#this is stupid. i should stop digging through old shit.

[heich0e]

yuuji's bedtime is 7:30 each night.

there are occasional exceptions like holidays or special events, but as a general rule jin is diligent about making sure his six-year-old is tucked up snug in his little bed by 7:30 sharp so he can get all the sleep he needs to learn and grow and thrive.

sukuna thinks that's all a load of shit.

as such, yuuji's strict bedtime routine is rarely followed when uncle sukuna is tasked with watching him for the night. partially because he thinks it's stupid, and the kid should be allowed to stay up as late as he wants, and partially to spite his older brother for asking him to babysit in the first place.

yuuji hops from one dingy tile to the next on one leg while sukuna surveys the convenience store shelves before his eyes. it's 8:15 now, a full 45 minutes past yuuji's bedtime, and the kid shows no sign of dropping anytime soon—futher proof, sukuna thinks smugly, that all that stuff his brother's always spouting about "childhood development" and "gentle parenting" is a bunch of garbage. he reaches out and plucks a bag of chips off the shelf in front of him, tossing it into the basket dangling from his hand.

"jichan!" yuuji finally lets both his little light-up sneakers hit the floor, looking up at his uncle with sparkling, expectant eyes. sukuna quirks a brow in his direction, waiting for him to continue. "can i show you my dance when we get home?"

"depends," sukuna says, turning and wandering a little further down the aisle. "'s it any good?"

"fushiguro-kun said it was really, really good when i showed him at school!"

sukuna clicks his tongue. "that so?"

"uh-huh!" yuuji replies cheerfully, watching as his uncle tosses a packet of candy into the shopping basket along with the rest of the junk food they'd set out on their after-hours excursion to procure. sukuna has every intention of letting the kid eat as much of it as he wants when they get back to jin's house, which he's sure would appall his older brother.

"if it sucks i'm gonna tell you," sukuna remarks pointedly, grabbing a second pack of the same gummy candy after deciding one was insufficient.

"it doesn't suck!" yuuji insists, trailing along after his uncle as they continue making their way through the store. the young man waves his hand dismissively as he fights back a smirk at the indignation in the brat's voice.

after grabbing a few more items—some chocolate candies, a pint of ice cream, and pack of cigarettes (which even sukuna isn't enough of a degenerate to share with the kid)—the two set off on the short walk back to jin's apartment with their spoils. yuuji is hopping on one foot again, trying to avoid the cracks in the pavement as they make their way home.

sukuna wishes the kid didn't have to stick so close, because he could really go for one of those cigarettes right now, but he resists the urge to fish one out from the pack and resolves to sneak out onto the balcony and smoke one when they get home and he can distract yuuji with the TV long enough to sneak away. in the pocket of his jacket, his cell phone vibrates, signifying a new text, and he digs it out to check the notification.

[new message - 8:22PM] how's babysitting duty?

sukuna smirks a little when he sees your name and message on the small screen in his palm. his eyes briefly flicker up to yuuji, who's wandered ahead a little bit, and then back to the device as he types out his reply.

'he's still alive.'

[new message - 8:23PM] a glowing endorsement

"ojiiiiiichan!"

sukuna glances up from the screen of his phone to see yuuji staring at him.

"what?" he asks his nephew flatly.

the noisy tyke cocks his head to the side. "why'd ya stop walking?"

sukuna blinks, he hadn't noticed he'd stopped while he was texting you.

"and why're you smiling like that?" the kid adds after a moment.

sukuna scowls, tightening his grip on the plastic convenience store bag in his hand in a way that makes it rustle. "'m not smiling like anything."

"you were," yuuji insists as the two start walking in the direction of home again, but this time he falls into step with his uncle instead of racing ahead. sukuna feels his curious eyes on his face as they near jin's apartment.

"stop staring at me," he snaps. "it's rude."

"papa says you're the rudest person he knows," yuuji remarks innocently, blissfully unaware of how scathing the comment really is.

"yeah, well your father's a cun—" he catches himself before he says what he wants to say, quickly (though awkwardly) correcting himself, "—niving guy."

"what's conniving?" yuuji asks.

"it means annoying," sukuna answers with a grunt. it's not true, but that doesn't matter to him.

"jichan, were you talking to a girl on your phone back there?"

sukuna almost stumbles in his surprise, his head whipping to the side to stare at his nephew in shock. "what the hell makes you say that?"

"hell is a bad word!" yuuji points up at his uncle admonishingly.

"i'm a grown up, i'm allowed to say whatever i want," sukuna says with a roll of his eyes. "now back to the question, brat."

"papa says that you're always talking to the girls in your phone when we're eating dinner at the table. it's part of what makes you rude."

sukuna sneers. his brother's always been a narc.

"conniving," sukuna mutters under his breath.

the apartment building is in sight now, and he's grateful because that craving for a cigarette has resurfaced with renewed vigour.

"papa also says that girls don't like ojichan because ojichan makes them cry."

"your papa doesn't know what he's talking about," sukuna grunts, irritated.

"did you make the girl you were talking to back there cry?" yuuji prods again for information.

"no, i didn't," the elder of the duo counters indignantly—weirdly indignantly, if he's being honest.

"good," yuuji says with a firm nod. he starts hopping on one foot again as the two of them approach the main entrance to the building. the lights on his sneakers dance across the pavement in the dark. "if you made her cry that would make me sad for her."

sukuna thinks about you then. you're probably at home now, waiting for him to reply to that last message he didn't get the chance to respond to. you're probably wearing those slippers you like so much, the ones he teases you about every time he comes over. probably in pyjamas already, since you tend to be early to bed. he wonders if you'll still be awake by the time jin gets home to relieve him from his childminding duties. wonders if you'll answer the phone when he calls. wonders if you'll let him come over if he asks.

"yeah," sukuna says quietly, almost unconsciously, as he pulls open the apartment door and allows his nephew to hop across the threshold ahead of him. "that'd make me sad too."

[ponderingmoonlight]

Telling Sukuna you're pregnant after not seeing him for 500 years

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: For more than 1.500 years, you found yourself in a love and hate relationship with none other than Ryomen Sukuna. But when he began to ignore you for more than 500 years, you decide to bind him to you forever - with the help of a pregnancy that shouldn't be possible...

Warnings: (y/n) is a real femme fatale aka bad bitch in this, mentions of smut, language language language, mentions of abuse towards Sukuna, mentions of pregnancy

Click here for Part ll

Your heels click against the floor casually as you swing your hips from side to side, a satisfied grin plastered on your face.

Finally. The sensation of his presence almost swallowed you whole just like it always did. Oh, how long you’ve waited for this damn moment, how you longed for him to finally appear again. Good for you that that brat decided to swallow your former lover back then.

Well, lover might be the wrong word to describe your relationship. Do you like Ryomen Sukuna? No, absolutely not. Just the thought of being around him sends your eyes into your skull immediately. Do you hate him?

“Can you shut up already? I’m…ah!”

“Stop talking, asshole”, you moaned against his parted lips, the sensation of him mercilessly thrusting into you almost swallowing you whole.

“You’re the worst woman I’ve ever met”, he hissed through gritted teeth, picking up his pace just the way you like it.

“I hate you”, you cried on top of your lungs while digging your nails into his shoulders to pull him even closer, to feel him even better.

You snort. Well, let’s just stay your relationship is rather complicated. But good for you, you took matters into your own hands.

“What do you think you’re doing there, huh?”, you casually question, bored eyes resting on that curse that kneels in front of the pink-haired boy.

“And who are you?”

Oh, it seems like this thing is a brave one. By the look of it and how he carries himself, he might be a special grade curse, he could be quite strong. But definitely not strong enough to even talk to you. You shake your head in amusement, fingers playing with a strand of hair.

“None of your business. I’m here to talk to Sukuna about something important, so get out the way before I drown you.”

“Get in line then. I am the one who will bring him back to life. He needs to assist us.”

“You must feel so brave and strong, huh? But still, you’re too dumb to realize who’s standing in front of you. Let me say it one last time, just because I’m in a good mood today: Get.out.my.way.”

You caress your belly mindlessly. Oh, you really do have some excited news. His face will be priceless when he hears your words. It’s his fault, after all. Who does he think he is to silently disappear for more than 500 years, leaving you alone without even saying goodbye? Looks like Sukuna is sick of you. Well, you’ll definitely bind him to you for the rest of your damned life. Maybe you should film it. What are those things called? Smartphones? Damn, you’re definitely too old for that dumb shit of those stupid humans.

“I’d get out of her way if I was you, curse. Or even better, go back where you came from and spare me with your bullshit, (y/n).”

That dark and unpromising voice, that annoyed undertone. Your eyes widen in nothing but excitement as well as your grin, unnecessary heart almost beating out of your chest. Finally, after all those years.

He’s back.

Ryomen Sukuna is finally back.

“I’m not going anywhere. There’s something very important we have to talk about”, you reply.

Hungrily, you take in his sight. He really does look different in that boy’s body. No wonder, after all he’s still a minor. You scrunch your nose, just the thought of getting close to this shell of a man…

Gross.

“Why are you looking at me like that, huh? Don’t you have somewhere to be, (y/n)?”

He can’t deny it, how desperately he has to supress a sly grin by just one look at you. How do you manage to always look this hot, to make his mind wander? Sukuna hates you with every fiber of his being, how you seem to always be two steps ahead of him. Him, the king of curses. Him, the one who should be in control. Him, who is technically stronger, older and more experienced than you. But oh, you do it so well while wearing that black dress and your pair of heels, the mischievous look on your face simply taking his breath away.

“Don’t worry about me pretty boy, I’m exactly where I should be”, you purr.

Elegantly, you bend down towards him, almost revealing your panties in the process. Your hand glides over his firm chest and wraps around his neck, putting pressure on his windpipe ever so gently.

“Would y’all mind to just leave? We need a little more privacy.”

Nobody dares to move, your sheer presence stopping both girls and Jogo in their tracks. You might not be as powerful as Sukuna, but the way you act alone is enough to tell them you are no one to be messed with.

And the stinging fact that the king of curses literally allows you to choke him.

“W-we…We need to talk to Sukuna”, a female voice behind you speaks out.

Urgh, is a simple no not enough? You roll your eyes in sheer annoyance, making Sukuna almost shiver in excitement of what comes next.

“Listen, I tried to be nice, but you brats are testing me. I don’t have time for stupid shit like that, okay?”

One snap. One little innocent movement of your finger is enough to slice both of their heads off in the split of a second, sparing the curse standing behind you only by inches.

“If you don’t want to die right here and now, leave before I’m completely losing it, curse.”

“What’s wrong, (y/n)? Did something upset you?”

Your attention goes back to the force of a man in front of you, who lifts himself off the ground effortlessly.

“Well, I was pretty mad when I found out that you found a vessel and didn’t care enough to let me know. After all, I haven’t seen you in…how many years? 500, maybe?”

“Maybe you should leave, then. Because I didn’t miss you a single bit”, Sukuna suggests innocently.

Your bodies are so close to each other that he can’t ignore the heat radiating from your frame anymore. Why do you have to look so enticing in your short black dress? And what is that look on your face?

“Ouch, I’m here because I have something very important to tell you-“

“Get in line then, I don’t have time for your shit right now-“

Your nerves tingle in excitement when you pin him against the destroyed wall behind him.

This. This is the moment you worked you hard for, the moment you’ve been waiting for since he disappeared into darkness.

“I’m pregnant, Sukuna.”

The smile on his face disappears in an instant, you watch in sheer amusement as he turns pale as snow. This is too good to be true, absolutely priceless.

“So you fucked with somebody else, huh?”

“Both you and I know that it’s not possible for a simple human or curse to impregnate a woman like me.”

Oh, he knows damn well that you’re right. Frantically, he pushes his large hand against your stomach, searching for a sign of life. You have to be joking. He was gone for ages. And even though he wasn’t able to not get a taste of you, to not sink into your inviting flesh from time to time, there simply is no possibility, it can’t be true…

His soul leaves his body, breath getting stuck in his throat.

There it is, a tiny movement, a minor heartbeat.

You are indeed pregnant.

“There is no way”, he breathes out.

“Ask be how I did it.”

Your face is only inches away from his, maniac grin laughing down at him. You’ve had this plan in your mind for a long time. After he slipped through your fingers and didn’t return for literal years, you needed a plan. A plan to force him to stay by your side, a plan to bind him to you forever.

Ryomen Sukuna will always be yours. And you made sure of that.

“To be honest, it wasn’t hard to get what I needed for it. You aren’t especially careful when it comes to-“

“It shouldn’t even be possible”, he interrupts you breathlessly.

“You…You little bitch.”

You laugh at him hysterically as he throws you against the wall and chokes you until you see stars.

“Congrats, dear Sukuna. I’m sure you’ll be the best dad ever”, you choke out while sticking out your tongue.  

“And you’ll stay with me until the end of time.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @brycequinlansbrightpinkthong

[ayyy-pee]

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Summary: Every choice Satoru makes just seems to be digging himself into a deeper hole. But when it comes to you, he can’t seem to help himself.

Story Warning: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Toxic Behavior, Cheating, Protected Sex (wrap it up kids), Jealousy, Obsessive Behavior, Exes to Lovers (for a lil bit), Gojo is sprung on reader real bad, Dumb Stupid Idiot Satoru, Downbad Satoru

Gojo art by: Ilameys (used with permission)

Available to read on Ao3!

AN: Gojo has been eating my brain so I had to get something out. I've been obsessively listening to LIMBO by keshi and had it on repeat writing this (listen to it if you haven't!) Anyway, enjoy!

“Satoruuuuu,” an aggravating, whiny voice slurs. “Can you get me another drink pleaseeeee?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

Satoru rises from his seat on the couch, running his fingers through his silky white hair. He leaves his girlfriend to chat with her friends as he makes his way to the kitchen for yet another drink. Really, he should cut her off and take her home. She’s insufferable when she gets a drop of liquor in her, not that she’s any less annoying when she’s sober. All the whining, all the clinginess, all the slurring of his name as she wraps herself all around him. It used to be cute when they first started dating a year ago. Now it’s just suffocating. But Satoru sucks it up, though he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because when she drinks, he doesn’t have to deal with actually trying to have a conversation with her. She’s a bit more tolerable after a few drinks. Annoying still, but less so.

He maneuvers through the crowd of the house party he’s currently attending. It’s packed, the scent of alcohol heavy in the air. Leave it to Suguru to go all out when he’s back in town. The guy invited practically everyone from their time in high school. Since arriving, Satoru’s already run into Mei Mei, Ino, Utahime (unfortunately) and surprisingly Nanami. There’s even students from the Ainu Technical School here. He had no idea Suguru even knew them. 

Regardless, Satoru is happy to see everyone. He stops every so often to chat with old classmates as he wanders towards the kitchen. Everyone seems to be doing well for themselves since graduating high school, which Satoru is glad for. No matter how life went, he always wished everyone well.

And life was good for Satoru, too. At 26 years old, he certainly couldn’t complain about much. He’d graduated from high school, gone to college, had a hell of a great time during his undergrad career, got himself a well paying cushy sales job. And he had a girlfriend that he…had been with for awhile. Life couldn’t be better for him.

So why did it always feel like something was missing?

Satoru enters the enormous kitchen and makes a beeline to the assortment of drinks lined along the built-in bar. Of course Suguru has a built-in bar in his kitchen with an array of pre-made cocktails to choose from. Always such a great host when he’s not traveling to clean up celebrity messes for his PR firm.

“Satoru!” A man’s voice sings behind him as an arm slings across his shoulders. 

“Haibara,” Satoru greets him. “Back for another drink?”

Satoru grabs one of the plastic party cups from the counter and pours one of the cocktails into it; something fruity and syrupy. He might’ve given it a try if the overwhelming smell of tequila didn’t burn his nostrils. He thinks of his girlfriend, knowing she will definitely feel like shit by the end of the night.

“Hm?” Haibara shakes his head, his raven hair whipping with the movement. “No way. One is enough for me. I have early practice tomorrow. Coach says my swing needs work, so not willing to fuck that up.” Ah right. Satoru had totally forgotten that Haibara played tennis professionally now. He nods, listening to his friend fill him in on what his plans for tomorrow are. Haibara’s wide brown eyes follow Satoru’s movements as he fills his cup. “You, though? I never see you drink at these things?”

Satoru shakes his head. “Not for me. For my girlfriend.”

Haibara’s signature, open-mouthed grin spreads wide across his face. “Oh! You’re still dating her? Wow. Good for you, man.”

Something about the surprise in Haibara’s tone takes Satoru aback, brows knitting at this. “Why’d you say it like that?”

Haibara crosses his arms, his smile melting away with a sigh. “I mean…” Haibara sighs your name quietly. “The two of you were together for a long time before you broke up after high school. We all thought you’d still be together, but if you could end that relationship, I’m just a little surprised you’re still with this one. That’s all. But if you’re happy...”

Just hearing your name on Haibara’s tongue has Satoru’s stomach twisting in knots. He hasn’t seen or spoken to you in years, something he’s been wanting to change for a long time but too cowardly to do so. 

Satoru nods, giving Haibara a weak smile. He can admit that his girlfriend was…not the least bit interesting, annoying and did little for him. But he enjoyed her company sometimes.

“Just don’t be surprised if one of us leaves with Y/N tonight, though,” Haibara jokes, throwing his head back with an obnoxious chuckle. 

What?

Satoru feels his heart leap into his throat as his crystalline eyes dart rapidly over every occupant in the kitchen, only seeing the familiar faces of his old classmates and a few strangers. There’s no sign of you. Maybe Haibara was just fucking with him. 

Satoru laughs to save face, albeit awkwardly. “Funny,” he mutters, staring down into the drink meant for his current girlfriend, though now his thoughts are only occupied with you.

“Hey man, I need to get back to my girl, so I’ll catch you later,” Satoru tells his old friend.

“Yeah, later! Hey!” Haibara calls out to him and Satoru turns briefly. “Let’s get together to play some time!”

“Yeah, sure. Text me!” Satoru calls back, waving as he exits the kitchen. Unlikely, but he appreciates the effort.

Satoru shoulders through the crowd again, carefully holding onto the red cup in hand so it doesn't spill. He takes his time getting back, a new goal in mind: find you. Are you actually here? Or was Haibara just trying to mess with him? His heart pounds hard in his chest as he moves, eyes scanning every face he sees.

It’s been seven long years since Satoru last spoke to you - his first real crush, his first real girlfriend, his first time. His first everything. He wonders if you’ve thought about him at all in this time. He’d be surprised if you did. Things didn’t exactly end well between you two.

......

