#i was like oh shit i didn’t know he knew how to do that

[corollaservant]

Night in the Net // Shigaraki x f! reader (18+)

⟡ Synopsis: You find yourself stranded in one hell of a sexist environment: the small town's internet café. Shigaraki's on the night shift. (3.6k)

⟡ Warnings: sex with Shiggy basically, mild degradation and misogyny from our fav incel, dom!Shiggy with a twist (no quirk obviously), use of “dollface” (i like it)

⟡ A/N: No dark themes here, peace n luv. Also.. yeah he is always linked to some gaming/electronic business ik!! but I like the trope/hc/almost canon.

You'd never imagine this was how your night would end.

Why are you there again? Right, your friends wanted to go to that after party, as if the club wasn't enough. What was supposed to be a night out ended up with you in the local internet café (the only after hours spot) while your friends decided to go to a house party with loud techno music, which definitely wasn’t your vibe. You and your friends lived close and would often call a taxi on your way home, money wasn’t enough for you to ride solo today though—you prayed in times like these that you at least had a job; you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone then. 

You knew pretty much everyone there, it’s not like the town had more than ten thousand residents and considering the age group and schools you’d all gone to, the internet café only had a few unknown members. On today’s shift was none other than Tomura of course, that guy was taking up as many shifts as his body would allow him to, apparently there was this rumor a family member was in crucial condition and they were in need. Tomura Shigaraki was one of these people you had branded as incel. Though hardworking (he kept a house of his own, cleaning and doing all chores by himself while providing for whomever he had), you still considered the guy as one. Now—you know the term is heavy, matter of fact, quite offending and serious as an allegation but it’s not like there weren’t rumors. Rumors he’d bash women and call them prostitutes, try to sleep with girls and trash them to his friends a day later, hating them for anything they did and claiming true love didn’t exist nowadays because “all women are sluts, who need money and validation.” Plus, he worked at the local internet café (should be enough reason), engaging in heated conversations with his friends and fellow streamers. God, one look in their chats and you'd get as violent as possible— (not much, you'd discovered it the hard way). Thus, it was no surprise that when you enter the place, you hear whispers and scoffs.

‘’The hell are you doing here?’’ A voice was heard from within, the café had the computer screens up front, a bar and a couch with TV in the back. Tomura was occupied in the designated bar the place had (you often wondered what kind of needs these people had—all they ever consumed was energy drinks and pre-packaged meals, takeouts were for reasons of competitive market prohibited). You take a deep breath.

‘’Just dropping by for a couple of hours, will leave soon.’’ You sigh as you take a seat on the couch, not bothering to talk to anyone, it wasn’t like they cared anyway. Loud noise and laughter can be heard all around, a couple of guys swearing and some younger boys excitedly standing above their screens. The store had a 16+ policy, but of course, no one ever checked so kids could practically stare unattended. Tomura also encouraged younger boys to play, such a piece of shit, you think, getting them to learn young. 

‘’Oh my fucking God, a slut just joined!’’ You hear from the front, some guy swears, presumably because a girl had joined their online server. These guys were so disgusting, you cringe, it was no wonder they were celibate without wanting it. You stand up, you need to kill some time and you're feeling bored, you think about starting a fight with Tomura, how else could you have a little bit of fun?

You weren’t ever necessarily afraid of the guy, even though you have to admit, he looks intimidating. Quite tall with a pale complexion, ashy dull hair and scars across his face; no one actually knew much about him and whether he was troubled, it’s not like he ever showed to work beaten up or high and usually kept a low profile. The only frightening thing this man had was his smile, it terrified you sometimes as it looked downright evil. 

‘’Getting them to learn young, huh?’’ You ask him, he’s washing up some cups from the previous round of gross gaming guys, who have now left.

‘’What?’’ He responds, not bothering to look up. 

‘’How to not get women, I mean.’’ You sigh as he huffs  in annoyance.

‘’You should be grateful I let a female in my store in the first place.’’ He retorts, but doesn’t seem very angry, just ironic. Usual.

My store (you decide to skip over 'female') sounds funny but you choose not to comment on it. 

‘’So how long until you guys close?’’ You ask, not bothering to fight his vocabulary—it’s routine at this point. It also never ends well and you had a great night so far, why ruin it now?

‘’Two hours.’’ 

‘’Mind if I sit on the couch? I’ll be quiet I promise’’ You ask—technically beg, as you see no other options.

‘’Ugh.. yeah I mind. There’s some guys wanting to use it, I have a group for GTA on the PS5.’’

‘’Seriously? People still play that?’’ You whine but force yourself to continue.

 ‘’Can I sit with you then?’’ It takes strength—but you say it regardless. You came to terms with the fact he was your last resort minutes ago.

‘’Sure. But you need to make yourself useful. Here, take this.’’ He hands you a wet sponge, ‘’Wash these up—carefully, while I go clean the floors.’’ He orders, as if you’re part of the staff (and new on the job apparently.)

‘’Do you actually want me to wash freaking dishes? I just came here to chill, I don’t even bother anyone!’’ You start feeling annoyed with the chores, you aren’t 16 and he isn’t your mom.

‘’You can always leave.’’ He simply states, the running tap stops and he turns to you, practically shoving the wet gloves on your chest. 

‘’Or...you can stop being a brat and be of use during your stay, I have two hours left.’’ He smiles, that same smile that makes your skin crawl and blood boil as he moves away.

‘’Fuck! My dress, you asshole!’’ A wet patch is now covering the too short dress as you glance at the time on your phone. 

Two hours. Two hours until your friends leave and he closes up anyway.

-

Tomura was at least true to his words. Within two insufferable hours of having to listen to appalling conversations between men (hardly to be considered as such), plate washing and the toilet being constantly occupied, the last customers get up to leave. 

You dry your hands and plop down the couch exhausted.

‘’Finally.’’ You exhale checking your phone, your friends hadn’t given you any life signs in the meantime, so you decide to patiently wait, they’d message eventually. Tomura is done sweeping the nasty floors from crumbs and dried Monster remnants, which he still has to mop (for the fourth time, you note and you've only been there some hours). You notice how restless he seems—the guy has been running the whole night after ignorant customers, who had not once shown basic respect for the order of the place yet never complained. Truly a shame he has such a misogynistic mindset, you think. He could get women, if he wanted to. 

It’s around 6:30 AM, when he presses a button to close the store's roll-up shutters halfway. Small light outside makes its way in but the place is still relatively dark, as he places the mop near the wall and takes a seat next to you.

‘’Fuuck, I’m so tired.’’ He sighs, making sure to spread his legs on the couch as much as he can, not caring (of course) about you also sitting on it. 

You always branded Tomura as an incel, that you knew about. But despite that, you now can’t help but feel for him, not knowing much about him at the same time. Sure, he technically isn’t the nicest guy but a look around would show you that he tries enough for a job kicking his ass. You find yourself sympathizing with a man, whose ideals you hate and try to brush these thoughts off.

‘’And why the fuck am I an incel anyway?’’ He asks, his head rests on the couch and his eyes are closed, he is scrunching severely—almost threatening to fall down. And he manspreads. A lot.

‘’W-well– I..’’ You never thought he’d caught on to that, stammering to stand your ground as you continue. ‘’Well, there have been rumors about you.’’ You say, but it doesn’t come off as confident as you’d hoped for. You also realize, it sounds kind of stupid.

‘’Reaaally? And you made sure to believe them, right?’’ His tone’s laced with irony but the way he talks—like he whispers in a raspy voice doesn't annoy you anymore. It makes you more... uncomfortable? On the edge? Excited?...what?

‘’It’s not like you don’t claim it yourself.’’ You retort, finally finding some courage. You notice him looking at you as you awkwardly shuffle in your seat.

‘’All I’ve ever said was that I think women are good for nothing. And I still believe that, but I wouldn’t waste more of my time on that.’’ The statement makes you roll your eyes.

‘’How can you generalize a whole group of people, who are literally in no way inferior to you, you can’t tell me you’ve tried—’’ 

‘’Listen dollface, unless you want to change my mind there’s no reason to fuss that much, my opinion won’t change.’’

Unless you want to change my mind?

‘’I-I don’t.’’ You stammer, because the answer and pet name (dollface??) takes you by surprise and he laughs.

‘’Relax, you branded me an incel.’’ he jokes, ‘’don’t want the rape allegations on me too.’’ 

The more he talks, the more your mind races and you curse yourself. He seems..funny? He has a mole under his lips—fuck, it looks cute...and he also looks good so (stupid as it was, yes!) you’d lie to yourself, if you say you don't want his attention. Why can’t he just look you in the eyes more?

This is so wrong. He must've noticed your lost gaze as he speaks up.

‘’Wanna watch a movie?’’ He proposes and you silently nod, anything is better than the silence hanging in the air. Silence you caused. For thinking... things about him. 

Of course Tomura ends up choosing the most depressing film anyone can possibly watch in an internet café at 6 AM, Fallen Angels, and the dramatic cuts make it hard for you to concentrate. He at a certain point leans closer to you but you justify it, how else would he be able to see?

During this one scene, the woman pleasured herself with her legs closed, rubbing together and that’s when you feel a soft hand touch on your thigh. The dress you wore rode up, because your legs rested on the table ahead so it gave him the space he needed. The movement made you tingle and your core involuntarily contracted. The smooth fingers teasingly trailed up and down your leg, from your knees to your inner thighs. You didn’t want to look at him—he was too close and the scene seemed endless. But…he went on about it as if nothing was happening. 

Without saying a word, he carries on. A pad of his finger tip is dangerously close to your now heated entrance, the images flashing before your eyes lewd, his hand tempting and threatening to reach your already soaked cunt—all this while the two of you hadn’t even shared a kiss. But he doesn't stop, looking ahead and acting like everything’s fine, until he touches your lower lips and you hiss, his finger traces the wet spot over your underwear while you try to move and speak up. 

‘’W–what are y—’’

‘’Shh..’’ is all he says. 

You want to tell him no. But no to what? You like the feeling of his two fingers against your folds. His palm moves your panties to the side and he stuffs them inside—they dampen from the fluids. How is he that quick? You can’t form a response but you’re about to ask him why—

‘’All that and I haven’t even kissed you.’’ He murmurs, gaze still fixated on the television ahead as you moan, when he slowly pumps them within your walls. Fuck, are you turned on by this?

‘’P-please..’’ You whisper, turning to look at him and for the first time, his eyes are removed from the stupid TV, a sly smile on his features as he tears away his hand.

‘’What is it? Want the incel to kiss you? Maybe even fuck you to prove a point?’’ He says and you frown.

‘’I—no, I have to go.’’ You get up, fixing (lowering) your dress—you have nowhere to go but you’ll figure it out eventually. You think staying longer only plays into his cruel intentions and whilst you can’t deny the pleasure he could give you, your pride’s in the way.

‘’You’re not going anywhere.’’ A wet hand clasps around your wrist and brings you on his lap, as he grins— you seem confused at the sensation. You are hiding the TV screen but he couldn't care less, he never paid attention to the movie.

‘’Feel the stain you left, too?’’ He says as he brings your face closer with the sticky palm grabbing you by the hair. You softly moan, noticing the small mole up close and feeling a bulge poke where your bodies meet. You sway your hips in a silent effort to have him initiate a kiss—you feel desperate and curse yourself again internally. He can only smile.

You were so clueless, prancing around in that slutty dress earlier—making him hard like that, did you even know it?

He’s quick to kiss you, eager for more already, as mouths clash, teeth collide, the need you both have exceeds proper manners. You sloppily grind against him, the friction from a long outline beneath you makes it hard to think.

‘’I’m guessing, you’re really fucking the incel then.’’ He half smirks as he grabs you and repositions you to sit on his now fully hard cock that throbs in his pants; he lifts your dress above your ass and guides your hips sluggishly back and forth— he’s tormenting you and he enjoys it to the fullest.

‘’T-tomura..p-please.’’ You mewl, the urge to have him inside you makes you blabber.

‘’Please what?’’ He slides a hand behind your waist, lowering it to find your slit from behind, his fingers pet your cunt and you moan. Loudly. He is tugging at your panties, the fabric annoys him and he wants full access and the words. The words to prove his point.

‘’P–please.. fuck me already!’’ You breathe out and he groans to the sound of your voice. 

The ironic remark he’d prepared evaporates as he quickly pushes you back, just enough to not fall off his lap and quickly unzips his pants, thanking God for not wearing a belt. 

His pants and underwear are sloppily moved down his knees, as his cock jumps with a pop on his lower abdomen, stiff with a weeping tip. Pretty veins throb around it as your eyes widen.

Shit, he’s big, can you take him?

‘’I’d ask for a nice blowjob, dollface, but wouldn’t want the feminists after me.’’ He says as he brings you close, kissing you yet again, a string of spit runs down your jaw, as your hands roam his tangled, uncombed hair. 

He positions you on his cock, one hand snakes around your waist while the other one clings to the back of your scalp and you’re swiftly lifted by the head and pushed down on him, as you let out a scream.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ He hisses, quickly looking around, the sensation from almost his whole length makes you tremble, he feels too full, too painful..too good.

‘’Shit, c’mon now you got this.’’ He encourages as you hesitantly move up and down his cock, gripping his shoulders and looking at him—he seems more concentrated on the sensation than your body, staring at you while you wrap around his length.

‘’Fuck..dollface, this too much for ya?’’ He tries not to grunt and you give your best not to cry, each moment that goes by turning the initial pain to pleasure—your cunt adjusts slowly and bit by bit to his girth. 

‘’T-tomura.. y-yes..it’s too much!’’ You whine, sweat forms in your forehead as his hands find your swollen clit and circle it while your nails dig deeper in his shirt.

‘’You can take it.’’ He says, he feels your cunt squeezing him in, you bounce with dedication on his legs, making the couch squeak as if on some sex tape—you want to bring yourself even closer. So nasty, aren't you? Acting righteous, only to fuck yourself on his cock like a desperate whore.

‘’I-ugh-p-please..’’ You try to speak but he secures his hand around your torso and sinks (lower than before) down the couch. Two strong hands force you to stay still in the air while he drills himself into you at a steady pace—kind of sloppily too. Both of you moan, the position gives equal pleasure, your clit bumps on his groin and his cock reaches your g-spot with ease.

‘’S–Shit, you’re squeezing way too much, haven’t you been fucked like this before?’’ He sounds annoyed but the stammer in his voice betrays him.

Not like this, you want to say but can’t really speak the words. Your weight falls entirely on him, he doesn’t mind one bit—he loves it actually, this skin on skin contact as he guides you on his cock, it feels surreal. He hits soft and spongy spots inside while you slowly fall apart. 

‘’T-Tomura right there..I ugh—I'm close!’’ The sensation overwhelms you, his eyes are still fixated on your face, yeah I can tell, he thinks. He gets off on your desperation, mouth parted all for him? Your eyes threaten to spill by the way he tears apart your cunt and morals bit by bit.. it’s—

‘’Tomura, aren't you closing yet?’’ Someone asks from outside, interrupting the moment. The shutters only show a pair of shoes. 

‘’Yeah, I’m on it.’’ Shigaraki stops composed, cockwarming you in a funny way, while a hand—his hand covers your mouth. Your eyes widen as slick trickles down his thighs in silence.

‘’Alright, see you then.’’ The man leaves and he cusses him out. (''Cunt.'')

‘’We’re not done.’’ He turns his attention back to you and seizes your face, bringing your mouth closer.

‘’Open up.’’ He orders and you do—clenching around him in anticipation.

He spits in it and closes the gap with his index finger. 

‘’Swallow or I won’t continue.’’ You quickly gulp down.

‘’So obedient all of a sudden, aren't you?’’ Sarcasm laces the words as he gives your ass a solid hit, before starting to get back on his pace, only more rough this time, he longs for your release on him. You’re moving up and down his length, trying to grab anything accessible really, his hair, the back of the couch, under his shirt and you feel your orgasm resurface stronger—the delay has highlighted all of your senses.

‘’T-Tomura—’’ You shudder, as his cock hits your g-spot expertly–fuck, this guy wasn't some incel–and your swollen clit has to brush one last time past his groin before you feel an overwhelming orgasm take over. You clamp down his length and moan embarrassingly. (Fuck Tomura! I–I'm.. too good!) This time.. he lets you, he needs to hear this.

‘’Fuuck—agh– look at you dollface.’’ He hums, a feminist creaming herself on my cock, he wants to add but it’s too many words and you just came so he wastes no time. He brings your neck close to his mouth and bites on it, teeth sink into your flesh and hands force you all the way down. He cums inside, groaning and trying to stifle his moans by biting down the sensitive skin even harder. 

And fuck if that isn’t hot.

He keeps you on him, arms fastening your waist, cum dripping on his lowered pants but neither of you bother to care, ragged breaths and the sounds of the film still playing as more light enters through the rolled shutters.

God must’ve been on your side that day because a message appears on your screen moments after you both wordlessly got up and cleaned yourselves in the bathroom. Tomura would have to clean again, you think, as the message on your phone signals your time to leave.

You turn to look at him, he has removed his shirt and small nail scratches decorate his pale back and you..smile. What the hell? Was this..? Oh no—You try to find an appropriate goodbye.

See you soon? Thanks for the mind blowing dick? You aren’t the incel I thought you were? Everything seems embarrassing at present time. 

‘’I-I’ll be seeing you soon.’’ You opt for that, stupid as it is, you still look at him in anticipation. He turns to you, hands on the mop cleaning near the couch and nods. 

Great, you think, that was a disaster. You defeatedly walk (actually stoop to get past the almost closed door) feeling like a hooker after a client, miserable and kind of used. This is always the worst part. 

You feel an arm touch your shoulder, you’ve only taken a few steps in the daylight.

‘’Take this in case you revoke your incel statement.’’

Tomura hands you a piece of paper and quickly disappears behind the store’s shadows.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Congrats on 3K followers, which you so deserve! My request is because The Hold Steady's song "Stuck Between Stations" is stuck in my head and the lyric is, shockingly, "Tonight it's like he's stuck between stations". Have a wonderful writing weekend!

Thank you so much! I decided to take this super literally and do something a little silly. Hope you enjoy!

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

The train was late, but what else is new?

Eddie watched the board as the estimated arrival time kept going up. He’d have to text Elliot to let him know he’d be late for their appointment.

At least Elliot was a regular client of his and would understand.

Eventually, only 18 minutes late, the train arrived.

Eddie shoved through the crowd to get on, not even caring if he had to stand sandwiched between sweaty people as long as he got to his shop.

By some miracle, he managed to get the only empty seat left at the back of the car.

And it was next to possibly the hottest guy he’d ever seen.

He was wearing tight jeans and a polo, glasses, a nose ring, and his hair was perfectly mussed. Eddie was such a sucker for the preppy hipster look. It never turned out well for him, but dammit if he didn’t try anyway.

“Mind if I sit?” Eddie asked the guy.

“Nope,” he replied, not even looking up from his phone.

He was furiously typing something, and Eddie was doing his best to not read anything.

But it sure was difficult and Eddie had pretty good eyesight and also never learned manners.

It’s not even that she left me for someone else. She tried to say that my coming out as bi ruined our relationship. Our relationship was ruined way before that! And she knew saying that would make me feel like shit so-

“Am I entertaining you?” The guy said from next to him.

Eddie startled and looked up, right into the warmest brown eyes he’d ever looked into.

“Sorry. It kinda seemed like you were working on a novel. I’m an avid reader.”

The man snorted and put his phone face down on his leg. “I’m Steve. You should at least know my name if you’re gonna know my business.”

“Eddie. I am sorry. Even more sorry your ex was clearly a piece of shit,” Eddie nudged his shoulder with his own.

The train started moving and Eddie glanced up at crowd of people in the car.

“Yeah, well. It was bound to happen. I wanted to settle down, she wanted to travel and focus on her career. Would’ve never worked,” Steve sighed. “Onto the next!”

Eddie snorted. “How long were you together?”

“Three years.”

“Ouch.”

“It was coming for a while,” Steve shrugged. “I feel like I mourned the relationship while I was still in it. Plus, she moved in with her new boyfriend, so it’s only a matter of time before I move in with mine.”

Eddie felt a weird pain in his chest. “Oh, you’ve got a boyfriend?”

Steve smirked at him. “Not yet.”

The train slowed and then came to a stop. The usual announcement for the next station didn’t start. Instead, an announcement let them know they were experiencing a short delay.

Eddie groaned and let his head hit the window next to him.

“I’m sure my shoulder is more comfortable than the window.”

Eddie’s head shot up at Steve’s suggestion.

Steve was blushing, looking down at his phone like he hadn’t even spoken. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe Eddie imagined it.

“If you want. The last short delay took 25 minutes,” Steve continued, finally looking over at Eddie with a small smile.

“I have to let my client know I’m gonna be even later,” Eddie pulled his phone from his pocket to send another text. It may not go through underground, but at least he could say he tried.

“Client? Are you a therapist?”

“Close. Tattoo artist,” Eddie finished up the text and put his phone back in his pocket.

“Oh, my friend Will is a tattoo artist! He keeps telling me to get something, but I’m not the biggest fan of needles.” Steve looked apologetic. “I’m worried I’d pass out.”

Eddie was already planning exactly what he’d tattoo on Steve’s body.

“You’d be surprised how many people I tattoo who don’t like needles. Is it a pain thing or just the needles in general?”

“Both? I guess?” Steve was slowly leaning closer to Eddie’s side.

“Well, the pain is easy. I have a numbing cream I recommend to first timers or people getting something done in an especially sensitive spot that works great.” Eddie let his arm rest across the back of the seat, skin brushing against Steve’s back. “The other part is a little harder, but usually I go the old school distractions method.”

“Like a toddler with a shot?” Steve laughed.

“Exactly! I play music they like or put on a show they wanna watch. Sometimes we just talk the whole time. Sometimes they prefer to just close their eyes and pretend they’re somewhere else. Everyone’s different.”

Eddie watched Steve soak in that information. He technically didn’t take walk-ins anymore except for special events, but he’d be willing to have Steve in his chair right after Elliot’s appointment. He’d stay late. He’d do it for free if it meant having his hands on Steve’s skin.

“Have you ever had someone leave before it’s done?”

“Twice,” Eddie nodded. “Once was a drunk guy who insisted he was sober enough to do the tattoo and halfway through, he threw up and then just walked out. Don’t know if he ever bothered to get it done. The other was a woman who had chosen her ribs as her first tattoo ever. Don’t ever do that, by the way. Not a great start. She quit on the second word of the lyrics she was getting.”

Steve snorted. “What were the lyrics?”

“I hate to say it, but I don’t remember. I’m sure she regrets even trying all the time.”

Steve laughed again and leaned his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie let his arm wrap around Steve’s shoulder and squeeze.

“So? You gonna get one? Did I convince you?” Eddie said quietly. He didn’t want to ruin this moment between them, stuck between stations for the foreseeable future.

“Hm. I’ll consider it. Do you have room on your books for me?” Steve turned his face into Eddie’s shirt.

“I’m sure I can make room for you, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart already? What a sweet talker you are,” Steve mumbled against his shoulder.

“I read people pretty well and you are a sweetheart. No doubt about it.”

Steve groaned. “Are you always like this?”

“Not at all.”

Something in Eddie’s voice must have sounded genuine. Steve looked up at him, his face close enough to Eddie’s to feel his breath.

“This is kind of crazy.”

“What is?”

“This. I feel safe here with you. I’m ready to let you give me a tattoo even though I hate needles.”

Eddie’s fingers traced patterns along his upper arm, mindlessly planning out a tattoo already.

“Could give you one right here,” Eddie tapped his bicep. “Something small, dainty linework, a sunflower maybe.”

“A sunflower? Isn’t that kinda feminine?” Steve’s fingers were tracing a pattern on Eddie’s thigh. “Not that I’m against it because of that, it just doesn’t seem to fit me.”

