#i would never project onto a clock

[agent37]

they are trying to set up windows ♥️

[nullians]

One of these days I’ll actually sit down and draw those 20+ mental debuffs my family has placed on me….

[leeknow-thoughts]

୨୧ POMEGRANATE

𝝑𝝔 son of Hades!Chris x mortal!fem!reader

𝝑𝝔 cw : forced marriage, coercion, kidnapping, Hades is an asshole, Chris isn't an asshole, Soft!Dom!Chris, Sub!Reader, daddy kink, dd/lg, fingering (r. rec), innocence kink, oral (r. rec), spanking, oral fixation, inexperienced! reader, d/s dynamics, age play (not super extreme), p in v, creampie (use protection!!), pussy spanking, pet names, degrading kink, praise kink, bulge kink, lmk if I missed anything!!

𝝑𝝔 hyung line Greek gods m.list | maknae line Greek gods m.list

You were always too busy to think about having boyfriends and sex and things that were normal for women of your age. You never thought it was weird how you avoided romance, even in your teenage years. You thought romance was stupid, and it would just get in the way of your goals.

You busted your ass to graduate valedictorian in college, countless sleepless nights and study sessions is what your life consisted of for four whole years.

You reminisced about your hard work every single day that you worked this stupid low level job. You worked for the largest construction company in the country, Erebus Construction Enterprises. It was owned by one of the wealthiest families in the nation, the Bahngs, the oldest son of the family being the current CEO and his father being the head chairman of the company.

"Y/n," your coworker snaps you out of your trance, "hey, there you are, the team was going to go get drinks tonight? Do you wanna join?"

"No thanks," you reject, "I have a project I have to complete."

Your coworker gives you a look of sympathy before grabbing her coat and clocking out.

You refocus on your project as the desks next to you become empty, workers clocking out, hoping to enjoy their long weekend. Not you though, you still had to finish typing up a paper for the marketing team and make a slideshow for the next accounting meeting.

Hours passed by as you kept typing on your computer. "You know work hours ended-," a voice begins, you snap your head up to look at the man who said it, you find a man in an all black uniform staring at you, he checks his watch, "- five hours ago," the man finishes.

"I'm just finishing up a paper and a slideshow for a meeting we have next Tuesday," you explain to the man.

You take a moment to stretch, leaning back in your rolling chair. "Your name is?" the man asks.

"Y/n Y/l/n," you introduce yourself.

"Ah, just wanted to be sure," the man says.

It takes you a moment to register what he said and reply with, "wait what do you mean?"

"Follow me," he instructs.

When you don't follow after him he stops in his tracks, approaches you again and gives you a stern warning, "you should do what you're told, now come," he grabs your arm.

He drags you out into the hallway and the more you try to squirm and get away from him, the tighter his grip on your hand is. He pulls you into the elevator and presses one of the red buttons on the bottom.

You watch as the sign on the elevator changes from 'elevator' to 'hellevator'. "You might want to hold onto something," the man in black warns.

"Wha-" you begin.

Suddenly you're falling, well the elevator is falling. You scream as it plummets down. You don't know where it's taking you but your stomach sinks more every second you're falling.

Suddenly the elevator halts, and you have no time to brace yourself as you hit the floor. "Don't say I didn't warn you," the man chuckles lowly.

"What the fuck!" you scream, "what the fuck is this place!?"

"It's just hell, honey," he says the answer like it's obvious.

"What?" You look at him with shock and disbelief.

The elevator dings before the doors swing open, "don't go to the basement unless you want to meet Cerberus," the man gives a final warning before grabbing your purse and pulling out a quarter, "there that covers your fine," he hands me back my bag.

"My fine?" You question.

"You just crossed the River Styx, honey, I'm the ferryman," he says it like it's obvious.

You are given no warning before he pushes you out of the elevator, you try to run back inside, but the doors close before you can. You slide against the wall and cry.

You were in hell?

But why?

Ferryman? Cerberus? Like in Greek mythology, the spirit who helps the dead cross the River Styx, and the giant three-headed dog?

Your head fell into your hands and you tried to make sense of the whole situation. A tap on your shoulder causes you to look up, "please- just let me go home!" you plead through a sob.

The woman in front of you holds out her hand for you to take, when you don't take it she grabs your hand and pulls you with her.

She pulls you into a large dining room, the table is set with a collection of magnificent foods, there are four seats, none of them are full.

All of the windows are covered with curtains and the only light source in the room comes from the many candles scattered around the room.

The woman pulls you to one of the seats, and makes you sit down on the leather surface. "Who are you? Let me go!" you try and push the woman off you.

"Tch tch tch, silly girl," a deep voice scolds, "she's dead, she can't speak."

You look to find where the voice comes from, you find the man who spoke standing in a doorway. He wore a simple back suit with perfectly polished leather shoes and a clean haircut.

"Servant," he calls to the woman holding your wrist, "go fetch Chris and Persephone."

The woman bows to the man and lets go of your wrist before leaving out the door she brought you through. "Y/n Y/l/n," he says your name.

He crosses the space from the doorway to the seat directly in front of the one you were sat in. "Who-what are you?" you stutter.

"Well you could call me the devil, but I am not nearly as evil as him," he looks at you like you should know this like it is obvious and you should've known all along, "did the Ferryman not explain to you where you were?" he asks as he takes off the black blazer, placing it on the back of his chair.

"He just said we crossed the River Styx," you recall to the man.

"I see, still-," he pauses and opens a bottle of what looks like red wine before pouring it into one of the wine glasses, "you're a very intelligent young lady, I assume you realized where you were on your own."

"Why am I here?" I ask the man.

"Well it's a really long story, it started off with my nephew, he was given a message for me by these three old hags- that are referred to as the Fates. So being the messenger God and all, my nephew- Hermes- brought their letter to me," he takes a sip of the win before he continues, "imagine my surprise when that letter tells me the name of my eldest son's fated wife, and it turns out being your name. One of the new accounting hires," he man cocks his head.

"Y-you know me?" you mutter.

He hears you clearly though, "I know of every soul to exist, yes I know of you."

"W-why is this happening?" you inquire.

The man sighs, "like I said, you're fated to marry my oldest son," he replies.

"I-I c-can't be," you choke out, trying not to sob.

"Well unfortunately for you, you are," the man says dryly.

"S-so you're the devil?" I ask.

The man smirks, "Hades actually, Satan works in Tartarus exclusively," he explains.

"Hello darling," a woman says from the doorway.

She is utterly stunning, a small frame and dark brown eyes with red rosy cheeks and plump lips. "Hello Persephone," the man-Hades-greets.

The woman walks to your seat and wraps her arms around you, "hello y/n," she says as she hugs you tenderly.

Your words are caught in the back of your throat, "P-persephone?" you somehow are able to mumble.

"That's me, dear," she breaks away from you and walks to the other side of the table, sliding into the seat next to Hades.

"Where's Chris?" Hades asks her.

"He's in one of his moods, you know he doesn't want to do this, darling," Persephone says softly.

Hades rolls his eyes and whistles, within a millisecond a large wolf with red eyes is sitting beside your chair, "go get Chris," Hades tells the ferocious looking dog.

The dog trots away, out the doorway. "Oh, y/n dear, help yourself to the food," Persephone says gently.

You look at the meal prepared on the table in front of you. "B-but I d-don't want to have to stay here like you do," you confess to the woman.

"Don't worry about that dear, besides that whole myth is just a lie, Hades didn't force me to live down here," Persephone calmly corrected.

"Yeah, but he coerced you, I read the story, you were kidnapped by him and Zeus and they brought you down here and you accidentally ate a pomegranate and now you have to stay down here for 3 months every year," you clear your throat then continue, "and those 3 months are known as winter because your mother, Demeter, won't tend to the crops, that's why they all die."

"You haven't the slightest idea of what truly happened," Persephone says firmly, "I chose to stay with Hades on my own volition, winter happens because my mother takes a break during those three months. And Hades and his brother never kidnapped me."

Your mouth falls slightly agape as you listen to her.

"Oh," you say when she finishes talking.

"Yeah," she clears her throat.

"Dad, I told you," a voice comes from the doorway, you turn to look at the man, he was handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes, "I'm not doing this," he continues.

"You don't have a choice," Hades tells him, "now, sit."

The man reluctantly takes the seat next to you, and gives you a quick glance. "Y/n you really should eat," Persephone insists, "it's very good."

"Do you promise me that if I eat I won't be stuck here for forever," you ask her.

"You won't be stuck here forever," she promises.

You hesitantly reach across the table and grab a serving of the food, putting it on your plate and taking a small bite.

The food was delicious, the best you've had in your life. "It's good isn't it?" Persephone asks.

"The best," you compliment.

"Well, Chris, aren't you going to say anything to her?" Hades asks the man next to you.

"Yeah," he sighs, "I don't want to get married."

Hades' first slams onto the table, "Chris that is enough. You know your fate, she knows hers. There is not a choice in this matter," his voice booms.

Persephone gently rubs circles on Hades' shoulder, trying to calm him. "Y/n," she begins, "once dinner is over, you and Chris will be going back to his house, it's just a short boat ride away, if you would like anything you can write to Hephaestus," she explains.

"What about my apartment? And my job?" you ask.

"This is your home now," Hades says, rubbing his temple, "you can visit Earth anytime you like, but you must come back here before dark."

A clock on the wall chimes ten times, "well it is time for you two to go," Hades instructs Chris and you.

Chris sits up and looks at you before extending his hand for you to take. He senses your caution and smiles at you, trying to make you feel more calm.

"Go with him now, y/n, or else," Hades warns.

You hesitantly take his hand and he swiftly leads you out of the dining room and through the house, he opens the front door and steps out with you, the same man that brought you down here is standing on a boat that is floating in that is floating on a glowing surface.

Chris lifts you up onto the boat before climbing in himself. "Where to?" the ferryman asks.

"666 Hellside lane," Chris says to the man.

Chris pulls a coin out of his pocket and hands it to the man. The ferryman begins rowing the boat and you and Chris just stand in silence.

You take in the scenery, large pits of fire with people burning in them next to large pits with meadows and people running around happily. You look into the large pit of fire, seeing the pain and agony on the people's faces as they burn, you reach out for them, wanting to help but a firm grasp on your extended wrist stops you from being able to reach them. "Don't," Chris warns.

"They're suffering," you try to plead with him, pleading for people you don't even know.

"And for a good fucking reason, they lived evil lives," Chris explains.

"B-but they were still just people," you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Bad people," Chris reminds you, "the morals of your world don't always apply down here, but I know for a fact that all the souls in that burning pit deserve to be down there, burning."

You blink at the man, "is that where I'll go? Will you send me there?"

"Never," he replies immediately, "in no reality would I make you suffer like them."

"W-would your father s-send me there?" you ask with teary eyes at the thought.

Chris gently cups your face, "don't worry about my father, I won't let him hurt you."

You nod and Chris wipes a tear that had fallen with his thumb.

The boat stopped and Chris got off first, he lifted you up and helped you down off the boat afterwards. You looked up at the large house in front of you. Ornate and beautiful on the outside. Chris opened the front door and you walked in before he closed the door behind the two of you.

The living room was magnificent, high ceilings with stained glass windows, a large couch in the middle and a fireplace across from it. "Woah," you gawk.

After a moment of silence, Chris speaks, "your room is down there," he points down the hallway with one door at the end.

"My room?" you ask.

"Yeah," he says softly, "all yours," he smiles.

"B-but what about you?" you ask.

"My room is upstairs, it's the first room on the right," he informs.

"Oh," you say.

"Yeah, just make yourself comfortable and if there's anything you need, I'll just be in my room or in my office," he explains softly.

He starts to walk away, "wait!" you call to him, he turns around and looks at you, "my cats, Cookie a-and Oreo- they're still on Earth, I-I don't want them to be lonely or g-go hungry," you tell him.

"I'll go get them for you," he instantly replies.

"They can come down here?" you ask enthusiastically.

Chris walks to you and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, "of course they can, I do have a dog though, but she's really friendly, her name is Berry, she's probably playing outside," he tells you, "I'll go and get your cats and bring them back here."

"O-okay, t-thank you," you thank him.

He smiles softly and leaves out the front door. You stand there for a moment, not knowing what to do with yourself, before you decide to check out your bedroom.

You open the door and look around, it looked similar to your bedroom back on Earth. You opened one of the doors in the room to see a huge walk in closet. Multiple floors tall and full of any types of clothes you could think of.

You open another door to see a whole on-suite bathroom. With a huge shower and a jacuzzi tub.

You walk back into the closet, looking for a pair of pajamas. You find a key pad with many buttons, you cautiously press the button that says 'sleepwear' and the closet starts to move around.

The many racks of clothing shuffle around for a moment before the sliding doors open, revealing all kinds of pajamas.

You opt for a blue matching silk pajama set, you slip the clothes on and decide to look around the house that was now yours. You opened one of the large doors that lead to a large grassy area that was fenced in with a metal gate. You take a seat on the back porch, close your eyes, and try to wrap your mind around the day you had.

You hear a dog bark beside you and you open your eyes to see a dog with three heads staring at you. Your first reaction is to scream, not used to the supernatural sight. But one of the dog's heads starts licking your face, making you burst into a fit of laughter.

You sit up and look at the small dog, you look at the large collar around it's neck and read the name. "Berry," you say the dog's name out loud.

The dog perks up and jumps into your lap, "hi, Berry," you coo, "aren't you gorgeous," you say as you pet her.

You sit with the three-headed dog until you hear the back door open, Chris leaning against the door frame carrying your two cats, one in each hand.

Berry rushes to Chris' side, her tail wagging a mile a minute.

You sit up and walk to Chris, gently taking your cat, Oreo, from his arms, give Oreo a kiss and gently pet him. "Thank you," you thank Chris again.

"Don't mention it," he smiles.

You step inside and Chris closes the door behind the two of you. You put Oreo down on the ground and Berry begins sniffing the black and white cat. You turn back to Chris and he hands you your Tortoiseshell cat, Cookie.

You kiss Cookie before you put her on the ground, Berry sniffing her now as well. "You really aren't like your dad," you figure, talking about Chris.

"I hope I'm not," he chuckles lowly, he brushes a strand of hair out of your face, "you should get some sleep," he suggests, "we can talk more in the morning okay?"

He walks you to your room, "wake me up if you ever need anything," he says softly.

You step into your room and Chris closes the door. You hear his footsteps as he walks away from the door.

You did try to sleep, you really did. But you found yourself tossing and turning on the large bed rather than sleeping.

You contemplate waking Chris up for a good ten minutes before deciding you would just watch something on the TV in the living room.

You sat up and walked into the living room, you sat on the large, black, leather couch and grabbed the remote, turning on the TV.

You flipped through channels until you settled on a random channel in a random language you couldn't understand.

"Y/n?" you hear Chris' voice.

You watch the man as he walks down a pair of stairs, rubbing his eyes, wearing nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants and a pair of red slippers.

"What're you doing up?" he asks softly.

"C-couldn't sleep," you explain quietly.

"O-oh," he hums, walking back up to his bedroom.

Eventually you passed out on the couch, waking up from a nightmare. It took you a moment to fully realize where you were, but you ruled out the fact that you just had a bad dream when you looked around the ornate living room, remembering all that had happened.

A knock on the door made you snap your head up. You hesitantly walk to the door, opening it to reveal Persephone along with a group of servants. "Oh, hello honey!" she muses before stepping into the house as if it was hers.

"W-what are you doing here?" you ask in the most polite way you can.

"Well it's your wedding day!" she announces like it's obvious.

"M-my wh-what?"

"Oh dear, don't play dumb! C'mon we need to get you fitted for a dress," she hums.

She drags you by your arm to your room before practically pulling your clothes off, only leaving you in your underwear. You try to cover yourself but she is swatting your hands away as the servants begin taking your measurements with measuring tapes. "Do you like the color black?" Persephone asks as a servant shows her different fabrics and colors.

"I-I-it's okay?"

"And do you like glitter?"

"N-not really."

"Dear," she scolds, "you should be serious about this, we have the Christian Dior working on this."

"Christian Dior?"

"Yes the owner and founder of Dior-"

"I know who Christian Dior is b-but why?"

"Well your wedding should be perfect!" she exclaims.

"Mom," Chris' voice comes from the door to your room.

"You're not supposed to see each other before the ceremony!" Persephone whines.

"I understand you're excited, but go easy on y/n m'kay? She is scared," he points out and looks at you.

"Oh, c'mon it's just marriage!"

"Mom," he says more firmly, "it's marriage."

"Oh fine," Persephone huffs, "y/n what are your favorite flowers by the way? My brother is going to make us some!"

"Felix is coming?" Chris asks.

"All of Olympus is coming!" Persephone cackles.

"Olympus!" you shriek, "I'm going to pass out!"

Chris lunges forward to support you and keep you standing while his mother and her servants are whispering and talking amongst themselves. "Here, let's get you in some clothes," Chris figures.

If you were naive you would think he's being kind, but honestly you don't know if you can afford to be naive at the moment.

Chris walks to the closet and grabs a pair of clothes and hands them to you. You swiftly pull them on before Persephone is grabbing your hand and pulling you into a seat. One of her servants pulling out a makeup bag and slapping a primer on your skin. "Chris!" An unfamiliar voice calls.

You turn your head to see a blonde boy with freckles standing in the doorway calling to your soon to be husband. "Felix, hey man," Chris says, embracing the man-Felix.

"Oh hey, you must be y/n! Nice to meet you! I'm Demeter's son! Gosh it is scorching down here!" he exclaims and fans himself with his hand.

"Well it's almost like it's hell," you retort.

"Well yeah, dear Zeus, Persephone how can you love someone so much to stay down here for as long as you do!" he exclaims.

"Well you know how much I love Hades," she chuckles to her brother.

You sit still as the servants begin styling your hair and applying your makeup.

"Is Zeus coming?" Chris asks.

"No! Silly! He is far too busy! But he's sending Hyunjin on his behalf," Persephone announces.

"Persephone, the dress is done!" one of the servants says.

"Oh lovely! Y/n look at this! Isn't it stunning!" Persephone calls and shows you the large black ballgown dress.

"Y-yeah, beautiful," you shrug as you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

"It's so beautiful she's crying isn't that sweet!" Persephone proclaims.

You feel so claustrophobic in the room, as you try to bite down your tears. "Mom," Chris starts, "she is crying because she doesn't want to do this."

"Christopher!" Persephone shouts, "she will deal with it! As will you! This is destiny!"

"You don't have to like your destiny!" Chris' voice booms.

You can't help but mentally compare him to his father, they yell the same way. Chris has a better temper but they both can hate the same way.

"Ok," Felix breaks the tension, "Seph why don't you go and get ready I'll watch over them."

Your eyes go wide as you watch Persephone leave the room in a huff. "Sorry you had to hear that y/n," Felix apologizes for his sister and his nephew, "they both have quite a temper."

You turn your head back and wait until the servants finished your makeup and hair.

