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celestie0 · 2 months

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach.

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her.

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?”

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.”

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long.

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore.

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you.

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights.

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.”

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you.

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give.

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes.

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong.

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.”

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth.

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck.

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field.

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed.

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead.

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too.

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!”

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before.

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck.

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.”

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.”

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?”

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess.

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that.

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair.

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.”

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.”

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.”

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand. “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry.

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—”

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does.

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.”

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done.

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you.

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look.

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing.

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness.

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing.

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused.

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging.

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist.

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along.

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ you're all caught up!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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metamorphesque · 2 years

Text

— a prayer, tathève simonyan

[text ID: a prayer / i look up at God and see my ceiling staring back at me. / whimpered prayers leaving through the gates of my lips, ricocheting and landing right onto my eyes. / now everything i see is tainted with the colors of my pending longings. / a desire so raw you could still see the specks of blood gathering at seams. / a prayer … / a man on his knees in front of a woman, hands on her hips, holding the cathedral that was neither built nor can be destroyed / lips kissing the source of life / lips kissing the source of light / lips kissing / a prayer! – a body to crawl into! (to grow into?) / a prayer! – a dead language we refuse to let go of, / a language of the dead that we refuse to let go of / a prayer! – Grandpa’s favorite tie, hanging from the bedroom door, decades after he passed / because my Grandma was the only one of us who knew what a prayer was / a prayer! – Grandma: “sitting with someone until they finish their meal is the purest sign of love” / a prayer! – i’ll sit with you till the very last sip, till the very last grain / a prayer! – a hymn to the Sun written by the coldest of hands / a prayer! – a mouth full of tongues that can never find the right language to weep in / Rage, that is love – rotten! / Rage, that is desire – rotten! / Rage! – like a prayer, unanswered, ricocheting from your ceiling and landing right onto your eyes, never quite reaching where it was meant to.]

#poetry #poem #quotes #literature #god #a prayer #a girl is a haunted house #my writings #tathève simonyan #typography #my poetry #poets on tumblr #dark academia #tateve simonyan #rage #longing

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lovelykhaleesiii · 8 months

Note

Can I put this in as a request? 🤭

omg omg omg I imagined this too!!! how hot would it be fucking him on the way to his coronation in that little ass carriage + that bumpy road ughh. the thots I had during that scene, UNHOLY!

Merciless or Ruthless?

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x Wife!fem!Reader

WORDS: 2,019.

WARNINGS: degradation kink, name-calling, praise kink, breeding/pregnancy kink, brief mentions of implied pregnancy, mentions of p in v sexual intercourse, slight exhibitionism, swearing.

A/N - I may have gotten slightly carried away with this. but he deserves it <3 hope you enjoy lovely x

The inevitability of death could be a comforting notion of peace to some, and yet marks a heavy burden of loss, sorrow and responsibility on others. King Viserys, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhonyar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, or more commonly dotted as Viserys the Peaceful, had passed peacefully in his sleep.

His death was one that many held their breaths anticipating in the final previous months, considering the haste deterioration of the king's ill health. Nonetheless, during these months of anticipation, whispers of preparation had begun to churn behind the back of the sickly King, plans to anoint his eldest son, your dearly beloved husband, Aegon the Second of His Name, as King of the Realm.

Regardless of such talks, Aegon remained blissfully oblivious to it all. Relishing in the banquets and spoils of royalty, he remained keen and satisfied as Prince, and from time to time, expressed the notion of respecting his elder half-sister, Rhaenyra, as the rightful Queen.

It was only with you, that Aegon openly delved deeper into his reluctance of being adorned as King, expressing a distaste for the role and the heavy burden.

"I have no wish to rule...Only to wine, dine and fuck you senseless and raw, till you are practically dripping of me."

As his faithful and devoted wife, you ultimately respected and supported his well wishes. No desire to dissuade him further, despite the conniving tactics employed by his mother and grandsire, who often urged you to encourage him to seek and accept the duty of the Crown. You denied their efforts, remaining stagnant to Aegon's choice.

That was until Viserys' death began to ignite a ripple of chaos...

"A-Aeg... You've been distant all morning. Talk to me, my love."

You had awoken beside Aegon that morning, although he was not the same... His last few pending hours as Prince, before his looming coronation, was he to be anointed as King. Having quarrelled tirelessly against his grandsire, mother and liege council, he was outnumbered and ultimately defeated... More so, it was after his discrete one on one talk with Ser Criston, that seemed to shove Aegon into accepting his fate, without even so uttering a rebuttal.

"I am not fit to rule, Y/N... Everyone knows it, I know it. This is going to be a disaster, and Nyra, I-"

He pauses as his breath hitches in his throat, gulping as he composes himself, his lilac eyes swell, glistening in the streaks of sunlight, yet no tears fallen: his lounged body swayed in motion to the rocking carriage.

"-I know what is expected of me, but I doubt myself."

"Aeg- It is just nerves, my dear. We'll take it step by step, day by day, I promise-"

Reaching out, your arm stretches over as you lean towards your Targaryen husband. Your gentle hand firmly holding his, as your thumb caresses his pale skin. The colour in his face has faded, except for the dark circles embedded beneath his lower lash line. Despite your encouraging words, and half-hearted smile, you earned a simple shrug and huff, as Aegon continued to longingly look onwards towards the bustling crowds gathering and trodding towards the Hill of Rhaenys.

"Please Aeg- Is there anything I can do in my power, my love? I cannot bear to see you in such a miserable state for longer."

Silence remained still for a few sparing seconds, before Aegon's tiresome eyes sparked with a familiar yearn. Flickering from your seated position towards your entwined hands, taking a deep breath before he dared to speak.

"Do me the honour, of fucking me one last time as a Prince. Do it for me, as a gift to your King."

You could not deny, nor did your body try to hide it, you were taken aback in shock by his demand.

"Right now? Here? Aeg- Can this not wait for after the coronation, mayhaps back in bed-"

"Please, Y/N... Unorthodox I know, but when have we not been? It would really help to calm my nerves, baby. If I could just feel you, let me be with you. You always know how to make me feel better."

Exhaling a defeated sigh, you lean back, pulling aside a curtain shading a small window through the carriage, and see there is still much a way ahead, along with all the disrupting foot traffic.

Carefully standing up as you felt your stance unsteady attempting to pull up the rich, silk layers of your custom gown up. The cobbled road beneath the wheeled carriage strewed with potholes and uneven surfaces, made it near impossible to stand still. Immediately your hand instinctively reaches, latching and gripping onto Aegon's sturdy shoulder, as he remains comfortably seated. His arm reaches over to you, supporting your waist, as your other hand grips onto his forearm, as you nestle yourself atop his wide lap, as he slightly readjusts himself.