Seven Years Ago

You and Satoru dated all through high school. Satoru, a star athlete, played many sports and you supported him through them all, cheering for him at every game and helping him with his practice. You two were inseparable. If you weren’t at Satoru’s place, he was at yours. The love was deep between you two and a promise was made that you’d always be together.

But life didn’t always happen the way you wanted. The joy and excitement of being accepted into your dream schools did not last long when you realized you’d be going to school thousands of miles away and oceans apart. It was the first time a true test of your relationship was presented. Satoru was staying in Japan for college while you were headed overseas. Could your relationship survive the distance?

The first few months apart weren’t so bad. Satoru was making friends, excelling at school and becoming quite popular. You were also busy with your new life and hobbies. You made time for each other when you could. But it wasn’t enough. The loneliness Satoru felt without you was all consuming and it was only a matter of time before he found himself sending fewer texts, calling less, absorbed in the newness of college life.

Satoru loved you so much, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew the likelihood of a long distance relationship surviving was slim regardless of who it was. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but the trying part was becoming more burdensome than he wanted.

And it wasn’t as though you had done anything wrong. This feeling Satoru was experiencing was all on him. You made the effort to keep in touch, to call when you could. And you still wanted it to work. But if Satoru were honest, he just wanted to enjoy his time in school without the constant worry of pleasing someone who he never saw unless it was behind a screen. It was selfish of him, but he wanted to have fun. This was a new world and he wanted to be free to explore it.

So he ended things.

He’ll never forget the quiet sobs on the other end of the phone as he sat in silence after uttering the words, “I don’t think this is going to work out anymore”.

His heart ached listening to your hushed pleas for him to not do this, to not end things this way. But it was for the best. In the long run, you’d be happier. He’d be happier and what was that corny saying again?

If you love something, set it free? Satoru thinks that’s what he did that day.

And you were so upset. Rightfully so. You loved Satoru. You were each other’s first kiss, first times before you left for college, first loves. You’d quite literally given everything to each other. But Satoru couldn’t commit to you anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to enjoy college, live his life. It may be selfish of him, but he didn’t see it that way. It was his chance to grow. 

Even after all of your pleading, he stuck to his guns. It was torture, listening to you tearfully beg him not to do this to you. He had to end this.

So he told you he’d met someone else, that he couldn’t be with you anymore because there was another woman he wanted to be with. The stretch of silence was painful, Satoru quietly waiting to see if you had anything to add. The call ended with you hanging up in his face with only a choked sob as the last thing he’d heard. 

Adjusting to life without you proved difficult at first. Satoru isn’t embarrassed to admit he moped around campus for a while before he was able to start trying to move on. After that, the next few months of college were great. Satoru was Mr. Popular, quickly rising to the top of his collegiate sports team. He was the life of any party he went to, the center of attention wherever he went. 

Life should’ve felt perfect. 

But as the months passed, Satoru found his mind occupied with the thought of you at the worst times. 

While his professor discusses marketing strategies, Satoru’s mind wanders to you. 

What are you doing right now? 

When he’s at practice getting berated by the coach for poor blocking form, he knows he can’t tell him it’s because he’s distracted by the thought of you.

Who are you with? 

When he’s giving another girl his number at a party, planning to hook up later, he pushes back the memory of the first time he’d spoken to you. 

Where are you?

When he finds himself between another girl's legs that same night, he squeezes his eyes shut, picturing you and biting his tongue as he tries his best not to moan your name.

Do you still think about him?

The months soon stretch into a year and Satoru hopes this intense yearning he has for you will just fade away. He’s not so lucky. If anything, he thinks about you more. He checks your social media profiles to find you’ve removed him as a friend on everything. Of course you did. He ripped your heart in two. There was no way you’d allow him access back into your life. Your accounts are all private, so he can’t see anything and he’s not willing to ask a mutual friend about what you’ve been up to. It only makes him a little bit crazy that you’ve put up this wall between you two so he has no access to you. 

Another six months pass and Satoru works up the nerve to text you for the first time since you’d broken up. He hopes you’ll reply. It’s been more than a year. You can’t possibly still be upset, can you? He can admit that he could have handled the way he ended things better, sure. But if he can get past it, you can too, right?

You never respond.

More months pass by and soon another year. One late night, Satoru slips into his apartment after a failed hookup. He pulls his phone out, scrolling through his contacts to find your name. You didn’t reply to his last text. He doubts you’ll respond to this one, but he takes a deep breath and shoots off a message to you before he changes his mind.

Days later, you finally respond. You chat for a while, sending messages back and forth. Generic things, really. Just catching up. Until one night Satoru musters up the courage to call you.

“Hello?” You answer. There’s soft music in the background and Satoru wonders what you’re up to. Are you home? Maybe you’re relaxing and the music is on for background noise. Or maybe you’re with someone, listening to music to set the mood. There’s an unpleasant twist that forms in his stomach at the thought.

“Hey,” he says easily, though he can barely hear your voice over the rapid pounding of his heart. “I figured a phone call may be easier than just texting. What are you doing?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” He hears you shuffling around, then the quiet click of a door closing as the music fades out. “I’m actually at a friends for dinner.”

A friend. He wants to ask more about your friend, but he knows he has no right to that information anymore. 

“Sorry to interrupt your night,” he tells you, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how tense he is. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“It’s fine. I have a couple minutes to spare.” You sound relaxed. Like speaking to Satoru doesn’t have the same effect on you as it does on him. Like talking to him is just like talking to anybody else. He knows it’s his own fault it’s this way, but it still stings. “Did you need something?”

You.

That’s what Satoru wants to say. More than anything, he wants to tell you that he wants you back, that he needs you back. He wants to tell you he made a mistake breaking up with you, that he’s so sorry. He wants to ask that you’ll please forgive him. 

Satoru wants to say he regrets his decision to call it quits. Wants to admit that he should have made more of an effort to make it work out and not have been so fucking weak. He wants to tell you that if you’re willing to give it another try he is, too.

That’s what he wants.

Because after everything, he still l–

“Satoru?” You repeat your question and Satoru realizes he’s let the silence hang in the air between you both for far too long.

“Oh, I jus–”

“Babe? Dinner’s ready. Do you want any wine with yours?” A deep voice cuts through the quiet and Satoru feels his heart drop hearing someone else call you by the name that was once meant for only his use. He hears soft shuffling and hushed whispers and a “sorry, I thought you were off the phone, babe. You were quiet–”

He can tell you’ve muted your phone. He can’t hear anything anymore. The looming silence makes Satoru want to hang up on you so he can swallow the bitterness he feels. So you had moved on, found someone else who gets to treat you the way Satoru should have. It’s fair. It’s been years since you two had broken up. You’d barely started speaking again. Of course you would find someone new. You were perfect and anyone would be an idiot to let you go. Much like Satoru was.

His thumb lingers over the end call button on his screen…and then you’re back just before he presses it.

“Sorry about that,” you breathe. “Anyway, did you need something, Satoru?”

“That your friend?” Satoru asks, ignoring your question completely. He can’t even pretend it’s not because he wants to know who the hell was calling you ‘babe’.

You clear your throat. “No, ah…that’s my boyfriend,” you finally tell him.

The silence falls over you again for a few seconds, Satoru trying to find his words. Again, it’s fair for you to date someone else. Satoru had ended things. He lost his right to be jealous when he did. And yet, against his better judgment, he leans into the bitterness he felt moments ago, forcing out a laugh. “Good! Oh, that’s good for you. Glad you found someone.”

“...Thanks?”

Satoru hums. “Yeah. I mean, glad we both moved on. I was actually worried when I was calling that you’d still be hung up on me or something.” He winces, but laughs awkwardly again. Knows he just shot himself in the foot. Maybe you’ll just laugh it off, take it as a bad joke.

“Yeah.” Your voice is clipped, short. “Okay, well, it was great catching up with you, Satoru. I have to go now.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Got it. Well, have fun at your din–”

The line goes dead.

Satoru tosses his phone to the side, throws himself back on his bed with a groan. 

“Idiot.”

You don’t return any more of his calls or texts.

......

Present

Satoru’s feet carry him through the crowd, conversation drifting through the air. He can hear Utahime yelling at Suguru and Satoru resists the damn near instinctual urge to turn towards the screeching so he can join Suguru in whatever antics set her off. It’s always funny seeing how red her face gets. He also hears the sounds of Shoko’s airy laugh as she catches up with Nanami and Ijichi. An odd group, he thinks, but Satoru doesn’t have time to dwell on it because he hears the sweet sound of your laugh and–

Wait.

He stops in his tracks, the drink in his hand sloshing with the abrupt halt. He turns his head to peer over the crowd, but he doesn’t see anything, doesn’t see you. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. There’s no way you’d actually be here. You’re overseas. At least, he thinks you may be overseas. That’s the last thing he knew about you for certain. Satoru’s not sure what you’re up to these days. He hasn’t asked, afraid of what the answer will be. He’s not sure he could handle knowing you’re potentially engaged or happily married. Hell, he’s not sure he could handle knowing if you’re dating someone. 

His piercing blue gaze finally lands on you and he realizes Haibara was actually not joking about someone potentially leaving with you tonight. Because you’re right there, off to the side of the crowd with some man, giggling at whatever he’s saying.

Satoru knows it’s you, even from a distance. He couldn’t mistake those beautiful eyes for anyone else's, the way they crinkle ever so slightly in the corners when you smile. He could never mistake those luscious, glossed lips he loved to kiss. You’re all smiles, as stunning as he remembers.

Everything keeps moving as time seems to stand still only for Satoru, his eyes never leaving you. And he knows he’s at this party with someone else. That’s what he should be focused on, but you’re all he cares about right now. His gaze locks onto your lips, following the curve of your smile, the way your tongue darts out just a bit to run along your bottom lip, the way those lips form your words. 

You may still hate him after all this time, but Satoru wants to talk to you. He almost wants to get just close enough for you to notice him. Maybe you’ll make the first move and talk to him.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He thinks, lips pursed in concentration.

He should get back to his actual girlfriend. He’s been gone for too long. She’s bound to come looking for him if he doesn’t get back to her soon. Yeah, he’ll just go back. Talking to you won’t be good for him anyway –

The man you’re speaking to leans forward, his lips moving to your ear and Satoru, with his eyes still glued to your lips, feels his blood boil as he watches them part with what he’s pretty sure is a sigh. When he sees your hand come up to lay on the other man’s arm, his nostrils flare with irritation. When you smirk at what the man is whispering, he feels his jaw tighten. And when the other man’s hand comes to land on your waist, Satoru’s feet move before he even realizes what he’s doing.

As he approaches, the man steps away, a slick grin on his face and you roll your eyes, shaking your head and giggling. Are you actually flirting with this guy? It’s only as he gets closer that Satoru can better make out who it is; poorly done bleach job, shitty eyeliner around his eyes, and too many ear piercings. It’s just Naoya Zenin. From what Satoru remembers, you hated that fucker all of high school.

Unless something’s changed and suddenly you’re into him? Is this who you’re dating now?

Satoru wants to be pissed, but this may work in his favor. If you could be on good terms with Naoya, who you absolutely despised for as long as you’d known him, then maybe you had room in your heart to forgive him for being such a piece of shit to you all those years ago.

Your eyes drift over to Satoru as he approaches you both. And you hardly react, only offering him a small smile before your attention drifts back to Naoya. And though a tiny curve of your lips is something, the lack of a reaction kind of annoys the shit out of him.

“Hey,” Satoru greets, mainly directed towards you because fuck Naoya.

“Hi, Satoru.” You fold your arms over your chest, eyes coming back to meet his. God, you’re as pretty as Satoru remembers you being. This close to you, Satoru can see how much you’ve changed. And time has been very good to you. You’re still beautiful in the youthful way Satoru remembers, but you’re grown now. His eyes trail down your frame quickly, drinking in the way you’ve filled out.

“Gojo…” Naoya says with clear disdain in his voice.

“Zenin.”

And it’s quiet now. Awkward. But it doesn’t matter to Satoru. His eyes are only on you.

You pull your gaze away from Satoru and back to Naoya.

“You look great,” Satoru tells you, sipping the drink meant for his girlfriend to keep himself from potentially following up with something stupid. He grimaces slightly at the taste before trying to cover it with a lopsided grin.

And you give him the same grin back, a little shy. It’s cute.

“Thanks, Satoru. You look good, too.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yeah, I’ve been back for a few months now. Just settling back in and working,” your brows knit together as you lean to the side to glance around Satoru. “I’m surprised Suguru didn’t tell you since I just had lunch with him like two days ago.”

He realizes you must be looking for Suguru when you straighten your stance again. Deep in his mind, Satoru makes a mental note to have a word with Suguru about this later. Next to him, Naoya snorts and Satoru has to resist saying something that will surely end with them in a fight. You must sense the tension because you ask Naoya if he can grab you a drink which prompts an eye roll from him, but he goes anyway. 

“Doubt he’ll be back,” you mutter to Satoru with a smirk. “That asshole wants to hook up so bad it’s pathetic,” a soft chuckle rushes past your lips.

“Not interested, then?” Satoru jokes, a smile spread across his face.

You narrow your eyes, “Ha ha. You know I hate that guy. He won’t be back anyway. No way he’s gonna waste time getting a drink for someone who isn’t fucking him at the end of the night.”

If you weren’t still watching Naoya push his way through the crowd of partygoers, you may have seen Satoru visibly deflate.

“Ah, good to know you haven’t lowered your standards,” Satoru says and you laugh. The sound makes Satoru’s head spin. It’s been so long since he’s heard it.

“I don’t think my standards could ever be low enough to fuck Naoya,” you clarify, nose crinkling in disgust. Satoru chuckles at your reaction, watching as you shift uncomfortably before him. You fidget with the hem of your dress before you speak again.

“It’s actually really good to see you, Satoru.”

“Is it really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to reach out for a while. Life just got away from me.”

Satoru’s brows lift in surprise. “Reach out for what?” Your eyes are boring into his, wide and surveying, peering into his soul. Just the way they always did. 

“I just felt like things left off on such a sour note with us. And you reached out trying to build a friendship and at the first sign of things getting weird, I just…ran. Didn’t look back. You were trying and I wasn’t. You didn’t deserve that.”

He knows you’re referring to the last time you’d spoken, though he’s not sure why you’re the one trying to apologize.

“And I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being a terrible friend to you.”

You always were way too sweet to him. He didn’t deserve that.

“I should be apologizing to you,” Satoru shakes his head. “I was still jealous back then. When I said I was worried you were still hung up on me, it’s because I was trying to cover up the fact that I was still hung up on you. Hearing your boyfriend call you babe–”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you interrupt, a soft smile gracing your features. Satoru smirks.

“Hearing your ex-boyfriend call you babe, it just…made me feel a lot of things I didn’t understand at the time. I shouldn’t have said what I did to set you off. I’m sorry.”

It’s only been a few minutes of you talking and it already feels like a weight has been lifted, like the wall you put up all those years ago has come down. You both must look strange, just standing off in the corner alone staring and smiling at each other like you’re the only two people in the room. 

You talk a bit more, catch up on life. It doesn’t take long for things to feel comfortable between you two again - for your bodies to move a little closer, for your eyes to meet more often, for your shy touches to linger a little longer.

You’ve got your hand wrapped around Satoru’s forearm, snickering at something he’s said. And when you glance up at him, there’s something in your eyes telling him it’s okay to ask this. Because Satoru is happy to know you’re not interested in Naoya, even happier to know you’ve broken up with your college boyfriend, but what he wants to know now is –

“Are you seeing anyone? Dating, I mean,” He asks while he still has the nerve and tries not to let his eyes fall to your mouth when you shake your head and draw your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Nope, single and just enjoying life honestly. You?”

Yes.

“Me?” Satoru asks.

Say yes, stupid.

You nod. “Yeah, you. Are you with someone?”

Yes. Yes.

“Uhh, well…”

YES.

The voice in his head is screaming the answer, the one he knows he should give you. The one that would confirm to Satoru that even after everything he’s done, he’s not a shitty person, not a terrible boyfriend. But when he looks at you, eyes shining up at him with those pretty lips curled into a smirk, he doesn’t want anything more than to be with you.

God, he’s such a piece of shit. He knows it. He’s not even thinking about his girlfriend still sitting around waiting for him to come back. He’s got tunnel vision and the only thing he sees is you.

Say yes!

“I…am not…with someone.”

......

The door to Suguru’s master bathroom slams shut, your back pressed against it as Satoru’s lips find your neck, licking a long strip from your collarbone up to your chin. 

“Ah- Toru, the door. Lock the door,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his soft tresses to pull him down for a kiss. His fingers fumble around before he finds the lock, quickly turning before he breaks the kiss to focus on your neck again, kissing and sucking, marking anywhere he can. Your hands move to glide underneath his shirt, fingers grazing over his defined muscles and you sigh just as Satoru moves away from your neck to press his lips against yours.

Soft. So soft. It’s been so long since Satoru’s had you like this. He’d forgotten your taste, your smell and right now, it feels like he can’t get enough. Fuck the liquor, he’s drunk on you.

“Can I touch you?” Satoru breathes against your mouth. And you nod, kissing him again. He groans as your lips part, tongue slipping out to glide against his lips, seeking entry. And he obliges, gives you all the access you want as your tongues tangle together. You moan into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his cock.

The dress you’re wearing is nice, simple but fits your body beautifully. Satoru can’t wait to get underneath it. He reaches down, pulling the hem of your dress up until it’s sitting at your waist. He slips his hand into your panties, hissing when he feels how soaked you are.

“So wet for me,” Satoru whispers into the kiss. “You want me that bad, baby?”

You nod, panting hard. “Yeah, so bad, Satoru,” you moan when his fingers glide through your slick fold, back arching off the door. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“I’m yours, baby.”

His lips crash into yours again, fingers working tight circles against your clit. You cry out, your hands balling into fists as you cling to Satoru’s shirt. He breaks the kiss, pressing his face into your neck as one of his fingers finds your entrance, plunging in slowly. Your mouth opens with a gasp as Satoru pumps into you, curling his finger until he finds your sweet spot.

He pulls back, watches your face as he slips another finger inside. He likes the way your legs shake when he turns his fingers a certain way. And the way your back arches off the door when he presses his thumb to your clit. It’s all new to him, these reactions you’re giving. You were a lot younger when you’d first become intimate. Now, it’s clear you’re much more experienced. The thought bothers and excites Satoru.

He pulls his fingers from your core, kissing you when you poke your lip out in a pout. And then he’s bending you over the bathroom sink, pushing your dress even higher before he slips his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.

“Fuck, I never thought I’d see you like this again,” he groans, palming himself through his pants.

“Toru, stop wasting time and fuck me, please.”

You’re a lot more demanding now too, apparently. He doesn’t mind.

