you from the blazing heat of Tokyo summers. Even in his larger t-shirt, the cotton stick to you like a second skin. “Here ya go, Baby,” he says rolling the chilled glass across the back of your neck, hoping to relieve some of the discomfort brought on by the heat. 

“Mhm, thanks.” An appreciative hum is voiced as he plops back into his spot. 

His slender fingers trace up your side, as you both bask in a comfortable silence. The thrum against your body lulls you into sitting up beside the white haired male. Hoping the sugary iced drink would be the pick me up needed, you take it from your boyfriends grasp and sip it. “S’good… god, it’s so hot.” A whine escapes your lips as you lay your down on his shoulder with a pout. 

“I know, m’sorry. Damn aircon is breaking down again, I’ll get it fixed promise.” He raises his fingers to show them locked, with a big smile on his face. Damp hair stick to his forehead, and a flush had settled over his pale cheeks. He was hot too, in more ways than one. 

You roll your eyes at his statement, “You said that last year Toru, didn’t happen then either.” he lets out a gasp at the statement. “I was extra busy last year! The Jujutsu world needs me ya know,” it was your turn to scoff. 

“And I needed my air-conditioning fixed! It’s whatever though, ‘m gonna change.” You remove yourself from his hold, but Satoru keeps a hand on your wrist as you stand. 

“I love you!” 

ミ★ 𝘎𝘦𝘵𝘰 ★彡

“Sugu! C’mon, hurry up! We’re gonna miss it!” You run off ahead of Suguru, hoping to get to the beach before the sun sets. The man only smiles and shakes his head as he follows after, he had gotten you both there early for a reason. 

Lacing his hands with yours, he slows the pace to something more manageable. “We’re not going to miss anything, there’s still twenty minutes left.” The dark haired male can only laugh at the bursts of energy coursing through your body. “Enjoy this, you won’t miss a second.” Suguru begins to rub soothing circles into the back of your hand as you continue to walk to your destination. 

“But-“

“Nuh-uh, no buts, we’ll make it in time. Have a little trust, yeah?” The squeezes to your hand reinforces what your boyfriend is says. 

With a groan you comply, and the two of you continue on the path to the secluded beach. 

Suguru listens to your babble with an open ear. Well aware of how fast you want to feel the waves and see the ever setting sun. The conversation is fluid and he’s thankful for the moment of peace. Being a special grade sorcerer meant long hours and even longer days without seeing you, so this trip was a needed treat. 

Truthfully he could do this forever, be with you. “I love you, I hope you know that.” He kisses your hand gently, just barely grazing his soft lips over the bow of your knuckles. With a giggle, you reply “Of course I do, you wouldn’t have put up with me this long if you didn’t.” 

Walking out of the tree-line and onto the shore, he allows you to lead him out towards the water. You’ve never looked better, here in the golden light holding onto him - and never has he felt so at peace. 

So as the two of you finally face the setting sun, he feels that love too. 

ミ★ 𝘕𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪 ★彡

The weekend market was bustling as you and Kento continued to walk around it. Basket in hand, you stroll around to each stall with excitement. Fresh fruits and veggies for the week were always nice, and the added bonus of spending time with your husband was even better. 

“Would you like anything from this stand, My Love?” with a hand on your waist, Kento continues to skim through the vendors items. Leaning into his touch, you smile up at him, “You can’t ask that every time we see a new stall! We’d go broke if you bought everything I looked at.” 

His sigh turned into a small smile, “If I did, it’d be worth all the extra hours I’m taking on.” 

You rub at his arm, leading him away to look at flower cart. “You being here is all I can ask for, your work is too dangerous for me to ask more of you!” 

The blonde turns and places a kiss to the side of your head. Just as many others were in his line of work, he was selfish. Selfish for returning to the world of Jujutsu, for putting others before himself when you needed him, for wanting more time with you knowing any moment could be his last… 

“You could ask the world of me, and I’d give it to you no matter what.” you hum in agreement resting your head against his shoulder. 

“That’s sweet, but how about we settle for these flowers huh? No need for the world, you’re my world anyway.” 

ミ★ 𝘛𝘰𝘫𝘪 ★彡

From the kitchen window you watch as Toji continued to work on the yard. The garden was really starting to come together, and it wasn’t much thanks to you (not that your husband would ever say that). “Toji! Baby, do you want anything to drink?” You called through the open screen. 

“No thanks, Doll. ‘M Good,” he pushed back his hair to wipe at the sweat on his forehead. 

“Hmm, I’m bringing you some water! Last thing we need you fainting and Megumi seeing,” you brought him out a chilled glass of water, opting to feel his reddening cheeks. Toji’s large hands came to rest over your own, “I’m fine ya know,” he mutters. 

You huff instead, “Don’t even argue with me ‘bout this, I can worry! It’s not like you’re letting me help away.” 

The dark haired male runs his thumbs over the back of your hands, “And why would I let ma Doll, do any of this work? Soft hands like yours ain’t made for hard labor.” You let out another scoff, “It’s a few flower beds Toji.” 

“And I stand by ma point, let me do this for ya.” Gosh, what a stubborn man you married. 

Clearly he wasn’t going to let you win this argument, so it was pointless to try much harder. In the years you had known him, he had never been more present in your life and in your marriage up until recently. Maybe it was sad to say that, but the truth still stood. Toji was gone once, but he’s here now and that should be enough, right? Right… 

Looking to the side you nod. It was a bit embarrassing to be nervous of the man you love, but he’s different now. 

“Hey, look. I love you, ya know?” you did know. 

You lean into his touch and savor the moment. Maybe he’d be gone again in the morning, maybe he’d stay for longer, maybe he wouldn’t leave. For now though, this was enough, it had to be. 

“Mhm, yeah. I love you too,”

 ©elmoees 2023

[zmediaoutlet]

Sam wants to read but can't concentrate. He tries to eat but his stomach's a shriveled ball and it's pointless. He thinks about the decanter in the library but—that's not fair, and wouldn't work, and would just cause more problems besides.

He goes for a run. A short one, four miles. He concentrates on the rhythmic thud of his sneakers on the dirt roads out here among the farms and watches the bob of the pocket flashlight carving a pool out of the night. Thinks about that slice of light, curving strange midair and allowing one universe to glance sidelong into another, and in that other universe of dust and piled bone and fallen angels there might be—there's a chance at least that the inevitable wasn't inevitable after all—and if there's a chance, shouldn't they—?

Not tired exactly after but his mood's different, at least. After midnight; he dims the kitchen and library and main corridor lights. Presses open the door to Jack's room, quiet as he can, and the kid's curled on his side under the blankets. Hopefully sleeping. Hopefully didn't hear any of the argument, earlier.

He spends some time under the shower. Soaks the back of his neck and shoulders, tries to get tension to bleed out. Even the firehose pressure in here can't quite manage that but at least it's—better. He dries off and wraps a towel around his hips and goes through the dark corridors to his room, and—Dean's there, standing at the sink, brushing his teeth. Sam stands with his hand on the doorknob and is, for a second, entirely surprised.

"You gonna come in, or not," Dean says, garbled through foam. Sam rolls his eyes and shuts the door behind himself. A lamp on by the bed. At some point since they argued Dean's lost his jacket and boots; his gun's laid on Sam's desk, and one of their silver knives, and a scrap of paper. Sam picks it up while Dean's rinsing his mouth. James Turner, it says, and a phone number. "Missouri's son," Dean says, leaning on his elbows on the sink. He spits. "Patience's dad. Disowned her, I guess, but I figure—"

He shakes his head, shrugs. Runs more water, splashing his face, and then hangs there dripping. His back's a low curve, his head hanging heavy. Sam watches him drip. The shape of his shoulders. Sam wants to touch the small of his back and instead he turns and goes to his chest of drawers, finds pajama pants, a washed-to-softness shirt. "Jody said Patience is a good kid," Sam says. "She'll be all right."

"Save us from good kids," Dean mutters.

Sam shoves his hair back from his face, says, "Dean—" but when he turns Dean's already shaking his head, eyes closed, and Dean says, "I didn't—"

Didn't what? Dean licks his lips and then bites them very tightly between his teeth. There are a few things Sam could think to say but he waits, hands on his hips. A deep breath, so slow and deliberate it might have cost an organ or two, and Dean drags his hand over his face, folds his arms over his chest. Opens his eyes finally and looks somewhere not at Sam but through his torso, maybe.

"I don't got the juice for a knock-down drag-out," he says. "It's been a long…" He shakes his head, swallows. The hollows of him dark-pooled and his lips tight over something miserable and his eyes, when he finally does glance up and meet Sam's, this raw long shadow of grief that stretches back past today and back to that carved slice of impossible light, and maybe back past that to—any number of things, really. Take your pick. "I wanna go to sleep."

It's not an apology, nor a concession. Just as well—Sam's not ready for either. But he knows that exhaustion that starts somewhere in the marrow and spreads through the whole body. Anger the only thing that pushes it back and when the anger's done it just seeps through, insidious, faster. He bites the inside of his cheek and lifts a shoulder. "So sleep," he says.

He brushes his teeth, too. Drinks a glass of water. In the mirror he watches Dean strip mechanically out of his overshirt and unbuckle his belt and peel out of his jeans. He sits on the edge of the bed and rubs his hands over his face again, long repetitive strokes like maybe he'd open his eyes after and find the world different. If only.

Sam tugs back the blanket on his side and says, hey, and Dean sniffs and lifts up enough that the covers can get pulled down. Then Sam gets into the bed, and says, "If you're gonna stay, stay," and it comes out harsher than he meant it to but it gets Dean to lie down at least, on his side with his back to the lamp. His head on the other pillow and his shoulders pulled high.

Sam sighs. Twists to turn off the lamp. In the dark he pulls the blanket up over both of them and lies on his side, too, a few inches between their bodies but not enough space that he can't feel Dean's heat. They haven't slept in the same bed since Jack—just, since Jack. He reaches out and touches the middle of Dean's back. Warm, and solid. Dean's ribs expanding on his breath. Sam curls an arm under his head, under his pillow. Dean's shirt smells like burnt things. Annoying how comforting that is. His hand on Dean's back curls into a fist, knuckles pressing into Dean's spine, and Dean makes this soft noise, and Sam's going to sleep better than he's slept in weeks. That's annoying, too. He closes his eyes and sinks into it, listening as his brother does the same.

[bookishtheaterlover7]

a/n: Hello, my fabulous Readers! It's been a hot second since I last wrote a fic. And I can honestly say, that I've been distracted by the whole Chris Drama and Fiasco. But that doesn't mean that I haven't been writing fics. I actually have a few lined up, that are definite WIPs, so stay tuned. In the meantime, I hope y'all will enjoy this fic.