Chris and Felix eventually left when it was time for you to put on the wedding dress, saying they'd meet you at the venue.

You slipped on the dress in silence and one of the servants tightened the corset on the back.

The boat ride to the venue was silent, only thanking the ferryman and handing him a silver coin when he dropped you off.

"Hi my dear," an old woman greets you at the gate of the garden you were dropped off at, "my name is Clotho, I'm one of the Fates, my sisters are busy today but they give you and Chris their blessing!"

"Please tell Lachesis to cut my time short, I don't want to do this," you plead to the old woman.

"Dear," she coughs, "you'll be immortal once you marry him, it's not like she can do anything."

"I would rather die," you comment.

"I shouldn't tell you your fate, but you do fall in love with him, may as well let it happen," she whispers to you.

Your eyes widen in shock and she holds your hand walking you down the aisle in the garden.

A piano playing a tune in the background as you walk down the aisle with the woman.

Chris is waiting at the end of the aisle and you see Hades standing at the center.

You cry as you stand up there and Hades pronounces you married. Not wanting this to be your fate.

"You may kiss the bride," Hades instructs Chris.

Chris rolls his eyes before gently cupping your face and bringing you in for a kiss that lasts only a second.

You sob on the boat ride back to your house, mascara running down your face. You run to your bedroom and cry into the pillows. Crying until you feel like throwing up.

You had been living in the same house as Chris for a few days, and you finally were able to sleep in your bed at night.

A knock on your door is what woke you up, you sat up and rubbed your eyes while the door creaked open, "y/n," Chris calls out to you.

"Mhm," you grunt sleepily.

"Hey, I got you a present," he explains.

You rise up out of bed and let Chris lead you to where the present is. He has you sit down on the couch and close your eyes and you feel a weight being put on your extended hands. "Okay, you can open your eyes now," Chris says.

You slowly open your eyes and look at the box in your hands, you look up at him before you open the pretty black box. You look at the ticket stubs for a moment, and read the text. Concert tickets, for your favorite band.

"D'you like them? I don't want this marriage as much as you, but I figured a wedding gift wouldn't hurt that much?" Chris asks.

"Like them? Chris-" the words are caught in your throat, "I love them," you smile.

"I-I got you two, that way you can go with one of your friends on earth," he grins.

"I- thank you," you thank him, you throw your arms around him in a warm embrace.

"Of course, y/n, anything to make you feel a bit better," he says dutifully.

Chris showed you over and over again that he would give you anything and everything your heart would desire.

From making a whole art studio in your shared house because you once mentioned that you liked painting during a dinner conversation.

To giving you a phone so you could talk to your friends who were on Earth.

There was no doubt, he cared for you. And you couldn't help but care for him as well.

"Guess who," you peek your head into Chris' office.

He was sitting at his desk with papers laid out over the surface.

"Hey, sweet girl," he hums when he sees you.

He motions you over and you obey, he taps his thigh for you to sit on, and you do. His arm rests on your waist, and you watch as he works. "What'cha doin?" you ask him.

"Finishing up some paperwork for the company," he explains, "did you need anything, honey?" he asks.

You shake your head, "no, jus' wanted to be close to you," you confess.

Chris cocks a brow, "yeah?" he coos gently.

You nod, "yeah, I like being around you."

A smile breaks out onto his face and he turns his full attention to you. "I like being around you too," he confesses.

Later that night you find yourself in your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

You felt hot all over as you thought about Chris, how caring he was, how handsome he was, how dominant he was.

You hadn't felt that way before, what were you supposed to do? That was the first night you felt the intense wanting for Chris. And it certainly wasn't your last.

Every night for the next week you'd think of Chris, you would feel tingly all over, to the point where it drove you crazy. You didn't know what to do with this feeling that was coming from your cunt.

You knock on the door to Chris' bedroom, you hear footsteps before Chris opens up the door, "honey, hey what's going on?" he asks when he sees the tears in your eyes, concern laced in his voice.

"I feel weird," you sniffle.

"Oh, sweet girl," he coos, he gently pulls you into his room and pulls you onto his chest, "tell me what's going on?" he requests.

"I just keep feeling weird, a-and I d-dunno what t'do," you confess.

"Feel weird where?" he inquires.

Your face goes red and you whisper to him, "my- y'know."

He looks at you for a moment before breaking out into a fit of laughter, you swat at him, "I'm being serious!" you whine.

"You haven't like-" he pauses, "masturbated before?"

You shake your head no, and watch as his face breaks out into a look of realization. You tuck your head into his chest as blush creeps onto your face. "Hey, shh, it's okay honey, don't be embarrassed," Chan reassures.

He tilts your chin up so you're looking at him, "whatever you want, I'll give it to you," he hums, his thumb gently caressing your chin.

"Daddy," the words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself.

Chris groans before pulling you in for a gentle kiss, he quickly pulls away before looking in your eyes again. He only looks at you momentarily before pulling you back in for another, more heated, kiss.

That night Chris watched as you touched yourself, gently talking you through the new feelings and watching as you writhed around on his bed from the pleasure.

You heard the front door open and sprung up from your place on the couch to see Chris walk inside. He had just gotten back from work. He looked exhausted from the day's activities. "Chri-" you begin but he cuts you off by crossing the space between the two of you and slamming his lips onto yours.

"Daddy-" you mumble against his lips.

"Hmm?" Chris hums.

"Wanna help you relax," you mutter.

"Just let me kiss you honey," he insists, "let me give you special kisses."

"Special kisses?"

"Yeah," he hums, he pulls your pants down without warning.

Staring at your cunt, he gently kisses your mound over your panties. "I'm the only one who can kiss you here, you understand?" he growls.

"Yes," you whine.

Chris pulls your panties to the side before placing a tender kiss on your clit.

You moan and your fingers run through his hair, "that's a good girl," Chris hums.

You feel two of his fingers press into your entrance and you squirm around due to the unfamiliar sensation. "Daddy," you whine.

Chris' plump lips keep sucking on your clit while one of his fingers pistons in and out of your cunt. One finger turns into two, two into three, until you're gushing all over his face without a chance to warn him.

"That's it," he coos, "such a sweet little pussy," he groans, fingering you through your orgasm.

He places a kiss above your mound before slapping your pussy. You jolt at the contact and watch as Chris sits up and pulls his pants down.

"Here you go honey, gonna give you a treat for being a good little girl for me," he muses.

He strokes his fat cock in front of you before lining it up at your soaking entrance. "Daddy-" you whine.

"Daddy's here, don't worry babydoll," he hums as he pushes into you.

You squirm around as you feel more and more of his cock enter you. "That's it, take it like the slut that you are," Chris spits.

The only thing leaving your mouth at this point is broken cries of Chris' title. Chris sets a menacingly fast pace, pounding into you with your legs thrown over his shoulders.

You feel as his hands run down your stomach, stopping on your lower tummy, "I can fucking feel myself inside you," Chris comments.

You move your hand down and feel the area where his cock is bulging in and out of you. "Oh my god!" you scream as you cum around him.

"That's it, atta girl," he praises, "let me fill you up, let daddy pump a baby into his sweet little girl."

"Yes," you whine, "f-fuck a baby into me w-wan' you t'fill me up please!" you beg.

Chris' movements become sporadic and you start to feel his hot cum seeping into you. He keeps fucking into you as he cums, making sure you take each last drop of his seed.

Honestly, hell wasn't even hotter than Christopher Bahng.

[moonstruckme]

May I pleaseeee request poly!marauders x reader (gn or fem, up to you) where r and siri come home at like, 4 am from a rave (or clubing), and they are in makeup and have glitter all over them, and their exhausted and only slightly tipsy (from alchohol or drugs, up to whatever you think would be more fun to write) so they try to get cleaned up without waking up james or remus but ultimately fail?

I totally understand if you don't wanna write it 🫶

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: mention of alcohol

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

When Remus wakes, he doesn’t at first know why. James is asleep next to him, snuffling softly, his cheek smushed into the pillow and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. Remus’ fingers are woven loosely in the curls by his forehead. 

Then there’s a muffled thump from down the hall, followed by some hushed cursing, and he remembers. 

“They definitely moved the couch closer to the door to fuck with us.” Then, a moment later: “I am being quiet. Doll, you’re projecting.” 

Get a drop of alcohol in Sirius, and he becomes the worst whisperer in the world. 

Remus can hear your attempts at shushing your boyfriend as he slips out of bed. James is dead to the world, but he stretches out an arm as Remus’ fingers unwind from his hair as though feeling for where he’s gone. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, he’s gladder than ever that he and James had begged off this particular excursion. It’s past five. 

He goes toward the light they left on for you by the door, but you and Sirius have already migrated into the kitchen. Remus props himself up on the doorframe, wrapping his arms around his middle, and allows himself to just watch the two of you for a minute. 

“Water first,” you’re saying, voice hushed far more effectively than Sirius’. You grab two glasses with extreme care from the cabinet, setting them down slowly so as not to make any noise. 

“I think this makeup is going to be crusted onto me forever,” Sirius whines. “I’ll never be able to get it all off.” 

“I don’t know if I have the energy to try,” you admit. 

You do both have an awful lot of glitter on you. What was intentional and precise when you left that evening has now traveled down onto your cheeks, leaving you lustrous and disheveled-looking. When Sirius closes his eyes, tipping his head back as he leans against the countertop, the black makeup around his eyes makes them look like glittering chasms. Remus notes that your shoulder shimmers with a similar color, like he’d laid his head on it. 

You pass Sirius a glass and hoist yourself up onto the counter, the both of you falling quiet while you drink your water. You sigh at the end of it. 

Sirius hums in response, a tired sort of smile lifting his lips. He leans his head against the side of your arm and lets his eyes fall closed again. 

“Did you have fun?” he asks, softer now than he has been since you came inside. 

“Mhm.” You set your empty glass down, using that hand to comb strands of hair away from Sirius’ face. 

Remus' heart nearly turns to mush as he watches the two of you, each clearly exhausted and yet still trying to take care of the other. You, you’ve always been open with your tenderness, but Sirius has taken years to get to where he is now. It still surprises Remus sometimes to see it, his boyfriend’s caring out from under the shroud of insouciance and joking. 

“I have an idea,” you say. Your tone is warm and lulling, not unlike your boyfriend’s. “We could take the spicy crisps into the living room, and lay on the couch to eat them.” 

Eyes still closed, Sirius smiles. “What about bed?”

“Rem won’t let us eat them in the bed.” 

Remus suppresses a chuckle. 

“I know, sweetness. I thought you were tired.” 

You sigh, long and heavy. “I am. I think I’m so tired I almost don’t care if I go to sleep. I might die if I don’t have a spicy crisp, though.” 

Sirius seems to be contemplating this when James comes up behind Remus. His hair is askew and glasses falling down the bridge of his nose, and he has the glazed-over look of someone who themselves is not quite sure if they’re awake or dreaming. 

“How wasted are they?” he asks, voice weighted with drowsiness. 

“Not very,” Remus murmurs. 

That’s when Sirius notices them. He picks his head up, nudging your knee with his elbow so you look over. 

“Oh.” You shrink a bit, expression pinching. “Sorry.” 

You so thoroughly look it that Remus can’t even feign upset. “Come to bed,” he says fondly. 

Neither of you move but Sirius opens his arms, beseeching Remus to come to him. Remus, too tired to pretend at being any less in love than he is, goes. 

“I thought you’d be in earlier,” he says into Sirius’ hair. It smells like sweat and a little bit like smoke. 

“The cabs were busier than we expected,” Sirius replies, voice even sleepier now that his face is in Remus’ neck. “We walked a while and then caught a bus once they started running.” 

Remus makes a disgruntled sound, but it’s James who says, “You should’ve called.” His voice sounds muffled, and Remus looks over to find it’s buried in your chest. You’re smiling faintly with your face turned down into his curly mop, your hands on the back of his head and his holding your thighs. “We would’ve come and got you.” 

“I wanted to,” Sirius defends himself, removing his face from Remus’ neck to cut you a teasing look. “She wouldn’t let me.” 

James lifts his head to look up at you. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you say, voice soft as though still trying to accommodate the sleep he really should be getting. “You both have work in the morning.” 

James groans at the reminder, hiding his face in your chest again. Remus sets a hand on top of his head, scratching his scalp consolingly. 

“You should always call,” he tells you, just for the record, but really he’s in no mood to argue. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, slipping off the counter. 

James wraps his arms around your shoulders, forcing the both of you to walk with small, plodding footsteps, and Sirius also refuses to be out of Remus’ hold, clinging to his arm as you all start down the hallway. The bed is no sooner in sight that you let out a low whine. 

Sirius echoes it when you say, “We still have to take off our makeup.”

“What if,” James suggests, “you sleep now, and when Remus and I get up in an hour we can take it off for you while you stay in bed?” 

James hardly has time to let you go before Sirius is hanging off him, almost teary with gratitude. “God, I love you. That’s the best idea I ever heard.” 

[theghostkingisdead]

when he's really tired, danny sometimes slips up and starts talking in ghost speak. the only ones who can understand him when he gets like this are tucker, sam, and jazz (because they're Liminal). of course, none of them realize this until danny slips up in public

Tucker hated English. The whole language was a confusing, contradictory mess. Honestly, the world would be a much better place if everyone just stopped talking and writing and only communicated using Timerio, preferably with several screens between them.

The blank word document stared back at him, mockingly. The sounds of his classmates typing away at their own projects – typing, normally his favorite sound in the world, how dare the project turn it against him! – filled the room. The clock in the corner of his screen told him they had twenty more minutes left in class; twenty more minutes until lunch, where he could at least enlist Sam’s help.

He wished she shared this period with him and Danny, but she was taking AP Lit this year. Tucker glanced over at his other best friend. His best friend, who was staring off into space, not even bothering to pretend to be focusing on the assignment.

Glancing up to make sure Mr. Lancer wasn’t looking, he risked asking, “Hey Danny, what are the odds of a ghost attack happening in the next thirty-five seconds or so?”

Danny barely moved, but Tucker watched him squint, like he was trying to read something far off and blurry.

“Pretty unlikely. Unless we’re still counting blob ghosts as threats.”

Somewhere in the background, the sound of typing stopped.

Tucker hummed, “yeah, that’s about what I figured.” That was ghosts for you, never there when you needed them, never gone when you didn’t. “What if you, ya know,” Tucker raised his eyebrows repeatedly, staring intently at his best friend.

“no.”

“Aw, come on!”

Danny rolled his eyes, leaning back into his chair. “Dude, if I attacked the school just to get out of the last quarter of English, I’d never hear the end of it from Sam and Jazz.”

Tucker opened his mouth, about to present the very reasonable argument that what Sam and Jazz didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, when he felt someone tap his shoulder. Turning around in his seat, he met the wide, terrified eyes of Star. She was glancing between Tucker and Danny, face pale.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but uh…” Her voice trailed off, and in the pause Tucker was suddenly aware of how quiet the room had become.

Glancing around, he saw that everyone – including Lancer – was staring at him and Danny with varying levels of confusion and fear. Tucker considered himself to be pretty smart in most areas, maybe even a genius when it came to tech. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d missed something important.

Danny, the absolute dick, had slumped forward onto his desk. He was out cold. Dead to the world, and definitely not available for backup.

Kwan cleared his throat, and Tucker saw that his face was ashen.

“What are you two fucking talking about?”

[halemerry]

I’m doing it. I’m breaking down the Scene. You know the one. I've been tearing it apart for a week straight now in discord and figured I should leave my observations here. So, uh, yeah, this one's a big one so buckle up folks!

I want to start with the build up because I can never leave well enough alone and because I think the framing we have coming into this sequence is important. We start with the camera on Mr. Acts of Service himself. Crowley, after banishing Muriel, starts cleaning up the bookshop. The music playing is the soft slow rendition of the opening theme. He is returning this space to the status quo, resetting back to normal, fully intending to do this for Aziraphale before dragging him out to the Ritz, falling back on their typical pattern of going out together for food and drink.

Now in a moment he's going to get interrupted by Nina and Maggie but before we get there I want to take a second to draw attention to the area of the bookshop that Crowley will be operating in for the bulk of this. This space is one we very frequently see Aziraphale in. It's his desk behind the till - a spot linked intrinsically to him, even down to the fact that it's located on the east side of the shop. The windows are throwing beams of light onto Aziraphale's chair and onto the same spot Crowley will stand during The Scene. This lighting choice will not change from now until our last shots in the bookshop and the way the blocking plays around these sunbeams is very aware (as Good Omens nearly always is) of exactly where they will land.

Nina and Maggie enter the scene to have a chat about boundaries and communication. Maggie, his own mirror, tells him flat out that he can't play with their lives like that. Maggie and Nina then both tell him that he and Aziraphale need to talk. And I don’t think they're wrong, exactly, but I do think that Aziraphale and Crowley are actually a lot better at communicating in general than they are in these following high stakes scenes. But that's some meta for later - for now I want to just focus on the particular way Crowley's been primed for the conversation he and Az are about to have. Nina in particular does something really interesting. She does exactly what we as the audience did when we first saw Nina and Maggie: she mistakenly projects herself onto Crowley. She says he has trust issues because she does and in the process accidentally frames the core of their problem as Crowley needing to allow himself to trust Aziraphale, a thing that he actively already does and has done for quite some time and has been shown to us several times throughout the two seasons.

Now the build up we get for Aziraphale going into this conversation is very small. By which I mean practically non-existent. We start at the end of his conversation with the Metatron who tells him to go tell his friend the good news - which notably does not imply that the news is something that would require Crowley to make a choice - and sends Aziraphale on his way. Now the most crucial thing in this sequence, to me, is the expressions Aziraphale makes when he thinks the Metatron isn't looking at him. While polite and smiley when engaged with him, Az's expression falls as soon as he doesn't have eyes on him. Something is wrong and Aziraphale knows it.

Aziraphale enters the shop. The doorway is dark and shadowy and he hasn't composed himself yet - though he does give Nina and Maggie a little smile as they leave. Then, as soon as they're not looking at him, but before he approaches Crowley, the tension is back.

He hesitates, then smiles and approaches Crowley. Crowley, planted dead center in that beam of light from earlier, takes off his glasses and promptly starts nervously rambling. The music cuts off here entirely, giving us nothing to focus on but the noises coming from our lead actors, the background noise from the street, and the ticking of the clock in the background. Aziraphale puts up his hands like he's going to interrupt then lowers them again as Crowley keeps talking, his face shifting into this helpless sort of smitten look.

Now look at the light and how it hits the bookshelves behind Crowley as he tries to get his confession going. It's in the shape of a wing. Keep an eye on that - when the camera chooses to show us this one wing of light is important.

Aziraphale then interrupts and there are two things I want to draw attention to here as Aziraphale fumbles for words. First of all is the fact that he glances in the direction of the door (and the Metatron) at least three times as he's struggling to speak.