And maybe yeah, if Eddie thought about it, he could see how Steve’s body type was thicker, muscular, closer to jock than city hipster living off of coffee and cigarettes. Flowers might not be the first thing someone would think of when looking at Steve.

But when talking to him, when seeing how soft he got with an arm around him, how he turned into the affection, it was pretty obvious he should be covered in delicate work.

He deserves delicate things, Eddie could already tell.

He wanted to give him that.

He wanted to give him anything.

“Someone as radiant as you needs something that represents that. Anytime you’re ready,” Eddie couldn’t help the kiss he pressed to the top of Steve’s head.

The short delay turned into a long delay, but Steve and Eddie talked the entire time. When they finally got moving, Steve stayed on even though the next station was his stop.

“Think I’d like this tattoo artist to take my tattoo virginity,” Steve smirked at him as the train started moving again.

“As long as you’re okay sitting through my appointment first. Might get boring.”

“Doubt being near you could ever be boring.”

Getting stuck on the train with Steve turned into barely leaving his side for weeks, months, years.

Nothing felt as natural as being with his sunflower.

[ramblingoak]

Little Thief

Secondo x Female Reader

A little yeehaw!Secondo story for my dearest friendo @kissingghouls. Happy Birthday to my favorite haunted painting! I hope you have the most amazing day because you deserve only amazing things 💙 (special thank you to @tasty-ribz for the perfect Secondo art)

Warnings: gun violence, smut, nsfw 18+ only, mdni, 5,700 words, this does have a connection to The Cardinal's Bride universe but you can enjoy this just fine on its own! (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

Coming here was a mistake.

You jumped over the bar as the bullets started flying, ducking down and throwing an arm over your head when the liquor bottles began shattering above you.  The Ministry was a big mark, way bigger than you had ever hit before, and you knew, you knew that it was going to be risky.  You just hadn’t expected this to happen.  Although at least the gunfight wasn’t your fault.

This time.

A body crashed down next to you, lifeless and still.  With a grunt you turned it over to search for their gun.  It was still in its holster so you yanked it out, pausing to shove your hand into their back pocket and take their wallet too.  It’s not like they were gonna need either anyway.  You rolled onto your knees, carefully putting your hands at the edge of the bartop to take a peek over.  

“Well, shit.”

Chaos was still reigning over the casino floor but fortunately now it was mostly fist fights.  The Ghouls that worked here had made quick work of most of those that had started shooting.  You could see a small pile of bodies forming already.  The two big Ghouls that were working the door that night easily lugging the men around.  They were distracted enough you glanced towards the door, knowing that you needed to get out of there soon.  Especially before any deputies arrived.  

Lowering yourself back down you started crawling towards the door, keeping behind the bar and trying to avoid the broken glass.  Tonight had been such a damn waste.  You should have just skipped the town altogether.  This is what happened when you got cocky but damn, you had gotten tired of doing small jobs.  Stealing from a big casino, from The Ministry of all places, would have been perfect.  And it would have given you enough money to have a little breathing room before your next job.

Oh well, you had gotten a decent enough amount from cheating at cards.  It was enough to get you a room in the next town over for a few weeks at least.  You reached the end of the bar and started to pull yourself up for one last look.  Unfortunately you weren’t met with a view of the casino floor like you expected.  Instead you ended up face to face with the man that ran The Ministry, a man you had heard enough about to know you should avoid him at all costs.

“Going somewhere?”  Secondo’s tone was bored, his eyes raking over you briefly before he turned his attention to the glass of whiskey in his hand.  “That’s a shame, I was hoping you’d stay a little longer.”

“Oh?  Why is that?”

You knew you should’ve just kept your mouth shut and made a run for the door.  The Ghouls were still occupied enough sorting through who needed to be kicked or carried out that you doubted any of them would try to stop you.  The chance of this man trying to stop you though had you frozen in place.

“I was curious how much more of my money you would steal.”

Fuck.  You glanced towards the door but Secondo was smirking when you looked back so you stayed put.  There was no way you’d make it now.  He might be surrounded by his Ghouls but you’d heard enough stories about Papa Secondo to have a healthy amount of fear of him.  Enough to realize you definitely shouldn’t have come here.  You took a fortifying breath and squared your shoulders while you stared him down.

Time to see if you could talk yourself out of trouble.

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“Come now, I’m not an idiot.”  He took a sip of his drink before continuing,  “And despite you thinking you could get away with stealing from me I don’t think you’re one either.”

“A compliment from Papa?  Sounds like something I should brag about.”  When those odd eyes of his flashed to yours you reached out and grabbed the drink from his hands, knocking back a mouthful before setting it down.  “Kind of like how I’d brag about stealing from you.  You know, if I had done that.”

“Are you sure?  Because I’ve been watching you most of the night.”  His voice had dropped an octave and he’d turned to give you his full attention.  “Ever since my associate Mist told me what you were up to.”

“Mist?”

“She’s at the end of the bar now.  Watching.”  You looked down to see a woman with piercing blue eyes leaning against the bar.  When you turned back to Secondo he had leaned in close and his breath danced across your cheek with his next words.  “She thinks you will do something stupid.”

“The only stupid thing I did tonight was come here.”  He narrowed his eyes at your comment but you continued anyway,  “Your games are terrible and this whiskey is mostly water.”

You weren’t sure what you had been expecting him to do at your insults.  Threaten you maybe.  At worst try to grab you and then who knows what.  Mist certainly seemed the type to do whatever her boss told her to do.  But all Secondo did was laugh, the sound drew the attention of some of the other Ghouls but they got back to cleaning quickly.  

“Ma dài, bellezza?  Sei una terribile bugiarda.”

“What did you call me?”  Secondo’s only answer was to let his eyes wander over you again before taking another drink.  “Answer me.”

“A terrible liar.”  His smirk returned when he saw your face turning red.  “But I suppose I could also call you a terrible thief.”

“A lot of words just to call me a liar.”

“Unfortunately the other ones will cost you.”  

Secondo stepped around the end of the bar to stand beside you.  To have him so close was…intoxicating was the only word you could think of.  Despite the danger he posed you there was no denying that he was an extremely handsome man.  His presence alone commanded attention, respect and a healthy dose of fear if you had wronged him.  But your heart wasn’t racing just because you had a pocketful of money you’d stolen from him.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to give you.”  You teasingly patted the sides of your jacket, taking a moment to flash it open so he could see the gun holstered at your hip.  “So how about we call it a night before anything else happens.”

“What could happen?”  He reached over to one of the few unbroken bottles along the wall and poured himself another drink.  “Would you continue to cheat at cards?”

“I didn’t fucking cheat.”

“Or perhaps there’s a pair of loaded dice hidden in a pocket somewhere.”  Secondo took a step closer, pinning you against the bar.  “Would you let me look, ladruncola?”

It irritated you how badly you wanted to say ‘yes’ but honestly the longer he looked at you like that the more you wanted him to.  Up close he smelled so good, he looked good too.  His clothes were immaculate, down to the green handkerchief peeking out of his vest pocket.  There wasn’t any harm in enjoying his company for the evening, right?

Especially if it got you out of trouble.

“As long as you search me in your room and not at the bar.”  You found yourself returning his pleased smile but a flash of something reflecting in the glass of the bottle behind him had your chest seizing.  One hand went for your gun while your other grabbed ahold of Secondo’s vest and you shoved him to the side with all your might.  “Get down!”

Secondo cursed as the bottle shattered and you ducked to the side as you turned with your gun raised.  A few tables from the bar one of the men that started the fight was standing with his own gun pointed your way.  Secondo’s way.  He snarled and moved to point it at you but he was too late, you let out two shots that hit him in the chest and had his body jerking backwards.  The nearest Ghoul kicked the gun out of his hand but you knew he wouldn’t be getting up from that.

“Well, well.”  You turned to look down at Secondo, relieved to see him unhurt but also smirking at you.  Even if it was infuriating.  “Grazie, ladruncola.”

“What does that mean?”  Secondo took your offered hand, rising from the floor elegantly.  He nodded towards Mist when she wandered over and she quickly turned away to go to the other Ghouls.  When you tried to pull your hand back he held it tighter, his thumb sweeping across your knuckles.  “I’m waiting.”

“Grazie means ‘thank you’.  And I’ll say it again, ladruncola.”  He brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the back.  The hairs of his mustache tickled your skin softly when he repeated himself.  “Grazie.”

“You’re welcome,”  Your knuckles received kisses next followed by him turning your hand over to kiss your palm.  “But I meant the other word.”

“I’d rather tell you after I get you in my room.”  

You sighed, knowing you probably should just leave.  After saving him he probably would let you without a fuss too.  There was just something about him that had you taking a step closer to straighten the handkerchief in his vest.  You rested your hand on his chest and moved it up towards his shoulder while you leaned in close.

“As long as you promise to make it worth my while.”  He was grinning when you pulled away, his mismatched eyes twinkling in a way you didn’t think you’d be able to forget.  “Papa.”

“That’s a challenge I’m happy to accept.”

“How many weapons do you have?”

Secondo’s voice was equally incredulous and impressed.  You gave him a smirk of your own as you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back towards his bed.  He went willingly, his eyes dropping down to your hands as you made quick work of pulling the two knives he hadn’t found out of their hiding places.

“I like to be prepared.”  When he sat back on the bed you followed, placing a knee on either side of his legs and resting your hands on his shoulders.  “Surely you can appreciate that, hmm?”

“I can.”  He took your mouth in a dizzying kiss, stealing your breath while his hands began to work on the buttons of your pants.  You broke away with a gasp when he slid one hand inside, right in between your legs where you were already hot and wet.  He wrapped his other arm around your waist to pull you closer, trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth all the way to your ear.  “I’ll appreciate all of you tonight.”

“I think I can promise the same.”  You trailed your hands down to the buttons of his vest, going for his shirt buttons when you were done.  His chest was covered with dark hair, patches of silver mixed in.  He nearly purred like a cat when you ran your fingers through it.  While you explored his chest his own hands began to wander but you were too distracted to stop him from slipping his fingers into the hidden pocket in your shirt.  “Wait!”

He pulled away, your loaded dice held triumphantly in his hand.  You had a sudden jolt of fear that perhaps this was all a game to him and he only brought you up here to expose why you were even at The Ministry.  Neither of you were moving, your eyes stuck on his face while he began to roll the dice between his thumb and forefinger.

“These are certainly interesting, aren’t they?”  He made a loose fist and shook them, his eyes moving to your face while they rattled around.  There wasn’t any anger there, if anything he seemed amused but you still couldn’t bring yourself to move.  With a quick movement he flicked the dice on the floor, not looking away as they landed.  “Tell me what numbers came up.”

You looked down, your legs starting to shake from where they still straddled him and your heart racing.  He placed both his hands on your waist while you leaned over as far as you dared, trying to make a show of looking even though you knew what numbers would be facing up.  He did too, the bastard.

“Lucky you, a pair of sixes.”

He smirked, tugging you towards him again abruptly.  You fell against his chest with a grunt, your mouth hovering right over his.  He flashed you a smile before responding, his words making your heart race for an entirely different reason.

“Lucky me indeed.”  His eyes were locked on yours for a few heartbeats before he glanced down at your lips.  “If you would like to leave I wouldn’t stop you.”  He moved so his lips were hovering over your ear.  “But I keep the money and the dice.”

“I don’t know, I feel like I won that money fair and square.”  His chest rumbled with laughter, his hands tightening around your waist.  “And I don’t want to leave.”

“Bene.  Because I have been wanting to kiss you ever since you insulted my whiskey.”

A retort was on the tip of your tongue, it did taste like it was watered down, but talking was impossible when he kissed you.  It was as demanding as the man itself.  You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck while one of his hands gripped your head, tilting it just so to make the angle perfect.  He tasted like whiskey and smoke, the combination intoxicating.

The need to feel more of him became too much, your hands pushing and pulling at his shirt and vest to get it off.  With a quick movement he spun you so you were on your back on his bed, staring up at him while he took them off himself.  Your eyes moved over his chest appreciatively, enjoying how the muscles of his arms moved under his skin.  It was obvious he had done more than run a casino in his life.  Those muscles were evidence of years working with guns and horses.

“See something you like?”

“Take the pants off and I’ll let you know.”  His sudden laughter had you smiling and you lifted a foot up to rest on his thigh.  “Unless you want my help?”

“I wouldn’t dream of denying you the opportunity.” 

In a flash you were kneeling before him on the bed, your fingers eagerly working on the fastenings of his pants.  His gun belt was already on the floor next to yours and your small pile of knives.  It had surprised you he didn’t want a weapon close but you also had the sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t need any sort of weapon to take care of you if necessary.  The thought should scare you, being here in his room should scare you, but all you could think of was how he was making your blood race through your veins.

And how the sight of his cock was making your mouth water.

Thick and long, it jutted out from the patch of hair between his legs proudly.  There was already a drop of liquid at the tip and you leaned in to lick it off, grinning when it twitched.  You locked eyes with him as you wrapped your lips around the tip, applying pressure along the bottom with your tongue.  You began to move further down but he rested his hands on the side of your head, stopping your momentum.

“Ah ah, I have a different plan.”  You pulled back, licking your lips and watching him as he smiled down at you.  “Would you let me taste you, ladruncola?”

“If you insist.”

The visual of Secondo dropping to his knees in front of you wasn’t one you would forget any time soon.  His fingers were steady as they undid your clothes, far steadier than yours were right now.  All you had the strength to do was watch, watch as he exposed more and more of you to his strange eyes.  It felt a little unfair for him to still be wearing his pants as he pulled off yours but as he looked at your core you couldn’t find the words to say anything about it.

“Bellissima.”  You had no idea what it meant but the word, the worshipful way he said it made your cheeks heat up.  He laid his hands on the inside of your thighs and gently push them wider.  As his face got closer to where you were wet for him you could see his nose twitch as he took deep breaths and you were not going to survive this.  Secondo closed his eyes and you saw his lips moving briefly before he caught your gaze.  “Nema.”

His mouth covered you in the next moment, his hands moving behind you to grip your ass and hold you still.  It was a good thing he did because while he licked and sucked at your flesh you were twitching and shaking.  The sensations were overwhelming and you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to be closer or get away from it.  His nose pressed insistently against your clit while he worked his tongue around your opening, flicking and swiping it over and over.  When he suddenly pushed it inside you couldn’t help but cry out, your hand letting go of the blanket in its grip and instead gripping his hair.

“Secondo, f-fu–ah!”

The man growled against you, gripping you tighter while he ate you out.  Words kept bubbling in your throat but they just turned into whimpers.  You weren’t even sure what you were trying to say, perhaps your own words of worship to the man himself.  The rumors you had always heard about the man and his family briefly flashed in your mind.  Images of the devil and upside down crosses but they were banished as soon as he slid two thick fingers into you and moved his mouth to your clit.

If this was how they worshipped the devil you’d sign up in a second.

Your peak was coming fast, wave after wave of pleasure making spots appear in your vision.  Secondo didn’t let up, he just fucked you faster with his fingers.  Two soon becoming three all while he sucked on your clit.  Your nails kept digging harder and harder into his scalp but it didn’t seem to phase him.  If anything it only spurred him on and when he curled his fingers to rub against your inner walls you felt yourself fall over a cliff, your orgasm rushing to meet you at the bottom.

“Are you awake?”  You had no idea how long you had been laying there panting but his deep voice finally dragged you back from where you’d been drifting.  You blinked up at him, grinning when you saw how out of sorts his mustache was.  “Something amuse you?”

“I should steal from casinos more often.”  Making this man laugh was like a drug and you did your best to commit the sight and sound to memory.  It wasn’t just his mustache that was a mess, his hair was tussled and twisted from your fingers too.  You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up and smoothing it out, smiling softly when his eyes closed and he pressed into your hands.  “You’re like a cat.”

“Un gatto?”  He raised an eyebrow when you grinned.  “I’ve had worse nicknames.”

“Oh?  Like Papa?”

“Papa was a title, my title.  Long ago.”  You continued to rub along his scalp, waiting to see if he said anything else.  ���I went by a different one before that, before I was called back to my family.”

“What were you doing then?”

Secondo flashed you a small smile as began to pat your legs, nodding his head towards the headboard.  You obediently scooted back, not being able to stop your eyes from falling to his cock.  It had softened a bit but still looked eager for attention.  He followed you further onto the bed, rubbing his hands up your legs until they were encouraging your thighs apart once more.

“About the same thing you’re doing now.”  When you raised an eyebrow and gave him a once over he chuckled.  “The same thing you were doing earlier.  Stealing.”

“I wasn–”

“But I was much, much better at it, ladruncola.”

“Either fuck me or shut up.”

He smirked as he looked down at you, one hand going to his cock and beginning to stroke it.  You wiggled a bit under the attention, the tension building in you again just by watching him pleasure himself.  Well, two could play at that game.  With a smirk of your own you began to touch yourself, sliding your fingers down your wet flesh and easily pressing two inside. 

His eyes quickly locked onto your fingers, watching intensely as you moved them in and out.  You added a third finger but it wasn’t even close to how it felt with his in you.  With a frustrated growl you said his name and he immediately looked back up to your face.  There was an unreadable look there, one you hadn’t seen yet that night.  For a moment you were worried he was going to move away and tell you to leave but instead he finally moved closer.  He grabbed your hand and tugged it away so he could line his cock up.

“Bone Daddy.”  Your eyes flashed up to his to see him grinning.  “That’s what they called me.”

You repeated the name, trying it out on your tongue.  While he teased your opening with the head of his cock you thought back to those rumors you had heard of the Emeritus family.  An image of Secondo with a painted face resembling a skull flashed in your mind and your gasp had little to do with how his cock was beginning to stretch you.  He could be terrifying now you could barely comprehend how terrifying he would have been looking like that.

Terrifying and beautiful.

When he was all the way inside of you the name tumbled from your lips again.  You took a moment to trace your finger along his face, trying to imagine what the design of the paint looked like.  He let you go on for a few seconds before taking your hand in his and pressing it down next to your head.  If he hadn’t of been looking at you like he was, like you were something he cared about, you would have been concerned you overstepped.  Instead he lowered his head to kiss you, nipping at your lips until you opened up for his tongue.

You kissed him back, trying to match his intensity but you were getting desperate for him to move elsewhere.  He groaned into your mouth when you wrapped your legs around his waist and wiggled your hips.  After what felt like an eternity he finally pulled back, his lips as swollen as yours were.  You felt like you were going to lose your mind if he didn’t move, if he didn’t start fucking you right now.

“Secondo, please.”

“Ah, ladruncola.  You don’t need to beg.  I’ll take care of you.”  You bit your lip as he began to pull out, the drag of his thick length so good along your walls.  He paused with the head at your entrance and you were so close to screaming at him, especially when he looked down at you smugly.  “We’ll save the begging for later, eh?”

“Whatever you say Bone Daddy.”

You expected a response, another comment to continue your banter but instead he began to press back inside of you.  It was a slow and steady thrust, not giving you a moment to adjust as he pushed in all the way.  Your hands were scrabbling at the sheets by your head and your body trembled.  When your groins touched he didn’t pause, he just started to pull out immediately.

Secondo quickly had a rhythm going, a steady drive in and out of you with his cock.  All you could do was hang on, your legs still wrapped around him.  The bed creaked beneath you both, the headboard hitting the wall when he began to thrust harder.  He dropped down so he could kiss you, mimicking the movements of his cock with his tongue.  You bit and sucked at it, one of your hands letting go of the sheet to find its way back into his hair.

Both of you were moaning, gasping as the pleasure began to build.  You had to pull away from his mouth to suck in air and you buried your face in his neck while you did so.  He kissed along your scalp while one of his big hands cradled the back of your head.  It all suddenly felt so intimate, so much more than what it had started out as that you couldn’t help but imagine more of this.  More than a night and more than a frenzied coupling.

“Look at me, ladruncola.”  His fingers tightened just enough to get you to pull away, your head falling back onto the pillow.  His thrusts were more sure now, purposeful.  He slipped a hand down your body to touch you between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it just right.  “I want to watch you.  I want to see your face.”

Fuck, it was too much but you couldn’t deny him.  You clung to him and panted as you hit your peak once again, your walls spasming around him.  He was the first to break eye contact, groaning and muttering in Italian when his cock began to kick and empty inside of you.  For a moment you imagined that you could feel it, feel his seed fill you up.  Your hips moved on their own accord then, rotating slightly to help him as he came down until he finally stopped and collapsed on top of you.

You weren’t sure if it had been minutes or hours but his weight was a comforting thing and you didn’t have any desire to move.  His softened cock had fallen out of you and while the feeling of his seed leaving was uncomfortable you hoped that he would take you again before the morning arrived.  You had no desire to leave this room.  The only thing you wanted was Secondo and you’d take as much of him as he was willing to give you.

With a grunt he finally pulled away, rolling onto his back next to you.  The cool night air drifted in through an open window across the room and distantly you could hear the tinkling keys of a piano.  You risked a glance over at him, letting your eyes linger when you saw his were closed.  The skull paint appeared in your mind again and you resolved to ask him later what it looked like.

“Would you like some watered down whiskey?”  

You snorted, nodding when he cracked open an eye to look at you.  He got up with a grunt and made his way over to a small bar against the wall.  When he headed back with two glasses in his hand you sat up and leaned back against the headboard.  The whiskey burned your tongue but it was good, much better than what you had at his bar. 

“So you save the good stuff for yourself.”

“And you.”  He tilted his head back and drained the rest of his glass, looking pleased when you did the same.  With the ease of a cat he got up and refilled them, grabbing something else before he made his way back over.  “I was hoping you would indulge me.”

“Haven’t I already been doing that?”

“Indeed, but I was hoping I could interest you in a game of poker.”  He placed his glass on a small table by the bed and you then noticed the item in his hand was a deck of cards.  They came to life in his hands as he began to shuffle them, doing moves and tricks that were impossible for your eyes to keep up with.  “Perhaps you’d like to make it interesting.”

“I’m listening.”

Secondo began to deal the cards out and you leaned over to set your glass next to his so you could gather yours up.  

“I would like an opportunity to win my money back.”  Your eyes flashed up to his in alarm but his expression hadn’t changed.  He had the same amused and almost fond look that he’d had since he had brought you into his room.  You looked back down at your cards and started to shuffle them slowly.  “But of course if I lose you stand to earn even more.  Except fairly this time.”

“I can play fair but you’re going to regret it.”

“Oh I don’t think so.  Either way I’ll still have you in my bed.  Won’t I, ladruncola?”

“You haven’t told me what that means yet.  Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

“Another thing you can win then.  I will translate that and more if you beat me.”

“Prepare to lose, Papa.”

Secondo laughed before taking a drink and then leaning in to kiss you.  The whiskey was fresh on his tongue and you sucked at it to get a better taste.  While the kiss deepened you thought about everything that had led you to this man’s bed.  About getting caught up in a gun fight and then getting caught by Secondo himself.

You thought about seeing that man raise his gun and how you hadn’t even blinked before shoving Secondo out of the way.  You thought of his presence and his words, how he had gotten you into his room even though he didn’t have to try very hard.  It was easy to imagine this man holding the attention of a congregation if those rumors were true.  You’d certainly follow him to more than just his bedroom.

When he pulled away you couldn’t help but pout and he nipped at your bottom lip before leaning back again.  He picked up his cards but his gaze was steady on you, those green and white eyes unwavering.  You began to fidget, shuffling your cards in slightly unsteady hands before you couldn’t take it any more.

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ll be losing at all tonight.”  

“What do you mean?”

He reached out for your hand, bringing it to his mouth, cards and all.  Gentle kisses were pressed over your knuckles before he let go.

“Either way I’m winning you, aren’t I?”

You had to bite your lips to stop yourself from saying something stupid.  Something stupid and sappy that you had no right to say.  But Secondo continued to watch you and his face was content, like he didn’t have a care in the world and just wanted to enjoy his time with you.  It was a feeling you shared so you stopped trying to hide it and let it show on your face.