“Did you miss me?” Satoru asks, because he’s dying to know. Did you think about him when you were with your boyfriend? Were you trying not to cry out Satoru’s name when you fucked him? Did you want him back as much as he wanted you?

Satoru unbuttons his jeans, pulls his pants and boxers down together, hissing as his cock springs free. He’s so fucking hard, he could cum just looking at you bent over the sink like this. But Satoru wants to savor you, wants to enjoy this moment of having you again for the first time in so long. He reaches over and pulls open one of the bathroom drawers, fishing around until he finds a condom and he mentally thanks Suguru for always being prepared.

“Tell me,” he demands, wrapping a hand around his length. He strokes himself lazily as he rips the condom open. He rolls the condom down his length, lining himself up with your entrance. “Did you miss me?”

You’re so patient, waiting quietly for Satoru. Although, he can hear your breathing becoming a little harsher in anticipation. Satoru moves behind you, lines himself up with your entrance and just before he’s about to roll his hips forward, he glances up to see his reflection in the mirror with you bent over and ready for him.

“Look at me,” he says. You look up, watching him through the reflection. Even in the dim lighting of the bathroom, Satoru can see your pupils blown wide with lust matching his own. He wants to see you, wants to see your face when you take him for the first time in so long.

“Look at me,” he tells you again.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Tell me you missed me,” Satoru quietly demands as he pushes forward, sliding the tip through your folds and sinking in slowly.

“Fuuuuuuck,” your mouth falls slack with a moan. Satoru’s hands find your waist, holding your curves as he sinks into you. “I missed you, Toru. So much, so fucking much.”

“God, baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.”

He’s halfway in and he has to stop to catch his breath because hearing you moan his name like that…He may not make it all the way in without blowing his load right into the condom. You’re suffocating him, clenching onto his cock so hard he’s almost afraid to move.

“Satoru, please. Don’t stop,” you plead. He meets your gaze in the mirror again, sees the way your eyes burn with desire. Satoru pulls his hips back until only his tip sits inside you and then he rolls his hips forward, burying himself as deep in your cunt as he can.

Your walls clench down on his cock and he moans again before he starts to move, pounding into you at an unrelenting pace. You cry out his name and he keeps moving, not letting up.

Satoru brings a hand around your neck, holding your head in place so he can look at you through the mirror. He sinks into you, bending down to kiss along your neck, your shoulders, your back as he bottoms out again and again, moaning his pleasure against you.

Satoru thinks you feel like heaven. It’s the only thing he can think when he leans back and grips on to your waist again, watching your face contort in ecstasy. Every little sound you make, every moan, every sigh, every “right there” you utter brings Satoru closer and closer to his release. 

Satoru has missed you. He’s missed the way your skin feels against his, missed the way your breath hitches in your throat when his cock hits just the right spot, missed touching and grabbing the soft curves of your beautiful body. Missed how your ass bounces with each thrust, cheeks spreading just enough to give him a glimpse of that tight little hole he’s never gotten the chance to have. And god, he hopes no one else has either. 

More than anything though, he’s missed the way you take all of him, hug him tight like you never want to let him go. Fuck, he could live inside you and never get tired of it. The thought alone, the thought of having you all to himself again has him leaning forward, moaning into the space between your shoulders as he rocks his hips against you. The loud smacking noises of Satoru’s groin meeting your ass echo throughout the bathroom, and he doesn’t care who hears. 

“Fuuuck, how are you so fucking tight, still?” Satoru groans, reminiscing on the first time he’d ever had you. An out of body experience for him, personally. Truly unforgettable.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he grunts, feeling your walls begin to flutter around him.

“Toru, I’m close,” you whimper. “So close, Toru, don’t stop.”

“Cum for me baby,” Satoru groans, hand sliding down your side to find your center again. He rubs tight circles on your clit, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels your pussy squeeze down on him as you cry out his name, your release crashing over you.

It’s so tight, so fucking tight Satoru thinks he might pass out. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t fucking see straight, you’re gripping him so hard.

“Ah- fuck, oh fuck! I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he grits out as he pushes his cock all the way inside you, thrusting as deep as he can go as hot spurts of cum fill the condom. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your back as you both catch your breath.

Satoru meant what he said. He never wants to let you go. He has every intention of being with you. After you’ve both come down from your highs and cleaned up, Satoru kisses you gently. He watches as you turn back to the mirror. You’re even more beautiful as you tame your messy hair, fix your makeup and adjust your dress. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, ready to make up for years worth of lost time.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, your lips tilting with a small smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

......

Fingers laced, you and Satoru weave through the party together. The crowd seems to have thinned out now with how late it’s getting. It’s the perfect time to get out of here with you, take you home and –

“Satoru! There you are!” A familiar voice squeals. The sound makes Satoru quickly yank his hand from your grip. You stop in your tracks, brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“What’s the matter?” You ask just as this person you don’t know bounds up to him and wraps her arms around Satoru’s neck, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek before she lets go.

And Satoru isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed this before. It seems like some sick twist of fate that it’s only now that you’re standing next to each other that he sees how eerily similar you and his girlfriend look. It makes his stomach churn.

But his girlfriend, so drunk and so sweet, turns to you and beams as she holds out her hand to you. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Satoru’s girlfriend…” His stomach nearly drops into his ass. “...you are?”

God, he wishes he could teleport out of here. Or that the ground would open wide and swallow him whole, bury him 8,000 meters beneath the earth. Anything to avoid being present at this moment. He peers down at you briefly, your hand extending to shake his girlfriends for only a second. And Satoru thinks he may be imagining it, the sheer anger he can feel radiating off of your body, even as you return his girlfriend’s sweet smile.

“Satoru’s girlfriend?” You ask and he knows you’re making sure you aren’t hearing things. Because not too long ago, he told you he wasn’t tied down to anyone. “I wasn’t aware he was dating anyone.”

“Yep! Been together almost a year now,” she brags cheerily. Satoru really wishes she’d shut up for once in her damn life.

You breathe out a bitter laugh, gazing up at Satoru and he knows he’s not imagining the rage. He can see it swimming in your eyes even as you reach up, your thumb gently swiping the corner of his mouth where apparently remnants of your lip gloss remained. You hold your finger up to show him and then hold it up to show his girlfriend who five seconds ago was too drunk to notice. She seems to have sobered up quickly now, eyes focused on the lip gloss you just wiped from Satoru’s face.

You introduce yourself to her, wiping your thumb off on your dress before continuing, “And I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m the girl who just fucked your lying boyfriend in the bathroom.”

Satoru watches in ill disguised horror as you crane your next to the side, gesturing to the marks he so stupidly made along your neck in the heat of passion. His eyes find his girlfriend who stands there, mouth agape.

“Satoru told me he wasn’t seeing anyone. If I had known it wouldn’t have happened. And believe me, it won’t ever happen again.” You turn to face Satoru one last time, gritting out, “I can’t fucking believe you. After all these years, you’re still such a piece of shit, Satoru.”

You don’t wait for a response from him, turning on your heel and storming through the crowd. Satoru watches as your back retreats, not sure what the hell he’d say even if he did catch up to you. How could he explain that he lied about his girlfriend because he wanted to spend more time with you? It’s not like he planned on fucking in the bathroom, it just happened. But there was no way you were going to give him a second of your time to try and explain.

There was no coming back from this.

When he finally loses sight of you in the crowd, Satoru reluctantly brings his gaze back down to his probably soon to be ex-girlfriend and is met with a fury similar to yours. Again, the similarities are uncanny. All the love and happiness once shining in her eyes is nowhere to be found as one question hangs in the air between them.

“Satoru, what the fuck is she talking about?”

AN: OOF, let me know what you think!

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[s1ater]

i do what i have to do.

pairings. bellamy blake x fem!reader

part two of two.

about. in which you point your gun at someone you never thought you’d point it at.

warnings. swearing

ricky rocks. look who finally finished a year old one shot/fic/whatever you call it 🤗🤗

bellamy coudn’t hurt you even if he wanted to. so, when mumbling the words, ‘move or i’ll kill you’, you could see right through his bluff by the way his eyes so willingly betrayed him, filled with... hurt.

in all truth, bellamy believed you would have shot him if it would have come down to that, and maybe that’s what pained him most. he wouldn't hurt a hair on your head, and you would have, but only for the best interest and safety of arkadia and your friends. 

you never wanted to hurt bellamy, but recently you really, really wanted to slap him upside the head for all the stupid shit he had been doing. and maybe a gun scare would knock some sense into him, or maybe it would only put him deeper into the hole pike was digging for him. 

bellamy yanked you to your feet quickly after the two of you had seemed to have recovered from all the commotion that had just taken place. you weren't sure whether or not he wanted to get you away from the increase in rowdy crowd or to have his way with you first. 

you were beginning to think it was the last option as he marched down the hall with you in front of him, gripping your left arm while the other pressed against your back. one, two, three, four more steps before he shoved you into one of the guards rooms, his room. 

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he let go of your arm with a slight shove causing you to stumble forward a bit. he looked angry, more than you had ever seen him and more than you would have ever wished to see.

“bellamy, don’t start with me,” you mumbled, raising a finger to harshly accuse him... for something. “if you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”

he scoffed, looking beyond dumbfounded with his mouth slight agape, not believing the words that had just came from your mouth.

“stop fucking talking,” he needed to think. he begun to pace back and forth, and you had no idea what to do with yourself as you watched him. “i need to get you out of here.”

"what?"

he gives you a dumbfounded look that was filled with a sense of urgency, "y/n, you just shot someone that can have you dead within seconds. you don't leave, someone’s going to do exactly what you did, and take justice into their own hands."

"you should have let me finish the job."

"we're not starting this," he grips your shoulder before pushing you by your upper back. "people are leaving. o, kane, miller—you go with them. you stay, they'll kill you."

"how do you know this?" you mumbled, glancing back at the mention of your friends and the planned escape you all had developed. bellamy was considered a traitor to you all, so he would be the last person on your list to concern with the escape plan. 

"eyes everywhere."

you narrow your brows at him, "you're coming with."

he narrows his brows in shock, not expecting you to say this, you share the same expression, also shocked by yourself. the past month would explain this--not only had you watched your world at arkadia fastly crumble after the slow rebuild of humanity, you also witnessed your relationship with bellamy slowly tank moment after moment while his with pike was created.

so, offering passage was an absurd idea. after all the betrayal.

he seems to wince after his surprisal settles but is quick to keep a straight face as best as he can, "you're getting the wrong idea."

"am i?"

"we're not friends anymore, y/n. this isn't old times," his words are intentionally stinging, but you don't miss the look on his face that betrays him. "you can't save me if that’s what you’re thinking. I don't need to be saved, i know what i’m doing."

you frown, "bellamy, you need to stop acting like there's never going to be a happy ending for you before it comes true. leave with us."

"you know i can't do that."

"why not?"

"I dug myself in too deep this time," his face was still stone cold, but it didn't prevent remorse from blossoming in your chest. "maybe if you weren't such a terrible shot, this would be all over."

***

in well under an hour bellamy had you out of arkadia, alone. your friends had left a lot sooner than thought and no matter how much begging you did—expectedly—bellamy left his mind unchanged. 

you knew exactly where your friends were going—where they’d be. it was a long and lonely hike but it was enough time for reflection.

you miss the time where you felt like a kid still. where you were young and reckless and full of hope that you’d finally get to be free upon that first step off the drop ship. that you had purpose and will and fighting was something you hadn’t really minded aside from the possible side affect of death.

now you were tired. you just wanted to lay your head down for once and not think about the pointless rivalry purging your everyday life.

“y/n, you’re okay,” octavia pulls you into a tight hug, a certain relief setting over. “god, after we hadn’t seen you, we assumed the worst.”

“i’m okay,” you gave her a thin-lipped smile, “thanks to your brother.”

“bellamy?” she seems shocked, like that’s the first courteous thing he’s done for someone in years.

“yes,” you nod, understanding the hostile tone she almost takes with his name. “i think he might’ve saved me.”

“where is bellamy?” miller speaks causing you to realize they had all emerged from the cave.

"he's gone."

"dead?"

"no,” you shake your head, “he stayed behind. he said he had to fix some thing’s before he showed his face again.”

octavia mentally rolled her eyes, but kept her composure as she watched you, “you’re here. that’s all that matters.”

***

“is he dead?”

“indra has him.”

“bellamy-“

“y/n,” he gives you a pointed look at your protest. “you know that’s as good as dead.”

he was right. pike killed her people, that was far from unforgivable. he’d be lucky to receive death.

“she didn’t kill you.”

he shook his head, keeping his eyes low to the ground, “thanks to o.”

it took a day for bellamy to find you all. his face was beaten and bloodied, but you knew better than to ask what the cause was. he had a lot of enemies at the moment and it wasn’t like this was something out of the blue for him. you would've been surprised to see a clean face.

“she doesn’t hate you as much as you think.”

“i’d like to think she doesn’t hate me at all,” he presses his lips into a thin line. “you’re right though.”

you nod, trying to look sympathetic.

“about everything. i’m sorry.”

your mouth slightly opens in shock from not anticipating his words; apology and admitting.

“i’m sorry too,” you nod, swallowing harshly as you think about having that gun pointed inches from his face. “i would’ve never shot you.”

“you sure?” his voice is lighthearted, but you can tell he’s genuine when asking. “could’ve guessed otherwise.”

“guessing will only hurt you,” you tease, but quickly drop the blitheness. “i shouldn’t have done it, but i was scared… and angry.”

“i know,” he whispers, “we do what we have to do, right?”

“right.”

“then if that means shooting me to knock some sense into me, do it.”

a laugh gets stuck in the back of your throat at the preposterous thought of it. the funny thing was you knew he wasn’t joking. classic bellamy, putting himself in harm’s way.

“me a couple months ago would be more than happy to oblige,” you shake your head, making it his turn to laugh.

“us a couple months ago was a different story. i’m sure we already had guns to each other’s throats.”

you laugh with him, “yeah.”

“never again.”

nodding, “never again.”

you stare at one another now, quiet and calm. you don’t think you’ve ever had a moment like this with bellamy before.

you’re not sure what to do, but bellamy does.

your months of angsty butting heads leading to civilness, then ultimately leading to radio silence on both of your ends due to pike, had killed him. and now, here you were, back in his grasp of more than just civilness, he couldn’t let that go.

“i lied,” he mumbles, suddenly shifting from the rock he sat on. “instead of shooting me…” he’s leaning now, hovering, and just barely resisting the urge to complete his intentions. you feel his breath fan your face; feel, because your eyes are shut. “please, just kiss me.”

his nose is slotted against yours, still hovering as he watches you beneath his eye lashes. his lips are so close… so close to yours, it’s killing him that he waits.

“i’m sorry, but i have to do this,” he smiles before finally pressing his lips against yours.

@thecraziestcrayon @mynewnamedoesnotmatter @myalupinblack @cc13723things @Uselesssapphickitten @black-rose-29 @reality-runaway @let-love-bleeds-red @rudypankowisdaddy @the-anxious-youth @kitkat-mini @itzstacie @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @dayanaralight @nyx3028 @hizziestial @ritz-hell-hotel @fruitiseavey @kayalect @deathtobarbie @areil4 @strnqer @mystic-writings @gbrownn @moonlighy @straightzoinked @thelaststraw3 @navyabhatnagar @alexxavicry @esposadomd @lupinsluvbot

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

Dustin half-expects the phone to ring in the evening—that maybe Eddie will have said something to Steve about how he’s been a dick to him—but no such call ever comes.

So he pretends like he’s busy with homework, times heading to dinner carefully, so that his mom’s got her back to the stove when he limps over to his seat.

At night, he waits until he hears the click of her lamp going off, then manages to smuggle a bag of peas out of the freezer without being noticed. He wraps it up in a dish towel and places it on his ankle, under the bed covers.

He doesn’t sleep.

-

If the weather’s not bad, he usually rides his bike to school, but he pretends to oversleep and gets the bus instead.

The day drags, but it’s fine.

It’s fine until he decides to go to the bathroom during the tail end of last period—reasons that so long as the receptionist doesn’t catch him, he can head to the bus stop early afterwards.

He thinks he’s alone.

But then as he’s drying his hands, he hears a stall door open lightning fast, and he’s suddenly pinned up against the wall, so close that he can see Aaron’s nostrils flare.

“The thing is, Henderson,” he says, as if they’re just picking up from where they left off; he’s got that tone, Dustin thinks, that ‘good people of Hawkins’ tone. Hiding behind a mask of respectability. “Folks seem to think that the buck stopped with Munson, huh? But I know he would’ve passed his sick shit on.”

It takes a moment for the penny to drop.

“You think I’m leading Hellfire,” Dustin says. He almost laughs. A surge of adrenaline briefly overtakes the fear, and maybe he feels like he’s borrowed a little of Steve’s daring, a little of Eddie’s sharp tongue when he says, “Oh, you’re fucking stupid.”

It happens very quickly.

Cold metal pressed to his throat.

He freezes. Thinks of Sattler Quarry again, of a switchblade, a threat to cut his teeth out.

“They say he took Chrissy’s eyes first,” Aaron says. “Gouged them out.” He presses a little harder. “I could do the same to you.”

Dustin grits his teeth, tries to hold his breath. Feels the ridge of uneven grouting digging into his back.

The school bell shrieks.

And he’s falling.

He only just stops himself from hitting the ground, bangs his knee against a sink. Left alone, he coughs and coughs as the stampede of people leaving class rumbles on outside.

Saved by the bell, says a wry voice in his head. It sounds a bit like Eddie.

Eventually he manages to look in the mirror. There’s a line across his neck, almost touching his Adam’s apple; tiny beads of blood from where the knife was pushed hard against his skin. He cleans it up with paper towels, tries not to gag.

Steve had a mark like this, he thinks; he remembers seeing it when they first discovered the gate in Eddie’s trailer.

Steve never flinched.

-

His mom’s packing for a wedding out of town, which means he’ll be spending an ‘extra long weekend’ at Steve’s, Thursday through to Monday—something he’d ordinarily be looking forward to.

But right now he can only focus on hiding his neck. He keeps his coat zipped up when he enters his house, all casual, then changes into an old sweater that covers the mark if he folds the turtle neck just so.

As his mom triple checks her case, he relies on her distraction and steals an old tube of foundation.

He dabs it on his neck, wincing at the abrasion.

Another sleepless night.

Why is this so hard? After everything that’s happened, this is nothing.

It should be nothing.

-

He almost misses Eddie’s van completely, even though it’s parked obnoxiously at the very front of the parking lot. It takes Eddie honking the horn for an embarrassingly long time until Dustin notices him.

“Steve’s picking me up,” he mumbles.