Secondly, I want to draw attention to the words Az actually says here. He first echoes the Metatron's earlier statement about good news. He then does not roll into the news itself and instead glances at the door and says the Metatron. He starts rambling about the Metatron to a very confused looking Crowley and evetually talks his way into that the Metatron said something. He then hits a wall again, scrambling to find words and instead of explaining the context of what the Metatron says he lands on Gabriel. His brain latches onto someone obviously on the forefront of both their minds and something vaguely relevant to the news he's about to share. He rambles more about Gabriel's job, glancing once again at the door in the middle of this, still avoiding getting to the actual point or perhaps even synthesizing said point as he goes.

We then cut to what is framed as a flashback. I think it is very notable we only see this as Az is telling it to us. In other words that this is not us witnessing an event happening but us witnessing what Aziraphale is telling Crowley. This sequence is the single scene where the Metatron calls Crowley by name despite actively avoiding it in any real time continuity sequences. He uses it twice here which I think also is the strongest thread in here that tells us that we are seeing what Crowley is being told not necessarily what actually happened.

The instant the idea of restoring Crowley comes up the wing of light behind Crowley loses visibility. Crowley's speechless for a moment so Aziraphale fills the silence, already looking like he wants to cry as he talks about the old days. (I also can't help but to notice that the lights behind Az in this shot look like eyes.) Crowley finally speaks and circles around the beam of light he's been standing in like an object seeking to re-establish a source of gravity. The music cuts back in here with tense drawn out notes.

Crowley talks about how Hell offered him his place back and he turned them down. Aziraphale in turn presses on ideas that we know he doesn't really believe. It's a echo of the bandstand and uses a lot of the same language of that fight - another fight we know features Aziraphale saying things he knows aren't true. By now, we have seen him multiple times this season express he does not want to go back and make it abundantly clear that the side they have made for themselves is important to him. We see him actively calling angels bad and incompetent, contrary to everything he's telling Crowley here. We see him be the one to repetitively remind Crowley that they are on their side and be the one that always draws attention to that first. Yet here he says Heaven is the side of light to Crowley - who by the way is literally framed in light. The frame is telling us outright that Crowley is already Good as he is, while Az's expressions are telling us he knows Heaven isn't.

Aziraphale can't tell him that he did not turn down the job and Crowley does another orbit. The music cuts again. This time, he stops with his back to Az, tilts his head upward and decides to ruin me by invoking God.

Here he is, hearing these awful things that he was sure they had moved on from, hearing these things he has tried for so long and so hard to help them both unlearn. But these sorts of habits and lessons are insidious and he knows that and he himself is even a victim of that himself. I mean, don't get me wrong, he recognizes this is weird, I think, but between his own self worth issues and the stress of the few days they'd had can't work out what exactly is off here. He's confused and lost and just been told, in his mind, that he is not good enough as he is - a thing he has always on some level also believed. Yet he reaches out to the parent that taught him that lesson in the first place for strength and grounds himself with that. He circles back to stand in the beam of light and, with that wing of light finally backlighting him again, he is brave and tries to be enough anyway. He bows his head downward, fully emerging the line of this body in the light and tries again. Because even now, even after that emotional blow, Crowley is an optimist who can't help but to try.

At first Aziraphale can't figure out quite what is going on here. He squints at Crowley and glances at the door again. Crowley meanwhile keeps continually glancing upward, whether at God or to hold back tears or some combination of both. In most of these shots Crowley bisects the room, creating a dark half to his left and a light half to his right.

Crowley says he relies on Aziraphale. Even here, even now when he's just hurt him. Because it is the truth. Because Aziraphale makes him feel less alone. Because Aziraphale proves to him that no matter how fucked the system is that there is still good in the world, even if he doesn't always agree with it.

It is only once there is no doubt what Crowley is doing that Aziraphale starts shaking his head in very small quick shakes. He looks panicked even as they both physically draw closer to each other. It's huge not here, not like this energy to me. Aziraphale asks Crowley to come with to help him run Heaven. This is the point where Crowley starts tearing up.

Crowley then says you can't leave this bookshop, trying to say you can't leave me. Az, nearly in tears himself, says 'oh Crowley. Nothing lasts forever' as a means to convey that the books aren't what is important here. Crowley, naturally, hears 'including us.'

Crowley looks down again, quietly agrees, and puts on his glasses, covering himself up again. He then wishes Aziraphale good luck and the music starts up again, still tense but sorrowful now. He leaves the light and heads to the door. Az can't help but to call after him. Please wait. And Crowley can't help but to listen. It's worth noting here that even as he rotates toward the north door, the light still gently hits his face. The shots in general are darker though. He's moved away from the light but it still can't help but to touch him.

"Come with me," says Aziraphale and then after a pause adds "To Heaven." Aziraphale, looking heartbroken, starts one of two 'I' statements he will struggle around in the next few moments. He lands on I need. Which. I want to pause there a moment because holy shit. That is not something they say out loud either. Az looks at him a moment, visibly struggling before he says his dialogue about Crowley not understanding his offer. Like he's said something he didn't mean to and needs to cover it up or like he can't handle the silence after such an honest statement. And on some level he's not wrong there. Because Crowley doesn't understand what Aziraphale is trying to say. But Aziraphale doesn't understand the way Crowley is reading it to course correct either.

Crowley says that he does understand and that he understands better than Aziraphale does. And he also isn't wrong either, from his perspective. Because he does understand the implications behind the offer theoretically in play here. Because he does know that the position Aziraphale is presenting him is not going to result in the outcome Aziraphale is presenting him with. There are some things you can't undo just like memories slipping through the cracks.

Az says there's nothing more to say, trying to dismiss Crowley despite having been the one to pull him to a stop moments ago. He puts on a fake polite smile for a beat but then his is jaw sets, mouth working as his eyes drop - unable to look Crowley in the eye.

Crowley tells him to listen as the music fades out and points upward. Aziraphale humors this, glancing up a few times before looking frustrated, saying he can't hear anything. The light from the window shines down in his direction without actually touching him. Crowley tells him "That's the point. No nightingales." The shot he's on here is a dark one without even any of the book shops pillars visible in it to brighten the shot.

Aziraphale looks frozen a moment here and then as Crowley calls him an idiot and says 'we could have been us' his face completely crumbles. He rapidly glances away to hide his face and Crowley moves and reaches to pull him back. They're both distraught. Az is clearly already holding back tears even before Crowley touches him. The angle of this shot frames Aziraphale in the light of the window. For the first time in this whole sequence Aziraphale is in the light, literally being physically pulled into it by Crowley.

The music swells, playing a similar theme to the one that plays as the Pillars of Creation are formed at the start of the season. They shift back and forth, the camera focusing on Aziraphale's face and hands. His hands move uncertainly, trying to reach out even as he's struggling emotionally. He is visibly shaking but he crucially does not pull away, not even a little.

His hands settle on Crowley's back, right where his wings would be, and for a brief moment gets taller, like he's allowing himself to lean into the kiss. They press together tightly, their mutual gravity sending them crashing together before they break apart. When they do Aziraphale looks devastated and his eyes move pretty much instantly to look out the window where the Metatron would be.

Crowley's glasses make him harder to read here, but he looks at Aziraphale like a man awaiting judgement in a trial he knows he's already lost. He's sad too, but as always, is waiting for Aziraphale's reaction. Because he might push continually at he boundaries of them as a unit but he has always let Aziraphale decide where to set them in stone.

Az fumbles over words here. He gets stuck on "I" here and lets it hang in the air. He then visibly thinks his words over, his expression slowly filling with resolve as he comes to some sort of conclusion. Then, like it's difficult to say, he falls back into old coded language. "I forgive you." A thing he has always said in response to things that he agrees with but cannot or should not allow himself to have.

Crowley sighs and tells him not to bother, refusing to fall into the old pattern that Aziraphale has. He is setting a boundary, for once, and even if it is one born from misunderstanding I am proud of him for being able to. He turns away and leaves. And this is where Az seems most in danger of falling apart. His lips move as Crowley goes, forming the start of a 'no' after him. He draws back from the door and turns his body away from it, physically distancing himself from anything that would feel like following Crowley. Except he can't help himself. With shaking hands he reaches up to touch his lips. He presses in, like he's trying to recreate the pressure and then his jaw works a moment and his expression sets as resolved.

The Metatron enters through the front door, which is framed in dark lighting. Aziraphale looks panicked and immediately turns his whole body away from him to hide his face while he collects himself.

He turns around after a beat and the Metatron asks 'how did he take it?' This is an odd question that only sort of half fits the fact that we are meant to believe at this point - that Aziraphale should be obtaining a yes or no from Crowley. It's not asking Crowley's choice at all. It's like the Metatron assumed a different conversation had happened or perhaps that he already knew the answer.

Aziraphale says he took it badly and the Metatron just takes a moment to direct a few casual digs at Crowley. He references him being stubborn and too curious - all the while avoiding the use of this name. At this point Az's eyes are locked out the window in the direction Crowley vanished to. The Metatron asks if he's ready to start despite originally having promised Az time to think over his answer. Aziraphale keeps glancing out the window.

For a moment he cracks, stepping away from the Metatron and back toward the east side of the bookshop. For the only time in this whole sequence he steps right into the sunbeam Crowley started in. It notably never illuminates his face as he mentions the issue of his bookshop (a statement absolutely not about the bookshop).

The Metatron explains Muriel will take care of it. Aziraphale looks back out the window with the start of an objection.

The Metatron interrupts him asking if there's anything he needs to take with him. Az's mouth takes a moment to try and form words. He steps out of the light again, starts to object, and then cuts off, eyes back to the window. Then his expression shifts again, settling in another state of resolve before he puts on his falsely polite face and follows the Metatron out.

As they leave the shop we cut back to Crowley. Crowley, who could've left to go handle his own emotions, did not leave. Instead he planted himself there, nice and noticeable. Like he wanted Aziraphale to see and know that he still has a choice. Like he needs to see Aziraphale make that choice for himself. Like he can't quite bring himself to be the one to close that last door. He stands there, framed by light, and doesn't move until the doors to the elevator to Heaven close behind Aziraphale. He then glances at Nina and Maggie and then gets in the Bentley, which starts playing the song that we now know he knows is supposed to be theirs. He turns off the music and drives away.

So there's a lot in these sequences and most of it probably won't help us figure out exactly what comes next, but there are definite signs that all is not as it's being presented to us. Whether he's actively lying or not, something is wrong that Aziraphale either can't or won't talk about frankly with Crowley. I suspect, whether it's under stress from a literal threat or because he believes that it is the safest option for them, that Aziraphale is doing all of this to protect Crowley.

There are also all sorts of signals here, especially in the lights, that gesture at the fact their togetherness is a net good. Together they are balanced and stronger for it and likely more in alignment with the Ineffable Plan. And, more importantly than that, that said togetherness is so clearly what they both want. They have loved each other longer than anything alive has ever loved anyone and none of this changes that. They both are saying that in their own ways here, even if those ways are not ones the other is particularly good at picking up and I for one cannot wait to get to see the payoff of them learning how to.

[goldenstring6123]

helloooo! i’d like to request a short fic with this glorious prompt i thought about last night 🤭

let’s say reader gets a tattoo of xavier’s sword (like the design behind his latest promise outfit) all the way down their back ;) i would die to see how he would react to this nyehehehe

it can be either fluff, suggestive, smut, up to you with whatever you’re comfy with <3 tysm hehe

Xavier: Ink & sword

Warning: Very suggestive! 16+ only, showering together, nudity, kissing, sensual touching, fem!reader, reader is not the mc but works as a hunter

Author's note: :>

MASTER LIST | Buy me a thread?

"I'm sorry—I knocked you back too hard," Xavier's hand reached down towards yours, and you, on the other hand, were buried underneath some plastic crates at the corner of the training room. He waited for you to take his hand. "Are you alright?"

You took his hand and used him to hoist yourself back to your feet, a tinge of pain and ache flowering from different parts of your back. You dropped the sword that you were holding, and it immediately dissipated into thin air. You looked at Xavier and patted his chest, trying to ease out that slight frown on his face.

"I'm alright. We deal with worse stuff on the battlefield."

Right above the entrance, a big digital clock projected the time in neon blue colors: 23:03. You and Xavier had been training for over three hours, and now the training grounds had been rid of people except for the two of you. Well, it couldn't be helped; Xavier's training regimen requires more time to perform, considering the complexity of his fighting style and condition.

Still, the fact that you can keep up is very noteworthy even in the eyes of others, though the only thing you were doing was defending and keeping your stance. The only worrying thing is that sometimes, Xavier forgets that you're just a normal hunter and tends to exert a bit more force when sparring.

You let out a small groan while you moved towards the shower room, and Xavier was walking right beside you, ready to reach out in case you toppled over. The frown was still on his face as if he regretted showing you that magnificent finishing blow. "Do you need help?"

You glanced at the shower room and hooked your index finger under his chin, turning his head slightly, the cheeky little teasing mood suddenly erupting from within you. "Are you offering to help me bathe? How daring of you."

"Uh...I didn't—" Xavier's doe eyes went wider than the moon, his nose and ears turning pink upon realizing your words.

You just loved finding the opportunity to fluster this little man.

Unbeknownst to Xavier, you knew how he has a little ongoing crush on you—credits to Tara for having that habit of snitching when drunk. And for a strong fighter, it feeds your ego to have him wrapped around your fingers.

"Can you just hand me the menthol patches in the kit?" you pointed at a small box nearby, one attached to the metal post. It was a first aid kit reserved for them. Xavier strode to the said post while you entered the washroom.

You opened your locker with your thumbprint and undid the brown leather support. Swiftly, you unbuttoned your blouse, picked at how it clung to your body, damp and riddled with dust and sweat. Finally, the stuffy bathroom air brushed against your sweat-ridden back.

"I got the patches..." Xavier entered the bathroom, the white menthol patches in his grasp. When he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes trailed from the curve of your form—eyes landing on the intricate tapestry of dark blue and white ink tattoo carved onto your back.

The shame of walking in on you naked disappeared in an instant.

You stared as Xavier slowly stepped beyond the room's threshold. You kept your blouse pressed against your chest, and even if you were nearly topless, Xavier's eyes never broke contact from your back. Why would he? The image of his very own sword was on your back.

"Is this why you wanted to take a picture of my sword?" His cold fingers slid down the dip of your spine, his eyes absorbing every bit of nitty-gritty detail about the tattoo. As much as he admires his real pristine sword, the image of it on your back is simply...breathtaking.

"Maybe? Do you like it?" You kept still, facing the locker. At that moment, every touch he made on your body was amplified beyond normal. The coolness of his fingers felt good against your warm back.

"It's beautiful," he uttered. The thin saber was positioned perfectly downwards to your spine, ending just above where your pants began, curving whenever you moved. The handle was positioned just between your shoulder blades. Feathers littered the rest of the space, some in blue and some in white. The intricate carvings on the side of his sword were perfectly captured. "Why did you choose my sword?"

"Well," your hand chucked the blouse in the locker. You glanced over your shoulder, the silver-haired man anticipating your answer. "It's because it was beautiful; I can't get my mind off of it." It just so happens that the man wielding it is beautiful as well. A beauty beyond the stars.

You turned back to face the locker, folding your blouse, thinking that Xavier had had enough of seeing the tattoo. Your lips opened, prepared to ask him to leave as you were nearly topless, if not for that low-back bra you're wearing, but before you could blurt a single word, Xavier pressed his lips on your shoulders.

It was as if his kiss had flicked a switch within you. You stiffened, leaning over while your hands hung at the edge of the locker. "Xavier? Did you just—"

The man placed another kiss lower. You could feel his tongue graze the surface of your skin. "Mhm, your skin is salty."

His words sobered you up; it wasn't exactly an insult, but that made you think. You stood up straight and faced him, your eyes coated with a sheen of lust and desperation. "I'm full of sweat. Do you really intend on having..." You held yourself back from spouting such vulgar words. "Never mind. Wait for me. I'm going to take a shower."

You took the towel and ran to the shower areas. It was dead silent. You pondered. Was Xavier really doing what you think he was going to do? Did the sword on your back push him to the edge?

All the thoughts crept at the back of your neck, but the softness of Xavier's lips remained. The hot water drizzled all over your body, releasing you from the stickiness of the fluids. You combed back your hair and looked up at the shower head, relishing the comfort of the rain-like sensation—for a few seconds at least.

The shower curtain shifted, and Xavier took a step in. His bare chest pressed against your back, and you spun quickly at the contact. Your eyes widened at the sight of his bare body—it's not the first time you saw it, but still—"Why are you here?"

"Let's take a shower together. Turn around, I'll wash your back."

"Do all training partners do this? Bathe together? Is this new?" You panicked, instinctively covering your areas while backing up against the cold porcelain wall. You stared up at him, the soft eyes no longer there. He looked intimidating now that he was towering over you.

"Do training partners sleep with each other when they get stuck in the mountains?" he uttered.

At that moment, the hazy memory of that stormy night flashed inside your head—the warmth of his touch, the flickering of the makeshift fireplace, his skin against yours, and his mouth exploring your body. Your face began to grow red at that memory.

Xavier's hands crawled to your hips, gently nudging you to turn. You didn't want to go against him, and at the same time, you were expecting something to happen because you would admit that Xavier was good. He felt good. His taste, his skill, and his size—what you didn't expect was that it wasn't going to be a one-time thing.

His hands were gliding on your back, and his burning stare trailed down to your ass. You bit your lip at the embarrassment. His hands, which were on your waist, found themselves holding on to your love handles, and gently, Xavier pulled your hips backward, coming into contact with his semi-hard-on.

"Shit," you uttered under your breath. Even if it wasn't fully hard, you could still clearly feel it. A million thoughts raced through your head, but there was one emotion that was prevalent: Erotic desire.

Xavier's lips came into contact with your back again, but this time, you couldn't help but flinch at every contact because his tongue and teeth grazed and gritted, intentionally leaving marks at Xavier's whims. Just by that, you were gasping for air, anticipating where he would bite next.

His fingernails scraped at your skin, tracing every curve and line of the tattoo; his touch was electrifying, but you craved more. How can he be so gentle but leave you feeling unexplainable things?

He peppered your back with light kisses from the dip of your back slowly, slowly crawling back up to your exposed nape. "Don't leave marks on my neck," you uttered between breaths. A loud pop of Xavier's kiss bounced off the shower room.

"Turn around, please. I want to see you," Xavier whispered. You looked over your shoulder, and you could see him stepping back a little bit, eager to see your body.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned to him, still covering your body. Admittedly, he was a little perplexed at seeing you acting all shy when it was you who was provoking him earlier, but poking fun at you wasn't right for the moment.

He brushed a stray hair that stuck onto your cheek and smiled, looking into your eyes fondly. "There's no need to hide," he said, taking a step closer. "You're beautiful."

His big hands caressed your elbows and slid up to your biceps, nudging you to loosen up. Your hands dropped from your body, but instead of letting them fall completely, you wrapped your hands around his neck.

You pressed your lips together, but all of a sudden, footsteps erupted.