“Me too.”

“Bene.  Well then, I’ll let you go first.”

As the game began and went on you couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun.  Obviously the sex had been amazing and you hoped there would be more of it soon but spending time with Secondo like this felt amazing too.  You were able to draw some more stories out of him and in exchange you told him a few of yours.  Both of you showed off some scars and the actions that led to them.  

You got a description of what Bone Daddy looked like, skull paint and all.  He told you about the church he and his Ghouls belonged to.  Used to belong to.  There was definitely more of a story there but you weren’t going to press it.  As a thank you for him sharing something you could tell still pained him you shared a story that still pained you.  At that point the card game was forgotten, the cards falling to the floor when you both met in a heated kiss.

Later, as you both caught your breath, your skin sticky with sweat and other things, you felt something press against your back.  With a grunt you raised yourself on an elbow and reached a hand into the sheets to find the culprit.  You came back with a handful of cards and as you leaned over Secondo to toss them with the others on the floor you noticed something that had you freeze.

There were two ace of spades.

Secondo was laughing when you turned to glare at him, easily bringing a hand up to block the cards when you threw them his way.  You wanted to make a bigger deal of it but the problem was you recognized them as your own cards.  The bastard had grabbed your deck although when he slipped it out of your coat you had no idea.  He wrapped an arm around your waist and began to tug you close, chuckling when you let him with minimal protest.

“That’s quite the deck you have.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t finish the game I think I had the hand to beat.”

“Shut.  Up.”

“Ah, ladruncola.  Don’t be upset with me.”

“Tell me what ‘ladruncola’ means.”  When he didn’t speak you turned in his arms to stare him down.  “Tell me.”

“Little thief.”  He was kissing you again before you were able to curse at him.  It was really unfair how his kisses made you lose track of yourself.  It ended far too soon but he stayed close, tilting his head down so your foreheads rested together.  “But you’re my little thief, aren’t you?”

You kissed him again in answer, opening your mouth over his while you moved to straddle his lap.  There were certainly worse things he could call you.  And there were certainly worse things that could be happening right now.  This was infinitely better than spending the night in jail and if you were honest with yourself this was one of the best nights of your life.

You’d be his ladruncola as long as he would have you.

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[bellasprettywords]

Parallel Parking (Spencer Reid x Reader)

a/n: When Olivia Rodrigo said "I can't even parallel park" lives were changed. I saw this really cute video and I couldn't help myself

y/n – your name

Warnings: Use of the word "shit", and I can't parallel park, so this would be a dream scenario for me

Word count: 940

My Masterlist

Part of your daily routine included getting to work at least with 20 minutes of anticipation in order to find a good parking space; but today your alarm didn’t go off on time, your heater broke down, and you were completely out of bagels and cereal, so naturally, your morning wasn’t going great, and you were afraid you’d come into work late.

The clock on the dashboard of your car signaled 7:50 am as you were pulling up to the parking lot, which meant you were still on time for work, but definitely the good parking spots were going to be taken.

“Shit, shit shit” you muttered under your breath as you were finishing your third lap through the parking lot, when suddenly, you heard someone call your name. You turned your head and you could see Doctor Spencer Reid waving his arm up as if he was calling you. Shit you knew Spencer because you were coworkers at the BAU, but you couldn't say you were friends, merely acquaintances, as you’ve joined the team while he was away in prison and the times you’d spent together were awkward, but polite to say the least. You slowly drove towards the Doctor, who now seemed a little exasperated, as instead of turning the car around, you decided to give another lap through the parking lot.

“Good morning Doctor Reid” you said rolling down your window with a smile that was trying to cover up the fact that you were starving, he made you nervous and if you couldn’t park in the next five minutes, you’d be late for the briefing

“Is it really a good morning? You’ve been driving through this parking lot for at least 10 minutes” he said looking impatiently at the watch resting on his wrist

“I… I… It has been kind of a rough morning, but everything’s fine, I’ll be up there for the briefing in a couple of minutes” you said trying to sound confident even when you were almost certain you’d have to find parking somewhere outside the FBI Academy

“Just park over there, and let’s go” Spencer said pointing to a free parking space where you’d have to parallel park

“Oh… sure… just…” you stuttered unable to find the words to properly communicate that you couldn't parallel park, without sounding like a child

“What is it? You don’t know how to parallel park?” Spencer said furrowing his brow and with a small smile beginning to form at his lips

“I just… I never really do it” you said, feeling your cheeks warming up and gaining a reddish color as his lips curled into a cute smile

“Alright, step out, I’ll park it for you” Spencer said opening the driver’s door and offering you his hand to step out of the car

“No no, no way Doctor Reid” you said completely embarrassed at the situation, and feeling the red from your cheeks spread through your whole face

“Just take my hand, I’ll park it for now, and later we can come down, and I’ll show you how to do it” he said with a sweet smile that made your stomach flutter. You took his hand and he helped you out with a swift movement; you walked to the sidewalk and watched as Spencer parked your car with ease.

Sure, you weren’t really friends, or knew each other a lot, but he definitely was cute to look at. Your mind started to wander; you couldn’t peel your eyes off of him as he placed his arm over the passenger’s seat to get a better look at the parking spot he was going to occupy; you stared at him, carefully examining the way his hands gently held the steering wheel, almost as careful as he held your hand; the way his profile looked almost angelical with his long curls framing his face and the soft beard that covered his jaw… Spencer got out of the car and walked towards you, with your eyes were glued to his figure, taking in every detail in hopes of keeping it safe in your mind. Your brain was a mush, when suddenly your train of thought was interrupted by your stomach growling

“Next time you stare, try to keep your mouth closed” Spencer said jokingly as he handed you your car keys

“I… I wasn’t” you stuttered when it happened again, once more and as if this whole situation wasn’t embarrassing enough, your stomach growled again, this time louder. This time, you were ready for the earth to open under your feet and just crawl into it

“Here, take this; it may not be breakfast, but it’s something” Spencer said handing you a white paper bag he retrieved from his messenger bag

“Oh, no, thank you, Doctor Reid, but I’m alright” you lied low-key praying that your stomach wouldn’t give away how hungry you were

“Please, take it y/n, and please, just call me Spencer, I’m not that old, you know?” he insisted, this time offering you a warm, reassuring smile, and you couldn’t help but chuckle

“Thank you… for everything” you said shyly as the two of you walked together towards the building

“Don’t thank me just yet, I still have to teach you how to parallel park” Spencer said, opening the door for you

“Oh, so you were serious?” you asked a little surprised, mostly because you thought he was joking when he said he’d teach you

“Of course I’m serious! You can’t keep arriving into the office freakishly early just because you can’t park” he added laughing as the two of you made your way into the elevator

[stinmybubs]

“Do It For Us.” Pt.1 1k likes special !

Summary: A simple girl, quirkless and will never amount to anything! Well that’s what’s she’s been told. Bullied along side Izuku Midorya, her best friend, and long term crush. Getting into UA and having a quirk? And she’s left behind…what’s left for her?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: bullying, domestic abuse, and violence!! NOT PROOFREAD !!

M. Izuku x AFAB! Reader! x B.Katsuki?

Quirkless. A label that’s been slapped onto you for as long as you can remember, something you couldn’t control. But you still got punish all your life, you were bullied, scorned, and outcasted by others and your own family. But.

You had Izuku Midoriya, another quirkless person. You weren’t suffering alone!

That’s what you thought at least.

For the longest time you’ve stayed by Izuku’s side, defending him from bullies, taking the hit for him. But he always had this big ambition to be a hero, you of course encouraged him.

“One day! Even though I don’t have a quirk…I’ll be just like him. I’ll make people feel safe!” The small boy exclaimed, the biggest smile painted across his face, and you admired that. You admired every part of this boy.

“Yeah! You’ll be the greatest hero! Show them all Izu, show them we can help…do it for us!” You wanted to share this moment, you wanted to be happy with him about this dream. All you could do was hope, but deep down you felt dread, knowing his dream could never be fulfilled.

“Y/n! Y/n l/n! Get your ass downstairs IMMEDIATELY.” Hearing the screams of your father, your heart dropping at the sudden call.

You heart raced with every step, trying your best to keep your composure before even reaching the bottom of the steps.

“Ye-“ before you could even utter a word you felt a sharp pain against your cheek. The hit was so strong you collapsed to the floor, the feeling of tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“What is this!?” Your father slammed a bunch of papers onto you. It was your test scores. C- and D+ written on all of them.

“I…I…I’m sorry father I-“ your words cut off with another slap to your face.

“First no quirk! Then you keep bringing these home? How useless are you? I expected you to at least to be smart since you’re quirkless.” Your father insulted you, and all you could do was sit there and stare at the floor trying to contain all your tears and rage.

It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t control whether you had a quirk. It was your parents fault, something in their genetics made you this way! Is what you wanted to think.

“Go back to your room. Fucking shit…” your father turned to walk away, your mother making dinner in the kitchen not having a care in the world for your well being.

You frantically pick up the papers scattered on the floor, tears streaming down your face as you run back up the stairs to hide in your room.

All you could do was throw your papers on the floor and rush to your small closet. You’ve always hid in your closet, not even your bed or your room felt safe when things like this happened. The small cramped space made you feel safe.

Curling up in a ball, 15 year old you cried. Cried for hours until you fell asleep in that closet.

The next morning you quickly got ready before anyone could wake. Sneaking yourself food for breakfast and lunch.

As you make your way down to you and Izuku’s meeting spot you couldn’t help but think. Of how your mother wasn’t always like this, she used to defend you, she used to help you.

She used to love you.

But after all the bearings, after all the insulting she finally stopped. So broken down to the point where she couldn’t even look at you anymore. You couldn’t help but hate her for it, you needed her.

“Hey! Oh…what happened…?” Izuku quickly ran up to you.

You didn’t even notice the boy until his hand placed itself upon your cheek to make you look at him, the sting of the bruise made you flinch.

“Oh…! Uh…bullies ahah..got me last night.” You lied. The last thing you wanted to do was worry Izuku about your home life, he never knew about your family. And he never will.

“Ah..I’m sorry y/n. I’m sorry I didn’t get to walk you home last night.” He pulled you into a tight hug, tears begging to run down the boys face. You hugged him back, finding comfort in his warmth. A perfect morning. You thought.

You two chat, wiping the tears from each others eyes and make your way to your middle school.

You loved every bit of Izuku’s company, it felt safe, it felt like home.

“Yeah! Then Mount lady came in and-“ Izuku rambled on and on about the fight that happened with an amateur villain this morning. “Woah! I love Mount lady! She’s so cool.” You state, imagining what Izuku was describing.

“You know it would be cool if Mount lady could control her size! Like what if she could…” Izuku began to mutter again. Oh how you found this habit so cute. When this happened you sat and listened until he realized what he’s doing and get flustered as always.

The school day was hell, you and Izuku getting picked on by Bakugou Katsuki and his little gang all day.

“I would pass out career forms but we all know…-!” The teacher went on to talk about the hero tracks, with everyone celebrating.

“Oh yeah, Izuku Midorya didn’t you want to attend UA too?”

What…?

You quickly look over at your friend as soon as the class starts to burst into laughter. You didn’t know how to feel, you though he might’ve given up that dream already. But he hasn’t. Hah…I guess you never give up Izu.

After the commotion and class was over you padded over to Izuku hugging him from his shoulders behind him. “Gotcha Izu!” You giggle as the startled boy let out a yelp.

“You’re so cute when you’re scared!” You laugh looking over to see what he was writing. Cute! You thought seeing the notes on other heros quirks.

“How could a quirkless guy like you have a girlfriend?” Oh boy. One of Katsuki’s lackies stated, even though you weren’t his girlfriend you never will deny not being his.

“Don’t ya’ dare even try useless Deku! Once I am the only-“ you tune out Katsuki’s words, anger filling your body, your smiled immediately fading into a frown. Letting go of Izuku as the frightened boy jolted up out of his seat.

“What’s this!? He’s writing about being a hero!?”

Your heart dropped when Katsuki grabbed the notebook, your blood boiling at soon as he exploded the notebook your best friend work so hard on and throwing it out the window like it was trash.

You couldn’t control yourself, all you felt was pent up anger and you could help but run to Bakugou and.

SLAP. The noise echoed throughout the empty classroom. Adrenaline rushing through your body, realizing what you’ve done.

“You bully! You’re the pathetic one for bullying helpless people with your quirks! We never asked for this! We couldn’t control whether we are quirkless or not! Why should we be punished? It’s unfair and-“ you quickly shut your mouth. Realizing everything was pouring out in that moment, and realizing the anger in the the boys red eyes.

You had slapped Katsuki Bakugou. And now all you felt was fear, quickly trying to retreat before Bakugou grabbed your wrist tightly. “Ow-!” You wince in pin at the grip, it felt like he was going to snap your wrist.

“Kachann stop!” Izuku put himself between you and the blonde. “You can hurt me but you should never hurt a girl!” He states a angrily. Bakugou simply huffed, finally letting go of your wrist and stomping out the classroom.

You wince in pain, grabbing your own wrist taking a good look. “It’s already bruising…” you slump in one of the nearby chairs. You really wanted to cry, but you couldn’t. You’re were too tired.

“I’m sorry…” feeling the warmth of Izuku’s hug felt a bit better, but you were just so tired of feeling so helpless, useless, and weak.

You try everything not to go home, sitting there on a park bench for what felt like ages. It’s not like you haven’t done this before, sleeping outside to avoid your parents.

“I’ll sleep in the park…I didn’t eat lunch so I have dinner..” you sigh, taking out the bag of food you packed, staring at the onigiri in your hand.

“Oi’ the hell you doin here.” Your heart sank, hearing the angry voice of Bakugou. “N-none of your business..” you don’t even look up at him. You just start opening up your onigiri.

“It’s gettin’ dark. A girl shoul-“ you cut him off. “What’s it to you huh!?” You yell, taking a bite out of your food just hoping he goes away. Praying he doesn’t keep talking to you.

A long pause of silence. Thinking he’s gone the tears roll down your face, falling onto your skirt as your hands begin to shake.

“Those bruises…aren’t from bullies aren’t they.”

He was still there. Your face flushed out of embarrassment. “What!? They..” you didn’t know why but…everything just flooded out.

“No…they’re from my dad…you’re not the only one who hates quirkless people.” You chuckle lightly, looking up at the blonde boy tears running down your face.

“Come.” He simply states, turning away from you, “What…?” You question, not knowing what he meant.

“You comin or nah?” He looks back at you, noticing the kind of rough state he’s in. Did he get in a fight? You thought, standing up to follow him.

You didn’t know why you were following him. You didn’t know why you didn’t feel so scared anymore.

Bakugou led you to his home, opening the door carefully and quietly. You guessed you didn’t want his parents to find out he was bringing home a girl.

Well Bakugou wasn’t sneaky enough.

“KATSUKI BAKUGOU!” The sound of his yelling mother made you flinch, subconsciously grabbing onto the back of his shirt. It’s smelt of smoke and grime.

“ugh…” you heard the boy groan he clearly wasn’t in the mood for his mom, when is he ever in the mood? You thought.

“YOU WENT AND GIT CAUGHT BY A VIL-“ Seeing the spikey-blonde hair women approach, she suddenly stopped in her tracks seeing you cowering behind her son. Woah…Bakugou looks exactly like her.

“A GIRL!? MASARU ITS FINALLY HAPPENING!”

“Stop yellin’ yer scarin her.” Katsuki stated, looking back at your cowering figure. You jump, realizing that you were holding on to him and quickly stand beside him, a bit flustered.

“Oh! I’m sorry, what’s your name sweetheart!” She leans a bit forward trying to get a look at your face, noticing the bruise on your wrist.

“It’s…Y/n.” You meekly look up at her, terrified to meet someone else’s parent. Hell you barley even met Izuku’s mom!

“Oh my..what happened to…KATSUKI DID YOU DO THIS!?” The pointed to your face, noticing the bruises on both sides of your cheeks. Oh! You forgot you had those, ever since Izuku mentioned them at least.

“No you old hag! And stop yer yellin!” Natsuki hissed, defending himself. Well he did bruise your wrist but he never slapped you. “No! It’s wasn’t him…it was…” you trailed off, clearly the topic wasn’t something you wanted to talk about.

“Oh..! Well my name is Mitsuki Bakugou… you can stay here as long as you want. Come to me if you need anything sweetheart.” She placed a hand on your cheek, it was gentle and warm. It felt nice.

You couldn’t help but lean into her touch, feeling a mothers love is something you craved for the longest time. Tears began rolling down your cheeks, running to Katsuki’s mom hugging her.

Katsuki’s eyes widened at your sudden actions, surprised that you went to hug his mother. Is it that bad? He thought, a sense of guilt and sympathy washing over him, watching you cry in his mothers arms.

After a few tears, and hugs, Mitsuki sent you off to wash up. You were sleeping in Katsuki’s room! That is until they put a bed into their office room. You felt bad for Intruding in their home, sinking into the hot water.

This home was so loving regardless of the yelling, they felt so natural so different. You were jealous of their happy home.

Mitsuki had given you some spare clothes, of course you weren’t sure if you’d fit her underwear at all, she said that you two would go out and buy some together, this was all happening so fast. You felt so guilty.

Turns out a grown women’s shorts cannot fit onto your adolescence body! Her shirt was a little baggy too, your brah also was in the wash! So looks like you were only wearing panties and a shirt to bed. Which was embarrassing.

Katsuki was laying on a futon on the floor, he was kind enough to lend you his bed.

“H-hey…Bakugou…why..why are you doing this?” You question, turning yourself over to face him.

“Dunno…just cuz..” what a vague answer he gave you. You probably knew it was for pity, or maybe your outburst put a bit of sympathy in his heart.

“I’ll be gone by tomorrow…don’t worry you won’t have a quirkless loser in your home.” Katsuki flinched at your words, a sense of guilt still in him for saying those things to you and Izuku.

“Like my ma said. Stay as long as you need. Don go back to yer parents…or yknow.” He turned over to look at you, the both of you making eye contact for a minute.

“Thanks…thank you.” You smile softly at him, letting your eyes close to get a peaceful nights worth of sleep.

AN: This will be a couple of parts! A short story :) I hope you all enjoy some soft Bakugou and Some Izuku! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON MY POSTS I LOVE ALL OF YOU MWAH here’s more XoXo Stinmybubs!!!

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Gabe/Stephen; not on the list

For the prompt: I would say Gabe and Stephen’s wedding because I want that more than anything in the world, but I suspect that’s coming without my prompt? But if it’s not… 

It would come either way, probably, but this started the ball rolling.

More Gabe and Stephen, more lists. No actual wedding, but we get pretty damn adjacent.

Gabe knew the list would backfire the moment Stephen started making it. He even told Stephen as much, but Stephen just shrugged a shoulder and kept working on it. He got into it as it grew too, enjoying it so much that Gabe told himself he was probably worrying about nothing.

And maybe the list wouldn’t have been a problem if the only person he’d told about it was Gabe. Probably would have been fine even if knowledge of it extended to the Marksons and Petersens, which happened sooner rather than later.

But telling Gabe’s teammates — that was a mistake.

“A what list?” Jared asks when Stephen first mentions it.

“An anti-wedding list,” Stephen says.

Bryce sits up. “You guys aren’t getting married?”

From this angle, Gabe can’t see how withering the look Stephen gives Bryce is, but the kick Jared aims at his ankle is probably related.

“Obviously we’re getting married,” Stephen says, like he wasn’t panicking for a good few days after they got engaged, and only the potential wrath of Miriam Markson kept him from fleeing on the next flight out of Vancouver. “It’s a list of shit we don’t want at our wedding.”

“Um,” Bryce says.

“You know,” Stephen says. “The wedding traditions we’re vetoing.”

“We is such a strong word,” Gabe says.

“Unanimous approval or none at all, Gabriel,” Stephen says. "A veto only needs one."

He's right. And Gabe guesses he would know, consdiering he's the one vetoing everything.

“So wait, what exactly are you vetoing?” Jared says.

“Nobody’s wearing white,” Stephen says, starting to tick items off on his fingers. “I mean, white dress shirts are fine, obviously, but nobody’s a virgin here, we’re not doing any all in white shit. No flower girls or ring bearers. No little groom cake toppers. Fuck knows there aren’t going to be any garters involved. I don’t remember the rest off the top of my head, but I have it all written down."

“I like the little grooms,” Bryce says, sounding hurt. Gabe hasn’t seen any pictures from Bryce and Jared’s wedding, since it was very much on the down-low — and he truly wishes he could see how those two managed to put together a wedding on the sly when they couldn't even sit across from each other without Gabe figuring out they were married — but he bets there were little grooms on top of their cake. He also bets Bryce still has those little dudes hanging around somewhere.

“Can I see the list?” Jared asks. “I’m kind of curious how many our wedding had.”

“Sure,” Stephen says, with a hand wave. “I’ll email it to you when I’m finished. Have a few more items to add first.”

“Cool,” Jared says.

After Bryce and Jared leave, Gabe mentions it might not be a good idea to send Jared the list, but Stephen just scoffs.

“What’s he going to do?” Stephen says. “Wear white to my wedding? Put little grooms on his piece of cake? He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s not going to anything that actually fucks with the day, he’s not Dmitry.”

“Our wedding,” Gabe says.

“Oh come on, you already know what’s mine is yours,” Stephen says.

“You stabbed me with a chopstick over the last soup dumpling last night,” Gabe says.

“Stop saying I stabbed you,” Stephen says. “I didn’t even break the skin.”

“It hurt,” Gabe says, and Stephen takes his hand, planting an officious kiss on the back of it.

“Better?” Stephen asks.

“It was the other hand,” Gabe says, smiling when Stephen sighs dramatically before kissing it too.

“You’re really going to give Math that list?” Gabe says. “Blind trust isn’t usually your thing.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll lead to something hideous,” Stephen says. “But think of it this way: your idiot teammates are going to do something, so I may as well give them some parameters.”

“Huh,” Gabe says. “Good point.”

“I’m not exactly new to this, you know,” Stephen says.

“No, I know,” Gabe says.

At least whatever it is that’s coming, it won’t come out of the blue.

~

Gabe did not foresee this. Sure, when he gave Stevie and Dima and Bullet bachelor party planning rights he anticipated some variety of disaster, but he underestimated them, he thinks. Or overestimated them. There was some mis-estimation occurring.

He looks around. What initially looked like chaos seems oddly recognisable. Almost familiar.

It’s sort of wedding themed, which makes sense, considering the occasion, but everything’s slightly off, and not just because they’re in a venue more suited to clubbing than matrimony.

His eyes land on the big cake at the centre of everything. It looks more like the kind Gabe saw at Cup celebrations than a wedding one, decorated to look like a rink, with two little figures at centre ice. He’s too far to see the details, but he’s pretty sure they’re hockey figurines rather than grooms, and someone has decided to use the manipulable joints for, well, evil probably isn’t the right word, but maybe immaturity — Gabe’s pretty sure one of them is straddling the other. He guesses he should just be grateful no mounting is taking place, considering Dima’s probably the responsible party.

There are so many elements, and they don’t seem to fit together at all — elegant baskets of flowers that look almost painstakingly put together, surrounded by a scatter of rainbow confetti that feels like it's moonlighting from a completely different event. Some kind of crooner — Bublé? — playing, also from a completely different event. None of it seems to fit Gabe's picture of a bachelor party planned and attended by hockey players, even if the wives and girlfriends present also got involved in the planning.

It’s the guests themselves that help Gabe put it together. There was clearly a dress code, one that only Gabe and Stephen weren’t informed about, everyone all in white, neon bright under the black light. Like an item of a list come to life. Like one of many items of a list come to life.