“He took Robin’s shift, she’s sick. So you get me,” Eddie says, complete with the world’s most passive-aggressive jazz hands. “You know, if that’s okay with you and all.”

Dustin doesn’t have the energy to bite back—sure, Eddie’s snippy, whatever—so he just huffs in acknowledgement and gets in the van. His head aches with fatigue; he can barely even feel relief that the day passed without incident.

Lucas had passed him a piece of paper with a comical stick figure during History: ‘Are you okay? You look like your brain is melting through your ears.’ He didn’t even have time to enjoy the stupid drawing, because the teacher busted them for passing notes soon after.

“What’s up with you?”

Dustin starts at the question—only then realises that he’s been pressing his forehead hard against the window as Eddie makes a turning for Steve’s house.

“Nothing. What’s up with you?”

And it should land on just the right side of petty for Eddie to give him shit about it.

But instead, all he hears is the uneasy drumming of rings against a steering wheel, a soft, “Right, right.”

Eddie isn’t angry anymore; he’s worried. Guilt twists Dustin’s insides.

He heads straight upstairs for the bathroom when they reach Steve’s, uncaring of the fact that Eddie can probably see him limp up every step.

The problem is that he doesn’t think—he just does.

Throws off his coat. Turns on the faucet. Splashes cold water in his face.

It helps, but his eyes still itch. Maybe he can pull out the mountains of homework card again, camp out in the guest room and sleep until Steve—

A faint knock on the other side of the door.

“Hey, uh. Just checking you haven’t died, man.”

And Dustin hates that he’s made Eddie sound hesitant.

“Yeah, I’m so dead. Oooo.”

Eddie chuckles slightly. But then he says, “Listen, did I do something? Like, tell me to fuck off, if so.”

“Fuck off,” Dustin says, not convincing in the slightest.

In the silence, he can practically hear the cogs in Eddie’s brain turning.

“You didn’t run track.”

It’s not a question.

Dustin rubs at his eyes. “I got tripped.”

“…Tripped,” Eddie echoes. “Dustin. Come on.”

“Fine. I… got in a fight.”

“You?”

“What, is that hard to believe?” Dustin snaps.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is, actually.”

There’s something in Eddie’s tone that makes Dustin’s eyes threaten to burn. It sounds like I know you.

“Well, go on. Gimme the details. What, did you place bets in the cafeteria about who would—”

“No-one else saw,” Dustin says, then immediately cringes at the fact that he’s walked right into Eddie’s trap and given answers.

“Oh, well fucking done,” Eddie says, and maybe it’s meant to sound sharp, but Dustin can only hear how it’s tight with anxiety. “So someone started shit, and you decided, in your infinite wisdom, to settle it alone, when anything could’ve—”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do? Just let them keep saying—”

“You run,” Eddie says. “Jesus Christ, Henderson, I don’t give a flying fuck what they were saying. You run like hell out of there, and you don’t look back, do you fucking hear—”

“You didn’t run!” Dustin says.

He hadn’t planned on saying it at all; the words feel like they’ve been ripped out of him, his voice wrecked.

Silence.

The door opens. Eddie looks completely floored.

“Was this about me?” he asks very quietly.

Dustin looks away. “He—he just—you didn’t hear what he was saying. Eddie, it was. Bad.”

And I’ll never repeat it, he thinks. I’m never using that fucking awful word.

“Hey, what’s that on your…?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, and Dustin realises too late that he’s staring at his neck.

“Are you wearing make-up?” Eddie says, faintly baffled, and Dustin sees the exact moment that he recognises the mark for what it is, because his eyes widen. “Oh, Jesus.”

Dustin uselessly tries to cover it up with his hand. “It’s—it’s fine, it didn’t even—”

But his words die away at the sight of Eddie’s rapidly paling face.

Stop it, Dustin almost wants to say. Between everything that Eddie and Steve have… this is nothing.

He doesn’t expect Eddie bursting into tears.

“Oh God,” Eddie’s saying, and his breathing’s all wrong, “Dustin, please, please don’t—” But it’s like the words are choking him, like he can only stare at Dustin’s neck as if the world is ending.

The front door opening. Steve’s voice echoing, calling out a questioning greeting.

“Hey? You in the kitchen?”

Dustin moves quickly, shoves past Eddie.

“Dustin,” Eddie says again, loud in his panic, “d-don’t go, come on—”

He knows precisely when Steve can hear the fact that Eddie is crying, because his footsteps are rapid on the stairs, speech just as quick and frantic, “What happened, what happened?”

Dustin briefly feels Steve’s hand close around his elbow, “Hey, hey, what’s—?”, but he wrenches himself free. Runs down the stairs as fast as he can, stumbles on the last step.

He feels his ankle give way, and his heart is suddenly pounding like he’s back in The Upside Down—and he lies there, guilt and embarrassment in every heaving breath he takes.

[georgiapeach30513]

Much Too Fast, Part 3

Summary: Curtis is a jealous man

Pairings: Curtis Everett X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, making out, groping, tension, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.6K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers by @firefly-graphics

Curtis paces back and forth in his room. He contemplated on letting Poet start her night off in his room because he could use some comfort. And then the thought of relying on his nine month old daughter irritated him. His comfort was not Poet’s responsibility.

You are on a date with Jax. He knew about Curtis’ feelings about you, and he came here to pick you up. He knew, and still chose to drive up to his house while you were holding his daughter, and take you out on a date. His stupid little smirk. Ugh. Curtis is pissed off at his partner and best friend. When he got the address, Jax should have walked away. But no, he wanted to torture Curtis.

Sure, Jax didn’t know. But at some point when you gave the address, he knew. And why were you so eager to go on a date? You had only just moved here. And he knows he gave you the best night of your life. The two of you are still trying to fight off those feelings. Every day trying to deny every move and thrust into you he made.

Well, he wasn’t. You were trying with every part of you to pretend that you didn’t care about the night that you shared. Ignored how Poet is already attached to you because she needed you as much as he did. And that sounds stupid. He’s had you once, and known you for a few days.

Maybe Jax was right, he had a sweet spot and it was Poet, and he is becoming obsessed with this idea, and who is that helping? Definitely not him. But you were with Jax. Jax! You couldn’t handle that man, and he didn’t deserve you. Curtis didn’t even deserve you. He was in a complicated relationship with a woman that didn’t love him and he didn’t love her. And then Poet. Whoever he dated had to contend with that baby being in their life, and you did it easily.

Was it too easy? That’s something that he thought about more often than he cared to admit. He is romanticizing someone he shouldn’t want or have. But what are the odds of you being the one to pick him up? Of having the best night of his life only to see you here the very next day? That sounds a lot like fate to him.

He hears the rumble of Jax’s stupid motorcycle, and his pacing picks up. He had to do something. Jax isn’t going to shut up about tonight. He’s going to get into his ear. Making up shit just to get under his skin. That’s just who Jax is.

”Fuck it,” Curtis growls. Grabbing the bottom hem of his shirt, he yanks it over his head, and bends over to pull off his socks, and finally his pants. He grabs Poet’s baby monitor and a couple of towels before inhaling deeply, he walks out of his bedroom, and directly to the pool in nothing but his boxers.

His bare feet hit the concrete, and he lays down the monitor, making sure the sound is completely up before diving into the pool. Resurfacing as you walk through the gate, and pause staring at him.

You hold his gaze for way too long, before wiggling your shoulders, and walking towards the pool house. Purposely keeping your eyes in front of you. Curtis’ cocky self swims right along with your gait before you stop, and turn towards him. Damn his pretty smile. Damn him. “What do you want?”

“How was the date?” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to think about how you could play this. Would he think less of you if you told him a lie? Why would you want to make him jealous?

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“So all you got was a kiss?” He cocks his brow up, and you have to look away. He’s testing your patience while digging for information. Needing to know exactly how quick you are, and you aren’t sure how to play this. Do you want to make him more jealous? And if so, why? Why do you desire to have him seething because it wasn’t him?

“If I told you he bent me over his motorcycle, and fucked me what would you say?” His jaw tenses, and he stands up fully out of the water, leaning his body over the edge as he stares up at you. “What?”

“Tell me you’re lying,” there’s a bit of anger in his face, but his eyes are telling a different story. You could be dreaming, but you see desperation for what you said to not be true.

“Why? Why do you even care?”

“You didn’t have fun that first night? Don’t we…you enjoy it here with Poet?”

He looks positively downtrodden. No anger is laced in his words, just…pain? But that didn’t even make sense. You had one night with him, and the other days were trying to fight the urge to sneak into his bedroom. “But you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell the whole truth. If I had told you I had a daughter and was married to a woman that I respect, but don’t love, what would you have said? Told you that we sometimes lived together, and the only reason we do is because I don’t want Tati to resent my daughter more than she does when she has to wake up in the middle of the night to deal with our child. Meanwhile she goes flying around on ‘business trips’ with her…” Curtis shakes his head no as he stares off into the distance. He almost went too far.

“That isn’t my story to tell.”

“Then what story is yours to tell?” You didn’t understand, and at this rate, you doubt you would. “I’ve only been around you without Tati, I’ve never even seen the two of you together,” his sinful fingers coast up your leg, and he gives you a wicked grin.

“Get in the pool.”

“Number one I don’t have a suit. Number two tell me the story that is yours to tell.”

“First, you don’t need a suit. I’ll even turn around for you to get undressed. Two, Tati isn’t on a business trip, she’s on another vacation with her partner. Her sexual partner. Now get in this pool with me,” you sigh, but start to shimmy out of your dress. You didn’t think Tati having sex with another man was the opening you wanted to be with Curtis, but knowing she was with someone else set you at ease a tiny tiny bit.

Standing there in nothing but your barely there but coordinated lingerie, you give a bite to your lip. “You, in the pool,” Curtis points between you and the pool. Becoming impatient at you not being closer to him.

“This bra is expensive.”

“Take it off then,” that fucking smirk. He is such an asshole. “Fine, I’ll turn around,” he twists his body in the opposite direction, and you throw it on a chair, and jump in right beside him. Surfacing the water, and amazingly Curtis keeps his eyes up. But did you want him to look. It isn’t anything he hasn’t seen, but…is that going too far. My god, you want him. And very little separated the two of you. This is a dangerous bad idea.

“So how long has Tati had another partner?”

“I answered your question, now you answer mine,” it is only fair. He did answer a difficult question. “Did you let Jax touch you?” He is almost too dominant for his own good. Feeling like you owed him your loyalty because he had you first. “I’m just trying to understand where I stand.”

“Explain, please.”

“Oh, she got her manners back. I like that,” cocky little asshole. “I just don’t think you,” he stops, really trying to think and to choose his words carefully. “I don’t like the idea with you and him,” you tilt your head to the side, your lips pursing, and he starts moving closer to you. Keeping your arms crossed over your chest, he backs you up against the side of the pool.

Placing his hands on either side of your body. Looking up at you through his lashes, he is a walking wet dream, “The thought of his hands on you…I don’t like it.”

”Did it make you jealous?” You taunt. Not realizing just how much you have been driving him mad until now. “Does it bother you to think of his lips on mine? For him to say filthy things in my ear?”

He takes a deep breath, his mouth spreading out into a sinful grin. His eyes flick down to your mouth, and then back to your eyes, “If he touched you, you wouldn’t be standing here acting like an arrogant little bitch. Let me guess, you got a peck just beside your mouth?”

“Shut up,” he is right. It was just a simple little kiss, and a thank you. No, promises of calling you later. A peck and a thanks.

”Do you enjoy teasing, Grace?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because it’s working,” you gulp as you stare up at him, starting to shake your head no when his hand presses lightly against your cheek. “I don’t have a right to, but I want to ask you to not see Jax again.”

“We have no future, Curtis.”

“Because why?” You don’t have a clear reason. But there is that looming factor of his marriage, and he’s your employer. Sort of.

“You know why. I won’t be the other woman. And you…”

“Tati pays you. And I’m already the other man,” you shake your head no as you look up at him, only because you don’t know what else to do. He has this weird ability to make you dumb and wordless. Barely able to shake your head no because your body is quaking for his touch. But not the touch on your cheek. You wanted him all over you. “And if you continue with Jax, I’ll still be the other man,” he closes the gap between the two of you as he slots his lips against yours.

Overcome with pent up tension, you melt in his embrace. Ignoring the simple legal fact that is keeping you away from him. Refusing to acknowledge where you had been this evening, and how oddly uneventful it was. A peck on the cheek was all you got, and you didn’t want more, only just wanted Curtis to see it.

Wanted him to feel as shocked and jealous as you did when you learned he was married. All that passion from that first night doesn’t fizzle up to the surface it burns. The unmistakable heat of lava flows through every part of your body as you jump into his embrace. His hands scoop to the bottom of your ass cheeks, and pulls you even closer to him. The only thing separating you was lace and cotton. Your bodies heating up with unadulterated need for the other. Tilting your head to the side allowing him every bit of access to own you again.

Morals be damned. This is everything. The worst kind of sin. The kind that you know could kill your current self and be reborn as a new woman. It’s how he always makes you feel. Fighting the tension these past couple of days had been agonizing. This feels so wrong that it’s right.

His mouth nips down your neck, following a trail right down to your chest. Curtis lifts you up a bit, his right hand cups your tit and sucks your nipple into his mouth. Looking up at you with a smirk before he gives you a bit of a nibble on your hardened bud, and you decide you’re going to throw all caution to the wind. He just feels so good.

His length trembles right where you need him. You whimper out his name right before his head presses up against your chest, and he shushes you. “She’ll go back to sleep.”

You hold still for a moment. Your pulses throbbing together, and you will Poet to go back to sleep, “Dada,” it’s a cry. She wants him. “Dada?” You hear the rustling of her blankets. Almost see her standing up in her bed. Slamming her fists on the railing. “Dada.”

“We can make this quick. She’s not even crying,” you push his face back to look at him, scolding him with your eyes. “What?”

“She wants you.”

“And she’s not even crying,” you giggle because he spoke too soon. Her little cry of distress proving that it wasn’t just her talking. “Cockblocker.”

“What are you going to do with your little problem?” You tease, trying to get out of his embrace. There is no way he needs to tend to the baby. “Curtis, let me go.”

“Why? We were just getting started. I promise she’ll be okay. Where are you going?” He is such a whiner. “Grace? Don’t leave me.”

“Stop. Let me go tend to Poet,” he gives your hand a pull, and gives you an odd look, “Do you want to put your baby back to sleep with a hard on?” He doesn’t answer, just looks down into the water, and shakes his head. “Didn’t think so.”

Swimming over to the stairs, you grab a towel, to dry your top off as much as possible before slipping your shirt back on, and jogging into the house through his bedroom. Poet’s cries are getting louder. Poor baby. Her cries bringing you back to reality and just how fucked up this situation is.

Stepping into her bedroom, she smiles up at you through her crib. “You drama queen. Where are your tears, sweet girl?” She gives you a bit of a giggle, making grabby hands at you until you pick her up, holding her close to your chest, and she snuggles even closer. She loved touch. Craved to be held tightly to someone.

Curtis did say that if Poet woke up, she went back to sleep in his room, so you walk back. Rocking and walking her back and forth in his bedroom, and trying to avoid looking at him. Pacing back and forth, while you hum, and run your hand up and down her back. You shouldn’t get too attached, but who wouldn’t get attached to this angel?

Curtis goes from trying to will his hard cock away, to looking at you. You are a natural with her. Tati would never hold Poet with such tenderness. Tati seemed more like a friend of Curtis’ or the aunt that wasn’t the biggest fan of babies. Each passing day with Tati showed Curtis just how much she wasn’t invested in Poet as her baby. He wondered if there would come a day when he would wake up, and she would be gone.

But not with you. You. You hold her so close to you. Giving her little kisses to her forehead, and brushing those sweet curls that Curtis loved so much. You aren’t even noticing how Curtis’ lust from earlier is pure…love? No, not that serious. But he could see himself falling for you. He can envision a life where you are Poet’s mother, and you are just spending time with your baby.

Why is something so sweet making him so feral and hard? “Ugh,” he looks down at his quaking cock. He wants you to be her mom, and make you a mom again, “No,” he is losing his mind in this never ending cycle of having to play house. Having to go through the motions of you being Poet’s mom because Tati was off fucking someone else.

He could feel sorry for himself, but he knew in asking Tati to keep the baby, no he begged her to keep Poet, that he would be the one most responsible for her. Tati told him she didn’t want a child, so he shouldn’t be surprised. But the care that you give the baby, looking ridiculously hot with your glimmering legs, and wet bottoms, your shirt presses up against your damp skin, and you look like a goddess.

Like a siren singing an addictive song, and calling out to him. He is listening, and he can’t stop. You are gorgeous every day, but right now you’re immaculate. Angelic. Perfect. And he hates himself for wanting to keep you for him and Poet. He didn’t even know if you wanted kids, and she and him were a package deal. But he needed you. Beyond just the sex. Because what he sees right now is the most beautiful and sexy thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

He closes his eyes and imagines to the sweet song you’re singing to her, and he’s a goner. This is a need for you to stay with him and his daughter. He wouldn’t make you, but he wasn’t going to stop trying. You are perfect. This is what Poet deserved her whole life, even if it’s been less than a year. She deserved this type of mom.

How is his cock harder? “Fuck me,” he growls, wrapping his fist around the base of his length. He’s never hurt this hard in his life. He presses his head against the side of the pool, trying to breathe, but all he can think about is what all the various positions he turned you in. How he had you begging for him. He’d never met someone that was just so perfect for him.

“Curtis, are you okay?”

“No,” he answers truthfully. His mind a jumbled mess of sexual fantasy, and lifelong dreams with you. He didn’t even know you!

“What are you…” now you know that man didn’t take his cock out and grip it like that. All while you were tending to his daughter, he was tending to himself. He takes a glimpse up at you and wishes that he didn’t.

That white shirt is leaving nothing to the imagination with your nipples still hard and pressing against it. The material wet and showing everything in such a teasing and delightful way. Why did he look up? “You’re dripping,” he mumbles, hoping it’s in more ways than one. “Thank you for that, now get back in the pool?”

“I really shouldn’t,” you respond. If you get back in the pool you would let him fuck you in every which way. You couldn’t allow that. The break away from him is what you needed to center yourself, and make you think about what was really going on. He pumps himself in his fist a few times, and you groan, “Curtis!”

“Say it again, but this time whimper it,” that dumb cocky little smile is back on his mouth. He creates a steady pace, and chuckles when you look down at him. “Like what you see, Grace?”

“No,” you’re such a liar. You have thought about the way his cock made your walls stretch out every night since that first time. You forgot the tender feeling of it all. Couldn't remember the sting that you craved. Had looked on the internet for a toy that resembled his cock because you need to feel it again.