"Is this what you wanted, hmm? Want your pretty, little wife's cunt on your cock to make you feel better? You are worse than the whores out there-" You head tilts gesturing towards the Street of Silk in passing by, often where your young husband would venture during his bachelor days. Your fingers begin to find their way to his tussled, short hair, pulling at his platinum strands. Although he was dressed and prepped dutifully this morning, it still looked somewhat unkempt. You pursue his soft lips, eager as you delve in for a kiss, Aegon succumbing to it, trying desperately to hold for as long as possible, before you break apart, both of you breathless.

His familiar taste tinged with the essence of wine lingering, etched on your lips as you savour it, your focus remaining solely on one another. Each of your hands remain gripped to his shoulders, your body weight atop of Aegon's kept him steady during the rocky ride, as you swayed in motion. The haste, harsh turns made you grind against your husband's clothed lap: sensing a brewing, hungry twitch growing more blatant beneath your bare, throbbing cunt.

"I can feel you stirring, handsome... Such a needy Prince today, aren't you? Gods help me, when you are crowned King. I shall be at your beckon call day and night," You breathlessly utter closely into the elder Prince's ear. Aegon's rough hands firmly clutched at your hips, guiding your natural movements, as you buck backwards and forwards against his larger frame. The friction was palpable, as the heat infused between your inner thighs over his crotch.

"That you will be. I'll have you bent and fucked stupid over that fucking throne when I want... The only perks I shall relish in as King. Keeping you safe and sated," Aegon lowly whispered, an almost fearsome growl echoed in his throat.

"Is that so? Ugh- I must say, dear husband... To see you crowned and seated almighty on that throne, ordering us subjects below you. I might just faint at the sheer sight."

A snarling chuckle escaped his plump lips, as his hands glided over towards your front, pulling the hem further up, exposing your undergarments. Without so much as a warning, and with such swift strength, Aegon tore the piece of fabric apart.

"Just the thing I needed to cheer me up, and look at you--"

Aegon's thick digits teasing at your arousal, gently encircling your entrance as he attempted to pry you open, before hungrily licking your sweet taste off his fingers.

"Already making such a wet mess, who exactly is the whore now? I've barely touched you, and your body desperately craves for my cock, huh?"

"Mhmm-" You whimper, as Aegon elevated himself, unbuttoning his clean trousers, his stiff cock lively springing into action.

"Tell your King exactly what you want, baby... Tell your King and I shall listen. Mayhaps I will be merciful and grant you what you desire, or be ruthless."

His hard, strained cock, red and glistening enticingly with his pre-cum oozing at the tip, appeared aching for release. Teasingly stroking at the entrance of your moist folds, feeling its pulsating throbs against the sensitive skin of your cunt, was enough to send you into overdrive.

As you instinctively lifted yourself up slightly off of Aegon's lap, readying yourself to plop yourself back down, Aegon's grip over your waist, held you steady and preserved.

"Not yet, baby... Use your words. I need to hear it from you first. Can't just let you roam around and do as you please now. You think you get some sort of special treatment?"

"A-Aeg, please-" You had mindlessly moaned: the rugged motions of the carriage persisted, the unsteadiness plunging you back down against Aegon's lap, as you nestled for support. His cock thrashed against your velvet folds, earning a sly smirk on his behalf and a helpless moan from yourself.

"Words, princess."

"Y-Your cock, my King. I-I want you to f-fuck me rough and hard, till I'm nice and round with heirs for m-my King."

"Fuck. That's it, baby-" Satisfied, Aegon's hands effortlessly lifted you once more momentarily, before having you plunge down over his cock. Its wide, intimidating girth was a sensation you could never quite adjust to, naturally stretching your silky walls, clenching tightly over his thudding cock.

"Let me fuck my heir into you now, and let it be known that you carry the offspring of the King. These tits will swell ample with milk for the babe and for I-" He breathlessly growls, as his lips softly suckle at your cleavage, his hands once more ventured, fingers pulling at your corset fabric, before roughly pulling apart the seams: busting your breasts more open, enough to shed any last remaining source of modesty.

"-These hips will grow wide to carry and birth a whole damn litter. This precious stomach, may the Gods be good, will swell greatly in the moons to come. Fuck me, you will be such a heavenly Queen."

Aegon's frame now moving against the uphill, rocky drive naturally his cock followed his motions delved deep inside of you, striking at your cervix. Whimpering moans of pleasure and pain, coaxed in your voice chiselled through the carriage, layered with Aegon's heavy breathing.

"You w-will be s-such a good King, such a g-good father, as you have been an honourable husband. P-Putting my needs first."

"S-Say more, precious-" Aegon sternly proclaimed, his tone growling louder, as his large hands had subtly snaked their way towards your backside, rough palms [tarnished from training] kneading at your plush flesh.

"You are the rightful King. I devote my entire being, my entire existence to you, Aeg. Forever bound to you, I am at your disposal. Love me, ch-cherish me...F-Fuck me."

With all the swaying, harsh motions from the carriage itself alongside the sensual love-making, Aegon's cock released all the tension from the anticipation, the buildup from your touch, that he desperately needed. Reaching his ultimate peak, in return spoiling you with a climatic apex.

The moments that followed timely, had forever changed the course of history itself...

Aegon had been crowned and accepted by the realm as King. And as he spoke like a true, honest ruler, the Gods saw fit as they did anointing your husband, and you began to swell healthily with child in the months that followed. It was widely known however, that the conception of the King's soon to be heir, was poetically the day its father was crowned.

"As tense as we all were for Aegon, it seemed you two were rather ugh- eager for the coronation... If the Gods blessed the Queen with child now, then we shall be thankful for the holy plans of the Seven," Alicent, the Dowager Queen, had reminisced over the intimate family dinner that night.

Regardless, it took time for Aegon to grow accustomed to the heavy burden and responsibility of having to rule Seven Kingdoms. And yet he did so willingly, so long as you had remained dutifully by his side. That, he forever was eternally thankful for.

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel

credit for dividers - @/firefly-graphics

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #king aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii x fem!reader #aegon ii x y/n #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction

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dollfacerecs · 7 months

Text

— min ⋆ yoon ⋆ gi

myg fic recommendation list by clover. 🍀 ↓

♡ = smut ; ♤ = angst ; ♧ = fluff ; ♕ = favorite

main list

♢ vows ; ♡, ♤, ♕ // completed — by @hamsterclaw

⇝ arranged marriage, enemies to lovers // i’ve read this a few times and i love it sm. don’t forget to go to yoongi’s masterlist to find the drabbles to this (scroll down till u see vows and u’ll see all the drabbles)

♢ monachopsis ; ♡, ♤ // series — by @personasintro

⇝ husband’s brother, sperm donor // yoongi is so fucking hot in this holy shit. imagine your husband begging his estranged brother to donate his sperm and the brother’s only condition is that he gets to fuck you raw. hello????? i love mimi so much man shes such a sickening author.