"Is anyone in here?" the lady guard called. "Security!"

You covered Xavier's mouth and stared into his eyes, saying: 'Don't make a sound.'

"Oh, yes! I just finished training!" you yelled back.

"Alright, but please leave after 5 minutes. We're about to turn down the power for the entire floor."

"Sure! I'll be out in a minute," you replied. You and Xavier waited for a solid minute before moving. You let go of the breath you were holding, took the bar of soap from the holder, and gave it to Xavier. "Let's continue that at your apartment when we get home."

Author footnotes: Cockblocked by me, the author. Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

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[just-jordie-things]

fuck it, i love you - okkotsu yuuta

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 11k warnings: none really. reader likes lemon oreos bcuz i projected onto this <3 summary: (y/n) and yuuta get to know each other better over the phone while he's on assignment in africa. feelings ensue. more info: long distance friends to lovers, yuuta got that romance dawg in him

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[ and you know everyone adores you // you can’t feel it and you’re tired // baby, wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine // but it’s killing me slowly ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first time he gets a call from her, Yuuta is a little perplexed before he answers the phone.  Of the few people he might’ve expected a phone call from, (y/n’s) was the last name he expected to see on his screen.  Nonetheless, he answered it right away.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Okkotsu,” Her voice was so cheerful, he could’ve easily believed that she meant to call someone else.  But she’d said his name, so it couldn’t have been a mistake.  “How’s Morocco?”

“Morocco, is….” He trails off, fingers tapping a poor rhythm on the table in front of him.  Doing paperwork in a hotel room wasn’t ideal.  The desk provided was always small, and the chair always uncomfortable.  But it wasn’t like he had a lot to report anyways.  “It’s alright, I guess” 

“Alright, you guess?” She repeats curiously.  “Sounds like you’re bored already” 

“Bored-? N-no, no I’m not bored,” He stammered over his words, and (y/n) could be heard laughing through the line.  “I’m just, um, I’m trying to do a report right now” He said sheepishly.

Trying being the key word.  He’d practically given up ten minutes before he got her call anyways.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” (y/n) apologized right away.  “Am I keeping you? Should I go?” 

“N-no!” Yuuta squeaked, cringing at himself as he slumped back into his hair, covering his face with his hand as if there was anyone else around to hide his embarrassment from.  “No, you’re not keeping me, I… I have nothing for this report anyways” He explained.

“Really? Not goin’ so well?” She asked.

“Uh- it’s just- I don’t want to bore you with it,” He sighed.  “Anyways, what’s the call for? Isn’t it like…” He glances behind him at the analog clock on his bedside table, wincing when he sees how late it was.  “Three in the morning, your time?” 

“Actually, it’s only two forty-five,” She corrects with a clear smile in her tone.  “And aren’t I allowed to check in? You’ve been gone, for like, weeks” 

“Y-yeah, you’re allowed,” He mumbles back, face feeling hot.  “I just figured, y’know, you’re… busy” 

“Never too busy,” She half-jokes.  “So tell me all about it, boring parts and all” 

Yuuta’s brows pinch together, a small scoff leaving his throat.

“Really?” He’s unsure as to why she’d want to hear about the ins and outs of a trip that so far had proven to be pointless.  “You sure you want to hear about it?” 

“Course,” She hums back.  “Beats studying” 

So he complies.  There’s not much to tell, but he finds a way to walk her through what his day-to-day with Miguel was like.  Looking for more of the Black Rope.  She seemed to have some interest in the cursed tool, asking excitedly if it could stop the cursed techniques of even the strongest special grade sorcerers.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” He chuckles.  “But it’s been slow.  I’m starting to think this is going to take longer than we thought…” 

(y/n’s) a good listener.  She lets him ramble on even when he’s not making sense, and continues to prod and ask more questions when she comes up with them.  He thinks maybe she’s just stalling to keep her from studying, but he figures there were countless other things she could’ve done to keep her occupied… right? 

It’s not until Yuuta notices the clock and remembers the time difference between them that he finally stops his rambling and suggests they end their call soon.

“Ah- it’s late, and I’m probably boring you now, too” He lets out a light hearted chuckle that she can’t help but reciprocate.

“I guess I should try to study just a little” She huffs.

Yuuta scoffs, a small smile on his face as he picks up his pen and stares at the half-finished report in front of him.  Maybe he’d been stalling, too.

“Or you could just go to bed, cram last minute tomorrow” He suggests.

She seems amused by that, and when she lets out a little laugh he thinks it’s the right choice, too.  The noise comes out lazily, full of sleepiness.  It’s obvious even through the phone.  Yuuta wonders if she’s hunched over her desk, ignoring the textbook and notes right in front of her.

“You’re pr’lly right,” She murmurs, her tiredness even more evident in her voice.  “I guess I’ll go to bed then” 

“Okay,” Yuuta drums the pen against his thigh in an erratic beat.  Something about saying goodnight makes him feel a little disappointed.  

Until now, he hadn’t realized that it had been weeks since he’d casually talked to a friend.  Toge texted plenty, and sometimes he heard from Panda and Maki, too.  But this felt… different.

“Well, goodnight-” 

“And Okkotsu?” She interrupts him without realizing, quickly apologizing before she continues her thought.  “You didn’t bore me, just for the record.  I think it’s neat that you get to be on such a special assignment.  I hope that it gets more exciting for you” 

He’s thankful that she didn’t opt to facetime him, because his face grows so warm he just knows he’s turned into a tomato.  And something about sitting in his lonely little hotel room and blushing over such a simple comment is downright embarrassing.

He laughs nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt to relieve the heat on his neck.

“Uh, yeah, me too,” He stammered quietly.  “Thanks.  Good luck with studying” 

She hums.

“Goodnight, Okkotsu.  Thanks for keeping me company” 

The call ends there, and Yuuta smiles to himself as he sets his phone down and finds the energy to finish up his pointless report.

Talking with her had been nice.  Maybe they hadn’t become the closest of friends between him enrolling at Jujutsu Tech and being shipped off to Africa, but he thinks that could- and should- change.

He’d have to make more of an effort to get closer to her while he was away.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When (y/n) calls again, it’s not so late this time.

Yuuta had just settled in the hotel lobby with his burrito for lunch, his only plan for the time being was to scroll aimlessly on his phone while he ate.  To his luck, just as he sat down on the stiff cushioned chair in the lobby, his phone rang.

“Okkotsu!” 

It had been a little over a week since their last call, and Yuuta had done his best to keep in touch with her since then.  A few photos of the wildlife native to the area that she seemed to enjoy, or a pretty sunrise here or there.  There were a lot of messages sent to her first thing in the morning, beautiful photos tagged with his complaints of being up so early.  It was the easiest time to use his phone, and he’d tried to make a habit of at least messaging her once a day.

To his delight, she always sent him a response.  It wasn’t always right away, with an eight hour time difference that was a steep ask, but she never failed to let him know that she saw his message and appreciated it somehow.  Whether it was an emoji reaction or a full text, she never left a text from him unanswered.  Strangely, Yuuta found this to be thoughtful of her.

“I’m cooking, can you believe it!?” She sounds excited, but the kind of excited that seems like something very wrong is about to happen.

“O-oh?” He stutters, chucking as he tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder so he could unwrap his burrito.  “What, are you not allowed, or something?” 

“Hush, I don’t let anyone tell me what to do,” She laughs at his comment, not realizing he wasn’t joking.  “I just haven’t cooked for myself properly since moving away from home.  The kitchen here is puny, though,” She mutters the last part.

The muffled sounds coming through the speaker sound as though she’s rummaging around the cabinets.  Yuuta tilts his phone away from his ear a little, the dishware clanking together more unpleasant than usual coming through a phone.

“But I thought it’d be nice to make a home cooked dinner.  I was going to make some for everyone, but I guess they already ate.  So it’s dinner for one tonight,” She explains.  Yuuta’s chest sinks with disappointment at the thought of missing quality time with his friends.  “Anyways, what’re you up to?” 

“Eating a burrito,” He replies dryly.  “What are you making? I’d much rather have that” 

“Don’t speak too soon, it’s been a while since I’ve been in a kitchen,” 

(y/n) laughs, and Yuuta does too.

“Just ramen,” She answers.  “Figured it’s best to start out simple.  Also figured I couldn’t set anything on fire” 

“Depends on how you look at it.  Setting something on fire while only cooking ramen might be an accomplishment, with how difficult it must be” 

He doesn’t mean to be funny, but (y/n’s) laughing again, and Yuuta smiles through a mouthful of burrito for saying something clever enough.  Pride swells in his chest the longer he hears her laughter turn to muted giggles while she’s pittering about the kitchen.

“You’re eating, should I let you go?” She asks once her laughter has calmed down.

“No, it’s alright,” Yuuta shakes his head even though he knows she can’t see.  “I’m bored anyways.  I was just going to sit here by myself and eat this burrito” 

She laughs again, lightly this time.

“Alright, then, want me to tell you about how hard Maki kicked my ass in training yesterday?” She offers.

He’d already had an inkling, recalling a harshly worded text from her followed by a photo of her left leg covered in blue and purple marks that were bound to grow dark soon.  He’d cringed when he’d seen it, giving the image a frowning emoji reaction before responding with, ‘Maki?’.  But he happily agrees to have her tell him the rest of the story behind the bruises.

He deems (y/n) and Maki to hold a far closer friendship than he did himself, so he knew that the next five minutes of ranting on her part is in good nature and she was only annoyed with losing, not necessarily with Maki herself.  That said, as someone who had dealt with the torture of training with her, Yuuta understood the feeling quite well.  He laughs when she talks about being thrown to the ground like a ragdoll, and he winces when she tells him about the absolute beatdown she’d taken.

It’s a gruesome retelling, even though at times she talks as if it was as casual a part of her day as brushing her teeth had been.  The life of a jujutsu sorcerer was always an unorthodox one.

“She didn’t even try to go easy on me, Okkotsu.  But, she did get me an ice cream sandwich with my ice pack, so she’s still my best friend, I guess” She’s only teasing, evident in the way she giggles.

“Yuuta” He says without thinking, having happened to swallow the last of his food and finally getting a chance to speak.

“Hm- what?” 

“You can just call me Yuuta” He clarifies, eyes darting around the lobby to be sure no one could see him blushing.  

His voice grows quieter as he suddenly feels bashful in the public setting.  None of the people passing in and out of the space pay him a second glance, and it doesn’t dawn on him that they might not even understand his language, but his body language says enough.  He’s tucked into the corner chair, hunched over and holding the phone as close to his face as possible so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice too much.  Not to mention, his face was turning a rosy shade of pink.

“Alright, Yuuta,” (y/n) muses, testing the waters to see how his name sounded.  It felt foreign, and it had the color in Yuuta’s face darkening even faster, but she seemed amused by the change.  “Ramen’s coming along pretty well, I think it’ll actually be edible!” 

She’s quick to move on from the semi-serious topic.  He’s relieved for this, and does his best to come across as casual as possible.  He asks her about the recipe, and she talks to him for a while about her process until the conversation somehow turns back on him and he’s updating her about Morocco.

Time passes so easily, Yuuta barely realizes that he’s been sitting in the lobby for an hour, not thinking about how she had finished her dinner and eaten it too.  (y/n) never mentions the time either, unknown to him, sitting on the counter in the common room’s kitchenette as she talks aimlessly about anything and everything she can think of.  Yuuta enjoys hearing about it all, the shenanigans that she’s been up to with Toge, the odd style of teaching that Gojo has, even just the simple things, like how yesterday it had rained.

There’s something magical about being on the phone with her, he realizes halfway into hearing about how she’d gone outside to help the worms back into the grass after the rainfall.  Not only does he lose time, but there’s not a dull moment.  Most of his days had become so bland and boring they’d started to blend together.  Besides the occasional sword training, he’d spent the majority of his time wandering about with Miguel.  It was starting to feel aimless, with every passing day that they came up empty handed.

Talking with her was everything but boring, never boring.  It finally felt like he had some company to get him through this assignment.  He hoped that this second call meant they could make more of a habit out of it.

“I should probably go so I can clean up the kitchen,” She sighs when she finally suggests getting off the phone.  It’s then, and only then, that Yuuta checks the time, quickly pulling his phone away to tap the screen before putting it up to his ear again.  “I think it’d be obnoxious for me to stay on the phone while I do the dishes” She adds with a chuckle.

His heart spikes at the idea of her wanting to keep talking, though.

“Y-yeah, that might be too loud,” He replies.  “But that’s okay, I should probably get some training in, or something, anyways” 

“Gotta keep up that Special Grade status,” (y/n) teases.  He’s grateful she can’t see him fluster every time she teases him, no matter how lighthearted it is.  He’s not sure why it sends him into a mini panic every time, but he hopes he gets a hang of himself soon, if they’re going to keep talking like this.  “Talk soon, though?” 

He’d really have to learn to get a hold of himself.  The short question has him beaming and nodding his head wildly, although the only people to see it are the hotel staff at the check-in desk who’d been peeking glances at the weird talkative boy on his phone for the last two hours.

Yuuta clears his throat before speaking, hoping to sound as normal as possible.

“Yeah, yeah we can talk again soon”

He’s not sure how well he does.

“Okay, cool,” The smile is evident in her tone, and in turn has Yuuta smiling too.  “Talk to you later then, Yuuta” 

Maybe he was just hopeless, but hearing his name again has him blushing and fidgeting in his seat.

“Bye, (y/n)” 

Even once the call has ended and his phone is sitting lifeless in his lap, with the rush of adrenaline Yuuta gets, one might think he’d just received the best news of his life.  Funnily enough, he hadn’t received much news at all- besides the fact that the worms on Jujutsu Tech Tokyo’s property were safe and accounted for after a life threatening sprinkle- so his giddiness was solely brought on by talking with her.

Slowly but surely, she was becoming his favorite person to talk to.

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[y/n]: need ur help, it’s urgent [y/n]: ok woah i should not have said it like that

[yuuta]: ??? are you ok???

[y/n]: need u to help me win a bet

[yuuta]: ._. [yuuta]: ok.

[y/n]: vanilla oreos suck, right? 

[yuuta]: this was urgent? 

[y/n]: panda said they’re his favorite flavor.

[yuuta]: oh god. [yuuta]: he needs a wellness check for sure.

[y/n]: THANK YOU  [y/n]: toge said his fav were the birthday cake ones but the vanilla weren’t bad. he’s still got the taste of a toddler, but at least they’re not his FAVORITE i mean cmon.  vanilla is just bad. [y/n]: i knew you’d understand me.

[yuuta]: ur right this was urgent.  i thought i knew them. [yuuta]: what are your favorite?

[y/n]: obviously i told them original.

[yuuta]: … implying they’re not actually your favorite? 

[y/n]: you’re asking very personal questions, yuuta

[yuuta]: lmfao [yuuta]: i’ll tell u mine if u tell me urs :)

[y/n]: u first i’m shy :)

[yuuta]: original are good.  but i like the toffee ones best 

[y/n]: interesting.

[yuuta]: so am i getting judged for my oreo preference, too? 

[y/n]: lol no.  ur safe.  for now ;)

[yuuta]: well we had a deal.  what’s ur fav?

[y/n]: … i like the lemon ones

[yuuta]: :o [yuuta]: don’t those come with a VANILLA cookie???

[y/n]: … [y/n]: maybe.

[yuuta]: ur ridiculous

[y/n]: but the lemon flavor makes it different.  it’s not PLAIN vanilla.

[yuuta]: can’t argue with u there

[y/n]: ya bcuz u wouldn’t dare :)

[yuuta]: no i wouldn’t :) 

[y/n]: mwahaha i have the big scary special grade afraid of me :)

[yuuta]: idk about big.  and the scary is all rika

[y/n]: does she have a take on the great oreo flavor debate? &lt;3

[yuuta]: … [yuuta]: she always preferred animal crackers.

[y/n]: &lt;;/3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When Yuuta finally works up the courage to call her first, it’s been a couple weeks.

Which in hindsight, it feels like too much time has passed.  Even though they’ve been texting every single day nearly nonstop.  Yuuta had grown so attached to his phone it was almost becoming a problem.

Not that he’d admit it.

“Okkotsu Yuuta!” She picks up the phone with the same eagerness she’d held the last time she’d called him.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I was bored, and was hoping you had something interesting going on,” He sighed, falling backwards on the perfectly made bed in his room.  Too perfect.  It was always annoying to tug the covers out of their tightly tucked corners to comfortably sleep at night.  “All I’ve been doing is train and I’m exhausted” He grumbles.

(y/n) hums through the speaker.

“Well if you’re that bored, I suppose I could tell you about a boy conflict of mine,” She suggests.

Just as Yuuta was starting to relax into the mattress, he felt his spine go stiff as a chill shot from his tailbone all the way up to his neck.  It feels like his entire body has been drenched in icy water, freezing him solid.

“It’s okay if that’s too… weird, though” He’s drawn back to reality by (y/n’s) nervous laugh, something he doesn’t hear all that often.  It’s strained and awkward, displaying every bit of anxious emotion that she felt.  

“It’s not weird,” Yuuta’s not usually very good at lying, people always have a way of seeing right through him.  He wonders if he’s only decent at telling this one because she’s not physically here.  She can’t see the way his face contorts as it tries to stay neutral, or how his fingers start to tap against the comforter beneath him.  “Boy conflict is… normal” He adds.

He’d meant that one, but she laughs anyway.

“I guess so,” She sighs through the speaker.  “But I’ve never really had any before.  Not like you get to meet a lot of people.  But… I guess I met someone..?”

Yuuta’s gut twists, and he wonders if he ate something bad with his lunch.  Maybe the chicken was undercooked? No, it seemed fine.  He probably just ate too fast.

“That feels less like conflict and more like interest” His jaw feels tight when he talks.  With his free hand, he rubs at it and tries to keep his teeth from clenching.

“Well, I am interested,” 

Distantly, Yuuta thinks he should swallow some tums before he goes to bed so this stomach ache won’t keep him up all night.

“At least, I think I am,” (y/n) sighs again.  “He’s not a sorcerer, I met him at a corner store I went to with Maki,” She explains.  “He was cute and all, I guess we had a moment over the energy drinks? It’s kind of a blur, I didn’t really pay attention until he was handing me his number and now I have this number and- I don’t know.  Is that weird?” 

Yuuta’s not really sure what to tell her.  He’s not really sure how he feels about it.  His gut tells him that yes, it is weird, and she shouldn’t be going out with some guy she met at a convenience store.  Anyone can walk into one of those, he thinks bitterly, his brow furrowed as he thought over her dilemma.

“Well, um, did he seem… nice?” 

The question comes out pathetic.  Yuuta’s smacking his hand over his face from how stupid he sounds, and feels.  

“Yeah, I guess” (y/n) answers anyways.

“Then I guess ball’s in your court?” The suggestion comes out more as a question than he means it to.  Yuuta thinks he wasn’t equipped for this, and maybe he should have told her it was a weird thing for them to talk about.