“Because you have a boyfriend?” He prods. He’s such an asshole.

”He’s not my boyfriend,” crossing your arms over your chest, you cock your hip to the side as you look down at him. He’s always been such a dominant demanding man, but right now, he’s below you, “Are you jealous?”

“I don’t get jealous,” lies. Curtis stewed the entire time that you were gone. He texted Jax every fifteen minutes with a threat. He is very jealous that you had your pretty thighs around Jax’s body, and the thoughts of Jax touching you made him furious.

”Tell your dick you’re not jealous then.”

“I can let my dick do the talking as I stab into you.”

“You’re so romantic. Did you forget your daughter is just in there sleeping in her bed. In your room?” He didn’t forget, he could almost hear Poet’s snores. He also couldn’t forget the way your brows moved as he entered you for the first time. The way your fingers clung to him just as much as your cunt.

”And you looked so pretty soothing her, and putting her to bed. It’s like you’re…her mom,” he shouldn’t have let that slip out, but he did, and he can’t take it back.

”But I’m not,” you answer flatly, starting to walk back to your room. You couldn’t see him, and hear him like that right now. You need a cold shower. You need to meditate. To breathe. To do anything but think about him.

”Grace!”

“Goodnight, Curtis!” He swears you’re walking in a way to entice him more. Your fucking lace panties cover up nothing. Your ass cheeks bounce with every step you take.

“Tease!” He yells out after you, that dumb smile back on his face.

“Whore!” You scream right back, giving him your own smile before you close the door behind you. Leaning up against your door you take a few calming breaths. He is going to be the death of you.

“Oh, she’s such a feisty one,” he grunts as he jerks himself even harder. Visions of you spread out in that stupid large kitchen. You are covered in various bits of batter from baking for the family dinner. Something tells him you’d love to be a free use little cum dump.

He pretends you’ve got a breeding kink just like him, “Curtis!” You’d scream as he grips you so tight. “Fuck a baby in me. I need another. Fuck I need to feel you growing in me. It’s my favorite thing. Daddy!”

He could work out the details later. But you’d look so pretty bent over the counter. Everyone outside by the pool, but you need to be filled up with his cum. Keeping your eyes on the door as he presses you into the counter. Your cunt squeezing him so tight. No drop of cum would ever go to waste. He is going to fill you to the brim.

”Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” He lets out a scream as he releases in the pool. His eyes look longingly at the space that separates the two of you. You are trouble for him. He just hopes he’s trouble for you, too.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jax asks as he walks into the garage, and Curtis throws a tool at him. “You missed me, daddy.”

”I hate you.”

“If that wrench is broken, it’s coming out of your paycheck,” he takes a seat in a stool, and leans back on the wall staring. Just staring. Nothing else. “So…how was your weekend?”

Curtis turns back to the car in front of him. Ignoring his best friend that is trying to get him riled up. It isn’t going to work. The two of you kissed again. And you even came over to the main house on your day off. Made him and Poet breakfast. But that kiss…it wasn’t just a kiss. It was everything.

“I took this sweet little honey on a date. There’s something about having a girl on the back of a bike. The rumble of the engine roaring right at her pussy. You can feel the heat coming off her, knowing how much she needs to be bent over the motorcycle and fucked so hard. And she leaves a trail of your cum on the seat.”

”SHUT UP!”

“Oh oh!” Jax starts cackling, standing up to walk over to Curtis, leaning right in his ear, “Giving it to her so good that she starts going crossed eyed and dumb, can barely mumble out your name, so it just comes out as ‘fuck me harder, daddy.’”

Jax is trying to get to him, and it’s almost working, except he didn’t touch you. “It was a tight little pussy. She said she never had anything bigger.”

“Bigger than your lips on her cheek?”

“What?”

“Believe it or not, but Grace and I do talk. You just want to piss me off. How did her cheek taste?” He gives Jax a knowing smile as he turns back to the engine in front of him.

“Man, do you actually think I would have touched her? Even if I wanted to, your incessant texting and voice notes that are all of you telling me how my body was going to go missing, or it was Poet. Using the baby. Just who are you?”

Curtis hates that Jax is right, he had to stop using Poet to get to you. But she adored you. Is it the same thing? “So, do I call her and take her on a date or not?”

“No.”

“One syllable. I love when you turn into a cave man. Anything else to add? Maybe the fact that you’re going to ask her?”

“I can’t,” Jax shrugs his shoulders, asking why as Curtis stands up. Reaching for a grease rag, he wipes his filthy hands off, and walks to grab a bottle of water. “She’s hung up on the fact I’m married. I’m hung up on the fact I’m obsessed with the girl. We live together, and we don’t. We’re playing the roles of mom and dad, but we’re not. Poet loves her, but not her mom. You see the complications?”

“Divorce Tati. Put her in your apartment, and then let her be the babysitter instead of the nanny,” it isn’t the worst idea. But could it ever be that simple?

“You are acting like this is easy. She came home from her date with you, and we…”

“Fucked.”

“NO! We…we heavily made out, and I got to touch her, and then Poet woke up. And…Jax, she looked beautiful with my daughter. It’s like she belongs there, and I could see her in this smaller, but nice home with our kids, and I don’t really know her, and things got more complicated than they ever should have been. I keep seeing her with our kids, and it sounds dumb,” Jax nods his head, but doesn’t laugh. Curtis is too good of a friend to make light of this situation.

“I hate it for you buddy. All the while, you’re getting blue balls.”

“Sex with her was amazing as strangers. The best I ever had, and I keep thinking sex with her as someone I know is going to blow us both away and that’s why we keep getting interrupted,” the idea of not just fucking you, but actually making love with you with nothing separating the two of you. Just wet skin on wet skin. When desire meets something deeper, closer to love. The idea terrifies him in a way.

“Then can I offer some advice?” Curtis nods his head quickly. He needed any advice he could get. “Keep taking cold showers, and ride this out slowly. If you hurt her, she’ll leave. Poet is getting attached, so if you want someone, she’s already in big time with your baby. Tati needs to be pushed for the divorce. It’s time she quits using you and her child as a reason to show her parents she’s not a raging slut.”

“She’s not a slut,” Tati is a lot of things, but a slut isn’t one of them. But why did she get to have a life outside of the marriage, and he didn’t? Why is her life able to move on without complications, while his is a mess?

“Fine, but enough with the excuses. Real people are involved. And the longer you and Tati stay married, the longer your Grace is going to have a reason to not trust you. Lose the wife. Make the nanny fall in love with you by just being your charming brooding self. No sex.”

Curtis hates when Jax makes sense, but in this case, he does. Too much sense. Ugh…he didn’t want to wait. But some things are worth the wait.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @slowdownbeforeyouregretit

[ramen-writes]

Goofy Villian Dialogue Prompts because we stan Megamind

"It's not MY fault that the law contradicts my passion!"

"Yes, I broke into the hero's house, no I did not kill them, I just stole their diary. Now where do they mention me"

"I'm just having a BAD DAY OKAY?! MY OUTFIT DOESN'T LOOK HOW IT DID IN MY HEAD! IT LOOKS STUPID! I LOOK STUPID!"

"wait is that the injury from last time? Why did you bandage it like that? That'll do nothing, you need to learn how to bandage your injuries properly if you're going to fight me"

"WHYYYYYYYYYYYY MEEEEE!!"

"fight me, you piece of shit who I find oddly hot"

"why do your outfits look blander than astronaut food? Where's the SPICE?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE GOING ON VACATION?! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!!"

"I heard you fought another villian last week. How could you?! DO WE MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?!?"

"I'm going through a really tough time right now, OKAY!? My goldfish isn't eating!"

"die die die! WHY AREN'T YOU DYING?!"

"omg don't actually die! What am I supposed to do if you die?? You know I have no other job than this"

"honestly I was in knitting class and this lady wouldn't stop being a bitch. And I would've killed her but sweet old Bethany was there so I'm taking my anger out on you. I know since you're tied up here I should go forward with my evil plan but honestly you need to know about this annoying idiot. Like sure she's 78 but that just means you have enough experience to maybe not make fun of a beginner like me? Also her apple pie tastes bland, it reminds me of your outfits. But you get me right? ....oh you escaped"

"I am your father.....ha just kidding"

"No I DO NOT have a crush on the hero. And those posters are so I can look angrily at them when I sleep!"

"cute butt"

"Rock bottom? Pfft- no I hit that months ago I've now started digging"

"Jeez can you really not just destroy my machines a little gentler? I'm not rich"

"Even when we were kids I always beat your ass"

"I didn't do it, I promise" "oh yeah? Then why are you laughing" "because whoever did it is a fucking genius"

"hey do you think we can reschedule our fight for next Tuesday? Someone else is tryna kill me and I have to deal with it"

"urgh you're so horrible and have no morals" "hmm I love it when you compliment me like that"

[blushblushbear]

How do you think the immortal guys react to realizing that their S/O is mortal?

dead ass had to back it up and remind myself who all is immortal lol XD

So I think it's safe to say all of them would try and find a work around the moment they realized

I think all of them had the same or a similar thought process of 'heh, my little mortal s/o is so cute. mortals are so silly! ........................SHIT.'

Stirling: doesn't panic but he is still taken a back a bit. realization sucker punched him out of no where. I feel like he'd spend the next month or two calling in favors and thumbing through spellbooks. He wouldn't tell you he's doing it though. He'd play it cool, then surprise you with it one day and would not take no for an answer. 'I got you a potion to turn you immortal, drink up darling'

yes I know he is a vampire and could turn you into a vampire too. Yes you will have to point that out to him as an option. yes he will feel stupid he forgot about that.

In his defense, he spent so long thinking of you as a snack in one way or another, it probably never even crossed his mind to change the dynamic

Seth: also does not panic, but is like '*narrows eyes* Satan damn it.' Probably goes through a few options like Stirling but ultimately ends up doing some form of spell or curse or blessing--- whichever he could make happen on his own or could get someone to do for him without having to owe them one. (that's a big owe and he can find other ways thanks)

Full on does not tell you he's going to do it, he's trying to do it, or when he's done it. He might not even tell you for a while. He also wants it to be a surprise but like--- a funny one. Make the moment memorable ya know?

He'd either wait till you've noticed yourself or wait till you find out the hard way. He's very proud of himself for pulling this off though. You should totally pay him back! How about starting with a kiss??

Reece: is Reece immortal?? eh, he's close enough. Reece would realize it randomly one day, probably while pointing out 'you are only human' or something like that-- then launch into quirky nerdy panic cause FUCK YOU'RE HUMAN! YOU GUYS DIE LIKE-- ALL THE TIME! OH. NO.

Also ends up digging through files/books and looking into favors but does it in a sci-fi way. It probably ends with you getting some kind of sci-fi device that's basically magic that stops time but only for you. Like a pocket watch that halts your aging and therefore your dying so long as you wear it. It's a little like a wedding ring the way he presents it.

Unlike the other two though, he really does make it a choice. And it's a choice you can back out of for any reason if you need to. (well slowly of course)

or pass it down! ....or sell it if you must. No need to waste a perfectly good age defying magic space pocket watch!

so I'm gonna say now I think all the Kitsune guys pry/ask/demand/make a deal with the gods to give you immortality. They need to be careful they don't accidentally turn you into something not human that you really don't want to be and also have to remember to include not aging in the deal, but I will say I think somehow they make it happen! I also feel like they all end up at 3 different gods who handle it somewhat differently. Also the blessing has a physical form that you have to accept. No gods will be forcing immortality on you today! As for some finer details...

Aki: when he realizes it he panics. Aki joins Reece in the panics about it crew. A LIFE TIME WITHOUT HIS BUNNY??? HAVING TO WATCH THEM GROW OLD AND DIE?! Okay the old part is fine BUT NOT THE DYING PART! I think Aki's god is a goddess who he pleads so sincerely and dramatically (this boy is big anime crying-- ghibli tears and heaving sobs) He even offers to give up all jokes and pranks in exchange for the blessing. The goddess can't help but be won over by his earnestness. She agrees to the blessing so long as he loves and treasures his Bunny with this same level of sincerity every day.

Honestly things go really well for Aki lol!

I think the blessing takes the form of a candy! Yum!

Haru: I think Haru tries to deny his panic. He's cool on the outside, if maybe a little bothered, but it continues to eat away at him deeply. He's never had to contemplate moving on from a real relationship cause he's low key never really had one. He's been dumped before (hard to believe I know) but he never really cared and got over it pretty quickly.

But what happens to him when he actually has to move on from the one person he could never imagine moving on from? What happens when you're gone?? I think at one point he did consider 'oh I'll find a way to move on, I'm me', but the more he thought it over and the more he looked at you and realized you wouldn't be there someday, the more he realized that not only might he not actually be able to; he really doesn't want to.

He ends up telling you all this--- I think for a while he was going to just disappear for a bit with little notice and just-- hopefully come back with this blessing from you, but I think he didn't want to leave you on a lurch. He wants you to know what he's doing, he wants you to be part of this, this is YOUR future together, and he wants to make sure it's what you really want. That HE'S what you really want.

If you agree to spend this eternity with him, I think he ends up off in the spirit realm, full on questing for a god who'd be willing to do this for him. I think he ends up with an elder god of the forest who is well aware of who Haru is and isn't buying it. 'Immortality can be as much of a curse as it is a blessing-- and you wish me to put that burden upon some poor innocent simply because the player does not wish to loose his play thing??'

It takes a lot of convincing before the god even considers Haru's legitimately this committed. Eventually the god caves on one condition-- if he ever were to kiss or lay with another, his lover with loss their immortality.

'Better they are allowed to move on, then to live with having to be forsaken by the likes of you...'

basically he puts the ball in Haru's court, and he plans to run with it straight back to you.

I think the blessing takes form of a blossom you must eat!

Fuyu: He is actually another member of the panic squad. Although it's less comedic and more like an attack.

He has a panic attack about it is what I'm saying.

I think he blazes off onto a trail (he leaves a note 'Back soon. Love you. Fuyu <3') and straight to an ancient powerful mountain god that he knows takes refuge at the snowy top of the tallest mountain. I think he's initial pitch is a mix of plea and demand.

'GODS OF THE HEAVENS! MAKE MY LOVE IMMORTAL!'

It doesn't go down smooth at first.

'What business does a beast such as you have in shouting your demands to the heavens?' a voice booms back.

Fuyu is taken aback, both because the god is frightful but also because in his heated haste, he didn't realize how shouty he was being.

He drops to his knees, forehead to the snow covered ground as he asks again more humbly.

'Please-- I beg of you. My wretched loneliness has finally been broken-- I do not wish to ever know the sting of that curse again!'

The god turns to him, a bit more curious,

'do you really think a day of sunshine will melt the snow atop the mountain?? Or that a few months of peace will wash the blood from your hands??'

He doesn't know how to respond to that. Fuyu has spent a while making a mends, but the mountain god is right. How was he ever to truly make amends... If he is a changed man-- how does he show it??

'What must I do?' He asks, peaking shyly up from the snow. The mountain god sighs, and thinks on it a while. Fuyu is practically buried in the building snow when the booming voice finally replies.

'Such a blessing requires absolute change... only that would be worth such a gift... Here, Fox-- take this to your love,' an envelope of tea and a small dagger fall from the heavens and lands before Fuyu, 'Have them drink the tea of the heavens, and know this-- If ever draw a drop of blood from another again-- they will die.'

When he journey's back down, Fuyu finds you waiting for him. He doesn't fully realize how long he's been gone-- he kind of flew off in a hurry. He tells you of his journey, his goal, the blessing he has returned with. He actually doesn't even know if you'll accept it. If you do, be makes you the best cup of tea you've ever tasted-- the wax seal opened by his new blade, which immediately sheathed, and hidden deep away.

He is a changed man-- and he intends to stay that way. ...Especially now that your life depends on it...

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter two

[ chapter one ] [ masterlist ] "...but i know they love each other. that should be enough, yeah?" richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn chapter two, 3.2k words

five days later, you take the elevator down from your apartment and richie is there. by your building, in your spot, standing with his hands deep in the pockets of his big leather jacket, not even smoking.

when you walk towards him, he looks up at you through the glass of the double doors. he doesn’t even have the couth to look down, or away, or nod—to do anything that would modulate the feeling of his blue eyes resting on you for the whole time it takes you to reach him. for that unnerving behavior, he gets no courtesy, not even a scrap of hello. 

you look like the world’s most obvious drug dealer, you say.

he smiles a little at that. you cannot be held responsible for what your body does then, the wash of wanting that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the deepening crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. 

takes one to know one, right? he says.

i’m not—

i know, he says, too quickly, as if he’s startled that you’re startled too. it was just a joke.

it might not have been wholly a joke, but you can’t tell. you don’t dare ask him why he’s here either, cause he might answer and get what he wants from you and leave. so you head straight for an old standby, something that always used to work with the other one: nicotine and arguments.

you all smoked out? you say. it’s as near to invitation as you’re going to get.

he shrugs, but he can’t quite manage to look completely indifferent. hit me.

you hand him a cigarette before lighting up your own. he looks utterly disgusted. 

this a fuckin menthol? he says, and the cadence is familiar. exactly what you wanted. you have to smother a smile hard to stop it from escaping.

why, you say, playing the innocent. you got a problem with that?

you knew he would hate it. that’s exactly why you did him the courtesy. it’s just that easy: he pulls a stupid face, you start, look, and you’re off to the races.

he talks shit and so do you and it’s comfortable. it’s so stupid comfortable and lazy and easy until he says in passing, it’s like mikey always says, and you have to stop him before he reaches the end of that sentence. you have to.

you say, mikey’s dead, right?

there’s that family echo in richie’s face. he’s not carmy, lost that quality of innocence, but he too has this trick of looking like you’ve just slapped him out of the blue. mikey’s dead, yeah, but richie can’t say it.

so then why are you digging him up, huh? you say, and it’s all michael, every last syllable of it: the michael you hated most and were never gonna quit, the warm, all-knowing, bullying, fundamentally loving little piece of shit. 

it’s got to be michael that comes out of your mouth, cause if it isn’t him, then it’s gonna be you. and if it’s you saying what you really wanna say, you’re gonna say that you’re sorry, because you are, you really are, so fucking sorry. 

it’s michael who comes out of your mouth, and then you shut it, final.

yeah, richie says after a second, and then he looks away, fumbling in his pocket for the lighter so he can smoke the much-loathed menthol. yeah.

somewhere far-off, there’s a siren. it's somebody else���s turn to save a life now, or somebody else who needs help bad, not you. but you won’t let him go.

you get out your own lighter, realize your mistake too late. he must see the smudge of blood on your wrist, just above where the glove stopped, but he says nothing. lets you cup your hands to shield his cigarette from the wind, perilously close to his face. lets you light it with one click. 

there’s a crumb of something stuck just above his eyelid, just below his eyebrow, one brown speck easily lost in the . 

you force the words past the lump in your throat. who gives a shit about daley anyway, is what i’m saying.

like an old horse who knows the way home even in the dark, he picks up the thread of your conversation and argues back even though you both know that neither of you really give a shit.

see, this is how i know you’re not chicago born and raised…

time is a hand dragging you away, and you just keep arguing past it. no victory in it, no defeat. just a holding pattern, you and richie, no more smoke and absolutely no sense, until finally you’re so restless and cold that he does actually start to piss you off. 

how’d you get to arguing about tourism and local politics, of all things, when you don’t care about either? what is it that sets you off? maybe this is why michael didn’t want you meeting his people—you take things too personally sometimes, you get irritated and lose your sense of humor, which would be an embarrassment if you weren’t too irritated to care. or you can’t take losing, which given your entire life is a very unfortunate trait. or maybe richie was just put on this earth to be maximally annoying to you specifically. 

god but he makes a kid of you when he hits sweetheart on a syrupy note of condescension, sends you stomping away to the doors with a you’re such a fucking man.

thank you! he yells after you. 

weirdly, the next morning, there's still annoyance at him, but there's nothing else. none of the biggies, no hangover of loss, no dark movement of fish swimming under ice. which is nice, for once, if puzzling. why doesn’t it hurt?

