#or he’s suppose to be if i follow through

[g0dlyunsub]

it takes two.

spencer deals with a lot on the field, but nothing can prepare him for when he’s stuck inside a locker with you.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: 18+ due to sexual themes but no smut, slight claustrophobia triggers

word count :: 2.2k

author’s note :: inspired by a scene from s9e23, i'm imagining spencer in a fitted collared shirt and tie, reader wears a skirt

accompanying song :: stuck between by dutch criminal record

“nothing’s showing up on vicap. i’ve cross-checked records against everything you’ve mentioned, sir, but there’s literally nothing. zilch,” you hear garcia let out an exasperated groan as she ferociously taps at her keyboard. 

you watch as hotch kneads the skin between his brows with growing impatience while morgan starts to pace around the room. you’re not doing any better yourself, your stressed-out fingers threatening to tug at the strands of hair neatly holding your ponytail together. 

it’s too frustrating. the leads are clearly there, but your team is lacking the final puzzle piece to complete the profile, to confirm that it’s someone in the department that’s deliberately injecting themselves into the investigation.

“your answer is probably written down on paper. ugh, i hate when bad guys try to act all smart,” garcia fumes, and sulks as she gives an apologetic wave from her side of the screen. hotch nods, relays a thank you, and cuts the call before rounding the whole team together.

“think about it, those two are the perfect scapegoats. all of these agents have everything to lose, so why not just blame them? they’ve been in and out of cells already, and it makes perfect sense to craft a narrative that’ll point fingers at them,” morgan starts, making small gestures as he speaks with his signature cadence, topped with a honeyed rasp.

“and they’ve got all the authority to influence the public’s opinion,” jj nods in agreement.

“we need to try to get those two to talk again, but we also have to take extra precautions. jj and prentiss, go interview them one more time to see if they’ll spill any names. morgan, i need you to work with garcia to look for other possible leads. reid and l/n, go to the records room to review the files of the agents working with us. dave and i will try to hold down the fort,” hotch instructs, nodding at each of you as he rolls out the orders. 

“and try not to draw suspicion. if all else fails, say that you need to run to the bathroom,” rossi adds with a wink. it always amazes you how calm the italian agent is during such high-pressure situations, a trait you’ve grown to immensely appreciate.

“shall we?” you say as you nudge spencer, and he hums back in response. you bid a wish of good luck to emily and jj and traverse the hallway to the records room with the doctor, your heels clacking beside the cushioned steps of his slightly worn converses. 

after looking left and right to make sure no one’s around, spencer opens the door. you silence the sounds of your heels as you follow inside, and let the bolt of the lock plunge into the frame by slowly closing the door. 

“alright, you take the left, i’ll take the right,” you whisper, and spencer gives you a thumbs up. 

the two of you work silently and as fast as possible, sifting through the piles of records that lie on the tables and beside the cabinets. you feel your heart jump into a cartwheel every time a sheet of paper slips out of the manila folders, the sounds of rustling and creasing setting you on edge. 

“i found mcgregor and drew, but i don’t think it’s either of them,” spencer declares with a voice that isn’t supposed to sound loud at all, but it feels hundreds of decibels higher than the bare whisper you spoke with earlier. 

“okay, i found weaver and lee, but they don’t fit the profile either. let’s continue looking for the other two,” you call back. 

spencer walks over to you and kneels beside your left to help you with your search. once you spread the folders on the floor, you spot one of the two remaining files, and spencer soon finds the other. you’re about to turn through the sheets in the folder when the doorknob starts to shake, startling the both of you.

“shit. spence,” you blurt as spencer takes his file in one hand and grabs yours with the other, and shoves them into an open drawer. after he slides the compartment back with his careful and nimble fingers, you grab his arm and squeeze into a spare locker. you barely manage to seal the opening shut in time.

you could say that it was quick thinking that saved your and spencer’s cover, since the door jiggles and thrusts open a mere second later.

you never would’ve imagined that the day would come when you would draw air directly from spencer’s breaths, let alone enclose yourself in the same room as him. 

and yet here you are, perched on top of spencer’s knee, the scratchy fabric of his trousers resting under the hollow space of your pencil skirt and between your legs. his other leg presses against your side of the wall with an uncomfortable bend, while his chin sits an atom’s width from your forehead.

it’s a nonnegotiable consequence that comes with his tall figure, the way his clothed knee has to rub against your inner thighs under the draped fabric.

one of your hands lies awkwardly on his chest while the other is on his thigh, right above the knee that’s using you for leverage. your attention immediately shifts to your left when you see the rays of the intruder’s flashlight scope through the room. 

you stop mid-exhale when the light pours through the gaps of the locker, casting shadows on spencer’s face and your body. he looks stressed, anxiously wetting his lips with closed eyes, face turned away from you.

and he looks overwhelmed. rapid bursts of inhales and exhales fire from his body, likely due to the collar of his shirt being bound tightly around his neck with the tie. with shaking fingers, you slowly reach for his tie, waiting for approval to loosen it. 

you feel his forehead bury into the cave of your shoulder, and he whispers his desperate ask into your ear: “please.”

despite the lack of light around you, you’re able to locate the small end of his satin tie, and you tug lightly. the knot unfurls as you pull, and spencer lets out a small sigh of relief before breathing a low thank you in your ear.

as this happens, you hear the intruder surf through the piles of papers, unlocking drawers and lifting boxes left and right. hurry, hurry, hurry, you pray desperately in your head. beads of sweat start to form at your temple and threaten to fall down to your exposed neck, which happens to be situated directly in spencer’s line of sight.

“come on,” you hear the guest in the room complain, angrily flipping through papers and slamming the cabinets. you think it’s finally time for him to leave when you hear the high-pitched ring of his phone. 

but your eyes widen when instead of heading to the door, he makes strides towards the locker right across from yours, and leans his back against it before holding the phone up to his ear. holy shit.

“jensen speaking,” he says with a gruff voice, and plays with the button of his flashlight so it turns on and off spontaneously. as the light flickers, it dimly shines the space inside your locker. 

spencer turns his head to meet your eyes, a panicked expression covering his face. you’re about to mouth a small sorry for the helpless situation you’ve dragged him into, but just as you’re about to do so, spencer’s trousers slide against your legs, creating friction so unbearable that you let out a squeak. 

you freeze, looking up to see spencer’s eyes flash warningly. he instantly clasps your mouth with his hands to cover any further sound from escaping your lips, but with no form of support to maintain his position, he starts to slip, and his shirt lightly skids against the locker’s slippery walls. this is somehow even worse for you, because spencer’s knee starts to dig further up your legs and into your cotton underwear, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

luckily for the both of you, jensen seems to be distracted by whatever words are being spewed from the other end of his phone call to pay any mind to your suppressed yelps. 

“i think their agents might be on to us,” he scowls, and you watch from the corner of your eye as he tosses the last of his files into a box and opens the adjacent locker to ram it inside.  

“yeah, i’ll try to stall them for as long as i can. they don’t know what they’re getting themselves into.” 

jensen curses and promptly ends the call, returning his phone into the pocket of his shirt. he finally walks to the door, sighing as he twists the knob and steps out. the two of you lie in wait for an additional three minutes before trying anything. 

“i think we’re good,” spencer huffs, finally opening the locker door with a thud as the sounds of steel clashing against steel echo throughout the air. 

“yeah,” you nod, taking a breath to collect yourself as you step out. you watch as spencer runs a hand through his hair and moves his fingers down to adjust his tie. 

he returns the stare, his adam’s apple bobbing when he eyes your wrinkled shirt and scrunched up pencil skirt – which looks more like a mini-skirt with how it sits right below your hips.

“i um, i need some air. how about you?” spencer asks at last, clearing his throat. you bite your lip when he starts to brush the dust off his thighs and knees, the moments of earlier flooding into the back of your mind like the warmth pooling between your thighs.

“yeah, i could use some fresh air too,” you respond breathily, averting your eyes and focusing instead on smoothing out your shirt and retying your loosened ponytail. when you’re done, you turn around and stagger to the door, not looking twice to see if spencer’s following you. an intense flush spreads across your cheeks, and your only viable path of escape is to the bathroom.

“you, um, missed a spot,” you hear from behind, and you follow spencer’s gaze to see that he’s referring to the back of your skirt.

“oh,” you say as embarrassment swamps you, and you hurriedly pat at the fabric. “does that look better?”

“it’s still folded there. if you want, i can- may i?” 

the question tumbles from his pretty lips and messes with your head. his hand hovers right around your waist, the same way yours lingered on his tie as you waited for his consent. and his softening eyes. his slightly smoldering gaze looks so innocent and alluring at the same time, your heart starts to feel heavy with the weight of desire. 

note to self: never wear a pencil skirt again.

“please,” you utter like a silent prayer, and mentally prepare yourself to endure the test of his fingers against your skin.

as soon as he receives your word, his hand lightly brushes against your thigh and trails down your skin. he takes the hem of your skirt and pulls down, giving several tugs before releasing the stretched garment. 

he clears his throat when you don’t move even after he’s retracted his hand.

“all good now.” 

spencer’s words drown out your thoughts and snap you back to reality. he’s already standing by the door, holding it open for you with a patient smile.

“thanks,” you say as you walk out and rub your hands together, nervous for what you’re about to say next. “spencer, um, i’m so sorry about that whole ordeal, it was really unprofessional of me to drag you in there, i wasn’t thinking when i-”

“you did the right thing,” spencer interrupts your ramble with the shake of his head, and his flawless smile pulls at your heartstrings.

“i would’ve pushed you in there if you hadn't. that door’s the only way in and out if you don’t count the windows,” he continues, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walks you to the elevator.

“oh,” you shyly murmur back, your cheeks flushing with a shade of bright pink as his words pour over you like warm water. he would’ve pushed you in there if you hadn’t?

“yeah, but how about we try a bigger locker next time?” spencer almost reads your mind as he half-mindedly jokes, causing you to drop your jaw in shock. he doesn’t acknowledge your reaction, however, because he starts to dial rossi’s number on his cell.

“by the way, the uh, new look suits you. the grey skirt and all,” spencer says with a lopsided smile before he raises a hand to excuse himself and call rossi. you’re saved the embarrassment of responding when rossi accepts the call, but your palms are already profusely sweating at his compliment.

note to self: maybe wear the pencil skirt again.

[kisskuni]

pet names

↳ pet names that the demon brothers like to call you by. [all brothers x gn!reader]

tags: just fluff! + pet names lol. ‘doll’ is used once, i wouldn’t consider it feminine but take it as you will. otherwise gn :)

notes: first fic on this blog heheh. reblogs are super appreciated, please and thank you <3

lucifer ━━━

a gloved hand runs through black hair, the eldest brother glaring at the paperwork covering his desk. you wonder for a brief moment if he thinks the look he’s giving it will force it away.

“stressed?” you ask him, a teasing tone to your voice.

he hums in discontent. “something like that.”

you straighten from your spot leaned against the door frame and walk over to him. your hands come up to his shoulders and rub at the muscles there, hoping to bring him some sore of relief.

“need any help?” you ask.

“i’m alright, darling, but thank you.” though still clearly stressed, he offers you a small smile.

mammon ━━━

“you will not believe what i just got!”

mammon walks into your room previously unannounced, dorky smile painting his face. he holds up two slips of paper, waving them in front of your face. it takes you a moment to read the writing.

“ooh, are those tickets? for that movie i wanted to see?”

he beams at your excitement. “i’m the best.”

“yeah, you are,” you smile and reach for the tickets in his hands. “thank you so much.”

“anything for you, doll.”

leviathan ━━━

“hey, can you—“ levi speaks to you, but frowns at his game. “no, i can’t heal you. there are two other characters who can.”

you watch him curiously, watch as he rolls his eyes at the person he’s playing with. “what’s up?”

he takes one side of his headset off. “i’m sorry. can you grab me my water? it’s on my nightstand.”

“oh, sure.” you reach over from where you’re tucked comfortably into his bedsheets and grab the water bottle on his nightstand. “here.”

he turns around him his chair to grab the water bottle you toss at him. he catches it easily and smiles at you. “thank you, honey.”

satan ━━━

“are you comfy?”

you sit upright with a small yelp. you look around, gathering your thoughts back. what was supposed to be a quick lie-down on the couch in satan’s room turned into a nap, apparently.

“i- uhm. yeah.” you answer quickly. one hand comes up to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“you can rest if you’re tired, my love. i have some reading i wanted to catch up on anyway.” satan says, moving to sit beside you.

you take a deep breath and ponder the offer for a moment. instead of responding, you simply lay back down and use his lap as a pillow. he’ll get the idea eventually.

asmodeus ━━━

the squeal asmo let out was beyond exstatic. he clasped his hands together, smiling ear to ear.

“ah, i’m so excited.” he said, running off to some corner of his room.

“is it really that exciting?”

asmo frowns at you rather dramatically. he feigns a look of offense and continues to his closet, you following a few steps behind.

“oh, i love how this would look on you, cutie.”

you smile fondly at the nickname and continue to watch as he picks out various clothes for you to try on.

beelzebub ━━━

“y’know… doesn’t matter how strong i am, you’re a demon and i really don’t think i’m capable of spotting you at the gym.” you say.

you know he likes to work out, but him lifting weights worried you sometimes.

“it’s alright. i promise i’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

you glare at him. you know he will be, but a little voice in the back of your head won’t let you stop worrying about him. you suppose its a good thing.

belphegor ━━━

“good morning,” you tease, nodding toward the alarm clock that read 4:38 PM. “nice of you to rise so early.”

he grumbles at you, wiping sleep from his eye. he takes one of the pillows he’s been snuggled up with and tosses it at you, playful smile making its way onto his face.

you bat the pillow away, smiling back at him.

“you are so mean.” you claim, though still smiling.

“mhm. what ever you say, lovely.”

[pickingupmymercedes]

“watch it. seriously.” “take another step towards me and watch what happens.”

hi can we have one where it is the 1st time lewis ever hurt her deeply with his words after days of giving her silent treatment without any explanation? and then reader just decided to stop trying to talk to him bcs she has tried everything b4? and then maybe decided to sleep separately or smth. HEAVY ANGST and SFW please. also, congratulations on the 500 followers!!!! i love you 🤍🤍🤍

Hi lovely, thank you for sending your request ❤️

Also, I changed the timeline of your blurb a bit (mainly because I kind wanted to give this one a happy ending). Hope it's okay

“watch it. seriously.” and “take another step towards me and watch what happens.”

Y/N slammed the apartment door shut behind her, the sound echoing through. Lewis stood frozen in the middle of the living room; the remnants of his half-packed bags scattered around as they were both supposed to be packing for Singapore.

"Seriously, Lewis?" Her voice was tight, laced with hurt and anger. "It's not even a special race, and I’m going to be with you in the very weekend anyway!"

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Lewis ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mirroring hers.

"It's more than just the race, Y/N," he finally spoke, his voice strained. "Everything lining up just right."

"I can’t leave my team right now Lewis." she spat, the words bitter on her tongue. "My work and my life is just as important as yours, your know!?"

Lewis's jaw clenched. "Watch it. Seriously."

But the warning only fueled her fire. "No, you watch it, Lewis!" she shouted, tears stinging her eyes. "You fly all over the world, chasing glory, and then expect me to drop everything on a dime because it might be a 'good race'?!"

He flinched, and the hurt in his eyes momentarily stopped her tirade. But the silence stretched, and the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. Then, in a low voice laced with frustration, Lewis spoke, “This isn't working, Y/N. Our schedules just don't..."

The words cut her deeper than any argument ever could. Without a word, she turned and started to walk away. Lewis caught her hands, trying to turn her around but she flinched at his touch.

"Don't," she warned, her voice surprisingly steady. "Take another step towards me and watch what happens." He froze, hand hovering in mid-air. "Y/N," he started, frustration battling with concern in his voice.

But she cut him off, the fight momentarily drained out of her. "I'll… I'll talk to you later" she mumbled, needing some space to cool down before she shredded their fragile peace even further.

 She knew she was being unreasonable. She knew Lewis just wanted her with him for support, especially on race weekends, but her own hectic schedule made it impossible for her to be there for every race, and he had always known that. Yet, the sting of his words wouldn't fade.

Hours later, when the anger had subsided and only a dull ache remained, Y/N found her way to the music room, the most likely place to find him. The door was slightly ajar, and the soft strains of his favorite playlist filled the space.

Lewis sat on the worn leather couch, his head hanging low as he tried to write something on a notebook. He looked up as she entered, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before being replaced by a heavy sigh.

"Can we talk about it?" she asked, her voice softer now.

"I'm here when you're ready" he replied, his voice gruff.

She crossed the room and sat down on the other end of the couch, gazing out the window for a moment before turning back to him. "What's so important about Singapore, Lewis?" she asked, the question heavy with unspoken hurt.

He hesitated, then met her gaze. "It's… the car feels good this week," he finally admitted. "The data, the track… everything's lining up." He paused, then added softly, "And I would really like you to be there with me, if that victory is really possible."

The air hung heavy for a moment. Then, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Maybe, just maybe, your team could catch up virtually.

"Alright, Hamilton" she said, her voice teasing. "Looks like you get your lucky charm this weekend then."

______________________________________________________________

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[alchemistc]

fascination with your presentation | bucktommy 1/1

read on ao3

Tommy likes to touch things. It's just a random quirk of his that Eddie's noticed - a hand sliding along the back of the couch as he follows Eddie into the kitchen to grab a beer, fingers balancing along the table as he leans, elbow pressing into the frame of the doorway like he's gauging the space between walls.

He's tactile - a smack to the space between his shoulders, fist bumps and high fives and teasing hair ruffles when he's got Eddie pinned in the middle of a spar and they both know Eddie isn't getting out of it.

It's nice. There aren't a lot of men, especially with their background, in their line of work, who are remotely comfortable expressing affection like that.

He's a fan.

Christopher is less so, when Tommy lays a big hand to the crown of his head and goes for a noogie. He huffs, rolls his eyes, rolls his head forward and away from the touch, makes some noise about a call he's supposed to make later that night and how he doesn't want his hair messed up for it, and Tommy holds his hands up in apology, fighting a grin as Chris smooths his hair back down.

Eddie's used to it already, so it takes him a second to really notice Tommy rounding the edge of the table to flick through papers and pictures and receipts tacked to the fridge as he digs through one of his drawers in search of the bottle opener he knows he has stashed in here somewhere. Eddie's more of a twist cap beer guy, but Tommy's oddly flavored fancy bottles always need an opener.

"Here," Tommy says, and Eddie turns just in time to catch the keys Tommy slings at him.

"I don't like your truck that much," Eddie tells him, which is a lie.

Tommy tips his head forward to indicate the keys. "Bottle opener, Diaz."

Which makes sense. He should get one for himself, actually. It's a little shocking neither one of them carries a utility knife on them. The preparedness rules maybe didn't stick after discharge as well as they could have

Tommy's gaze drifts, and Eddie watches his head tilt, ring and middle finger reaching up to tap at one of the pictures on the fridge. Chris and Buck, a few years back, some trip to the museum during either Buck or Chris' dinosaur phase. Buck's holding a giant stuffed pteranodon ("Pterodactyls were smaller and had cone-shaped teeth and backward-projecting crests, actually, and this isn't technically the most accurate depiction anyway, it's generally accepted they probably had feathers, now." -- So, definitely Buck's phase, now that he's remembering.) and Chris has a specific brand of smile across his face that Eddie has quietly dubbed his Buck-smile. Something around the edges of his eyes that's always just a little brighter for Buck.