He can see Stephen put it together a mere moment after he does, his eyes narrowing, mouth going flat. Playing at unimpressed for the — many — eyes currently on them, avidly waiting for a reaction.

“I’m going to fucking kill Jared,” Stephen says, and Gabe decides not to tell him just how proud he sounds.

“I wonder which one of the Canucks is wearing the garter,” Gabe says, and grins when Stephen forgets his audience and his composure for a moment, throwing his head back with a laugh.

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Chapter 2

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader

Summary: “Hey! Didn’t keep you waitin’ too long, did we?”

“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate. 

You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here)

AN: there's a couple mentions of emotional eating (in thoughts). Degrading words towards self (slut, whore, etc) but not self-degrading. I think that's it? Lemme know if I missed something, it's 5:50 am at time of posting and I am eepy, so I'm sorry if I did ♥

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2

WC: 12.9k

The scent of something marvelously delicious wafting through the air had you groggily rolling over from your stomach to your back in bed, stretching your arms above you and practically vibrating the way a cat would as you eased away any sleep-induced tension from your muscles.

You honestly hadn’t slept that well in a long while. You were bleary-eyed, sure, but refreshed. You didn’t have any heavy bags under your eyes, you didn’t experience any nightmares of being hunted. Just calm, good, dreamless sleep.

As much as you wanted to laze around in bed all day, though, the watering of your mouth couldn’t go ignored. Or the rumble in your stomach, for that matter.

With a sleepy groan and big, feline-like yawn to match your stretch, you shuffled out of bed and rubbed the crusties from your eyes as you pulled on some comfortable clothes. Hell if you knew what you were going to do for the day, you could figure that out after you sated your appetite.

You were downright drooling when you left your room to do your morning routine and groused like a toddler that didn’t want to brush her teeth before devouring her weight in breakfast. But you were a grown ass woman that quite preferred to have good hygiene, thank you very much. The intoxicating call of sustenance would have to wait until after you scrubbed your face and polished your teeth to perfection.

Catching sight of yourself in the mirror made you choke when you saw how chaotic the nest of hair on your head was. You felt like a cartoon character that got zapped, your tresses sticking in every direction. 

You must have slept really well, then.

You combed your fingers through the messy strands, trying to smooth the misbehaving locks. It took some effort to tame them into a somewhat presentable fashion, which was the most you cared to do when you were dying to eat already.

Your eyes flickered towards the remaining bottles you left on the sink countertop from last night and you nearly lost your shit.

Just what did Satoru put Ijichi through to get you high end skin products like these? And in such a short amount of time? You guessed the poor man broke a few speeding laws to get these in time for you to use. That, or maybe Satoru had informed him earlier, when you initially agreed to take him up on his offer to stay at his place. Or he already had them and was keeping them around for this kind of situation? Did he use the same brand?

Well, whatever. You were going to use those zealously, so help you god.

And, by the heavens above and seas below, they were fucking incredible. Your face was baby-skin soft. Lustrous, dewy, you were glowing, and certainly felt like it, too. You couldn’t stop touching your cheeks and forehead, they were just so smooth. 

No wonder rich people always had the clearest skin. If you had these while growing up, you never would have had to deal with getting acne in your teens and into your adulthood.

So fucking unfair.

Lamenting how Satoru was born with a silver spoon in his mouth while you were robbed by the universe, you followed the delectable wisps of the tasty aroma in the air like a drunk cupid with tiny wings and a dazed veneer on your face. There you found the man himself in the kitchen, humming an unfamiliar song to himself.

You continued to be baffled that he knew how to cook. It seemed almost unnatural, in a way. He was the prime example of a rich boy that you could find reclining on a poolside chair, hands behind his head as a servant hand fed him grapes. Yet here he was, cooking away, an apron tied around his neck and waist (with frills and little hearts, too, the flashy ass). You wouldn’t be surprised if it had ‘Kiss the Chef’ written across the front and oh, would you look at that, you were right.

“Goooood morning!” Satoru exclaimed, turning away from the stove to greet you. The apron was even flashier than you thought. For fuck’s sake, it had sequins on it. “How’d you– whoa. Nevermind, your hair answers that question.”

You subconsciously tried to flatten down your frizzy tangles once more, grumbling and pulling your gaze away from the atrocious fabric covering his chest that you would totally wear as well, gods, it was horrific. Your morning hair never liked to cooperate with you. “Morning.”

Yawning against the back of your hand, you climbed onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island and veered your body to the side, trying to see what he was cooking around his arm. It smelled sweet, the kind of sweet that was almost enough to make you nauseous, but wouldn’t actually cross that line. Kind of like dessert after you’ve filled yourself to bursting with dinner.

“What are you making? It smells really good,” you said.

“Pancakes!” He exclaimed, sliding an already finished plate to you, soufflé pancakes stacked high atop, drizzled in chocolate and syrup. He even added fruit slices in an arch around the back, just to make it extra fancy.

Someone had a sweet tooth, it seemed. That, and it was obvious he was trying to show off his culinary skills, having the perfect reason to do so now.

But who were you to point that out? You were getting free food, and not even for the first time! Of course you were going to stuff yourself sick with these. Because, honestly, they did look incredible. You would have felt bad about devouring such art if your stomach wasn’t going nuts. 

“Wow, these smell amazing,” you said, scooping up a bite with the fork he passed you. You admired it, tilting it a few degrees in the light, then chomped down on it. 

The noise you made was downright unholy. Straight to the Second Circle with you, don’t even think about looking at the pearly gates of Heaven.

“Fuuuuck,” you keened as you immediately shoved another piece into your mouth. You savored the delectable meal with chubby cheeks, letting the sugary and fluffy delight overtake your senses. “This is so fuckin’ good.”

He cackled at your reaction as he finished cooking and styling up his own plate, ditching the eye-bleedingly ugly apron, and you realized a trice too late that you just stroked his ego considerably. “I didn’t know you could make those kinds of sounds,” he quipped. The sunlight pouring through a nearby window caught the lenses of his glasses when he slid into the seat beside you, making them glint the same way his eyes would if you could see them unobstructed. “Makes me wonder what other noises you can make.”

You almost choked on the pancake you were greedily wolfing down.

Okay, he was not allowed to say things like that while you were eating. And especially not in that voice, the one that lowered a couple octaves and had you squirming in your seat. Barely 10 minutes into the morning and you were already struggling to keep your composure around him.

You swallowed down your food stiffly and patted your sternum with a wee cough. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’m not opposed to that.”

“You promised you’d let me use your hot spring first.”

“I can be patient!” Exclaimed the man who very much could not be patient.

You deadpanned, but your lips quivered as you tried to restrain a grin. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

He moped like he was told he couldn’t go to the park today. “You’re so mean to me. How could you? And right after I graciously agreed to house you, too.” Wow, he wasn’t kidding about not letting you live that down.

To make up for it and bring the whiny baby back into a good mood, you let him have a few bites of your food, and he lit up like a damn firework, scarfing them down without a second thought. He had this sort of boyish charm that was difficult to resist in a way that made you want to tease and taunt him endlessly. His statuesque features certainly aided his charisma. 

“By the way,” Gojo began, speaking around a piece of syrup-covered strawberry from his own dish. “There’s someone I want to introduce to you later. You’ll like him.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. Was this the second ‘someone’ Granny mentioned the day before? You shuddered at the thought of dealing with two Satoru’s. You barely knew the first one, and he was already a handful and a menace. You chewed quickly and swallowed to answer.

“Is he anything like you?” You asked, doing your best to be ladylike and eat the way a normal person would. You weren’t really succeeding.

He grinned wide. “He’s the best! Second to me, of course.”

“That does not answer my question,” you pointed an accusatory fork at him.

“Pshh, don’t worry. He’s cool. Well, not as cool as me, but very close.”

That still didn’t answer your question. More so, it put you on edge. You were already mentally preparing to get acquainted with this potential twin, doppelgänger, and/or clone.

“Can you at least tell me his name?”

“Geto Suguru,” he responded.

Geto Suguru, huh?

Same initials as Gojo Satoru. Same amount of syllables, too.

You were so fucked, weren’t you? 

The thought of having two copies of the gremlin beside you had you preemptively putting your hands on your nape to ease the tension. Figuratively, but possibly literally, depending on if height was something they shared.

“Alright,” you said. “When do you want me to meet him?”

“Oh, the time will come, you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head.”

Well, if that wasn’t the most cryptic shit that definitely had you worrying your pretty little head. Asshole, he was doing that on purpose, confirmed by that cunning expression he had as he observed you with his temple resting on his fist, elbow on the counter. He liked toying with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He raised his brows. “Like what?”

“Like you’re planning some shit.”

Satoru pressed his fingers to his chest, feigning innocence. “Why, I’d never!”

He was absolutely planning some shit. All you could really do now was brace yourself for whatever was to come, though you were certain that no amount of readying yourself would keep you from getting swept off your feet. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

That was the wrong thing to say, considering he fucking swooned and tipped over, resting his head on your shoulder and closing his eyes, sighing like a schoolgirl. “I knew you thought I was handsome.”

You gave a long-suffering exhale and poked his cheek. “I said no such thing.”

“Yeah, but you looked it.”

“The hell does that even mean?”

“Just keep your eyes on me, pretty baby,” he directed and sat back up, reaching for his fork. “What’s on the agenda for you today?” He asked as he scooped up the rest of the syrup on his plate with the last bite of his food.

You coughed to cover your blush, grateful for the topic change. “Well, I guess take stock of all I’ll need to do with my house. I got a job at Granny’s store, so I’ll start working there in a few days.”

“Shit, really?” He gaped at you. “That fast?”

You nodded around your final piece of pancake, closing your eyes to savor the sublime flavor. You’d have to make him teach you to cook like that sometime, too.

A ‘whooh’ sound left him. “Impressive.”

“It’s weird,” you said. “Everything’s worked out so far, and I’ve barely been here for two and a half days. I’m getting suspicious.”

“Why?”

Your shoulders lifted and dropped. “Seems too good to be true. Gotta stay on my toes, y’know?”

Satoru ruffled your hair as he stood to stack your empty plates into the dishwasher. “You think too much, sweetheart.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Let me be paranoid.”

“You’ll just give yourself worry lines like that,” he cautioned, returning to press his index finger between your brows, “riiiight here. You gotta relax, princess. Chill out, do something fun.”

It was hard to, after spending so many years escaping metaphorical ghosts. Old habits die hard, you supposed.

He was right, you could really use a break from non-stop wariness. This was supposed to be a fresh start, after all. You washed your slate, unmarked of everything on purpose, keeping next to nothing but your name and the clothes on your back. No contacts, nobody waiting for you somewhere, no responsibilities or obligations holding you back. Who knew how long you’d get the chance to let go like this? Might as well take advantage of it.

You weren’t sure what would qualify as ‘fun’ here, but you were a new sprout, after all. What better way than to learn firsthand?

“Alright,” you agreed. “Recommend anything?”

“Hmm,” he lolled his head side to side. “Go to the bakery. It’s not far from Granny’s store, a couple streets north. Hard to miss, it’s got a big sign. We saw it on the way to Granny’s yesterday.”

You scratched through your memory, trying to remember exactly where it was. You had a fuzzy idea, but the benefit of living in such a small locale was that it wouldn’t be too difficult to find. “Will do, thanks. I’ll go after I check out my place first. I’ll need the emotional support after that.”

“Fair enough, I saw why,” he chortled. Oh, the exterior was nothing compared to the interior, sweet summer child. “You want a ride there?”

You considered it, then shook your head. “Nah, it’d be better for me to walk there to get more familiar with the town.”

“You sure?” He raised a brow, a teasing, lazy smirk crawling up his lips. “Won’t get lost?”

“Probably,” you snorted, “but experience is the best teacher, eh?”

He chuckled low in his throat. “If you do get lost, don’t be afraid to call me. I’ll be your prince in shining armor.” 

You made a ‘pffft’ noise and glared at him. He just smiled back like the dork he was. “It’s knight in shining armor.”

“Prince is better. I’m not some lowly knight.”

Drama queen. “Alright, whatever you say, prince. I’ll see you–” In the midst of slipping off the stool to get ready to leave, you stopped, remembering a key piece of information. “Hey,” you spoke up, rotating to scrutinize him with a squint. “How did you know my back door doesn’t have a lock?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My friends and I would go there on dares when we were younger. Believed it was haunted, dumb kid shit, you know how it goes.”

Oh.

That– yeah, that sounded way more plausible and understandable than whatever ghost stories about kidnappers and serial killers you came up with. But he still could have phrased it better than he did, he didn’t have to go creepy-mode to convince you to stay with him for the time being.

“Why?” He chortled. “Thought I was gonna kidnap ya?”

“Yes,” you replied automatically, scratching the spot behind your ear sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

He snickered at your expense, bending down and lowering his voice into a rumbling murmur. “You never know. Maybe I will.”

“Har har,” you replied flatly. “Very funny.”

His lips curled further, eyes gleaming behind his shades. “Better keep your guard up, princess. Someone might just come and snatch you up when you least expect it.”

You scoffed as you swiveled and headed towards the front door. Satoru followed you in a way that reminded you of a puppy, or a mischievous cat, observing you as you tugged on your shoes. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I can scream really loud.”

“And if they cover your mouth?”

“I bite,” you grinned toothily.

He crooned. “I’ll keep that in mind. You sure you don’t need a ride?”

“I’ll be fine,” you dismissed his uncertainty and double checked your purse as you put it on. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Ah, wait, before you go,” he halted you, reaching out to search through a bowl on the console table pushed up to the wall. After a second or two of digging around, he pulled out a key attached to a ring and held it out to you. “Here, in case nobody’s home when you get back.”

You took it from him and turned it over in your palm, evaluating its untarnished sheen. “Thanks,” you tucked it away safely into a pocket in your purse. “Is it new?”

“Just a spare,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Put it to good use, yeah?”

“Sure,” you agreed.

He patted your head and you scowled at him. “I’ll be awaiting your call for when you need to be rescued.”

You stuck your tongue out at him as you opened the door and stepped out of it. “Dream on.”

His rolling laughter was the last thing you heard as you closed it behind you. The purity of the air awed you again. It was like a medium between you and nature, tickling every one of your senses. There was this certain liberating power in this valley, one that swelled behind your heart and spread out like hot tea on a cold winter morning.

It swirled in your stomach and radiated from your chest in time with your pulse, lulling and salving. Why had you never considered going to the countryside before? 

You were a city-hopper, bouncing from metropolitan hellscape to metropolitan hellscape, where the streets of downtown reeked of anything sickly, apartments were expensive to rent, and you only ever felt like a side character.

Restaurants there were always jam-packed, cafés were less of early day respites and more places of palpable depression. The bars were grimy and boozy, ear-piercingly loud and sweltering with the body heat of dozens of people pressed too tightly together, but at least they were good for one thing.

They were good for shutting down your brain. When it got too loud and too full, when the alcohol burned too much and the people were too touchy, that was when you went into autopilot and thrived in the bliss of silence created by the endless droning of the bass vibrating from your feet to your scalp. You hated liquor, just the thought of it made you queasy, but you craved the buzz it gave you back then.

You didn’t have that luxury now, but you didn’t need it. You hadn’t so much as thought about partaking in that vice since moving, actually. Had you known about the kind of life you could find here, you would have ditched the neon streets a long time ago.

The placidity of mostly untouched vegetation and of the tightly knit community provided a different kind of solace, one that distracted you with things far more interesting than paranoia and anxiety-driven overthinking.

You didn’t feel lost here. Not in the metaphorical sense. Literally had yet to be seen. It remained unfamiliar, but your panic had smoothed out from the first steps you had taken off the train. You could breathe without feeling like there were matches being held too close to your lungs, or needles aimed at your heart.

You didn’t hold onto hope, though. The pattern remained the same. Once you got used to this place, you’d hop on the next train and be on your less-than-merry way.

Will I ever stop running? You asked yourself frequently.

Nobody ever answered.

That’s alright. For now, you were okay. 

Choosing not to indulge in those ideologies, you followed the curving road back down the incline, noting that the car Ijichi had brought you in was gone. You’d need to find a way to thank him, as well as Granny. You didn’t like being indebted to people, especially if it put you at risk of getting tied down.

Satoru was a different problem entirely, since he was letting you live with him. Chores, rent, maybe another thing or two to keep the score level. You weren’t great on brainstorming ideas on how to return favors, but you’d figure it out. A good walk always helped make the creative juices flow.

You ruminated on who he wanted to introduce you to later, coming up with ideas about what he might be like. Hopefully a counterpart and not a duplicate, you weren’t sure how much you’d be able to handle if that was the case. 

If he was friends with Satoru, though, the likelihood of him driving you insane in one way or another was highly likely.

“I bet he’s disgustingly handsome, too,” you muttered cattily under your breath. “I’m gonna see him and the last brain cells I have are gonna explode.”

It didn’t help that you had no idea when you were going to meet this ‘Geto Suguru’. Would you have time to anchor yourself mentally? Would it be today, or a week from now? Could you even prepare at all?

Ugh.

Satoru was right, you thought too much.

As you roamed around, the shrine caught your eye once more, and you stopped to take it in. You hadn’t been to a shrine before – not this kind, anyway. The bigger ones in Tokyo didn’t count. You vaguely remembered how to pray, though you weren’t sure if you should. Paying respects, though, that was fine.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, debating. In the end, it wasn’t a hard choice. You would take any chance to procrastinate and delay facing the disaster awaiting you as much as you could. Except for the bakery Satoru recommended, you were saving that for after you made a plan for your house. You figured you’d want to stress eat afterwards to balm your troubled heart.

Besides, you weren’t sure if you’d have the time to visit after you got started on everything. You had a few days to use up, why not use them to check things out?

The trail leading up to it was easy to find, and though clearly well-traveled and requiring some exertion to traverse, it was clear that it was loved. The flowers on either side of the path were tended to with a compassionate hand, blooming and fragrant. You took a break on several occasions just to sniff a few, admiring them. 

Usually, you were picky about flowers. 

Most were less redolent and more bitterly pungent for you, such as roses. They were elegant, no doubt, but their scent always bordered on perfume-y in a way that reminded you more of an old folks’ home rather than pleasant and subtle beauty. Generally, florid notes made your face scrunch up like you ate something unexpectedly sour.

These flowers were just right, though. They still had those floral undertones, of course, but presented salubrious and fruity essences atop it. It made you mull over why every other flower you smelled before wasn’t palatable. 

Soon, the shrine entrance was in clear view. You traced your finger along the edge of a petal one last time before standing up from your squatting position and making your way over to it. The tower itself was mostly vertical in terms of size, decently small in contrast to the typically larger ones scattered about Japan, but it fit in perfectly with everything else here.

There were two stone benches on either side of the archway leading in, pressed up to the sturdy cobblestone foundation, and lanterns situated at the corners of both, reminding you of a few animated movies with similar designs you’d seen in the past. They were slightly shaded, turned a few degrees away from the sun, and you imagined it would be nice to read there and watch the sun fall asleep beyond the horizon.

The doors were open, guarded by dog-like statues, a bit crudely carved out. Satoru had mentioned it was a shrine dedicated to the wolves that used to roam the mountains, so the statues were likely meant to resemble them. You were curious about the interior, wanting to see the altar up close, since each place of prayer had their own uniquely made one, but the sight of a person clad in white and red kneeling in front of said altar within had you nixing that idea. You could do it another time.

She must have noticed your approach as her head lifted and she peeked partially over her shoulder. She rose up and rotated to face you, and you withheld your exasperation.

Right, this was just fucking ridiculous now, what the fuck.

Why was there another criminally attractive person in this godsforsaken valley? You got scammed, you wanted your money back. Everyone here was so out of your league, you felt like the dog that caught the baseball bat after it’s thrown rather than a player in the game. What, was there going to be an additional good-looking person, ready to knock the wind out of you?

Probably Geto.

If any of these people told you to get down on your knees and bark, you would have without question.

Seriously, why?

You should have been relishing existing in the presence of so many charming folks, but in reality, it just made you feel self conscious.

“Hello,” she greeted as she walked over to you, bringing you out of your internal raging monologue. “May I help you?”

“Oh,” you fluttered your lashes and stammered minutely, trying to recollect yourself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. I just wanted to see the shrine.”

The shrine maiden’s lips tilted up politely. “You’re fine, don’t worry. Are you a tourist?”

“No,” you fidgeted with your thumb and index finger on your right hand. “I moved here recently. I’m checking around to get more acquainted with the area.”

Her brows rose a millimeter short of being comical. “Really? That’s surprising. Did one of the villagers leave that I didn’t know of?”

“Also no. I bought the house on the outskirts, uhh,” you twisted to scan behind you and pointed in the general direction of it. “That way.”

“That house? I thought they’d torn it down a long time ago. Why that one?”

You lowered your arm. “It was cheap. Gave me an excuse to move here properly.”

“I hope you’re not staying there, it’s dangerous,” she frowned, using a stern yet caring voice.

“I’m staying with Gojo Satoru while I fix it up.”

Immediately, the woman’s face twisted into a sneer of repulsion. Scorn shadowed over her honey-brown eyes, causing yours to widen as hers narrowed. “Run away while you still can,” she told you firmly. 

Well, that’s not worrisome at all.

What the hell did he do to her?

“What? Why?” Your brows furrowed.

She sighed as if the mere mention of Gojo had stripped a few years off her lifespan. “He’s the devil in disguise.”

Was anyone ever going to give you a straight answer about him? “Did he…do something?”

Her scorn turned to ire and agitation in a snap. “He’s so obnoxious! And arrogant, I can’t stand to be around him, he pisses me off to no end,” she downright snarled, heat rising to her cheeks from her anger. “He acts all high and mighty when he’s just a spoiled brat that refuses to respect his elders!”

“Oh–”

“Me!” She pointed harshly at herself. “I’m his elder! Well, I mean, not the only one, but still! He was raised like a golden child, given everything he wanted. He loooves getting on everyone’s nerves, especially mine. Get away from him or he’ll send you to an early grave, miss.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you came to view the shrine, but a rant from a peeved miko definitely wasn’t anywhere on your list of possibilities. His name alone sent her into a tailspin, and you would have regretted it if seeing her go off about the man wasn’t more entertaining than it had any right to be. You did feel bad, but madly interested, too.

“I…see,” you reacted stiltedly, stifling a laugh. “Are you, like, exes or something?”

She gaped at you as if you had informed her of her puppy’s passing. “What? No! Absolutely not! I– how could– never even mention–” She abruptly stopped herself, took a few intensely deep breaths to calm herself, then she was smiling kindly again as if nothing had happened. “Where are my manners? I’m Iori Utahime, a miko. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you are?”

Left reeling from her unexpected 180 in demeanor, you stuttered out your own name in response, to which she nodded in approval.

“A lovely name. You said you moved here recently? How fun! What brought you to this valley?”

Satoru had several questions to answer for the next time you saw him. If you had a notepad and pen, you would have been writing them down like a P.I., bobbing your head with a solemn face as you asked Iori to recount her history of events.

“I came to study abroad in Tokyo a few years back, and fell in love with the country,” you said. “I’m not big on cities, though, so coming here seemed perfect.”

Maybe you were embellishing your story a bit, but in all fairness, you didn’t know her. Besides, clean slate; you had no story before this, why not paint one now that you had the freedom to?

You weren’t going to whip up some grand tale about how you were this astonishingly intelligent, leading programmer in your country that did impressive work for science (that was your mother), but it didn’t hurt to fib the truth a small amount. The part about studying abroad was true, anyway.

She appraised you with an interested visage. “I see, I see. Where are you originally from?”

Man, people loved asking that, huh?

It’s not like you could blame them, you’d do the same in their place. You were a foreigner, they were going to treat you like one.

“Ah,” you told her of your place of origin. “It’s nothing special. I mostly traveled.”

“Oh? How did you make money?”