But he wouldn’t have meant that.  He would talk to her about anything, and he wanted her to feel the same.  He wanted her to talk about anything and everything she wanted.  Lord knows he’d take an interest in it. 

However the interest he has in this conversation isn’t quite like normal.  His curiosity is less genuine.  It feels like it’s lurching around in his mind, something disappointed yet irritable growing in it’s place.  He hates the feeling.  He hates feeling that way towards her.  Even if it wasn’t directed at her specifically.

“You’re right,” There’s more determination in her voice now.  “I should just text him, right?”

No, Yuuta’s jaw is clenched again, teeth grinding loudly.  He hopes she can’t hear it through the phone.  No, don’t let some stranger have your number.  He doesn’t deserve it like I do.

“Right!” His voice is louder than he means to, as if trying to overpower the jealous train of thought that runs through his mind.

He’s sitting upright on the bed in a second, still rigid and uncomfortable, but his anxiety makes him want to pace.  He needs to work off the awkward feeling in his chest somehow.

“Then I can see what he’s like,” (y/n) speaks as though she’s really telling herself what made the most sense.  Yuuta’s nodding wordlessly, his eyes fixated on a spot on the floor that’s growing more blurry by the second.  “And then if I like him… maybe we can go out or something” She mumbles the last part, clearly distracted.  

He wonders if she’s texting him now.  The idea of her reaching out to this random guy while she’s on the phone with him sends his heart plummeting to his already upset stomach.

Where were all of these nasty feelings coming from? 

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea” Yuuta’s speaking, but it feels distant, he’s not exactly sure of what he’s saying.

“Alright.  I’ll text him later, then,” 

He’s relieved that she wasn’t doing it this very moment, but there was still an unsettling pit in his stomach knowing she was bound to reach out at some point.

“Thanks, Yuuta.  So, what’s been going on with you?” 

It takes a while of chatting and pacing the room before Yuuta feels like himself again.  He’s lucky there wasn’t a circle burned in the shape of his track in the tightly coiled carpeting of his room, certainly he would’ve had to call Gojo for a favor if he was billed for such damage.

Eventually the nasty feeling in his chest settles and he’s sitting in the bed again, the notebook he was drafting up today’s report on propped on his legs and his phone at his side, (y/n’s) voice on speaker as she tells him about the rest of her and Maki’s outing in the shopping district.

As it always does, time goes by too quickly, and soon enough she’s yawning through the speaker and telling him it was getting too late for her.

“But thanks for calling, Yuuta.  I was starting to think you didn’t know phones worked both ways” She teases softly.

Had she been waiting for him to call? 

“Yeah, anytime.  I just… you know the time difference… I don’t ever want to bother you” 

“You? Bother me?” She giggles.  “After you let me talk your ear off about a boy, I don’t think that’s what’s happening here,” She tells him.

The nasty feeling swells again.

“Besides, you could never bother me,” She adds, her tone much softer.  Almost sweet.  Yuuta can’t tell if his stomach is convulsing or doing flips.  “But call again sometime, m’kay?” 

“Okay,” He says, hopeful, and just as eager as he felt.  “G’night, (y/n)” 

“Bye Yuuta, goodnight!” 

His phone lights up with the low battery icon once the call is over.  He’s slow to plug the charger into it and leave it on his nightstand for the evening, his mind still mulling over everything she’d told him.  Or more so, how he’d felt taking in all that information.

He couldn’t have possibly been jealous, right? Not over some random guy.  Not because of her.  They were friends, after all.  Friends that didn’t even get that close until after he left.  In his time at Jujutsu Tech he’d only spoken to her a handful of times, and mostly in passing.  It wouldn’t feel right to have something like jealousy spark up now.  No, he was probably just worried for her, seeing as he couldn’t look out for her when he’s thousands of miles away.  Yeah, that was it.

It couldn’t have anything to do with the way he felt his world light up when she laughed.  Or that getting a text message from her in the sound effect that he’d picked out just for her contact had serotonin spiking in his brain.  

None of those things were connected at all.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The fourth time they talk on the phone, unfortunately, he has to hear about this guy again.

Yuuta’s not even sure he knows his name.  He thinks (y/n) must’ve mentioned it once or twice in their texts, but it’s never quite stuck, and honestly, Yuuta doesn’t want to ask.

Not that he cares- it wasn’t like that at all.  It had simply been too long for it to feel appropriate to ask.  He didn’t want her to think he didn’t listen, is all.

He’d called one evening when yet again he felt like putting off writing up his report.  It had almost become a habit to reach out to her as soon as he was stalling, or bored.  He didn’t have much to talk about, he never really did, but he had been eager to tell her about some new cuisine he’d tried that he’d thought she might like. 

There was a pesky thought in the back of his mind about her visiting him for a few days.  Only pesky due to how often it presented itself, even when he should’ve been focused on more pressing matters.  He knew it was bad when Miguel had taken notice and smacked him upside the head to get him to pay attention- on this earth, preferably, he’d said.

But he couldn’t help it.  The idea of having her here, for a few days or a few weeks, had become his go-to daydream.  He already knew everything he’d want to show her, the busy, colorful markets and the good food Yuuta hadn’t known existed until coming here.  To how pretty the beaches were at sunset, especially when the little hermit crabs would wake up and wander around the shore, he thinks she’d like that a lot.

Even just the idea of having her around to hang out with and chat about anything and nothing, just like how they do through their phones, had his chest buzzing with warmth and excitement.  Even though it was all in his head and logic told him she probably couldn’t make such a trip.  She had her own assignments and lessons after all, and technically he was supposed to be working.

Nonetheless, when he found himself getting bored, his mind drifted off to pretending she was there with him to keep him company.  Sometimes it even did the trick.

Tonight when he calls her, he’s kicking around the idea of bringing it up.  Maybe if she took it well enough he could reach out to Gojo about it, surely he had the social standing and the funds to let her visit.  His heart is thrumming in his chest just thinking about it, every ring of the dial tone putting him further on the edge of his seat.

It rings a total of five times before she finally answers.  It’s not all that late in Tokyo, just half past nine, but suddenly Yuuta worries that this wasn’t a good time to call.

“Hey,” He’s the first to speak, grinning from ear to ear when the line finally clicks and she’s answered the call.  “Is this a bad time?” 

“Uh, n-no,” She stutters back, voice quiet and a little raspier than usual.  Had she been sleeping? She speaks before he can double check if it was an okay time to talk.  “I’m not doing anything.  What’s up?” 

Yuuta can’t quite put his finger on it, but it certainly sounds like it’s a bad time.  Her voice is lacking it’s usual mirth, and she sounds like she’s purposefully trying not to raise her voice.  His smile begins to fall as his brain starts to stir with worry.

“Nothing, really.  Just… wanted to talk, I guess,” It feels a little embarrassing to admit, but for once, she’s not teasing him.  It’s strange, not hearing her softly poke fun at him when he’d clearly given her an opening to do so.  “What’re you doing?” 

“It’s almost ten here, I’m in bed” 

The words almost come out cold, a bitterness to them that Yuuta wasn’t used to.  If it weren’t for the crack in her voice, he might’ve thought she was upset with him.  But there’s a noticeable little hitch in the middle of her words that tells him it’s not annoyance he’s picking up on.

“Hey,” His voice is quiet as he sits on his bed, brows furrowing as he feels the mood shift even in a room thousands of miles away from hers.  “Is something wrong?” 

“No” Comes her instant answer, but it’s not remotely believable.  Her voice is so quiet and muffled it barely comes through the speaker, and shortly after he hears a shuffling that sounds like a heap of blankets being tossed around.

“C’mon, wanna talk about it?” He pressed again, dragging his finger over the crisp comforter on the bed to create misshapen invisible designs.  “What happened, (y/n)?” He asks again, voice softer than before.

The tiniest of sniffles could be heard, and his heart sinks at the idea of her sitting alone in bed and crying.  Whatever caused it he was sure he could find a way to solve it.  It wasn’t often that Yuuta felt cocky with his Special Grade status, but in this moment he was sure he was the most powerful person in the world, and if something had bothered her this much, he’d certainly be able to take care of it.

“It’s- it’s stupid,” The high pitch in the cracking of her voice was more evident the louder she spoke.  He’s worried she was going to leave it at that, maybe tell him to leave her alone or hang up altogether.  Then he hears a wobbly inhale before she’s whimpering through her words again.  “I’m so stupid, Yuuta, what was I thinking?”

His heart cracks with every word she speaks.  He’s not sure what put her in such pain, but he swears, he’s experiencing it too just knowing she was hurting.  He places his free hand over his chest to ease the hollow feeling that carves itself there.

“What d’ya mean? You’re not stupid, not remotely.  C’mon, y’know that,” He tries to keep his voice light and gentle, even though the growing put in his stomach had his throat closing up.  “What happened? Talk to me” He pleads softly.

(y/n) sniffles, before trying to even out her breathing again so she didn’t sound so pathetic when she talked.

“I don’t even want to tell you, it’s so stupid,” She admits.  “B-but everyone else is busy, o-or gone and I- I don’t want to cry about it anymore,” 

Had she been crying for a while? His heart seizes at the thought.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?” She mumbles.  Yuuta nodded his head rapidly in response.

“Yeah, yeah of course I promise.  I won’t laugh at you” He tells her with grave sincerity.

She sighs, breath still shaky, but she does her best to talk through it.

In a wobbly, quiet voice, she tells him everything.  About how she had plans to meet up with convenience-store-guy that Yuuta still hadn’t caught the name of.  How she’d taken plenty of time to plan out her outfit and put herself together, how in the meantime he’d been nothing short of flirtatious and sweet, leading her to believe he’d been eager to go out with her.  She tells him how an hour before they were set to meet up a block away from campus, she’d stopped hearing from him altogether.  She laughs humorlessly as she explains she’d sent nearly ten messages asking where he was or if he needed to reschedule before she’d dropped it completely and walked herself back home.

“No text, no call.  Absolutely n-nothing,” She mutters bitterly.  “But I don’t g-get it, did I do something wr-wrong?” 

“Of course not,” Yuuta sighed, trying to release the tension of his building irritation so he could keep his focus on comforting her.  “He’s just… he’s stupid, okay? I don’t know what his deal is, but you dodged a bullet, for sure.  If that’s how he acts before a first date, imagine how terrible he would’ve been by the twentieth” 

Surprisingly, he’s not terrible when it comes to consoling her.  (y/n) hums tiredly in agreement.  It doesn’t necessarily take the pain away, but there is some relief in knowing it never would have worked out.

“Yeah,” She breathes out.  “But… I was excited, you know?” She mumbles.  “I’ve never been on a real date before, at least I don’t think I have, but I think I’d know,” She explains.  “I just… I thought I’d feel normal for a night.  I- I thought he liked me.  I kinda liked him, too.  But mostly I…” She trails off, and they both remain silent for a few beats, each processing their own mess of thoughts.  “I liked the idea of being liked, I guess.  Is that selfish?”

“Of course not,” Yuuta chuckles warmly.  “Everyone wants that.  It’s completely normal,” He says.  “Besides, it’s not like you were imagining things.  He did have an interest.  Who wouldn’t?” 

The last part comes out before he can realize what he’s actually saying, and his face grows hot with the insinuation of his words.  He’s stammering to fix it, which doesn’t help him much, but he tries.

“W-what I mean is that there will be plenty of other people who will meet you and fall for you completely and y-you’ll be swarmed with phone numbers and people who like you!” 

He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but his nerves are starting to take over as the word vomit continues.  (y/n’s) quiet as she listens intently, and the longer she doesn’t speak up to stop him, the worse his rambling becomes.

“You’ll have to fight ‘em all off, you know? There’s so many people out there who haven’t been lucky enough to meet you yet, and when they do you’ll get to experience everything you want.  You know what?”

There’s a soft ‘what?’ from her end before he continues on his rant.

“It’s a good thing your first date wasn’t with that prick anyways.  It wouldn’t have been fair.  It wouldn’t have been right at all if your first date was boring or shitty or- or anything short of special and electric, okay?” 

(y/n) still doesn’t say anything, but she’s hanging onto every word he says, even when they’re rushed and he’s stumbling over them, all of her focus is on what he’s saying.

“Because you deserve it.  And anyone who is remotely worth your time will know that.  And they’ll- they’ll text you too much before you finally go out, because they’ll be nervous because you make them nervous because you’ll be so out of their league, you know?” He doesn’t even pause before continuing.  “And they’ll pick you up on time if not early because they’ll respect your time, and they’ll have flowers- the prettiest, most expensive bouquet they could find- right? A bouquet even Gojo couldn’t afford,” 

She lets out a watery laugh that has Yuuta easing up in his rambling, a warm feeling planting in his chest in the hopes she’d smiled, even just a little bit, even if it was through her tears, he’d provoked just a little bit of joy from her.

“And… and if you’re anything short of completely swept away, then you’ll call Maki and she’ll come get you so you don’t have to spend another second wasting your time with a loser that doesn’t deserve you” 

His chest is heaving a bit when he finally stops, not realizing he was losing his breath the longer he rambled on.  His face feels hot as he processes everything he’d just dumped on her, and he prays that it wasn’t as pathetic as he’s worrying it was.

There’s a few small sniffles before (y/n) speaks up.

“Well, if you were back home, I’d just call you,” She says softly.  Her voice doesn’t sound as strained as before, and Yuuta hopes it means she’d stopped crying.  “You really think I’ll be able to find all that?” 

“Yeah, ‘course I do,” He mumbles back, although his words hold absolute certainty.  “Not a doubt in my mind” 

She giggles, a real little laugh that he can almost see.  It’s short and sweet and it has him elated that he’d lightened her mood.  He’s not sure what exactly he did, but he’s grateful that the word vomit was beneficial for once.

“Thank you, Yuuta,” She murmurs.  “You’re right, and, I actually feel a little better,” 

His heart soars, and he’s smiling to himself again with pride and relief.

“I’m still going to watch Pride and Prejudice before bed, though.  I’d already committed to it and I can’t just go to sleep now” She tells him seriously.  Yuuta laughs, falling back on his bed as comfortably as he could with his feet still planted on the ground.

“I’ve never seen it,” He tells her.  “But don’t stay up too-” 

“Never?” She interrupts with a gasp of shock.  “Yuuta, that’s criminal” 

He chuckles again.  “Is it really?” 

“Yes, very much so,” She tells him.  “When you’re back we have to watch it, okay?” 

“Yeah, sure-” 

“No, promise” She demanded for the second time that night.

“I promise,” He repeats, smiling to himself as his gaze wanders the ceiling.  

He couldn’t help but think that if she were to visit him, they could spend a whole afternoon here in this room watching her movie, probably eating snacks and making a mess of the place as they got cozy for it.  This room had always remained perfectly tidy, so much so it was almost boring.  Having her in it would surely brighten it up and give it some life, he thinks.

“We’ll watch it as soon as I’m back” He tells her.

“Okay.  Good.  You were on thin ice for a second, you know” She murmurs sleepily.  He can hear her yawning.

“Was I?” He muses.  “Is that what it takes to get you to hang up on me?” 

“Are you suggesting I wouldn’t?” She quips back, and he’s glad that her teasing nature has come around again.

“I’m suggesting you never have before” Yuuta shrugs.  His fingers are pressed firmly against the back of his phone, keeping it close to his ear so he couldn’t miss the way she laughed at him.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re just good company,” She hums.  “But it is late and I want to watch this movie, so I guess there’s a first for everything” 

His face is warm and he feels full, like he’d just eaten a good meal, despite him having skipped lunch in order to call her.  Yuuta smiles lazily at the blank ceiling as he hums back to her.

“Alright, enjoy your movie,” He says.  “But, uh, you can call me again.  Y’know, if you… need to.  Or want to” 

There’s a pause before she responds.

“Okay,” It comes out in a hushed whisper.  “Have a good rest of your day, Yuuta” 

The time difference has his lips pinching into a frown, but he quickly tries to hold onto the last few seconds of joy he has while talking to her.

“Goodnight, (y/n)”

The call ends, and he drops his phone to the mattress, letting it sit forgotten beside his head.  He stays put in his semi-comfortable position, still staring at the ceiling as his hands fall to his sides.  His chest felt tight, and his mind a little dazed as he replayed the call over and over in his mind.  The hurt he’d felt when she was hurting, the relief he’d felt when she was happy.  It was overwhelming, the way his own emotions were thrown through the wringer depending on hers.

His heart was hammering in his chest so hard, Yuuta knew he couldn’t deny his feelings any longer.

He was falling for her.  Fast, and hard.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[yuuta]: [attachment]: one image [yuuta]: i think you’d like these little guys

[y/n]: :D a hermit crab!!! [y/n]: so cute! can’t believe ur holding it, i’d be scared of getting pinched

[yuuta]: i’m special grade, i’m not scared of anything :)

[y/n]: getting real comfy with throwing that title around, huh? you must think so low of me, a mere second grade.  i could never amount to the *mighty* okkotsu yuuta.

[yuuta]: lol shut up it’s just a crab

[y/n]: he is super cute.  his name is yuu now :)

[yuuta]: bcuz u miss me so much? :)

[y/n]: bcuz he’s small and feisty.  that little claw looks ready to attack :>

[yuuta]: ok i’ll admit he did pinch me once. [yuuta]: but in his defense i did pick him up and i am a big scary human

[y/n]: lmfao [y/n]: i thought we just established ur small and feisty

[yuuta]: i don’t think i like being called small 

[y/n]: tiny  [y/n]: smol [y/n]: just a baby

[yuuta]: are we still talking abt the crab?? 

[y/n]: and maybe a little cute [y/n]: if we’re still talking about similarities :) 

[yuuta]: cute???????

[y/n]: when u first came to jujutsu tech u were kinda like a hermit crab LMFAO [y/n]: i think if u had a shell u would’ve lived in it for WEEKS XD

[yuuta]: ._.

[y/n]: :)

[yuuta]: ur being a menace today [yuuta]: more than usual

[y/n]: it’s bcuz gojo’s lesson plan so far has been fighting the air :/ idk how he’s a teacher.  i’m definitely not learning anything [y/n]: except that i might be able to take him in a fight without cursed energy

[yuuta]: my money is on u :)  [yuuta]: but also i’ll be there with ice cream when u get ur ass kicked 

[y/n]: &lt;;/3[y/n]: that’s my broken heart[y/n]: you’ve broken my heart.

[yuuta]: lol [yuuta]: but there will be ice cream [yuuta]: <3

[y/n]: …  [y/n]: ok i might forgive u

[yuuta]: is it bcuz i’m cute  [yuuta]: :)) [yuuta]: ?? (y/n) ?? [yuuta]: :(( [yuuta]: don’t ghost me ik ur not paying attention in class

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The tenth phone call they have, (y/n’s) the one calling him.

It’s one in the morning his time, so he’s sound asleep on the mattress that still feels stiff after about three months of him sleeping on it.  Every day he longs more and more to go back home to his cozy room and his friends and her.  