.

.

.

tonight, you need michael. you’ve needed him more often than ever since he died, possibly because he died, which is fucking inconvenient.

tonight you also you earn your pay and then some. you don’t like making house calls, but for old caruso you would willingly drive for six hours hours, do three back-to-back surgeries, and drive all the way back home. luckily, tonight’s requirements are not so ludicrous: just save a life that, well.

he should be dead, old caruso says to you by the kid’s bedside, once the work is all over. the kid is twenty-eight and you are only thirty-three, but he is a kid and he will forever be a kid, thus the attempted robbery, thus the manslaughters and the whimpering and the hole in his gut. thus you sitting quietly on a plastic-covered chair while old caruso’s daughter in law hands you a cup of weak, honey-colored tea, and the confession from the father that the son does not deserve to live, right in front of the son’s wife.

you’re not paid to receive this type of confession, and you don’t want the intimacy. sure, you get along with old caruso as much as you can get along with anybody who blackmails you into putting your life at increasing risk, which is a lot—but, in the end, to know people is to like them, and to like the wrong person is to fuck yourself with a thoroughness that is not only ruinous, but worse, exhausting. you’ve had enough of that.

you look down at little caruso’s abnormally pale face. even unconscious, there is a hint of pain in it. he has none of his father’s features, but that same long face, which tends to give the wearer a comical aspect right up until the moment it is terrifying. he’s the last of his brothers left on this side of the bars, and given the way things have been going lately, you doubt that’ll last much longer.

you say, as long as he doesn’t come down with an infection, he’ll live.

the old man regards you with a hint of surprise. perhaps, surrounded as he so often is with women of only his own family, he’s unused to women rebuffing his attempts to use them as emotional trash bags, in which he can put unpleasant thoughts, then tie them up safely so the smell of rot doesn’t permeate his house.

i like you, chao, he says, unexpectedly. then he puts on his reading glasses and reaches for a book on the stack by the bedside. it is only then that you realize that this is not only your thanks for the night, but also a dismissal. 

the car is a beautiful car, sleek and black and near-perfect in silence as it glides through chicago. it is a car meant to carry the likes of old caruso, not you. the driver must know this, because he swears at the gps once when it suggests a left turn he doesn’t approve of, and nobody swears around old caruso unless they’re family.

it’s only when you store up this one detail that you realize: there is nobody to tell. a full story, life saved, father loving and hating, weak tea, cursing driver. but there is no one left. 

you let your head rest against the cool glass of the window, close your eyes. 

no one left. fucking inconvenient.

.

.

.

you walk the last couple blocks to get your head right, only to find that richie is waiting there. 

it makes sense, right—the beginning of your on-call night shift dovetails with the end of his, and your building isn't far from the beef. the schedules work out and just. there he is.

you shouldn’t be surprised, so why do you go still and quiet, why do you watch him tilt his head up, exhale smoke, and peer beyond it? why do you try to see what he’s looking at? it’s another apartment building, that’s all, just another one of those that’s too boring to even be ugly. he exhales so slow. he doesn’t notice you for a while. you feel like you’re watching him look at another woman. 

when he does, you refuse to look down or away, refuse to nod at him, the same way he did to you last time. somebody’s gotta make the first move, and it’s not gonna be you. 

except, at some point, you break.

what’s up, you say. can’t really help it. you’re surrounded by macho bullshit every day, and it’s the sort of thing that rubs off on a person. 

i’m gonna fix you, richie says.

the laugh tears out of you, incredulous and loud and real. just when you think nothing’s funny anymore, along comes this motherfucker. it just about bowls you over, the idea of anyone fixing you, like a tsunami in the river or a sudden suspension of gravity, a constellation of pink elephants. 

the way richie laughs, he’s in on the joke for sure. richie was never supposed to know you existed, but you always knew better than to expect michael to keep the secret of you to himself, especially from richie. men, you think, but it’s not angry. this part is convenient, that he knows what a wreck you are. you won’t have to explain it. you can’t help but notice: he came anyway. for that, you’ll let him laugh at you and then some. for that, you’ll let him do near anything he wants.

good fucking luck, you finally manage to say, laughter still coming out the edges of every word, near breathless with it.

richie throws something at you that you catch one-handed. it’s a small box. 

we gotta get you off the menthols, is what i’m saying. you can taste in his voice that he’s pleased with himself for the laugh, and you look down at the box with your smile still warming your face, and then.

it’s a pack of sapphires, cause of course it is. you can’t remember which of them taught the other one to smoke. maybe they had their first together.

so now tonight’s gonna taste like michael, is that it? maybe you should be grateful for the warning.

you piss me off, you murmur, still looking at the box in your hand.

really? he says.

fuck it. you open the box. nah.

this time, he lights it up for you. there is no wind and still he cups the cigarette, care as a habit even when it’s no longer necessary. his nails are dirty, his hands are precise, and you’re grateful for the second warning that comes along, the glint of gold on his ring finger. it didn’t come a moment too soon. 

so how’s your night, richie says. 

you exhale slow. through the smoke, you can see michael watching you. he was always better at rules than you were: don’t go to the beef, don’t meet with his friends, don’t make shit complicated. you always believed in the rules, you really did, which is maybe why you waited till he was dead to start breaking them.

in other words, it’s too late when you say, so fucking boring. it’s too late, but you lie anyways. just bone-crushing, neverending boredom. what about you?

he shakes his head, leans against the building. all this new stuff carmy’s dragging in, man. it’s a pain in my ass. swear to god, sometimes it’s like he’s aiming directly for my head.

yeah? he glances over quick, but you still catch the surprise. guess you said it too close to gentle. you say, i mean, i’m sure you deserve it.

reassured, he picks up again. if you could see the fuckin mess he’s made of our…

you lean back against the building beside him, listening. actually listening. maybe you’re a trash bag and maybe you don’t care, cause you don’t want to go up to your empty apartment and now you don’t have to. when he loses steam on the rant, you pass him your cigarette. when he picks up a new rant, you take the cigarette back. eventually, you both meander onto the subject of past concerts you’ve been to, which are never the same, and it’s like talking about nothing at all.

the two of you are still going when your phone rings half an hour later—little caruso is awake earlier than you expected, something’s off with the pain meds, you need to go—but he gets in a few jabs before you leave, mostly on the subject of your blue nokia burner phone, which cost you twenty bucks and actually flips open and closed. you drive a horse and buggy too?

what can i say, i’m cheap. hey, if you keep hanging around, maybe it’ll keep down the rent, you say. it’s the most invitation he’s ever gonna get, and you’re almost nervous to hear the answer.

urban uglification, richie says. 

you’re awash in relief. fucking exactly. 

you don’t say see you later, because you know you don’t have to.

.

.

.

so i’m freezing my balls off, crouching behind this sculpture, trying to keep all these kids in their hiding spots. by now most of them want to bail. i mean, these aren’t even high schoolers, they’re fuckin middle schoolers, right? the sun’s basically set and it’s getting dark, so they’re getting anxious, i’m getting anxious, everyone’s anxious. so me, i start telling them the plot of die hard just to keep them from leaving. i kid you not, j, half these kids have never seen die hard in their lives. 

michael looks at you, all animated and incredulous, gesturing wide with the hand that’s not holding yours. you’re in bed, naked in the summer heat, sitting face to face and cross-legged because he got so excited about this story he just had to sit up, and it felt weird for you to be lying there while he wasn’t.

never seen die hard even once, he says.

you shake your head, indulging him. it’s a fucking classic.

a classic, he echoes with satisfaction. so anyway, i’m at the part where gruber is about to kill mcclane, right near the end, and i’ve got like thirty middle schoolers eating from the palm of my hand. out of the corner of my eye, i see richie and tiff coming down the path, fuckin finally. 

he’s so excited, it’s like he’s seeing the two of them for the first time. the man could power an entire factory with that smile. one of your hands is empty, so you hold onto his ankle, just because you can.

it’s pretty dark and the lights in the park aren’t great, but it’s definitely a couple, the woman’s blonde, and i’m like oh shit. game time. let’s go. we jump out, start singing. i’ve got the marry me sign, whip it out. and this woman screams, i mean screams. 

poor tiff, you say, in real sympathy. you would've hated all this.

see, but that is not tiff, michael says. that is a total fucking rando that we just surprised for no reason at all. 

you bust out laughing. from the cadence of his storytelling alone, you know it’s too early to laugh, but you can’t help it. michael’s all lit up like a christmas tree. he keeps going.

she’s screaming bloody murder, so of course my kids stop singing and a couple of them scream too, just to join in on the action i guess. the man, the guy that’s with her, he’s wearing a north face jacket. and you know what he does?

he calls the cops.

he points at you with his free hand. calls the cops. ten minutes later, cops show up, they call all the parents, it’s a mess. i am up to my neck in shit. it takes me like an hour to convince everyone that this is not the world’s stupidest human trafficking ring, and another hour to convince them that they don’t really want to throw me in jail for disturbing the peace. when it’s all over and the kids are safely heading home, i finally get richie on the phone and i’m like, where were you, man. what happened?

he chickened out, you guess.

see, i wasn’t even thinking that, i was thinking that tiff found out ahead of time, like sugar spilled the beans or something and she turned him down before he could even propose. i was all set to fish him out of bottle before he drowned in it. but you know what richie says? you know what he says to me?

what?

i forgot. he throws his head back, lets out great big generous peals of laughter. this wet motherfucker! ‘i forgot.’

it takes a while for michael to stop laughing, mostly cause somewhere during the middle of the comedown, he lets out a weird little snort that sets you off. but eventually, he goes back to his story, sated.

he goes, it wouldn’t have been right. like, what do you mean it wouldn’t have been right?  a choir singing her favorite song, at sunset, you’re gonna ask her to marry you, i hand painted this fuckin sign, we’ve been planning this for like a month now, what could be wrong with that? he’s like, i just knew. i knew when we were going down the elevator that the speech i wrote was all wrong and i was gonna have to say some things i couldn’t say in front of a bunch of middle schoolers. 

he’s shaking his head now.

so he proposed to her, i kid you not, in the elevator. he said whatever he was gonna say—he never told me what it was—and he went down on one knee, and that was it. by the time they hit the bottom floor, they rode it right back up, went back to her apartment, and i’m pretty sure that when i was trying to argue my way out of handcuffs, the two of them were sound asleep, all tired out from fucking like rabbits on speed. un-fucking-believable.

he’s so happy for richie, it shines out of him.

it’s a good thing it was only a phone call, cause i would’ve beat his ass. i’ve had forty-three chicago winters at this point, and that is the closest i’ve ever come to getting frostbite. hand to god, sometimes i think i still can’t feel the tips of my ears. 

yeah? can you feel that? you trace the shell of his ear with one delicate fingertip. you’d make it prelude to a kiss, but you sense a faint shadow crossing over his face now, some darker thought about to rear its head. so you leave it at that, stay watchful.

he tips his forehead forward till its resting on yours. it’s so crazy, he says, like a sigh. 

you cup his cheek in your hand. it’s a great story.

i mean, all that, and they still broke up.

aw, not the end of love. you didn’t want this. comfort’s not one of your strengths, but since there’s no one else around to do it, you play the optimist as best as you can. maybe they’ll get back together. 

i mean, i hope so, he says, though not very hopefully. he thinks for a little while, and then he says, i don’t know why she…i mean he’s a good guy, you know?  

his dark eyes flick up to yours. at such close quarters, it feels like a lot, but it’s an invitation and not an attack. you take it, carefully, but you take it. 

he says, richie’s a good guy, and he loves her. sure, she divorced him, but i know they love each other. that should be enough, yeah? 

he says it directly to you like he’s presenting an appeal, as though either of you are capable of fixing somebody else’s broken life.

i know, you say. you kiss him now, because there is nothing else to say. 

there isn’t much you put your heart in these days, but you put it into this kiss, long and slow, and then you crawl into his lap, bury your fingers in his thick hair, and do it all over again. his hands spread warmth as they slide up your back. by the end of the night, your mouth will be sensitive and tender from his stubble, but he’s smiling into the kiss and it’s worth it. 

he’s not wrong. it should be enough.

.

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[ chapter three ] [ masterlist ]

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@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1 — if anyone else wants a tag, let me know.

[whore4batfam]

edited an old piece:

“Do you think he regrets it?”

“Regrets what?” He was impatient. He had told the kid he could stay if he was quiet, and here he was, again, asking stupid ques—

“Taking us in.”

Dick shifted, switching the position of his arms behind his head. He looked up at the stars and sighed. “What’s there to regret, Jay.”

A small head popped up. “I didn’t say you could call me Jay,” Jason reminded, jaw jutting out. He probably thought he looked tough that way.

“And I didn’t say you could call me Dickhead, but here we are,” Dick shot back. “Sit down.”

Jason opened his mouth, but closed it when Dick narrowed his eyes at him. He laid back down and pointedly didn’t touch him. Fine. Kid might as well stay on his good side.

“…But do you think so?”

Dick sighed again. “Shit, kid.” The sky was clear enough tonight to see the stars twinkle. He cleared his throat. “He wouldn’t regret it for you. He went through with it, adopted you and everything. I know he seems like a moron sometimes—”

“He isn’t.”

“—but he does think things through.” Over and over and over, poking holes in Dick’s choices until he was left feeling like he was three inches tall. “He doesn’t regret you.”

Silence.

“And you?”

His voice was small, like he was unsure if he should be asking. Dick wanted to make a joke, tease him, but he couldn’t even look at him.

“Well, we’ll have to see,” was all he said.

Jury was still out for Dick, in Bruce’s case. He remembered thinking that would never be so, that Bruce could never be without him. He was his compass. Batman needed a Robin, but Bruce needed Dickie. He remembered how mad he got when Dr. Thompkins would lean over to look him right in the eyes and say, “He takes care of you.”

How could she understand? How could she think that she knew what it was like, what Bruce was like? That they were meant to be together no matter what, even if that meant—meant—

Dick shifted, pulling further away from Jason. Couldn’t stand the damn way the kid breathed.

“I think that,” and Jason sat up and swallowed, “you should come back. Talk to Alfred more. Bruce…he misses you.”

Dick stared at him. “Real sacrificial admitting that, huh.”

The boy jerked as if Dick had slapped him. Then he narrowed his eyes, looking all the world his twelve years, and kicked him. Dick didn’t bother moving away. “You’re an asshole.”

Dick scoffed. “I’m just saying it took a lot outta you. What you afraid of, me actually getting along with my own family?”

Jason shot up his feet. “I’m not holding my breath, you piece of shit,” he spat. He stomped over to the ladder and threw himself over it. “And neither is Bruce.”

Dick sat up. “Hey,” he barked. “You don’t understand that, you don’t understand anything—damnit, wait!” He scrambled to his feet. “You can’t go home by yourself!”

“Try me!”

“Jay, stop!”

“Don’t call me Jay!”

“You’re so dramatic,” Dick grumbled, following him down the ladder. He didn’t even react when the brat used his position to kick him in the ass either, which was very mature of him. He jumped the last few rungs, spinning around and collaring the kid when he tried to run. “Hey.”

“Fuck off,” Jason growled. But his eyes kept flickering left and right, as if waiting for something. Dick knew he was trying to act like he wasn’t intimidated. Kids are all alike in that way. But Jason betrayed himself in how he tried to escape. There was no cool disengagement, just nails digging into skin.

Dick knew the feeling. Someone bigger than you with their hands around you? All reason left until reality remained: being a small and cornered animal.

Dick avoided his swings, waiting until he was tired enough to slow his roll. It took a surprisingly long time. When Jason gulped in a breath, he latched his hands around his shoulders and dragged him close.

The kid stiffened, feet dragging as if he was afraid. So what if he was?

Dick shoved the guilt aside. “Listen to me,” he said firmly. “He may regret taking me in, and you may have replaced me, but that means all the jobs I did are yours now. You take care of him. Got it?”

Jason stared at him.

Dick shook him. “Got it? Say it out loud.” He shook him again. “Say it.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Jason said quickly, trying to hide the strain in his voice.

Dick released him. Well, more like shoved him. “Okay.” His throat was tight.

Jason kept staring at him, eyes glimmering like they were stars themselves. Which probably meant that he had made him cry, but. Well.

“Good,” Dick said, as if that was the end of it. And it was. It was an agreement. Maybe not an agreement between brothers, but certainly an agreement between sons. He jerked his head down to his apartment. “Go.”

Jason went, clattering and making a mess of things to make up for showing fear. Dick heard a crash and didn’t bother shouting. Dr. Thompkins’ eyes floated over the horizon, bouncing off the city lights.

“Remember. He takes care of you.”

Dick swallowed. Yeah, right.

[thegreymoon]

I am really not the target demographic for Red, White and Royal Blue and honestly, the entire premise sounds dumb af from where I'm sitting, but all the gifs that crossed my dash looked hilarious and that main actor is beyond gorgeous, so I am going to give it a shot tonight. My expectations are so low, that unless this movie gets a shovel and starts digging, there is no chance it cannot exceed them. I am so ready to eat my words, just give me some pretty people, mindless fluff and basic comedy and I will be happy, I swear!

***

TWO FUCKING HOURS?

You guys, I'm going to be honest here, I don't think I have it in me to sit through this 😭😭

***

LOL, only a younger brother 🤣🤣 They did not have the guts to go all in and make him the heir to the throne.