Which I'm happy to dedicate to @cutedisneygrl, Happiest Birthday to you, girl! Thank you for always lending an ear, and also happily sharing your fics with us. You're awesome, and I hope you enjoy this fic. Sorry if it's a little late.

And to @royalwriteroftheuniverse, for being one of the best friends, I could ask for on here. You're one of the best, and honestly, you both deserve the best. ❤❤❤❤❤

Yes, this will be a thing now. Some of my fics will be dedicated to my friends, family, or even the fans like me, who are writing this. 😆🥺 So, without further ado, enjoy this fic. Hopefully it isn't too cringey.

Steve Rogers x civilian!Reader

Requested: Yes

WARNINGS: None really... No mention of Y/n, Steve is a big softie, Y/n is kind of sad for most of the fic, food(?), feelings of loneliness...

Enjoy!

I'm using this gif, because it's the one with my most favorite button-up, that Steve wears in the entire MCU. Feel free to comment what's your most favorite Steve casual wear in the entire MCU.

*Y/F/C/D = Your Favorite Cold Drink

The clock continued to tic the hours away, as you laid on your bed. Trying to will it to move faster, and end the long day. Time always seemed slow during the tough days. Even longer lately, what with Steve being out on seemingly endless weeks of missions.

You really couldn’t complain, considering that that is his job. And it was all for the good of the future. Your future, together. Steve has been open about building a safe and happy future. And being able to secure it, one bad guy at a time.

You chuckle at the thought. Remembering the night Steve said those very words to you...

You had called an hour before, needing to vent. Your work day was one of the worst you’ve had in a while, and Steve, hearing the frustration, and weariness in your voice, took it upon himself to try and make it better. He arranged the pillows to frame your bed, pulled the curtains closed, put the lamp on its dimmest setting, grabbed the comfiest blankets, and made a little love nest for you two love birds.

He nervously looked over every little detail. Fluffing up the pillows, smoothing down the bed sheets, pulling at the curtains, double and triple checking everything. Luckily, you announcing your arrival, broke his intense focus.

Steve rushed off. Tripping and stumbling on his own feet, regaining balance, and taking another look around, before stumbling once more, and finally hopping down to you. Not that you were having any of it. Immediately assuming that Steve had prepared something romantically sexy. Which, in Steve’s opinion, was sweet but nothing romantically sexy about his plans.

But at Steve’s insistence, and puppy dog eyes, you were, albeit begrudgingly on your part, lead upstairs to your converted room.

“You sounded so sad on the phone earlier, I wanted to do something special. Try and make your day a little bit better.”

You smiled as tears slowly filled your eyes. Jumping into Steve’s arms, as he picks you up, and puts you on the bed, to rid you of your work clothes. Slipping you into your favorite button-up of his.

You’d stay in the love nest for hours. Snuggled into the love of your life, except for the few times, he’d get up to get food and water. Insisting that he should get them, not wanting you to get up and leave your little bubble.

Few minutes into your meal of a shared bowl of chocolate covered fruits, Steve’s phone rang. Causing him to step out, to answer it. Not coming back until a few minutes later. His expression crestfallen, but trying his best to keep up a mask of happiness so as to not drag your already down mood. Ofcouse,you knew him well.

“They’re calling you away on another mission?” You asked, after a few minutes of silence.

“Yes. But it’s a necessary evil, if I want to build our future.” Steve sighed, giving you a weary smile.

“And I do want to build it, one bad guy at a time.” He continued, taking both of your hands in his.

“Are you proposing to me right now, Rogers?” You laughed.

“Believe me, Doll. When I propose, you’ll know...” Steve smiled.

“Well, until then, I’ll take a few of your shirts. But even after you ask, you might never get them back.” You declared teasingly, grabbing a strawberry and running off, as Steve gave chase.

You sigh and get up out of bed, deciding to go down to your living room to watch a rom-com with your over-sized stuffed bear. But not before grabbing your favorite button-up shirt, that Steve left at the foot of your bed just before he drove off to the compound for his mission, a few days ago. You pressed it to your nose, inhaling the comforting scent of aftershave and wood, something that was uniquely Steve. And changed into it, buttoning up most of it, and leaving some undone.

You made your way down the stairs and into your kitchen, grabbing some leftovers stored in tupperwares, in your fridge, and preparing to heat them in your microwave. You stepped into your living room, turning on the TV. and arranging the throw pillows, blanket, and your bear, so that your couch has prime comfiness, all before the microwave dinged to signal that your dinner is warm.

You quickly grabbed it, utensils, and Y/F/C/D from the kitchen, carefully carrying them in your arms, and using your elbow to turn off the light in your kitchen. Leaving your living room lamp, and your TV as your only remaining light source. Creating some sort of ambiance that allowed for optimal comfort once you wrapped your shoulders in your blanket, placed your bear on your lap, and pressed play on your movie, before grabbing your food and settling in for the night.

A few hours later, the roar of a Harley can be heard in the distance. A bit toned down, due to Steve knowing that most, if not all of the residents of his neighborhood were soundly and safely tucked in their beds.

The mission was shorter than expected, and for that he silently thanked God. Because he was able to come home to the woman he loved sooner than anticipated, and will be able to surprise her with the best gift he could ever give her. Him.

He shut off the engine, as soon as he arrived and parked on the driveway. Removing his helmet, grabbing his things that he had strapped to the back of his motorcycle, and grabbing his keys to unlock the front door.

The first thing he noticed was the TV was on (hard not to when he noticed the dim glow coming from the living room). The one thing he didn’t expect as he was reaching for the remote was the sight of you holding your bear, the very over-sized bear that he had won for you at the Fair last month, close to you, one of your cozy blankets draped over your shoulders, and the collar of his button-up peaking from under the blanket.

He chuckled at the adorable sight, but sighed softly. Knowing you well enough, that you had a rough day, just by needing any semblance of him near, and needing every aspect of your cozy cocoon in order to feel better. He knew what was needed, and it was something he definitely needed for himself too.

And so, he put his bag and shield down to the side of the recliner to the right of the TV, out of the way, so that none of you would trip on it the next morning. Removed his leather jacket, and placed it on the arm of the couch by your feet, before kneeling down by you, to get on the proper position to be able to pick you up, and carry you bridal style. Hopefully without fully rousing you from your sleep.

You were half awake as Steve slowly made his way up the stairs, to your shared room. The blanket still wrapped around your body, essentially wrapping you up in a burrito. You felt the need to find more warmth and comfort from the solid wall of muscle that you were resting against. And so snuggled needily into it, much to Steve’s amusement.

And that is why he decided to remove his shoes, before going into bed with you a minute later. Not wanting you to spend even a minute without your human teddy bear. He could change and take a shower in the morning, he just knew you both needed the other near.

“I’ve got you, Doll... And I’m not going anywhere...”

a/n: Hope y'all enjoyed it. I'm kind of nervous uploading this, and I'm also worried that it's cringey. Love y'all, Bookies! Stay sane, especially with things coming up in the Fandom soon.

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Chris Evans Characters Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[sunflowersandsapphires]

You're my sweetheart

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Cute little birthday celebration for everyone's favorite guy!

warnings: swearing, sad Matt (as always) but he gets loved on I promise, underage drinking, fluff, Foggy and Bug being adorable friends

a/n: This chapter is sickly sweet so be prepared. I have some super angsty stuff coming though. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please feel free to reply/reblog/DM, I love feedback!!

w/c: 5.6k

Waking up to a ripple of pain throughout your head and an accompanying twist of nausea in your gut was unpleasant, to say the least. Groaning, you threw an arm over your aching head to block out the sliver of sunlight that had penetrated your thick blinds. As much as you would have welcomed more sleep, the persistent stabbing pain of your hangover was determined to keep you conscious.

Sitting up with a whine, you dug the heel of your hand into your brow, your other hand laying over your uneasy stomach. While last night had been overwhelmingly fun, you’d apparently gone a bit past your limits. You and Oscar had colluded for weeks to plan Jen’s 21st birthday party. You were in charge of food and decorations, Oscar–given that he was of the legal age–had been in charge of purchasing the alcohol. In typical Oscar fashion, he’d gone above and beyond, completely blowing your expectations out of the water.

After a grueling first semester and a chaotic winter break, you hadn’t really tried to be careful. Past-you had been totally fine overdoing it. Current-you was much less ok with that decision. As memories of the night wriggled their way out the sludge that surrounded your brain, your chest constricted with concern. If you weren’t doing well, it was unlikely Matt or Foggy were upright and jovial. Plus, there was a certain matter you needed to discuss.

The conversation was hazy, blurred by the alcohol lingering in your system, but you remembered the important things. As usual, you’d been pretty much glued to Foggy and Matt all night--maybe even more so since Evs wasn't there to put distance between everyone and your awkward, giggly self.

You didn't remember how it came up, but the three of you had started discussing birthdays. Foggy had lamented, saying his wasn't until July, but Matt had gone quiet. After a bit of prompting and a few more drinks, he'd quietly admitted that his birthday was months ago, in October. You and Foggy had screeched in disbelief, chastising him for not saying anything sooner—but the past was the past.

You and Foggy—Matt's only friends—hadn’t celebrated his first real adult birthday. If your own feelings were any indicator, you were sure Foggy was also devastated that he'd missed this. It almost felt like a personal failing.

Though you'd scolded Matt, anyone with a morsel of knowledge about his upbringing or insecurities would know he'd never have told anyone about his birthday unless specifically asked. This was an oversight that you intended to remedy, hopefully Fog did too.

Opening one eye and grasping for your phone, you managed to seize it from your wobbly nightstand before it clattered to the floor. Sliding the device open, you typed the message out at a snail's pace, each press of a key jostling the pulsating knot behind your eyes.

You: U alive?

The sound your phone emitted as the text was sent into the void nearly deafened you. Gripping it to your chest, you collapsed sideways, burying your head into the cool sheets. Your breathing slowed, consciousness ebbing, before a second text tone jolted you awake.

Foggy: barely

Smiling at your friend's parallel misery, you responded.

You: matt there?

Foggy: no. might b dead. will report back.

You: can we chat?

Before you could even comprehend the consequences of what you'd just asked, an ear-piercing verse of Fergie's “Big Girls Don't Cry” blasted through your phone's speaker. Changing Foggy’s ringtone last night didn’t seem so funny anymore.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” You muttered, fumbling for the answer button. With a satisfied groan, you answered the call.

“Damn, you sound worse than I feel.” Foggy's hoarse voice chuckled over the line.

“So many regrets, Fog.” You moaned, squirming around on the bed while you waited for the ringing in your ears to subside. “Did we die? Is this hell?”

“Hey, speak for yourself. My good-christian-self is destined for eternal paradise.” Foggy scoffed.

“Point taken. If I'm still alive in a few hours, can we meet up to discuss our dear Matthew?” You asked, praying to god that your head stop aching with every breath you took.