When his ringtone blares, a pretty tune that’s suddenly the most obnoxious sound on the planet, he’s awake right away.  Jolting from his slumber and reaching around blindly in search of the device.  He nearly shoves everything on his bedside table right off, his arm swinging with too much force in his desperate attempt to pick up the phone.

Even once it’s in his hand, it takes him a second to steadily press the accept button, his vision blurry and sleep still threatening to take back over.  It takes him a few tries before he’s answering the call and laying the phone on his pillow next to his head.

“Hello?” He rasps out.

“Yuuta!” (y/n’s) all too cheery for one in the morning, but he distantly remembers it’s the early evening in Tokyo.  His eyes squeeze shut as he rubs at them tiredly.  “Yuuta! How could you not tell me the good news!?” 

She’s yelling, and even without his phone on speaker he hears her perfectly fine just having the device laying next to his head.  It’s a shock to his ears, his mind buzzing as it tries to wake him up to deal with the noise.  But he snuggles deeper into his pillow, rolling onto his side to press his face into the feathery plushness.

“-was gonna wait,” He mumbles sleepily.  “Y’know, ‘til I was awake, ‘nd it was a normal time” His words are followed by a low chuckle.  The pillow suddenly becomes the comfiest thing he’s ever touched, and even the stiff mattress becomes a little more inviting.

“Wait?” She repeats the word before gasping dramatically.  “Okkotsu Yuuta, I had to hear you were coming back from Toge!” 

He chuckles again at her antics.  He’s still exhausted, but his chest feels warm hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Do you know how long it took him to tell me? Hm? He did charades, Yuuta.  Charades!” The image has him laughing a little more, shoulders shaking just a little bit as he listens to her go on.  “I’m terrible at charades by the way.  The whole thing took, like, fifteen minutes.  I was pissed he couldn’t just write it down” 

“Toge’s jus’ like that” He mumbles.

“But you told him before me?” 

Yuuta’s not sure if the offense in her tone is fake or not.  To play it safe, he covers his tracks.

“No,” He sighs.  “Gojo pr’lly told him.  He only just told me before I went to bed” 

“And you didn’t even text,” (y/n) huffs, but he can hear the laugh she’s trying to hold back.  He smiles in relief knowing she was just sticking to her bit.  “Well you better actually text me as soon as you’re back!” She says threateningly.  “We have plans.  You promised” 

“How could I forget?” He hums, voice low and growing quieter as his body beckons him to fall back to sleep.

“Okay.  Good,” She says definitively.  “I guess I’ll let you go back to sleep.  Sorry for waking you up” 

He hums in amusement.

“Don’t be sorry for being so excited to see me you couldn’t contain it,” He teases quietly.  (y/n’s) silent on the other end of the line.  “And don’t be embarrassed, either” He adds.

“I’m not embarrassed!” She squeaks, making him chuckle some more.  Maybe he was just deprived of his sleep, but she was extra cute when he was the one doing the teasing.  “But I… I am excited to see you” 

He smiles into his pillow, sighing contentedly into it.

“I know sweetheart,” He mumbles.  “And ‘m excited to see you too” 

She’s failing to stifle a giggle through the speaker.

“Okay okay, you’re clearly wiped.  I’ll let you go,” She says.  “Goodnight, Yuuta” 

“Night, (y/n)” 

He’s asleep before she even ends the call, drawn back into rest by the suddenly comfortable bedding and the sweet echo of her laughter playing in his mind.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

(y/n) had been adamant about having their movie night the same night he gets back to Tokyo.  With the jet lag and the time difference keeping him awake against his wishes, she was sure that having a relaxed evening inside would be the best way to ease him back into being at home.

Yuuta, on the other hand, tried to make it clear that they didn’t have to rush into it.  His flight would land at eleven in the evening, and he was sure he wouldn’t even be back to campus before midnight.  While it might have felt like early afternoon to him, (y/n) would have already had a full day of lessons and training, and likely be exhausted by that time.

However she was stubborn.  It didn’t matter how much he tried to persuade her otherwise, she remained certain that she would stay awake long enough to greet him and have a simple, fun night set up for them.

And who was he to fight too hard against it anyways? The idea of her going through the trouble and wanting to stay up so late just to see him gave him energy for the whole day.  He was smiling through customs, bouncing his leg waiting to board, texting her as much as possible before he’d have to put his phone on airplane mode, and greeting every employee and flight attendant with so much delight it was infectious.  He’d even gotten an extra package of goldfish for his delightful friendliness.

He’s as quick as can be picking up his checked luggage and rushing out of the airport.  Anyone who saw might have thought he was late, but in actuality he was trying to be as early as possible.  He’d practically crashed into Ijichi, almost racing past him, but just as quickly recognition flashed in his eyes and he gave the manager a bone crushing hug, forgetting his strength.

The man was alarmed by the affection, awkwardly patting the boy’s back before stepping out of the embrace and nervously laughing.  He leads Yuuta out of the building and towards the sleek black car that’s waiting to take him home.  Yuuta’s positively buzzing the whole ride.  It’s obvious that Ijichi is tired, it’s almost the middle of the night after all, but he does find some amusement in Yuuta’s pure and unfiltered excitement.

However when the boy shouts for a pit stop at a local twenty-four hour grocery shop, the man almost drives the car right off the road, slamming on the brakes and pulling over roughly enough to wake him up completely.  If Yuuta notices the harsh driving maneuvers, he doesn’t say anything.  Simply grabbing his wallet and rushing inside the building.  Ijichi swears all these kids pumped full of muscles and adrenaline would be the death of him.

Yuuta comes back with a full paper bag and a grin, thanking the manager as they continue the drive home without a hitch.

He shouldn’t have the energy he does when they arrive, but Ijichi watches in shock as Yuuta easily carries all of his bags and the delicate groceries and breaks into a full sprint for the dorms, hollering one last thank you as he does.

He’s unceremonious as he drops his things in his room.  There is a certain comfort in being back in a space he can contently call his own, but the welcome home nap he was so eager to take in his own bed could wait.  He leaves his things and is swept away by his own two feet as he hurries down the hall.

There’s the faintest of light peeking out under only one door, all the others tightly shut and seemingly dark inside.  It was past midnight, and there were lessons first thing tomorrow morning.  He’s hesitant for only a second as he reaches the door, but adrenaline takes over again and he’s knocking as quietly as he can.

He can barely hear someone inside, although he doesn’t make out any real words.  Just to be safe, he knocks again.

“H’llo?” A tired voice calls back a little louder this time.

Yuuta’s hand is shaking when he reaches for the latch and slides the door open, just barely peeking inside.

He’d seen (y/n’s) room maybe once in passing, but he hadn’t taken a real glance, and definitely never stepped inside.  Now, he takes it all in with his face lit up in pure astonishment.

It’s decorated with string lights, soft and twinkling slowly here and there.  Just enough to give some ambience without it being overpowering.  Her small television is flickering with the title screen of her adored movie.  She’s curled up in a heap of blankets on the bed, and for a few seconds he thinks she’s asleep.  But her head tiredly lifts to see who her visitor was, and like a switch, she’s full of energy.

“Yuuta!” 

His name falls from her lips in soft awe, and she’s throwing her blankets back and sitting upright, shifting to get out of bed.  Yuuta’s beaming back at her, stepping into the room and turning to slide the door shut behind him.  The others would be quite annoyed if they were to be woken up at this hour.

She’s stumbling a bit towards him, her arms outstretched and her face in a lazy grin.  It takes no time at all for her to cross the room and throw her arms around him to hug him tightly.  Yuuta’s careful to hold his bag of goodies to the side so they don’t get crushed when he reciprocates the tight hug.

He hadn’t hugged her before he left for Africa.  He hadn’t hugged anyone, actually.  Just waved as he bid them goodbye.  Hugging her now feels like something he’d waited for for ages, and finally getting to hold her against him has his heart soaring.

“You’re finally home,” She’s smiling into his chest, and pulls away only so she can grin up at him, properly taking in his pretty eyes and longer hair.  She’s just about to comment on the change in style before she notices the bag in his hand, and focuses on it instead.  “Did you bring gifts?” She asks with a playful smirk.

“Uh- yeah, I mean, sorta,” He stammers, his face getting warmer than he would’ve liked as he opens the bag and glances inside, suddenly apprehensive about handing them to her.  “It’s not from Africa, but they are necessities,” He tells her.

(y/n) raises a brow curiously, before prompting him to show her what he brought.

Yuuta’s sheepish as he reaches in the bag and produces a family size package of lemon flavored oreos.  It seemed like a great idea when he’d picked them up, but now he feels anxiety twisting in stomach as he presents them to her.

“Lemon oreos!” (y/n’s) nothing short of delighted as she takes the package from his hands, already peeling back the plastic to snatch one and take a bite right away.  She hums as she finishes the cookie, her eyes twinkling with happiness as she seals the package again.  “You remembered, thank you.  We’ll definitely finish those tonight” She says with a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I brought my own snack, they’re all yours” He says softly.  She brightens even further at the prospect.

“You really know the way to a woman’s heart, Okkotsu” She teases.  

After months of getting teased over the phone, he finally gets to witness it first hand.  Her cheeks are pink and her eyes shift between his and other spots around the room bashfully.  He wonders if she was always so shy when she’d teased him before.

His smile softens as he reaches into the bag again, carefully holding the other gift as he pulls it from the bag.  (y/n’s) eyes widen and her lips part as she takes in the sight of the beautiful arrangement of flowers he was holding.  It was simple, a pretty bouquet of lilies, lily of the valley, to be specific, she recognized them as the same white flowers scattered around the courtyard.  Her eyes were locked on the bouquet as Yuuta picked around it a bit, making sure every flower was perfect and presentable.

“It’s not, uh, the most expensive bouquet in the world,” He mumbles anxiously once he deems the flowers pretty enough to hand to her.

She looks up at him as though silently asking if they were really for her, her surprise evident in the way she stared at him in soft surprise before she finally took the flowers.  Her movements are slow and so, so careful, not wanting to bend a single stem out of place.

“But, still, um,” With his hands free Yuuta begins to fiddle, scratching at the nape of his neck as he struggles to meet her gaze.  “Y’know, I just wanted to… give you flowers” 

A smile breaks out across her face as she leans close to them to take in a whiff, soothed by the gentle, clean scent that fills her nose.

“I love them,” She murmurs, still staring in awe at the pretty arrangement.  “Can I take a picture?” She asks, and he nods wordlessly.  He finally takes in a breath of air when she turns around to grab her phone from the bed, not having realized he’d been holding it since handing her the intimate gift.

What he doesn’t realize is she’s bounding back over to him with her phone in hand, the camera flipped around so she can take a selfie of her flowers with him very much in it.

“C’mon, smile!” She giggles as she turns her phone sideways, eyeing the image of him with his blushing face and wide eyes, obviously caught off guard.

She snaps the photo when he throws up a peace sign and gives the most relaxed smile he can, his eyes closed and his cheeks undeniably pink.  (y/n) admires it before tucking her phone back into her pocket and clutching the flowers close to her chest lovingly.

“Thank you so much,” She gives them one last affectionate glance before tucking them carefully into a jar on her desk- after she dumped all the pens in it onto her workspace without a second thought.  Yuuta almost laughed at how quickly she made the mess and left it in order for the bouquet to have a safe home.  Once she’s sure they’re safe and sound, she turns back to him again.

It’s funny how out of place he looks standing in her doorway.  Long legs and broad shoulders taking up more space in her room than she would’ve thought.  She’d almost forgotten how large Yuuta was.  Somehow, it made it funnier that he looked so lost.  Like he didn’t want to take a step, and didn’t know what to do with his hands.  She could tell he was trying his best to come across as comfortable as he could, but she could see the wince behind his smile, and his slowly shifting feet.  

He looks out of place now, but she likes having him here.  She likes that he smells like sandalwood, and something sweet like vanilla.  She likes that he’s still holding the paper bag that he’d brought her gift in, not wanting to drop it somewhere in her room like a piece of litter.  She likes that when their eyes meet he smiles, and crinkles form on his eyes that compliment his blushing face.

She likes everything about Yuuta, but right now, she likes that he was the first boy to ever bring her flowers most of all.

So despite her racing heart, she decides to tell him so.

“I’m glad you were the first guy to ever give me flowers” 

Yuuta’s smile drops slightly as his face softens with surprise, eyebrows raising higher when she steps even closer to him.

He’s holding his breath again when she leans onto the tips of her toes and pressing a quick kiss to his warm cheek.  The feeling of her lips brushing over his skin only makes it heat up more, and against his will he lets out a little gasp for air.  (y/n) giggles when she stands flat on her feet again, her nose slightly wrinkled at her amusement at how easily Yuuta flusters.

She’s starting to think to herself that she should test just how much she can fluster him while he’s here, when he’s suddenly the one taking her breath away.

He steps forward to close the distance between them again, dropping the paper bag so he can slide his hands under her jaw, tilting it upwards so he can lean down and kiss her with ease.  A gasp dies in the back of her throat just as his lips touch hers, the hesitation from her surprise only momentary.  

For a soft kiss, Yuuta radiates so much passion her knees feel weak, and her hands are firm as they press into his shoulders, desperate to keep herself upright.  Even his hands are gentle, their touch warm and featherlight against her face.

She longs to press impossibly closer and explore his every last dip and crevice, but for right now, everything is perfect.  His gentleness, his sweetness, him, she couldn’t have hoped for a more lovely first kiss.

Just as the kiss was, he pulls away slowly, forehead still touching hers.  A short sigh escapes him before his lips turn into a smile.  (y/n) watches as his mouth stretches and curls, her own face mirroring the expression, before her eyes flicker up to his to see he’s staring down at her.

“Sorry, I-” He shakes his head, trying to find just the right words to tell her how long he’d been thinking about doing that.  His mind is too foggy so he runs his mouth with abandon.  “I’ve just really wanted to do that” He murmurs.

(y/n) giggles, her face blooming with color at the blatant confession.  It had her heart going haywire even more after the kiss, and any hopes of being the one to fluster him goes out the window.  She’s putty in his hands and he must know it.

“Don’t be sorry,” She whispers back, shyly averting her gaze, not that it does her any favors, he’s still cradling her face and keeping her so close that it felt there was no shying away from him.  “I… I was hoping to talk to you, um, when you got back,” She says, the grin on her face betraying her as she tried to casually mention her feelings for him.  “About, y’know, hanging out more, ‘n stuff” 

Yuuta chuckles at her bashful nonchalance, nodding his head back at her with an excited gleam in his eyes.

“I’d like to hang out more and stuff,” He hums, dropping his hands from her face and nodding to where she’d set up the movie hours earlier.  “Should we start with watching your movie?” 

Excitement flashes in her eyes as she nods her head back at him, before taking his hand and tugging him over to the comfort of her bed.

“Settle in, your mind is about to be blown by literary perfection and cinematic masterpiece.  This is their love child” 

He chuckles, falling into the mattress with her and getting settled against the mountain of pillows at her headboard while she searches her blankets for the remote.  His chest is still vibrating with adrenaline, but as he sinks into a comfortable bed for the first time in months, he finds himself relaxing.

Despite his body feeling like it was the late afternoon, he feels as though he could go right to sleep.

It helps when (y/n) passes out first.  Her body slumps against his and she snores softly against his chest.  It’s such an amusing sight he can’t help but take a photo for her to wake up to in her messages.  He pauses the movie so that they can pick it up from where they left off tomorrow, and then settles deeper into the cozy bed.

The comfort he felt with every text received from her, every phone call to keep him company in the last few months of being away and being alone, it seems almost personified now.  Resting here beside her, simply sharing the same space, Yuuta feels the same wave of relief now.  He can’t help but smile to himself as he settles under the covers, being careful to not disturb her peaceful slumber.

He’s asleep in a matter of minutes.  The warmth of her body so close and the plush mattress working together to put his mind at such ease he didn’t even notice he was tired until he was closing his eyes and drifting off.

It was good to be home.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ fuck it, i love you // fuck it, i love you // fuck it, i love you // i really do ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

a/n: gojo pays the international phone bills obviously so don't be commenting on it

[nicksbestie]

Nooks And Crannies - M. Sturniolo

a series

part five (read part four here)

Summary : You always seem to be somewhere in the bookstore Matt works at, never buying anything, just reading, and while Matt is technically not supposed to talk to customers for so long while he's on the clock, he can't help himself.

Warnings : none!

Word Count : 1038

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : i didn't forget about this little project, don't worry!!

You stared at the bookmark, and the number scribbled onto it, pushing down the anxiety and deciding to send a message.

hi! is this matt?

You didn’t have to wait long for a response, the almost immediate ping of your phone catching you by surprise, indicating a reply.

(XXX)-XXX-XXXX : yes! i assume this is ____?

You quickly saved his contact, simply saved as “matt :)”.

“yes! how are you?” 

The conversation only blossomed from there. You were glad that you lived alone now, because had you still been living at home, your family would have teased you about just how much you were smiling at your phone. You texted Matt nearly nonstop, and you had been enjoying every moment of it. It was just like your normal conversations at The Ivy, sharing book thoughts, or snippets of your day, or even funny jokes. You had received a ton of silly pictures from Matt’s brothers, as they had a habit of stealing his phone and sending random selfies. You found it funny, Matt found it annoying, but either way, you always had something to talk about. Conversation with him was never dry, which you had been slightly afraid of when you had texted him for the first time, and he always replied as quickly as possible, unless he was at work. 

When you weren’t talking, you couldn’t deny the fact that you missed speaking to him. It was really nice to have someone who actually wanted and enjoyed talking to you. It was another couple of days before you could actually take any time off to leave your apartment, and of course, the first place that you went when you left that afternoon was The Ivy. It had been pouring rain, but you couldn’t stand being inside your room for one more minute. So, you pulled on a raincoat, grabbed the umbrella by your door, and began the short walk downtown. Since it was warm out, and the sun was peeking through some clouds, the walk wasn’t miserable, and you actually quite enjoyed it. You had always loved the rain, and since you had an umbrella to keep you dry, you didn’t mind being out walking in it. 

It wasn’t long before you pushed open the door to The Ivy, shaking your umbrella out beforehand. You wrapped it up, putting it into your bag, and moving to a shelf that had some colorful book covers, as they had caught your eye the second you walked in. You noticed that a lot of them were new shipments, having just been placed on the shelves, and you were so excited to pick up a couple of them and pore over the pages. You read the backs of a few of them, and they seemed intriguing, so you held them in your arms as you made your way over to the cafe to get a cup of coffee. Besides, you deserved it after your insanely busy previous couple of days. However, when you got over to the counter, there was already a cup with your name scribbled on it, with it being your usual. 