"Cute picture," Tommy says, and Chris's eyes draw to it as Tommy taps his knuckles once-twice to it before dropping his hand to his side.

It's not the first time someone in this circle of three has brought up Buck.

The first night Tommy'd been here, camped out on the couch watching a game, Chris had had a million questions, and Buck had come up pretty naturally over the course of them comparing disasters they'd been a part of, or worked.

Chris had brought up the tsunami, which had led to a back and forth where they discovered Tommy had likely flown right over them at least once during that disaster of a day, and then it had evolved into Chris memorializing all of Buck's greatest (most traumatizing) hits - pinned under a fire engine, climbing a crane tower in the middle of a county wide panic about a shooter targeting firefighters (he doesn't bring up Eddie being shot, which - maybe they should revisit that at some point, make sure Chris isn't burying that), Buck getting struck by lightning, Buck taking charge in the bridge collapse.

And obviously, if Chris was gonna debate Star Wars, he was gonna bring up Buck's involved opinions on Machete order and OG vs Prequels vs the Somehow Palpatine Returned era, and be delighted that Tommy's opinion differed from Buck's, because that made Chris the victor in that ongoing battle.

Buck is a big part of Chris and Eddie's lives, so he's gonna be dropped into conversation. Nothing strange about that.

Tommy always calls him Evan, which is a big old dose of whiplash every time, and he can't think why he does that, because despite Buck introducing himself (weirdly) as Buh-Evan Buckley, they've seen each other since, and no one else Tommy talks to calls him Evan, so he doesn't know why Buck hasn't corrected him.

Chris' mouth does something strange as Tommy keeps looking at the picture, his expression going a little curious in a way Eddie can't quite parse, and then he's grinning. There's no reason to be suspicious, except for the way he actually puts down his phone to engage with Tommy as Eddie passes a beer off.

"Yeah, Buck always takes me to exhibits every time there's a new one. He's cool like that."

Tommy hums around his first sip, expression placid, posture relaxed. "Maybe I could take you to the next one."

Christopher's eyes narrow.

Eddie's lost.

"Uh, not without Buck. Carla took me once without him and he pretended to be fine about it for weeks until I asked him to take me again. He was not happy we went without him. But you could come with us."

Tommy tap-tap-taps his finger against the rim of his bottle, unfazed by the slightly territorial way Chris had phrased it. Eddie's fazed. Eddie is not sure there's not a second layer to this conversation he's missing. "I'll look it up. Jot it down in my day book."

Christopher is too young to have a clue what that means, but he doesn't seem to be quite done with whatever the hell it is he's got going on right now. "Good," he says. "Buck's single right now, so he's got a lot of extra time for stuff."

Tommy's gaze flits to Christopher's, and Eddie doesn't have a fucking clue what's going on, but it's a weighted look for half a second before Chris' gaze turns back to his phone.

"You have his number, right? Maybe you should call him and figure out a day we can all go."

Something happens around the corners of Tommy's mouth that he hides by tipping the bottle mouth against his lips again. "Yeah. I've got his number."

For a second Eddie wonders why, before he remembers catching Buck down at Harbor before the fight. When had Buck gotten his number?

"Cool," says Chris, eyes already glued back to his phone. "We usually get lunch first. Buck really likes pizza."

"Everyone likes pizza," Tommy says, eyes glimmering with mirth that Eddie absolutely does not know the source of.

"Yeah, but Buck's picky about it. He says there's a perfect pizza to crust ratio that most places don't get right. Also he likes it when they have a stone oven, and the little pizza risers."

Tommy rolls his tongue over his teeth. And - why is Eddie watching this interaction so carefully? It's not like he's worried Tommy's gonna say something weird to his kid, even if his kid is being weird.

"I'm gonna go throw the game on. You hungry?"

Tommy's eyes shift to meet his, and Eddie feels that same frisson of excitement he gets sometimes when Buck is paying close attention to him. "I could eat. Not pizza though. There's nowhere around here with a good stone oven."

"Dad likes pineapple on his pizza, his pizza opinions suck."

Eddie tosses his hands up. This is an old argument, one created entirely by Buck because Chris hadn't minded a good Canadian pizza before Buck declared war on them. "Pizza's just pizza. I was thinking Chinese, anyway."

"Can we get those spring rolls Buck always gets?"

Tommy's gaze slips to the fridge one more time, eyes drifting across the picture he'd pointed out earlier, before he unclips the menu for the Chinese place down the street from its spot half-covering the calendar to hand it off to Eddie. He spots the circle around their plans for Thursday and reaches out to touch the date.

"You invite anyone else for Thursday?"

Eddie rolls his top lip over his bottom one. "Buck hates basketball, turns me down every time I ask. I might ask Chim, though, he and his brother always liked to play."

Literally nothing in Tommy's expression changes, but Eddie feels like he's reacting to something in that sentence anyway. He's trying to figure out how to cut the weird tension in the room when Christopher starts listing off his order, and he's so distracted by trying to get a list prepared to call that he misses two thirds of Chris and Tommy's continued conversation, which is somehow, for some reason, still about Buck. Geez, is Chris pissed that Eddie's got a new friend? He should invite Buck next time he makes plans to hang out at home with Tommy.

----

"It was a date," Buck tells him, a week and a half later, while Eddie's staring at his phone like looking hard enough might make it, and his relationship with Marisol, maybe disappear. Just for a little while, while he squares things up with God.

Eddie tosses his phone, turns to look at Buck in the second before it computes, manages to pull back just enough so that it's not a full, ridiculous double take.

"When you and Marisol ran into me and Tommy, we were on a date."

"Really?" Buck usually tells him the second he's interested in someone, because for some reason he thinks Eddie has any idea how to have a loving, lasting relationship, even though Eddie's been lobbing live grenades straight at love since he was fourteen. He hadn't said a word to Eddie about -

Well.

Well actually --

Well shit.

Oh, he's definitely giving Tommy and Christopher both shit about this later.

"Wait, Tommy's gay?"

A whole host of things are suddenly lining up -- Buck at Harbor the afternoon before the fight, and Buck asking half a million questions after the fight, and Buck and Tommy both picking at the thread of Christopher's praises for the other, and -- Buck had been jealous. Buck had been jealous of Eddie spending time with Tommy. Buck had shoulder checked him to the court and sprained his ankle because he liked the guy enough to lose his head about it.

Oh, he's gonna hold this over all of their heads for sure.

Which for the moment is apparently not that great an idea because Tommy'd pressed pause after one date, which is fast even for Buck. He tells him so.

"When we ran into you guys I kinda made an idiot of myself and he said he doesn't think I'm ready." Buck looks -- sad. Disappointed. Nervous, hands rubbing at his thighs like he's soothing himself. It's a fair point, on Tommy's part, even if he doesn't know all the details.

(Something about hot chicks pings in the back of his mind, but he shelves it for later.)

Buck's never really hinted at romantic inclinations in that direction, although some of his comments about good looking guys are making a little more sense, in retrospect.

"What do you think?" Eddie's pretty sure he knows the answer to this question, but he asks anyway, because Buck likes to work these things out. He likes to talk about them. Eddie imagines not being able to articulate exactly what he was feeling without wondering if his friends would think it was weird probably (definitely) contributed to his wildly dramatic behavior the last few weeks.

Geez, Tia Pepa would be eating this telenovela shit up.

"I kinda can't stop thinking about him," Buck tells him, and it's a voice Eddie's not entirely sure he's ever heard from Buck before -- at least when he's talking about someone he's into. Buck's always got a checklist and a trillion rationalizations. Now he just sounds... smitten.

And Tommy is too, Eddie thinks. He is absolutely gonna call him out for pumping his kid for information. Maybe accuse him of only befriending him to get to Buck -- see if he can make the unflappable Tommy Kinard flap, a little.

"You should call him," Eddie tells him, already imagining double dates with a partner of Buck's he doesn't hope will spontaneously combust in the middle of dinner. Maybe between Tommy, Chris and Eddie they can finally convince Buck to go to one of the car shows he's always rolling his eyes at. Maybe Tommy and his terribly hidden romantic side can actually match Buck's crazy.

Eddie hugs Buck on his way out the door and feels the tension drain from his shoulders.

Maybe touched starved Buck will get to enjoy that little tactile quirk of Tommy's, too.

[lemoncrushh]

Carrot Cake

Summary: Harry has something he's been wanting to ask Y/N, but the timing is never right.

Warnings: None, just fluffy fluff

Word Count: 1695

A/N: Another shortie from 2017. Written in third person but the fc's name has been changed to Y/N.

It had been on Harry's mind for quite some time. He loved her. He wanted to be with her. She was over at his place all the time anyway. She already had a key. It only made sense.

He'd tried to say something yesterday morning after Y/N had taken her shower and was getting dressed.

"Come sit with me," he beckoned, patting the bed beside him.

"Sorry love," she said as she pulled her blouse over her head. "I have to get to work early this morning."

"So no time for breakfast? You have to eat."

Stepping into her pumps, she leaned over and kissed him.

"I'll grab something on the way," she murmured against his lips. "Have a good day."

Frowning, he watched her cross the room to the door.

"What about tonight? Are we still on for dinner?"

"Of course," Y/N nodded. "Bye, Harry."

With a sigh, he grabbed a fistful of sheets, listening for the sound of the front door closing. He reckoned he might have to get her attention some other way.

"Harry!" Y/N exclaimed when she saw him step off the lift that afternoon. "What are you doing here?"

With a shy grin, Harry lifted the bags of food in his hands.

"Since you couldn't have breakfast with me, I brought lunch."

"That's...so sweet."

Y/N eyed her supervisor who gave her a nod, then she gestured toward the hallway that led to the break room. Following her in, Harry set the bags on the table and began to empty them.

"Ooh, you got me my favorite salad!" exclaimed Y/N.

"I did," grinned Harry with a wiggle of his brows.

"Did you get extra salad dressing?"

"Of course."

Lifting the container of the poppyseed honey mustard dressing Y/N liked, Harry beamed at her like a child with a good report card.

"I love you!" squealed Y/N as she gave Harry a kiss on the cheek before she sat down.

"I love you, too. And I have something else."

Y/N's eyes widened like saucers as Harry pulled the last item out of the second bag.

"Carrot cake!" she cheered.

"That's only if you finish your salad," Harry teased.

"Yes, sir."

The two began to eat their lunch as Harry contemplated how to bring up the subject. Finally, he decided to just wing it.

"So, I've been thinking..."

"Hmm?" Y/N sounded as she chewed. "'Bout what?"

"Well...um...you know how you have a few of your things at my place..."

Y/N paused her fork in mid air as she glared at Harry.

"Is it too much?"

"Y/N?" a voice called from the hallway.

"No," Harry shook his head.

"I can take some of it home, if it's in the way."

"No, baby, that's not what-"

"Y/N!" the voice rang again.

"I'm in the break room!" she replied back.

A face peeked around the corner, a young lad that worked in Y/N's department.

"Ah, there you are. Melinda needs you."

"Now? I'm having lunch."

"Just for a minute."

With a heavy sigh, Y/N rose from her chair.

"Be right back," she mumbled to Harry who nodded.

By the time she returned, Harry was already halfway through his salad.

"Sorry. What were we talking about?" she asked as she took her seat again.

"Um..."

"Oh yes! My things at your place. I suppose I thought..." Y/N shook her head. "Never mind what I thought. I'll get them out of your way."

"No, love, that's not what I was getting at."

"It's not?"

With a nervous chuckle, Harry dug his fork into his salad.

"I like your things there."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "In fact, I'd love it if-"

"Y/N!"

"Oh for heaven's sake!" she shouted. "What now?"

"Y/N," called Regina who stood in the doorway. "We need you again. Hi, Harry."

Harry hesitantly waved his hand at the girl he vaguely remembered meeting once before.

"Seriously? It can't wait? I'm having a lovely lunch with my boyfriend. Or at least I'm trying to."

"It'll just take a minute."

"That's what they said last time," groaned Y/N. When she reached the doorway, she turned back to Harry. "I probably won't get to the cake. Can you take it home?"

"Sure."

This time she was gone longer. Harry had thrown away his trash, bagged up the slice of cake and sat back in his chair. He was beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea.

"Sorry, baby," Y/N mouthed when she returned. "I have to get back to this project."

"No worries," he shrugged.

"I feel awful. This was such a sweet gesture."

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, walking around the table to give her a kiss. "We still have dinner tonight."

"Oh...yeah...about that..."

Harry's shoulders dropped, already knowing how the sentence ended. "You have to work."

"Yeah. Probably. Maybe. I'm not sure how late."

"It's okay," Harry said with a sigh. "We can do it some other time."

"I'm really sorry."

"Baby..." he placed his hands on her cheeks, "I said it's fine."

"I can still come over later.

"And stay...the night?"

"...maybe."

With tight lips, Harry nodded, dropping his hands to his sides.

"I'll put your cake in the fridge," he said as he grabbed the bag.

"Okay. Thanks."

"Bye, love," he whispered low as he gave her a soft kiss goodbye.

It was late. He checked the clock on the microwave. Okay, so it was only 9:00. It wasn't that late. It just had felt as though the minutes had ticked by achingly slowly because he'd really wanted to talk to her.

Walking to the refrigerator, Harry opened it to reveal its contents, though he had no clue what he was in the mood for. His gaze met the clamshell box that held the uneaten carrot cake that he'd planned on sharing with Y/N. It sounded good, but he wasn't sure if he was in the mood for something sweet. Then he spotted the two remaining bottles of beer, the last two from the six pack that he and Y/N had shared the previous weekend during a Netflix marathon. They'd planned to finish them off but had ended up in his bed earlier than expected.

Slamming the door shut, Harry leant against it, crossing his arms and checking his watch.

She wasn't coming, was she? And even if she did, it would be so late and she'd be so tired and not want to talk or do anything else but sleep.

Opening the fridge again, Harry took the cake out and grabbed a fork from the drawer before taking a seat at the table. As soon as the cream cheese frosting met his tongue, he closed his eyes. He'd just swallowed his first bite when he heard the front door unlock.

"Harry?"

"In the kitchen!"

"Oh my god, what a day!"

He heard the clunk of something hitting the floor and a clink of keys being dropped on the table in the entryway.

"I swear, Melinda would have us spending the night there if she could. I seriously think she has no life outside of work."

Y/N turned the corner just as Harry shoved his second bit of carrot cake in his mouth.

"Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Harry stopped mid-bite and glared at her. "Wha-?"

"That piece of cake. I was saving it."

"Sorry," Harry swallowed, pushing the container towards Y/N. "Here. I only ate two bites."

"No," she sighed, waving her hand. "Eat it. I don't need it anyway."

"Share?" Harry raised a brow. "I bought it for both of us anyway."

Slowly, Y/N's lips turned up into a smile and she opened a kitchen drawer to get a fork. Then she pulled back a chair to sit down next to Harry.

"Mmmm!" she sounded, licking the frosting from her lips. "Wow, that's good."

"I know," Harry grinned, taking another bite for himself.

He watched Y/N as she chewed, the look of bliss on her features.

"I'm glad I didn't try to eat this at lunch," she declared. "I wouldn't have enjoyed it like this."

"Let's move in together."

Y/N stopped mid lick, her tongue still on her fork where she was trying to remove the frosting.

"Huh?"

"Let's move in together," Harry repeated, a little more emphatically.

Dropping her fork on the table, she glared at him.

"Harry...you...I work crazy hours. You'd never see me."

"I'd see you more than I do, because you'd be living here."

"But...are you serious?"

Harry nodded, reaching for her hand.

"It makes sense. You're here a lot anyway. And your things are here..."

Y/N sat back, her lips turning up into a smile. "This is what that was about today. At lunch."

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Only I kept getting interrupted."

Taking a deep, slightly shaky breath, Y/N let it out slowly as she threaded her fingers through Harry's.

"You had me frightened for a minute, you know. I thought you were trying to break up with me."

Harry shook his head. "Never."

Biting her lip, Y/N let out a nervous giggle.

"I'm a horrible housekeeper," she admitted. "I drop my bag wherever I feel like it. And I leave the cap open on the shampoo."

Harry shrugged. "I sometimes forget to share and eat all your cake."

As Y/N laughed harder, Harry pulled her into his lap.

"Move in with me," he said. "Please."

"Can I have a day or two to think about it?"

"No."

Y/N poked him in the ribs which made him wrap his arms around her tighter.

"I love you, Y/N," he declared.

"I love you, too."

"Let's give this a try, yeah?"

Sucking in her lips, Y/N nodded. Harry placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"No pressure," he teased.

"You're just asking for a tickle fight, aren't you?"

"Jesus, no. Not on our first night as a...whatever kinda couple you call us."

Y/N beamed as she ran her fingertip across his dimple on his left cheek.

"Good point. I have a better idea to christen the occasion."

Harry raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Yep." Y/N reached behind her and grabbed the clamshell box. "Let's finish this cake."

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[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.4 | END)

W/C 7.2k #NSFW, male!reader, top!reader, bottom!sukuna, ABO elements, heian sukuna, typical kitsune shapeshifting, jp mythology, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, questionable relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, gojo/megumi/yuuji/nobara cameos, yuuji/megu/nobara are early 20s, sukuna is controlling/possessive/obsessive, rough sex, not edited enough (oh well) Note: It's finally over (dies like Noctis)

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah @memedealer-exe @f0th3rr @boretheral @cicithemess @paastaboi @someone0vx

“Google says kitsune are usually attuned to one of the thirteen elements,” Nobara prattled, scrolling through the random Japanese mythology website on her phone. “Itadori, what's his element, huh?” 

Yuuji pursed his lips, face growing deadpan as he thought and quickly realized he had no clue.

“Uh…” 

Nobara grimaced. “Useless.” 

“Hey, I didn't know they were all, y'know, elemental-y, okay?! Jeeze!” 

Megumi sighed and shook his head. “We're supposed to be keeping an eye on him, not arguing about garbage you found online.” 

The two country bumpkins followed Megumi's gaze to where you snoozed under a tree. It felt a little strange seeing you donned in one of college's spare uniforms, but you seemed quite pleased by the modern take on fashion and aesthetic. Yuuji wondered if you'd take to modifying the plain, black clothes the way you'd done so in the past.

“Oi, kyuubi!” Nobara called as she wandered in your direction, much to the chagrin of Megumi. “I got a question for ya.”

You spared her a sleepy glance before sitting up and stretching with a wide, toothy yawn. It almost took the three aback, seeing how sharp and distinctly not-human your teeth were.

“You and everyone else, evidently.” You hummed and combed your tail with your fingers. “Speak.”

“Is it true that your kind are, like, elemental or something?” 

Megumi sighed as he rolled up beside her. “She means to ask if kitsune are elementally-attuned, whether it be to fire, water, earth–that sort of thing.” 

“I literally just said that!” Nobara hissed as she smacked Megumi's arm. The raven didn't react in the slightest. 