“Freelance,” you answered. “Odd jobs here and there, enough to keep myself afloat. Have you traveled before, Iori-san?” 

You could see the overjoyed spark in her eyes that someone was finally respecting her. “Only within the country,” she responded, somewhat somber. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like outside Japan.”

You tilted your head back to see the sky and think of suggestions. What do the stars look like here? “Depends on where you go. Some places are very packed and have lots of things to do no matter where you go, like Europe. Other places are more sparse, like the States.”

“But the States have more people,” the woman pointed out.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, “but that country is massive and people there tend to group into major cities, rather than be spread out. California is technically bigger than the entirety of Japan, but has way less people.”

Her eyes bulged in surprise. “Really?”

“Yep. It’s why you might hear Westerners say ‘there’s nothing to do here’,” you glanced at the structure behind her. “You guys revere wolves here, right?”

Utahime clapped her hands twice eagerly. “That’s correct! How’d you know?”

Based on her reaction to you merely mentioning Satoru, you figured it’d be best if you didn’t tell her the source of your information. “I’ve heard about it. I was curious, I haven’t been to a smaller shrine like this one before. Only the bigger ones in Tokyo, but those were part of my assignments, rather than for leisure.”

“Oh, it’s not much,” she espied at it from over her shoulder, but you could see the pride in her eyes. It was well taken care of, with love and chariness. It easily passed off as something constructed more recently, given its meticulous maintenance.

“How long ago was it built?”

“Around the same time the settlers first came here.”

This time, your eyes were the ones that opened wide. It had to have been at least 350 years old in that case, based on a rough estimate. “That far back? Wow, it’s in seriously good shape.”

The woman puffed up her chest. “Though the wolves have long since died out here, we still honor them. They helped us with hunts and allowed this village to thrive when we needed it most. They protected us from cursed spirits, as well. It’s only right we treat them and the bounties they’ve given us with respect.”

Oh, there was that term again: cursed spirits. “Could you tell me more about cursed spirits?”

Enthusiasm bubbled up in her the way it would in a child about to tell their parents about the story they wrote up. She skipped over to one of the stone benches and plopped down onto it, patting the spot beside her. You slid onto it, a chill shooting up your spine from the cold temperature. Being shaded from the sun made the rock gelid, go figure.

“Now! Let’s start from the beginning as we know it,” she cleared her throat and took on the role of a teacher. “The origin of cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcery as a whole is largely unknown. It’s speculated that spirits have lived alongside humanity from the beginning of it, as cursed energy is formed by negative emotions, and cursed energy is what spirits are born from.”

She was very animated when teaching, you noticed. Lots of hand movements, facial expressions, and a bouncy attitude to boot. It made for a very entertaining show, and did well to keep you engaged.

“Curses were invisible to humans. Only a select few could see them, and even fewer could actively interact with them in some way or another,” she continued. “Smaller curses would typically leech off of people without them knowing it, feeding off their bad emotions. Stronger curses, however, could be incredibly powerful. Sometimes to the point of standard weapons being completely useless against them, which is why jujutsu sorcery came to fruition. We needed some way to fight back against the spirits, so we developed a way to do just that by manipulating the natural reserves of cursed energy we had within us.”

Folklore from other countries always captivated you. From the creator of mankind in some Chinese mythos named Nüwa, to the counterpart of the equivalent of Santa in Germany, the origin of Halloween and turnip lanterns – even the oddly terrifying ones without nefarious intentions, like Mari Lwyd.

You adored hearing about legends, stories, and tales passed down through oral and written history over the centuries of life existing in each respective land. To say she had you hooked would be an understatement.

What were curses like? Assuming they were real, of course, and that jujutsu sorcery didn’t follow the same ideology as hanging witches. Were they ugly? Bipedal? Humanoid at all? 

“Many natural disasters are blamed on curses, even to this day,” she began lifting her fingers as she counted off a few examples. “Earthquakes, tsunamis, droughts. Pretty much anything you can think of.”

“Were they kinda like demons?”

“Eh,” she tilted her hand side to side a few times. “Yes and no. Depends on who you ask, really. They could be different from demons of hell, or they could be one and the same.”

“I see,” you pinched your chin. “So, where’d they go, then?”

She grasped one of her pigtails, running her fingers through the open and loose portion at the top of it. “Nobody really knows. Some think that sorcerers were able to eradicate them at the source, and died off since they weren’t needed anymore. It could be that the curses have simply lost power due to the progression of mankind, and particularly therapy, though it’s…still kind of taboo. Some claim they’re still around, we just don’t notice because we aren’t able to see any of it.”

Satoru’s words on the matter echoed in your mind. ‘Even if they are real, there's no way they'd beat me.’

You bit your cheek to hold back an unwitting snicker. Leave it up to Satoru to say some brazen shit and have it pop up in your head at random.

“What about you? What do you think?” You asked.

Utahime flicked a piece of invisible dirt off the front of her hakama. “I believe they exist. It’s part of why I’m a miko, and one of the reasons I maintain this shrine. It’s my duty. Curses may not be the same now as they were back then, but that’s no reason for me to slack off. Complacency breeds contempt.”

It was heartwarming, in a way, to see someone still holding onto traditions like these, working to keep her friends, family, and home safe, upholding the rules within and outside places of prayer. You admired her for it.

Not that you would personally want to be a shrine maiden, but you held them in high esteem nonetheless.

“And you?” She peered at you. “Do you believe in the supernatural?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, stretching your legs in front of you and idling back on your hands. “I’m agnostic, neither here nor there. I respect spaces that are considered sacred, I’d rather not get hexed, but I don’t go out of my way to hunt down, let’s say, ghosts.”

“I commend you, many could stand to learn a thing or two from you,” as she spoke, she stood up and brushed off the back of her kosode. “You are good company, though I fear I should get back to work soon.”

“Ah,” you got up as well and bowed to her. “Thank you for sharing your stories with me, Iori-san. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

She waved her hand. “You didn’t, don’t worry. Come visit me again soon, okay? I’d love to hear stories of your travels as well.”

“Sure,” promised easily, more than content to exchange tales with her. “Stay safe.”

“Likewise,” the noirette disappeared back into the shrine with a final word of parting, leaving you to your devices.

While you didn’t get to see the altar inside, you considered the visit worthwhile, and got a new acquaintance out of it, too. You could come back to check it out another day.

Having burned through all the reasonable amount of procrastination time you allowed yourself, you voyaged back down the path, appreciating the blooms the whole way down the same way you had when you went the other way. You had to ask Utahime if she was the one tending to them next time you saw her.

You were proud to say that you only got lost twice. But you did find the bakery on the way, and memorized where it was once you located the path home. Not bad, not bad at all. You managed to find your way around, and you didn’t need to embarrass yourself by calling Satoru to come to your rescue.

It’s sad how low your standards for happiness had fallen, but you’d take any crumb of serotonin you could find.

You noticed the trip to your house was shorter whenever you actively didn’t want to go there, as if it was a living creature that purposefully made you arrive faster, just so you had to give it attention.

It stood, looming, mocking you. Taunting you, the monstrosity. What an asshole.

The outside matters came first, the less time you had to spend inside, the better. You pulled up the notes app on your phone and began the task of drafting everything you needed to deal with, denoting it as the ‘Outdoor’ section in your native tongue.

Fence, you typed down, scribbling sporadic thoughts as you went. Tear down? Repair? Replace?

You checked the ends and noted that the fence only went back about halfway into your property, leaving the back uncovered. Covers only front. Built like that? Collapsed/removed in the back? 

You felt the stalks of yellow-ish green leafage with your palm, the tips reaching your hips. Cut down grass and weeds. You should plant pollinator flowers if the yard was ever cleared out well enough. It’d be nice to have some butterflies and bees around to help everything grow nice and healthy. 

You lightly nudged a piece of a busted plant pot with the toe of your shoe. Dispose of broken pots. A slight stumble had you leering down to see a strangely shaped tile. You tilted your head in confusion, then peered up at the edge of the roof, deducing it was a shingle that had fallen off. You stepped further away from the roof, just in case. And fallen & loose shingles.

Rounding the side, you waded through the overgrown flora, poring over the condition of the rundown house’s environment. Remove ivy from walls. Set up trellises. Lattices to form a backyard/patio/garden/thing?

Angling your chin up, you placed your hand over your forehead and assessed the roof. From on the ground, you wouldn’t be able to completely acknowledge the damage done to it over the years it sat untouched, but you were reluctant to climb on it to see first hand. You didn’t have a ladder, for starters, and you liked having unbroken bones and working shins. 

Get a ladder.

The back of the estate was in the same condition as everything else. Which is to say, disheartening. 

“What’ve I got myself into…” You muttered.

You spotted a narrow garden plot built into the back of the house. Overgrown, yes, but it’d be perfect for planting stuff when you got it all cleared up.

It wasn’t a question of ‘if’, unfortunately. You had no other real choice besides mending what was left in your hands.

You were still miffed at the real estate agent. You likely wouldn’t have purchased this piece of land had you known what was ahead. Or if you were in a better state of mind, honestly, rather than being in the middle of your fight-or-flight phase of living.

“No good dwelling on the past,” you whispered to yourself as you circled back to the front. “Can’t change it now.”

You took a deep, long, full breath, enjoying the fresh and crisp air while you still could. You savored the temperate hints of nature and the clement weather, treating it like it would be your last time experiencing such comfort. You didn’t know if your nostrils (or you) would survive the excursion into hell you were about to go on, so you weren’t risking taking the breeze for granted.

Exhaling all in one big puff, you steeled your shoulders and pushed open your front door, your free hand covering your nose in anticipation. Replace hinges and/or front door.

It managed to punch you in the gut regardless. 

New section in your notes open, you got to work typing. The most obvious issues came first, such as the floors, the peeling walls, and exposed boning and pipes. A lot would possibly need to be replaced, such as the counters in the kitchen, cupboards…

Floor rotted(?) and sticky. Wash?

Spackle for holes in walls? New drywall instead?

Check insulation.

Your spirits fell more and more with each additional item of note you wrote onto the list. Could any of this be salvaged? Were you better off tearing it down?

Remove tatami. Replace? Don’t?

Stepping into what you assumed was the master bedroom, you made your way over to the sleeping bag you left behind and cautiously rolled it up, maneuvering around the grime stuck to it, and placed it against a corner. You’d toss it when you got the chance to.

M-bed closet missing doors and shelf.

Seeing the window, you tip-toed to it, hoping to open it to air out the room. Your nose formed bunny lines at the cobwebs littering the sill and edges. While there weren’t any spiders – as far as you could see – you still did not enjoy touching them in the slightest.

Pushing up from the center of the window proved to be futile, the frame wasn’t going to be budging anytime soon.

Windows stuck.

Remove spider webs.

There was litter here and there – torn pieces of paper, a ripped open baggie, fabric – that you decided to leave as is. Along with not having gloves to pry them off the ground, you didn’t have anything to throw them away into. They got to live another day.

Toss out trash.

The shower and bathroom had a cupboard tucked off to the side, but opening it showed the middle platform separating the top and bottom within was crumbly and would break if you put any weight on it.  Replace shelf in bathroom cupboard.

The tiles were all fucked up, too. Some were chipped, others were outright broken or missing. Rust had gathered around the tap and drain in the tub, likely from years of having a leaky faucet before it ran out of water to drip.

Clean out rust in bath/pipes. Throw away broken floor tiles. Replace.

You pulled the left handle of the sink faucet and waited for a few seconds to see if the plumbing was functional.

Which was a big, fat no.

Plumbing. Faucets.

Limescale on shower head, wall tiles.

You scrolled through what notes you had already created and chewed on the corner of your bottom lip, thinking of what else you might have needed to write down. You fixated blankly on the wall in front of you as you went over everything, then quickly typed out a few more things.

Electricity.

Check for asbestos, lead in paint.

You figured the tasks you needed to do would pop up as you went along, considering your notes to be a simple skeleton outline. You could jot down other things as needed, and work through them one by one.

Having done as much as possible while staying inside for as long as you could tolerate, you walked back outside and dug around in your purse for the piece of paper Granny had given you, the one with names and numbers of people that could help you in this endeavor.

To say you were beginning to panic would be an understatement. You already bought the damn thing, and doubted you’d be able to resell it and get all your money back. You also didn’t want to subject anyone to repairing the thing when it was both a health hazard and an embarrassment. 

You had some reserve money, but it wasn’t a whole lot, so you required that job Granny gave you.

Gojo said you could stay with him for however long you needed, but that was with the expectation that you’d leave once your house was fixed up. Given the village’s size, it was unlikely that you would find another place within it to live in, even after saving up some money working for Granny. You didn’t want to piggy-back off anyone and be an imposition; the only reason you felt less guilty about staying with the moon-haired idiot was due to the sheer amount of space he had in his mansion.

You were swiftly running out of options.

Your lips paled as you pressed them tightly together, trying to wrack your mind for ideas. You couldn’t sell it, and you didn’t want to deal with the humiliation of having strangers work for you. In such a small town, word spread like fire on a dry wick. Who knows what they would say about you?

Realistically, it wasn’t your fault, you knew this. The house hadn’t been built under your name and, hell, was likely older than you by at least a decade or two. It didn’t fall to ruin because of you, but you were the owner of this house now, the responsibility rested on your shoulders.

You read through the list of handymen under your thumb, the paper shaking slightly from the death grip you had on it.

Repairing it on your own was technically an option, but you would be basically begging for severe injuries or even death by attempting that. You wouldn’t even know where to start. Foundation? Floors? Structure? Roof? You didn’t fucking know how to do any of that shit!

…Or you could just burn the damn eyesore to the ground ‘til there was naught but ashes left.

No, that was a stupid idea, but you were out of any good ones.

The thought you had previously of tearing it down and buying a garden shed to reside in was feeling more and more tempting by the hour. It was unreasonable, you knew, you simply…didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

You were used to doing things alone. You relied solely on yourself, trusted only your own words and intentions. Letting people in was not something you did for many reasons. Maybe you did crave closeness and camaraderie at some point in the distant past, but the concept was out of the question entirely now. It made uncomfortable butterflies sit heavy in your stomach, the urge to vanish into the treelines and never be seen again increasing with each extraneous person you invited into your life.

You sighed. “I should have just moved into the woods and turned into a witch,” you grumbled low, then scoffed sardonically. “Right, as if I wouldn’t accidentally poison myself with a weird mushroom on day three and die a horrible, painful, slow death.”

The two lists you had remained in your somewhat reluctant hands. You knew you were way in over your head, and you’d probably unintentionally curse the house sooner than you managed to make a positive change, but…you weren’t used to asking for help. Always the type to manage shit on your own, get things done yourself, be independent. Could you really be faulted for having a hard time reaching out to anyone else?

Especially since you hadn’t even met any of them yet. That would be disconcerting, asking folks you’d never seen – let alone spoken to – before to work for you.

Your phone singed your fingers. You did know someone, and knew that he was just a phone call away, but did you really want to deal with him of all people? He would take this chance to rub it all in your face and then some.

You carefully weighed your choices.

Rebuild the house yourself with no former experience with anything beyond shitty popsicle stick bird huts.

Call someone on the list, explain your situation, and ask for help.

Call the prick.

…By the gods, you really hated making calls to people you didn’t know.

Shamefully carping to yourself, you dialed Satoru’s number, trying to ignore the contact name he had set up for himself. It was so glitzy, the ✨❤️ Satoru ❤️✨ sitting at the top of the call screen making you stifle a short laugh, ironically lifting your spirits. “Here goes nothing…”

He answered within three rings. “Yo, been a while, princess” Satoru purred as if you hadn’t seen him that morning, and you rolled your eyes, despite not being there in person for him to see.

“You greet every girl like that?”

“Nope, just you,” you could hear his grin. “Whatcha need?”

Now came the part where you set aside your pride and voiced what you very much did not want to. Again. You’d known this man for barely 24 hours and he already had several wins over you. In…whatever game you decided you were losing. “Look, I…I need your help.”

“Oho? What’s this? Is the princess finally admitting how much she misses me?” 

Smug dick.

“I did not say that,” you immediately berated him.

He simply hummed, unaffected. “Same thing.”

You ran your hand down your face, already exasperated just 30 seconds into the call. “You– ugh, just, can you help me or not?”

“Depends on what you need, sugar plum. Did ya get lost already?”

This man was going to be the cause of your madness. The bridge of your nose ached where you pinched it. “Granny gave me a list of people to call to help me with my house and I really don’t want to call any of them.”

“Then don’t.” 

“And, what, do everything by myself?”

You could envision him shrugging. “Why not? I could help you.”

“Satoru, I trust a wild forest fire more than I trust you with a hammer.”

“Ouch,” he sucked air through his teeth, faux whimpering. “You’re such a bully. Fine, I’ll help you with contacting everyone.”

Oh, that took less fighting and groveling than you expected. You exhaled in relief. “Thank you–”

“On,” he interrupted you, “one condition.”

There it is.

Your skin began to sting as you dug your nails harder into it, leaving curved indents between your eyes. “Y’know what, I think I’ll be fine–”

“Ah-ah-ah, hang on a second there, pretty girl. Hear me out.”

Conceding, you sighed and urged him to make his request. “Fine, what is it?”

"Cook something for me,” he requested. “Consider it evening the score.”

Your face scrunched up into a question mark. “Wait, that’s it?

“What, do you want it to be more?”

“No, no, I can do that,” you quickly declined, biting on the edge of your thumbnail as you tried to think of something to prepare for him. “Do you have any preferences?”

“Sweets.”

Sweet stuff. Okay, you could work with that. You could bake some pretty killer macarons. You didn't know what ingredients he had at home, or how to operate his oven, but you'd just figure it out, right?

“Alright, I can do that,” you answered.

“We have a deal, then?”

You took a moment to consider. You could back out, but your introverted personality made that notion null. It was only baking, too, rather than the ghastly demand you were expecting him to make. Baking it is. “Deal.”

“Great! We’ll be over in a flash!~”

“Okay–” wait. “‘We’–?”

He hung up before you could ask. You groaned and contemplated smashing your phone against the ground, but decided against it. You needed the thing, unfortunately.

Since you had to wait for however long, you chose to add in some thoughts to what you’d already written down, brainstorming how you wanted to proceed. It was difficult to tell at this stage, before you started on anything. But you could pick out what you might want to plant; flowers, vegetables, a fruit tree or two. So what if you were fantasizing? It helped keep you calm. Escapism was a valid coping mechanism.

It was too hard to picture anything given the state of the house, though. You’d need to snip down the field first and go from there, when you could see everything clearly.

How much did contractor services cost in Japan? What about the people Granny knew, how much did they charge? What kind of services did they provide? Your toe tapped repeatedly as you stepped outside your fence, trying not to pace.

Would you need one, or multiple? Were you going to have to get materials from the nearby city by yourself, or would they do that? If the former, how?

“I need an adult,” you lamented, your shoulders slouching and arms folding over your chest. “I wanna die. I’m not mature enough for this shit.”

You recalled what your mother told you often when you were younger: ‘not everything at once.’

Easier said than done. Sleep on it, one step at a time, break it down into shorter tasks, nothing was taking the edge off your stress.

“I’ll just start with the grass,” you muttered, eventually succumbing to the need to pace. “I have to start somewhere, and I’ll need to get rid of that before anything else can be done. Oh, but, fuck, there’s so much of it…not to mention debris, rocks…do they still make scythes? Can’t launch a pebble with a scythe. No, wait, that’d be so much more effort and take more time…”

A flicker of alabaster down the road caught your eye, halting your hurried back-and-forth roving and hushed bleating.

Satoru was always easy to spot from a distance. It was hard not to see him when his hair redirected the sun like a mirror, blinding anyone who saw him from the wrong angle. He was the angel on your shoulder with the personality of the devil, urging you to dive into your most heinous and blasphemous thoughts. The light bouncing off his head created a glowing aura around it, resembling a silver halo, further pushing that deceptive angel motif.

Would the halo turn gold in the light of the crimson rays of fading day?

You uncrossed your arms, ready to greet him, only to notice the man beside him. They were conversing, and the latter must have said something funny, as the former guffawed hysterically. It echoed off the mountains on either side of the valley, reaching you with no concern for distance. 

Did such bellows reach across the entire settlement, or was it localized, feeling louder than it actually was due to an echo chamber effect?

Gojo’s cachinnation dissipated when the pair were close enough to you, at which point he waved his hand high in the air to greet you avidly, like you weren’t only 20 feet from them.

“Hey! Didn’t keep ya waitin’ too long, did we?”

Truthfully, the fifteen or so minutes you had been waiting for them had gone by in a flash when you were so deeply buried in your spiraling thoughts while remembering dumb shit sprinkled into your internal ranting. The only evidence of your anticipation for their arrival being the barely present ache in your heels from where you rested most of your weight on them.

“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate. 

You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

‘This one’ was breathtaking.

His midnight hair caught the sunlight in a scintillating iridescence that shifted between the deepest phthalo blue you’d ever seen and a mesmerizing sheen of violet when the light caught it just right, like the feathers of a raven. It struck you how glossy and luxuriously silky it was, and you wanted to pull it out of the high bun he kept it in to run your fingers through it endlessly. That one loose section of his bangs that hovered over his eye was just so cute, your digits itched to tug on it.

And, speaking of, those eyes. 

Sharp enough to cut diamonds and make you stand straighter. Heat rose to your cheeks as he observed you, head cocked to the side with a smooth and sweet smile that absolutely melted your insides like soft-serve ice cream, lily-livered and defenseless against the blazing sun incarnate in the form of a man.

They were dark, yet warm; a rich chocolate in hue that you could swear had flecks of gold within and rings of wisteria coiling around his abyssal pupils.

He was tall and foreboding, just like Satoru, but in a completely different fashion. He was the radiant Sol, pacifying and precious heat licking at your skin, soothing away the frostbite of winters long past. 

Beside him stood the Moon, reflective and brilliant and so goddamn cocky that it made your cheeks hurt – whether from biting the insides of them to hide back a smile, or to prevent yourself from smacking that shameless attitude out of him, you didn’t know. It didn’t matter. 

Satoru’s pearly locks contrasted sharply with Suguru’s obsidian lace, providing a striking visual. These godly beings towered over you, imposing and otherworldly and too good to be true, yet you knew your imagination could never come up with men like them.

And you?

You poor, dear, sweet, dumb little lamb. A pathetic speck caught in the gravity they created. Two black holes, eager to suck you in and rip you to shreds, and you were tempted to let them, practically falling into them without their overwhelming influence affecting you.

Their presence, their power, their very existence that demanded you drop to your knees to worship and beg like the tragic whore you were dominated your consciousness, filling it with fantasies you hadn’t experienced in…gods, ever. Nobody exuded the same aura they did, nobody made you weak-kneed and aching between your thighs, not like this. They created a desire in you that you wanted to have fulfilled – needed, even.

The pop of your knuckle in your fist that you had subconsciously created managed to snap you from your revere and back into the present, reminding you that, perhaps, you should do something, rather than drool like an idiot. 

You’ve gone fucking crazy. That was it, the last straw, the last hauntingly magnificent person. Why, oh, why did you move here?

With no small amount of embarrassment at the realization that your panties were a bit more damp than they were a minute ago, you clenched your jaw hard enough to anchor yourself, and made a mental note to get rid of the problem between your legs as soon as you were alone and could succumb to the pleasure, the yearning, you hadn’t experienced in ages.

As well as pretend it wasn’t caused by them, the iconic duo that had you in a mental fit.

Hoping you hadn’t made a total fool of yourself, you turned and bowed respectfully, saying your name in return as you stared at the ground in an attempt to clear your mind of the filth it created on its own, unprompted. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Geto-san.”

Suguru studied you for a few seconds (don’t look at me like that, please, I’m begging you, spare me), then faced the male beside him with an amused expression. “Are you sure this is the same girl you were telling me about? The brat?”

Oh, heavens, that voice.