Also, lol @ "Prince of England's hearts" but even more so at "whom all the world adores" 🤣🤣 I cannot. I am absolutely not the target demographic for this and I don't think I have it in me to just go along with this, fictional British royal family or not. Who speaks like this? Who even believes it?

Anyway. Abolish the monarchy, Guillotine them all. Long live the glorious revolution!

***

LMFAO 🤣🤣

Well, at least he looks equally disgusted.

If we can't off the royal family, how about we just off this news announcer? Because I am getting so much second-hand embarrassment.

***

LMAO, OK, he gets ONE point 🤣🤣

OK, fine, two points, because he is stupid beautiful and the reason I sat down to watch this in the first place 😤

***

Yassss, girlfriend has great taste!

I'm two minutes in and so far, she's my favourite. I would totally watch a two-hour movie of her touring London and giving commentary on the yumminess of various guys she encounters.

***

LMAO, is he going to get hammered and smash the obscene 75-thousand-pound cake? 🤣🤣

Because why else would they mention that price point and also show the cake in all its humongous 8-tier glory 🤣🤣

Here for the diplomatic incident, ngl, I would totally read the shit out of that in the tabloids the next day 🤣🤣

***

NOOOOO, THE CAKE IS RIGHT BEHIND THEM!

THEY WILL TOTALLY TOPPLE THAT CAKE!

***

Okay, I am laughing 🤣🤣

***

SCREAMING 🤣🤣

I saw it coming from a mile away, but goddamn, it DELIVERED! 🤣🤣

***

I can't stop laughing 🤣🤣

Watching this was such a good decision 🤣🤣

***

LOL, if this was a real-life event, I would spend a week gleefully reblogging it on Tumblr, no lie 🤣🤣

Also, it is a 9-TIER CAKE, not 8 🤣🤣 The more, the messier!

***

LMFAO 🤣🤣

Also, OMG! Uma Thurman! 😍 It's been a hundred years since I watched her in anything!

***

"Sunshine of my heart" 🤣🤣

This movie is hilarious 🤣🤣

***

Wait, Sarah Shahi??

I loved her in Life! I also watched Fairly Legal for her and thought she was stunning in The L Word! I'm forever bitter we never got to see that Nancy Drew adaptation with her in the main role 😕

***

The thing that is the most difficult for me to suspend my disbelief for is the idea that these two overly privileged young men involved in their countries' respective politics are actually nice people.

I keep chanting to myself, "You are not here for realism! You are not here for realism! YOU ARE NOT HERE FOR REALISM!"

To varying levels of success 😕

***

Romantic comedies are so not my genre. And I am so not here for ex-boyfriends or whatever this guy is.

I need Alex and Henry to get back together ASAP and start smashing cakes again because I'm starting to get bored.

***

These are gutter-level jokes.

Seriously, they couldn't get more creative?

***

They have the most basic taste in literature ever. It doesn't even feel authentic, more like what a nineteen-year-old girl thinks good taste in literature should look like.

***

I feel like I am extremely uncharitable towards this movie (the cake thing was funny tho) but it is very hard to take their bland flirting, pedestrian romance and pathetic humour seriously when you're coming into this from 2ha 😕 The standards that have been set are on another planet compared to what we are being given here.

***

Please 😭

And smash another cake, otherwise I don't know how I'm going to make it through another hour-and-a-half of this 😭😭

***

The things I will watch for pretty people 😭

He truly is stupid beautiful and makes this thing infinitely more watchable every time he's on screen.

***

I'm with Henry on this one, this party is like something straight out of my worst nightmares and crushing on the tall, hot guy seems like the only tolerable thing in this whole hellscape.

***

Aww, baby, he is not having a good time.

He wants to kiss him for New Year's too!

***

LOL.

Well. That escalated 🤣🤣

***

NOOOOO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST STARING AFTER HIM?

RUN AFTER HIM AND TELL HIM IT'S OK AND THAT YOU SHOULD CONTINUE SOMEWHERE BEHIND CLOSED DOORS!!

***

And some women! 👀

She's my favourite character in this thing, lol, followed closely by Sarah Shahi and Uma Thurman. And then Prince Henry 😅

***

This guy stands no chance to the level that it's embarrassing he still keeps trying.

I almost feel sorry for him, but I kinda have the feeling that he's going to be the one to out Alex and Henry, so my sympathy is very shallow. Just know when you've lost, my man, and MOVE ON.

[seat-safety-switch]

Now that it’s the future, things are more confusing than ever. Our ancestors only had to understand a few different kinds of rocks, how to cook a bird they caught, and what sorts of plants they should not try to eat. Like I said, things are different now. Everything has become more advanced, and with it, more complex.

You might not think that things are all that different. After all, those forerunners to our glorious civilization also had to deal with plague, illiteracy, and the horrors of serfdom. Now, we only have that last one left to deal with. I think that you’ve just become used to the polynomial complexity of the modern age. Try going back to 1993 and asking your fellow Hypercolor-shirt-wearing dweebs about why your email isn’t syncing to your smartphone, but works okay on your iPad. You’ll be burned at the stake, even in moderately liberal states like Maine.

I’m all in favour of going back to simpler stuff. Stick axles. Right-angle bodywork. Carburetors. Door handles that burn your fingers because the car’s been sitting in the sun all day while you were working a double at the Kay Bee Toys. Crank windows. Heavy-weight oils that aren’t filtered very well. Bias-ply tires with no grip whatsoever, to the extent that walking on banana peels slathered with mayonnaise will make you feel like an F1 driver by comparison.

Thing is, nobody wants to make that stuff anymore. The new stuff is too good, too efficient, too safe that the automakers and the aftermarket folks have decided that no one on this Earth is stupid enough to want it. Even Chinese factories can’t be convinced to do otherwise; their electric mini-pickup-trucks may cost $2000, but they still have modern metallurgy and plastic headlights. Meanwhile, we’re crushing all this great old stuff and sending it to foreign lands in order to be turned into more boron-infused, tiny-mufflered cough drops that sometimes decide not to let me use Spotify until I break out half an undergraduate computer science degree and/or the Revenge Dremel.

That’s why I’ve decided to start re-learning everything from first principles. I just spent last week checking every book out of the library that I could find on metallurgy. While he was out (in prison,) I was going to turn my neighbour’s new chain-link fence into part of a 4x4 chassis. I had pulled a bunch of it out of the ground and started to build a crucible in which to melt the precious ill-gotten aluminum into ingots. That’s when I realized that the barbecue lighter I was using had a child-safe trigger. I had to go back and dig through the dumpster I found it in, just so I could figure out how to make flame shoot out of it. Friends: this shit has got to stop.

[mehoymalloy]

also, 26 + 28 for Silga & Untalla (could be each for both or just one abt the other, whichever you feel like)

I'm desperate for more beloved blorbo thoughts. you cursed me and now I suffer, so I must turn the blade back on you.... that sounded far more theatrical than just 'I miss them', sorry.

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

Congrats lucky winner! You get two headcanons for the price of one! As you know, I headcanon that Untalla is scared of deep water, but that also extends to cramped and enclosed spaces in a general sense. Add onto that that her stress response is basically 'stab the stressor til it stops being scary' and she will be climbing the walls trying to find a way out. Like they're going to have a reverse climbing the cliffside moment of Silga using her superior upper body strength to pull Untalla into a bear hug and just refusing to let go until Untalla manages to calm herself down (which she will manage to do relatively quickly, and then be so fucking embarrassed about it afterwards. Not to mention confused because if tight spaces bother her then why the hell doesn't being held tightly and restrained also?? Because it's a fucking hug, stupid, and you are platonically down bad specifically for Silga, it should not surprise you at this point that she's the exception for a lot of your rules.)

Silga, meanwhile, is like 'well shit' and goes into Get Shit Done mode, methodically tackling the problem until it's fixed if possible, periodically pausing to not-so-subtly check in on Untalla and giving her menial tasks to help keep her occupied and distracted.

28. How they feel about [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

THEY ARE SOME FORM OF SOULMATES, YOUR HONOR.

Silga looks up to Untalla so much; she sees her as so strong and and put-together after everything she's been through, but with that said, she loves seeing Untalla's quieter, more whimsical moments of joy when discovering or trying something new, rather that be Old World knowledge or cultural exposure to other clans.

Untalla would kill without hesitation and with a straight face for Silga. Dramatic, I know, but she takes the good old "your enemy is mine" saying that the Tenakth have so seriously it's a little scary. And even knowing Silga is a grown woman who can protect herself, after everything they went through, Untalla will always have an especially alert but not stifling protective streak for Silga. She also just plain adores the girl. She's smart and capable and a little annoying and the bestest friend she's ever had (Granted she will never say any of this, and any outward sign of these feelings is so fucking subtle, she's too stoic for any emotion that isn't anger lol).

-

And because you made me think about them, I went back digging through my Google Docs to find an old WIP. You can see how old this is based on the fact that 1) I've been using Obsidian as my primary writing program for a year now (I should really transfer all this stuff over, huh...) and 2) I used "</>" as my editing brackets, which ended up being inconvenient because TTS reads them aloud.

ANYWAY, have some hurt/comfort because I MISS THEMB NOW TOO, FUCK.

~

Untalla lied in silence, hesitantly running through half-memorized movements, looking for a specific holo she had seen. Not the stylized colors and depictions of the Ten, but real people. Silga had skimmed past it earlier while looking for something else to show her, and Untalla hadn't wanted to ask her to pause. It wasn't that important. But she wanted to see.

So once Silga had fallen asleep, Untalla had carefully picked up her Focus. Untalla had her own, so the holo was likely on there somewhere, but Silga was very meticulous about organization, and Untalla had memorized the shapes that went with familiar sounds, groupings based on category.

FARO PLAGUE

OPERATION ENDURING VICTORY

PROJECT ZERO DAWN

TEN (<insert war name>)

These were only the ones Untalla knew intimately, consumed in a heavy and silent session with Silga, both sitting up late into the night, learning to understand. Sleeping fitfully only to wake up and do it all again. 

But there was a holo in the wrong place, which Silga had played in confusion only to immediately pause and move to somewhere else, 'MISC.'

When Untalla found it, she hesitated. Then she lifted her hand that extra inch upward, watching the light move as if she physically pushed a button though she felt nothing at her fingertips. And the holo played.

<WHAT WILL THE HOLO BE?>

<WHAT WILL THE MEMORY BE?>

Untalla watched until her vision grew blurry, blinked rapidly when it disturbed her, only for something warm to trickle down her temple. It was only once Untalla realized she was crying that her breathing abruptly hitched. Her chest spasmed. Fingers shook as she abruptly reached for the Focus on her ear, her first instinct to stop it from the source rather than press one of the lights projected over her head.

But she pressed the wrong thing. As her fingers fumbled for the relic, the sound suddenly changed. What was initially a tinny little voice in her ear, suddenly became loud, filling the tiny space of their shared home. Untalla couldn't even curse herself before Silga had bolted upright, whipping her head around wildly before landing on her, startled fear immediately melting into confused concern.

"I'm sorry," Untalla gritted out as she sat up as well, still fumbling with the relic at her ear. "I wanted to shut it off but I somehow made it louder and–"

Right as Untalla resolved to rip it away and shove it into Silga's hands, Silga reached out, fingers just skimming Untalla's temple before touching something on the Focus, then the sound was back to the quiet din in her ear, and she reached out with a pathetically shaky hand to pause the holo correctly.

The silence felt stifling in a way it hadn't since Aloy first gave them these relics, since they learned everything. Untalla stared at a <something about the house or wherever (like peeling strip of wood)> as she said, "There was a holo I wanted to see. I'm sorry I used your Focus, I wasn't sure how to find it on my own." When she handed Silga the Focus, she couldn't meet her eyes.

Silga took it gently, placed it back on her bedside table before turning to Untalla again. Untalla could see her facing her in her periphery, though she kept her gaze trained away.

"You're crying," Silga whispered, and damn if the softness in her voice didn't make Untalla cry more. Untalla swiped below her eyes, scrubbing her face roughly before taking a deep breath, face still hidden in her hands. When she dropped her hands and turned her gaze on Silga—on a loose thread in her shirt. Her muttered "I'm fine" wouldn't fool <phrase.>

Untalla took another deep breath, tried to say it again, more assured, but her voice broke. "Damnit," she hissed.

Silga reached out and placed a hand on her knee. "Untalla, talk to me, please."

"It's this holo… it just…reminded me of my parents. I shouldn't have watched it."

Silga was silent for a long moment, before she asked "Do you mind if I watch it?"

"Of course not, it's your Focus."

Silga turned and abruptly lied back down. Untalla watched as her hands flew through the movements, much faster than her own. Then, she hesitated. When Untalla skirted her gaze up to Silga's she found her watching her. "Do you wanna watch it with me?"

"No." Untalla winced when her voice was too loud in the stillness—too harsh.

Then, contradicting herself, she lay back down beside Silga, scooting closer until their shoulders were almost but not quite brushing. Silga tapped something that projected all the lights again, and she apparently adjusted the sound, because when <what/whoever it is> began speaking, it was a soft drone in the night, something Untalla could almost fall asleep to. 

[yourstrulyaiko]

o𓆩♡𓆪; MY HAPPY ENDING PT.3 | HEADCANON 𓆩♡𓆪  

╰┈➤ featuring; boku no hero academia! drummer! bakugou katsuki! x lead singer! fem! reader  

જ about; Heartbreaks. Aches. Dreams shattered. You feel like there was no bridging between you and your goal as an artist. Especially since the bridge that connected you that was your ex-boyfriend, Shindo, who you met at club. Now, that you’re separated. You thought, that was it. No more. Well, you thought wrong.

જ contents and warning; profanity cause bakugou is on it, asshole bakugou, cigarettes, smoking, angst, drummer bakugou, band au, fluff, romance, drama, paparazzi, cheating, break ups, toxic relationships, getting physical (the bad kind) and many more that I have definitely missed.

જ author's note; I actually have a lots and lots of chapter about band au which needs to be revised and re-written. unedited.

LOVE ON THE BRAIN ERA

This is it!

This is your first album with the band

Technically, your debut album.

And you're writing it too while on tour.

QUEEN YOU ARE.

While, you're on a private plane. Scribbling some possible lyrics.

Mina spots you then her little nosy ass is like

"What are you doing?"

Obviously you get a little shy.

You're writing songs in your room not with other people around.

Hiding that old notebook that was barely hanging on together.

"It's just... Some lyrics... I was going to suggest another song or... Maybe an album after tour?

Everyone is excited. Love the idea!

Look at you being so productive!

But debby downer jerk fucking Bakugou has to ruin everyone's parade.

"A fucking album? We're on a world tour and that's what you're thinking of, woman? We're fucking exhausted enough."

Everyday this bitchass always have something to say

And everyday you've had enough of his bitch ass

"Well, if you want this while band to sink down. I guess, I should stop writing. I'm not here to argue with you, Bakugou. I'm here to fucking help you. Whether you fucking hate it."

GO OFF MAMA

Before he could rage again and ignite another argument.

Kirishima, Sero and Mina all gave him a warning glare.

Especially, Kirishima.

This shit was going too far.

Didn't he remember his warning?

At this point, he really have to dig deep and send the message home.

"Katsuki. Talk to me, privately." Kirishima commands.

"Well, if you got something to fucking say. Just say it now." The blonde practically barks.

"Oh, I got a lot to say. But, I'm saving you the embarrassment from everyone. So, either we talk here or privately."

NOW THATS ON FUCKING PERIODT

GO OFF

LET ME SUCK YOUR DI-

Anyways, Bakugou jumps up from his seat and grumbling along the way as he makes his way to the back of the plane.

That's when Kirishima slams him up the wall.

I know this is out character but I gotta-

"What is going on man?"

"There ain't nothing wrong with me-"

"Nothing wrong." Kirishima scoff "I told you about this. (First name) is here to stay and help. This is what we've been fucking fighting for. This is our dream. You're going to let it crash and burn? For what, some stupid fucking girl that clearly didn't care about you?"

"You don’t know shit-" Bakugou tries to shove but Kirishima overpowers him.

"I don't know shit." Kirishima mocks, "I know everything. I've seen it all with my own two eyes. I fucking know."

Bakugou was angry. Pissed even.

"I told you, we're moving forward... I hate to say this but it seems like we’re going without you.. " Kirishima pauses he calms down, "Look, I get it. You've been through a lot. But, if this is how much is affecting you. We'll have to part ways temporarily."

At this point, Bakugou's heart dropped to his stomach and his breath hitches.

Kirishima was serious about his threats

"We have to, Bakugou. We can't stay in the past. I know what happened. We know. I'm sorry. We're here for you. Right now, there are a lot of things you're through and have to unpack. Camie wasn't the best person. We're aware, now that she’s gone. This is your chance to get and ask for help. You're free now."

Kirishima gives Bakugou a firm pat on his back and he leaves.

Leaving Bakugou in his own broken thoughts.

There was about 5 hours left till you arrive in the US

Everyone was asleep at this point.

Except you, you're still revising and re-writing some of the lyrics.

The light above you was on.

It didn’t bother anyone. They were all in snooze land.

Well, except Bakugou.

He woke up because of the light.

He could never sleep with the light on

He sat up to get the eye mask then his naturally drawn into where the source of light is coming from.

It was you, your legs tucked in and you were furiously scribbling away

So deeply concentrated.

He stared for a while. Not noticing him wide awake and just watching you.

Eventually, he just left you in his own little world before falling back asleep.

FAST FORWARD

World tour has come to an end.

It was amazing!

You have never travelled this much your whole entire life,

You were so fucking excited.

Your excitement was so infectious.

Everyone (except Bakugou) all had one thought, 'How cute'

It made them smile uncontrollably.

You're always asking them to take a photo of you with the weirdest shit.

LIKE A FUCKING LAMPPOST?

GIRL-

Why not take a photo with landmark?

And you're eating something. Mina would whip out her phone,

You're showing your plate of pasta or the flower shaped ice cream.

Your whole damn camera roll is just filled with random photos of random shit. Hell you even took photos of the damn seagulls.

Ofc, there's photos of your bandmates doing random shit.

Like that one funny hat you found.

Kirishima being buried in the sand in Barcelona with some sand titties.

Denki gave him the yitties.

You and Bakugou never interacted much at all.

Actually, he avoided you at all coats.

When you are on break from rehearsals and sound checks

He gets up and leaves for a cigarette break.

He only does this with you tho.

Bakugou was speaking Bakugou with everyone else

What do I mean by that?

You know what I mean by that.

Jk, well the usual Bakugou. Calling them with some weird ass nickname and just acting the usual Bakugou

It would be for the better though instead of butting heads.