♢ away from you ; ♡, ♤ // series — by @personasintro

⇝ shitty marriage, second chance // i love the development, the angry sex, the makeup sex, the dialogue, the interactions. just chefs kiss. + dilf(asshole)!yoongi like whats not to laugh.

♢ 3 tangerines ; ♡, ♤, ♧ // series — by @kithtaehyung

⇝ big brother’s best friend, fwb // ughh such a good fic. i still need to catch up but everything up to what i read is outstanding. so sneaky :p

♢ cybersex ; ♡, ♤ // one-shot — by @gimmethatagustd

⇝ callgirl, big brother’s best friend // again, brother’s best friend au I KNOWWW but trust me guys. oooooof when yoongi finds out the girl he’s been having phone sex with is YOU i was punching my walls.

♢ look down on me like that ; ♡, ♤ // series — by @here2bbtstrash

⇝ producer!yoongi, enemies to lovers // so fuckin good. the tension, the pining i kinda went crazy over this one. i still need to finish tho so no spoilers

♢ take five ; ♤, ♧ // completed — by @jiminrings

⇝ dermatologist!yoongi, co-workers // guys when i tell you this tickles my brain so good. the yearning and the stubbornness from both sides UGHH. i love this sm

♢ yoongi’s lullaby ; ♤ // one-shot — by @jiminrings

⇝ soulmates, unrequited love // if ur looking for pure angst just read this tbh

♢ perpetual datejust ; ♤, ♧ // one-shot — by @jiminrings

⇝ model!yoongi, mutual pining // again… just angst. pain. love it tho.

♢ in the darkest little paradise ; ♡ // drabble — by @sunnebeam

⇝ gangster!yoongi, sexworker!reader // just some good ole pwp. who doesn’t like gangster!yoongi pwp tho like….

♢ after hours ; ♡, ♤, ♧ // ongoing — by @archivedkookie

⇝ basketballcaptainfuckboy!yoongi, unrequited love // guys like the angst is so heartwrenching the way reader is so pathetically in love w him and he’s just nonchalant in everything he does UGHHH pls read its saur gewd.

♢ pending…

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shiorimakibawrites · 6 months

Text

Flare Up (Daredevil Fan Fic)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Asthmatic Reader

Summary: You have a flare up of asthma along with a cold. Matt takes care of you.

Warning(s): Descriptions of asthma and cold symptoms, fluff

Author's Note: The description of asthma is based on my own experience, including a flare up over the last couple of days.

Tagging: @itwasthereaminuteago

Flare Up

You woke up feeling terrible. Your entire torso ached like someone had been kicking you. That dull ache turned to pain when you started coughing. Deep, hacking coughs that felt like they lasted forever. When the fit was over, you were short of breath and feeling light-headed. But now you knew why your chest hurt so much. You had been coughing in your sleep. No matter you didn’t feel like you had slept at all and why your throat felt scrapped raw.

You tried to take a deep breath but that only made you cough again. It wasn’t as long as the previous bout of coughing but it still left you aching. You could hear the wheeze in each breath. You needed to use your inhalers. You sat up and turned toward your bedside table, opening the top drawer.

The first one you grabbed was the rescue inhaler. Holding it in your hand, you started giving it a good shake but had to pause to ride out another coughing fit. When it stopped, you finished giving the inhaler its shake. Raising it to your mouth, you took a breath at the same time as you pressed down on the canister. You took a few more breaths, then another puff from the inhaler.

You sat it down, grimacing. You hated the taste of the medicine. You were more neutral about the way it made your heart race and gave you the sensation that you were trembling even when you weren’t. But you accepted all of that for the easing of the tightness in your chest. It didn’t magically fix everything. You were still coughing. Your entire chest and back still hurt. The medicine in your rescue inhaler couldn’t really effect the inflammation deeper in your lungs.

If you kept having this much trouble breathing, you would do a breathing treatment. It was the same kind of medicine but the nebulizer machine helped it get further into your lungs. If you remembering what the doctor had told you correctly. You thought it might be a larger dose than your inhaler delivered but you couldn’t remember.

You grabbed your second inhaler, the maintenance one which held a different, longer-acting medicine. But when you pressed down on the canister, you got nothing. Feeling confused, you took a closer look and realized that it was out of doses. A quick check of drawer didn’t reveal a box with a new one in it. How, you had that prescription on auto-fill at the pharmacy . . . then you remembered. You had gotten the text telling you that your prescription was ready but had forgotten to go pick it up. It had been hectic week.

The opposing party had backed out of the pending settlement agreement at the last minute. One of their new case had Burke & Winthrop Associates on the other side – something that made all of you groan. Not because you couldn’t take them but because they were always a massive pain in the ass. Spider-Man’s girlfriend had been accused of punching a cop. Not that the cops knew about the girlfriend part but you did. This meant a certain amount of hovering from the aforementioned vigilante, both in and out of costume. Not because he didn’t trust Nelson & Murdock to help his girlfriend but because Peter, like Matt, was a worrier. It didn’t help that the ADA was dragging their feet about providing certain discovery materials – like the officer’s body cam footage . . .

His hovering had come in handy the other night when, due to some complicated series of events that you still weren’t clear on, something had started making a loud, ear-piercing shriek. The criminals, who hadn’t been expecting it either, had their hands clapped tightly over their ears. But Matt was completely down, writhing on the ground and almost biting off his tongue trying not to scream. Now Spider-Man wasn’t a huge fan of loud noises either but he darted over anyway. Got the noise stopped, webbed up the criminals, and hauled Matt back home. It took the rest of night for the resulting vicious migraine to subside.

You had felt a little off yesterday but you had chalked it up to being tired. It had been busy week. You had stayed up helping take care of Matt during his migraine. You had decided to stay the night in your apartment last night beside knowing that you slept better at Matt’s because you were still paying rent on the place and it seemed silly to never stay there . . .

You wrapped yourself up in your robe, put on a pair of fuzzy socks, and shuffled toward the kitchen. Hot drinks always eased your symptoms during an asthma flare up. The normally quick task of putting on coffee went slowly because the slightest hint of exertion left you feeling short of breath and brought on another coughing fit.

While the coffee brewed, you went into the bathroom. You hadn’t noticed it immediately – feeling like you could barely breath had understandably distracted you – but you might also gotten sick. You were a little congested. Your face felt tender across the top of your cheeks and forehead. There was feeling of pressure in your ears. All things you had experienced when you had a cold or similar infection. But sometimes seasonal allergies gave you the same symptoms.

Illness, allergies, or both could have easily triggered this flare up.