“Discuss what exactly? Who'll be giving his eulogy when I find him dead in the communal bathroom?” Foggy grumbled. 

“Please tell me that's a bad joke.” You deadpanned.

“He's fine, jitterbug. He left twentyish minutes ago to puke his guts out.” Foggy confessed.

“Gross, Fog.” You grimaced.

”Hey, you asked!“ He protested. 

”I absolutely did not.” You laughed. “Can we meet up later?“

”Oh yah, forgot you asked. What are we meeting about?“ You could picture Foggy’s confused frown as he wondered aloud.

”His birthday, Fog.“ You explained, not quite in the mood to expound on the point.

”Shit, yah we should talk about that. Blue Java at 2?“ He suggested.

”Sounds good. Lower your expectations for my appearance. See you soon.” 

Ending the call, you collapsed back onto your pillows and let your eyes fall shut.

Lifting your eyes marginally as the bell chimed to signal someone's arrival, you felt a weight fall off your shoulders as a noticeably-disheveled Foggy shuffled in. His face was adorned with cartoonishly large, heart-shaped sunglasses; even through your own tinted lenses, you noticed the vibrant cherry red plastic accentuating his pale complexion. His long hair was tangled and greasy, tucked haphazardly behind his ears. Not raising his head more than he needed to, he trudged the few feet from the door to the wobbly table you were seated at, collapsing into a dented steel chair with a groan.

“Hey Fog,” You chuckled hoarsely as dropped his head to the table, shielding his face with his arms.

He grumbled incoherently, not looking up.

Snorting, and immediately regretting it as your head pulsed with a renewed ache, you poked his arm. “C'mon Fog, up and at 'em.”

“No,” Foggy groused, tightening his arms around his head as you continued to prod at him. “I'm mad at you.”

Throat tightening, you withdrew your hand. ”You're mad at me?“

”You dragged me across the city when I feel like utter crap. I think it's warranted,“ Foggy moaned.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you began jabbing him with your finger again. ”I think you'll get over it. Besides,“

Sliding a large paper cup over to the miserable boy, you forced it into the grip of one of his hands. ”I bought you a large snickerdoodle latte with extra whipped cream and four shots of espresso. That's gotta count for something, right?“

Foggy hummed appreciatively, dragging the cup towards his face as he gradually sat up. ”You're a godsend. I love you.“

”Damn, make up your mind, Nelson.“ You took a sip of your own coffee, briefly contemplating buying another before turning your attention back to your friend and his garish glasses. ”Those glasses look great on you, by the way.“

Foggy snorted, tossing his hair back over his shoulders. ”Why thank you. I found them in the dorm lost and found when I crawled back into the building after trying to brave the day without them.“

”Who would've thought such a fashion statement would happen by accident?“ You giggled.

”I'll have you know it was a deliberate choice to highlight my existing beauty.“ Foggy scoffed, pinching his own cheek.

Shaking your head at him, your tongue felt cemented in place, your brain not quite sure how to voice your concerns about your other friend.

As if he'd read your mind, Foggy dropped his chin to his chest. ”What the hell are we gonna do with him, bug?“

Tracing a finger around the plastic lid of his drink, Foggy looked downright morose, his glasses beginning to slip down the bridge of his nose as he pouted.

Digging your fingers into your brow, you kneaded circles into it to relieve the growing pressure. ”I have no clue, Fog. You really didn't know?“

”No!“ Foggy cried, clearly a bit offended. ”Birthdays are sacred, bug. Sacred! If he'd told me, I'd have...well, I'm not sure what I would have done. But I would have done SOMETHING.”

Nodding woefully, you tried to stifle the frustration building in your chest. “I know that he's probably not used to celebrating, but I can't believe he kept that from us. I don't know whether to be mad at him for not saying anything or mad at myself for not asking.”

“I hear that. Do we just let it slide?”

“Absolutely not.” You protested, your heart squeezing painfully at the idea of simply moving past this. “I actually might have an idea?”

When you hesitated, Foggy waved you on with a limp hand. ”What are you waiting for? It's scheming time!“

Biting your lip as your excitement grew, you launched into the plan your alcohol-soaked brain had cooked up when you fell asleep. Apparently, it wasn't too incomprehensible because Foggy was practically squealing by the end.

”That's PERFECT! How long do we have to prepare?“

”A week?“ You wondered aloud. ”I don't want him to think we've moved on, but we are going to need some time to make the arrangements.“

”Saturday it is. What do you need me to do?“

Grinning at Foggy's eager expression, you shrugged. “I don't know, Fog. What do you want to do?”

“Oh no!” Foggy shook his head, pointing a finger at you sternly. “You're the mastermind here. It's your job to tell me what to do.”

Laughing incredulously, you put your hands up in mock surrender. ”Ok, ok! One question: how are your cake-baking skills?“

Rolling his head in a circle to relieve the crick in his neck, Matt slipped his glasses off so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. He'd been working on this legal research assignment for nearly two hours at this point and it was beginning to irritate him. His brain was too entrenched with other concerns to process the text sitting on his desk--meaning he needed to run his fingers over the same lines again and again in order to even grasp the subject of the material.

Slamming the book closed, he brought a hand up to his scalp, tugging on his hair with a growl. The thud of the book cover falling against coarse paper echoed throughout the empty room, making Matt frown. He wasn't quite sure what Foggy was up to, but it was clear Matt wasn't invited.

A few hours ago, his roommate had started gathering up his belongings and bundling up without a word. When Matt had asked him where he was going, Foggy had clammed up. Though Matt wasn't able to see it himself, he was confident the other man had been wearing a classic ”deer in headlights“ expression. The combination of his startled tone and scrunched face could only mean one thing:  Foggy was hiding something from him.

It was driving him up a wall. Listening to his best friend stammer out some shitty lie about needing to borrow a book from the library had to be one of the worst experiences of Matt's adult life. Foggy was such an honest person, hearing his heartbeat waver with deceit just felt so...wrong. It made him nauseous, in the same way the sound of styrofoam rubbing together did.

Swallowing around the emotions clogging his throat, Matt wet his lips. The more he thought about it, the more logical his anxieties seemed.

Foggy had been increasingly distant all week, and Matt had no idea why. The other man still spent time in their room, but it was limited, and it always felt like he was ready to bolt if Matt asked the wrong question. He'd come home at odd hours for the past three days, reeking of your familiar sweet perfume.

Despite Foggy's inability to admit to it, he'd been spending time with you--and Matt had not been invited.

When Matt had mentioned it to you, you'd waved off his concerns and quickly changed the subject, leaving him thoroughly confused. Both of you were dancing around a massive elephant whenever Matt was in the room, which was infuriating.

He'd thrown himself into their latest legal writing assignment in an attempt to think about anything other than the inevitable end of his two longest friendships, but he couldn't even manage to do that right. Which was odd because his routine this semester revolved pretty heavily around studying on Saturday afternoons.

Suddenly, he was struck by another wave of dread. Was this what the two of you refused to tell him? Was he holding you back from the true ”college“ life filled with underage drinking and loud music by being too concerned with your combined studies? Did you both find his insistence on staying in so unbearably annoying that you'd taken to making plans without him?

Shaking his head to rid himself of the intrusive thoughts, he inhaled deeply. No. That's not what was happening, he would have smelled the liquor on Foggy. Plus, you never seemed to mind spending a night in with him rather than going out on the town.

Allowing himself to get lost in his own thoughts, he didn't notice the familiar sounds of his roommate returning to their room. At the sound of the door opening, he jumped—ramming the rickety desk chair into the desk with a bang as he tried to turn around.

”Jeez, it's just me buddy, no need to have an aneurysm.“ Foggy chuckled, lingering by the door until Matt regained his bearings.

”Sorry,“ Matt muttered, snatching his glasses from the desk and slipping them on.

”No need to apologize, Matty.“ Foggy responded cheerfully, launching himself onto his bed with a small grunt. ”I should've said something before I came in. What if you'd been with a lady?“

At Foggy's mock-gasp, Matt could feel his sullen resolve dissipating. He snorted, his lips twitching as he fought back a smile. “It's 3pm on a Saturday, Fog. Why would I bring a girl back here?”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Foggy twisted to give Matt a look. “Last week you took a girl home from Sunday Brunch at Tom's, Murdock. There's no telling what the handsome duck will do on a given day.”

A laugh burst out of Matt's lips against his will. Shaking his head, he let himself smile. “You told me to talk to her!”

“Uh yah, because she was making googly eyes at you and I'm a fantastic wingman. C'mon man, keep up!” Foggy smirked.

With a snort, Matt collapsed onto his own bed, letting his face fall towards Foggy's. “You are a fantastic wingman. I should be more grateful.”

“Damn right.” Foggy's grin was evident, the sound of his happy heart a welcomed thud in Matt's ears. The absence of Foggy's noisy self had filled their shared space with a stifling, uneasy silence. Now that the quiet had ended, Matt finally felt like he could breathe again.

”Matt, buddy?“ Foggy's direct question snapped him back to reality.

”Huh?“

Chuckling, Foggy shuffled over to Matt's bed, sitting beside him. ”Fallin' asleep on me, Murdock? I'll have you know, I am RIVETING company.”

“'M not falling asleep.” Matt protested, somewhat unbelievably as his eyes remained closed.

“Sure, sure. Tell that to the cartoon letter Z's coming out of your head, dude. I asked if you wanted to get dinner later?”

Foggy's hands twisted around each other, preventing his usual animated gestures. Matt's mattress shifted as his roommate wriggled uncomfortably. Anxiety was cascading off the long-haired man's shoulders, reigniting the dread in Matt's stomach.

Flipping to face the wall, Matt drew his knees towards his chest and away from his roommate's seated form. “Sure, Fog. whatever you want.”

Patting Matt's leg, Foggy's posture drooped with relief. “Great! You have a good nap and I'll wake you up when we have to leave.”

Giving his friend an indifferent thumbs up, Matt squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to stop the tears from falling.

A handful of restless hours later, Matt's jaw was tight as he and Foggy walked across campus to meet you for dinner. Rather than allowing Foggy to guide him, as he'd grown accustomed to, he'd opted for walking alone with his cane. Foggy seemed a bit hurt, but didn't argue. As they closed in on the agreed upon meeting place, Foggy was practically skipping with nervous energy.

While you were still a few blocks away, Matt had focused on your pulse the minute he picked up on it. It was stuttering and unsteady, just like Foggy's–which did nothing to calm his nerves. Hearing Foggy's jacket rustle as he waved to you, Matt tried for a smile, though he was sure it wasn't very convincing.

“Hey guys!” You greeted, jogging over to them. “Long time no see!”

“VERY long time.” Foggy laughed nervously. “Barely remember who you are, actually.”

You snorted, pulling Matt into a hug despite his rigid posture. “Hey trouble. I missed you this week.”