Fire exploded across your cheeks and pooled deep in the lower pits of your stomach when you heard him say that word; enunciate it clearly, croon it in that damned tone that had electricity jolting up your spine.

Not now, slut. Focus.

It was significantly easier to ignore the unholy fantasies plaguing your sanity when you centered all that pent up energy into being annoyed at Satoru, questioning your already questionable friendship when you learned of what he called you in private. Your eyes narrowed into an icy glare, primed and deadly. To your agitation and further chagrin, he only smirked boyishly at you.

“That’s the one,” he replied with a widening grin as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“She's far too polite,” Geto countered.

Satoru snorted. “Trust me, she's a spitfire.”

“Is that so…” The onyx-haired man bent down to come closer to your face, and your breath hitched in your throat, refusing to come out properly. His scent embraced you. Mild, pleasant, like warm chai and jasmine, making your muscles instinctively loosen.

His eyes softened into closed curves as he beamed at you. You really hoped he couldn't read your mind. There was nothing holy or sane in there.

“Your name is lovely as is,” he murmured as his voice lowered into a roguish octave, “but I think I have a better one in mind.”

“W-What?” Your own vocal cords strained just to get the one word out in a wimpy squeak, and of course you just had to stutter. Whereas the air Satoru emitted naturally made you want to tackle him to the ground, Suguru’s wrapped around you like wisps of incense smoke, soothing and gently demanding your obsession with its fragrance. It inexplicably made you want to thaw into a puddle, to give him your full and undivided focus.

His canines peeked through from the way his lips curled further, entertained by your sudden timidness. He remained quiet, merely viewing your reactions as he lifted a hand to loop a strand of your hair around his finger and by the gods, don’t look at his fingers and how long and big they are and how perfect they’d feel–

“Angel,” the man said, practically cooing it at you.

You stifled a croak, verbally cuffed out of your totally, positively, very wholesome thoughts. “What?”

If you could die from embarrassment and be let out of this hell hole, you’d keel over on the spot when he simpered. “Angel,” he so graciously repeated for you. “I believe it suits you quite well. Wouldn’t you say so, Satoru?”

Satoru was having the time of his life, you were sure of it. You could feel him staring into you, see that stupid sexy fucking smile on his face from the corner of your eye as he teased you and, shit, why were you in the middle of this? Had you committed some heinous sin? Was this your punishment? 

“I don’t know,” he hummed in deliberation. “I prefer bunny. Or mochi.” 

“Mochi?” You and Suguru questioned at the same time, swiveling to regard the alabaster man.

Gojo nodded. “Small, probably tastes sweet, squishy.”

“Squishy?” You gaped incredulously, relocating your befuddled scrutiny to Geto when he burst out into laughter.

“I can see it,” Suguru coincided, earning himself a pretty nasty glare, too.

You groaned and tilted your face up, pleading with the sky to give you strength. “Don’t you start, too. One Satoru is enough, thanks.”

He hummed and smirked, something mischievous twinkling in his eyes. You didn't like that countenance. Not one bit. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” he bowed his head towards you, changing the subject. Thank fuck. “You moved here recently, yes?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed, molling the racing of your heart that was just a few beats short of being uncomfortable. “Technically the night before yesterday.”

“You had a safe trip, then, I hope?”

You sent the stone stepping path partially hidden by the overgrown grass a particularly scathing grimace. “I almost ate shit and died on my own porch, but I did, yes.”

His husky laugh was messing up your insides. “Glad you’re in one piece. It was the stepping stones, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, oh, my god. They’re out to kill me, I swear.”

“They’ve gotten me a couple times, too. It’s good to see this house will finally be getting some love.”

“I think you’re the only person that’s been positive about this so far,” you scratched your cheek with your index finger. “Everyone else has told me it’s grossly dangerous. Wish I’d known that before I skimped out on finding a place to stay for the first night…”

Suguru’s browline furrowed in disquietude. “You slept in there?”

You exhaled harshly and hung your head. “Don’t remind me.”

“You aren’t feeling sick, are you?”

You shook your head and patted his arm reassuringly. “No, just humiliated.”

His expression relaxed, the hardness in his deep maroon eyes tempering. “That’s good. If you do feel ill, don’t brush it off. Excess activity can worsen your health and prolong sicknesses.”

Aww, a mother hen? He was in your good books now, you felt all fluffy, being cared for by him. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

Satoru pushed his way between you two, resting one arm on Suguru’s shoulder and the other on your head, coveting your attention. “So, what’s the plan, mochi?”

“Good question,” you said.

There was a brief pause, as if you were all waiting for someone else to speak, before he leaned down towards you. “Well?”

“What?”

“The plan? What’s the plan?” He lifted a brow. 

“Oh,” you darted your eyes between them. “Oh, no, I don’t have one. I just said it’s a good question.”

Suguru frowned. “Nothing at all?”

You pulled up your notes app and scrolled through it. “I guess cut the lawn, and call up the folks on Granny’s list for starters.”

“Can I see her list?”

“Mm,” you held out the paper to him, cringing when you saw how your fingers wrinkled the corner of it out of stress.

A crease in his forehead formed, deepening the more names he read, making you nervous. On top of how nervous you were already feeling. You were nervous-squared now.

“What is it?” You asked.

“It’s nothing. Just…I don’t think any of these guys will have enough free time to help you out. Not for a while, anyway,” he returned the sheet to you. “However, I grew up assisting them, so I know a thing or two. Mind if I go inside?”

Well, if that wasn’t soul crushing. “If you have a gas mask, go ahead. The smell inside could knock out a grown man. I don’t want to trouble you, though.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ve been needing something to do these days, this could be the perfect excuse for me,” he assured you. “I’ll be quick.”

“Oh– hang on, there might be asbestos in there,” you warned.

“There isn’t,” he assured confidently.

Satoru narrowed his eyes. “How do you know? Huh? Were you there when this house was built? Didn’t think so.”

Suguru leveled him with a vacant lour. “Asbestos wasn’t used in the construction of any houses here. Besides being expensive to import, our village was constructed with traditional methods. This building was Western inspired, but it wasn’t built with Western methods.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, nervously picking at a spot on your forearm. “Who built it?”

“From what I know, it was someone from either Kobe or Osaka that visited a state in America on vacation and fell in love with the architecture. First thing they did when they came back was buy this plot of land and build an imitation house on it,” he answered.

“Why’d they leave?”

He raised a hand, then dropped it in a half-shrug. “Any number of reasons. Some of the older folks say that their spouse fell ill, and they had to return to the city. My mom says they moved out because they got sick of driving an hour and a half one way to get to work every day. Dad says their sister gave birth and they had to return and assist her since she worked full time. Who knows.”

“Eh?” Satoru’s expression twisted into one of confusion. “I thought the owner just died or something. Hence why the house is haunted.”

“The house isn’t haunted, Satoru. Don’t scare her.”

You cracked your knuckles one-by-one. “If it is haunted, I’m gonna give that realtor hell. He promised it wasn’t. He also promised it hadn’t been touched in only ten years, so he’s already on my list,” you growled, then deflated and wilted. “I suppose I’m not in any rush, I’ll need to save up anyway. I’m bumming off Satoru for now, but I don’t wanna prolong that.”

“I already told you,” he patted your upper back. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Satoru. I really owe you,” you said. I hate owing people. “Oh– be careful, Geto-san.”

He gave a pacifying hand wave as he pushed past your open gate, heading towards your house. Satoru hopped up and hurried after him. “Oi, wait up! I wanna see, too!” 

“Satoru, you’ve already been in there before,” Suguru reminded him as you followed them about halfway, wanting to steer clear of the inside for a while.

Satoru twisted the door knob and pushed inwards. “Yeah, when we were kids. Imagine how much it’s changed!”

“I doubt it’s changed much,” their voices grew muffled and eventually silent to you as they disappeared into your home.

You began counting in your head. If they were gone for more than two minutes, you were going to assume they died. Then you could officially label the house as haunted and hunt that realtor’s ass down. After you set up a prayer altar for the boys who so bravely sacrificed their lives for you, obviously, they deserved that at the very least.

You’d have to check with the villagers to see if either of them practiced any particular faith to ensure you provided the correct funeral services for them, and to know if you needed to follow any specific spiritual rules when it came to the deceased.

Should you leave their bodies in there? Probably not, no, but it wasn’t going to be you fishing them out. You were tiny compared to them, you wouldn’t be able to drag them out yourself, even if you wanted to and tried really hard.

Your peculiar funeral fantasies were cut off then Suguru came back outside, still very much alive and well – from what you could tell.

“You lived,” you congratulated him.

“That I did,” he affirmed and stopped beside you, turning to face the house as his arms folded neatly.

“Is he still alive?”

“Last I checked, he was. I’m surprised he didn’t leave as soon as he went in. I think he’s trying to out-man me and impress you,” he teased, making you laugh.

Out came Satoru right then, dusting his hands off, acting like he did anything more than recce. “Alright, I’ve got good news and bad news. Which d’ya want first?”

“Good news,” you requested apprehensively.

He clapped his palms together. “Good news, the interior condition isn’t as bad as it seems.”

Well, that was good news. But you were wary to celebrate. “And the bad news…?”

“There are, indeed, a shit ton of spiders.”

You squealed, racing to hide behind Suguru’s tall frame. The man himself chuckled at your reaction, his arms still crossed over his chest as he tilted his head back to peer at you from over his shoulder, way too relaxed for the situation. “Not a fan of spiders?”

“Fuck no!” You cried out, clutching the back of his shirt in tight fists as you buried your face against his spine. “Fuck that! Burn the damn thing down!”

Gojo grinned darkly, eyes lighting up with mischief. “All you had to say, princess.”

The noiret (the only reasonable one among you) sighed and shook his head. “No, we’re not burning her house down.”

“Boo,” Satoru whined. “You’re no fun.”

“You aren't afraid of spiders?” You peeked around Suguru's arm to leer up at him, still using him as your shield.

“Nope.”

“You monster,” you hissed.

His best friend snorted. “Look on the bright side. It means he can get rid of spiders for you.”

You paused to consider his words, squinting up at the poised man you hadn’t let go of.

“Okay, nevermind, I take it back,” you declared, doing a complete flip in behavior, “you're my god, now, Geto-san.”

He showed you that shut-eyes smile that had hummingbirds dancing the tango in your stomach. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll protect you.”

Blush dusted your cheeks at his pledge and you averted your eyes. Having either of them in your field of view for too long was not good for your heart.

Satoru wouldn’t be Satoru if he didn’t go and embarrass you further. “Aww, she’s blushing!”

“I am not!” You barked back.

“I think it’s cute,” Geto’s cheek dimpled and you were flashbanged by the faces of not one, but two ethereal beings.

Mama, you thought, if you can hear me, send help. I don’t think I’m making it out of this one.

You gulped, the noise far too loud in your ears, and tried to subtly cover your face with your hand to retain some dignity while releasing Suguru’s shirt from your death grip. “A-Anyways, uh…should probably start calling people.”

“I’ll handle the calls,” Suguru announced, already pulling out his phone and dialing numbers. “I know these guys well. I’ll try to work something out with them.”

“Oh, you really don’t–” and there he went. You knew you asked for help, but you felt bad inconveniencing Suguru. Satoru, not so much.

“What’d I say about worrying?” Speak of the devil, the milk-haired boy bent down to your height and nudged his pointer finger between your brows. “Relaaaax, princess. It’ll work out.”

You worried your bottom lip as you watched the other man chatting some distance away. Detaching yourself from your perpetual anxiety was…difficult, to describe it in the least amount of words possible. Your guard was stuck to you, pinned, screwed, and soldered into place over time. Letting it go meant undoing years of work. 

It was there to shield you. You needed it to hold your untempered heart and keep it safe. If it got hurt, you weren’t sure you knew how to recover.

But you weren’t really letting them in by allowing them to help you, right?

Yet, as you sized up the small incline and the shack falling apart on top of it, you couldn’t shake the impression that the world was about to tilt on its axis. The tides were receding, tectonic pressure was increasing, the winds were stirring, and you were in the middle of it all. Mama, you reached out one last time. I think it’s too late.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[cb97percent]

「Screw It」 · Chapter 2

HIS SECOND THOUGHTS ➥ Chris is supposed to 'let loose' at the biannual depravity festival a.k.a the Sigma Kappa mixer.

➥ The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to proceed at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.

➥ Installment of The Red Lights Chronicles

⚠ — Discussions of virginity (see masterlist for more)

“How the fuck is everyone so natural at this?” Chris quickly scanned the large room, his face contorted in mild shock.

The entire place was buzzing with laughter and varying levels of sleaziness. People talking to one another way too closely, dancing a bit too intimately, licking salt off each other’s necks and what have you…

Then you had the Holmes-Watson duo at the secluded corner of the bar, looking way too serious like they were discussing politics over brandy in the late 1800s.

“Did you notice how the guys are exchanging their dick game testimonials?”

“WHAT?! No?”

“That’s because they don’t!” Jisung slid another shot glass towards his friend and raised his for a toast, “Everyone’s just following their instincts, my man. It’s called thinking with your dick.”

It was frustratingly easy to tell someone (not) to do something, wasn’t it? Oh, don’t worry about it. Change your perspective. Don’t let it get to you. Turn a blind eye. Don’t be depressed. 

Actually doing it, though? Goddamn monk patience right there.

It wasn’t like Chris was incapable of assigning the driver’s seat to his reproductive parts. If anything, his mind was way too preoccupied with it, but strictly when he was alone rather than in public functions like this. A force of habit to be ‘proper’. Every time he was about to get physical with someone, that same footage installed itself in his jumbotron inner-mind theater like a cruel foreshadowing of what was about to go down. 

Getting scarred once isn’t enough? Try the latest Christopheresque methods of self-torture for a chance to win a gift card!

In conclusion, no, he couldn’t figure out a way to ‘not let it get to him’.

He was trying, and god fucking knows he wanted to remove that bothersome splinter buried six feet under his façade, but something always seemed to conveniently get in the way.

This one’s too chatty. That one’s on TikTok. This one thinks it’s okay to say ‘irregardless’. That one wears too much lime green.

As if any of that was fundamentally important for sexual chemistry. But he couldn’t help it. 

The more time passed by, the bigger his inadequacy complex grew since he wasn’t able to, quote, ‘stack up those XP points when he could.’ Now it seemed too late like he missed some important deadline, and the whole thing was a piece of gum stuck to his shoes, continuously faltering him and making cringeworthy noises when he walked.

You. Suck. You. Suck. You. Suck.

Maybe pursuing doctoral education was just a massive overcompensation on his part, who knows? 

“It’s not rocket science, man, just…” Jisung mimed something that was supposed to be his soul leaving his body, “Let loose.”

“Let… loose,” Chris echoed his words while zoning out, but his mind was simply not cooperating with him to be present, “Shit! I needed to revise my syllabus.”

“My god you’re a nerd,” Jisung looked at him in utter disbelief, then sought help from Minho behind the bar, “Ares package. Make it two.”

While ten shots of Wet Pussies were being prepared, he examined Chris’ distracted face. Channie boy was like this for as long as Jisung knew the guy. Stubborn. Headstrong. Latching onto everything he could find to repair his pride. Of course it didn’t mean shit to be a virgin regardless of where you were in the adult timeline, but instead of admitting how much it was bothering him, Chris was pretending to be at peace with it. That was the frustrating part. And if he weren’t spectacularly failing at it, Jisung wouldn’t even consider dragging his ass to every social gathering he could find, but simply talking to the man did not seem to be working anymore. This bootleg immersion therapy was his last resort before he brought up the alternative of escorts again and risked getting punched in the face.

Or worse, another seminar on the ethics of sex work.

“Stop sabotaging yourself,” Jisung slapped him on the shoulder, “Just enjoy the moment for once.”

Why, I’d love to see a step-by-step demonstration of that, Chris wanted to loudly roll his eyes but pumped the brakes at the last second. He wasn’t even mad at Jisung. He wasn’t mad at anyone actually. The only person he loathed with a burning passion was himself for making a huge deal out of something that was supposed to be so damn trivial. He raised his shot for a silent toast and downed all five back to back to take all the residual edge off.

He didn’t want to fucking think anymore.

���She seems cool,” Jisung nodded towards a girl surrounded by what looked like the distant cousins of the Kardashians.

“I don’t think so,” Chris immediately protested, “Looks like she would livetweet it.”

“How about her?”

“GOD no. Too much Slytherin energy.”

“How is that even—?”

“Not the Lestrange kind. Pass,” Chris leveraged Jisung’s one weakness, “You know what, I thi—”

“Fucking stop overthinking this, or I’m gonna risk it all and slap the shit out of you,” he held onto Chris’ broad as fuck shoulders and harshly shook him, “Tonight we’re letting loose. Say it, what are we gonna do?”

“Let–Let loose.”

“With feeling.”

“Let loose.”

“DIG DEEP!”

“LET LOOSE!”

“Can I be a part of that?”

The duo was startled to death when they heard an unfamiliar voice next to them, not to mention right in the middle of a mortifying pep talk. The commandments of Wingmanism dictated doing the preliminary eliminations on behalf of your bro, immediately prompting Jisung to turn on his radar.

Looks? Check. Locked phone? Check. Lack of lime green? Check. 

Without giving Chris the chance to make a dumbass argument, he approved of this candidate and nudged the prospective coupling of the night towards the couch. When he turned to the bar again, he heaved a huge sigh as if he had just put the kids to bed.

“Still trying to get him laid?” Minho asked with a faded sneer.

“I’m gonna die with my eyes open if I depart this world without seeing it,” Jisung hyperbolically gestured, but one look at the gorgeous cheekbones in front of him, and his whole entire personality changed, “But more importantly, whatchu doing later tonight?”

“Damn, they don’t do pleasantries where you’re from?”

“Come on, you like me,” he leaned forward, the smile on his face impossible not to reciprocate, “Why do you drag me around so much? I’m obviously simping for you.”

“You realize I’m holding a sharp object.”

“That’s your version of batting eyelashes. Everybody knows that.”

As much as he wanted to keep the psychotically stoic mask, something about the quokka dude was just plain irresistible. Careful not to give a hundred percent of what he wanted, Minho let out a snort and darted his eyes away.

“Ask me again in two hours and we’ll see.”

Jisung triumphantly slammed his hand on the bar top, scaring the shit out of his porcelain prince, then disappeared into the crowd to mingle with some of his friends.

Meanwhile on the blue corner, Chris was midway through one of the most intense mental statistics of his life.

The girl in front of him was a total ten. He knew a couple of guys who would murder him in cold blood just to get with someone like her. One needed to have inoperable astigmatism not to notice she was encouraging him to… well, let loose. Her body language was clearly indicative of willingness. Touching his arm, playing with her hair, laughing at a genuinely unfunny joke—if he made a move now, she would leave with him. 

Ergo, p < 0.05. Possibility of score: 97%.

“Do you think we can take this somewhere… more private?” the nameless girl finally brought it up herself when Chris failed to mention anything remotely evocative of sex. It was a simple yes or no question, but he was choking harder than B-Rabbit in 8 Mile.

She was objectively so damn hot with the kind of body you would brag about in locker rooms. That was supposed to be his focal point, but he was having trouble focusing on her words, let alone being turned on. All he could think about was how this conversation couldn’t be any more boring, and he had endured a finance lecture once. Nothing was ever going to come out of bedding this girl tonight. Even her perfume smelled like the looming regret of the morning after. 

There had to be something fundamentally wrong with him at this point.

Uh oh, do something. She’s getting closer, DO SOMETHING!

“OKAY, I’m gonna go,” he jumped to his feet, giving no fucks about providing a reasonable explanation, and almost booked it towards the front door.

“Chris?” Jisung called out after him with slight concern, but Chris had half a mind to set fire to this place. Everything, everyone, all of it was suddenly too much.

“Later, bro.”

Only when he reached the safe bubble of his home did his heartbeat slow down to a normal rhythm, letting him heave a half-relieved half-disappointed sigh behind that closed door. Shower was the least of his priorities at that moment—he went straight to his room, got naked, threw himself to his bed, and started scrolling through his phone to find something to jerk off and sleep.

Art, art, gif, gif, art, text post, incorrect quote, gif, gif, art…

Then…

bassboostedjiscake reblogged: Closeted sluts living under a rock, check out my girl. Creaming guaranteed 🍦

Jisung was the horniest guy he knew, so if he dropped this on Chris’ dashboard, it must have been at least worth taking a look. He clicked on the profile thinking he was going to be greeted by Jisung’s newest favorite ‘adult content creator’ posting semi-nudes, however—

🌶️Oni @scovillescale I like pizza. And creating sexy universes.

Sexy… universes? 

The fuck did that even mean?

After scrolling through a bunch of Q&A posts, he got to the cream of the crop. Technically, yes, this was an adult content creator, but not in the format he was used to. Finally noticing what he was looking at, Chris couldn’t contain the scream bubbling up in his throat.

“This is goddamn 2D porn!”

If it weren’t for the fact that he was bored and horny that one night, he probably wouldn’t have been at this exact part of the Internet, but he was, and for a man who thought animated porn was high art, this blog was a fucking gold mine. 

His worlds had collided.

Shortly after, he found himself deep into the rabbit hole of this Oni person’s body of work. Artwork being pretty was one thing, but the story? So captivating that he couldn’t put his phone down.

“BUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?!”

The last time he startled himself with his own voice was probably when he was reading one of those original choose your own adventure books. He stayed up till 3 a.m. binging one story, completely forgetting to jerk off until the very last sex scene, which depicted the female lead riding her love interest at the back of a car while choking him. The orgasm he had to that?

Fucking sublime.

Once sufficient blood started flowing to his brain again, he immediately hit follow, then fervently typed a message.

Anonymous asked: HOLY SHIT I mean it as the highest compliment possible, but I came so hard reading this. Your style is awesome and you got an instant fan. Can I be your 🍍 anon?

He didn’t even think twice before hitting Ask with the orgasm high, but all of a sudden, he remembered Jisung’s wording in that godforsaken reblog.

Closeted sluts living under a rock, check out my girl. 

My girl.

So he had just told a woman at three in the morning that he masturbated to a story she created and that he came so harfwnekjfnwfnw THAT WAS SO FUCKING INAPPROPRIATE!

Chris wanted his bed to swallow him whole, beside himself with how mortified he was. He only meant to convey his admiration, completely skipping over the fact that he wasn’t talking to one of his online bros. God, the disrespect… There was no way to edit this goddamn digital owl, let alone delete it before this turning-sex-into-art goddess saw that.

His fast-forwarded panic monologue was cut short barely a minute later. He saw the reply post on his dashboard, and it made his heart jump in his chest for no reason. 

Someone was online. At this hour.

Thank you for being so awesome! Also you got taste. Pineapple pizza slaps! #🍍 anon

The amount of relief he felt for not being called an uber creep was enough to knock him to sleep. He reread the message at least five times before putting his phone down.

“She likes pineapple pizza?” he chuckled to himself stupidly in his bed.

What a goddamn scandal.

He clasped his hands under his nape and replayed the night in his head one more time. His talk with Jisung, the encounter with the nameless girl… Some things did come naturally to some people, and Chris always found himself panicking when he tried doing the same.

Maybe he just wasn’t meant to experience some things in this life.

“Why couldn’t you be at the party tonight?” his smile trailed off into a disappointed sigh while looking at the dark screen of his phone.

⥊ TO BE CONTINUED ⥋

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

For every Minho with a pudding, there is a corresponding Chris with a pineapple. I don't make the rules.

Oh, wait, I actually do.