You took a pill for an allergy relief along with a multi-symptom cold. Unfortunately it was the last dose of cold medicine. You would have to get more before this one wore off. You were not looking forward to it. But maybe you could get some fresh lemons while you were getting your medicine. Hot tea with honey and lemon always felt so good on your throat when it was this sore. You had tea and honey but no lemons . . .

Your phone started ringing. It was, of course, nowhere close to you being still hooked onto the charger on the other side of the living room. You sighed and started heading toward it. You barely managed to reach it before it switched over to voicemail, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Hello?” you said, wincing at how bad your voice sounded. Croaky as a frog.

“Sweetheart, you sound terrible.”

Matt. And he sounded like he had already slipped into worrywart mode.

“Matches how I feel,” you said, then winced for another reason. It hurt to talk.

“What’s wrong?”

“Asthma flare up,” you said. “Cold.”

You felt a tickle in your throat. You tried to swallow, to prevent the oncoming coughing fit and making Matt more worried than he already was. But you couldn’t stop it. Worse luck, it was a bad one. The coughs were deep, barking, seemed to have no end in sight. You couldn’t breath. Darkness crept into your vision and the room swayed . . . then it stopped. You could take a breath. A ragged, thin breath but a breath.

You leaned against the wall, rubbing your chest. That one really hurt. Your chest felt like it was on fire and your throat felt like you had tried to gurgle with glass. Tears pricked at your eyes . . .

Then you realized that you had dropped your phone. Bending down to pick it up didn’t help with your dizziness but you had to get it before Matt had an actual heart attack. As it was, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was already darting out of the door to parkour to your apartment.

You heard his fanatic voice before your phone got up to your ear.

“-heart, answer me!”

“I’m here,” you said. “I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t,” he retorted.

Which was fair. Hearing your own voice – wheezy, faint, and croaky as a frog – you wouldn’t believe you either.

“I’m coming over.”

“Matt,” you started to protest, not wanting him to get sick, but was cut off by another bout of coughing. Not as bad or as long this time but so close on the heels on the previous one, it hurt just as bad. Some of the tears escaped your eyes.

“I’m coming over,” he repeated, his voice firm and unyielding. You gave up trying to argue. It would be a total waste of energy. You recognized that tone. Matt had found his hill. He was ready and willing to die on it.

“Okay,” you said.

“Have you used your inhalers?”

“Yes.”

He made annoyed noise. “Partial lie.”

“Used rescue inhaler,” you retorted.

“What about the other one?”

“Out of doses.”

“Don’t you have that on auto-fill?”

“Yes,” you said. “Forgot to pick it up.”

You swallowed, trying to sooth your throat. Your voice was getting rougher.

“I’ll get it,” he said. “Do you need anything else?”

“Medicine,” you said. “Lemon.”

“Get some rest sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” you agreed. Rest sounded really good right now. Your bed had more pillows and blankets but the couch was much closer. You shuffled over to it, wrapped yourself in the cuddling blanket and sat down. You rested your head against the back and closed your eyes. You were just going to rest them for a moment . . .

You must have dozed off because the next thing you knew, the door to your apartment was opening to admit Matt, a shopping bag in his hand. Unless it was windy outside, you suspected that he had taken shortcuts getting here. His hair had that windblown quality you associated with him using his ninja skills while in his civilian grab.

“Hey Matty,” you said.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said back, giving you a little smile. It wasn’t his big smile, the one that lit up his entire face. He couldn’t smile like that when he was worried. “Your lungs sound even worse up close. Maybe you should go to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Sweetheart . . .”

“No,” you repeated but was prevented from elaborating by coughing. Which probably didn’t help your case. “Just gonna tell me to do what I’m gonna do here. Rest, breathing treatment, etc.”

He didn’t look convinced. You glared at him. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see it. It was the principle of thing.

“I’ve had asthma since I was a baby,” you said. “I know the drill.”

“Alright,” he said, either surrendering or making a strategic retreat. Probably the later. You had little doubt that he felt like your home treatment wasn’t doing enough, going to the hospital would come back and this time it would not be negotiable. “Where is your nebulizer?”

You told him where to find it and the liquid medicine. Both of which he brought to you. While you set up the machine, you started feeling like you were forgetting something. Something important . . . you suddenly bolted upright as you remembered. “Court!”

“What?” Matt asked, confused by your sudden panic.

“I have court this morning,” you said. You looked at the clock and groaned. You’d never make to the courtroom in time. “I’m going to be late.”

“No, you aren’t,” Matt said, moving back into the living room. “I called Foggy on the way here. He’s going to cover you at the hearing and the appointments that Karen can’t reschedule.”

“Really?” you said.

“Really really,” he answered.

“What about your appointments, Mr. Murdock?”

“Karen’s working on it. She’ll let me know if I need to come in.”

That was that. You finished setting up the machine, opened the capsule of medicine and poured it into the cup. You screwed on the mouthpiece and flicked on the machine. A familiar, droning and hissing sound filled the air and soon steam began to appear around the mouthpiece. You put it in your mouth and dutifully inhaled the medicine. Despite the fact that it didn’t taste any better like this than it did in puffed form. And it dried out your mouth something awful.

But you were well aware that it was either do the breathing treatment here or at the hospital. You’d rather do it here, where you were comfortable. Matt surprised you by sitting down beside you. The nebulizer wasn’t exactly loud to your ears but it wasn’t whisper-quiet either. But if the noise or the smell of the medicine bothered him, he gave no sign of it. Just rubbed your sore back and sides with his big, warm hands until the treatment was done.

Soon afterward, you had a mug of hot tea with lemon and honey in your hands. Part of you wanted coffee but knew the tea would feel better on your throat. While you sipped the tea, Matt quietly suggested putting something on and cuddling on the couch. Which you thought was best idea he had ever had.

You decided to put on a series of nature documentary, ones about the oceans. There was something about watching pretty fish and other marine critters accompanied by soft-spoken narration that you found relaxing. And that pretty much set the pattern for the day. You watched a program about ocean animals, drank hot tea or ice water, and cuddled with Matt on the couch. Sometimes you dozed off. Sometimes you coughed again and Matt’s hands would rub your back until it was over.

You didn’t have to get a single drink. It seemed like you tried to get up for anything over than a trip to the bathroom, Matt was giving you the worried face. You hated the worried face. And you had almost no defense against his big hazel eyes looking sadly at you. It helped that you didn’t really want to argue with him about pampering you all day anyway.

That pampering had extended to the hot shower you decided to take partway through the day in hopes of feeling less like crud. With how much your chest still ached, it was nice not to have to bend down to soap up your legs. Through seeing Matt on his knees in front of you, nearly naked, while the water poured down around you, gave you certain thoughts. Thoughts that you made a mental note to revisit when you felt better.