“Yeah!” Yuuji piped up. His face grew red as soon as your lazy stare flicked to him. “I-I, uh–like, y'know, fire. Or…you talked about fire?” 

“You are so tactless. It's starting to get sad.” 

“Can it, Kugisaki!” 

You smiled. “It's true, more or less. I was taught my sort usually falls into one of the thirteen elements: celestial, wind, spirit, darkness, fire, earth, river, ocean, forest, mountain, thunder, sound, and time.

“Then, there are the broadly ‘bad’ sort, nogitsune, and the ‘good’ sort, zenko. Most say only zenko reach total divinity, but that's not always the case.” 

“Yikes, so the bad kitsune can be gods too?” Yuuji asked as he sat down with you and pulled at the grass idly. “Isn't that, y'know, bad?”

“Gods are all inherently bad, as far as I'm concerned,” you said.

“Gojo-sensei mentioned you were one,” Megumi offered as he and Nobara sat, too. “A god. The people revered you.” 

You snorted and covered your mouth the way you might have if you had the long sleeves of a kimono to aid you.

“They didn't mind me. I don't think they particularly liked me, considering what company I kept.” You hummed and straightened out your sleeve. 

“Yeah, but…you're not him, so what's the point in hating you?” Yuuji asked, and you couldn't help but feel more weight and worry behind the words. 

“I don't care what they thought of me. I only cared about what the palace residents thought. They were my family, in a sense.” 

“Even Sukuna?” Megumi asked. 

“That's such a stupid question, oh my god. Boys are so stupid,” Nobara said with a deadpan.

You smiled, though, and kindly still answered. 

“Especially Sukuna.” 

“Hey, hey! Sorry for the wait!” Gojo called across the field as he made a show of sauntering on over before teleporting in the blink of an eye. “So? Are we all–oooh, are we gossiping?”

“What, no?!”

“No.”

“No.” 

Gojo pouted. “My students always leave me out. Thankfully, my sweet, pious, precious (Name) is nice to me!”

“You're late, Satoru,” you sighed as you stood, tying back your chopped hair into the tiniest of ponytails. “What is the reason?”

Gojo whined and trotted up to you, rubbing and petting your ears to bring you back to his side of the issue.

“It's not my fault! All the higher-ups are sooo annoying and yap sooo much!” He shuffled behind you and played with your three lush tails much like a toddler would. “Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy that's not gonna get mad at the Gojo Satoru?” 

You sighed and flicked your ear, thwacking him in the forehead with it. “Let's not waste any more time, cretin.

“What're we even doing, Sensei?” Yuuji asked, rubbing the back of his head after raising his hand like he was in class. “You didn't really tell us anythin’.” 

“Yeah, I thought we were just watching the fox until he had to go back in his cage,” Nobara said, arms crossed and expression sour. “Seems kinda stupid. He's not even a threat.” But Yuuji knew there was little truth to that statement.

“I'm guessing the meeting was about relocating (Name).” Megumi looked at Gojo. “So what's the plan?” 

–

The five of you walked endlessly through the vast forest surrounding the college. Your gaze traveled up sky-scraping trees, admiring the ancient song of life only you could hear through the soil and air. Wind danced across the verdant canopy above, scattering beams of molten sunlight across the forest floor and dappling the shoulders of the sorcerers before you with golden kisses–a sight you so sorely missed from your tenure at the palace. 

The land was not crying here. You'd heard the distant sound from the concrete jungle resting far below the rise of the college, and it shrouded you with jaded confusion and contempt for what had been done to the world in your stead; if you'd been smarter, wiser to the plans of one, could you have prevented this? Or were humans simply inevitable with their evolution? Perhaps it was up to the Earth to find the yang after the yin.

“Okay, this is it!” Gojo called, snapping you from your rampant thoughts. 

You looked to where he gestured, and found a simple building. It was reminiscent of the college in its design–modern, but clearly inspired by traditional architecture–and it looked fairly new. A bell attached to a rope stood at the forefront, as did a well for mortals to throw their offerings before ringing the aforementioned chime. Beyond that, the shrine lacked character and decoration. It was a clean slate. 

You blinked owlishly, and tilted your head. “This is…?”

“A shrine! For our new on-campus god! How fun is that, huh?” Gojo smiled, proud for a reason you couldn't decipher. “You get to make it home!” 

The younger three all deadpanned, looking between each other, trying to parse if their teacher was delusional or just being a menace to society and doing this behind the council’s back. Honestly, it was up in the air. 

“I–is that even–” Megumi tried, but gave up and rubbed his face instead. 

“So…(Name)’s gonna be, like, our resident god, or something?” Yuuji wondered, feeling his heart pitter patter just a little faster. 

“Haha! Sure, if you want to think of it that way.” Gojo smiled and looked toward the blank canvas of a shrine. “In exchange for divine favour, we grant sanctuary. Home. A place to call your own.” 

You didn't say much, but your tails swished and flowed as you stared at the humble abode–your humble abode–and inhaled shakily. 

“I suppose this will do,” you conceded, still too unwilling to give Gojo the satisfaction of knowing he'd touched your heart. “It's a bit stingy, however.”

“STINGY?” 

“Indeed. Now, begone–I have work to do.” 

– 

Sukuna reached for you when he dreamed. He didn't need to sleep, he had no use for it as he was now, but he convinced himself into the realm of the unconscious regardless, searching for the doorway leading to your mind. 

And he tried night after night, day after day, searching and sitting outside the palace of your inner realm once he found the entrance. The door was the same as the one leading to your chambers in your shared home; a simple, sliding door of wood and paper. Beautiful. Comforting. 

He knew the door wouldn't open for him, not yet; he deduced what may have happened, and what that would have meant for you all and himself as a result. He'd have to be patient. Wait for you to let him in to confront him, or seek his comfort. 

But he didn't expect the door to open so suddenly behind him, sending him rolling onto his back and staring upside down at the most magnificent sight he'd ever beheld–a kyuubi, sitting poised across the room, dressed in a haori several sizes too big, waiting with his back turned as candlelight flickered and lulled the room into a lazy, sleepy haze.

Sukuna righted himself and stood, spirit flailing and tearing itself apart in his uncontrollable want for you, for a desire to return back to the simplicity of this time. But he couldn't go back. Maybe he could recreate it. 

“Fox,” Sukuna murmured, excitement igniting the small, human body he'd been forced to mold his soul into. It felt so much worse in this form, his want being so much more fucking unbearable and burning a hole in his damn chest and skull. 

You shifted, head turning the slightest toward him yet refusing to give way entirely. But, then you stood, and Sukuna suddenly understood how you felt in the presence of his overwhelming power. 

You stood tall. Proud. Powerful. Your ears pointed towards the heavens while your tails fanned against the gates of hell when you turned to face that lover of the past, the one you held so dear for decades. 

Sukuna almost felt weak in the knees (or was that somehow Yuuji interrupting his delusions?) when bright red markings caught the light, shimmering in divine sparks of orange and teal in the firelight–and your eyes. Your eyes. They burned with higher purpose. With unreadable certainty and alien understanding. You made Sukuna's gut coil with need. 

“My Sukuna,” you whispered to the room. You took a step forward, and Sukuna eagerly met you the rest of the way. “You look so…small.” 

He looked up at you–yes, up--and admired your face and godly stature and just how fucking tall and unearthly and powerful you were looming over him. 

“Stuck looking like this fucking runt while I'm in his body,” Sukuna explained bitterly. He reached a hand up while he spoke, and you graciously leaned down to let his skin touch yours. 

An ache curled under Sukuna's skin, flushing his complexion with heat and suffocating him in those unbearable sorcerer uniform garbs. His pants strained too tight, his jacket and hoodie made his core swelter and his mind grow fuzzy. It was torture. 

“He looks so much like you,” you drawled, holding Sukuna's face in kind. You hummed with sympathy when he moaned and leaned into your touch, only abandoning his own rediscovery of your features to hold your palms against him, to indulge in everything so wholly you. 

“Forgot what I look like, huh,” Sukuna huffed. “This brat looks like a beaten monkey.” 

“So did you.”

“Hey.” 

“But I adored you anyway, did I not?” 

Sukuna scanned over your face slowly, methodically, wondering. 

“Adore. You mean ‘adore’.” 

“Perhaps.” You smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “It's been some time.” 

“You chose me. You belong to me.” Sukuna's lip curled as he growled and forced your hands into his skin firmer as though to leave scars. “Mine. Only mine.” 

Your lips quirked upwards and Sukuna pulled you down to kiss you. His voice reverberated between your linked bodies as your tongue licked into his mouth far enough to nearly make him choke. You kindly pulled him flush against you, wrenching more pleased, needy noises out of him with no effort at all. 

“You're as starved as Yuuji,” you whispered as his hands fumbled with your ornate clothes, yanking and pulling at them with reckless abandon. 

“Shut up.” His grumbling lessened just a bit when you eased your robes open, exposing your perfect skin to him once again. 

“I believe it'd displease you if I stopped talking, no?” You tore the clothing off the other's body as he pulled you down to the floor with him, suddenly so eager to submit. 

Sukuna scoffed. “I–just touch me, fox.” 

It was your turn to purr and keen, basking in the soft tremble of anticipation the all-powerful choked on as he spread himself bare beneath you, your garbs cascading all around him like a waterfall–only you would get to see him, chest heaving, eyes swirling with lust and need, hidden behind a curtain of embroidered flames.

“Poor thing.” You dug your nails into his hips and dragged him toward you, prodding your aching length against his unprepared heat. “You've been so long without touch. Without love. Do you still think it's meaningless?” 

The curse snarled, and you caught him by the throat, pinning him in place and jamming your other hand's fingers down his throat before he could bark back at you. And just that simple torture had the king's hips twitching and bucking, slowly falling into time with the rhythm of your digits slipping in and out of his bratty mouth. 

“F-fuck you,” he gasped once his mouth fell empty. 

You chuckled smoothly. “It's simply food for thought.” You pressed two fingers into him and worked inside with ease despite the crushing heat clamping down around you. You didn't know if his sweet, little body wanted you to stay put or fill him faster. 

“Fuckin'--annoying, shithead, bratty fox–” he cut off with a ragged moan as you pressed against his prostate and rubbed against it slowly, firmly, deliciously. His eyes fell shut and his brows twitched up, a vivid look of desperation and concentration making him look far too vulnerable and breedable for his own good. 

“It's strange,” you hummed, working him a little faster and jamming your fingers against his sweet spot over and over. “I never thought you'd willingly submit.” 

“I need it,” Sukuna growled, fisting his hand around his weeping length and stroking to the beat of your fingers. His hips bucked forward and back, unsure of what searing pleasure to lean into more; luckily for him, you were keen to up the ante. 

Your fingers slipped out and Sukuna snarled, crimson eyes snapping open to brand you with frustration. You felt the whip of desperate commands about to crack off Sukuna's tongue, so you wasted no time filling him back up, stuffing him beyond his limits. 

The man almost gasped, though it could have just been the force of your cock punching the air out of his lungs. You pulled him against you, seating him to the base with a little effort and brute force. You knew he liked the pain. Pleasure was closely acquainted with it, after all. 

“This is what you wanted,” you murmured as you rocked into him. 

The curse didn't know if you beckoned an answer from him, or simply stated the facts. So, he didn't answer you. He instead gripped onto your shoulders to keep himself steady while you effortlessly drilled into his core with each and every thoughtful roll of your hips. 

And it felt good. An uncomfortable, searing stretch accompanied the deep plunges filling him beat after beat. His body tightened and clamped down around you, forcing your length to rub against the weakest, most sensitive spots inside of him–places no one would ever dream of hitting inside the unruly king. None besides you, of course. You were different. Better than the rest. Fit to fuck and fill him if Sukuna so desired it. 

“(Name),” he groaned when you changed up the angle, aiming to rub up against the ceiling of his insides with every thrust. You tortured his weak spot, and made a casual show of forcing his stomach to bulge and distend whenever you bottomed out entirely, and Sukuna reveled in it. He wanted to be yours. Just yours. 

“You're so sweet when you submit,” you cooed, leaning down and nuzzling against his neck as you fucked into him harder and faster. “You should have done so sooner.”

Sukuna should have clapped Back, but he couldn't; he was too busy trying to angle himself to somehow get you deeper. He was too busy trying to pull you closer, to graft his thick thighs to your scar-riddled sides like a branch on a tree. He couldn't spare a single braincell on your arrogant Teasing when all he could think was, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me–

“Now he's lost his voice,” you sighed. “Such a pity.” Your hips hit particularly hard to punctuate, and Sukuna grunted. 

“Again,” he choked out. “Fuck me like that.” 

You branded a smile into his skin with a hum. “Are you sure? I won't stop if it's too much.” 

Sukuna opened his bleary eyes and spied your nine tails fanned out, cloaking the ceiling from sight. It felt like staring death in the face. Maybe he'd been in its clutches this entire time. Maybe he wanted–needed–you to be the end of him.

Your hand found his throat again, and Sukuna nodded as best he could, too overwhelmed and overstimulated to get words out of his open mouth–but grunts and groans had no issue bursting through as you left mercy by the wayside and destroyed him as thoroughly as he requested. You were, after all, a selfless god.

Sukuna's eyes rolled back as his head tilted in kind, mouth left agape as you burned him alive; every push of your body into his lit new fires, and every second you stayed connected, more of his soul exhausted itself before rising from ashes once again. The tightness coiling in his stomach grew unbearable and insatiable, hungering for more and more and more until–

“There's no shame in coming undone,” you cooed, your lips and fangs replacing the hand in his throat and peppering apologetic kisses. “Unravel for me, my love.” 

My love. My love. My love.

“Fuck,” Sukuna gasped. He clung to you, and you raised your head to kiss him, swallowing his strained noises to keep them a secret from the outside world and himself. 

He grabbed at your shoulders and arms as his head tilted back and a hoarse cry left him–just as his body clamped down and sent him over the edge, he realized pushing in and out had become more taxing. Perhaps because of his cumming, or perhaps because of the ungodly thing swelling at your base and ripping him open. 

You worked him through his high, never thinking of pulling away from him when he needed you most. Because this was bound to end. He was bound to wake up and feel cold where your hands now touched. He was stuck in the body of another with no hope of reaching you unless he somehow, some way turned the tables on all those weak sorcerers and broke free. 

But he would. He'd claim his vessel and walk amongst the new world, autonomous and untouchable. It was only a matter of time. 

–

Though Sukuna was selfish in chasing his own pleasure, he soon found immense satisfaction in yours.

The number of times he'd trap you against a wall and finger you until your legs gave out and your voice ran hoarse was too great to count. He couldn't help himself; that bewildered, wide-eyed look you gave him every time you were let go to fix your robes and catch your voice screamed, what was that for? And boosted Sukuna’s ego. He reveled in the glory of being the only one to do this to you, to being the one who forced you to lose composure. 

In his chamber, he indulged further. He'd work thick fingers deep inside of you while his other hands roamed and touched, stroking, pinching and rubbing wherever he deemed needed attention. And you were putty in his hands, absolutely melting into everything he did to you, even if accompanied by a shock of pain. 

Because you were a creature who only knew sex for the sake of bearing children. Beyond that clan using you in an attempt to create half-breed sorcerers, your primal nature influenced you to only seek out a mate for the purpose of bearing children, and not necessarily for pleasure. 

But Sukuna was the opposite. He never thought of siring children. He only thought of pleasure of another's body and the thrill of total domination over them, never the idea he'd suffer the consequences of an heir; he had those women drink a special tea to prevent that for a reason, especially when a handful had come to him, offering their bodies in return for fame and perceived power. 

With you, he could entertain the idea, however. 

Yes, the mere idea of watching you walk around the gardens, properly swollen with his children, with physical proof of his ownership and coupling with you, sparked something akin to greed in his chest. Though it was a little warmer than just that, admittedly.

–

Yuuji liked you. There was no escaping it, no denying it–he liked being around you. He liked your smile. Your tails. Your ears. The way you scared the shit out of him the first time you properly met. You were just…weird. Interesting. Kind of like Yuuji himself. 

But you were kind, too. The times he wandered out to meet you at your shrine to “check up on things,” or because he was bored, he always found you tending to your gardens, talking to the passerby wildlife, dozing at the entrance, and his heart would do something funny in his chest. 

Then his mind would rot until all he could see was you sprawled beneath Sukuna, singing the king’s praises while he fucked you into the tatami and bred you. 

It wouldn't stop there. Sukuna would taunt him, poisoning him with sinful thoughts and diabolic urges:

You think that fox'll give you the time of day? You, a petulant runt with not a shred of experience beyond your hand? Hah. 

Consider it a blessing--you'd probably cum too fast to enjoy him properly. You'd embarrass yourself to death.

I know you think about him when your hand's around your cock. You wish he'd warm it, no? Wish you got to watch his ass take you in? 

Go on, why don't you just try? Fulfill your fantasies! Maybe he'll act the part of a pious, pitying god and throw you a bone. 

Yuuji, for as airheaded as he could be, knew Sukuna wanted to indulge in you through his vessel. Or, he truly believed Yuuji wouldn't be able to hook up with you and live to remember it. Maybe he was right. 

But the young man thought you had a soft spot for him; he wasn't great at reading people by any means, but he thought you always gravitated to him before the others. You always held more warmth in your eyes when they fell upon him, and your preening touch constantly found him, your hands always smoothing out the creases of his uniform while deft fingers fixed his hair and pleated his hood into more attractive folds. 

Maybe your touchy-ness toward him was a culmination of your need to parent something. Yuuji didn't fully understand it, but Gojo mentioned something about you wanting children, but you couldn't have them. Not anymore. And so those urges manifested in other ways. 

But the young sorcerer wasn't so sure anymore.

“My Yuuji,” you cooed when he came to visit. “You're back again so soon. Is everything alright?”

Yuuji smiled and braced for impact, bowing his head the slightest bit to let you bonk yours against his in greeting. It really reminded him of the way cats would welcome each other. Thankfully, you didn't seem too eager to mark him with a dose of spittle, though. 

“Yeah, everything's cool. Just–dunno. Wanted to come see what you were doing, I guess.” The sorcerer shrugged and pocketed his hands after you'd finished lovingly headbutting him.

“Mmh. Well, I certainly don't mind the company.” You smoothed back his hair and fixed the wild flare of one of his eyebrows before stepping away and meandering back towards your shrine. “It feels like something's going to happen soon.”

Yuuji's stomach flipped. “Yeah? You think so?” He followed you, watching the hypnotic swaying of your tails and hips and ass–wait, wait, wait, no, no, no–

What? Am I wrong? Sukuna's voice purred. Looks downright breedable, doesn't he? He said it more like a want than a taunt, this time, like if he were in Yuuji's shoes, he'd jump on you and pick up where you left off. 

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Yuuji chanted, trying to calm down. Don't ruin this!

Ruin what? Your sad attempt at courtship, brat? 

Yuuji said nothing. Sukuna howled with laughter. 

“Natural disasters cannot always be predicted,” you murmured, bringing Yuuji back to the present. “And they can never be stopped.”

The younger frowned and rubbed the back of his neck as he followed you inside. “Eh, I mean…we can stop a lot with sorcery, can't we?”

“And if that disaster is born of sorcery? What then?” You snapped your fingers, and every candle in the room ignited with amber flame.