「© 2021-2024, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

[leona-hawthorne]

I HATE IT HERE / mattheo riddle

drabble

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: in which mattheo is an artist in a businessman’s world… inspired by ‘i hate it here’ by taylor swift!

warnings: swearing

words: 905

a/n: the tortured poets department is really just on repeat 24/7. dare i say… her saddest album? anyways, i love the headcanon that mattheo loves to draw so i thought this would be sweet <3

Overhearing crunchy footsteps walking through the fallen autumn leaves, Mattheo snaps his sketchbook shut in fear that some random person would accidentally see his innermost thoughts. He’d been drawing by the Black Lake like he usually did when the voices in his head got too loud. Normally, no one else came out here to bother him, but it appeared that today was unlucky.

“Mattheo?” Oh, it was you who was coming to bother him. Guess his day wasn’t so unlucky, after all.

Taking a seat beside him with your back resting against the large tree behind you, you turn your head to look at him and place a kiss on his cheek.

“Did you just get bored or did something happen that made you feel the need to come out here?” You ask, looking down to watch as he mindlessly intertwines your fingers with his.

“How’d you even know I was here?”

“Answer my question.”

”Fine. Both.” He answers, his voice sounding strained as if he’d had the most tiring day of his life.

“You know I’m here to listen, right?” Trying to add to the reassurance, you give his hand a little squeeze. He sighs.

“I don’t wanna burden you. You’re always listening to my fucking problems.”

You can almost physically feel your heart clench at his words. Your sweet boy could never be a burden to you and frankly, it hurt to know that he thought of himself in that way.

“Talk to me.” Your tone is soft but there's something in your voice that makes it clear you aren’t leaving until he tells you everything.

“I just had a really fucking bad day.” He admits in a dismissive voice, as if it’s no big deal, like you shouldn’t worry about him. “And when I was in Potions, some people started talking about what they’re gonna do after they graduate.”

Your brows furrow and you nod in understanding as you let that sink in. It’s never been a secret that Mattheo didn’t exactly know what he was going to do after school ended, butt you didn’t realize how badly that fact got to his head.

“That bothered you?” The answer to that question is obvious but still, there was an underlying need to ask it.

“Yes!” He snaps, his eyes burning with uncertainty and he takes a breath to calm himself before continuing. “It was all ‘I’m gonna be a Ministry worker,’ or ‘I’m gonna be an auror,’ or ‘teacher’ or whatever and I just… God, Y/n, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You wanted nothing more than to help him, but you simply couldn’t. It’s not like anything you could say would miraculously make him realize what he wants to do for the rest of his life.

“Everything is so… dull and monochromatic. I don’t want to live in a world where I work 9 to 5 everyday in a cubicle. I just…. I hate it here.”

The mere possibility of living such a tight scheduled, boring, small life suffocated him every minute of everyday. He wanted more. He wanted to see the world, he wanted to be creative, he wanted to bring his dreams to fruition. He refused to become part of the system.

He was an artist at heart. Not many people knew that about him, but you did. He was lucky enough to be born with the ability to extract inspiration from anything in his sights. You, his friends, a song, an animal, architecture. Shit, even a random stranger he meets on the street could get the gears in his beautifully intricate mind to start turning.

Mattheo couldn't go ten minutes without feeling the urge to dump his thoughts onto a blank canvas. Talking wasn’t enough, he needed to create, he needed to use his hands.

His innovation is one of his best traits, one of your favorite things about him, and the idea of him ever giving it up was truly devastating. Taking a good while to think of what to say, you fidget around with his fingers in your hand.

“There’s so much out there, Mattheo. You don't need to conform to what the world wants you to do. I mean come on, you’ve never been one to follow the rules anyway.” You tell him.

“What am I gonna do?” He murmurs as he looks out at the lake, his voice filled with a deep sense of yearning.

“I don’t know. But I’ll be here to help you figure it out. I’ll be here with you for the rest of your life, if you’ll have me.” You whisper as he leans his head on your shoulder, his curls tickling the crook of your neck.

He scoffs, tightening his grip on your hand and snuggling his head deeper into your neck. “Are you stupid? Why would that even be a question? No dreams are worth living out if you’re not in them.”

“Good. ‘Cause you’re not getting rid of me.” You lean your head onto his. “I hate it here too but… It’s not so bad when you’re with me. Can I see what you were drawing?”

With an embarrassed blush flushing his cheeks, he hands you his sketchbook and you open up to the most recent page to find an extremely detailed illustration of… you.

Quick, quick

Tell me something awful

Like you are a poet

Trapped inside the body of a finance guy…

[dancingpottedplant666]

So you know how Tf2 takes place in New Mexico? Well I’m an animal lover, and I know that there are tons of fantastic creatures there and I’m sure there are a bunch of them they would 100% be hanging around the nooks and crannies of RED team’s base. So I present to Ye:

Scenarios about our beloved mercs and an animal-loving reader handle an encounter with New Mexico’s amazing fauna. 

Part 1: Offense

Scout and the Roadrunner

It was one of those moments where it was somewhat peaceful outside the base for once(this being only a little shouting and an explosion every hour or so) and you where just sitting outside with Scout as he snacked on a bucket of chicken and talked your ear off with anything that came to his mind, all of which you pleasantly listened to. Then, a blur of brown whizzed by the both of you. You bolded up in your seat as Scout looked at you quizzically

“ey, is somethin’ wrong toots? I know my story was great n’ all but I didn’t think it was that excitin’” you put a finger to his mouth as you pointed to where you saw the blur dashed to, and after a few seconds, a small bird patters into view.

“Holy shit Scout check it out! It’s a roadrunner!” You whisper-shouted. He gave a puzzled look and then gave the small bird an eyebrow raise

“uh, huh, whazat s’posed ta mean?” He tried to look like he knew what that was but he did a very terrible job of doing so. You excitedly told him about the little bird as it scampered around the dirt,

“it’s literally a badass Scout, it nests in cacti to protect it’s babies, can run up to 26 miles per hour, and it can kill and eat snakes like it’s nothing!” He just stared at you as you in amazement as you continue on telling little facts about the tiny bird, until you both froze as it started to ease over to Scout. You told him to not freak out as he was looking a bit intimidated, until the bird plucked a chunk of chicken from his bucket and bolted.

“HEY!” Scout yelled as he jumped up and started sprinting after the roadrunner, “Unfair! that’s my chicken ya dumb bird! Not yours!” At this point you where clutching your stomach and laughing as you watched a grown ass man chase after a two foot bird around in circles in the dust.

Soldier and (somehow)the Porcupine

As per usual, Soldiers booming, patriotic, voice was rattling the hallways of the base, so to try and spare some of the other men some peace for a while, you offered to take one for the team, and offer to listen to his “speeches” outside so his voice could be “heard across America more efficiently”.

……….Speech number, what? 19? You couldn’t remember. It felt like you were listening to this man talking about everything striped and star spangled for hours. Until a rustling was heard in the distance. Soldier neck almost snapped in half as he turned to face you,

“WHAT WAS THAT MAGGOT?” You could just see his eyes under his helmet as they darted every which way. “Uh, I’m not sure, maybe it’s-” you didn’t get a chance to finish as Soldier sprinted towards the detection of the noise.

“ALRIGHT THEN! SHOW YOURSELF YOU DIRTY BLUE FRENCHIE! I KNOW YOU’RE THERE!” You ran after him and did your best to keep up, trying to tell him that this wasn’t the best idea, but by the time you caught up to him, he was crouched, face first, in a shrub.

“Soldier! what the hell are you doing! You- oh no..” out of the bush came an American porcupine, chittering and squeaking as it bolted in the opposite direction. You didn’t even want to know what happened, but you asked anyway.

“uh, Soldier? You ok?” He shot up, back facing you, “CADET, I HAVE CONCLUDED. THAT THAT WAS SOMEHOW, NOT A SPY!” He turned around, the bottom half of his face was covered in quills. You gasped and put your hand over your mouth.

“oh god, what did you do?” He very vividly describes how he was fearlessly defending the base from the intruder as you dragged him down to Medic’s office. “SO YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT WASN'T A SPY?”

“No, it was an American Porcupine”

“SO THAT PORCUPINE WAS AN AMERICAN?”

“Yes, yes he was, and he was surprised that a fellow American attacked him”

“WELL HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IF HE WASN'T A COMMUNIST PORCUPINE?”

“um,”

The conversation carried on back and forth until you reached Medic’s office, and you could say he was a tad bit shocked at Soldiers face, but then he handed you a pair of tweezers and some disinfecting ointment and pushed you two out of his office saying he was busy(most likely to do with a new supply of organs). So you spent the next two hours plucking quills from Soldier’s face as you told him more about porcupines.

“They are the largest rodents in America, and they have poor eyesight so they mostly rely on hearing and smell”

“OW, THEY DON’T SEEM VERY AMERICAN, OW, OTHER THAN THEIR OW, ADVANCED WEAPONRY, THEY OW, SEEM VERY OW, WIMPY TO ME OW,”

“yeah, they would be in more danger if they didn’t have their quills, hey, did you know the reason why it hurts so much to take out is because there’re barbed?”

When finally, all of the quills were removed, you had to forcefully smother his face in the ointment and put bandages on the nastiest cuts. Afterwards, you sent him off and flopped down on the sofa and let out a sigh. This will be quite a story for later.

Pyro and the Desert Centipede

Engineer was working in the garage one evening and you offered to come and keep Pyro company while he worked to make sure nothing was set ablaze. Safe to say you didn’t really understand how Pyro’s funny little brain worked, nor their mumbled speech, but you still treated them like the rest of the mercs and did your best to understand what they say.

You were looking up at the sky while Pyro played with matches and drew little doodles in the dust, until they got up and mumbled a few little words and crouched down near a rock. You got up to see what they were doing when they very forcefully took hold of something with their gloved hand.

“Hey buddy, what do you got there- OH HOLY FUCK” You jumped back as he turned around and held a squirming centipede right up to your face and cocked their head.

“Hudda hu?” They sounded as if they were asking what it was. They knew you liked animals, they saw you draw them and talk about them all the time, so if anyone knew what this was, it was you.

“Oh, y-you wanna know what that is?” After calming yourself down, you sat next to him.

“Mph!” They nodded a yes as the centipede did its best to try and bite the pyromaniac, but their thick gloves prevented its jaws from ever piercing skin.

“well, uh, you should probably hold it more at the back of the head then holding on to its mid-section”

They looked at their hand and repositioned it so the centipede was curling somewhat comfortably around the glove.

“yeah just like that! Good job!”

They let out a noise of pride and settled down as you bestowed upon them some epic centipede knowledge.

“These dudes are the largest centipedes in North America, and can reach up to 8 inches in the wild, they’re called centipedes because of their one hundred legs, but they actually can have less or even more than that!”

“Hrmpf Hudda Mpf!” Pyro excitedly listens to every word you say, eagerly waiting for more.

“Not many centipedes are dangerous to humans, but that one is one of the only few that can harm humans. Their venom isn’t fatal to non allergenic people, but they can certainly give you a nasty nip if provoked”

You continued info dumping as Pyro eagerly listened on until Engie decided it was probably time for them to head back inside. Pyro let out a small mumble-complaint but eventually with enough convincing, they let the centipede scuttle back under the rock where they found it.

Now, every once in a while, you and Pyro will sit out side and look for centipedes under the night sky.

Until you needed to go back inside.

“Pyro, what’s in your pocket?”

*several centipedes fall out*

***

Let me know if you guys would like a part 2!

[cigarcloud]

The Sun Hardly Touches Me

Word Count: 1200 Ao3 Link Summary: “That man is a menace to the future of humanity!” Sengoku’s voice rang out over the loud crush of battle. Crocodile smirked to himself as he pushed his way through the bodies. He had to agree, that little brat was a menace. His body melted into sand as he was hit with stray bullets. The grains slid over each other seamlessly to reform him. “He grew up with Ace! They’re like brothers!” Crocodile was only half listening as the Fleet Admiral rambled, his target was growing closer with each second. “As for his bloodline, he’s the son of Dragon the Revolutionary!”

The world stopped in its tracks. Author's Note: Poem at the beginning is an excerpt from Lamium by Louise Glück

This is how you live when you have a cold heart. As I do: in shadows, trailing over cool rock, under the great maple trees.

The sun hardly touches me.

-

Another husk hit the ground with a thud, another Marine who thought he could survive Sir Crocodile. It was a mistake many others had made. It was always their last.

“That man is a menace to the future of humanity!” Sengoku’s voice rang out over the loud crush of battle. Crocodile smirked to himself as he pushed his way through the bodies. He had to agree, that little brat was a menace. His body melted into sand as he was hit with stray bullets. The grains slid over each other seamlessly to reform him. “He grew up with Ace! They’re like brothers!” Crocodile was only half listening as the Fleet Admiral rambled, his target was growing closer with each second. “As for his bloodline, he’s the son of Dragon the Revolutionary!”

The world stopped in its tracks.

No.

“Can’t believe I let you kick the shit out me for so long, brat. No one else would get away with that, you know.” But there was no malice in his voice.

NO.

“Look at you, so handsome! Somebody gave you good genes, huh?” Arms wrapped around his back, a chin landed on his shoulder. Crocodile snorted.

“Hope you’re not referring to yourself, uggo.” Dragon laughed, peppering Crocodile with kisses, ignoring the performative disgust that followed.

“Never, Wani.”

NO!

It couldn’t be the truth. Crocodile raged on, reckless in his pursuit of Whitebeard. He could barely respond, barely think when that annoying pink bird intervened in his fight. In his head all he could hear was a mad chorus of denial, slamming against the walls of his skull.

“What did we do for the heavens to send down the sun itself?” Crocodile rolled his eyes at Dragon’s attempted poetic ramblings. “Well, at the very least you certainly didn’t get your joyful nature from your mother.”

He shouldn’t care, he had buried that loss long ago. He had given his sunshine to Dragon, and he had never let affection or love rule him since. It shouldn’t matter now, but denial could only get him so far. Deep down, a vicious instinct had already reared it’s ugly head, all gnashing teeth and throat rending screams. Crocodile was made servant to its calls.

My baby, my baby, my baby!

When the blades were ready to land on Fire Fist’s neck, he succumbed. His son had been through enough. He wouldn’t let anything else happen to him. The executioners were dead long before their bodies hit the ground beneath the scaffold.

“Crocodile!” Sengoku’s dismay was written all over his face, sounded in the sharp intonation of his voice. Crocodile couldn’t bring himself to care much. He rolled his eyes, and gave some vague excuse of not wanting Sengoku to win. A truth perhaps, but not the truth. The navy certainly didn’t need to know that Monkey D. Luffy’s bloodline was criminal on two fronts.

Doflamingo also took offense, although Crocodile knew he didn’t care if the Government had their way or not.

“Oh come on, Croc!” He heard as his head fell off of his shoulders. “You rejected me and now you’re joining Whitebeard? I’m jealous!” Crocodile scoffed once he had a mouth to do it with, his head rebuilt.

“I’m not joining anyone.” Not anyone he wanted Doflamingo to focus on, at least.

The battle raged on, his son at the center of it all. Enemy after enemy piled on, seeking to be the one who took out the Revolutionary’s son. But for as many adversaries he attracted, he lured in allies just as effectively. It was a trait Crocodile found irritating, when he had fought the kid. He had arrived in Alabasta, Princess already in tow and wrecked years of planning like it was nothing. In the wake of this revelation, he couldn’t be surprised. How could he complain of being burned when he had stood in the path of the sun?

“Mr. One!” He barked out, turning to his right hand man. “Keep an eye on Straw Hat.” An order he was thankful he gave, when only a few minutes later Mihawk raised his blade to Luffy. Daz blocked his path, but only for a moment. Thankfully a moment was all Crocodile needed to catch up with his son. He shielded Luffy from Mihawk’s second swing, his hook and Yoru screeching as they collided.

He wanted to pull Luffy away, to take him and run. He knew how foolish it would be though. The kid’s enemies and allies alike would target him, and Luffy himself would be fighting. So he swallowed his bile and watched as the battle raged on, as Luffy lost everything. As Crocodile failed to protect his baby, again.

His heart clenched as he heard his son’s wails. His baby screamed in agony, and if Sengoku’s announcement hadn’t clued him in he thought that cry would.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. I’ve got you.” Crocodile looked down at the little bundle, barely bigger than his hands. He watched in fascination as the wails died down and his baby smiled up at him. His face wasn’t one known for its calming effect, but the baby didn’t seem aware of that.

Luffy would find no comfort in him now, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting him out safe, alive. He could atone later, he could hand his son the world on a platter, but only if he made it out alive. A scream tore itself from Crocodile’s throat, his cool demeanor shattered as Akainu punched through Jinbe and into his son. He hurled himself forward, knowing nothing but the war drums of blood pounding in his ears.

He blocked Akainu’s second attack, and turned to his son. He was lost to his shock, completely unconscious. His body was limp in Jinbe’s arms. All Crocodile wanted to do was take him and cradle his baby like he hadn’t in seventeen years. Instead he whipped his hand out towards them, throwing a sandstorm with it.

“Sables!” He cried out, turning towards their retreating allies. “Somebody catch them and put them on the ship!” He turned towards Jinbe then, locking eyes with the fellow ex-Warlord. “If you want to protect something, do it right! Don’t let them have my son!” Crocodile’s eyes widened at the same time as Jinbe’s, realizing what he’d said. What he let slip in the heat of his rage. He whipped his head towards Akainu, but thank whatever Gods were watching the Admiral was dealing with several other allies. No one else had heard.

Luffy and Jinbe eventually made it to the Submarine of another new pirate. The Surgeon of Death. Not the most comforting name, but Crocodile would have to accept it. He saw Luffy’s injuries. They needed treatment right away, there was no time to find anyone else.

Once the submarine disappeared, it was time to leave. Crocodile shifted through the battlefield, locating Daz and making his escape. There was a lot of work to be done, if he wanted to gift the world to the sun.

[techs-goggles9902]

OH an idea struck and I just knew you were the person for the job 😌

I would like to request the Bad Batchs reaction to the reader blasting your favorite Ghost song on the Marauder 🤭 (also RIP to my fave ship 😮‍💨)

Head cannons or a one shot, it's up you 😊

TBB Reacts to The Band Ghost

REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR ALL LISTED FANDOMS. SEE MASTERLIST FOR DETAILS <3

Warnings: cursing, satanic music (duh), Hunter can't sing (eardrums tortured in a loving way)

Word Count: 1718

A/N: lmao I took waaaaay too long for this. I went super overboard with Hunter and well... I re-did it so I could post them all at once. No fr I went back and re-wrote the entire thing multiple times lmaoo

Hunter

You couldn’t play it too loud, of course. Hunter was here. The others had gone to the docks littering the lowest level of Pabu. It was just you, your man, and your favorite rock band. 

You began to connect your datapad to the Marauder’s control panel. Hunter was who knows where, lurking around the ship doing who knows what. As your deft fingers tapped away at the buttons, you knew exactly what song to play. 

Hunter never minded you playing your music whenever the others were out, mostly because with all the different preferences of music, no one was satisfied whenever someone’s song came on - except Omega, who liked all her brothers music, bobbing her head to whatever was playing, but that was a different story. 

The pad of your finger selects your chosen song, a gray swirl floating around the screen as the datapad loads. You sigh and tap your foot impatiently. How long has it been since this ship has experienced your glorious, powerful tunes? How long has it been since the soundwaves have echoed through the durasteel walls of the ship? Too long. 

The swirl faded away and the familiar intro to your song starts blaring through the speakers. The loud piano fills the ship and you hear Hunter shuffle around the back of the ship.  

“Damn it, Wrecker,” you mutter as you fumble with the volume switch, turning it down to a more… healthier level. You turn around to face Hunter, who’s slowly uncovering his ears and staring at you wide eyed, as you mouth sorry. 

“Was that Zenith?” He asks.

“Yeah. But I didn’t know it would be that loud, sorry,” you reply, giving him a guilty look. 

“Don’t worry about it, cyare. Turn it up a bit. I like that one.” He comes over, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a soft kiss to your temple and taps his fingers on your belly to the beat. “I saw some post on the Holonet about Zenith.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” Hunter hums, “apparently it means ‘the final end’. Do you think that means Co-”

“No. Don’t. Copia lives forever and ever,” you cut him off, shaking your head. Hunter gives a low chuckle. You reach your hand up behind you to run your fingers through his hair.

“Play it louder.” He hums the tune of the song in your ear, swaying you gently. 

“This is not the right type of dancing we should be doing to rock,” you whisper. 

“Shhhhh… ‘s the best part.” Hunter leans his head back a little and starts to sing, “Time will soon be gone… Right will turn to wrong.” He’s incredibly offkey and he knows it, curling his fingers around your wrists, moving them up and down like he’s trying to make you dance. You giggle. 

“Winds come on strong! So, help you God! Call on meee…”

“Hunter, baby, love of my life, stop. Please, you’re killing my ears.” You grin, laughing as he whispers a soft ‘no’. 

“You’re set free!” He twirls you around and dips you dramatically. You can’t help but laugh. His chocolate eyes gaze into your own as he leans down and presses a tender kiss to your lips. 

“You can’t sing for shit…” 

“I love you, too, cyare.” 

Tech

The signature rapping of drums and the low strumming of guitars filled the Marauder. You sat back in the co pilot's seat with your feet up on the console. You imitate the drums, tapping your pointer fingers in the air like you’re Pebble or Mountain on their stage. 

Tech’s somewhere on the ship, findling with whatever needs repairing. You’ve all stopped at some backwater world, the rest of the team going out to the local town for supplies. Tech’s never had an issue with your music, in fact, he lets you blast it as loud as you want when it’s just the two of you. 

I have my headphones, he’s told you, you rarely get to play your music. I do not mind. 

But, you were nice enough to never play it on full blast. Just loud enough to feel every time the drummer’s sticks hit the instrument. 

You don’t hear the footsteps behind you, not noticing Tech had come to the cockpit until he touches your shoulder. You gasp, jumping a little. Tech’s big amber eyes widen and he allows his lips to form a soft smirk. 

“Scared?” He rubs the pad of his gloved thumb over the bones in your shoulder. 

“Maybe a tad, yes.” You grin, putting your hand over his. 

“Mummy Dust, correct?” He lowers himself down into the pilot’s seat, his fingers trailing down your arm before slipping off. You nod. Tech’s head bobs slightly as the tempo quickens.

You and him both mouth ‘dust’ as Tobias Forge begins singing. 

“I was carried on a wolf’s back…” you mumble.

“To corrupt humanity…” Tech whispers back. 

“I will pummel it with opulence…”

“With corpulence and greed…”

You both sing, “In God you trust… My mummy dust…” You look up at Tech with a grin and you both - him less aggressive as you - bob your head to the beat of the drums. Tech gives you a soft smile and a low chuckle. 

The pair of you sing the next verse together, alternating between lyrics. His eyes close and he tilts his head back against the headrest as the keytar solo begins. His slender fingers twitching slightly, as if imitating the musician. You watch with a little grin.

“Having fun?”

“You know, if we were to acquire a keytar, I believe I could execute that solo to perfection. With some practice, of course.” Tech opens his eyes and looks over at you. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, hun.” 

“I am merely stating facts, cyare.”

Wrecker 

The intro to the song plays loudly out of the speakers. You bob your head to the guitars and tap your foot. You feel strong hands grab you from behind by your waist just before you could sit back down into the copilot’s seat. 

“I’ve been lookin’ so long now for you now you won’t get away from my grasp…” Wrecker sings along to the song, Phantom Of The Opera, giving your waist a gentle squeeze. You smile. 

“What’re you do-” You’re shushed as he whispers into your ear, “You put on my favorite song, mesh’la…”

His deep, rough voice carries over the ship’s speakers. He spins you around, holding your hands as he dances you through the ship. His smile never fades as he gently holds you but aggressively sings. 

“Watch your step, he’s out to get you!” He tickles your stomach, your laugh drowned out by the music. “Come what may… Don’t you stray… from the narrow way!”

He lets go of you to vigorously shred his nonexistent guitar. 