Matt washing your hair and massage your scalp eased discomfort that you hadn’t entirely realized was there until it was gone. The oversized tee shirt and sweatpants he grabbed didn’t match but you couldn’t care less. They were some of your softest, most comfortable clothing and that was more important than matching.

After Matt had dried himself off and redressed, you took the opportunity to hug him. While surprised, it didn’t take him long to return the hug.

“I love you,” you said softly, burrowing your face into his chest. His arms tightened around you, holding you closer.

“I love you too,” he said. Low and quiet, almost like he was afraid that if he said it too loud, that if anyone beside you heard how much he cared, that something awful would happen. Your arms did their own tightening.

You didn’t know how long you both stood there, in your little bubble of lingering steam and whispered confessions, before your stomach decided to ruin the mode by growling loudly. You felt your face flush but Matt just chuckled.

“Lunch?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you said.

Lunch ended up being potato soup, fresh from your favorite cafe and delivered by Karen. She let Matt know that she had managed to rearrange his schedule so he didn’t need to come in. Foggy sent the message that he hoped you were feeling better and not to order dinner since that mother would be sending over her famous chicken noodle soup. You hadn’t had it yet but Matt swore it was delicious.

He was right. It was delicious. Not complicated but it was amazing how good something could taste if made from fresh ingredients. The pumpkin cookies that she also sent along tasted just as good.

‘Being sick will always suck,’ you mused as you dozed on the couch, snuggled in Matt’s arms. ‘But sometime it doesn’t completely suck.’

Still, you felt like you should apologize a week later when Matt came down with your cold.

#daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #sick fic #fan fic #mild hurt/comfort #fluff

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yeyinde · 1 year

Text

NAVIGATION | AO3 COD MASTERLIST

WHEN YOUR NEED GROWS TEETH | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

BABY TRAPPING FIC:

It starts when you ask him to pick up your birth control—like dangling a piece of bloody meat in front of a starving dog. Of course he's going to take a bite. He thinks you ought to have known this by now.

PAST AND PENDING | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

you haven't stopped thinking of what it would feel like to burn your lips on his cigar, and numb the sting with the scotch on his tongue.

ODE TO A CONVERSATION STUCK IN YOUR THROAT | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

Tendrils of something soft liquefy the hardened edges of sapphire—a look you haven't seen on him since Tenerife—but it pauses at the folder you try, and fail, to discreetly tuck further into the crevasse of your body. Hiding it, futilely, from view. Something sours across his face. The half-melted azure firms into unbreakable obsidian. "Business as usual, then?"

FINESHRINE | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PEGGING FIC:

It surprised you when he’d taken your off-handed comment about wanting to fuck him senseless for a change as something sincere, obtainable, and simply looked at you, plain-faced, if a little bashful around the edges, and said, “alrigh’, love. Lemme see what you got.” Or—John Price finally gets pegged.

UNDERDRESSED | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

MASK ON:

He's big, of course: massive. A mountain of a man cut from ashlar. A defensive wall. Stalwart and firm. Unyielding. But seeing him like this, in full gear—battle ready—makes you shiver. Makes you feel too hot, too cold; feverish. Fervid. Or—John fucks you with his gear, and mask, on

BARKING DOG | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PRICE + JEALOUSY

Jealousy comes easy for Price, but it's rare he ever acts on it. Until, of course, he does.

SEA FEVER | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

AU—SAILOR!PRICE

But John's always been greedy. The kind that wants, and wants. Once would never be enough, and he knows that if he sunk his teeth into you, a bite would never satiate his rapacious appetite, never quench the hunger. And since he can't make a meal out of a morsel, he'd rather starve.

SERIES

CAUGHT | AO3 MIRROR SERIES. COMPLETE | 18﹢ —AUDIENCE | CIRCLE THE DRAIN

PROMPT: just thinking about moaning captain whilst Price is watching you

NEON MEDUSA | AO3 MIRROR CYBERPUNK AU. SERIES. INCOMPLETE | 18﹢ —STATIC IN THE AIRWAVES | WARNING SIGNS

MYTHOLOGY

WILLOW TREE MARCH | AO3 MIRROR REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

FAE PRICE

"They'll give you gifts," your gran says, shaking her head. "Things from their realm. Little trinkets and gems—" geodes, sapphires and diamonds, raw gold and coral; "—and you must never accept them," a whittled deer made of sequoia under your pillow; crow bones buried in the garden."Because if you do, if you do, they'll never let you go." "Why?" You asked, blinking at her. "Because it's a courting ritual, and to accept means… well," her mouth twists in wry disdain. "Just don't."

SEVEN ARROWS SERIES. REQUEST. Ptah x Sekhmet —ferromagnatism | AO3 MIRROR

PROMPT: how about price faking injuries to see a specific nurse he has a crush on but won’t admit.

WICKER PYRE | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

DRAGON PRICE

All things considered, you should have expected it. You know better than to make deals with dragons

THREESOMES

ON THE FLIPSIDE | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

JOHNNY/PRICE/READER

(Or: Soap makes a discovery—a tangled web that weaves between you and their Captain—and one can only imagine his surprise when Price turns to him, eyes battle-ready, and says: want to join us, Sergeant?)

SOMEWHERE, TONIGHT | GHOST X READER X PRICE DRABBLE. TEASER | 18﹢

DRABBLES & REQUESTS

COLD, COLD, COLD (voyeurism drabble) REQUEST. DRABBLE. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: I need to be railed by price as the team either walks past or is right next door. So upset he's fictional lmao

IN DREAMS | AO3 MIRROR REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

Sweet dreams. Warm knuckles. The ghost of your lips pressing against his crown. He never tells you he doesn't sleep enough, but somehow you just know.

REVERENT ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

imagine just—pretty little woman'ing him in the tub.

WET | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: “#his beard just??? looks wet???” okay but Price having to talk to the team after eating you out and not getting a chance to make himself presentable 🫣🫣

everything looks better from above ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: ‼️imagine riding price while he’s smoking a cigar‼️ that just popped inside my head and now i’m horny

TEXTBOOK | AO3 MIRROR REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: imagine cockwarming him, sitting all nice and pretty for him, him calling you a good [insert nickname here] or "sweet little pet, behaving so well for me"

BIG BEAR | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

That scene from SIX with Barry Sloane, but it's Price.

This probably isn't what they meant when they told you to support your Captain.

KILOS REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: maybe reader is tongue pierced giving him sloppy head?

CARE PACKAGE DRABBLE. COMPLETE.

PROMPT: Just saw a TikTok where a kid send their favorite stuff animal to his dad who's deployed. Just imagine this happening with 141 🥺

POSITIVE DRABBLE. COMPLETE

PROMPT: So imagine Prices face when you send a picture of a positive pregnancy test. Just let that mental image permeate a little....