“Uh…I mean…” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I still think we can stop it. We'll figure out a way!”

You sure about that, brat? 

You laughed, soft and kind, bringing a smile to Yuuji instead of a ticked off frown. You had a way of settling his nerves and relieving the tension from tightly wound muscles. Is this the effect you had on Sukuna? Is that why he cherished you so much? 

“I admire your optimism, Yuuji. Perhaps I should aspire to be like you,” you said. 

Yuuji's face flushed. “E-eh? Wh–no! You're awesome the way you are! And, uh, you're–y’know. You're good!” Smooth. Eloquent. Exceptional.

You hummed and wandered further into the back rooms, allowing Yuuji to follow you to your chambers to relax. “Well, I'll trust your opinion, then.” 

“Okay. Yeah. Cool.” The sorcerer cleared his throat and messed with his hood as he followed your lead, admiring the tidy, comfy space you welcomed him into. Pillows and blankets were plentiful and all bunched together on a futon, so much like the nests Yuuji often saw in his dreams. It felt a bit…intrusive to see it in person. 

“Hey, uh,” Yuuji started, “I–can I ask something?” 

You seated yourself down across the small, simple kotatsu, and gestured for the younger to join you. “Of course.”

The sorcerer sat down across from you. “You and Sukuna. Were you guys–did you ever…y'know.” 

You tilted your head, curious. “Go on.”

“Were you, like, in love? Or something?” Yuuji's face burned red at the words. Talking about love was so damn awkward for some reason, especially when it had to do with Sukuna and the fox Yuuji himself pined for.

“Ah.” You tilted your head the opposite direction, and hummed. “I was in love, yes.”

Yuuji's chest ached. “Even now?” 

“Eternally.” 

“Do you want him back?” 

You didn't answer right away, and the festering pain spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers; of course you wanted him back. Of course you wanted your ancient, all-powerful lover back. Why would you ever accept Yuuji in his place? A weak, mortal being?

Before Yuuji could retract the question, you'd shuffled around to his side of the table and held one of his hands in both of yours. The younger couldn't bear to look at your face, and so kept his eyes trained on your elegant fingers smoothing over his rough, scarred knuckles. 

“I would not trade a soul that walks amongst the living for a soul that has already lived its life,” you said. “Sukuna has lived. And he has died. He may rise once more, but I do not seek to aid it; he chose to die in hopes of living forever. He must accept what his decision brings, as must I.” 

The storm inside of the sorcerer calmed the slightest bit. Sails no longer whipped and frayed; they caught wind and led his heart back to placid waters, though the depths of the oceans could always threaten future treachery. For now, however, Yuuji found safety.

“Man, you really are like Yoda,” He laughed, filling the room with renewed brightness.

You blinked owlishly. “Yoda? What that is, I do not know.” 

Yuuji laughed harder and clasped his hands around yours. “Nah, don't worry about it. It's a good thing, though. From one of the movies Gojo-sensei made me watch.”

“I would strongly advise against taking lessons from that man, Yuuji.” Your brow creased as your hands clutched his in a death grip. “He’s not normal.”

Yuuji grinned, then, and held your hands just as tightly. “Yeah, he's weird. But he's smart, too! One of the strongest guys alive, y'know?” 

“Even the strongest can make mistakes,” you said. “Even the strongest can lose, Yuuji. Always be careful, even if victory is assured.” Your careful touch graced the curve of his cheek. “I would hate for your visits to stop.”

The sorcerer's heart beat in double-time. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

–

The leaves crinkled and rustled, flashing shades of amber and ruby in the dwindling daylight. Gone was the warmth of Summer's smile; now, the cold, fierce nip of Autumn cut through the air, whispering secrets about the first frost and what it would do to devastate the green around you.

But you were a god. A creature of fertility and good luck. And so, the grass did not die, and the forest did not wither under the coming winter's threats. 

It seemed your gifts could not reach into the depths of your soul, however. Perhaps you weren't to indulge in the privilege of what you brought the world--the mortal things around you could make use of a blessing from the divine, but could the divine themselves? Could you bring yourself a remedy to your loneliness the way you brought life unto the ground beneath your feet? 

You didn't know.

–

The end of October came, and the world trembled with the force of thousands of lives ending in misery and terror. You beheld it from your home, the sight of the clouds turning orange and red as hellfire devoured all. 

Bless me ‘n wish me luck! Gojo had said last time he swung by. Definitely don't need it, but you're my favourite cheerleader, y'know?

That was not too long ago, perhaps a day prior. Maybe it'd only been twelve hours ago since you last saw him. Three hours ago since you last felt his celestial presence upon the earth. 

“I would hate for your visits to stop,” you murmured, and your chest froze with the cold. 

–

Winter brought with it snow and darkness. Kuraokami had his ways of slipping his icy presence through the slivered cracks of wood grain no matter the time or place; the great dragon would be heard and seen if it was his final act upon the earth. 

Not even you could keep him out, the lesser deity you were. But you didn't mind the company; the cold breaths against your skin woke you from nightmares and empty blankness when you dozed and dazed, feeling the days slip by and blur together into one grey smear of solitary existence. 

Something had happened. Ever since the sky lit ablaze in a familiar scene of ungodly strength, you felt a shift in the state of existence. In your relevance in the grand scheme of the college and history. 

Your sorcerers lost their way to you, you realized. The cushions around the kotatsu stayed fluffed and untouched save for one. Five of the six clay tea cups gathered dust as they waited, hopeful, like you. 

–

You woke to the feeling of hollowness. It jostled you to consciousness, in fact; those two little unborn lives swirled and stirred, clawing at your stomach before vanishing in an instant. 

Maybe they'd grown too sick and weary of the loneliness and snow, too.

–

Sukuna had walked down this path too many times. And too many times he'd been unable to move, unable to claw his way out of the prison of his vessel to get back to you–but things were different now. 

He held a bundle of blankets close as he wandered toward a speck of verdant green amidst the snowy whiteness blanketing the forest, and remembered a distant past he yearned to return to:

Sukuna was a restless creature. He often distracted himself with challenges, duels, leafing through stolen knowledge of other clans–but, on rare occasions, none of that would appeal to his tumultuous mind. 

You always appealed to him, however. You, with your lavish tails, your exquisite appearance, your superior poise and prose, you always enthralled him, made him wonder and stare. 

Maybe it was because you were always doing something. If you weren't tending to his women, you were meandering around the palace, admiring trophies earned in whatever form they came in: art, weapons, bones. If you weren't doing that, you might be in the garden instead, fine-tuning the patterns drawn in the zen garden yourself and feeding the massive koi. If not that, then you might be asking Uraume to teach you to cook, or you could be fiddling with your loom or–well, it could be anything. 

Sometimes, you’d choose to  lay with Sukuna and keep him warm and content throughout the dreary haze of winter. 

You didn't hate winter yourself, no, but Sukuna most definitely did. The snow and ice were a pain in the ass, and they always threw the garden into a messy disarray of dead foliage and slushy mud that'd have to be tended to come springtime. And it was cold as hell outside. Who asked for that? No one. 

“My love,” you cooed as you stepped to his side while he stared out the window. “Glaring won't make the seasons change.” 

Sukuna scoffed. “That a challenge?”

“Not at all.” You reached up and smoothed his hair back, stopping pesky, rebellious strands from tickling his forehead. “I'd hate to see what you'd do in an attempt to play god.”

“I'm already a god,” he countered as he snatched your hand from his hair and looked down at you.

“Not a god of the seasons, I'm afraid.” You held his hand and pulled it down to kiss his knuckles. “But a god amidst men, nonetheless.” 

Your beast hummed deep in his chest. You had a funny way of setting his roiling soul at ease with your effortless praise and acknowledgement. 

“Knew there was a reason I kept you around,” the man purred, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours. 

You leaned up into the soft gesture like a cat too eager to be pet. “You'd be quite bored without me.” 

“No kidding. I'd go fucking mental if I didn't have you to entertain me.” His voice was a murmur, then, and softened even more when your warm hands cupped his cheeks like he was a priceless, fragile artifact: precious, special, breakable.

“Yes, yes, I go insane in your stead, loved one.” You touched your nose to his, then, before placing the softest of kisses upon his lips. 

A light, sighed grumble slipped past Sukuna's lips when your skin left his. It was his turn to nudge his nose against yours, earning himself a petal-like smile from his prized possession, before he blessed you in return, trying to match the kindness you'd met him with. 

You held the front of his garbs as you leaned up into him, and his hands all found their places on your smaller frame in return, pulling you closer, keeping you against him. He hardly wanted anything like this in the past before you came along and tore his mind and soul to pieces before hunkering down in the hollow of his ribs and setting up shop. It was aggravating. Captivating. 

“Come,” you softly beckoned, slipping away from his desperate hold and leading him back to the bundle of blankets and linens he’d learned to accept as a bed.

As always, he had no choice but to follow, abandoning his mad-dogging of the outside world to join you and the infinite warmth his personal Amaterasu brought him. 

“You’re lazy as hell in the winter,” Sukuna noted as he sat himself down in the middle of your nest and let you get to work adjusting blankets and such around the both of you for optimal comfort. 

“You're free to traipse off into the snow if you so wish.” You settled yourself by Sukuna's side and tucked under his heavy arms. “I will remain here. Warm. Dry. At peace.” 

Sukuna rolled his eyes and pulled you close to his side, squeezing a chirped purr from your chest. “Think I'll pass on the snow.” 

You smiled to yourself, feeling warm and content with the settling silence engulfing you as the snow engulfed the world. Winter was the only season where he'd stay by your side, so you often indulged in it, bothering him and sticking to him like a needy pet until spring inevitably rolled around to ruin your happy spell. Because Sukuna was more wild and feral than you. He had to go wander, to go fight. Otherwise, he'd have no purpose. 

Unbeknownst to you, he may have another purpose in mind. 

His hand breached your clothes and reached down, stopping just above your navel to your surprise. There, he drew gentle, thoughtful circles against your skin. You felt pulses of cursed energy flicker and feel, searching for something neither of you yet knew of. 

“What is it you're looking for?” You murmured, knowing full well what he sought.

Sukuna inhaled deeply and exhaled just as heavy. “How long does it take to get one god knocked up, huh?” He tutted and looked down at you, holding an annoyed look while you met him with doey, lovey eyes as you leaned into him more. 

“I'm sure you'll be the man who finds out.”

Sukuna grinned to himself and adjusted the lump of blankets he held. Arrogant pride blossomed in his chest alongside his bolstered ego; if he could do this as a mere man, what could he do as a curse? 

The king sighed as he breached the warmth of the halo surrounding your humble, comfy abode. He was getting sick of the shit weather in the games, all the cold and emptiness. Being near you was what he needed. 

“Oi, don't make a fuss,” Sukuna grumbled lowly to the whining duo he adjusted in his arms. “You wanna get inside or not?” 

But before he could make use of his newly freed arm, the doors slid open before him. 

And you stood there. Tired. Disheveled. Eyes big and hopeful, yet rimmed with disbelief and shock as you stared at your man and the package he brought to your doorstep. 

Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't melt, too. Being here, standing firm and whole and so very real and untethered in the spot other sorcerers stood in their attempt to spirit you away from him–it was the reason for his existence. 

And so was your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. 

“Ho? So you did miss me, huh?” He hummed, looping an arm around you and pressing you closer to him. “Sure didn't act like it earlier.”

“I didn't wish to believe in something that felt untrue,” you murmured into his shoulder. “Even now, you're not…entirely yourself.” 

Sorrow stained the undertones of your voice. Whether it was for the fate of Fushiguro Megumi, or for the state of your lover, Sukuna did not know. 

But he was here. He was tangible. He was in control. Finally. 

“At least I'm here, yeah?” He said. And you nodded. 

You led him inside and into the room filled with comfort and warmth. Works of embroidery lined the once-unremarkable tapestries draping down from the ceilings and walls, and the wooden pillars now boasted intricate carvings in various states of completion. Seemed like you'd gotten quite bored in your wait. 

Sukuna sat with you, being the man to finally make use of the fluffed cushions around the kotatsu as he dragged it to your side to stay close. You needed it. He thirsted for it.

The bundle whined and cooed as soon as Sukuna’s ass hit the cushion, and he sighed. “Think you can take care of this, fox?” He teased, but felt a rush of something overtake him when he caught you with your ears perked, tails swishing, back straight as you stared down at the bundle. 

He eased them into your arms and, with shaking hands, you pulled back the wooly linen to find two perfect little treasures staring up at you with big, red-lined eyes. One held the colour of yours, while the other took responsibility for sporting Sukuna's hues, but both boys’ eyes glimmered with divine flecks of gold and amber. Their hair blushed with the colour of sakura petals, and two, itty bitty tufts of soft onyx ears dotted both of their heads like chocolate chips in strawberry ice cream. 

Two perfect kits. Your perfect kits. 

“You seriously wanted these things?” Sukuna asked, teasing and rude, but softer and warmer than the fire burning in your chest. “Gotta say, they're pretty fucking annoying.”

You swathed your tails around them and purred with the ferocity of an avalanche as you leaned into your partner and doted on the teeny tiny babies he'd somehow brought back to the land of the living. A part of you felt guilty for what this could mean. The rest of you screamed, I don't care. 

“Look at them,” You whispered, tracing the roundness of their cheeks with a gentle touch. “They're beautiful.” 

“Well, lookit who their parents are.” Sukuna chuckled and held you against his side, which you eagerly melted into. “Kenjaku had a plan for them too, turns out. Who woulda thought?”

“You never told me,” you said. “Why did you not tell me?” 

“You would've been pissed,” Sukuna said, voice matter of fact. “Better to just do it and reap the benefits later.”

You looked up at him, and found his gaze locked onto you. “That's quite selfish.”

“I'm a king. I can do whatever I want. I can have whatever I want,” He reminded you. “As soon as I take care of a few pathetic, loose ends, everything'll be in place. Right where it all needs to be. And life goes back to normal." 

Your heart did something funny when you read between the lines. “Must you–”

“Don't question me.” Sukuna grabbed your chin and forced you to look down at your snoozing babes. “You’ll lose this. All of this. You'll be left with nothing all over again if I don’t finish this off. That what you want, fox?” 

“You know the answer,” you murmured, too content to let him guide you and sway your reason. He tugged your chin toward him, forcing you to look his way again.

“Tell me anyway.” Tell me what I want to hear.

How could you refuse? 

“No matter the case," you murmured, soft as forgotten winter snow, "you will always have my favour, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

–

Forever to be loved, herein lays a God's young,

Imprisoned by none, held dearly by the Disgraced One. 

[blainesebastian]

teasing

word count: 956 pairing: austin butler x female reader rating: NC-17 summary: anon request "can u do an austin fic w him teasing the reader pls? maybe teasing her saying how much his voice turns her on etc" notes: heed the rating--this is a self-indulgent spicy post. probably not as much fluff as you wanted, given that we're dealing with this man's voice. notes2: austin butler masterlist

“I think you like it.”

Your eyes roll back into your head as you focus on making lunch, one foot in front of the other, so to speak. You have to concentrate on your movements because Austin isn’t exactly wrong. Honestly, this is all your fault, you know that. One round of dirty talk in bed, now all of a sudden Austin thinks he’s a god.

Well…

“I think,” You look at him over your shoulder as he leans back against the counter in the kitchen, “Your head is gettin’ too big to walk through some of the doorways.”

Austin grins, “One head is definitely gettin’ big.”

You scoff out laugh that is supposed to sound like you’re annoyed at how bad that innuendo is, but you’re not. Not by a long shot. There’s heat pooling in the center of your core. Fucking Austin Butler. You turn your attention back to making lunch, opening the fridge to put mayo away, and closing it.

You’re hyper aware of how his body moves even though you can’t see him. Being together for so long, it’s just something you can sense. There’s a quiet shift, he steps closer, and suddenly his chest is against your back. A gentle touch but the heat of his body and the smell of his skin is so intoxicating.

You shiver just a little.

Austin runs his hands down your arms and it stills your movements on the counter, suddenly forgetting this lunch that felt so important ten minutes ago. You can feel his breath brush against your neck before he presses a kiss to your pulse point.

“I think…I know what I saw last night.” He says, his voice like gravel along the shell of your ear.

Oh you’re definitely not playing this game, “Oh yeah?” You raise your eyebrows, turning your head just a little for your noses to brush, “What’d you see?”

He smiles, holding your gaze, his hand skittering across your stomach, dipping lower. You can’t help but shift back into him, giving him more space. “I saw how wet you got when I started talkin’ to you,” He undoes the buttons on your shorts, zipper following, his ring snagging a bit on the fabric but he gets his hand exactly where you want it.

In your panties.

“Like you are right now.” He brushes his thumb over slick heat and sharp noise leaves your lips.

A groan follows and you lift one of your hands to cover your face, “God, you’re so annoying.”

Austin chuckles, his other hand taking yours away from hiding your expression. He presses a kiss to your jawline, wrapping his arm around you as he eases you back against him, his fingers spreading you, pointer finger dipping in wetness before circling a bundle of nerves.

“Austin,” You breathe out.

He hums lightly, drawing another kiss to your cheek, “I got you,” He whispers, “…as soon as you admit you know what I’m talkin’ about.”

Fucking tease.

You shake your head quickly and almost make the decision to leave his embrace, but he’s holding onto you to the point where you can’t move…even if you wanted to.

“You like that baby?” He asks, “You like the sound of my voice in your ear?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, tipping your head back until it lands on his shoulder. A shuddered moan leaves your throat as he teases you, one finger, then two, always special attention to your clit. You shift back further, grinding a bit against him, you can feel how hard he is along your back and that only edges you forward.

Your breathing picks up, your neck exposed as another full bodied shudder works through you. God this so unfair. You can feel Austin smile against your throat, pressing another kiss there, your legs widening to accommodate his hand. 

“M’not gonna let you cum until you admit it.” 

And just like that, he brings you to a peak and leaves you there. A whine of frustration bubbles in your throat. 

“God, you fucking suck.” You snap. 

Austin smirks, pressing a soothing kiss to your jaw as his finger circles your clit. Too slow. “Kinda like it when you yell at me.” 

You roll your hips back into his cock and he stills you to stop, squeezing your hip. “C’mon.” Austin slips his fingers inside you again, thumb brushing your clit, lips against the shell of your ear. 

“You like the sound of my voice—against your neck, your lips, your ear—”  He picks up the pace of his hand again, your breathing quickening. “Here.” He presses his thumb against your clit. 

Fuck okayokayokay—

“I do—fine, I do, Austin please.” 

Austin smiles, pressing the sweetest kiss to your cheek. “Good girl.” 

No sooner do the words leave his mouth does he give you what you want and it doesn’t take you very much to tumble right over the edge—especially in combination with that praise. You squeeze your eyes shut and let go, pulse after pulse of pleasure roaring through you that Austin draws out before you’re boneless against him.

His body holds yours up and when he slips his hand out of your jean shorts, you turn in the embrace and lean heavily along his chest, tucking your face into his neck. He smiles, dipping his chin and pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose. Wrapping your arms loosely around his waist, he keeps you close for a few long moments as your high settles down.