You went and picked it up, smiling when you noticed Matt waving at you, sitting at one of the tables with his own cup. “Was this you?” You asked, motioning to the cup. He smiled at you, nodding. “I saw you walk in, figured I’d order your usual for you since I was grabbing my own coffee anyways.” You smiled, taking a drink from it, enjoying the way you automatically felt relaxed. “Well, aren’t you sweet.” He grinned, a smirk on his face. “I try.” You read the back of the book that he was reading, nodding in slight interest, and it was at this point that you noticed the name tag being on his shirt.

“Wait, are you working right now?” 

He shook his head, turning a page.

“Nope. I’m on my break, but I took it so late that I actually get off only fifteen minutes after I go back on shift.”

You sat with Matt for the rest of his break, chatting about random things, mostly books and coffee, but also how both of your mornings had gone prior to being at The Ivy. Matt had worked a short mid-day shift, so he hadn’t been there all morning, which he was grateful for. He had picked up a coworker’s shift since they had been searching for coverage due to a family emergency, and he was heading right back home as soon as he got off. You found a good book to read when Matt had to clock back in, and you dove right into it. You were enjoying the gentle atmosphere, and the time flew. You were a fast reader, so you got through a good chunk of the book before Matt got off the clock and found you still at the coffee table, coming over to say goodbye before he left The Ivy. 

“So, where are you heading after you leave here?” 

You softly laughed, shrugging.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. The rain has gotten a lot worse, and I was going to go walk around shops, but I’m not sure I want to go back out into that. I may just stay here for a while until it lets up, but I’m glad I got to see you! Even if it was within your working hours.”

He smiled, removing the name tag off of his shirt.

“Yeah! One of these days, we’ve got to hang out outside of this shop. I do have a personality other than work.” 

“Oh, I’m sure that you do. You’ll have to show me it eventually.” 

Matt looked like he was pondering an idea, so you quietly waited for a response.

“Why don’t you come home with me?” 

You were slightly taken aback, and nervously laughed.

“Damn, you have to ask me out first!” 

Matt smiled, shaking his head.

“Not like that. Just for dinner. You can meet my brothers, we can spend time together outside of where I work, a nice get to know you more night. If you’re not interested, I totally understand!” 

You smiled at him, walking towards the door with him.

“I would love to.”

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[raisedbythetv89]

Listennnnn to be loved is to be seen

Buffy is SURROUNDED by people who project and project and project some more onto her without ever truly seeing her and just trying to force her to be whatever they want/need her to be often leaving her feeling used, abused, and lonely.

And so while yes on the surface the Buffy bot is icky as hell and obviously irl all of us would be rightfully horrified if that happened to us. This is fictional and with a still evil but trying to be good but with no human soul to help guide him on how to be good Spike - who has been rejected and is honoring that rejection and finding a solution to leave real Buffy alone by giving him a place to put all his feelings for Buffy somewhere that isn’t Buffy herself - programs her so well and therefore showing how well he sees and understands her!! NO ONE ELSE could have programmed that exact Buffy that was believable enough to fool her friends. So yes it’s twisted but this is a vampire falling in love with the slayer if you want completely healthy truly go elsewhere lololol but so the bot is used to show just how well Spike truly understands her and more importantly what he loves about her which given the partner she had right before this was Riley who VERY CLEARLY hated how strong she was and that she was the slayer…

spike is like SHE NEEDS A DEDICATED SLAYER FOLDER

HE PUT THE YEAR WILLOW CAME OUT IN HER BIO 😭😭😭😭 angel and riley truly could never in a million years pay close enough attention to the people in her life that Buffy cares about to add info like that

The choice of “make spike happy” instead of something like “pleasing spike” feels significant because it’s able to encompass a wider range of things including her care for her friends since that seems to be the active folder when she’s accessing information on them. Buffy caring about other people makes him happy even though he’s morally grey at best at this moment 😭 AND TWO KISSING PROGRAMS ARE THE VERY FIRST THINGS IN THAT FOLDER 😭😭😭 he doesn’t just “want to fuck her” like people try to claim he wants to love her 🥲 he wants her kisses like I’m gonna throw up from how disgustingly tender and heartbreaking that is

Buffy bot calls both her and Buffy very pretty and tells Giles he “should listen to the other Buffy because she’s very smart”. Spike made sure the Buffy bot was a Buffy that loved herself and valued her intelligence like I cannot even begin to tell you how NONE of this is your run of the mill making just a sex bot of your crush because not being able to have sex with them upsets you. He wants to love her because he knows she needs it as much as he wants to give it to her

We have this moment where Buffy bot has finally found Spike who she’s been looking for and worried about the whole time and seemingly only cares about him and no one else and she sees he’s SEVERELY injured yet when Giles calls for help Buffy bot responds at the same time as Buffy does and runs to his aide leaving Spike like she’s still just so BUFFY at her core even if the superficial aspects have been changed 😭

if we compare this moment to the one in something blue where xander calls out for help in the crypt in an IDENTICAL situation yet ACTUAL BUFFY just continues to make out with Spike when he’s not even injured at all 💀 like Spike didn’t even give Buffy bot the “extra love sick” component Buffy herself exhibits for him on multiple occasions 😭

and of course - WE END WITH THIS KISS AND THE WAY SHE’S FUCKING LOOKING AT HIM BRO 😩 she’s like holy shit he was for real when he said he loved me no one has ever done anything like this for me while simultaneously showing how COMPLETELY loyal and obsessed they are and how well they know and love all of me AND my sister like

‼️I CAN DEPEND ON HIM‼️

So close to death even Xander is feeling sympathy for him yet clocks IMMEDIATELY it’s her and she’s just like hi 🥹 yes it’s me, I really just did that. I see you and what you did for me. HAVE HOPE KEEP TRYING DONT GIVE UP.

If Buffy loves you she forgives you pretty easily and I personally think that’s what we’re seeing here with Spike like kissing him in the same ep she learns of the Buffy bot is low key CRAZY 😹 but truly people who have done less for her have done far worse!!! The bot kept dawn and tara from being taken instead and he proved he would protect both of them with his life and like she already loves him which is why she even went for the kiss she was like REALLY THE SITUATION CALLS FOR IT WHAT’S A GIRL TO DO 🤷🏼‍♀️

[dancingtotuyo]

13. with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: you adjust to life with a newborn. Joel finally gets to tell you something

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed. Spoilerish for TLOU 2

Chapter Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, smidges of angst

Notes: And thus we enter the third and final part of this beloved story. This chapter starts to play with some of the canon of TLOU II as will the rest of Part III

As always, a huge shout out to@janaispunk for beta reading.

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3642

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

Three Years Later

Willa sits at the kitchen table, chin resting in her palms as she stares out the window. It’s cracked open, allowing the chilly fall breeze in as it plays with the dark curls on her head. She’s been there since breakfast, kicking her legs in thoughtful silence with a stack of untouched art supplies at her side. 

You’ve never seen her so still or quiet, keeping an eye on her as you bustle around the house, cleaning and preparing for Joel’s birthday dinner. This is the first year he’s really allowed you to celebrate it. You’ve done small things in the past. A cake after dinner. A small wrapped gift. It’s a hard day for everyone. It’s the day that life as everyone knew it ended, but you have reason to celebrate. He’s growing older, an accomplishment in its own right, the gray in his hair beginning to take over the brown. You like it. It means he’s still here. 

Willa is still kicking her feet at the table when your stomach growls. The clock on the wall reads just after twelve. Carter is at school. Joel has assignments until dinner time. You fix two sandwiches and slice some veggies. You set a plate in front of Willa and then slide into the chair across from her. 

She lets out a deep sigh that seems too big for her small frame to hold. A smile edges at your lips. “What’s wrong, Sweetpea?”

“I don’t know what to make daddy.”

“For his birthday?”

She nods. 

“That’s what you’ve been thinking about all day?” 

“Yeah.”

You smile assuringly at her. “You should eat. It always helps me when I can’t think.”

She lets out another sigh, but picks up the jelly sandwich you made her. Her lips smack as the jelly oozes out of the sides, sticking to her fingers and leaving pink smudges along her cheeks. Willa appears unbothered by it, head nodding back and forth as she eats. 

You manage through most of the meal without intervening until she goes to push back her hair with a jelly soaked hand. “Whoah Whoah Whoah!” You’re out of your seat, grabbing her wrist in the nick of time. She looks almost startled. “Your hand is covered in jelly. I don’t want it to get into your hair.” 

“Oops,” she smiles. “Sorry, Mommy.”

“It’s okay,” You sigh, reaching for the dish cloth in the kitchen sink. The last thing you need to do is work jelly out of a three year old’s hair. “What kind of cake should I bake for Daddy’s birthday?” 

“Chocolate,” Willa grins as you wipe down her hands and mouth.

“That’s your favorite,” you chuckle. 

“Daddy likes it too.”

“Chocolate it is then.” You kiss her cheek. 

She beams up at you and then a light bulb goes off in her eyes and she quickly digs into the meager art supplies you’ve collected over the last several years. You watch her for a few short moments as she bustles forth with clear determination. Then, you bake a birthday cake. 

Midway through, you exit to the living room, only to set the needle on the record player. When you return, Willa’s head bounces back and forth in time as she hums the words she’s already memorized. 

As she finishes her project, Willa jumps down, scurrying out of the room in a flash. You smile to yourself. 

Carter bustles in, throwing his backpack onto the floor with a thud. “Are you denting the walls again?”

His face appears around the corner with a lopsided grin you’d seen on Gabe a thousand times. The ache is dull in comparison to the joy it brings you. “That only happened once.”

You wink at him, tossing him an apple. He catches it with ease, the product of countless hours he and Joel spent outside with a baseball and tattered gloves. 

“How was school?” You smile. 

“Good.” He bites into the apple with a satisfying crunch, before standing on his tiptoes to kiss your cheek. You lean over to close the gap, but it’s admittedly not as large of a gap as it used to be. He’s growing faster than you like.

“Just good?”

He nods, mouth full of apple, but chooses to speak anyway. “I saw Ellie. I invited her tonight.”

You keep your face neutral, far experienced now in keeping the war between Ellie and Joel from your younger children. “What did she say?”

“Maybe.” 

Your eyebrow raises. You can’t keep the hints of surprise from your face, but you’re saved from having to make a response. 

“Carter!” Willa rushes in, out of breath and in a flutter like the world might stop at any second. She pushes her hair out of her face. You really wish she’d keep the hair ties in, but she says it pulls her head. Your daughter meets her brother’s eyes with a serious weight in her eyes. “I need your help.”

“With what?”

She glances at you, like she's not sure you can keep the secret swirling in her little mind. “Daddy’s birthday present.”

“Okay,” Carter shrugs. Willa rushes out in the same flurry with Carter following. 

“Don’t leave the apple core in your sister’s room!” You call after them with only the slam of Willa’s door in response. 

As far as baking cakes, well, it wasn’t your strong suit before the world ended, but you manage. You’ve never received a complaint from the kids, but you know they prefer Maria’s cake to yours. You should have asked her. You slide the iced cake into the fridge just as Joel arrives home. 

“There’s the birthday boy.”

There’s a deep chuckle in response. “The house is suspiciously quiet.”

“Your children are up to no good. I’m sure.”

“My children, you say?” His sturdy arms wrap around your middle and you lean back. “What they do?” His lips play behind your ear. 

“Not sure. They’ve been shut up in Willa’s room for over an hour.”

Joel chuckles. “Perhaps they’re forming a mutiny.”

“I hope not. We’re getting too old for that.” 

“Might just let them take over. Then we could live out our days in peace. Prop our feet up while they get to work.”

You hum softly. “Doesn’t sound half bad.”

“That’s what happens when you get old,” he kisses your cheek. 

“Are you calling me old, Joel Miller?”

“You’re almost 50, Sweetheart. You’re about to join the ranks. I’m just preparing you.”

“I’ve already got the achy back and creaking knees.”

Joel chuckles. “Guess I got to throw you a birthday party too.”

“I think we can just skip that.”

Joel clicks his tongue. “No, we’re gonna celebrate. We’re gonna start doing alot more celebratin.”

“We haven’t even had your birthday party and you want more?” you can’t contain the laughter rising in your chest. 

There’s a deep sense of rightness in this moment. The fears you harbored for so long, melting away with each year that is passed. It’s not completely gone by any means, but it doesn’t keep you from living anymore, embracing what you have. 

He nuzzles into your neck, his scruff scratching softly against your skin. You’ve both aged these past couple of years, be it biology or the two young kids you’re raising, but you see it in yourself now too when you look in the mirror, the way the wrinkles cut deeper into your forehead and around your eyes. And maybe, you’d had a harder time accepting the gray hairs that seemed to multiply each day than you wanted to admit, but you embrace it now. You embrace all signs of aging. Aging is a good thing. 

“I think we should start celebrating everything.”

“Are you having a midlife crisis?”

“Think it’s a little late for midlife… What’s after that?”

You shift a bit in his arms, trying not to dwell on the first thought that that pops into your mind. “I think midlife works.” 

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Joel grins. “It’s not a midlife crisis.”

You hum, a look on your face that says, yeah, sure, okay. 

He laughs in response. “I’m gonna go shower. Doesn’t sound like the kids will let me in to say hi.”

“The door is probably barricaded.”

“Shower it is,” Joel smiles, giving you one last kiss before the stairs creak with his weight. 

Dinner is all but ready, and the kids are still locked in Willa’s room when Joel comes down the stairs. His hair hangs in damp ringlets, longer than he’s let it get before. You have to admit that you’re liking the extra length. 

“Can you go tell the kids they need to come set the table?”

“Time to bring down the barricades, got it.” Joel winks at you. 

You can hear the commotion down the hall, Willa yelling that Joel is not to come in. The back and forth of getting the kids to agree on coming out. Joel’s grunt as Willa inevitably jumps into his arms with zero warning. It’s all familiar and warming. It fills your home with love. 

The kids scurry out. Joel aids Willa in fishing out the silverware while Carter grabs out the plates. Another well rehearsed dance. A slice of normalcy Joel never imagined he’d get again in this lifetime. 

He’s pulling glasses out of the cabinet Carter can’t reach yet when there’s a knock on the door. Joel looks at you questioningly. Tommy and Maria never knock. You shrug. 

Ellie’s nervous face and Dina’s smile greet him when he opens the first door. Joel’s heart leaps in his chest as his jaw drops slightly. “Ellie… hi.”

“Hi.”

“Happy Birthday, Joel,” Dina smiles. 

“Thanks, Dina.” Joel nods but quickly returns his eyes to Ellie. “Thanks for coming.”

She forces her lips into a tight line. “Carter invited me.”

“Still glad you came.” Joel still seems a little bit stunned. “Why don’t the two of you come on in?” He steps aside. Ellie refuses to meet his eyes. Dina pulls her inside. 

He stays by the door, overhearing the surprise in your voice when you spot Ellie. Carter and Willa’s joy at having her here. His heart aches. It always does when he thinks about the distance between them, but she came. That has to be a good sign. 

“I see we got the welcoming committee tonight,” Tommy says as he walks into view, hand in hand with Maria. Elias darts forward, narrowly brushing past Joel. 

“Happy birthday, Uncle Joel!” He says without stopping, more focused on finding his cousins than bothering with his uncle. 

Joel chuckles, accepting Tommy’s hug as he approaches. “I see where I fall on his list of priorities.”

“You’d think he didn’t just see Carter at school.” Maria laughs, offering her own greeting to Joel. 

“Thank you for coming.”

“When do we not show up?” Tommy grins as the three of them make their way inside.

Carter and Willa have already added the extra place settings for Ellie and Dina. Carter slides right next to Ellie, making conversation about the moon and constellations. Joel slides into his chair at the end of the table. You catch the way he looks at Ellie. The way she expertly avoids him. You’re not sure how she does it, seemingly present but expertly able to avoid any and all conversation with Joel. Tommy and Maria’s presence seems to make it easier.

You knew what he did hurt, you just never expected the two of them to go this long in limbo, orbiting each other round in round, never coming to a resolution. As much as Joel looks like someone totaled his pickup and shot his dog when he glances her way, he still manages to enjoy the night. Ellie being here, whether she talks to him or not, is the greatest gift he could have asked for.  

You take his hand, squeezing it gently. He presses it to his lips, winking at you playfully. The balancing act can be tiring, but he’s simply happy tonight. 

You’re not offended when the cake on the plate of the adults remains mostly uneaten. The cake is dense and dried out. The kids don’t seem to mind.

“Can we do presents now?” Willa asks, frosting sticking to her face in multiple places. You can only imagine how sticky her fingers are. 

“Wash your hands first,” you say.

Willa nods, sliding out of her seat and rushing out of the room. 

“Can I get anyone anything to drink? Water? Tea?”

“Coffee?” Joel grins. You have been able to rangle up beans each year for his birthday, except for this year. 

You shake your head. “Unfortunately, not this year.”

“No coffee? That’s it, party’s over folks.” He playfully hits the table with his palms, winking at you. 

He receives a smack to the back of the head, and a deep chuckle greets your ears. You smile, setting the kettle on the stove. He’s happy and relaxed, bubbling over with a calm joy, pure and untarnished. You like this side of him. It’s like a piece of the first version of Joel you knew. The same laughter and smile Sarah pulled from him long before the world dug its ugly claws into either of you. It’s only become more common in your home over the years. 

Maria joins you as you start to wash up a few dishes while you wait for the kettle to boil. Both of you watch the table with keen eyes as your family sits around it, complete for once. Joel and Tommy chat about their patrols. There’s been an uptick in infected. They’re worried about a colony coming in. Dina and Ellie engage with the boys at the other end of the table, some debate about what happened at kickball last week. 

“You better not be washing dishes, Sweetheart. That’s my job,” Joel says. 

“It’s your birthday.” 

Joel raises an eyebrow at you. “You cooked, and baked a cake.”

“More like attempted,” Tommy teases. You stick your tongue out at him like the mature 49 year old woman you are. 

Once the team is ready, you set a mug in front of Joel. He thanks you before his brow furrows. “That’s not my mug.”

You know he’s talking about the owl mug, the one you push to the back of the cabinet because you think it looks at you funny. “No, it’s your new mug,” You smile. “Happy birthday.”

Joel picks it up, inspecting it closer. It’s slightly faded but otherwise in pristine condition. Two fawns frolic against the picturesque forest that’s delicately painted along the outside. His eyes narrow slightly at you, a playful volley of looks and unspoken words passing between you. 

Joel chuckles, stealing a chaste kiss from your lips. “Thank you.”

“You can use the owl one when I’m not around.”

“So never then?” 

“I mean, ideally, yes.” 

“As sweet as this is,” Tommy says, interrupting the two of you. “I’m afraid we came empty handed.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t expect anything less. Besides, I’ve got everything I need right here.” He looks around the table that includes everyone in the world he loves, aside from Willa who is still busy cleaning herself up. 

“You’re going soft in your old age,” Tommy smacks his brother on the back. 

Joel shrugs. “Happens to the best of us I guess.”

“Daddy! I’m ready!” Willa calls, bursting into the room, small package clutched in her hands as she rushes to his side.

Joel picks her up with a slight groan, setting her on his lap. “I’m ready, Wildflower.”