Melting into your embrace, Matt tucked his nose into your scarf, relishing the scent of vanilla and light floral perfume that coated the accessory. You'd missed him. The thought of you valuing his presence enough to notice the absence of it after a few days warmed his heart.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.”

Unraveling your arms from around his waist, you slid a hand into his elbow and squeezed gently. “Everything ok? You two seem tense.”

“Tense? Pfft, never. I'm great. Best I've ever been, even. Off to dinner with my two friends, the three musketeers. Nothing could be better.” Foggy rambled aimlessly, twiddling his thumbs.

Letting Foggy's words hang in the air for a moment, you made a strangled noise, tugging Matt backwards as your footsteps stopped. Resting a hand on Matt's forearm, you chuckled. “Fuck, he's been like this all day, hasn't he? No wonder you seem stressed.”

Gawking, Foggy started to sputter out an excuse but you ignored him, continuing to speak to Matt as if you two were alone. “Don't fret, bubs. He's just nervous he'll ruin the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Matt wondered aloud, “What surprise?”

“Yah, bug. What surprise?” Matt could practically hear Foggy staring daggers at you.

“Fog, look at him. He's freaking out.” You observed, frowning at Matt's tight jaw and scrunched brow.

“I am not.” Matt blushed, ducking his head as he felt your eyes roaming over his face. Your ability to read him like a picture book never ceased to unsettle him.

“Sure, trouble. Let's just finish our walk and all this anxiety will be over, ok?” You bumped your hip against his, ignoring his attempt to maintain his suave image. “Don't let Fog scare you, he's just worried he'll lose the bet.”

“I am not!”

“You are too. We both know how dangerous your loose lips can be.” Placing your free hand on Matt's bicep, you turned your attention back to the dark-haired boy. “Promise he didn't say anything to you?”

“I am absolutely clueless.” Matt confirmed.

“Ha! I told you I could keep it a secret.” Foggy boasted.

“We'll see, Fog. We aren't there yet.” You reminded him.

“It's not MY fault I'm so eager to tell him. He's my best friend!” Foggy pouted.

“Which is why we made the bet as extra motivation, Fog.” You chuckled.

“You guys know I'm still here, right?“ Matt asked nervously, feeling too similar to a cow being led to slaughter for his liking.

Foggy threw an arm around his shoulders in lieu of a response, leaning forward to direct his next comment at you specifically.

“You do know where we're going right? Because this feels a lot like walking in circles.”

Matt could practically hear your eye roll. “You know, next time we plan something, you can pick the venue.”

Foggy tossed his far hand into the air. “Hey, I'm not judging.”

“Tell that to your judging tone, Nelson. You're giving me second thoughts and it's a bit late for that.” You teased. “And I'd like to remind you, I was pretty hungover when we planned this.”

“So WAS I!”

Matt let your playful bickering wash over him, feeling the start of a smile playing on his lips.

The walk to your destination wasn't far, only a few blocks, but the combination of the blistering wind and aching cold made it feel like an eternity. Matt was relatively familiar with the campus, but you were walking past the buildings he was familiar with towards a less populated corner of the college. It's not that he wasn't ok exploring an unfamiliar area of Manhattan, it just didn't help his growing confusion about the situation the two of you were keeping from him.

After the 8 block stroll, which Foggy complained about thoroughly, you reached the Northern edge of Columbia. Standing on the cracked sidewalk, Matt could feel the campus fighting with the rest of the city–the sounds of screaming college students competing with blaring horns and shrill whistles just one block over. The sounds were slightly muddled by the brick building you'd stopped at, echoing off opposite walls and ricocheting in all directions.

“Are we finally here?” Foggy groaned, voice muffled by the scarf he'd tucked over his nose and mouth in, what Matt assumed, was a futile attempt to keep warm.

“Matty, remind me to stop inviting Fog to things.” You quipped, knocking solidly on a locked metal door as Foggy gasped in offense.

The thick steel entrance was quickly unlatched by a man, whose deep voice Matt didn't recognize, halting your and Foggy's renewed bickering.

”Thanks Josh!“ You squeezed the man's shoulder before stepping through the threshold and into the strange building. ”Right this way, gentlemen!“ You called over your shoulder to your friends who hurried to take shelter from the winter chill.

Once inside, Matt's shoulders relaxed as the tension seeped out of them. Escaping the awful cold was a welcomed relief, and, on top of that, the unfamiliar space was immensely…quiet. 

The surrounding walls were thick and much better suited to keeping city noise out than any of the other academic buildings he'd walked through. Sound-proofed maybe? His practiced ears could still hear screeching tires and pounding club music, but the noises were unusually faint–as if his ears were covered with a hundred layers of spun cotton.

Inside the building, soft classical music was playing. Perfectly tuned string instruments sang brilliantly with the accompaniment of expert percussionists. It was peaceful in a way Matt hadn't experienced since listening to the St. Agnes choir rehearse as a child.

Letting his mind get lost in the melodies drifting through the hallways, Matt absently felt you take his arm, guiding him up a few sets of stairs and into a carpeted room. The scent of burning candle wax and sugar filled his nose, and he could feel Foggy's excitement peaking.

”Happy belated birthday, buddy!” His roommate clapped him on the back, ushering him into a seat as you fiddled with what must have been a window lock.

“What?” Matt asked, truly perplexed as Foggy uncorked a bottle of wine and poured three glasses. His birthday? How did you two even– Oh god. A hazy memory ran through his mind; a confession falling off his inebriated lips. Shit.

“You didn't think we'd forgotten that little tidbit, did you?” You teased, cranking a wobbly handle and unsealing the window. With a quiet 'pop', the window burst open and music flooded the room. “There we go! Let me know if it's too loud, trouble.”

Matt's throat was clenched as he truly took in his surroundings. Though he'd never been, he assumed, based on the context clues, that he was listening to the orchestra practice from somewhere in the music building. He wasn't quite sure how you and Foggy had discovered this space, or gained access to it, but he wasn’t going to question your combined wills. “You did this...for me?”

“Course we did, bud! Birthdays deserve a celebration!!” Foggy explained, pressing a glass of sparkling wine into his hand.

“We got sandwiches from the corner deli, champagne from the market, a cake from Silver Moon bakery, and,” You pulled up a chair beside Matt, squeezing his arm as you sat down. “We get to listen to the Orchestra's rehearsal for their ballet next week!”

Matt opened his mouth to say something, hopefully expressing his immense gratitude in the process, but the words refused to form. Swallowing a gulp of the sweet bubbly drink, he fought back the urge to cry.

“Do you like it?” Foggy asked eagerly, his eyes burning holes into Matt's forehead as he tried to read the blind man's reaction.

“I–I love it.” Matt murmured, eyes stinging with tears. “You didn't have to go through so much effort–”

“Oh stop,” You waved off his customary guilt, bumping his shoulder with your own. “We wanted to, bubs. You deserve to have a good birthday. Next time, maybe even in the correct month.”

Matt chuckled weakly at that. “Thank you both. I—I’m sorry for not saying anything last semester…” Trailing off, Matt debated whether to be brutally honest about his upbringing. A warm palm was placed over his hand, which you then squeezed encouragingly. 

“If you want to tell us, we’re here to listen.” Was your soft reminder. 

“We love you, dude. We just want you to feel comfortable with us.” Foggy explained, knocking a knee against Matt’s. 

“I do, I swear! I just…I haven’t celebrated my birthday since my dad passed. I don’t think the nuns even knew that it was in October.” Matt snorted, his small laugh tinged with bitterness. “I didn’t want to bother you both by asking for something, I guess.” 

“Oh, Matt.” Foggy says mournfully, scooching his chair closer to the dark-haired boy. 

“You deserve to be celebrated, trouble.” You remarked, fingers dancing in your lap to the rhythm of the music. “And don’t think this belated party absolves you of one for this coming October. This was a backlog situation.” 

Foggy raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.” 

Downing the small portion of alcohol, he grimaced. “Oh my god! This is awful.”

“It’s the best I could do! Oscar is out of town.” You lamented, coughing on your own swallow.

Matt smiled. “Maybe you two are just weak.” 

You both scoffed at that, immediately pouring yourselves more to drink. 

The sandwiches were decent, as always, but the cake was phenomenal. Chocolate sponge filled with a rich ganache and covered in vanilla whipped cream. Though Matt loved dessert as much as the next person, it could be hard for him to find things that weren’t filled with chemicals, way too much sugar, or–god forbid–non-edible items that warranted a health code violation. Not only had the two of you managed to find a cake that he enjoyed, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was not just a lucky guess. 

The two of you truly knew him.

A month ago, maybe even a week ago, he would’ve been terrified. All the lessons Stick had taught him, the main reason he hadn’t formed any lasting relationships in his two decades on Earth, had boiled down to one principle: proximity to others is dangerous. But you and Foggy had proven his former mentor wrong. Matt’s life had improved significantly since he’d set foot on Columbia’s campus, all because of the two of you and your massive hearts. 

Placing another forkful of cake into his mouth, Matt was suddenly giddy with gratitude. The champagne undermining his ordinarily reluctant subconscious and revealing the immense love that he held for the two of you. By the time you’d all demolished the food, his limbs had been warmed by the alcohol. 

“At least you know Fog will never find another best friend behind your back, Matt.” You giggled, bringing him back to the present as you drained the bubbles from your glass. “He wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.”

“You make it sound like he’s my paranoid spouse or something!” Foggy laughed.

“Paranoid?” Matt gasped. “Who told you!”

“Uh oh, you’re in the doghouse now, Nelson!” You beamed, licking icing from your fork. “You shouldn’t speak ill of your wife like that.”

“Ok, first of all,” Foggy raised a hand. “He’d clearly be the husband in this scenario.”

“Clearly.” Matt jested, rolling his eyes to you. 

“Second of all,” Foggy spoke over him. “Matt has made it very clear that he is not interested in legalizing our profound bond.”

As Foggy broke off into fake sobs, you gasped and Matt cackled. “Matthew! Why would you turn down such a marvelous offer?” You scolded, standing to give Foggy a wobbly hug as his dramatized reaction gradually slowed.

“I know why,” Foggy sniffled, shifting his body away from Matt with a pout. “It’s because of my inadequacy.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Fog?” Matt chuckled, crossing his arms as he waited for Foggy to reveal the punchline.

“I can't—can't...” Foggy stammered emphatically. Rubbing circles on his back, you frowned in exaggerated concern, your breath stifled as you tried desperately not to laugh.

“It's ok, Fog. This is a safe space. You can tell us anything.” You reminded the blond, clearly in as much anticipation as Matt was.

“I can't DANCE!” Foggy cried, collapsing to the ground in a heap. “And heaven will burn before Matthew Murdock marries someone who would step on his toes.”