“Forget lunch,” He says after a moment, quickly lifting you up so that your legs wrap around him. “M’hungry for somethin’ else.” You can’t help but laugh as he carries you towards the bedroom

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

Retrogression by Dazai Osamu

Translated by A. L. Raye

"He was not an old man. He was only around 25 years old, but at the same time he was, undoubtedly, an old man. For every year that a normal person lived, this old man lived it three times over." - Dazai Osamu, "Retrogression"

"And so, through Dazai’s own efforts, I hope that a day will come to pass where Dazai’s work will be instinctively understood by a great many people." - Satō Haruo, "A Respectable Yet Tormented Soul: Regarding Dazai Osamu"

"Having been metaphorically torn apart by his critics, every time he finished writing anything - anything at all - regardless of public opinion, the wounds of his humiliation would ache more and more, so keenly and so painfully, that the unfulfilled hollow in his heart spread further and deeper until finally, he died. He was deceived by the illusion of a masterpiece, enchanted by an eternal beauty, carried away by a fever cream and ultimately couldn't even save himself..." - Dazai Osamu, "Retrogression"

"I’ll stab him! I thought. What an absolute scoundrel! It didn’t take long however before I suddenly felt the hot and twisted love you bore towards me, an intense love which reminded me of Nellie from Dostoyevsky’s Humiliated and Insulted, a love that I felt deep within my heart. No. No, how could this be? I couldn’t believe it, I shook my head but that love of yours, concealed behind that cold exterior, felt Dostoyevskian in its deranged passion and made my body burn feverishly at the thought. And of course, you were completely unaware of any of this." - Dazai Osamu, "Letter to Kawabata Yasunari"

"Don’t say behind someone’s back what you can’t say to their face. I followed this principle and for that I was thrown into the looney bin." - Dazai Osamu, "Human Lost"

"Somebody put a live snake in my letterbox. I’m furious! This must be the work of someone who enjoys making fun of unpopular writers who feel the need to check their letterboxes twenty times a day. I was in a strange mood after that, and spent the rest of the day in bed." - Dazai Osamu, "Diary of My Distress"

"I’m jumping at shadows. I feel like my body has been ground up and picked clean, right down to the bone." - Dazai Osamu, "Human Lost"

"It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It really wasn’t supposed to be this way. You of all people should be clearly aware that being a writer exists within a perpetual state of ‘foolishness’." - Dazai Osamu, "Letter to Kawabata Yasunari"

"The cicada realised in the afternoon that it was going to die soon. Ah, it would have been better if I had been happier! I should have fooled around more, with nary a care in the world. Oh, do forgive me, I just wish to fall asleep among the flowers." - Dazai Osamu, "Human Lost"

"He has the kind of romantic spirit of a selfish, good-for-nothing wastrel, but more than that, he has let this seep deep down into the very marrow of his being. The uninhibited yet fragile self flows out of control, and it is the lot in life of this particular variety of man to continually contemplate himself until his self-awareness becomes intertwined with his bones." - Satō Haruo, "A Respectable Yet Tormented Soul: Regarding Dazai Osamu"

"Now, within the limits I have allowed myself, I believe I have accomplished everything I set out to do. As for the rest, I calmly entrust myself to fate." - Dazai Osamu, "January Letter to Satō Haruo from Dazai Osamu"

From the Introduction by translator A. L. Raye:

"This book aims to piece together the fractured and disorderly lifestyle of one of history's greatest romantics and pairs it with a particular moment in his life; losing the Akutagawa Prize. The ensuing drama that unfolded through private letters, newspaper articles, diaries, obituaries, and fiction created a scandal that disturbed the early Showa literati with its coarse and indecent honesty. Dazai's fiction, fiction about Dazai, speculation and reality intertwined to create an explosive event that not only changed the desired trajectory of his life but also raised issues of discrimination within prominent literary circles and the treatment of mental illness in 1930s Japan."

"If we encounter Dazai without taking into account modern ideas of disability, there is a danger we might subject him to the same myth-making mindset that surrounds Van Gough; that of a tortured genius who needed to suffer for his art - or, perhaps more accurately, for our entertainment."

"Dazai was a complicated man, a man who couldn't even decide for himself who he was."

Retrogression also includes annotations and background information on every story, letter, diary, and eulogy, adding history and insights that are difficult to find available in other English translations so far.

You can find more information and free translations on Yobanashi Café. Retrogression is available for purchase in either paperback or eBook format on Amazon.

[pucked-bunnie]

shocks and surprises⎜e.pettersson

pairings: elias pettersson x reader ⎜ft platonic quinn x reader prompt: "just tell me what you want from me." genre: romance ⎜fluff warnings: unexpected pregnancy ⎜ stressed reader ⎜ supportive elias⎜descriptions of mild panic attacks ⎜ synopsis: you can't help but be proud when elias gets invited to all star weekend - a little surprise puts a small spanner in the works word count: 2.6k authors note:  I already had this little Elias story planned but a prompt request I got fit in perfectly so i merged the two - it's short and sweet so I hope you all enjoy!

(unedited)

“Mother fucker.” The swear words slip out as you stare down at the plastic stick in your hand - the two bright red lines staring you in the face. 

“Everything okay in there?” Elias’s voice carries through the closed bathroom door, the wood creaking as he leans his weight against it. “We have to get going if we’re going to make it to the airport in time.” He says softly, as you take a deep breath, staring down at the test one more time before throwing it into the bin next to you - standing to flush the toilet and wash your hands.  

“Baby, are you sure you’re okay? You do look a little pale.” Elias asks as he lifts his hand to press against your forehead, frowning before he drops it back to his side. “You feel a little warm.”

“I’m okay, Elias.” You reassure him, a small smile stretching on your face as you move past him to grab your bags from beside the bed. “Just have a bit of a tummy ache is all.” You explain, your boyfriend understanding your explanation with a tight nod, before grabbing his own suitcase off the floor, motioning for you to lead the way out of your apartment. 

You don’t know why your first reaction is to pretend that nothing was wrong.

To pretend like those little red lines had never happened. 

But this weekend was supposed to be about him. 

Elias keeps his hand on your thigh the whole Uber ride to the airport, his fingers tapping gently against the fabric of your pants, the both of you looking out your respective windows, your brain spinning a hundred miles an hour as you glance over at your boyfriend. 

You had met Elias through his teammate Quinn - you and Quinn had known each other for years, meeting back in high school and becoming fast friends. In his second year in the NHL Quinn had invited you to come watch one of his games, wanting to catch up when he found out you were moving to Vancouver for work - and it was in a small bar near his shared apartment you had met the quiet swede, Elias being Quinn’s roommate and deciding to join the two of you for dinner after their game. 

Though your first few interactions left you confused about whether the stoic man actually enjoyed your company, it was the constant appearance of Elias whenever you were close by that helped you feel that maybe the tall hockey player did feel something towards you. 

As your Uber pulled up to the airport, Elias thanked him as the driver rounded the car to help you pull your luggage from the trunk, wishing the two of you well on your flight before pulling away from the curb. Elias watched you as you tugged your suitcase behind you, your eyes trained on the ground in front of you and your hand tight on the handle of your bag as the two of you made your way to the private boarding lounge with his teammate already waiting. 

He knew something was wrong from the moment you rushed to the bathroom after getting off the phone with your sister, your eyes wide and panicked as he followed after you. His concerns were confirmed when you slammed the door closed behind you, twisting the lock on the handle leaving him sitting at the end of your bed waiting for you to finish. 

“You made it.” Quinn’s voice snaps Elias’s gaze off you, one side of his mouth tilting as he nods his head in greeting to his fellow teammates, clapping his hand against Quinn’s outstretched one. 

“Only just.” Elias says jokingly, pulling away from his friend, watching as Quinn sweeps you up in a tight hug, the first genuine smile Elias had seen on your face all day, making his stomach flip like it always did when you smiled. 

It was his favourite thing to look at. 

“Looking as wonderful as always.” Quinn comments as he sets you back on the ground, his hands rubbing on your shoulder as he takes you in, despite seeing you less then two weeks ago. “Work must be keeping you busy, we haven’t seen you in ages.” He adds and you just nod, your mouth feeling dry. 

“She’s not feeling too good today.” Elias says as he slides up besides you - his arm sliding around your waist as he tugs you against his side, his warmth forcing your body to relax a little bit. Quinn shoots you a sympathetic smile as he turns to grab his bags when your flight attendant comes to gather you all for the private flight. 

“Let me take this.” Elias whispers as you reach for your suitcase, his hand grabbing hold of the handle first as he presses a gentle kiss against your cheek before moving forwards with both your suitcases in hand. Elias reaches out for you again as he hands your luggage off to the baggage workers standing besides the plane as you make your way onto the tarmac, his hand gripping your tightly as he leads you up the steps behind him, the two of you quickly finding a set of available seats before settling into the comfortable leather. 

The group let out an excited yell as the flight attendant makes her rounds with glasses of champagne - each of them swiping a glass as they wait for the pilot to prepare for take off. “Ma’am would you like a glass?” The attendant as she reaches your seats, already placing the glass in front of you before you get a chance to answer. 

You can feel your heart drop as you look at the sparkling glass in front of you. 

Your stomach turns as you feel nausea rise in your throat. 

Your breathing quickening as your eyes glaze over, watering just slightly as the heaviness in your belly. 

You know you’re overreacting but the sight of the alcohol in front of you is a reminder of the secret you aren’t quite ready to share - a short panic quickly interrupted by the sound of your boyfriend talking. 

“Would you mind switching this for a glass of apple juice?” Elias asks the attendant softly as she makes her way back down the aisle, his hand swiping the alcohol off the table in front of you as he hands it back to her. She nods quickly, taking the full glass down to the back of the plane swiftly, returning with a similar glass with a much less bubbly beverage. Elias nods his thanks to her as he places the glass back down in front of you without a word. 

“You know you can tell me if something is wrong, right?” Elias speaks so softly you can barely hear him over the chatter of his teammates and their families.  His hand finds its normal place on your thigh, his finger rubbing softly, reassuringly against your leg as you nod your head, your words still stuck in your throat, as the pilot announces over the intercom that the flight is ready for take off. 

Despite being a very quiet person, Elias has always been incredibly physical. He always needed some part of him to be touching some part of you to be content - his hand commonly finding purchase on your thigh or on the small of your back, but his favourite was when your two hands would clasp around one of his, squeezing tightly. 

The flight from Vancouver to Toronto took around four and a half hours - most of the excitement had worn off after about an hour, everyone settling into their seats and the cabin lights dimming slightly as everyone relaxed.

Elias’s gaze is trained on you, your eyes closed, head leaning gently against his arm and both of your hands wrapped around his, his oversized hoodie thrown on to fight the cold of winter. 

“She’s been quieter than usual.” Quinn comments, as he stops his walk down the aisle of the plane watching Elias watch you. 

“Somethings wrong, but she isn’t ready to tell me yet.” Elias says to his captain, his free hand reaching over to move some loose hair out of your face, your nose wrinkling at the small tickle on the side of your face. “I’m just worried she’s holding it all in, it’s gotta come out eventually.” He adds, Quinn nodding at his teammates words. 

“She’ll tell you, she probably just needs time.” Elias finally moves his gaze of you to glance over to his friends, a thankful expression on his face, as Quinn claps him on the shoulder before moving back towards his seat. 

Elias doesn’t sleep the whole flight - one hand scrolling through his phone the other still trapped in between yours as the flight attendant announces that landing would begin shortly. Elias tucks his phone into his jumper pocket, before reaching his now empty hand to gently cup your face, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek. 

“Baby? We’re about to land.” He whispers quietly, your eyebrows furrowing in a frown as you let out a soft groan. “You need to wake up, princess.” He says again, chuckling as one of your hands releases his to swat away his hand on your face. 

“I’m awake.” You huff as you swat at his hand again, pulling your face out of his reach, letting go of his hand to rub at your eyes - the lights in the cabin turning back on as the plane makes its descent. 

“Sleep well?” He questions softly, your head nodding as you pout. Elias’s face lights up with a fond smile as he adds, “You can sleep more at the hotel, the event doesn’t begin until tomorrow.” 

As the plane hits the tarmac, you pick up your phone from your lap, turning off airplane mode - the screen lighting up with missed messages. 

‘So…what did the test say?’  The message from your sister, puts a new frown on your face, tucking your phone quickly into the hoodies pocket before Elias can get a glimpse at the message. 

‘It’s okay if it’s positive and it’s okay if it’s negative.’ 

‘Have you and Elias talked about this yet?’ 

‘You’re probably flying now, but call me if you need anything.’ 

The messages continue pinging from your phone, Elias raising a brow as he glances down at the device in your pocket. “Are you gonna answer those?” You just shake your head, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as your eyes start to water. 

Not again. 

Everything is blurred by the rushing of your minds, Elias’s hand in yours the only thing keeping your body moving as you try to focus on breathing slowly - the voices around you sounding muffled as Elias wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling you against him tightly. 

“We’re gonna go straight to the hotel, she's feeling pretty bad.” You hear your boyfriend explain to your friends as he grabs your luggage rushing you off the tarmac and into the first taxi that stops. 

The ride to the hotel is silent, your hands clasped together, your gaze not leaving the floor - Elias watches your closely as he takes the lead, checking the two of you in quickly, guiding you up into the hotel room without a hitch, leaving the suitcases by the door as he follows you into your hotel room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Elias asks as he watches you wander around the room, your teeth nibbling on the side of your thumb, a nervous habit Elias hadn’t seen in a while. 

“Huh?” You ask, your head snapping up and your arms dropping to your sides - your gaze flicking around the hotel room in confusion before focusing back on your boyfriend. 

He looks tired - is all you can think as you take him in - a lump getting caught in your throat. 

“I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” He explains, his hands reaching out for yours, pulling you to stand between his legs as he looks up at you. “What is going on?” He asks again, expecting the way you let out a choked sob. 

He was expecting the way the tears slipped down your cheeks. 

He was definitely expecting the way you try to stop crying almost immediately, feeling ashamed at showing your overwhelming emotions. 

“It’s okay to be upset” He says softly, reaching up to gently swipe the tears off your face, “But I want to understand why you’re so upset.” Your tears fall harder at the soft expression on his face. 

The words still seem impossible to get out. 

“Baby, I need you to be super honest with me.” He starts when he realizes you aren’t managing to speak yet, your panic still in control. “Are you pregnant?” 

Everything stops. 

The tears, the gasping for air, the constant whirring in your head. 

“What?” You can’t help but ask, confused as to how Elias had figured it out so quickly. 

“I saw the test box in the garbage bin before we left - and you haven’t had your period in two months.” He explains, his hands smoothing up and down your arms as he speaks. 

“How do you even know that?” Your voice is a whisper, a soft smile blooming on Elias’s face as you finally manage to speak. 

“I have a tracker on my phone - I just wanna make sure I know when to make you comfortable.” He says gently. 

He pauses for a moment, watching you suck in deep gulps of air before asking again, “are you pregnant?” He watches as your face crumples again, your head nodding your answer as he pulls you into his body, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he tries to soothe you. 

“When were you going to tell me?” He asks, patient for your answer. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to ruin the weekend.” You answer, your head tucked against his shoulder as you manage to calm down. 

“Why would this ruin the weekend? Isn’t this good news?” Elias asks, his hand stroking the back of your head softly, as he rocks the two of your side to side. 

“Is it?” You ask back, pulling your head away from his shoulder to glance down at him. “We’ve never even talked about something like this happening before, Elias.” He just nods, understanding your concerns as his hands move to stroke against your back. 

“Is it something you want?” He asks, the question making you falter slightly. 

“I don’t know.” 

“That’s okay.” He affirms, smiling up at you. “We don’t have to know everything right now, but I don’t think this is a bad thing.” His words are gentle as per usual, the sassy man always had a sweet spot for you - always knowing what to say and when to say it. 

“Just tell me what you want from me, and I’ll give it to you.” He explains, “If you’re not ready then we can figure something out - I want whatever you want.” He continues, leaning forwards to press a kiss against your wet cheek, your head nodding furiously as you take in what he says. 

“Okay.” You speak quietly, returning his growing grin. 

“Okay.” He responds, his arms pulling you back to his chest in a crushing hug - the excitement radiating off him. “I hope it’s a girl.” He adds quietly, your heart racing as images of Elias with a little girl on his shoulders race through your mind, tears starting to well up in your eyes again. 

“Pregnancy hormones really are no joke.” Elias chirps, his thumbs wiping at the fresh tears with a chuckle as you smack at his chest.

[tonyboneysblog]

MOTHER HEN: PART TEN

parings: hawks x mother!reader

wordcount: 3k

notes: GET PRANKED IM POSTING I ACTUALLY FINSHED PART TEN (also there’s two more parts left n im so sad😔)

warnings: angst: but then fluffly comfort😘

summary: you, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! Who caught the eye of a certain pro.

something was wrong with hawks.

I mean he’s always a little weird, but this is different somehow?

sure the two of you have only been dating for about a week, you don’t expect him to show his skin and bones to you.

but he seems like he’s hiding something.

and he looks more…exhausted somehow?

and you know for a fact that he’s at least getting sleep because he’s always cuddled up in your sheets by the times you get home from late shifts.

much to Fumikages dismay.

he’s more upset that hawks took his spot in the bed though.

and that hawks scared the hell out of him when he casually flew through your balcony.

but you don’t except hawks to open up, but you’d like him to know your a good shoulder to cry on.

but it would get better right? wrong.

hawks got more nervous as the weeks went by, even when Fumikage interned with him- which you begged Fumikage to do- he still was antsy.

you two are adults right? You can have a great amazing conversation about eachothers feelings right?

so that’s what you were planning on doing tonight after you got home from the hospital.

Fumikages now at the dorms sadly so you and hawks have the time to speak.

when you finally clocked out you drove home like usual, got home around 12:40 which is the betters times.

Unlocking and opening the door to your home, you craned your head to see if you could see the tufts of blonde hair you liked so much.

wasn’t there though.

so you closed the door, walked through the house searching for hawks.

He had to be home right? You even asked him what time he would be home and it was definitely passed the 9:00 he was so proud of.

Hawks liked getting home early.

But here you were all alone in the house you were supposed to have company in?

You take your phone out from your pocket, calling him.

it rang, no one picked up.

so now you were slightly worried, and confused too.

hawks told you one night that he’d answer your calls immediately.

he thought you’d get too worried about him not answering after what happened with Fumikage.

and he was right, you are worried.

you rang again, no answer.

you shouldn’t be worried- he was probably just fighting a villain right?

fighting one when he isn’t even on the clock.

maybe his phone died- even though he always kept it charged.

bad reception? no he’s always texting and flying in that damn sky.

where in the world would he be-

“Hey mama bird.” He walks through the door with his hero outfit on.

You turned around with a small yelp, scared by his sudden intrusion.

“Hawks- you worried me sick, weren’t you supposed to be off by now?” You say slightly hurried.

he chuckles softly, “calm down, I got a call, had to answer, you know the drill.”

“I don’t, I’m not a hero.”

He huffs at a small laugh, you weren’t joking though.

Hawks walks over towards your room, presumably going to go change out of the hero clothes he was supposed to be out of three hours before.

you follow after, your socks padding on the ground silently.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“Did I? M’sorry I was busy.” He says apolitically.

No context, just that he was busy- isn’t that amazing Y/N?!