She laughs, handing him the box as she pushes her curls from her face. “Carter helped too.”

“I’m excited to see what it is,” Joel smiles, attention solely split between his children as he carefully opens the box. 

He’s confused at first, pulling the delicate construction from its box, some combination of paper and old cardboard carefully put together. It takes a second, but then he registers the small arrows fastened into a minute and hour hand against the background. Carter’s oversized numbers unevenly circled around in one to twelve. 

“It’s a new watch,” Willa grins brightly. “Cause yours is broken.” She lifts his wrist as if to show him the broken watch for the first time. 

You catch the shine in Joel’s eyes and the bobble of his throat. “Thank you. It’s a very nice watch.”

“It latches too,” Carter chimes. “So you can actually wear it.”

Joel inspects it further, seeing where the kids had carefully cut holes in the band and managed to create a fasten. 

“Mommy can help you,” Willa says. 

You smile, leaning forward to fasten it to Joel’s wrist, right above his first watch, the one Sarah fixed for him. You’re careful not to break it. It’s not the most secure thing in the world, but Joel beams with pride as he shows it to Tommy and Maria. 

“Do you like it?” Willa asks. 

“I love it.” Joel smiles, squeezing his daughter tight. 

Joel falls beside you on the couch with a content sigh, letting his head fall back and his arm across your shoulders as he does. You smile, leaning into him. “You enjoy your birthday?”

“I’m getting too old. Reading that book about put me to sleep.” 

You laugh, pulling a blanket around your shoulders to stave off the cool air that drifts in through the cracked window behind you. “It’s a good thing I like you old.”

Joel hums, kissing your forehead softly. “Thank you for doing so much today.”

“It’s not like I don’t cook dinner most nights.”

“You baked a cake.”

You snort. “Attempted to make a cake.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first birthday where you messed up the cake.”

You groan, images of the cake you and Sarah attempted to bake for Joel’s 30th birthday flashing in your memory. It had looked nice enough, but tasted like baking soda. Joel chuckles. 

“Well,” You let out a soft sigh, holding back the smile that bites at your lips. “Guess it’s a good thing I have a back up plan.”

Joel’s brow creases. “Back up plan?”

“You are getting old,” you tease, your own mouth watering at the subtle cinnamon tinged air. “I thought you would have smelled it by now.”

Joel stops a second, paying extra attention to his senses. His lips tip up almost immediately as he clocks it. “Is that…”

“My mom’s peach pie.” You grin. Her peach pie filling had been legendary on the block and she’d passed along the recipe early on in your life. You made it each year as the peaches ripened, but you had taken care to freeze extra filling for Joel’s birthday this year. “You really expect me to bake a cake without a back up plan?”

Joel laughs again. “I love you.”

“Only for the peach pie.”

“Well duh.” He pulls you closer, leaving a sweet kiss on your lips. 

You laugh, returning the kiss. “It’ll be ready in about 20 minutes.”

“Perfect… enough time for me to give you something.” Joel reaches down, grabbing a flat package, wrapping in a cloth from under the couch.

“But it’s your birthday.”

“And I like seeing you happy.”

You roll your eyes as he places the thin, square gift in your hands. Your brow knits together as you pull the wrap from it. White corners catch your eye and with two men standing in a doorway. Fleetwood Mac reads centered above them.  A small gasp leaves your mouth. You haven’t heard this album in years. Your grandma’s copy had been badly scratched and warped before the outbreak and no one in Jackson seemed to own a copy. 

“Finally found that the other day. I haven’t played it yet, so I’m not sure about the condition- but it looked like it hadn’t warped too badly.”

“Turn it on.” You grin brightly, eagerly putting it back into Joel’s hands. Your body thrums with excitement. The songs you haven't heard in so long play in the back of your mind as Joel pulls the vinyl record from the sleeve and places it on the old record player in the corner of your living room. 

Static fills the speakers at the needle drops. You both wait with baited breath for the music to start. Monday Morning plays starts without warning, causing you to both jump slightly. A laugh tumbles from your mouth, eyes sparkling with joy as they meet Joel’s. He’s got a similiar joyful expression. 

“It’s much more lively than your version,” you say. You haven’t heard the recorded version in over two decades though Joel’s rendition is still a constant in your home. Willa calls it her song. 

Joel laughs, walking back over to you. “I doubt Willa will even recognize it.” He holds out his hand. “Come on.”

Your brow knits together as you take his hand. He tugs you to your feet. You secure the blanket around your shoulders as Joel leads you toward the front door and onto the porch. The cool September air greets you. The music filters through the open windows as the opening track fades into the smooth opening of Warm Ways.

“What are you doing?”

”Dancin.” He grins wrapping his arms around you as he begins to sway. 

You lean into his embrace, warm between the blanket on your shoulders and his torso against yours, head resting on his shoulder. You sway to the music, eyes closed. Joel’s head rests against yours, his chest rumbles gently as he hums along to the melody, lulling you as close to bliss as you think you’ve ever been. 

You nuzzle further into his neck. “I love you, Joel.”

He smiles, kissing your cheek. Both your eyes stay shut, relishing in the touch of the other. “Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that, Sweetheart.”

“Good.”

Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa @tobethlehem

[belovedstarrs]

new years day.

• pairing : yuuta x afab!reader

• tags : mdni, smut, creampie, drunk!reader, drunk!yuuta, afab!reader, aged up au

• a/n : heres a rare drabble for new years!! i dont write much due to me starting a project then i kinda just forget about it and/or have no more motivation to finish but i was able to get this done in one sitting 💪💪

• wc : 488

• inspired by new years day by taylor swift

you had just regained consciousness. you quickly looked at the clock 1:06 am. then it hit you what you were doing. yuuta was pounding into you with no mind. you both were drunk as hell and you dont remember how you got yourself here. you were at makis new years party with yuuta and a few guys were getting too close to you and yuuta didnt like that, so what ended you up in this predicament? you felt the coil soon to snap as yuuta kept pounding, squelching could be heard as the slaps from skin on skin burned, only for a quick second. you felt closer to your high as yuuta kept going balls deep, back and fourth.

"yuu-" you panted "im close" short, hot breaths that only made him go faster.

you soon felt yourself orgasm and yuuta followed suit, hitting his orgasm as well as all his cum shot into you. he pumped a few more times but slower and more sloppy, he fell on top of you soon after. you looked around to see where you were at, makis room. your gonna have to apologize for this later but nows not the time. you felt your eyes get heavy as yuuta was probably already asleep on top of you. you just sighed and fell asleep with him.

it was the morning. you felt yuuta run his hands through your hair a few times while lightly saying your name.

"y/n.. its time to get up. we have to go soon."

your eyes fluttered open as you looked at yuuta. you quickly sat up and regretted it quickly as nausea filled your stomach, here comes the inevitable hang-over. you drank too much last night and regret it horribly. you look at the time on the clock. 7:29 am.

you slowly got up and put your clothes back on. you walked out of makis room with yuuta and went down the stairs. there were a few girls carrying their heels. glitter all over the floor with candle wax from freshly blown out candles. you decided to help clean a few bottles on the floor before the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and cherry blossom reeked and you started to get a headache from the mix. you leaned your head on yuutas shoulder as you two walked to the front entrance.

you grabbed your own heels from the front entrance and put them on as your taxi arrived. you and yuuta walked out and got inside as he told the taxi driver to your house. yuuta held onto your hand in the back seat and squeezed it one, two, three times as you spoke to him.

"yuuta, please dont ever become a stranger to me. i want to spend my midnights with you."

he looked at you with a gleam in his eye as he muttered to you

"never, never would i leave you y/n."

made by @belovedstarrs do not copy or use in any way without permission

[httpsserene]

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐬 (𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠!) - 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. idiots in love. mild angst. fluff. happy ending. attempt at humor. plot with a side of porn. the timeline is mostly accurate. max verstappen is an oblivious idiot. daniel ricciardo is an obvious idiot. 5+1 things (in a way). the three musketeers: charles, pierre, and lando. light praise kink. light dom/sub undertones. mild orgasm delay/denial. 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 9.5k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: max verstappen x daniel ricciardo

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: so....how's life been treating y'all while i disappeared for two months :) ? no, um, sorry for ghosting you guys; i know, i'm surprised that i didn't forget my login info. life started being life for a good amount of time and i got really sucked into school and work. aside from the boring everyday stuff, i've got an internship this summer (yay!), i'm pretty sure i have a bit of a mutual-crush with this boy in my morning lecture, and i've started playing final fantasy sixteen.

anyways, this is my longest work ever! and i'm dedicating it to one of my sweetest betas, bianca. you requested this long before my disappearing act in december, and i told you i was nearly finished with a 6k-word fic for your request. to make up for my unexplained absence, i rewrote the entire thing into a near ten-thousand word feel-good masterpiece.

i hope this fic is of good enough quality for all of you wonderful f1-stans to forgive me because, i'm back, and hopefuily here to stay lol. enjoy reading, loves &lt; 3.

requested & written by/for @biancathecool

join taglist | feedback & requests | table of contents↻

milton keynes, red bull racing headquarters, pre-season 2023

daniel looks happy. max doesn’t know why that surprises him—maybe he’s projecting his emotions (his therapist says he does that quite often) onto the man. the surprise makes sense though, max thinks, as he watches the australian chatter away with the engineers, the largest toothy smile spread across his face like he never left red bull behind in 2018. if it were max who had gone through the mclaren bullshit along with not having a guaranteed seat for the upcoming 2023 season, and he had to settle for a third driver position: he would scourge the world with his fury.

but: it’s not max, it’s daniel. it’s daniel, who was warmly welcomed back into navy blue (papaya did not suit him), it’s daniel, who doesn’t snap at the marketing team when they ask how he’s “coping” with not being on the grid. it’s daniel, who becomes friends with checo easily. it’s daniel, who’s scheduled to fulfill the pr activities that the two red bull drivers refuse to complete. it’s daniel, who has clocked in insane hours in the sim and factory while max has been enjoying his off-season. 

it’s daniel, who hasn’t shown any signs of disappointment about not having a seat this year.

if he won’t show or admit it, max will. having a race weekend without daniel doesn’t feel right. max knows this, even though the season hasn’t started yet: he’s going to be miserable. it’s like when daniel left him the team. of course, max had pushed daniel away after he signed with renault. what was he supposed to do? react calmly with the emotional intelligence he didn’t have? max thought the man hated him when he didn’t tell him that he was leaving before the news was released. 

regardless, instead of the australian leaving, this time around he’s coming back, which max had originally believed was the best thing to ever happen. he’s not so sure of that anymore. daniel belongs in the car chasing him with the smell of burning rubber and petrol surrounding them. max doesn’t appreciate how the smell of race tracks has already disappeared from him. he could tell it was missing when daniel made a show of giving max the biggest hug as soon as he stepped foot in the factory.

maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness.

“max, kid,” christian waves a hand in front of max’s face with an unimpressed look, “did you hear a single thing i said or were you too distracted by the sight of daniel in red bull gear again?”

the tips of max’s ears redden, and he snaps his head away from where it was turned to watch daniel’s constant smile, to face his team principal. max doesn’t know what he was thinking; his crush is going nowhere.

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑.

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35

© httpsserene 2023

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You would have the biggest chance of knowing out of all the people I know, do you have any insight as to why Ortho’s gears only ever show either his eyes or his mouth at any given time?

I've actually talked about it before! You can read that post here. There's also this follow-up post. To summarize, no official reason is given as to why robo!Ortho is not depicted with his full face. Many fans theorize that only robo!Ortho's eyes or mouth (but not both at the same time) are visible because it pains Idia to stare at the "full face" of his deceased younger brother. Indeed, the only instance we see of robo!Ortho's full naked face is at the end of book 6, when the "true" Ortho speaks with Idia one last time after his OB. However, that's not the face of the robo!Ortho we know and love so this doesn't really count.

I think that theory holds only if Idia designed all of Ortho's gears... which is patently false. Fairy Gear was designed by Crewel, and it is highly unlikely that Idia tells his traumatic backstory to professors (especially since he doesn't seem particularly close with the aggressive, assertive Crewel). Ortho designs his Rabbit Gear himself while visiting Clock Town for White Rabbit Fest; Idia is not physically around, so Ortho has no diegetic reason to intentionally design the Rabbit Gear to obscure half of his face. Finally, Cerberus Gear was designed by his mother, STYX' Chief Engineer. It is made very clear that Mrs. Shroud is warm, bubbly, loves robo!Ortho, and considers him like her third son, so it makes less sense to project Idia's anxieties about looking into the face of a dead family member onto Mrs. Shroud too.

Though perhaps less emotionally impactful, I think it's more likely that this design choice was made not with consideration to Idia's in-universe trauma, but rather as an aesthetic choice + to differentiate OG!Ortho from robo!Ortho. Again, this is probably why we see OG!Ortho's full face at the end of book 6 but never robo!Ortho's full face.

[theemporium]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJGMWPep/

This literally screams max and trouble…

What if trouble has had some issues with her family (not me projecting) and she just has a off day, possibly had a argument or something and she just needs to be held like this 😭😭🙏🙏

PLEASE THIS IS SO🥹thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It wasn’t unusual for Max to be awake before you.

Between a lifetime of early starts and a training schedule that had been drilled into his head, Max was more than familiar with early morning starts. Regardless of whether it was a race week or not, his body clock woke him up just after dawn and he was used to it by now.

When he was in Monaco, his morning routine would be the same. He’d wake up, he would press a kiss to your forehead and then go get ready for his morning run. He would only have a protein shake, because he likes to make breakfast with you when he returned, and he would only take his phone, keys and earphones with him.

It also wasn’t unusual for you to still be asleep when he returned. You were never a morning person, and usually you’d wake up an hour or so after he left (always claiming it felt wrong when he wasn’t in bed beside you), but sometimes he would find you still fast asleep. And he would usually find the most annoying way to wake you up because he was lonely without you.

However, when he noticed the half-made smoothie on the kitchen counter with you nowhere in sight, he was confused.

“Trouble?”

He walked deeper into the flat, taking in the sliced fruits and the cutting board left on the kitchen counter. A frown formed on his face when he couldn’t hear a single movement around the house.

“Schatz? Are you okay?”

When he received no answer again, his concern spiked and he could his feet frantically moving to find you. The bedroom was the first place he checked, and it was exactly where he found you.

You were curled on top of the duvet, knees clutched to your chest as your body wracked with silent sobs. Your eyes were red and glossy, your cheeks were puffy, and something in Max’s chest broke at the sight of you.

“Baby,” he murmured softly before rushing to your side, kneeling beside the bed as his fingers softly swiped away the tears streaming down your face. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Trouble.”

“My mum called.”

Three words, but they said more than enough to Max. He knew your relationship with your mother was rocky, you had been fairly open to him about it. But he knew you also hoped that maybe with some distance—maybe with you in Monaco—it would improve. And judging by your teary face, he guessed it hadn’t worked out like you hoped.

He didn’t say anything as he climbed onto the bed beside you, pulling your body as close to him as he could as he wrapped his arm around your curled up body. He ran his hand up and down your back, tickling it slightly just the way he knew you liked it.

“I’m here for you,” he murmured as he pulled you closer. “And I love you, no matter what.”

“I love you too,” you whispered in a raspy voice as you nuzzled yourself further into his embrace.

It hurt. And it would still hurt for a very long time. But something about it all felt easier when you were in his arms, when you knew he was right beside you.

.

[marisol-holme]

The retired good girls guide for writing

I haven’t always been able to understand myself. 

I never felt like I was able to clock pure basic needs. Couldn’t tell if I was hungry or thirsty. I finished my meals early, preferring to always feel full, in a silent critic of my mother and father’s controlling rule over my life. A few bites of fuck you always left on the plate. I liked to see how far I could push it. How little I could drink, sleep, or eat, and still function. A true desert island scenario would see me lasting years; I had inadvertently trained myself for it. Except my desert island was more devoid of emotional fulfilment and attention. 

I had to get creative. I developed some interesting tendencies, sure. But mostly I just wanted to escape. Now my parents never went out, and my internal world was already tumultuous at best, so I did what anyone would do and read. I read voraciously. The ability to turn off my hunger had seeped into all areas of my life. A fugue state dissociation through most of my early years through to adolescence. But I was able to come alive when I was reading. When I read, it was like my first breath. Hungry. I could imagine these worlds and built them up easily, colourfully within my mind’s eye. I'd picture the strong female characters that I admired. I’d taste food, hear music. It was the only time I was ever able to really live, before I had to go downstairs and pretend to eat.

Unwittingly, my upbringing fostered just the correct environment for me to develop a writer’s hunger. Because a writer is always a reader before they grow mad to write. I grew mad fast. I had to. I had to create worlds for me to escape into, away from all the shouting and fighting. Alchemise what I’d read into something new and original. It helped that I was an avid daydreamer, although a psychiatrist might call me a maladaptive daydreamer, but it only ever occurred to me when I was bored. Parallel to this, I grew into shame, so what I wrote I would throw away. I sadly have none of my early works. They are long decomposed into sub-atomic and absorbable waste, probably seeped into a water system somewhere and live inside all of you. Yuck. Not even my best work. 

Then I grew up and I had no dreams because I was not hungry. I hadn’t picked up a book in a long time. I dabbled with things that made me feel warm. Partying and shallow conversations. Grotty pubs and sticky clubs. Good friends made me feel a good kind of warm. But it took me a long time to find my way back to literature. Through a work stint as a Nursery Practitioner, I found my way back into writing. You see, at the nursery we had to send updates to parents all about what their children were getting up to. I enjoyed this task and wrote the children’s days like stories. Descriptive and alive. I’d got the bug and the bug had bit me. I didn’t last long once I had started writing again and I quickly found myself working at the Ideas Foundation. 

Through my new employer, I was encouraged to trial as much as possible to find out what I enjoyed doing. I was also very privileged to have access to several creative professionals who genuinely wanted to help and mentor those younger than them. Mentors can see all your ducks and help you to get them in a row. My ducks were all over the place and needed very graceful guidance. You push my ducks too much and, well, they explode. Poof!

Speaking to seasoned professional copywriters, I was able to glean their persistent journey into the profession. The confusion I once had around my goals has seemed to have dissipated. The ability to feel hungry for life and understand myself has only grown. My spark is back. 

The excitement and giddiness I feel when I think about myself as a writer is immense. The energy can fuel me for days. I look to the bottom left of my documents and the number of words that can pour out onto a page grows and grows with each project I set myself. The possibilities as a writer seem endless from this perspective. 

I understand that there is a lot more to these dreams that simple want. I must be focused. Persistent. Take up the offers of guidance from those around me. Accepting critic and moving towards goals. But the potential is there. I understand myself a little better. I value my work a little more. Hopefully, one day in the not-so-distant future a book of mine might get thrown away and end up decomposing in the damp soil into tiny fragments that find their way into us. At least that work will be better and born of something other than the child’s will to survive and create. That would make me feel okay.