You and Matt erupted into boisterous laughter as Foggy stuck his nose into the air. “It's true. Tell her, Matt. Tell her about my left feet!”

Still giggling, Matt shook his head. “Fog, I'm blind! You've taken a whole semester of modern dance! If anyone has two left feet it's me.”

Jumping to his feet a bit unsteadily, Foggy swept an arm across the room, beginning to slow dance by himself. “Woe is me!” He cried with a forcibly shaky voice. “No partner to dance with!”

“I'll dance with you, Fog. You poor thing,” You cooed, squealing in delight as Foggy grasped your hand and spun you towards him.

Matt beamed as he heard the two of you swaying to the rhythm of the music playing throughout the building. Foggy was humming softly along and you were attempting to get your tipsy limbs to obey the commands your brain was sending.

“Ok, I'm getting way too dizzy. Time to cut in, Murdock!” You chuckled, plopping down into your seat as Matt stood from his.

“Gladly!” Matt smirked, yelping as Foggy yanked him forward and positioned his hands on the long-haired man's own hips.

“I'm confused, aren't you leading?” Matt questioned, body going slack as Foggy began to twirl them around.

“I'm trying! Pick up your damn feet, dude!” Foggy scoffed, kicking Matt's shoe lightly.

“Then why are my arms underneath yours?”

“Because I'M the WIFE!”

“But you have to lead!” Matt shot back, still chuckling.

“Ugh, forget it. It'll never work between us, dear Matthew. Remember me when you dance with your bride on your wedding day.” Foggy clapped him on the back, curtseying before stepping away. ”Farewell, sweet prince!“

Shaking his head as Foggy strode away, Matt turned his attention to you, smiling rougishly. “Hmmm, it seems I'm in need of a new partner. Care to dance with me, sweetheart?”

Shrieking with laughter, you attempted to make your escape by darting around your chair, but Matt snatched you around the waist, pulling your hips towards his.

“I'm no Franklin Nelson, Matty. I'll trip over you!” You protested, weakly trying to squirm out of his grip, smile still gracing your lips.

“I don't mind, bug. If you want to give it another shot, that is.” Matt loosened the hold he had on your hips, allowing you to refuse if you truly wanted to, but you remained mere centimeters from him.

“S-sure, Matty. How do I...” You flexed your fingers, unsure of where to place your hands.

“Fog?” Matt called to his roommate, grinning when the blond rushed over in a huff to 'correct their form'.

With your hands linked around his neck, and his palms pressed gently against your hips, Matt inhaled deeply as he focused on the tempo of the song currently playing. Swishing the two of you from side to side, Matt stepped carefully in a waltz motion, the very one he'd heard Foggy practicing night after night during the slow dancing unit of his class.

His movements weren't nearly as confident as Foggy's but you seemed pleasantly surprised, letting him move you around the room with a bit less force than your other friend had. Tilting into him slightly, you huffed out an exhale.

”Dizzy?“ Matt asked quietly, hearing your eyelids flutter closed.

”Drank too fast, I think.“ You reasoned, scrunching your nose as the ground continued to spin beneath you.

”C'mere, sweetheart.“ Matt clasped his hands behind your lower back, tucking your head under his chin as he slowed his movements. ”Need to sit down?“

”No,“ You sighed, nuzzling into the junction of his neck and shoulder. ”This is better.“

”I'm glad.“ Matt murmured, pretending not to feel Foggy staring daggers into his back.

Humming appreciatively, your thumb rubbed over his nape. ”You smell nice, Matty.“

Huffing out a laugh, Matt battled the urge to plant a kiss to your crown. ”So do you, sweets. Thank you for a great birthday.“

”Of course.“ Your thumb continued to stroke small lines over his neck. ”You deserve it.“

Withdrawing slightly from your embrace, Matt craned his neck towards where his other friend was finishing the last dregs of the champagne. ”Thank you too, Fog. I appreciate you both so much.“

”We love you too, buddy.“ Foggy smiled, stepping over the spread of food to help remove you from Matt's side.

Gently sliding you into a seated position on the carpet, Foggy sat to your left, prodding you until you nestled back onto Matt's shoulder to your other side. Plucking a fleece blanket from the floor, the blond wrapped it around the three of you cozily.

”There we go. Everyone warm enough?“ Foggy asked. You nodded sleepily as Matt hummed his assent.

Tapping his fingers to the steady beat of the percussionists below, Matt closed his eyes, smile never falling from his face. 

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe @abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind @supervoldejaygent @dorothleah @zomtart @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @rev-glut @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[thebrandywine]

hi, uhm, the prompt things, how about "may I have this dance?" for nivaneddy?

hope your day is going well!

He escapes so that he can clear his head, slipping out a side door and into the much cooler evening air outside. The sun is almost fully set, the sky pink and purple as the crickets start to sing, and Piers Nivans is fucking tired. His head is pounding, and he's lost his tie at some point over the long hours, and he's overheated enough to fully unbutton his dress shirt so that he can wave it around to make a breeze. He tips his head back and focuses on breathing, the music blessedly quiet out here.

The happiest day of his life is getting to be a bit much.

He doesn't want it to end, necessarily, but he wouldn't mind if some people started going home or if someone lowered the volume of the entire room, but he'd planned this day for Leon and Leon alone because that man deserves nothing less than everything that he wants. And Leon has been so happy tonight that Piers can't bear to call it quits, not until Leon decides that it's over.

"Hey."

Piers jumps, twisting to look and relaxing again. Leon is standing with one hand braced on the door frame, lit from behind in the way that always sets his hair alight. He looks rumpled this far into the night, worn around the edges but still glowing. Piers can't help but smile.

"Hey, yourself," he says.

Leon steps down to join him as the music surges again, the very end of Y.M.C.A. winding down as some people cheer and laugh. Everyone was probably dancing to it. Hopefully they haven't started wondering where the grooms have gotten to.

"We can head up to our room if you want," Leon says, hovering a little. Piers doesn't mind, turning to welcome Leon into his space-- he'd always thought that people at weddings were exaggerating that pull, that need to be close the night of, but even he can't deny that it feels something like magic tonight. "Get some sleep?"

"Do you want to?" Piers asks.

Leon drifts closer, their hands brushing where they hang loose at their sides. "I want what you want," he says, bringing one hand up to brush his knuckles over Piers' cheek.

Piers can feel the heat in his cheeks. Leon isn't blinking, is staring right at him with his eyes gone softer than Piers had ever thought would be possible when they'd first met. Secret agent Leon Kennedy, ice queen of the DSO. God, how little he knew then.

"What I want," Piers says as he settles his hands on Leon's hips, "is for you to do what makes you happy."

Everyone they love is in the hotel, just through that door. There's good food and good drinks, good company, and alright music. This night is a celebration of what they are and what they're going to be and it's so, so important.

But Leon fully cups his face with one hand, the other settling on his shoulder, and he kisses Piers on the forehead long and slow and lingering. "I am," he says. "I'm with you."

His eyes water a little. He presses his forehead more firmly against the kiss and feels Leon's lips tilt up crooked and fond. He can just barely hear the next song begin to play, one he'd picked for the playlist himself-- a love song that Leon sings every time it comes on the radio, looking at Piers as he does.

"May I have this dance?" he asks, leaning back just so he can watch that smile widen.

"Depends," Leon says. "Can I kiss you?"

Piers doesn't justify that with a response. They kiss and they sway and no one comes looking for them for a long, long time.

[neon-junkie]

In the Heat of the Moment - Chpt.6

Summary: “Less than ten percent of domesticated species go into heats,” accord to Tech and his research, and (un)fortunately, you’re one of that ten percent. What else are you meant to do? Trapped during a heat cycle with five men - five willing men who are happy to help relieve you, but not all have the confidence to say so.

Relationship: The Bad Batch x fem!Reader (she/her)

Tags: Heats, Mating, Sex pollen, Friends with benefits, Friends to lovers, Slow burn, Sex, Jealousy, Pining, Cuddling, Huddling for warmth, Tags to be added.

Word count: 2.8k

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 7]

Chapter 6 - Hot ‘n’ Cold

Two suns.

Why does Tatooine need two suns?

It's not like you can do repairs during the night, either, as the temperature plummets so deep that your goosebumps have goosebumps. Plus, it's dark... Duh!

So, all you and the others can do is work away during the blazing heat. Bunks have been stripped, the sheets being used as make-shift shade whilst you work, only to be pulled down and wrapped up in when the temperature drops every night. Your heat cycle has taken pity on you, as it's relaxed these last few days. Bless Echo for giving you a good run for your money, as he's kept you fully stocked.

Well, there have been odd moments where you can feel your hormones playing up, only for the sweltering blaze from the suns to knock them down a peg.

Speaking of the heat, it's provided you with a new threat - shirtless men.

It's understandable that the Batch want to work on repairs in as minimal clothing as possible, seeing as their armour isn't designed to keep the heat out - not when it's painted black, a colour that attracts heat. To combat their little problem, they've decided to work shirtless, with their lower half sporting sweatpants or sleep shorts.

You've been working in the bare minimum, too. And as curious as your eyes are, the Batch are just as guilty. Some of them haven't even bothered looking away when you've caught them eyeing you up, such as when Echo merely shrugged and replied, "what? These glances keep me motivated."

Charming.

There is, surprisingly, no signal out in the Dune Sea. Whilst you and Tech remain on the Marauder to focus on repairs, the others have taken on the task of trekking to Mos Espa, desperate for supplies, and hopefully, a call for help. That is, if the Republic answers - their lines are almost always busy.

The Batch set out at the crack of dawn, and now that the suns are shining overhead, you assume that they must be there by now. The midday heat is unbearable, and wanting to avoid the blaze, you enter the Marauder. It's durasteel structure traps some heat, but thankfully, the air-conditioning is up and running, and despite its funny smell, you enjoy the decline in temperature.

Not wanting to lie on the leather seats, only to peel yourself off them later, you decide to settle on the floor. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you lie back against the wall, followed up by you taking a well-needed drink from your water bottle.

"Having another break, are we?" Tech's voice chimes out as he also enters the cockpit. His brows are furrowed as he gazes over your form, and you know that he's silently cursing himself for being the mechanic of the Batch, meaning he has the most responsibility when it comes to repairs. Not everybody can lounge around like you, (apparently.)

You don't fancy putting up with Tech's petty remarks, and as luck would have it, you have a reasonable explanation for your 'break.' "Yeah, I just need a moment... something is playing up," you gesture to your lower abdomen, which causes Tech's brows to soften out, and his lips to tilt into a slant.

"Ah, I understand," he says with a nod, and decides to sit beside you, also sipping on his own bottle of water.

Silence swarms the air, however, it's not unsettling. Whilst your and Tech's relationship has become tense, there is still respect. You both know this is merely a storm that will pass, but constant wedges have formed, making it unable to rest.