You all took a 2 weeks break.

This gave you chance to print out all the photos and keep in a photo album.

<3

Since you got paid a phat stack.

You decided to invest in a better keyboard.

Cause your current one is barely holding on

THIS IS WHEN YOU GET TO WORK.

You're a writing machine.

YOU HAVE NEVER WORKED THIS HARD YOUR WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE.

You didn't even sleep at all.

What break?

Also, you got group chat privileges now too.

Aka, you were added

Denki: Why should I not put water hot oil?

Producer Jirou: NO

Bakugou: What the fuck did you say dunce face.

Sero: Um

Denki: DON'T PUT WATER IN HOT OIL EVEN IF ITS ON FIRE!

Kirishima: I'm coming over! Get out of your apartment

Bakugou: DIDN'T YOU FUCKING LISTEN DURING SCIENCE LESSON?!

Mina: I so knew that.

There are also constant reminder too to take a break

But it seems like you're the only person who isn't taking this time to take a break.

Everyone is out having fun,

So, Sero texted that you are all going to hang out and meet them at the station.

Well, you do need it. Since you've only been writing and working for a week in your shitty apartment.

When you got to the station, everyone was there (except Bakugou)

All dressed weirdly to hide their identity cause they're more famous than you

"Hey!" Mina waves her arms wildly,

"Hey, so where are we going?"

"We're going to Bakugou's house." Sero informs you.

Oh, you're shitting yourself.

You're VERY aware this man doesn't like you.

And now you're going to his house?

You're meeting the lord savior Jesus Christ much earlier than expected.

Kirishima can sense that you're pretty nervous.

Denki is all like, "DoN't WoRrY, bAbY gIrL. i'M hErE tO pRoTeCt YoU."

Throwing his arms around you.

On the way there, you're already fucking shaking.

Walking from the train station to his house.

You're feeling sick. You want to throw up.

Now, you don't know know that this man was rich, rich.

He got a big house.

He got daddy and mommy money.

When the doorbell rang.

You're in fight or flight mode.

The person who opened it tho wasn't Bakugou.

Nope, it was a much older man.

It's his dad.

Now, you're wondering where the hell did he get his personality.

He lets you all in.

Not before making sure to shake your hand and welcome you into their home.

"Ah, you must be (First name), their new lead singer. Nice to meet you." “I’m Masaru. Katsuki’s father.”

HE'S SO FUCKING CUTE.

"Now, I've been wondering when the hell are you brats going to visit us."

Ah.

The MILF She's basically Bakugou but a hot MILF woman. Same attitude. Same appearance.

But, feminine.

She looks at over to you.

Not gonna you got nervous or hor-

"So, you're the new lead singer?"

Yes, ma'am.

Are you going to get shouted at again?

"Oh my God, aren't you so fucking pretty?" “My name is Mitsuki by the way! I’m the brat’s mother! You know the one who whacks his stick on the drum.”

She's squishing your cheeks.

She's praising you!

Fangirling.

How many of you can say that a Milf is fangirling over you?

Exactly.

No one.

She's a little too honest too.

"The song My Happy Ending? I've been playing it non-stop in the car radio and even on my headphones."

"Masaru, don't you think she's better than the previous lead singer? Who was it again?"

"When are you coming out with the album, hon? It will definitely chart better."

You definitely don't know if she's pulling on your leg or she definitely thought, you're better.

But, hey! You'll take it.

“Hey, ma.” Kirishima spoke up, “Where’s Katsuki?”

YOU CANT CONVINCE ME THAT KIRISHIMA WONT CALL MITSUKI ‘MA’ OR MASARU ‘PA’

“Said he needs to go somewhere.” Mitsuki rolls her eyes, “What? That brat didn’t tell you?”

She goes on a rant about needing to inform everyone especially if they’re coming over for dinner.

She sneaks in a little insult here and there too.

While, Mitsuki is throwing it down the kitchen. You all sat around in their sofa. Masaru is handing out some snacks and drinks.

Not gonna lie, you’re a little uncomfortable.

When, you stand up and try to help.

Mitsuki tells you to sit back down and relax

Yes mommy

Everyone was chatting away and having fun.

When Bakugou finally arrives. Slamming the door behind him.

“I KNOW THAT AIN’T MY FUCKING YOU’RE SLAMMING BRAT!”

They’re getting into screaming matches.

Judging from everyone’s reaction. This was a normal occurrence between them.

Dinner was pleasant. The food was incredible.

Of course, you had to compliment the chef and Mitsuki was incredibly flattered.

She also shared that some of the veggies were grown by Masaru in their back garden.

THIS MAN DESERVES ALL THE PRAISE TOO OBVIOUSLY.

Everyone was having fun, chatting and laughing.

Something that was weirdly uncharacteristic though from one person in the room.

Bakugou.

You noticed that he was so quiet, he was barely eating and just staring at his plate.

He was just so lost in his own little world.

You do wonder what's going in his head.

Break was over, everyone got their well deserve rest.

Except you, cause you're a hardworking ass bitch.

This was going to be a long months of recording. A brand new project,

Immediately, Jirou turned to you the moment you walk into the office.

She's like "What you got?"

EVEN JIROU THE PRODUCER KNOW YOU'RE THAT BITCH.

There are going to be total of 10 songs in the new album

So, you present her your idea and the melody.

Obviously, since she's the producer, she will be the one who has the best and last calls on the final product.

Jirou would tell you; this way is better, add riff here, the runs would be better if it was this way in this part, the pitch is a little off try it this way, this line doesn't make sense can you revise it?

She's just so perfect and amazing.

Eventually, everyone started pouring in. They're pitching their own,

Even Bakugou was contributing into track playing a simple beat.

Everyone is having fun, chatting and sharing laughs in the writing process. Everything is going smoothly,

Mina also decided to film the whole process too. To post on the official YouTube Tokyo Lights channel.

But, you sat back as everyone chatted among themselves.

You're quiet, thinking over the whole song.

Something wasn't clicking with this one. There's something missing...

"Hey, Ei."

"Oh! We're in the nickname stage now?" He grins playfully, "So, what's up?"

"Can you sing?"

"Huh?"

Now, everyone is getting excited.

(Except Kirishima)

Who is protesting about it cause he's never sang before or even been recorded (Sero says otherwise cause he's heard him singing his heart out while he's in the bathroom)

Kirishima is blushing because he's embarrassed about it.

In their past 3 albums, no one else has sang except their former lead singer.

This is really the start of a new beginning.

This album is a bit personal to you.

It was an open letter to your former lover to say you weren't in the good place to love nor did that person deserve your love.

You're fixing a lot of damage done.

It starts off by blocking Shindo's phone number and booking a therapy right away.

The next week, Bakugou sees you outside his therapist office.

TAGS

@xviternity @bluebreadenthusiast​ @chuugarettes​

[titanicfreija]

Echoes of Pain

Today was just a bad day. Freija didn't know why, but she couldn't stop remembering and it kept bugging her and no matter what she tried to think of, if it wasn't the same, it was a different memory, all coming back and haunting her.

She did know why. At least it was real life. But it was just a battered chest plate.

She hated shit like that, just stupid, small things, they'd remind her and she would be fucked up for days. Sometimes combat would take it out, new pain to replace the echoes of the old, but it didn't work this time. She should have gone to Banner instead of Nessus, that just made it all worse.

She still had to get back to that, too. There was more to dig into. Rise was still looking into the gun mods, those were in deep, but she couldn't hold the fire off Rise and shoot at the big ones down there, last time got Freija's entire arm blasted off, left a blackened --

She ran her fingers through her hair, then let her arm flop back to the bed. The sheet underneath felt ice cold. Freija recognized her temperature spike and wondered if Thomas was home, because if he was, she needed to swap to strand.

Actually. That was just a good idea.

Can't hurt when I'm a bunch of thread.

Bullshit.

But I am, and it doesn't hurt because I'm lying in bed and fine, actually, so green strings or not. Nothing hurts. Nothing is scary. All the scary shit died and exploded, or exploded and died

just like me

Freija launched out of bed and stormed to the shower. Running water helped her feel the flow. The sound of water hitting floor was kind of annoying, but it drowned out everything else and didn't remind her of anything.

The water felt good, too. The way it ran on her skin helped her let go of herself and fall in with the stream. It would flow down and she would join it as it fell, on down the drain where she could spread out into the metal and stop being herself...

...the water let her slide down the drain and...

I swear to fuck can I just stop existing in a meaningful way? For maybe forty five minutes?

[bettyweir]

Betty Weir

Chapters 1-2

Can Betty keep up with her new life of cheerleading, cross-dressing, pizza delivering and vampire hunting?

Word Count: 1.9k

[Read on Ao3?] [Next]

Chapter 1.

Benny stops dead in his tracks, staring at the freshly pinned poster, reading “Cheer Tryouts, Tuesday after school!”

Vivid memories flood back to when he dressed up with Ethan as Betty and Veronica. Ethan never wanted to pick up a pom pom again after facing down Stephanie but Benny? Benny could only linger in the feelings of having so much fun as a cheerleader.

He quickly rips the poster off the bulletin board, a couple people eye him.

“Ha, cheerleaders are so stupid right. Ahah.” he crumples it up trying to act like he doesn’t care and catches up with Ethan.

–Later that night–

Benny is sitting alone at Ethan’s house. Ethan’s fast asleep in bed behind him. He’s copying over E’s homework. He gets distracted midway though the Media Studies questions, as he often does, and thinks about that poster…

He digs through his messy backpack and pulls it out. Stating the same simple message as It did last time.

Cheer tryouts, tomorrow. After school.

He gets up and starts going though Ethan’s closet.

It’s endless, messy and kinda gross.

Ethan would always shove his unorganized shit into this closet, so looking for anything was pretty hopeless but he was determined. After a solid hour of digging he finally stumbled upon the three holy items.

A red and black sleeveless top with the White Chappel logo stitched on it, a short simple red skirt and a long golden locked wig, slightly crumpled with two red bows on either side.

Benny squeezes the items tight, inhaling the stale closet air with glee.

He folds and softly places the items in his satchel underneath his books, he sits back in his chair and spins around. He stops and excitedly scribbles down the rest of the notes.

Chapter 2.

–After School– Benny stands in the bathroom, legs trembling. Oh, this is so stupid, what am I doing!? I should be home playing video games with Ethan, or something. Anything other then this. Oh, fucking christ.

Despite his anxious thoughts, he continues changing into his old cheerleading uniform. Once he's done, he takes a deep breath. His hand hovers over the stall door as he hesitates to open it. With an exhale, he pushes though and looks in the mirror. After making sure none of his short brown hair is sticking out, he rushes out of the men's bathroom.

He prays to god that no one saw him.

He quickly arrives at the gym hall. The bleachers are filled with preppy girls chatting and sitting around, waiting for their turn. He places himself down at the first row, holding onto grandma’s magical pompoms for good luck.

“Hi!” A cheery blonde walks up to him, “Please make sure you sign in before waiting!”

She hands him a clipboard filled with flowery, delicate names written in fancy cursive. Three spaces remain at the bottom asking to fill in a first and last name.

Benny shakily signs “Betty Weir” in the best cursive she could manage.

“Thank you buh-” she looks closer at the chicken scratches, “Betty!”

She walks away with a hop in her step, moving on to greet the new students walking in.

And Betty’s more than relieved.

Getting comfortable and with not much else to do, he watches one after another of girls doing backflips, somersaults and jumping jacks.

Oh god, he really missed doing—or at least, attempting—those tricks. He ruffles his pom poms and cheers like the other girls in the bleachers after each girl finishes their routine, trying to fit in.

Sadly his efforts weren't enough. He hears snickering behind him. He tries not to eavesdrop, but the fragments he can pick up made his stomach turn.

"Who is that?" A voice whispers.

"I don't know, but look at her hairy legs, oh my god."

"Total lesbo..." they laugh.

Betty freezes. How dare they? Why did I do this? I'm so fucking stupid, I didn't even shave my legs. I wanna go home. What am I doing here. I should just leave.

She feels tears welling up in her eyes. But before her train of thought can go any further off track, she hears a loud hiss behind her.

"What's your fucking problem?" A familiar voice yells, "She hasn't done anything! Leave her alone!"

Betty turns to see Erica, of all people, stomping down the bleachers to her.

"Hey, Is this seat taken?" she asks.

"Uhm..." Betty tries to speak in the highest octave she can, "No, go ahead!"

"Don't listen to those cunts," she sneers, "they're just jealous of us natural blondes."

"Ahah, right..."

"You seem familiar..." Erica looks at Betty, "You cheered for awhile last year, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Ahah." Betty nervously laughs, shying away from Erica's stares.

"OMG what happened? Why did you leave?"

"Well, you know, a head cheerleader being an evil witch is kinda off putting."

Erica clicks her tongue, "Damn, can't blame you for that. But don't worry, she's dealt with now."

"Yeah," Betty sighs, remembering the reason she has to pack her own lunches now, "Wonder what happened to her."

An ear piercing whistle interrupts their conversation.

"Erica Jones!" a teacher shouts.

"Oh, that's me," She stands up and tightens her pony tail, "I'll be right back."

"Good luck." Betty smiles.

Erica does amazingly, flipping and flying though the air. She lands all her stunts perfectly. She does have vampirism on her side, but even then, she has to be practicing religiously to do a triple backflip one handed. She's definitely getting in.

When she finishes, Betty is too timid to cheer. She quietly ruffles her pompoms as Erica sits back down next to her.

"Awe, no cheering?" She teases, "Was I that bad?"

"OMG, no! No, you were flipping amazing!" she gushes, pun completely intended.

"Awe, thank you," she blushes, "Have you gone yet?"

"Ah, no. W last name, takes forever."

"Ahh, best for last I guess." she elbows Betty, "So, what IS your name?"

"Oh, aha. Betty."

"Betty, huh?" Erica smirks, "Guessing your parents liked Archie?"

"Who's Archie?"

"Like, the comics."

"Oh, haha," Betty twirls her hair between her fingers, "I don't read comics or anything nerdy like that."

"Don't worry, I don't either."

Their lies brings the conversation to an uncomfortable halt. They shuffle in their seats, and look at their phones in silence. After a few names and whistle blows, Betty finally hears her name called.

"Betty Ware?" the teacher shouts.

"Oh, haha, that's me!" Betty fumbles to her feet, grabbing her lucky pompoms, and runs to the teachers side. She thought of correcting her name pronunciation, but, it's probably for the best if she keeps quiet.

"Alright, missy! Ready position!"

Betty puts her hands to her hips.

"Hand clap!"

She claps her hands together in a firm clasp.

"T motion!"

She sticks her arms out in a T, trying not to feel like a broken 3D model.

"Broken T!"

She puts her fists into her chest, keeping her arms out.

"Touchdown!"

She raises her hands way above her head.

"V motion!"

She spreads her arms apart, ruffling her pompoms.

"10 Jumping Jacks!"

She drops her pompoms down and quickly does 10 jumping jacks.

The teacher looks down at her clipboard.

"Freshman?" she asks.

"Uh, Junior this year." Betty squeaks.

"Thank you," she scribbles something down on her paper, "You can have a seat."

Betty gives her a quick curtsy and picks up her pompoms, running back to a cheering Erica.

"Ahah, stop!" Betty blushes, as she sits down next to her.

"Why? You were great!" Erica beams.

"Really?"

"Yeah! Your form was awesome, and you had a great smile!"

Betty tries not to blush, "Glad my midnight practices paid off..."

--Cut to Benny in his room.--

He's quietly murmuring a cheer while dancing around his messy floor.

"Boom! Did a bomb just go off in my head?" She puts a hand to her ear.

"No!" She stands on her bed, punching at the air. "It's the devils when we beat you black and red!"

"Calla' nurse calla' doctor" She shouts, jumping up and down.

He hears knocking on his door.

"Benny," his grandma's muffled voice came though the door, "Can you please keep it down?"

"Yeah, okay." he replies with a voice crack.

--Cuts back--

"OMG! I'll have to practice with you some time then."

"Haha, um, maybe."

A whistle blows.

"Alright girls, I've seen some great performances today." The tall, lengthy teacher announces. "Results will be up by tomorrow next to the gym doors."

The small crowd of wannabe cheer leaders stare at her with anticipation.

"You're dismissed."

The girls quickly rush down the bleachers and out the gym doors, but Erica stays comfortably next to Betty, obviously having something on her mind.

The rude two brunettes finally make it down from the back row of bleachers they were sitting on.

Erica growls at them and gets up from her seat.

"It was nice talking to you Betty," she says, gathering up her things, "I'll see you at school?"

"No!" Betty clams up, "Oh, no, I don't go to uh. School."

"What?"

"Home school. I'm Home schooled." Betty gives a large cheeky smile.

"Huh." Erica pulls her purse over her shoulder, charms clacking together, "Well, then, could we exchange numbers?"

Betty makes a shocked face.

Erica—A Girl—Willingly giving me her number?

"Sure... why not..."

Erica whips out her phone, covered from lock screen to phone case with Dusk's Jakeward smoldering into the camera. Betty swipes though and starts putting in her phone number.

"Here, gimme your phone!" Erica says, tapping her foot impatiently.

Betty takes out her phone in her bumpy green case and cringes. This isn't too much of a Boy Phone case is it?

Erica doesn't seem to mind, since she quickly punches in her digits.

"I'd love to chat more but..." Erica looks out the gym doors, in the direction the brunettes went, "I gotta go get something to eat... Text me!"

"Ahah, of course," Betty nervously tugs at her blonde hair, "See you later!"

And just like that, she's alone in the gymnasium.

She heads to the bathroom, checking both ways to make sure the coast was clear, and walks in. She gives herself one last good look in the mirror before she closes the stall door behind her.

Her eyes wander to different spots of the stall as she changes. Markings left by her peers read; "I was here" next to 20 tally marks, A few crudely drawn penises and someone's bandcamp link written in sharpie.

She takes out her baggy blue jeans, looks down at her unshaven legs, and sighs.

Guess I'll get to use a razor for real this time. She thinks to herself, scratching her hairless cheek.

A part of her never wants to put these pants on again. Just live out of her perfect uniform, but she has a grandma to return to and dinner to eat. So before she knows it, she's back to being plain old Benny.

As she stuffs her uniform away, his phone vibrates multiple times.

He slings his satchel over his shoulder and heads out of the school. As he clicks together the straps of his blue bike helmet, he checks his phone to read the messages.

From Erica: heyyy betty its erica! had a talk with those girls who were super rude 2 ya dw about them bothering u EVER again ;)

Something tells Benny that she did a lot more with her and her fangs then just talk...

Thanks for reading! Happy International Womens day~