Hawks moseys over to your bathroom, “now if you don’t mind me- I have to change.”

He almost shuts the door until you stop it with your foot.

He looks up at you, slightly surprised with a curious glint in his eye.

You sigh- something has to be done about him.

“We should talk, after you change.”

He smiles, “I was planning on talking to

you.”

“No- we need to talk, it’s serious hawks.” your tone a little more aggressive than you’d like it to be.

hawks watches your expression, only staying okay until he mumbles a small, “okay.”

You remove from the door so he can close it, then you walk towards the living room.

Sure- you were a tad bit mean but he’s been worrying you for weeks.

even Fumikage asked if everything was alright with him- maybe hawks grew on him a little but still.

truthfully, you can not take another failed relationship- especially with another hero.

You sit on the couch, your shoulders tense waiting for Hawks entrance.

Maybe you working so much is forcing him to hide things? Maybe he just doesn’t wanna stress you.

Hell your a mother- some grown hero problems aren’t going to sway you.

not after Fumikages my little pony phase.

or the Pokémon one, or when he thought he was a unicorn for two weeks because some kid convinced him he was.

Then walks in hawks, sitting near you tapping his foot anxiously.

“What did you wanna talk about?” His voice doesn’t waver.

“You.”

Hawks expression doesn’t really change.

“What about me?”

“I mean- are you okay?” You grab his hands gently.

He chuckles, “I’m fine, are you okay?”

You sigh, “Hawks…I’m serious.”

“And I’m seriously okay, nothings going on.” He smiles, you know it’s plastered on.

“Why’d you come home at twelve? I thought you were the fastest.”

“I had business.”

Business? What business takes three hours.

“Could you tell me about it?” You try to say softly.

“It’s boring- you wouldn’t wanna hear.”

“What’re you hiding?”

Hawks goes quiet, his foot tapping halts.

He’s got quite the poker face on, but the secrets in his wings that are oh so tensed.

“I’m nothing hiding anything.”

his tapping starts back up, wings tense.

“Oh yeah?”

He hums, “yeah.”

Hawks truly didn’t even know what type of tactic to use on you with all the hero commission training, you also read him through his damn wings no matter how good of an act he played.

“Look- I’m just worried.”

Hawks smiles, removing his hands from yours to tap your chin.

“About little old me?”

But hawks knew you were a woman who “didn’t participate in romantic relationships” and he’d use that to his advantage.

He’s not telling you shit.

Your face is solid, “yes, I’m worried since you’ve been acting weird.”

“What if I told you I was just trying to control myself hm?” He says with a small smirk on his face.

what in the world is he on about?

Your brows furrow in confusion, “what?”

hawks pouts, “I mean Fumikages always around, I can’t do nothing without the guy yelling at me.”

He wouldn’t tell you about his new mission.

it’d break you.

“I mean- yeah that’s true but he’s at the dorms-” hawks hand slowly crawls to your waist then places a finger to your lips with a small “shhh.”

He whispers in your ear softly, “I’m just…a little pent up? want some alone time with my lady y’know?”

it’s not like hawks was completely lying to you, he just couldn’t tell you the truth.

You trip over your words, “yeah, I-i understand.”

Hawks chuckles, his breath hitting the side of your face, “Am I making you nervous?”

Suddenly, he starts pecking the side of your neck over and over again- quickly.

It’s makes laughter bubble out of your throat.

You can hear hawks giggles through his pursed lips.

and hawks was a little prideful that his distraction worked.

slowly but surely hawks little kisses were getting more slow and deliberate, soft and gentle.

He was comfortable laying over you as you laid on the couch, your head being propped up by the arm rest.

hawks was enjoying himself, until your cup his face with a less than happy expression.

kinda made him shiver a little- he would t tell you that though.

“Hawks…you can tell me yknow?”

His damn wings flutter softly against his back before he can stop them.

“Already told you, I just missed you.”

He wouldn’t tell you.

You sigh softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“Alright, I’ll drop it.”

Then it got quiet, which is what hawks wanted but…he kinda liked that you worried so much.

but he still wouldn’t tell you.

You run your fingers through his hair, catching your fingers through the knots.

Hawks feels your throat vibrating as you hum a tune he can almost recognize.

He liked this.

Lying to you makes him feel way better if you treat him like this right after.

he’d like to be treated like this for the rest of his life.

You can feel hawks tension basically melt into you. Like putty almost.

You can’t stop staring at him, if he didn’t become a hero he would’ve been a great model.

Sometimes hawks would complain about all the clothing company’s that contacted him to model, but after you told him you like seeing him all dressed up in magazine he quickly changed his tune.

maybe you took your admiration with hawks too far sometimes, always trying to fit every detail on his face into your brain before he woke up late.

A couple minutes pass by, the familiar tune changes slowly into something hawks can no longer recognize.

He likes it, so he raises his head.

he won’t lie when he says he felt shy at your gaze.

“What’s the song your humming?” He says sleepily.

You smile, “Made it myself, it’s called my boyfriend won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Hawks scoffs, then kisses you softly.

He doesn’t want you staring at him, like he’s a good person. Like he’s something.

You rub his back softly, scratching his wings like you would a cats fur.

When he retreats from the kiss, there it is again.

That stare.

he doesn’t like it.

You look at him like he hasn’t killed, like he hung the stars, like he was born for a reason.

Maybe the reason was to meet you.

hawks thinks it’s a wonderful reason for a moment, he doesn’t feel the first tear fall until he recognizes your face filed with concern.

You cup his head gently into your chest.

“H-hey, hey..what’s wrong hawks?” You say sweetly, your kindness leaking like coming from your mouth.

He hates how he retreats more into you, clutching your scrubs like it’s his lifeline.

You can hear him mumble out apologizes, one after another.

You don’t know what he’s apologizing for though.

“O-oh god- Y/N m’so sorry.” He muffles out from your scrubs.

You card through his hair, “hawks it’s okay, I’m not mad.”

And you wait until his breathes slow, until he stops shaking.

And he can’t bring himself to see you look at him that way again.

He sits up, looking away from you.

You rise as well, rubbing his back.

You watch him lean into his hands, covering his face.

“Hawks, I’m not angry- just tell me you’re okay.” Your voice no longer as strong as it used to be.

he shakes his head. Could he tell you?

no. No, he can’t the commission would have his head for leaking information to a civilian.

would you tell though?

he has so much he wants to spill to you, so- so much.

he doesn’t have to spill the mission yet. He can’t.

“Hawks-“

He could tell you the truth about himself.

“Keigo.” His voice doesn’t shake.

You freeze for a moment, “what?”

“That’s my real name, Keigo Takami.”

You pause for a moment, soaking in the information.

Hawks can’t stop the words from spewing out his mouth, you have that effect on him y’know?

“My parents gave me hell when I was born, I lived in some run down shack and my dad would always make it his mission to hit me real good when I turned my back from him, and-“

Hawks was rambling, it was hard for you to process everything but you got the memo.

His voice was strained slightly when he finished.

He retreats back to his hands, his wings over his shoulders. “I-I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore that hearing that.”

You let out a nervous laugh, “ha- keigo. Why would I leave you?”

Hawks lifts his face from his hands to look at you.

He trips over his words slightly, “because..I-i have too much baggage? that’s what Mirko says.”

“Keigo, ever since Ryuji..” you reach to grab a hold of his face, “I thought I was done for.”

Hawks places his hands on your forearms, but he doesn’t make them move one bit.

“I thought no one would love me after that, but then you flew in. With your dumb wing and cute hair.”

Hawks doesn’t break eye contact with you, you wonder if he even blinked.

“And you tried to be my son’s friend- and you taught him to be a good hero. To be like you.”

He’s sniffles, you can tell he’s trying to keep it together.

“Then you came to me, and I want you to stay even when you’re all old and wrinkly and your wings can barely move like they use to.”

You rub soft circles into hawks cheeks, he enjoys the feeling.

“I’d gladly patch you up after every fight- kiss every mark better. I want you to stay with me- I need you to Keigo.”

Hawks looks down, “I’ll stay then.” He mumbles out.

You candle his head back down to your chest, kissing his head softly.

And all hawks can do is soak it in.

You accepted this part of him, would you except the other?

the one where he’s actively helping the league.

the same one that hurt your Fumikage?

Would you still want him in your home after that?

He doesn’t understand why his heart doesn’t ache at the aspect.

part of him already knows you’d coddle and kiss him after he told you.

part of him knows you wouldn’t blame him for it.

yet he can’t get the words out of his mouth.

maybe it’s cause he can’t move, he feels so safe in your arms so what’s the point?

So safe he rests.

Was telling you about his past the right call?

you don’t really care where hawks came from, just where he is now.

and now he’s with you.

and soon Fumikage will be home, and maybe just maybe he’ll finally accept the “group cuddle” you’d been pushing him to do.

And when you wake, there’s your beautiful boys.

One on top of you and one glaring daggers at you from the door.

“Mother.” Fumikage calls.

“Fumi…”

He sighs, throwing his duffel onto the ground.

“Back from dorm life I see…”

Fumikage huffs a small laugh, he begged Aizawa to let him come home on the weekends.

Then opens his arms walking over to you and hawks.

And finally engulfing you.

Hawks stirs in his sleep, only to wrap one of his wings around Fumikage.

You ruffle Fumikages feathers, “How was your week?”

“Interesting to say the least.” He hums.

“We had to have team battles against the other class, plus Shinso.” His fingers twirl around a loose string from your old shirt.

“Did he getcha?”

“He could never.” He smiles.

Hawks grumbles in his sleep from the noise you and Fumikage are making.

Only then to flutter his pretty eyelashes at you, “Morin’ birdie…”

“gross” Fumikage complains.

Hawks retorts, “You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“You take my spot on the bed, my mother, my confidence- you won’t take away my house too…” Fumikage spits back.

You pop into the conversation, “When did he take your confidence?”

“Don’t ask.” They say at the same time, great synchronization.

You chuckle softly as their banter continue, yet hawks wing is still comfortably around Fumikage.

This feels perfect. You wish you could freeze time.

Hawks feels great too, he successfully evaded telling you about the league.

And Fumikage- well he’s just glad to be home.

Hawks didn’t plan on telling you on the information he had.

He wouldn’t tell you what would happen in four months.

that the liberation army would make there attack.

He should really work on that code to tell endeavor and the commission soon.

But for this moment, he’ll enjoy a simple life.

And after the attack, maybe he’ll enjoy it more freely.

And if there’s a bigger battle, maybe the commission won’t need him anymore.

and he’ll enjoy that life with you and Fumikage.

and he’d get to sleep in everyday, sometimes he’d wake up to delicious pancakes- or burnt ones if Fumikages decided to try out the skillet.

“What’re you laughing at.” Fumikage says darkly.

“What? Nothing.” Hawks replies with a big smile on his face.

Fumikage sighs, “get him dark shadow.”

You yelp befofe dark shadow comes out to flick hawks on his “dumb forehead” according to Fumikage.

Yeah, hawks could enjoy this.

He hopes you’ll forgive him in the future for not telling you everything.

And if he has to kill someone…

He hopes you’ll kiss the hands he did it with.

Because then they’ll hurt less when he looks at them.

And when he comes home at the end of today, he’ll enjoy a nice dinner with you and Fumikage.

You’ll get up and gather the plates when everyone’s finished, but Fumikage will insist he’ll do the dishes.

hawks cleans the table, you walk around to sit down on the couch to find some stupid scary movie Fumikage would like.

Then hawks would snuggle into you, and Fumikage would begrudgingly join in.

Fumikage would fall asleep, because according to you he always does.

And he’d have a conversation with you before he himself drifted off.

And before he slept, he’d hear you call his name.

“I love you Keigo.”

Yeah, that’s the simple life hawks wants.

Fumikage smacks his head, “stop day dreaming when mamas speaking to you.”

Hawks perks his head up over to you.

“What would you like for dinner tonight? Fumikage said it was your choice.”

Hawks can feel his stomach flutter.

Yea, he has something to come home to now.

He has you.

And after the battle, he hopes you’ll still have him.

TAG LIST: comment to be tagged!

@lost-in-horrorland @boopjuice @validveenus @qardasngan @arminsarlerts @star-the-rabid-dog @bunni-teeth81 @lightsgore @portgasdbruh @camejlo-35 @marsbars09 @tharae514 @yoongiwantsme @kimahrii @pink-jello-fish @l1vvvvv @miy-svz @bumblebeebutter @lacunaanonymoused @emmmeoo @sinagtala-zip

AN: I didn’t expect to write for mother hen until I answered that ask and then I got into a writing mood so… EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU ANNON!!

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 4

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: No cliffhangers this time, I promise. 😘

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Perilous situations, blood and violence, some more protective Russell, angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 4: “Mountain Man”

You were running for your life. 

Blood dripped down into your line of vision, but you swept it away from your face with a haphazard hand, along with your tears as you nearly stumbled on the path. 

A gunshot rang in your ears and hit a tree instead of your head.

Shit! You screamed and ducked, but you kept running…

After you tumbled down the hill, it was a small mercy that you didn’t break any bones when you eventually landed at the bottom. You’d stared up at the sky, winded, your back aching. Until you noticed Rick, one of Eddie’s men. He was sliding down the hill after you. 

You didn’t know what happened to your brother after he attempted to push you out of harm’s way. That thought alone gripped your heart like a vice, but you knew you couldn’t stay here on the ground either. 

You forced your body to move, whimpering at the pain and stiffness. Shakily you pushed onto your feet and slipped on dead leaves as you went. You moved your legs faster, until you were able to take off running deeper into the forest.

You gasped when your foot caught on a large rock. It sent you crashing into the ground. With your hands still bound, it made pushing yourself back up that much more difficult.

You spat out a couple of leaves. Fuck…

When Rick caught up to you, fear made you jolt into action. You wrapped your gathered hands around the rock that felled you and tossed it at him with all the strength you had. He blocked the projectile with the same hand that held his gun, like an idiot. You really couldn’t be blamed when the gun went off in his face.

He screamed, and so did you on reflex. Though his cheek and brow had been grazed by the bullet, he was lucky he still had both eyes. He blinked a bit of blood out of his left one. You scrambled back onto your feet and meant to keep running, but Rick still managed to surge forward and get a hold of your hair. 

Uttering a short scream, you grabbed his shirt and kneed him as hard as you could between the legs. You hoped you crushed his dick and balls.

“Oh, f—” He went down to the ground, sinking onto his knees as he dropped his gun. He glared up at you. “You little bitch!” 

You were panting for breath, but you didn’t wait for him to recover and grab his weapon again. 

You ran. 

You ran, even though you had no idea where you were going. You just knew that you couldn’t stay in one place. But if you couldn’t find your way around a college campus, how the hell were you supposed to navigate the damn Medicine Bow National Forest?

Along with your desperation and fear, tears kept filling your eyes whenever you thought of Charlie. 

Please, please, please…

“Goddamn, they could be anywhere,” Russell groused, as he and Colter hiked through the forest. He was, admittedly, breathing a bit harder from the trek uphill. “It’s been hours already.”

“It’s barely been an hour,” Colter reminded him. And he didn’t look winded in the least.

Bastard. Russell glanced at him, but then he focused on the horizon. The sun was finally starting to come up, which was good for them. They could see the trails more clearly.

“Remember when Dad used to make us free-climb the cliffs in Sierra?” Russell asked.

“Yeah,” Colter said. “You used to beat me every time. Wonder what happened to that guy.”

His tone was teasing. Russell shot him a look, half annoyed, and half amused.

“Yeah, well, he turned 40,” Russell replied.

Colter smiled, but both of them paused when they heard a gunshot ring out, followed by two more.

“That was close,” he said.

“Yeah,” Russell agreed, drawing his own gun. Colter did the same, and they hurried up a roaming hill that had Russell briefly peering over the side. In his mind’s eye, he had to shutter away the memory of seeing a body flung over the side in the dark and the rain. Then him looking over the edge of that cliff and recognizing his father’s twisted body.

And Colter, shouting up at him with angry, tearful, accusing eyes.

A male groan broke Russell out of his thoughts as he and his brother came up on a grim scene. Two men laid dead, and another young man with dark hair was lying prone on the ground, clutching his wounded leg. He’d been shot, though a gun also was held tightly in his own hand. He aimed it at the newcomers.

“Charlie?” Colter asked. He recognized the other man from your family photos.

Charlie blinked up at him in surprise, but not without a grim set to his jaw.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

Russell let out a subtle breath. Colter was relieved as well.

“I’m Colter. This is my brother, Russell,” he said. “Your sister asked for our help to find you.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. All of them slowly lowered their weapons. Russell gestured at the bodies lying yards away from him.

“I’m guessing one of those guys is Eddie Mendez?” he said.

Charlie nodded, gesturing at the man closest to him with his gun. He groaned at the agony in his right thigh. Colter quickly went to his side and began to wrap a tourniquet around his leg to stem the bleeding.

“Did the bullet go through?” Colter asked.

“I think so,” Charlie replied.

“Where’s your sister?” Russell asked, his impatience evident in his stance and the way he held his gun while scanning his surroundings. His frown deepened when he didn’t see you.

“Oh, fuck!” Charlie said, and not at the pain of Colter wrapping his leg. His eyes were wide with panic. “Rick’s after her. I clipped him, but he slipped by me.”

“Where?” Russell asked. Charlie pointed down the side of the hill.

“Down there. Headed north I think, but I’m not sure,” he said quickly. “Help her, please!”

Russell didn’t need any encouragement. He started down the hill first. 

After making sure Charlie was stable for now, Colter followed after his brother a few minutes later. 

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

He turned sharply to see you coming out of your hiding place—a large fallen tree. A smile started to raise his lips, but no sooner had he taken one step in your direction, when he almost got a bullet in his head for his trouble. 

“Watch out!” you yelled. Rick came out into the clearing and aimed at you next. 

“Get down!” Russell shouted. 

Without blinking, he shot Rick three times: once in the shoulder, twice in the chest. 

The man went down. He was dead before he even met the ground. 

It was then that Colter finally caught up. Russell nodded at him, but his focus was on heading for the fallen tree after he stowed his gun.

The moment he took a step over it, you popped up with a yell, ready to smack him with a tree branch. He leaned back raised up his hands in defense. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay! It’s just me, slugger,” he said with a grin. 

You let out a sharp sigh of relief. The branch fell from your loose fingers. As you caught your breath, your mouth trembled, and your eyes filled with tears at the sight of him. 

Russell softened. He reached for you.

“Come ‘ere,” he said. Your hands slipped into his, and he helped you over the trunk of the tree. After using his handy pocketknife to cut through the zip ties binding your wrists together, you landed right into his waiting embrace. There, you spilled hot tears into his bulletproof vest. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha,” he said. His voice was low and soothing. “You’re okay.”

You raised your head with a desperate question in your eyes.

“Charlie?” you asked.

“Charlie’s okay too,” Russell assured. His hand soothed over your tangled hair and down your back. He could feel you trembling as you rested against him and sobbed. He held you tight, safe, as he rocked you a little from side to side. His own relief was a weight off his chest. 

Colter stood by and watched with a secret smile. 

With his bare hands clawing into damp soil, Colter dug up the crate Charlie buried near the base of the waterfall. True to his word, it was filled with precious artifacts. 