⧽ SPIT TAKE | VOICE KINK | SLOW DANCE | BATTLE SCARS | PREG!READER

SFW ALPHABET

#Masterlist #john price x reader

702 notes · View notes

sseomtada · 19 days

Text

being [ruben dias]

the rekindling of your relationship continues, leaving a confession of your own pending.

warnings: 18+ | wc: 5576 | 5/8

Was there a name for a honeymoon phase the second time around?

There wasn’t a technical phrase, you checked. Interestingly, among your research, you came across an article that perfectly articulated what you were experiencing with Ruben. It was the stage of your relationship where you now saw their imperfections and flaws, where you didn’t see your partner on the pedestal you initially place them on in the beginning.

He was no longer the one person who could do no wrong in your eyes or the one who held all the answers to your problems. You weren’t the co-dependent and starry eyed girl who only viewed others through a lens of what you wanted them to be either.

You were okay with that and so was he.

After making quite the…mess in your office, there wasn’t much face to face interaction between you two. Ruben was quickly whisked away by his team to another country for a Champions League match. Even though that initially felt like an inconvenience, you shifted the perspective to something more constructive.

It gave you time to sit with your thoughts and emotions. You still had no regrets about getting back together with him, but you had to truly assess the decision from every angle within. The way it transpired seemed relatively rushed at first. In retrospect, you realized it was anything but hasty.

Your previously relationship with Ruben never came to an organic end. There was no fizzling out or love lost, only an obstacle that he didn’t give himself or you a chance to push through. Had things been different and he brought his fears to you then, would you have ever broken up?

All roads you took in that vein lead you to believe that you wouldn’t have. Of course, there was no way to know for sure what the future held for that version of events. Anything could’ve happened over the course of those seven years that might’ve eventually drove a wedge between you. However, as things were, there was no end in sight.

Maybe that was why it still was effortless with him, potentially even more so now than it was then. You’d both experienced a lot of growth as one naturally does when life progresses. The people you were currently and the past you shared left no room for pretense. He came as he was, raw and unfiltered in his accountability. You didn’t feel obligated to give him anything in return - you wanted to. And that carried the most weight.

“What happened to the sofa?”

Cindy’s question brought you back to a startling reality. You tried to reign in your nervous expression, smoothing fallen hairs at the back of your neck.

“I made a big mess with some takeout.” Even you had a hard time buying that. “It was irredeemable. A new one should be here in a few hours.”

Aki came in from the kitchen, munching on the lo mein. “Shame. I really liked that big, comfy thing.”

That nibbling guilt returned to your stomach. Compounded onto the fact that you still had yet to tell her about the first conversation was now the big revelation that you’d gotten back together with Ruben. Your apprehension only grew worse with the addition of the later.

It didn’t stem from a lack of trust or a fear of judgment. She was somebody that you could confess a murder to and it would only be met with a response like, do you need help hiding the body?

You just knew that it wouldn’t be highly celebrated news. The way things ended, her being caught in the crossfire and the absolute wreck you were would be the things playing at the forefront of her mind when you told her. It was no fault of hers, literally anyone else in the same position wouldn’t be able to not think back to that time.

Perhaps stronger than any of that was the worry that your confession would hurt her. The last thing you wanted was for her to feel like you didn’t consider the pain she carried silently in regards to Ruben. It was a complicated situation that you were still trying to navigate internally.

Luckily, for the time being, you had the distraction of work. Erling’s project was on its finishing touches. You’d finalized the website and had it ready to launch, Aki aced securing a major partnership and Cindy was working with his assistant to put together a small launch party.

Did they buy the excuse about the “takeout”.

You bit down on a smile as your fingers typed quickly.

I think so. The leftovers in the fridge sold it more than I did.

“What’s got you all giggly?” Aki materialized at your door.

You jumped slightly, startled by not even hearing her approach. The messages app flicked shut and you placed your phone down before feigning business at your monitors.

“My mom sent me another one of those videos of her cat.” You replied with ease that shocked yourself.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. She did often send you videos of Jason being a weirdo. Your pseudo sibling had to be the most uncoordinated and ungraceful feline in existence. The latest snippet shared actually did come in this morning with him leaping up and completely missing a tree branch.

“That little guy is spectacularly peculiar.” Her lips pursed. Another white lie seemed to have passed.

“Tell me about it.” You chuckled. “What’s up?”

She slung dramatically across your guest chair. “Just wanted to know if you were burning the midnight oil again.”

Though certainly not her intention, her words made the ache between your thighs prominent to your senses. You squeezed them together and shut down the flashbacks running through your head as you shifted in your seat.

“I should actually try to rest since we have the party in two nights.” You exhaled lengthily.

It was well into the wee hours when you got home this morning, for obvious reasons. And for those same causes, or singular driver, you were too hopped up on adrenaline to fall straight asleep. It didn’t help that you were giggling on the phone with him like you were twelve either.

“Ugh, you’re right.” Aki groaned, shooting back on to her feet to exit. “About the party and the rest, by the way. Not even my emergency kit can rescue you from those eye bags. Luggage at this point.”

Before you could hurl a playful insult back or a pen from your desk, she made quick her escape. You shook your head and decided to actually start getting a move on your tasks for the day. Being snug under your blanket at a decent hour actually sounded like a fantastic idea.

After a nice, long soak in your bathtub, you threw on a onesie and a sheet mask to really activate the relaxation vibe.

The next order of business was finding something good to eat. As much as you wanted to start munching on those delicious chocolate covered ice ream bars in your freezer, you refrained until you could actually get a meal in your stomach.

Rifling through your fridge and pantry was kind of depressing. You’d been so busy recently that there wasn’t time to do a good grocery haul. Most of the food you ate had been acquired on the go and you wanted to cook for a change, but that didn’t look as if it was going to happen tonight.

You wouldn’t complain about ordering in though. Opening the takeout app was just as exhilaration as going on your favorite retail sites. There were so many options and all of your favorites were right at your fingertips.

Your mouth couldn’t help but water as you scrolled through to decide what your poison was going to be tonight. Just as you were looking through the offerings at an Italian place nearby, your phone screen was taken over by a call.

“What are you up to?” The smile in Ruben’s voice was audible.

“I was mid pasta hunt before you interrupted.” You tutted.

“That’s funny, I’m making some right now.” In the background, you heard a pan meeting a stovetop.

So, he was already back home then. You didn’t watch the match earlier, but you did check in on the result. It wasn’t a shock that his team had won given that they were so dominant in the sport - a fact you came to know rather belatedly.

“I can make enough for two, if you want.” Ruben continued.

“Extra cheese. I’ll be there soon.” You grinned before hanging up.

The sheet mask stayed on until the very last minute after you threw on some sweats. It felt like you were holding your breath as you left your loft. Aki wasn’t some overbearing friend that kept tabs on your comings and goings, yet you found yourself easing the door shut to minimize any alert of your exit.