Until now.

Tech, whilst moving his goggles up to rest on his forehead, comments, "whilst I would offer you assistance, I am not in a suitable state to do so." He gestures to his grimy and sweaty form, and to be fair, your state is no better. "My mind is also far too occupied with repairs, and I am sure you would not enjoy intercourse with me, seeing as my hygiene has become poor. If our resources were not limited, I would happily use the refresher, but we-"

"-It's okay, Tech," you cut his words short with a soft wave of your hand. "I'm too sweaty to fuck, too."

Tech lets out a chuckle. "Well, that is one way of putting it."

Your eyes meet for a moment, and for the first time in days, neither of you feel tense. Tech has always been such a sweetheart to you, even if he was a little awkward and unsure of you, at first. The Batch weren't used to having a Jedi around - they've never had a General before - so can you blame him for having his guard up?

Although Tech doesn't mean his next words with malice, they come out that way, regardless. "Perhaps Echo could assist you when he returns?"

"Oh," you murmur, your eyes locking onto Tech's. Within an instant, he realises his mistake, and rubs the back of his neck in worry.

"That was not a dig," he winces. "I... ahem, overheard you two the other night."

Either the heat from outside is seeping in to the cockpit, or you're burning up from embarrassment. A knot forms in your stomach, travelling up your body, and soon settling in your throat. You attempt to clear it, once, twice, and fail regardless. All you can do is own up to your shenanigans, despite them being consensual all around. "That loud, huh?" you joke.

Tech's lips purse in annoyance, "it was tolerable."

You grimace, and Tech's silent expression reads, 'keep it down next time, would you?'

"...I'm sorry," you sigh, and to your surprise, Tech swats your apology away with a wave of his hand.

"Like I stated before, I am happy with you finding relief in multiple partners," Tech says with a shrug, and whilst you're glad he's not annoyed over that, you mentally note to tone the noise down in the future. Tech continues speaking, although his words have fallen quiet, "and maybe when this storm has passed, we might be able to resume where we left off?"

Your ears perk up at the suggestion - not just because you'll be receiving relief from your body's natural cycle, but because Tech is still interested in you. Dare you think about it, but you're also questioning your chances of having both Tech and Echo at the same time, although you really shouldn't get ahead of yourself!

Resting your cheek on your palm, you sweetly coo, "awh! You miss me?" with a flirty bat of your lashes.

Tech rolls his eyes in amusement, although he can't hide the upwards turn to his lips. "I would be lying if I said that I haven't had you on my mind."

"Awhh!!" you smile, and give Tech a playful nudge. "I knew you couldn't stay mad at me!"

Tech rolls his eyes once more, a common trait of his. He tenderly places his bare hand on your forearm, and whilst keeping eye contact, he speaks. "Mesh'la, I could never stay mad at you. I was in the wrong for becoming overbearing and somewhat possessive, but I now understand that it is entirely natural, especially in your state, for your hormones to somewhat take over your emotions."

"No, no," you say with a wave of your hand. "I was in the wrong for snapping at you. You were only trying to make sure that I was eating, and taking care of myself, and I let my heat get the better of me."

Tech blinks in bewilderment before letting out a laugh, "perhaps we could agree that we were both in the wrong?"

"Perhaps," you repeat his words, imitating his accent. Tech sends you a look before moving his hand from your forearm, his palm meeting the back of your hand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and to your surprise, Tech leans over to place a kiss on your forehead, unfazed by your light layer of sweat.

"I'm going to return to the repairs," Tech informs you. He stands, letting out a soft grumble as he does so, his joints cracking from exhaustion. "Join me when you're ready, and please, call out for me if you require anything."

With that, Tech is exiting the cockpit after sending you a soft smile. He disappears from your line of sight, moving down to the hull's exterior to continue his work. The back of your head meets the wall, and you let out a deep sigh, feeling relieved that you two have finally talked things out.

It was all a misunderstanding. Tech cares, and that's not something that you're used to. You shouldn't have snapped, and Tech shouldn't have pushed. Whatever. It's settled now.

You give yourself a few minutes alone before forcing yourself up to your feet, and decide to join Tech outside, eager to help him out as your way of saying thank you.

The depths of space are silent, and to your surprise, the depths of the Dune Sea are just as silent. All you can hear is the distant snoring of your squad, bound to their own rooms. It's almost unsettling, to not have the hum of the Marauder in the distance, a soft buzz as she drifts in space.

You roll onto your back, and with that, a frustrated sigh escapes your lips. You can't sleep, and surprisingly, your heat is not to blame. The desert is cold at night, so cold that it's seeped into the Marauder, and wandered into your room. No amount of blankets seem to be warming you up; you need a distraction, and hopefully, a bit of movement will warm your body up in no time.

Exiting your bunk, you pull the blankets up and over your form, and whilst grasping them tightly across your chest, you begin to make your way out of your room, ready to bug whoever is on the night shift.

"Can't sleep, huh?" Wrecker questions as he notices you in the corner of his eye. He spins the co-pilot chair around, and after setting his holopad down on the dashboard, he meets your eyes.

"Yeah," you say with a soft laugh. You nestle down in the pilots chair, tucking the blanket over your entire form as you bring your knees up to your chest. Somehow, the cockpit is even colder than your room, and you question how Wrecker can sit here in only his civvies, unfazed by the cold. "It's too cold, you know?"

"Yeah, hah!" Wrecker chuckles. "Too cold during the night, but too hot during the day..."

"Exactly," you agree with a frustrated sigh.

As you rest your head back against the chair, silence settles peacefully around both of you. Wrecker is one of those few people who you can sit in a comfortable silence with, only right now, Wrecker isn't comfortable - he's concerned, and you can sense why.

"Are you... uh..." Wrecker murmurs, and brings a palm up to meet the back of his neck. "Are you alright?" he settles on the question, short and simple, and open for any and every answer.

You trail your eyes to meet his, and there is nothing but tenderness within them. "For once, I'm just cold," you say with a shrug, causing Wrecker's expression to soften out.

"Oh," he hums. Wrecker twiddles his fingertips together as he speaks up again, "I've pieced together what is going on from your... uh, stuff. And with a bit of help from Crosshair, but if you..." his words fall flat, and Wrecker begins to stutter. "...I... uh... I guess I'm trying to say that I'm here for you? Kriff, I don't know what to say, really."

"I understand," you reply with a sweet smile. "Thank you, Wrecker. I think the worst of it has passed, but I still have my moments, you know?"

"Yeah," Wrecker says with a nod. "Crosshair went into... uh, a lot of detail when he explained it to me. Maybe too much detail, hah!"

You roll your eyes, "do I dare ask what he said?" knowing that Crosshair was bound to go down the raunchy side of things, and in some cases, exaggerate it for fun.

"It's probably best that you don't," Wrecker responds with a chuckle. The smile on his lips shifts to concern, and Wrecker raises his brows as he points out the obvious. "Kriff, you're shivering!"

You send him a numbing smile, "yeah, I'm really cold," you say with a nervous laugh.

Wrecker grumbles as he rubs the back of his neck. "Do you want to...?" he points to his lap, and makes a grabbing motion with his hands. "Maybe a cuddle will warm you up?" he suggests.

This isn't the first time that you've cuddled with Wrecker. His love language is physical touch, both in romantic and platonic relationships. Wrecker also wears his heart on his sleeve, and the comfort and security of his squad comes before his needs. Always.

"Please," is all you mutter before rising to your feet, and taking a step over to where Wrecker is sitting. Wrecker is both gentle and forward as he bundles you up in his lap, large arms wrapping around your form, practically holding you like a baby. You feel like one, too, given the size difference.

Wrecker shifts in his seat, and after checking over your body to ensure that you're fully covered with your blankets, he relaxes back against the chair. "You know, you can always borrow my hoodie," he says with a light shrug, putting another offer on the table.

"I think I'll be alright like this," you smile, already beginning to feel the warmth growing in your chest, shifting across your body. "Besides, your hoodie would probably go past my knees!"

Wrecker lets out a laugh as he holds you tighter, envisioning you wearing his hoodie. You curl up tighter against his chest, and finally, weight begins to form beneath your eyes. Body warmth is making you tired, and you know that falling asleep in Wrecker's arms is bound to happen.

Until you drift off, you decide to keep the conversation going, knowing that Wrecker won't feel insulted when you do doze off on him. Literally.

"What were you watching?" you nod your head in the direction of his datapad, sitting forgotten on the Marauder's dashboard.

"Oh, well..." Wrecker begins as he picks his datapad up, unlocking it with a swish of his finger. "We haven't got service out here, so I was going through my photos and videos," Wrecker explains, pulling up the app. The last video that he was watching comes on the screen, and automatically begins to play.

It's old, before you were stationed with them. The Batch is in their barracks back on Kamino, and each of them is dotted around the room. Most are stationed at the table, shiny clone armour scattered everywhere, minus Crosshair, who is keeping to his bunk.

"We had just graduated," Wrecker states as the video continues to play. Wrecker is the one filming, that much is obvious given how much the camera shakes, an excited Trooper running around to his squad to film them decorating their first set of armour. "We hadn't even gone on a mission yet, but we wanted to make sure that our armour was ours, you know?"

The audio is quiet, but you can make out their voices. "Let's see yours, Sarge!" Wrecker says as he shoves the camera in Hunter's face. He's so young, baby faced, and tattoo-less. His hair is barely past his ears, and to nobody's surprise, Hunter has already begun wearing a red bandana.

Hunter holds up his armour like a proud child showing off their drawing. The standard white armour has a few red details on it, but the main thing that stands out is the black '99' across the left side of his chest.

"Your symbol," you murmur, taking in how proud your boys looked back when they were shiny and new.

"Yeah," Wrecker says with a grin. "We wanted to make sure that everybody knew how defective we are, so we all decided to put '99' on our chests," he grins, and with that, the video comes to an end.

A light sigh escapes you, and as you shut your eyes, you press your head deeper against Wrecker's chest. "You're my defective boys," you coo, knowing that the word has become a symbol of power to them.

"Yeah, we are!" Wrecker says with a cheer - a light cheer, as to not startle your sleepy state.

Your eyes flutter open again, with a smile on your lips. "Show me more videos?" you question, and Wrecker is eager to take you up on that offer.

There are hours, days, possibly weeks of footage on this datapad that Wrecker is more than happy to show you. He lets you pick something out at random, and with every video that plays, Wrecker has several stories behind it.

You're content like this - cooped up in Wrecker's arms whilst he goes on about tales from the Batch's early days - so content that you might drift off to sleep.

Probably.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Civilian Asset 4.

Polyamorous/femme/female reader x multiple

Summary: Still far from home and far from well.