“Just, please be careful,” you warned him again over his shoulder. “These are quite literally hundreds of years old.”

Before Colter could assure you, again, that he’d be careful, you actually set a hand on his shoulder and implored him to move back.

“Matter of fact, sorry, let me do this part,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s really trained to handle these. Plus, your hands are dirty.”

Colter raised a brow, but he obliged you. He glanced over at his brother. Russell just watched in amusement while you opened the crate. 

You wished you had gloves on for this, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped. You stopped just shy of touching them—a bow and arrow, three spears, and a couple of knives. Each were crafted with wood and bone, with designs carved and accented in faded red and blue.

“Wow,” you whispered. Your historian heart was singing right now. 

You made sure each artifact was intact and hadn’t sustained water damage, then you covered them back up with the lid to the crate. 

“Okay, now you can take it, thank you. This thing is heavy,” you said, with a pat on Colter’s shoulder. 

His lips played at a smile, but he accepted the responsibility of carrying the crate.

Russell rested a hand on the small of your back to subtly help you back up the hill. You couldn’t help walking closer with him, your arm brushing against his side. You glanced up at him with a smile. He matched you, then looked up ahead. 

Charlie was waiting for you all while leaning against a tree. He still looked like utter hell—cut up, bruised, bloody, and now shot in the leg. You went to his side and gently grabbed his arm. 

“God, Charlie. You sure you’re okay?” you asked. He curled an arm around your shoulders and flashed you a familiar grin. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m like a cockroach. Just keep coming back,” he said.

You had to agree with that, laughing through the spark of your tears. Russell came on his other side and shouldered most of your brother's weight off his bad leg. 

“Okay, here we go. One step at a time,” Russell said.

Slowly, painfully, Charlie managed to make it back to Colter’s truck with you and Russell supporting him. Colter brought up the rear with the artifacts in tow. 

And behind you all, the sun broke more fully across the dewy trees in a morning swathed with orange and gold.

After Colter drove you and Charlie to the hospital, he and Russell took off again soon after to do something with the three bodies hidden under a tarp in the bed of the pickup truck. The thought made you shudder, along with the fact that the Shaw brothers knew how to hide bodies.

But you supposed it was better than the alternative.

As it was, you, Colter, and Charlie had to lie to the hospital staff about how you both had earned your injuries—in a brutal mugging, where Colter was able to scare off the men that got the jump on you and Charlie.

"I never saw their faces," as he'd later told the police, while the nurses prepped him for surgery. "I just tried to protect my sister the best I could."

You backed him up on the story, even as the lie felt bitter on your tongue and made you nervous (especially when you thought of poor Dr. Feinman).

Despite that little break-in at the museum yesterday, you'd never been good at being a rule breaker. Fortunately, Colter's calmness when he gave his corroborating statement helped you. Like Russell, he was a solid, anchoring presence...if in a different way.

For the crate of relics, Colter advised Charlie to ship them back to the museum anonymously. It would be the easiest way to encourage the police to lose steam on looking for who took them in the first place. You and your brother begrudgingly agreed, even if you had a secret thought of sending the artifacts to the NMAI. Maybe you could convince Charlie to send them there instead, or to one of the local Native American tribes here in Wyoming.

Hours later, however, you were able to finally be with your brother when he came out of surgery. In that time, your own bruises and the cut above your brow had been tended to in the Emergency Department. Now, you sat by his bedside while he slept off the anesthesia. You stroked his scuffed hand on the bed.

He really was a mess, you thought, as a tear rolled down your cheek. But he was alive. That was what mattered now.

A quiet knock at the door had you looking up, and then smiling to see Russell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, and in surprise. “Everything…went well?”

Russell’s lips quirked. “Yeah, we’re all set.”

No one would be finding those bodies anytime soon. He had a buddy in Denver, Colorado who happened to be a cremator. It was only a couple hours over from Laramie. He and Colter had just gotten back from driving the bodies there.

Before Colter drove over to Dory's apartment next, both to check on her and to fill her in on everything, he'd dropped Russell off at your house so he could get his car. He hadn’t felt right about leaving you in the hospital by yourself, even if you did have your brother.

Not without saying goodbye, at least.

“You know, I need to ask his doctor a question about his post-op care,” you said, gesturing at Charlie. “Can you stay with him for a minute while I go find a nurse?”

“Sure,” Russell agreed. You smiled gratefully and touched his arm as you passed him.

When you were gone, it left a heavy silence in your wake. Russell looked over at Charlie’s sleeping form. Russell sighed and sunk down into the chair beside the bed. He rubbed his tired face with both hands.

Shit. Now that he thought about it, he could’ve just told Colter to bring Dory here. He pulled out his phone to call his sister, when a low groan caught his attention.

Aw geez. What kinda timing, Russell thought, as he realized Charlie was waking up. His eyes slowly slid open, brows furrowing at the bright lights above him, then at the man beside him.

“Hey, man,” Russell said. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Charlie said, with another groan as he tried to stretch his body. He found he couldn’t yet move his leg. As awareness blinked back into his eyes, he settled on Russell with resignation.

“Thank you,” he said. “What you did for me, for her…I sure as hell didn’t deserve it, but thank you for saving her.”

Russell shook his head. “No need. Just get better.”

“Yeah. The doc says in a few months, I’ll be able to learn how to walk again,” Charlie said.

Russell gave him a firmer look.

“No, I mean get better,” he said. “You know you nearly got your sister killed.”

Charlie’s gaze fell. His face tightened, but really, he couldn’t even be upset at the accusation. He knew it was true, and his guilt already threatened to consume him. He also knew he should be in jail for what he’d done, and what he’d facilitated for months. After what nearly happened in the past twenty-four hours, he wasn’t sure how you could ever forgive him.

“Look, I served too. I know what you’re going through, being back here,” Russell said. “It feels wrong and right, don’t it?”

After a beat, Charlie nodded. “What branch?”

“Special Ops. I hear you were a pilot, Captain.”

“Yeah, I was,” Charlie said, his eyes lowering. “Now…now I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re her brother,” Russell said. Both his tone and his gaze all but demanded that the other man look him in the eyes. “Not her father or her son, her brother. I know you’ve been struggling. But I think you already know what you need to do, and figure out who you’re gonna be today, tomorrow, and the next.”

Charlie took in those words, and tried not to chafe at them coming from a near stranger. He knew, deep down, that all of it was right.

You came in a moment later with two cups of coffee. You brightened with a gasp when you saw that Charlie was awake.

“Hey.” He found a smile for you. You gave Russell the coffee you’d brought for him, but you quickly set yours down on the rolling tray so you could sit beside your brother.

Russell stepped out to give you two some privacy. You thanked him again and watched him go. Then, you turned back to Charlie with a tearful smile.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“Have I said how much I love morphine?” Charlie remarked.

You rolled your eyes and took his hand in yours. “Yeah, how can I forget your thing for hard drugs.”

That hit sharper than a mere joke. His eyes fell away from yours. You sighed and bit your lip.

“I’m sorry,” you said. Charlie shook his head and covered your hand with his.

“No, I’m sorry. For everything I’ve put you through. And I don’t just mean today,” he said. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“All that matters is that you’re here, and you’re going to be fine,” you said. “I’ve already put together a list of what you’re going to need when we bring you home—”

Charlie stopped you with a squeeze of your hand.

“I’m not going home just yet,” he said.

“Well, no, not until they discharge you, but—”

Again, he gently cut you off. “You were right. I need treatment, and not just for this damn leg.”

He swept a hand through his hair and sighed.

“When they let me out of here, I’m going back to rehab,” he said. “After that, we’ll see.”

 Tears stung in your eyes…but you nodded in relief. You held both of his hands then.

“You’re not doing this alone,” you told him. “I’ll be with you, every step.”

 Charlie let out a self-deprecating chuckle. He felt he didn’t deserve that, but he smiled at you.

“I know. You’ll be nagging me in my head, even when you’re not there,” he said. You smirked and brushed his greasy hair away from his face.

“Damn straight,” you replied. “I’ve finally become Mom.”

Charlie shook his head in amusement, but he leveled you with a pointed finger.

“But for now, you need to go home and get some rest,” he said.

You reluctantly agreed with that too. After a full twenty-four hours without sleep, you realized that you were exhausted. You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you,” you said. “I’ll come back to see you tomorrow.”

“Good. Love you too,” said Charlie. His eyelids were starting to droop from the pain medication, but he forced himself to stay awake for a little while longer. He even helped you back onto your feet with a guiding hand on your back. “Wait, is someone staying with you tonight? I don’t want you to be alone.”

You grabbed up your purse. “Don’t worry. I think I’ve got that covered.”

Your brother quirked a suspicious smile at the look on your face. The one you tried to hide from him when you noticed his scrutiny.

“What, is it one of those guys who helped us?” he asked. “Is it the blonde one—Ken doll? Or the mountain man?”

Of course he knew their names, but he just wanted to mess with you. He could already see you getting flustered while you twisted the strap of your purse between your fingers and glanced at the door.

 “What? No! Just go to sleep. Take advantage of the morphine while you’ve got it,” you said. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Dory.”

Charlie leveled you with a look. “Mhmm.”

He pulled the blanket higher on his chest and watched you leave. When the door swung open, he saw Russell leaning against the wall, waiting for you. 

Charlie huffed. He should’ve known. 

Okay, mountain man.  

That was the last thought he had before he drifted off.

You left your brother’s room just about overwhelmed with a maelstrom of emotions. However, the moment you saw Russell waiting for you, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, it all distilled into one simple thing. 

He met your gaze and started to smile. 

You smiled back, and you went to him. 

You reached up to frame his face with both hands, and you searched for something in his eyes. They were tinged with surprise, but he waited on you, wondering what you were about to do. 

When you thought you found what you were looking for, you raised up on your toes and pressed your lips to his.

His hands unconsciously found your waist and held you to him. He met your lips in kind, and even deepened the connection. Your fingers slipped into his hair, lightly dragging your nails against his scalp. He hummed in pleasure. 

When your lips eventually parted from his, it was still too soon, he thought. Russell stared down at you with a question in his eyes—one he couldn’t help voicing.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

Ah… Russell’s smile evened out and faded slightly. 

So that was just a gesture of gratitude. He hoped you didn’t decide to thank Colter that way. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Russell said. “I’m glad Charlie’s all right.”

“No, I do need to. So thank you,” you said. Your hands drifted down his chest, plucking at the edge of his jacket. 

“I don’t really want to be alone today, to be honest,” you admitted. “Would you…want to…keep me company for a while? You could rest up at my place.”

Russell’s brows raised. His lips curved. 

“Well, sure. I could do that. Your couch seemed pretty comfortable,” he said. 

“You don’t have to stay on the couch,” you replied. 

And then, Russell finally read your meaning. He saw it in your eyes, staring up at him through your lashes. He saw it in your pretty blush.

Maybe that kiss was exactly what he thought it meant. His smile became more genuine.

“Well, okay,” he said eventually. He wrapped an arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home then.”

You leaned against his side and gave him a lazy salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He shook his head. His smile deepened into a grin.  

“You’re a little delirious, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Probably need some water,” you said with a giggle. “And God, I’m starving.”

Russell laid a gentle kiss to the side of your head that wasn’t bruised.

“All right, we’ll take care of that too,” he said.

“You know what I’m craving?” you asked. He looked down at you questioningly, and again he found your smile.

“Sriracha fries,” you said.

Russell busted out laughing at that. He fist-pumped the air with his free hand. 

“Hell, yeah.” 

For that, and much more, he would count today as a win. 

AN: There we go! A nice fluffy finish for you. How did you like how Charlie's arc wrapped up, along with her reunion with Russell? 💜

But just wait. We're not quite done yet...

Next Time:

He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully. 

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile. 

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped. 

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you.

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@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[strandnreyes]

love & laser tag

a little fic inspired by @guardian-angle22’s answer to the duo most likely to dominate laser tag because I couldn’t get an Owen/Carlos team up and sulky TK out of my head

“You ready to take down our friends?”

TK’s grin as he slides into the passenger seat is nearly contagious. Too bad Carlos is one statement away from making it disappear.

“Actually…” Carlos says slowly. He should’ve told TK earlier, but he has a feeling his husband isn’t going to like the news.

TK is already wary, squinting his eyes and looking at Carlos like he still trusts him with his life, just not at this very moment. “What?”

Carlos presses his lips together and then starts the car. “Your dad asked me to be on his team,” he says casually as he backs out of his space in the parking garage. He doesn’t have to take his eyes off the back up camera to know TK feels betrayed.

“What? We’re married. That’s like… automatic laser tag partners,” TK argues with a flap of his hand and Carlos chuckles.

“He asked me, TK. Was I supposed to say no?”

“Yes.”

Carlos shakes his head with a smile as he glances over at TK. In turn, TK slips his sunglasses down to his eyes. Though that could be blamed on the sun that’s now beating through the windshield. “Babe. Have you met me?”

He may have come a long way from constantly calling Owen sir or captain every time he sees him, but he was not about to shoot down Owen’s overly enthusiastic text asking if Carlos would like to be his partner for the 126 laser tag outing.

TK seems to agree because he slumps back into his seat. “Well, your nice southern boy manners are leaving me without a partner.”

“Good thing there are ten people coming so you’re guaranteed to have a partner,” Carlos retorts and TK finds his energy again, sitting up and letting his pout come out in full force.

“I wanted to be your partner,” he argues and he’s so adamant that Carlos is actually considering changing the plan. His husband is adorable and there are worse things than TK being upset that he doesn’t get to be with Carlos for something as unserious as laser tag. But then TK keeps talking. “You’re the only one here with actual training in this kind of thing.”

Scratch that. Carlos is definitely sticking with Owen. “Oh, I see. You don't want to be with me because you love me. You just want to use me.”

TK reaches over to pat his arm. “Now you’re getting it, baby.”

“I think I’m glad your dad asked me,” Carlos says as he navigates them through downtown traffic.

TK scoffs. “Jerk.” A moment later, after seemingly processing the statement, he asks, “When did he ask you?”

“He texted me.”

TK looks even more disgruntled and if Carlos weren’t driving, he’d lean over and kiss that look off his face. “Seriously? He had to secretly text you and steal you away from me?”

“I don’t know if it was a secret. And no one’s stealing anyone.”

“Whatever,” TK mutters. “You two have your fun. You’re going down.”

Carlos smiles and lays his hand on TK’s thigh. He keeps it there for the rest of the drive, but keeps any comments to himself. Truth be told, he’s fairly confident in his and Owen’s ability to take this thing home. No way he’s telling that to TK, though.

The car ride home can be described as icy at best.

TK hasn’t said a word since they all handed their vests back to the bored looking employee. He stalked to the car afterward and impatiently waited for Carlos to unlock the doors. Since then, he has ignored all of Carlos’ questions about stopping for food on the way home.

“TK,” Carlos says after the third unsuccessful attempt to engage him in conversation. He’s as far over in his seat as he can be and he’s staring out the window like he’s carsick and his wellness depends on it.

“What?” he mutters.

Carlos can’t help the small smile on his face. He’s glad TK isn’t looking at him to see it. “Are you seriously mad?”

“No.”

Carlos raises a brow. “Really? Your knees are glued to the door.” When TK doesn’t give him a follow up comment, Carlos grows even more bewildered. “The silent treatment? TK.”

TK whips around and points an accusatory finger at Carlos as he pulls back into the parking garage. “You targeted me.”

“That’s how the game works,” Carlos defends.

“No, you two… came after me right away,” TK huffs as he throws his hands up. They land back on his legs with a soft slap.

“Again, the point of the game—”

TK clenches his jaw. “Carlos, I swear to god.”

“Baby, I don’t know what you want me to say,” he says with a small laugh as he parks the car. He immediately turns to TK. “Your dad is very competitive. Do you remember the softball game?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Carlos reaches across the console. When TK lets him take his hands, Carlos knows he’s not too deep in the dog house. “I’m sorry I shot you in laser tag and took you out of the game.”

“And?”

Carlos shakes his head. “I’m not going to apologize for winning.” TK groans and tries to pull away but Carlos holds tighter. “But… I promise to be your partner in life and all future laser tag games.”

TK actually looks satisfied with that answer and Carlos loves this ridiculous man. “Thank you.”

Carlos stretches forward, relieved when TK meets him halfway to share a kiss. He deepens it until he can ensure that TK isn’t still mad about the events of the afternoon.

“How about we order Thai?” Carlos suggests as he gets out of the car. He joins TK’s side, grabbing his hand and leading him inside.

“I don’t know, are you sure you don’t want to go get dinner with your new favorite Strand?”

“TK,” Carlos groans as drops his head back.

[lordprettyflackotara]

WhoGoesThere? || eyeless jack

tw: jack and reader are depressed but thats about it ngl

Jack was tired of his life.

Truly, wondering hopelessly day after day was becoming tiring. Patching up the proxies, eating a few organs, rinse and repeat. He had no diversity, no variety to his life. The most exciting thing was when Jeff decided to bombarde him with his rant of the day. Jack despised those rants, but at least it was something different.

It was what led him to wonder aimlessly through the woods, his hands shoved in his pockets and his head held low. It had been many years since he had become this way, the demon everyone knew him to be. As time trudged on he wondered if him coming back to life was a mistake. The leafs crunched beneath his boot, his shoulders low as he stepped over a few random rocks.

In the night he heard an owl hooting, accompanied by the lone coyotes howl in the distance. Jack wouldn’t have normally thought anything of it, if it hadn’t been for the sudden race of a heartbeat. It was too loud to be a small creature, chipmunks and rabbits so easy to rile up. It sounded much larger. Much more human like. His ears twitched as he went in the direction of the sound, his curiosity distracting him from his depressive thoughts. The heartbeat only grew longer as he followed it, the owner seemingly unmoving.

It was then he heard a familiar growl of a coyote, the smell of fear flooding his nostrils. In a small clearing he spotted you, your small figure curled up in a ball against a tree as a coyote prepared itself to launch into an attack. Terror was reeking off of you, something in between your fingers and your eyes widened at the animal in front of you. Truthfully it was none of Jacks business, he never interfered with the circle of life. But your heartbeat sounded so foreign. Unlike anything he had ever heard before.

Involuntarily a low growl rumbled in the back of Jacks throat, his razor sharp teeth gritting together. The coyotes head snapped to him, the animals nocturnal vision providing him a clear picture of the demon. Jack knew he was at the top of the food chain. All the animals he had ever run into during his forest trips knew this as well. None of them dared to even be around Jack, the fear of what he may do driving them away. Once the coyote realized its prey had been stolen, it dashed off into the night without a second thought.

“Who goes there?”

Your question was bold, considering Jack knew his human like figure was concealed in the shadows. You had only heard a growl, yet you spoke to Jack like you knew what he was. “Friend or foe?” You asked. Jack furrowed his eyebrows. He was in the twenty first century, right? "Friend," He replied plainly. His deep voice caught you off guard, causing you to jump to your feet. "Show yourself," You instructed. For such a short thing you sure did have a lot of nerve ordering anyone around, nevertheless Jack. He hadn't interacted with regular humans in a long time. He was curious how this would go.