It wasn’t a lie when you told her you wanted to turn in early tonight, you reminded yourself. That was actually the plan and you were halfway there. But when the pasta gods intervened, well, who were you to shun them?

Your car left the garage with Ruben’s address set on the navigation. He messaged it to you, making you laugh silently. Seeing it brought you back to what you guessed was the first tug on the string that unravelled everything. You’d known where he lived since his name popped up on Nike’s mailing list.

A short and smooth twenty minutes - more like fifteen since you kinda hit the gas - found you pulling into his parking garage. One thing he did provide that you needed to know was the code for entry. You took the guest spot beside his jeep and made your way inside.

“So, this is what making a shit ton of money will get you.” Your brows raised as he let you in.

“Mhm,” Ruben kissed you quickly. Then slower the second time. “Wait until you see the view.”

You jokingly gasped and followed the scent of aromatics to his kitchen. While your cooking skills were described as survivable at best, he always had a talent for putting together a really tasty dish. A moan sounded from you as you leaned over the steaming pan.

“I set the wine out on the balcony. Go get comfy, I’ll bring your plate.” He nudged your hips with his.

“Yes, sir.” You bit your lip and made your way over.

When you first stepped into his place, you thought the air was running but the exterior door was cracked. A wide grin broke of once you stepped outside to see the small setup with the admittedly impressive backdrop of the city. He’d turned on the lowlights and lit a few candles. A bottle of red was waiting for you as promised, along with a blanket folded over one of the seats.

You wrapped the thick, knitted fabric around your frame before pouring yourself a decent amount of wine. As you sipped, you took a deep breath and enjoyed the atmosphere. It must be one of his favorite ways to relax away from what seemed to be a hectic life these days.

“Are you comfortable?” Ruben appeared with your food, as promised.

You nodded, extending a hand to help him out. He joined in on your state of coziness and you poured him a glass too.

“Cheers.” He held his out.

“To what?” Your voice lowered.

“Being yours and getting to call you mine again.” Ruben placed a hand over your own.

You shook your head, calling him corny. but it was impossible to hide the way his words flustered you. It was nice to know that the years apart didn’t rob him of his ability to be so romantic. Also pleasant to note was that his cooking had gotten even better.

Your eyes widened as you took a bite of the chicken. It was juicy and perfectly seasoned. As if you couldn’t believe what you’d tasted, you went in immediately for a second bite with the pasta this time. Your palate was being blessed, objectively.

“I asked one of the team’s chefs for their recipe.” Ruben chuckled at your surprise.

“It’s so good.” You shimmed on your third chew.

Over your delicious meal, you asked him a series of questions that you were curious about. The first of them being whether or not this was a date. Of course. You apologized for being underdressed. Don’t be silly, we’re matching. That was true, those grey sweats of his…

Your mind refocused onto the impromptu Q&A. One thing you were definitely intrigued about was that first night you ran into each other. What was he doing in that area? That time of night and the lowkey look he wore honestly screamed leaving a booty call. If that was what it was, you couldn’t be mad.

“Some friends from back home were staying at a hotel nearby.” He answered. “I thought I was going crazy when I saw you running and called out but-”

“Headphones.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yes. And then it became a whole thing when you dropped your keys. Nice swing, by the way.” Ruben tipped his glass to you.

The compliment was returned, “Nice reaction time.”

“Tell that to my back.” He grumbled.

You wrapped up your meal and headed back inside to tidy things up. Ruben knew better than to object because if there was one thing you hated, it was leaving a kitchen a mess before heading to bed. The least you would settle for was rinsing everything and placing them in the dishwasher, which you did as his eyes followed.

“So,” You walked over to where he sat on a bar stool. “Are you gonna give me the grand tour?”

His lips curled as he hummed. “This place looks best in the morning.”

Your body found itself between his legs after he pulled you close. Ruben grinned mischievously before tilting forward to taste you. It was instant, the way you opened up for him. His teeth flashing in between your tongues meeting showed just how much he liked that.

“Are you implying something?” You spoke into his mouth.

“Maybe,” He breathed. “Should I just come out and say it?”

You nodded slowly, hands sliding up the the soft fabric covering his muscled thighs.

“Stay with me.”

“Okay-“

Your acceptance was barely completed before it was replaced with a yelp. Ruben stood up and lifted you into his arms. In the time it took you to get to his bedroom, you could’ve scanned around a bit to see a preview of what was to come in the morning. You were too focused on him though.

The prominent vein running along the side of his neck was begging to be kissed. So you pressed your mouth to it - lips parted and hungry. You felt him shudder under the licks and sucks you gave it and all too soon, you were detached to be placed on top of his sprawling bed.

Ruben crawled over you, lifting the back of your knee with his own to hitch your leg over his hips. You giggled into his hungry kisses and then moaned. A sneaky hand of his had made its way under your hoodie, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple as he massaged your breast.

You bit down on his bottom lip, bucking into him - already on the hunt for some kind of relief for your thrumming core. He used his lower half to pin you still. It only made your urge grow into agony, feeling the one thing you wanted most concealed by too many layers. When you tried a stealthy maneuver of your own, he was quick to catch it.

“Always so impatient.” Ruben tutted as he caught your wrist.

“Always such a tease.” You gave it right back.

He chuckled in a way that said I’m gonna make you eat your words. By God, you hoped he did sooner rather than later. You pressed your palms to the bed and pushed up. The silent request was thankfully met with him at least removing your top layer.

You caressed his head and let your back meet the sheets once more as he kissed down your body. Ruben stopped at the waistband of your sweats, giving it a pull between his teeth. A vexed moan sounded in your throat. He shushed you, curling his fingers into either side of your pants before dragging them down.

“Someone came prepared.” His comment came in response to your lack of underwear.

Your look of annoyance didn’t last long. It was swiftly replaced with one of bliss when you felt his mouth close around your pussy, tongue slicing you open for him to get a taste. He exhaled deeply through his nose and tugged you flush to his face.

“Yes, fuck-“ Your breath caught.

Ruben arched his tongue around your clit in a full circle before settling under to push it upwards. You writhed beneath him. The voice in your mind was chastising you as loudly as your body was crying out. It was never a good idea to challenge him.

He was easily the most competitive person you’d ever met, proving it yet again as he held your swollen bud up with a glint in his eye. Chipping away at your resolve. Waiting for your concession. You knew when to choose your battles.

“Please...” The shakiness in your voice really sealed the deal.

His tongue finally licked up your clit and then all over it on the way down. Your thighs locked him in while he gave it his undivided attention, thorough as ever to avoid missing a single spot. Each nerve in the bundle got its kiss, flick and suck.

There were no other sounds in the room besides your labored breaths and cries, his grunts and wet mouth growing drencher with your never ending slick. Your fingers threaded through his hair, pressing him deeper still.