Master List / Prev Chapter

Warning: 18+ (fairly tame chapter, but stands for entire series)

Tagging: A couple folks have asked about tagging. Unfortunately tagging breaks my posts, so I don't keep lists. But I DO reply to each comment on each chapter when I post something new. So it's like a hand-written invitation delivered by butler to your inbox.

A/N: Tumblr is being weird with links, and I'm not sure how to fix it. Had an extremely rough month really working on a piece about school safety... enough said. And I've been sick. So. Ya'll mean the world, thank you for your continued support!

4.

You’re drowning in a sea of hands.

They push and pull like ocean currents, and you’re as helpless in their merciless grip as a swimmer in a riptide, tumbling so deep you can’t remember which way is up. There’s air, but an arm around your neck presses on your trachea. Suffocating you. No matter how much you claw and wheeze, it only tightens, slow and inextricable. The worst kind of promise building in the pressure.

Thousands of strangers’ fingers paint you with intent, sweaty and slick. Each hand wants something. Maybe they’re working in chorus, or maybe each one is out for itself. It’s impossible to tell by the way they paw, snare, and grab at you. Whatever they want is inside. Deep in your belly or hiding in your spine, some key or secret blunt nails work to pry out. They won’t be satisfied until you’re swallowed, torn apart, and sorted into pieces.

The dark smells like old carpets, bird shit, and rust.

Waves of touch tug you in opposite directions, twisting your arm behind your back and your foot over your head. It’s chaos. And it hurts. But they’re all moving you, hauling you into a hell that sounds like war. You’ve never heard gunfire like this. Only three clean shots from a distant sniper rifle. But the cacophony ricochets with dozens of automatic weapons, and the hands scratch and dig into your skin, greedy for your fear as you sink into the echoes…

And wake with the gunfire still in your ears.

Sharp, jolting breaths lift your shoulder, punching through your chest with a salty aftertaste from the tears and mucus trickling down the back of your throat. Everything else locks in place. Your legs are too achy to move. Your eyelids stick open, drinking in shadows. Lying on your side, you not only hear but feel your pulse beating in your ears, and it takes several minutes of wading through too many confusing sensations before you know where you are and why everything’s stiff and sore.

The room is dark. Only a crack of light spills under the door. It’s proper country dark outside, too, pressing black against the window.

It’s raining.

No gunfire. No danger. It’s only precipitation battering against the glass. You are as safe as you can be, given the situation, and the men downstairs would be shouting and kicking in the door if something had gone wrong. Bullets would pierce the walls, shatter the window.

Even though you know it’s just the weather, you’re half convinced a dozen soldiers have opened fire on the room.

You try waiting it out.

Maybe it will stop or you’ll remember you aren’t afraid of the rain.

But it doesn’t, and you can’t bear it, so you get up and head for the glow behind the door. Hopefully the rain isn’t so loud downstairs.

The hall light bathes the space yellow in a way your shattered internal clock reads as daylight. Open doors to the bathroom and the second bedroom loom dark in contrast, like caves along a hiking trail, and the stairs will challenge you as much as a mountainside when you work up the nerve to descend. First you take time to wipe the salt track off your face with cool tap water. The pillow should keep those secrets. You don’t need to wear the evidence.

The adrenaline rush fucked off some time ago, and even after the nightmare you’re left with nothing but clinging paranoia. That doesn’t make you calm. Your anxiety feels like breath on the back of your neck, or eyes squinting through hidden peepholes, prickling over your skin with the assurance that something, somewhere is off, and you shouldn’t leave yourself exposed.

Logically, the men downstairs are no threat. Quite the opposite. You don’t feel logical. Your collection of hurts urge you to hide under a bed. In a closet. To stay out of sight as you lick your wounds.

The soldiers have your life in their hands, and that requires inordinate amounts of trust. There’s a gap you can’t cross. You’ve known them for a few hours. They killed people, and then they stopped your bleeding and sent you to bed. That’s too much and not enough for friendship.

You’re also, on a much shallower level, wildly aware that you’re the odd one out. The only woman. The only stranger. The only civilian.

It’s like standing in the cafeteria on the first day at a new school and wondering where the hell you’re supposed to sit.

Studiously avoiding your reflection, you leave the bathroom and begin your hike downstairs. Each step is a mile. You count them, congratulating yourself on your progress as you balance with your hand on the wall. In yesterday’s – today’s? – struggle, you used muscle groups you didn’t know you had and used known muscles in new and interesting ways they disapprove of. Everything is a little harder, and every step a little wobbly, and thankfully no one pops around the corner to see your tremorous pace.

Shadow creep over the lower steps where the hall light can’t quite reach, but a bright puddle spills out from the kitchen, and you follow it like a little moth.

Rain patters against the windows here, too, but the drumming on the roof doesn’t reach through the upper floor.

You’ll take it.

The kitchen opens around you as you step through, and your eyes flick up from your feet as a figure moves in your peripheral.

“You’re up.”

It’s the Scot. He’s divested himself of the tac vest, though a handgun peaks out from a holster under his jacket. It’s a good sign that he’s less armed than this morning, though. It gives you hope. A step towards de-escalation and a normal state of being where locked doors mean something and you get to sleep in your own bed.

The kitchen’s a little chilly, and your arms fold of their own volition. You stuff your hands out of sight, hiding your most obvious injury as you wince out a smile and try not to make things awkward.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t ask if you slept well. You appreciate it. Instead he fills the electric kettle and pops down the tab before even asking, “Tea?”

Since it’s already too late to say no, you nod, taking a seat at the table to spare your shaky fawn legs. “Thanks.”

The clock over the sink reads 9:07, so it hasn’t been dark for long. You’ve slept away the day, and now you have a long night of worry and stilted conversation ahead. What the fuck are you supposed to talk about with these people? Or are you supposed to converse with them at all beyond basic pleasantries?

Tea might make everything better, or the caffeine may make everything just a little worse. A warm drink does sound nice, though.

A heavy jacket still flush with body heat drops over your shoulders, and you freeze like a cat suddenly trapped under a blanket.

You feel your eyes go big and know you’ve made the moment weird as you peer up at the burly Scot. The fabric’s heavier than it looks, and it smells like the man. Something sweet hidden under whiskey and aftershave. The weighted warmth feels like security made cloth, and the comfort tangles with the acidic terror still hissing in your belly.

The man beams. Chortling, clearly delighted with himself, he rearranges the collar to sit right around your neck without pressing on the bruises.

“Dreich weather,” he says, stepping away to throw a tea bag in a chipped white mug. “Need to keep warm.”

Your fingers lift to the worn seems along the zip, pulling it just a little closer, like folding yourself into a cocoon. He’s given you a hug, you realize, without invading your personal space. It’s shockingly considerate, and you swim through treacle-thick thoughts for the right words of thanks, but they roll back down your throat before you can express yourself as you look back up to an eyeful of distraction.

Without the jacket the soldier’s a walking gun show, and you aren’t thinking about the weapon clipped to his belt. His snug, dun t-shirt showcases his broad shoulders and the sculpted trunks he calls arms without clinging to his tapered waist. His golden tan practically shines against the dull cloth and muted colors of the kitchen. Veiled muscles roll along his back as he reaches into an upper cabinet for a couple more mugs, and you flick your eyes down to the places the varnish has cracked off the table so he doesn’t catch you staring.

It's patently unfair that such an attractive man is paying so much attention to you when you’re too sick with shock and fear to do anything about it.

He slides the tea into your line of sight, and manage to mumble, “Thank you,” without imploding, exploding, or falling into a heap of embarrassed chunks.

“Ye’re welcome.”

He’s added sugar. Did you miss him asking how you took your tea? Doesn’t matter.

You only just notice the soft footsteps approaching from the open doorway leading to the living room before a shadow cuts through the yellow kitchen lights to your left. The captain nods down at you as he heads towards the half-steeped cups waiting by the sink, greeting his sergeant with a rumble. With cup in hand, he turns, propping a hip against the counter as he pulls you into a conversation.

“Was plannin’ on sending Gaz to check on you in another hour, make sure you were alright.” He speaks as he sips his tea, leaving his voice a little muffled, indirect in a way that suggests awareness of things better left half-acknowledged.

Taking your cue from the leader, you hide behind your mug.

“No need now.”

The tea’s very nice, actually. The warmth soothes your aching throat and pairs well with the gentle warmth of Soap’s jacket. A hug inside to complement the hug outside.

The captain lifts his eyebrows, pausing between sips. “And are you?”

Despite his careful tone, the question hits with a sharp edge, slicing between the plates of armor you assembled over the bathroom sink before braving the soldiers’ company. Are you alright? You flinch setting down your mug, and the drink sloshes up to the rim. Just shy of a spill.

Washed face of no, you must look awful. Your eyes always go red and puffy after too much crying, and you can’t banish every trace of your little breakdown, no matter how hard you try.

“I thought I’d spare us all the awkwardness of a bunch of soldiers trying to handle a crying woman.” Make it a joke. Make it light. Maybe it will float away and take those probing questions with it. You desperately need a distraction, something to pull the focus off your welfare and back to things these men are equipped to handle.

“What happens now?” you ask.

Soap scoffs into the third cup. “Try not to die.” The captain swats him over the head, grazing the mohawk, and the Scot chokes, spluttering tea out his nose as he hastily adds, “Of boredom.”

“Laswell called while you were asleep. She has things in hand. In another day or two she’ll have enough free resources to help us handle the cell here without drawing the wrong attention. Until then we sit tight.” He smiles with his eyes and the shape of his face. The mustache hides most of his mouth when he angles his head down to meet your eye, but there’s no mistaking his expression. “Keep you safe.”

He’s as bad as subordinate.

The military issue clothes reveal enough of his shape to spark your interest in any other situation, and he moves with confidence you’d like to reach out and taste. Those smiles of his don’t help.

As you sit stewing in your own flatfooted frustration, your stomach decides you haven’t done enough to humiliate yourself and kicks off with a growl.

You press a hand flat to your gut. Soap laughs as your face heats, and if you weren’t on the verge of starving you might’ve sprinted back up the stairs to hide in the room Gaz said is more or less yours.

“How long since you ate?” the captain asks.

Too long ago. This is a military man, though, and they like specifics. You think back, leaping from abduction to fleeing to the club lights and blood. “More than a day. Day and a half, I think.” That sounds right. The last meal you remember is lunch the day prior.

Huffing, the Scot turns back to the cabinets, rustling through a collection of tins and boxes. Nonperishables. Of course. A safehouse wouldn’t stock anything liable to spoil in the months or years between visits. At least you don’t see any MREs lurking in the depths. The past twenty-four hours have seen enough horrors.

Squinting at the expiration date on a can, Soap asks, “How do you feel about beans?”

[tgmsunmontue]

Another Time (Chapter 1/14)

Summary: Jake wakes up in Rooster's body about ~30 or so hours post-Mission and they have to deal with it. They're adults. Apparently.