Against his better judgment, he walked into the clearing. The only source of light was the dim moonlight, which only truly revealed his human like stature and eerie mask. Jack walked in front of you, towering over you as he looked down at you. Soft skin, doe eyes, soft lips.... You looked like a fragile little thing. What were you doing out here? "How did you do it?" You asked, clearly puzzled. Jack stood motionless, afraid you'd see his ash gray hands and run. "Do what?" Jack questioned. You stared up at him curiously, your mind trying to make sense of the black tar dripping down his eye sockets on his mask. It was so lifelike. How was that possible?

"That growl... You sounded like an animal," You said slowly. Jack looked human enough to you. You supposed. Chestnut hair sat on his head, peaking out through the hood that concealed him. He was freakishly tall, unlike anyone you had ever seen before. "Odd talent I have," Jack lied, shrugging his shoulders. You were clearly puzzled, but you couldn't make sense of the situation to begin with. "Why are you out here? You could have seriously gotten hurt," Jack scolded. You rolled your eyes, holding up a joint. Jack only recognized what it was because of Ben's bad habits.

"My college isn't too much of a fan of this. They'd rather me drink myself to death," You answered. Jack tilted his head to the side curiously. He had never bothered inspecting the plant this close up before. "Do you want to smoke it with me? I kind of owe you for saving my life," You offered. If you were being honest with yourself you were lonely, that being the motivation for why you hauled yourself into the forest late at night. "I have never partaken in this before," Jack told you. You gave him a small smile. This guy couldn't be too bad right? He did just save your life. "Everyone starts somewhere. Why don't you join me?" You proposed. You sat down in your original spot, leaning your back against the oak tree.

Hesitantly Jack joined you, sitting cross legged beside you. "Sure," Jack mumbled. He watched you dig in your backpack, searching for a lighter. He noticed the Harvard symbol stitched into the back pocket. "You go to Harvard?" He asked, the question leaving his lips before he meant it to. You seemed unfazed as you continued to rummage through your mess of a backpack. "Yeah. Why?" You asked. Jack sat there dumbfounded, flashes of his previous human life flashing through his memory. He couldn't remember too much of his mortal life, but he remembered going to Harvard University. "I just used to go there, that's all," He said. You unhappily grabbed your backpack by the bottom, dumping its contents onto the ground.

"Pretty shit isn't it? It's not worth what everyone hypes it up to be," You spat harshly. Jack could sense your bitterness, but then he felt his heart throb as he yearned to be in your position. "What are you majoring in?" Jack asked, changing the subject. You grabbed the lighter, quickly igniting the joint in your hand. "Medical field. I want to be a doctor," You answered. Jack froze, his breath came to a screeching halt. He watched as you inhaled the joint, the small orange flame illuminating your features. "What did you major in?" You asked. You held out the joint to him, Jack temporarily unmoving.

He didn't think about you seeing his skin. Maybe you wouldn't notice if he acted normal. "Uh medical field, I wanted to be a surgeon," Jack told you. He reached out slowly, his hands much larger than yours. He took the joint between his fingers, bringing it up to his mask. Unsurely he lifted up the bottom half, placing the joint in between his lips. "Wanted to be? What happened? If its seeing guts don't worry, lots of kids dropped out once we had to study a surgery live," You say, your eyes flickering to his hands. You noted his odd skin color, the pigment unfazing you. "Life, I guess," He mumbled. He inhaled sharply, coughing as the smoke rounded his lungs. The smoke dispersed into the night air, his hand flying to his mask to cover himself.

"Hey don't do that, you won't be able to breathe as well," You intervened. You grabbed his large hand, your small fingers wrapping around his. Your skin was so warm to the touch, Jack could almost hear your pulse through your touch. "The color of my skin doesn't bother you?" Jack asked in between coughs. His chest began to hurt, his other hand crutching his hoodie. You patted his back, shaking your head. "Argyria, right? Nothing to be ashamed about. Doesn't matter to me," You answered. Jack managed to clear his throat, pulling hand away from yours. He handed the joint back to you, your fingertips brushing against his skin as you took it from him.

Of course you thought he had a skin condition. A logical person couldn't even begin to comprehend what Jack truly was. He noticed the way the weed had affected his senses, the demon leaning back against the tree beside you. "Nice to meet you by the way, i'm y/n," You said. Jack refrained from smiling, afraid you'd see his rows of razor sharp teeth. "I'm Jack, but usually everyone calls me EJ," He answered. He realized you may ask what EJ stood for, heat flushing his cheeks. Instead you handed the joint back to him. "I like the name Jack, suits you," You told him. Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing, your comment more flattering to him than you would ever know.

This time Jack was more confident, bringing the joint to his lips. He inhaled deeply. relaxing as the smoke circulated around his lungs. "There you go, you're getting the hang of it," You say proudly. Playfully you elbowed his arm, causing Jack to jump slightly from the unpredicted contact. Your eyes had fluttered closed, the weed extracting every ounce of tiredness you had. Jack allowed himself to smile. "Do you come here often?" Jack asked. You giggled, your smile as bright as a thousand suns. "Are you hitting on me?" You asked through your fit of giggles. Heat dashed across Jack's cheeks as he exhaled, your comment making him cough. "What? No! I was just starting conversation," Jack rambled. You could practically feel his embarrassment.

"Relax Jack i'm fucking with you," You chuckled. You took the joint from his fingers, placing it back in between your lips. Jack felt relief. He thought maybe he had been depraved of social interaction for too long to engage in a standard conversation. He knew what you both were doing now was considered small talk, but it meant the absolute world to him you were even chatting with him. "To answer your question I do. Mostly when my shitty roommate invites her clan of frat boys over," You say, a hint of annoyance lacing your tone. Jack raised his eyebrows, watching your cloud of smoke evaporate into the night. It was brushed away by a small breeze in an instant. "I assume they aren't your cup of tea?" Jack proposed. You nodded, your eyes still shut. You handed the joint back to Jack, the effects of the miracle plant putting him at ease.

He made a mental note to accept Ben's invitation to smoking more often.

"One of them hit on me my first year. He never got over the rejection I think. There's rumors still floating around two years later I had a threesome with him and another dipshit," You explained. Jack inhaled, his ears twitching at the sound of the paper crinkling from the flame. "To answer your question, no, I absolutely did not have a threesome. My predicament is actually far worse," You mumbled the last part. You had peaked Jack's curiosity, but he chose to keep his questions to himself. "What do they do while you're gone?" Jack asked, trying to keep the conversation going. He focused on the milky smoke, exhaling it through his nostrils. He allowed himself to grin, your eyes still closed.

"They probably gangbang her for all I know," You grumbled. Jack felt unusually heavy, like he could stay in that spot with you forever. Tucked away from the world and curled up under an oak tree. As he took another hit he felt something unusual. Something he couldn't recall he had felt before. Your head had fallen onto his shoulder, your body curled up into a ball as you tucked your knees into your chest. "Do you want the rest of this?" Jack asked, holding the joint out to you. He could hear your breathing becoming heavier, your consciousness drifting away. "Have it. Just let me stay like this for one more moment," You say, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder.

Jack swallowed, his nerves getting the best of him. He could hear your chest rise and fall. Then your heartbeat slowed. You had fallen asleep. On his shoulder. Willingly. Shakily Jack returned the joint to his lips, realizing he was going to need all of the comfort he could get. How could he allow this? What if he woke up hungry? He looked over at you, tossing the ashes of the joint aside and readjusting his mask. On the other hand, you looked so peaceful. How could Jack disrupt that? The night wind blew past of the two of you, a few stray strands of your hair brushing against your face. He watched your nose crinkle as they tickled your skin.

Unsurely he brought his hand to your face, tucking the strands of your hair behind your ear. As your face fell into a perfect state of content, Jack came to the executive decision he would stay right here to protect you until morning came. It wasn't long before the weed evoked his own tiredness, slumber taking over him as it did you.

[sensationalstardust7]

Oh! How about maybe a new relationship with Sirius; it’s still early days and you’re meeting up for a date and reader gifts him flowers. He’s never received flowers before so it catches him off guard (maybe reader starts to panic because they think they’ve done something wrong) but then he’s even more love sick than before!

sirius black x reader

tw: just fluff, and probably bad writing

533 words

(this is my first ever posted fic, and my first fic i’ve written in a long while so it’s probably not the best)

“Hmm, can i get the red roses please?” you asked the nice man behind the counter. But would roses be too cliché? No, you were just being silly, Sirius would love them, you thought to yourself.

You payed the man and left the shop quickly with your newly acquired roses, avoiding the mass of people in the street. Today’s not the day to get trampled to death by angry civilians (although if you did, that would probably make such a wild excuse for being late to the date, that Sirius would most definitely crack up laughing).

Not too far from the flower shop was the café you and your new boyfriend were supposed to be meeting up at in 5 minutes. It was a nice place, and you’d been there before. But now you were nervous about going in, because you’d never been there on a date before.

You’d decided you wanted to surprise Sirius with flowers on your first date together, though now you worried maybe it was too much. But you’d already paid for them, so you guessed you should just risk it and follow through on your original plan to give them to Sirius.

You walked into the quaint café, looking around slowly, scanning for a familiar dark haired fellow. You spotted a dashing Sirius sprawling in a booth, dressed in his usual leather jacket and band tee, but, had he combed his hair? He was gazing at a menu, tapping his finger on his chin in thought.

He looks up when you timidly approached the booth, and he stood to greet you warmly. He enveloped you in a comforting hug, before taking a step back, holding you at arms length. You tentatively hold out the fragrant red roses in front of you, and you smiled nervously.

His eyes widen slightly, flicking up and focusing on you. He looked taken aback, startled even. He didn’t say anything, just stared incredulously at you.

“Sirius? What’s wrong?” You blurted, taking a tense step backwards. You had done something wrong, hadn’t you? You had messed up already even though it was only your first date.

Sirius stepped forward and lowered his head to look at your face, gently placing his hands on the sides of your face. “Sweetheart, nothings wrong” Sirius assured you, stroking your face with his thumbs. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. Are those flowers… for me?” he asked quietly.

“That’s why i was giving them to you, yeah” You mumbled. A grin splits Sirius’s face in two. He looked like the Cheshire Cat out of Alice in Wonderland his smile was that big.

You held out the flowers to him once again, and he grasped them enthusiastically. He looked almost giddy, like a child who has just been given candy.

He placed the flowers on the table then picked you up, spinning you around. You were both laughing when he put you down, still grinning.

“What did I do to deserve you, y/n” Sirius whispers. His face shining like a lovesick fool.

But that was just it, wasn’t it? You were both head-over-heels in love with each other.

“I should be asking you the same question”

[estellan0vella]

Office Cry Fest Older Brother Sukuna AU HFBU

The parlour is quiet this evening, the buzz of tattoo machines having died down as the last clients left an hour ago. Sukuna’s office, however, is bustling with activity. You, Yuji, Megumi, and Gojo are all huddled on the plush couch, eyes glued to the TV screen. Marley & Me plays, a seemingly innocent choice for movie night. None of you had seen it before, and it promised the warm, fuzzy feeling of a family-friendly film.

Sukuna’s office is now a haven for an emotional rollercoaster. You’re curled up in Sukuna's oversized hoodie, clutching a pillow to your abdomen, dealing with the dual discomforts of cramps and the poignant narrative unfolding on screen. Yuji is nestled on your left, his tiny fists gripping your sleeve, while Megumi is on your right, half-hiding his face in the crook of your arm. Gojo is sprawled out on the floor, back against the couch, sniffling loudly.

As the movie reaches its heart-wrenching climax, you feel the tears streaming down your face. Yuji is openly sobbing, and even Megumi's brave façade crumbles as he clings to you tighter. Gojo, despite his usual nonchalance, is wiping at his eyes furiously, muttering under his breath.

“Who the fuck makes a doggy snuff film?” Gojo exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation. His voice cracks slightly, betraying his distress.

“What sick fuck made this film?” you shout, echoing Gojo’s sentiment as you bury your face in the pillow. The emotional weight of the movie, combined with your period-induced sensitivity, is too much to bear.

Suddenly, the office door swings open, and Sukuna strides in, followed closely by Geto and Toji. They pause at the sight before them: two adults, two children, all in various states of emotional disarray.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Sukuna demands, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene. His usually stern demeanor softens slightly when he sees the tears streaking down Yuji’s and Megumi’s faces.

You point at the TV, where the credits are now rolling. “That movie... Marley & Me... it’s awful,” you manage to choke out between sobs.

Geto raises an eyebrow, glancing at the screen. “Isn’t that supposed to be a feel-good family movie?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not,” Gojo retorts, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s a fucking trap.”

Yuji sniffles, looking up at Sukuna with wide, teary eyes. “Suku, the dog... the dog dies.”

Sukuna’s expression shifts from confusion to understanding. He crouches down to Yuji’s level, gently wiping away his tears. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s just a movie.”

“No more dog movies!” Megumi declares, his small hands clenched into fists. “Ever!”

You nod fervently, feeling a wave of determination wash over you. “Agreed. We’re making a pact. Never again.”

“Never again,” Gojo echoes, raising his hand as if taking an oath. “That was emotional terrorism.”

With a newfound sense of purpose, you eject the DVD from the player and march over to the window. “Good fucking riddance,” you say, launching the disc out into the night. It sails through the air, disappearing into the darkness. 

As you turn back, Megumi reaches for another DVD on the shelf. "How about this one?" he asks innocently, holding up "Me Before You."

Your eyes widen, and you snatch the DVD from his hands. “Not a fucking chance!” you declare, and with a swift motion, you throw it out the window as well.

Gojo lets out a loud laugh, wiping away the remnants of his tears. “If we watched that one, I would have killed myself,” he jokes, though his voice still wavers with leftover emotion.

“I agree,” you say, nodding solemnly. “That would’ve been the end of us.”

Geto wraps an arm around Gojo, pulling him close. “You guys are a mess,” he says softly, though there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Come on, babe, let’s get you some tea,” Sukuna murmurs, pulling you into his arms. “And maybe something less devastating to watch.”

Yuji tugs on Sukuna’s sleeve. “Suku, can we watch something happy? Like Toy Story?”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Sukuna replies, ruffling Yuji’s hair. “Anything but another sad dog movie.”

Toji picks up Megumi, who is still sniffling. “Let’s go find something fun to watch, okay, kiddo?”

Megumi nods, resting his head on Toji’s shoulder. “Okay, Daddy. No more sad movies.”

You smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as Sukuna leads you to the kitchen. “Thanks, Kuna,” you whisper, leaning into him.

“Anything for you, baby,” he murmurs back, kissing the top of your head. “Now, let’s find something that won’t make us all cry our eyes out.”

taglist - @sad-darksoul @thejujvtsupost @kyo-kyo1 @kalulakunundrum @ryomku

[strawberrystepmom]

sanemi x f!reader. suggestive fluff, feelings exploration, established relationship (sort of?) | divider thanks to @cafekitsune, wc 1k

“Hold still.”

The statement isn’t an outright command but Sanemi can tell he is not being asked, he is being told to keep from shifting beneath your touch. You drag a bar of clean scented soap over the back of his neck, reaching over his shoulder to rub the bar across his chest. He captures your hand and takes it from you, finishing the job down the front of his body independently.

“Here.”

He holds the bar over his shoulder when finished and you grab it, placing it on the lip of the tub. The washcloth wrapped around your hand is next to get lathered up. You rub circles between his shoulder blades with the same soft cloth you’ve used on your own skin. The soap leaves translucent bubbles across his skin, popping light as air when you blow on them gently. The temperature difference between the steam rising from the bathwater and your breath causes goosebumps to erupt across his scarred flesh.

“Hey, quit that.” He tilts his head backwards, hair flopping, wisteria eyes locked on your little smile. You know exactly what you’re doing. “You’re supposed to be scrubbin’ not playin’.” Giggling, you nod and dip the cloth back into the water. You dare lean forward until your lips nearly brush against his exposed forehead, breathlessly wondering when he’ll get skittish.

It may not happen tonight considering he was the one brave enough to join you to begin with yet you wait for one breath…two breaths…and his distance never comes. It’s a relief and you proceed with what your heart is crying out for you to do; to simply lavish him with the love you feel he deserves.

“Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

Your lips brush against him with every word you speak, breath fanning against his sweat dotted forehead. This is far from the first time he has been this close to you or seen you nude, breasts swaying with every move you make, it’s merely the first time he's come to the realization that he wants to end his evenings like this every single day - terrifying for a man who resigned as a child to spend his life alone.

Has he ever been handled so tenderly? Perhaps long ago, in days he doesn’t remember outside of tattered pieces he can’t make sense of during nightmares. A time when he was loved and adored; a time he let go of before he could develop any attachment to it. He fears it’s too late for him to do the same with you.

“I need to wash your hair too,” you remind him with raised brows, dropping the cloth to cup your hands and scoop water to dump over his shoulders.

You kiss his forehead and he grumbles in response though you spend little more than a moment doing it. Shifting, you quickly lean backward to let him tilt his head forward, the muscles in his neck taut in this position. Admiring them and humming to yourself, you lift your cupped hands to dump water down the back of his neck and head, droplets sluicing down his back and returning from where they once came. You drag your fingers through his thick strands, gently massaging his scalp and he lets out an involuntary satisfied moan, shoulders hunching forward.

Giggling, you lean forward and rest your chin on his shoulder, hands still working. “Feel good?” Your lips touch his neck, just beneath his ear, eliciting a shiver in response. He allows you a few more moments of indulgence, scrubbing his scalp and gently yanking on the strands before abruptly sitting up and turning to face you, water sloshing gently near the edges of the tub as he does so.

Eyes following his every move, you sit back to accommodate him and rest between his legs that are stretched on either side of you, your knees pulled to your chest. You scoot forward and situate yourself fully between his legs, your thighs and calves thrown on either side of his hips, straddling him. He sighs, shaking his head, one hand falling to the small of your back to keep you upright and steady.

Despite himself, he’s grateful for your attentiveness and eagerness to care for him. Sanemi will always be slightly more subtle in the way he shows his affection but he can tell you feel it judging solely by the way you glance up at him, eyes practically twinkling with adoration.

What did he do to deserve this and how can he get you to stop?

He runs a hand through his slightly sudsy hair. “Why are you doing all this for me? I can scrub my own back and wash my own hair.” Shrugging, you half smile and swipe the cloth over his chest, tracing the pattern of the scars that cross it in either direction. “Because I love you and know that you deserve it.”

You love him. You’ve told him the same thing though in far more compromising positions, babbling it senselessly while he has been between your legs with his lips and tongue, learning how to love a woman without words. You’ve shown him you mean it beyond just this evening spent in cooling water. He opens his mouth to respond but shuts it just as quickly. You continue, scrubbing up his neck and down his biceps, spending extra time on his underarms and the crook of his elbow.

“Are you gonna let me finish washing your hair or did you want to do it yourself?” You interrupt the silence, knowing he’s thinking rather than giving you the cold shoulder. This is new to him and comfort is paramount in dealing with matters of the heart, something you’ve learned during your time spent with him.

Thinking for a beat longer, he finally nods. “Yeah, you can finish.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as he uses his hand on the small of your back to tilt you forward, your chest pressed against his, giving you the exact angle and position needed to complete your task. Sanemi presses a kiss against your clavicle, thumb rubbing small circles against your skin. His eyes flutter shut while you work.

He could do this forever.