“You’re runnin’ and hiding in dreams. I’m always there… I’m the phantom of the opera, I’m the devil. I’m just out to scare!” 

“Wrecker, you couldn’t scare a baby tooka if you wanted to.” You grin.

He stops singing and dramatically gasps, “What?! This face has scared quite a few clankers in its day.” 

You roll your eyes with a joking scoff. The song ends a moment later and Wrecker leans close to you. His lower lip juts out slightly as he whispers, “I’m scary.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh.”

Crosshair

Your finger hovers over the screen of your datapad, ready to play your song. You’ve settled on Respite on the Spitalfields when someone’s long fingers curl around your ‘pad from behind you, gently pulling it away.

“That’s a good song, but if you’re going to play Ghost, play a better song,” Crosshair rasps in your ear. His deft digits scroll through your playlist. 

“Oh yeah? What’s better than Sodo’s solo?” You turn your head to look at him.

“The intro to Secular Haze. But the If You Have Ghost version.” 

You cock a brow. “Not Infestissumam?”

He scoffs, “The intro for the one in If You Have Ghost is better. Tobias’ vocals are better in Infestissumam. They have their differences.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. “Okay, Cross… Didn’t think you were paying that much attention to my songs.”

“I always pay attention to the things you like…” His slim arms loop around your waist as he pulls you in. His lips hover next to your ear. 

“Oh… Well… what other songs have you been paying attention to?”

“Mm.” Crosshair pauses for a moment. “Take It From Everyone by that one band with the members from Ghost in it…”

“Drag Talk?”

“Mmhm.” Crosshair rests his chin on the top of your head, swaying a little and taking you with him. You lean your head back against his shoulder and let out a content sigh as the guitars break through the silence of the ship as Secular Haze plays. 

Echo

It was just you and Echo on the ship, for once. The pair of you lie on his bunk, your head on his chest with his good arm around you. His prosthetic feet tap against each other as your music plays through the speakers of the ship. 

His lips brush against the top of your head as he shifts a little. What sounded like a clock ticking cuts through the quiet of the Marauder. Echo looks puzzled. 

“Never heard this one before,” he whispers. You can’t help but grin a bit. 

“Just listen…” 

In this your time of need

You're turning to the light

You had just begun to explore the dark

In the urban night

Echo nods a little. 

The world is on fire

And you are here to stay and burn with me

A funeral pyre

And we are here to revel forevermore

He presses his hollow cheek to the top of your head as the song plays. 

“I like that… Kinda sounds like a love story.”

You look up at him. “I think it means like… The absence of God or something.”

“Well, I think it has something to do with love. The world burning but you’re here to stay and burn with me? C’mon, that sounds something like love.”

“Um… sure, hon.” A small giggle escapes your lips. “Whatever you say, Echo.”

He jabs a finger lightly into your side, making you squirm.

(no dividers since I'm lazy)

Taglist:@fionajames @will-is-silly @dangraccoon @hellhound5925 @skellymom @sevdidntdie

[xoxovalrea]

Ifhy. Fugishiro m. + !fem reader

🎀Based on this audio🎀

༊*·˚ Warnings-  hatefuck-ish, rude words, alcohol use, mentions of weed, dom megumi, sub reader, smut

༊*·˚ A/n: pretend megumi is gojos bsf cus this isn’t like yuji😇☺️

༊*·˚ Sypno: You’re at a party you came for one sole reason, your crush. Just to find out he has a gf. Butt things work out in the end.

⋆·˚ ༘ * MINORS DNI🕊️ ⋆·˚ ༘ *

You liked gojo for a while. A while as in one whole college semester and two weeks during the summer. To back track you gave up on him after a party a specific party at that was of course hosted by the man himself Gojo and his dick of a best friend megumi. You three were friends you and megumi were even in the same classes but there was always this tension between you guys.

Anyways, your bestie nobara heard about a party gojo is hosting. Of course being the best friend ever she encourages you to go because “he might see how hot you are and tap that i would too honestly” you hit her and you both laughed in response. 

Fast forwarding to the night of the party, you took a nap because shit you were fucking tired from all the beach trips you did previously throughout the week. You woke up two hours prior which was NOT enough time to get ready but who the hell shows up for a party the time it starts? You hopped in the shower cleaning off all the crusties and musties you had. You of course shaved EVERYTHING just in case Nobara was right. But you had a feeling the night would not go as planned. 

There wasn’t really a theme but you knew it was a typical house party. So you threw on a black halter top and a beige mini skirt you didn’t really care about with some black shoes. You sprayed some type of sweet smelling perfume on and called nobara.

“Bitch pick up“ you looked at the ringing facetime call. She finally answered looking like she was driving. “Heyyy you look cutee girlie” she smiled at you. “Thank you pooka what the fuck should i do to my hair pony with a side part or down with a side part” she nodded and held up a 1. You quickly did your hair and headed out of your apartment complex and saw nobara’s white honda civic in front of the place. 

“Hi my fav girl” you said as you entered her car. She was putting on some sort of lipgloss. She basically had on the same thing as you but with tan pants total copy cat.  “Soo have you even been talking to satoru.” She questioned as she started heading to the party. “Yea a bit he is just so damn hard to talk to like just a few weeks ago he texted so much and now im unadded on everything” She looked at you with disappointment in her eyes knowing you’re gonna spend this whole party sulking over him. Funny thing is you definitely didn’t well for the record you didn’t cry at all but you got upset and other things but for the record you didn’t cry

See what you didn’t know is megumi liked you and hated the fact that you were wrapped all around Satoru’s finger. He hated the fact that you would stare off at him and just blank out everytime you, him, and satoru hung out. He purposely let gojo fall inlove with another girl and he would casually just let gojo ghost you. He went as far as to even setting gojo up on a date just so he couldn’t have you. He wanted you to forget about him in more than one way.

Anyways, nobara just nodded and said “maybe you should try his bestfriend he’s pretty cute” you looked at her like she was crazy “oh he HATES my fucking guts nobara. he wants me dead like the stares he gives me are the worst” you whine she shrugs her shoulders and adds  “well maybe megs wants to rearrange them you know its always the quiet ones” she giggles as you punch her shoulder and blush. You guys arrive to the party at around 9:30 ish As soon as you step into the house the thick sent of weed engulfs your lungs. Yea you smoked every 5 months but that smell could be the worst but the best at the same time.

You see nobara walk off leaving you all alone. “Well just say fuck me huh” you mutter to yourself trying to find the kitchen. You see megumi pouring himself a drink a simple one at that rum and coke. “excuse me” you say pushing past him to get a cup and some pink Whitney and a sprite . He looked you up and down rolling his eyes and scoffing “all dressed up huh“ he says taking a sip of his drink. You finish pouring your drink, “yea i guess“ you laugh “well you look like a slut” he chuckles trying to insult you “you must like sluts“ you reply as you walk off to find nobara. Feeling his eyes piercing through your skull. Yea megumi was cute but his attitude was fucking terrible. 

As you walk around you see gojo kissing a girl. You felt every bone in your body twitch with not with hate just sadness. Being honest you only liked his attention he was cute but his attention was amazing. The playful texts the calls everything it was amazing. You felt a tear run down your face and you walked upstairs towards the bathroom bumping into megumi who scowled at you.

You gained your composure after a solid 5 minutes of standing in the mirror with a burning throat feeling you couldn’t even cry. You sat on the stairs scowling and pouting at gojo and his new girlfriend. She was beautiful really really beautiful. You were snapped out of your thoughts when someone pushed you. It was megumi standing infront of you. 

“Enjoying the view?” Megumi questions as he laughs. “Go to hell” you say looking up at him pouting. “Already there” you roll your eyes as he sits down next to you. “the outfit didnt work huh?” He pouts at you as you shift over. “You know you could probably fuck anyone here but your too focused on gojos dick” you roll your eyes again trying not to curse megumi out “you wanna bet?” You say out of confidence. “Oh you’d lose in an instant”

You remember what nobara said and sigh. You grab megumi’s hoodie and straddle his lap seeing his face tint pink. “Are you fucking crazy” you roll your eyes as if he isnt getting rock hard under you right now. “Your not even pushing me off dont deny it now” you laugh looking into his low glossy eyes. “Well fuck kiss me.” He says you hesitate a little looking at gojo who obviously isnt paying any mind to yall. You kiss him gently holding his face. You feel him get harder by the second as you grind on his lap trying to get some friction.

Megumi snakes his hands around your waist. He sighs a bit as he deepens the kiss and carries you into gojos room.  He quickly opens and shuts the door pushing you against the wall kissing you harder. He hooked his hands under your bra cupping your breasts.

“You’re such a slut you know that right?” You gasp in response as he pinches your nipples. You think about how wrong this is especially fucking Gojos best friend in his room. You snap out of your thoughts from the feeling of being picked up megumi still dominating your mouth as he sits you on the bed. “Come on baby open that pretty mouth let me fuck it” he unzips his pants pulling them down along with his underwear. Revealing his pale colored dick suprizingly he was pretty big. He shoved his length in your mouth making you gag violently. He groaned loudly as he slowly thrusted in your mouth picking up pace by the second.

“So fucking wet and warm” he growled as he fucked your throat at this point he should be in your lungs because you can barely breathe with his length. “Look at me pretty girl” he said as he held your face you looked at him with cock drunk eyes and spit running down your chin. He rolled his eyes and took his cock out of your mouth. “lay down and spread your legs” he ripped your skirt off examined the wet spot on your panties and whispered a low fuck. Yes you hated megumi but fuck it felt so good to see a man look at your body like a starved animal. He kissed up and down your thighs leaving small marks, finally he slid your panties off revealing your arousal and pocketed them. He kissed the soft fleash of your pussy then licked a long stripe from your hole to your clit. You shivered at the sensation after a long minute of licking he finally sucked your clit making your hand jolt to his hair.

You arched and moaned as megumi ate you out. Really his tounge was skilled the muscle knew every spot inside and out of your body. “More” you uttered out in pleasure and he added two fingers in. You gripped his hair tightly from the sudden stretch he growled as you tightened around him. His fingers hit every spot you couldn’t its like you hated him for making you feel this good but at the same time you loved every second of it. You didn’t realize how this whole time he was watching expressions until he spoke “no come on baby look at me look at me and cum all over my face” you opened your eyes as your orgasm suddenly began building up you were seconds from coming eyes tearing up body shaking you came all over his fingers he lapped up your sweet liquids and came up to kiss your neck.

“Surprisingly you taste really fucking good” you scoffed at him he chuckled and slapped your ass harshly “Say thank you” you rolled your eyes “for what? Gojo’s probably better” you knew what you were doing you’re making him jealous it really fucked him up seriously. He looked at you like you were fucking stupid “Take it back” you laughed repeating what you said “really okay” he kissed you roughly biting your lip making it bleed breaking the kiss then flipping you into doggy style pushing your head into gojos pillows slapping your ass harshly multiple times then slapping his dick on your pussy. He slid it in quickly thrusting in giving you no time to adjust. Your eyes were rolling back head foggy not even 10 minutes in thats how good his dick was. You tried not to moan loud but megumi didn’t like it he grabbed your neck and yanked your head back to look at him. “Come on moan like the slut you are” you had no choice really you moaned his name loud enough for the whole house to hear luckily the music was up extremely loud. “Megumi fuck too big I can’t-“ he shoved your head back into the pillows he hated the word ‘can’t’ it just wasn’t in his vocabulary.

“Fuck megumi please im sorry” you dont know how many orgasms or how many positions megumi put you in but you know he wasnt even close to cumming and you guys ended up on the floor. “No no you want gojo right dont even think about moaning my name slut.” He smacked your ass harshly as he twitched inside of you as you came again. “Sorry ‘m so so sorry” you say slurred he laughs as he watches your make up run down your hot cheeks biting your shoulders again “awhh you want my cum baby? Or you want gojo to fill you up?” You shake your head no violently he doesn’t take this as an answer and slaps your ass four times making you scream. “Please you i want only you please cum in me please” you moan as he rubs your clit violently groaning and picking up his speed as be finally climaxes inside of you. “Fuckk baby you feel so fucking good” he shutters as he pulls out putting his cum back in with his fingers. Fingering you slowly to your last climax. You arch your back and cry his name as you squirt all over his fingers with a slight shake as you slowly fall asleep.

He picks you up off the floor and places you on the bed seeing you fall asleep. He laughs and puts on his clothes and dresses you carrying your sleeping body over his shoulders down the stairs letting gojo and nobara you guys are leaving. You woke up in the morning groggy and sore from last nights events, you felt a hand pull you in closer as you tried to get away. “Stop fucking moving” you rolled your eyes but obliged when the not so mysterious man behind you kissed your neck. “Megumi stop” you rolled over and kissed his lips softly as he looked at you with sleepy eyes arms still wrapped around your waist. He buried himself in your breasts and fell back asleep you did the did same resting your chin in his hair.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

      THE END💗

 This may be the last jjk fanfic I write as of rn😭 i gotta move on. Bye lovessss💗💗💗

[rdr2stories]

"The Curious Couple And Their Unruly Son" a rdr2 fanfiction.

A short rdr2 fanfiction about how the phrase "the curi couple and their unruly couple" came from.

Sean MacGuire was an annoying little shit of a teenager, his orange hair stuck out to every side no matter how much Grimshaw fought to keep it kempt, heck it was even worse than when Marston joined, however that was possible. Those two were actually scarily similar, not only in their weird hair and their rough exterior, but also in their loud mouths. John was just a bit more foul than Sean was.

Arthur disliked them both, not specifically for their loud mouth but for their attitudes. John was fifteen and had just started going on jobs with them, simple ones, the ones where Dutch and Hosea knew they would be able to save the situation even with John messing something up. Sean was thirteen and wanted nothing more than to go out on jobs with them, jobs that he no doubt would mess up and get himself killed in, or worse one of the others trying to save him.

That was the problem with many of the children that they took in, they thought just because they used to steal they were professionals at it, they weren’t and the fact they didn’t realize it themselves from the amount of bruises they had gotten proved their low intelligence. Especially Sean had gotten many beatings and Hosea was fiercely trying to teach him how to properly steal, it was not going great, which was the reason why he was being left behind in camp when Arthur, Hosea and Dutch were preparing their trip into town for some petty theft and to get an overview over the people in the area.

“Why won’t you let me go?” Sean complained as Arthur tightened his horse’s girth and gave it a scratch. “Come on! I can steal plenty fine!”

“Not without getting caught!” Arthur replied in annoyance as he snatched back the watch that Sean had fished out of his pocket quite poorly while he had saddled. “And we do not  want to draw attention to ourselves.”

“I have gotten out alright so far,” Sean huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I ain’t dead.”

“Yet,” Arthur groaned. “You ain’t dead yet, you have been damn lucky. What if it hadn’t been Hosea or Dutch in that alley? What if it had been someone else you had followed out to rob? You would have been dead then! I sure would have put a bullet in your skull.”

“You are scared I will take your place as the son, aren’t you?” Sean asked, half teasingly, half mockingly, as he leaned against the hitching pole.

Arthur raised a confused brow. “What are you even talking about?”

“Oh nothin’, just you the whole thing you, Hosea and Dutch got goin’ on.”

“What thing?” Arthur asked as he leaned against his horse.

“The curious couple and their unruly son.”

Arthur gave an unimpressed look. “We ain’t acting like that, we are just working.”

Sean shrugged. “Oh well, you know my da used to-”

“Not the da!” Arthur exclaimed at the same time as John who passed by at that moment, placing the saddle he had been holding on the hitching post next to Arthur’s.

“You don’t even know what we are talking about!” Sean said to John who whistled at his horse to come over from where it stood grazing not far out of camp.

“I don’t need to, you and your da is getting annoying real quick,” Marston replied as he put the rope halter on his horse.

“Well Marston now you are here,” Sean glanced teasingly at Arthur. “If I was to say the curious couple and their unruly son, who would I be talking about?”

“Arthur and the old men,” John replied without even looking at them. “Pretty much acts like a married couple and their adopted kid.”

Arthur sighed. “We don’t, they are my mentors just as they are yours, I have just known them longer.”

John snorted.

“How are you getting along?” Dutch asked as he came over and placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Are you ready to go? Me and Hosea have saddled the old boys up over by the tent, oh yeah, Annabelle is mad at me again so she and Bessie are sharing Hosea and hers tent so he is with me.” He patted Arthur’s shoulder again and looked over to John. “John, go with Susan into town today, will you?”

“What? No! I don’t want to! It is boring!” John groaning slightly in annoyance as Dutch merely returned his attention to Arthur, knowing to ignore the tantrums.

“Come over when you are done son, we are waiting,” Dutch gave Arthur a small chuckled before leaving the boys alone again.

“Married couple and their adopted son,” John repeated again.

“You are seeing things,” Arthur spat.

“Or maybe you are just stupid,” John stuck out his tongue at Arthur.

---

Based on a little convo I had with @wobblesthecowgirl

[buckysbabygorl]

Deal (Bucky Barnes Fic)

(Blunt Part 4, trust me the smut is VERY much on its way)

Part 3

Summary: Y/N finally shows, and Bucky feels more than rewarded for his patience

~

Being a soldier, you have to be sure.

You have to know your enemy, your team, you have to have the right skills and the right temperament for the job.

Is your aim dead on, do you know your location, did you check your six… every damn time you have to be one hundred percent sure.

Bucky knew right then, whiskey in hand with Tony at his side—he was damn sure that red was her fucking color.

That suit hugged her in all the right ways, hair down, heels high… and her eyes, staring right at him.

Bucky gulped.

“There’s my boys.” She called as she sauntered over.

“Do my eyes deceive me,” Tony purred, “or has Y/N L/N come out to play?”

“Oh I’ve come for much more than that.”

She perched herself on the barstool beside him, crossing one leg over the other.

A signature of hers, Bucky had come to notice.

“I need a whiskey, and I need this god awful music changed.”

Tony waved to the bartender, tapping his glass for a refill. Holding up two fingers, signaling for another.

Looking at Barnes in his shell shock, Tony signaled for 3.

“My, my. Awfully bossy now that you’re off the clock.” Tony said.

She rolled her eyes, “I never pegged you to be against role reversal.”

“Role play I’m all for. I’ll let you play the captain tonight if it’ll get you to come out more. Speaking of…”

He smacked Barnes on the back to wake him the hell up.

“Bucky here is playing the role of depressed loner tonight, which is really riveting for all of us.”

She chuckled, and Bucky reminded himself to kick the shit out of Tony during training tomorrow.

Her eyes landed on him again, and she smiled.

“No ‘hi’ for me?” She purred.

Dear god, what was happening?

“You finished work?” He choked.

The bartender delivered their ryes, and Y/N swiftly twisted the glass to her lips.

“Honestly?” She asked.

Bucky nodded.

She smiled, “No.”

Both men went wide eyed. She had to be joking.

“Are you shitting me?” Tony asked.

She laughed, “Don’t look so surprised. You begged me to come.”

“Of course I did. I just didn’t think you’d have the willpower to put down your damn tablet.”

Watching as she downed her glass, Bucky couldn’t muster a word. Who was this woman in front of him?

“Well… I thought about what you said. I never show, but I’m always good with the final details. I can’t control the outcome by rushing through the project. Handing something in a week before the deadline isn’t going to resolve things faster. Besides…”

She tapped her fingers on the top of the glass, and the bartender moved to make her another drink.

“I have more pressing matters here.”

Bucky couldn’t stop searching her eyes. Sam labelled her right a month back, Little Miss Wild Card.

“Like what?” Bucky asked.

Something in her eye turned. That glimpse of darkness he’d only seen when he took her glasses, standing inches apart from one another. His head was spinning.

“Well for starters, drinking Wilson under the table. Where is he?”

As if on cue, Sam came up behind her with a beer in hand.

“You wish.”

He slung an arm over her shoulder, and Bucky felt his stomach turn.

“I told you if you came, we were going hard. I’m keeping my eye on you to make you keep your promise.”

She grabbed her fresh drink and swiveled in her seat.

“I always keep my promises, you know that.”

Sam rambled on, and Bucky finished the drink given by Tony.

It’s not like it would do much, but he wouldn’t let booze go to waste.

Bucky realized too late how harsh the drink was. That was not whiskey. He looked up across the bar, seeing Thor at the other ended.

Thor raised his flask, pointing back at the soldier.

Hm, nice to know the God was looking out for him.

“Hey. Eyes on me, Sergeant.”

Bucky turned, Y/N looked at him pointedly.

He’d never get used to that. This different look she had about her, intense and daring.

She grinned cheekily, leaning in close.

Sam and Tony had begun their own challenge of drinking, yammering on about the happenings of the last party…

Somehow for a moment in this crowded room, he had her all to himself.

“What’s this I hear about you being a loner?”

Bucky pursed his lips, debating if honesty was his best policy. She’d blown off work to be here and gone so far as to admit it. He should return the favor.

“Honestly,” he leaned in closer and rested himself against her shoulder. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

Her gaze didn’t falter as she hummed, “Like I said to Wilson, I always keep my promises.”

“You didn’t.”

That phased her, tilting her head as Bucky twirled his glass.

“You told me you’d come when you got everything done, yet you wrote it off to be here.”

He ducked his lips to her ear, something he dare not try since his strong attempts a month ago. The liquor was giving him his confidence back.

“What are your pressing matters, Y/N?”

She shocked him by turning her chin towards his, lips now a fraction of a distance apart.

She lingered, and he reveled in her proximity. What he would give to sit like this with her the whole night…

“I’m not one for subtlety. And with your actions this past month, I can tell neither are you.”

He was entranced by her voice, hypnotized at its sultry slowness. His heart pounded as he tried to read her, subtle-avoidant though she said, he hadn’t been able to pull much from her before tonight. A compliment, her riding declaration and her proposition of praise had been divine deliverances in themselves. But he worried that she was playing him, getting him back for his blunt flirtations.

No. She wouldn’t do that, she was honest. Though she was harsh and sharp, she wasn’t cruel.

Still… he feared he would lose out on something he never really had.

Bucky looked down as her hand reached for his thigh, and he tried to stifle his sigh.

“I remember everything you’ve said to me, James. The praises of my character, my beauty, that you like a woman that takes charge, that you want to add me to your work out routine…”

She slid her hand up his thigh, his breath grew shaky.

“I thought it was just harmless flirting. I couldn’t tell what you really wanted.”

She rose from her stool, slowly reaching for his belt.

“I couldn’t let you know that I’ve wanted you since the first moment I laid my eyes on you.”

Now Bucky couldn’t breathe. He grew vastly aware just how many people were in the room. Sam and Tony only a few steps away, they could turn at any moment and see her wandering hands…

Jesus Christ, he wanted her now.

“But now I know. I came tonight for you, I don’t want to dance around it anymore James.”

And then she slid away.

It was like electrocution, his spine rippled and his skin was on fire. He almost rose out of his seat.

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” She waved to the bartender, another round for the four of them. “You and I, are going to socialize, dance, tell stories, drink…”

She slid their new glasses towards them.

“At midnight, I’ll say I have to wake up early and leave. You’ll leave shortly after, head to your room and you’ll find me there.”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek, hiding his lustful smirk.

Lifting her whiskey up, and urging him to do the same, she smiled.

“Then for the rest of the night, I’m yours.”

She clinked her glass against his, “We have a deal, Sergeant?”

He stopped himself from reaching out for her, instead mirroring her as she finished her glass.

“Deal.”

~

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[exilepurify]

mob pretending to get stabbed through the chest by serizawa’s umbrella was so stone cold. can we talk about that. that was such a clever, ruthless move on mob’s part. that kinda took me by surprise when I first saw it because I didn’t think it was something mob would do but damn did he do it well. he had that sad little lip tremble and eye wobble and everything. baby voice going “ow….” stopped terrorist serizawa IMMEDIATELY in his tracks. mob knew serizawa didn’t want to hurt people right away and used it to distract him in perfect form.