A/N: There seems to be a lack of body-swap in this fandom, so I thought I’d give it a crack. It’s one of my favourite tropes. I am from New Zealand but I write with lots of ‘z’s and remove a lot of my ‘u’s. However I don’t in my author’s note. Hopefully I caught them all – apologies for slip-ups. (I also type with wrist braces on so my finger mobility can be a bit screwy – that said I’m also a fandom old (but not an elder) so while this isn’t my first fic, it is my first in the fandom and after I’ve taken a break.

Jake’s POV for odd chapters, and Bradley’s POV for even chapters.

Also, obligatory note that I have no knowledge of the US Navy (and that whole ‘girl, what were you doing at the devil’s sacrament?’ thing applies here as well in terms of military propaganda).

(Posting on Tumblr, chapter a day until it's complete (currently 12 chapters in), after which I will post it on AO3 once a day until it's complete).

CHAPTER ONE 

               Jake wakes up in the sick bay, his breath coming in gasps as his dream fades into mist. Why is he in the sickbay? He doesn’t remember getting here and that’s never a good sign. There’s only half-light, the room has no portholes just some lights left on the dimmest possible setting; he can tell he’s still on the ship. The last thing he remembers though is falling into exhausted slumber in his rack, Javy below him and Payback and Fanboy opposite. He doesn’t feel right though, body aching all over, skin tight in places it shouldn’t be. He holds his hand up in front of his face and squints. Blinks.

                That is not his fucking hand.

                Okay.

                Deep breath.

                In.

                …

                And out.

                …

                Again.

                 …

                He tries to sit up and needs to slow down the movement, body stiff and he’s not in his own body. Or there’s something very wrong with his head. Or both. He’s staring at mostly bare feet that don’t belong to him (one is wrapped in a bandage and is slowly throbbing in time with his heart – it doesn’t feel like a good idea to test bearing weight on it) when the door to the sickbay opens abruptly and he just stares. He guesses he knows where his body got to.

                “Thank fuck! You okay?”

                “I… Rooster?” He’s hazarding a guess, but it’s the only one that makes sense. He has no idea where Mav is, the other bed is empty. And he’s somehow in Rooster’s body, and not in a way he previously imagined was ever possible.

                “Yeah. Fuck this is weird. You’re in my body.”

                “Yeah, no shit. You’re in mine. What the hell happened?”

                “I don’t know! I woke up in your rack and promptly whacked my head because I thought I was here…” Rooster says, putting his hand to his (Jake’s) forehead where a bump is already forming.

                “Be a little more careful with the goods there…” Jake says, and he feels like throwing up a little, although honestly he’s not sure if that’s in response to seeing himself through someone else’s eyes or if he’s feeling Rooster’s concussion. This is already a colossal mindfuck and he’s only been awake for a few minutes.

                “Yeah, you too. Are you feeling okay? I was feeling pretty shit yesterday.”

                “I can confirm this body still feels like shit.”

                “Okay, here, drink some water. I’m allowed to take some ibuprofen. That’ll help.”

                “We need to report this?”

                “No! Fuck. No… I mean, maybe it’s just a short 24 hour thing?”

                “You think it’s like a stomach bug? You think people just change bodies with someone and it goes away overnight?”

                “You have any smarter ideas? I want on the next transport off, and if they think I’m not stable enough to travel… or if something is wrong –”

                “There is something wrong!” Jake hisses, because he is not okay with this. Maybe if he wasn’t feeling like he’d ejected and then crash landed he’d be more… relaxed. Fuck if he knows. He can’t argue with wanting to get back to shore though.

                “Okay, there is. But let’s get back to shore, RTB and then… figure out a plan of attack.”

                “Oh, I cannot wait to hear what you think might work.”

                “Shut up.”

                The door to the sickbay opens again and they both turn to look at the corpsman entering the room.

                “Morning lieutenants. Any reason you’re here Lieutenant Seresin? Not bothering my patient I hope?”

                “Not at all, I just needed, uh, wanted to check on him…”

                Jake watches his own neck flush in embarrassment, and hmm, that’s interesting.

                “He can, uh, stay, while you check me over,” Jake says, because he has no clue what Rooster was like last night, over than alive. He’d been fine on deck right after Mav had (crash) landed, but he suspects adrenaline had been carrying them both forward for the most part. Now it’s been over 24 hours and he’s pretty sure Rooster’s ankle might be broken, given the sharp increase in pain as it dangles freely. He has no idea where Mav has fucking disappeared to, but he’d been here yesterday when he’d popped in for a quick check-in with some of the others.

                “Well, okay. Let’s look at your ankle first. I hope you weren’t seriously considering walking on it after what I told you last night.”

                “Sorry, forgot. Really need to piss,” he states, which is partial truth and lie. He couldn’t forget something he didn’t know.

                “Hmm. Here then.”

                Jake takes the container and chances a quick glance at Bradley who is fucking smirking at him with his own damn face. Unbelievable.

                “Nothing I ain’t seen before sailor…”

                Jake feels heat flood his face for no good reason and that’s mortifying, he’d take his own neck flush of embarrassment over this any day. Of course Bradshaw means it because it’s his fucking body, but the look the medic is giving them is amused, clearly having drawn their own conclusions and Bradshaw is looking completely unrepentant. Asshole.

TWO

[doe-eyed-dreamr]

hi!! would you be able to do a fic of snufkin taking care of a sick regressor? if you could make the regressor aged 3-4 that would be great!! tysm!!!!!!

Of course! I'm so sorry this took so long, I was actually feeling pretty unwell myself so I was struggling to get any writing done. I also have emetophobia so I had to be a little vague with the illness I hope that's okay ʕ`•̥ᴥ•̥`ʔ

I really like how this came out though and I hope you do too! <3

Snufkin Cares for Sick Little Reader <3

It's been a long couple of days. You figured you were safe from sickness as the weather warmed, but unfortunately the Valley had other ideas. Stuck in bed while the others went off to play and seek adventure had you grumbly and moodier than usual.

It just wasn't fair! How come you are the only one who can't get their limbs to cooperate when you try to get up and walk around? And that was without mentioning the fever and icky tummy.

But Moomin has promised today will be different. He and the others have gone into the woodland to find a rare plant Moominmama spied in Granny's notes that will hopefully bring your temperature down and give you a little more energy.

Snufkin had volunteered to stay back and take care of you. When asked if he was sure (he did have the best eye for plants among the group after all), he pointed them in the direction of the Hemulen (who's eye was even better than his when it came to flora and fauna) and said he was needed more by your side today.

You hadn't known what he meant by that until you felt it. That telltale fuzzy feeling in the back of your mind.

Everything is just so hard right now. You're tired and achy and nothing feels good to eat and all you want to do is cry and stomp your feet.

You're regressing.

It shouldn't be a surprise - days of feeling icky and not being able to play with your friends? A recipe for disaster. Luckily, Snufkin had noticed and appointed himself caregiver for the day.

"It's okay to let go." He says, eyes tilted towards the sky as you both lay out on the grass, cushions from Moominmama propping you up and keeping you comfortable while the gentle breeze attempts to wash your fever away. "I'm here. I've got you."

You feel the tears well up as soon as he finishes speaking. Any resistance you might've felt melts away and you allow yourself to feel miserable in the only way a toddler knows how. You let the tears fall with a whimper and soon you're cradled against a soft green coat, rocking in a soothing motion while you wail.

"I know, I know little one." Snufkin coos. "You've been so brave, haven't you? I know it hurts but I just know you'll feel better soon."

He places a small kiss against your head, and keeps talking when the tears slow.

"And when you do, we'll go on as many adventures as you'd like. To the beach, to the woods, even soaring through the sky. Anything you can dream up, angel."

"Da others be there?" You question, one hand rubbing at your eyes and the other clutching at Snufkin's coat as if scared he might disappear.

Snufkin chuckles and takes over wiping away your tears, much gentler than you yourself had been. He produces a pacifier from his pocket and clips it to your own clothes, giving you the comfort of knowing it's there without pressuring you to use it if you aren't quite feeling young enough.

"Yes, the others will be back as soon as they can be. And you know they love to play with you, whatever age you feel on the inside. I bet each of them has an idea for an adventure, we can ask them later if you'd like?"

You nod quickly, then pout when your head hurts at the motion.

"Owie."

Snufkin kisses your forehead with sympathetic eyes.

"I know, sweet one. Do you think you could manage some soup? I made some earlier and it might help hydrate you more than water. I'd hope it'd be tastier too." He adds, noting your scrunched nose at the mention of water. It feels like all you've been doing these past days is drinking water.

You nod slowly, hoping the food goes down well this time. If Snufkin says it's a good idea, you're going to believe him.

You didn't, however, factor in the fact your friend would have to get up to fetch the food.

A whine passes your lips and you cling on even tighter to his coat.

"Nuh uh! Snuf'in stay!" You protest. Snufkin hushes you, stroking your hair till you calm a little.

"Easy, sweetheart." He coos again. "I'll be right back. Count to ten for me, okay?"

You do so reluctantly, counting between shaky breathes the longer Snufkin is away from you. He smiles encouragingly as he emerges from his tent, large flask in hand.

"There." He says, plopping back beside you before you've even reached the number ten. "I'm so proud of you, little one. I know that was hard."

You get another kiss to your head for your efforts and you can't help the smile that overtakes you. Snukin is proud of you!

"There's that sweet smile." Snufkin says, smiling back as he opens the lid of the flask and pours some soup into it. "Now, I'm going to hold this, just sip carefully okay? And we'll see how you feel once you've tried some."

The task sounds simple enough, and you nod your head with determination. Snufkin boops your nose, and then lifts the soup to your mouth for you to take the first sip.

It's DELICIOUS.

Your eyes widen and Snufkin pulls the lid back as you attempt to gulp all of it down at once.

"Ah ah, not so fast." He says. "I'm glad you like it, but you have to take it easy at first, okay?"

You pout, but nod. Snufkin giggles.

"Okay." He says, bringing the soup to your mouth again.

You sip much more slowly this time, basking in the warmth of the food and the ache in your head fading into the background.

When you can't drink anymore, Snufkin closes the flask and rolls it away from you both, pulling you in to snuggle against him again.

"Now. I think a nap is in order, then by the time you wake up the others should be here to help you feel all better. How's that sound?"

At your clear hesitation, Snufkin continues.

"We can take a nap right here beneath the sky. Together."

You smile and hum in confirmation, allowing Snufkin to lower you both onto the cushions. He tucks your head under his chin, curling into one another, and begins to hum.

The tune isn't a familar one, most likely taking inspiration from the wind, the rustling leaves, the bubble of the stream not so far away.

It sounds like home, and you allow yourself to drift, knowing you are safe, and you are loved.