It was right there. The torturously slow buildup preceding the crescendo. You just needed a bit more. Your hips rolled in circles, side to side and then up and down. When he slurped at your hole before twisting his tongue inside, they stilled. He knew he hit the target then and so he kept going.

You mouth stammered over your words as your body did the same in his hold. They were both saying the same thing nonetheless. Ruben spurred you on, a hand coming down on the side of your ass while his tongue kept lapping at your clit.

A guttural noise clawed its way out of you as you tensed and released into his lingering mouth all over again. Once you were reduced to nothing but limp muscles and jolts of aftershocks, he resurfaced.

“So good, baby.” Ruben leaned over to press his glistening lips to yours.

There was no trace left of him in the kiss. The insides of his cheeks, tops and bottoms of his gums and tongue all tasted of you. It sparked life back into your bones, a physical manifestation of what your glasses met over earlier.

Yours.

Mine.

In an unsuspecting move, you flipped him over until you were straddling his hips. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you dragged your drenched core slid over his hardened length. It was him that was left squirming beneath you this time, something you’d delight in if you hadn’t already been pushed over the ledge.

Ruben was in the same headspace. His eyes mirrored your own, nearly black with yearning. The layers of his clothing joined yours in a heap at his bedside. No underwear either. Your brows raised alongside your hips, someone was prepared.

A chorus of sighs and moans filled the air as you sank down onto his cock. Your head dropped back, hands pressing into his chest. The way his heartbeat ran wild under your fingertips made your lips tug.

To test your readiness, you arched your back. More glide than burn. You started building your rhythm, thighs tensing to help you move up and down. The more confident you became in taking him, the more your body loosened.

Your ass rolled like a wave, tempo rising each time your flesh came flush to his. Oh, God, you thought you heard him say. Actually, you were sure he’d said it. The way he looked up at you, hands moving to cup your breasts confirmed it.

Along with his noises and your own came the meeting of the back of your hips on the tops of his thighs. It was the only sound that ever made you understand the term music to my ears. You slammed harder, deeper, more pointed to draw even more of those notes out of his beautifully agape mouth.

His cock was a thing of wonder, the way it filled you up. So snug between your walls that you could feel the prominent vein running along its back as you worked him base to tip and back again. So intoxicating, your mind was stuck like glue on the feeling of how much of you he was coated in.

You folded forward, unsynchronized breaths mingling with his as you gave him a kiss that matched the same energy. A spell of confusion caused your compass to malfunction and made you lose your way. How was it even possible for him to feel this good?

Ruben was right there to guide you back as he so often had been before. His knees bent and his hands settled under your hips while his own raised into you. The vein in his neck swelled thick with rushing blood just like the one fucking into your pussy did with his seed.

Mine.

Yours.

The earth cracked and shattered and you quaked. His arms circled your waist tight, holding you as he weathered both of your storms. Everything around you crumbled and faded out of existence. For the next euphoric moments that followed, only you and him remained.

After a prolonged period of feeling the prick of his facial hair under your fingertips and his own running up and down your spine, he guided you to his shower. The water pressure offered a nice massage, but paled in effort to the relief his hands brought as they glided over your skin.

Ruben held the covers open for you to slip under, a call that would never go unanswered. You molded to him in a way that made you shudder. Your head rested in the crook of his arm that curled around your shoulders, a leg nestled snugly between his - not too spacious and not too compressed, just right.

You blinked slowly, lashes brushing his nearby skin. “Ruben?”

“Hm?” His chest rumbled.

“Promise me that even if this doesn’t last, things won’t end like they did before.”

He stopped breathing for a second and so did you. Back then, you probably would’ve said something like promise you won’t ever leave. You never thought to because you didn’t believe he ever would’ve.

Now, you realized the flaw in that sort of ask. If he said he wouldn’t and then he did, you couldn’t accuse him of lying. No one thought in the moments where they were deeply enamored with one another that they’d part, just as no one who got married for love would only do so to divorce.

Ruben inhaled again and tilted your face upwards, “I promise.”

Your eyes searched his for any trace of disingenuousness. When they were met with a steady, unblinking, challenging gaze, you were finally filled with ease. You kissed him gently and resumed your previous position.

“Besides,” He snuggled deeper into you. “If anything, you’re gonna have to get rid of me. I’ll be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and-”

You pressed a finger to his lips. “I get it. Go to sleep.”

For the first time in ages, you must’ve clocked in more than five hours of uninterrupted rest.

When your eyes peeled open, they were met with a fully lit sky instead of darkness or the murky beginnings of a sunrise. Your back bowed and then froze in position. Instead of being met with warmth, all you felt were cool sheets.

Just when you thought you might’ve lost Ruben to training or something, you heard rattling coming from the kitchen. There was also the faint scent of espresso drifting from under the door. You slid on his discarded sweatshirt from the pile that moved to his armchair and ventured out.

“There’s my beautiful chainsaw.” Ruben smiled as you appeared.

You smacked his bare back to earn a hiss, “I do not snore.”

“Only when you’re exhausted, love.” He handed you a steaming cup. “Did you sleep well?”

Your hand extended, beckoning to him. Ruben bent to meet it and melted under your fingertips that drew him near. You kissed him appreciatively, not wanting a moment to go by where you didn’t show him how grateful you were that he looked after you with care.

“I did.” You took a sip of your coffee and moaned. “Now where’s my tour?”

He shook his head with a grin and whisked you away to the entrance. In true social media giant with millions of followers style, he walked you through his apartment bit by bit. There was the coat closet, riveting and the guest rooms, very spacious. Then his bedroom which you’d already gotten very familiar with, he added.

All that was really left was the main open living space. What you were really interested in was his shelf and the mantle with all of his pictures, medals and awards. He explained the occasion and meaning behind each of them. Premier Leagues, domestic cups, bests of the season. You ran your thumb over the one you knew held the most meaning.

“Champions League…” Though you were infinitely proud of his achievement, your heart was heavy.

Ruben had spoken so much about it from the time when you were kids. He always knew that he was going to become a footballer, and a great one at that. This title was one he longed for vocally on many days.

“When I lift the trophy again,” He hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek. “You’ll be there with me.”

You nodded, wanting that dream to become a reality more than anything else. Well, besides being with him when he won the World Cup. At least that would be a first you got to experience together.

He took you back to the kitchen where he’d already started on breakfast. The toast was ready and after frying some eggs and adding slices of avocado, you both dug in. Such a simple meal that never missed the spot.

“So, Erling’s party is tomorrow night.” Ruben shot you a look.

Of course, the whole team was on the invite list you’d spied over Cindy’s shoulder. You knew what he was getting at and you also knew that it had to be today when you sat Aki down to have that conversation.

“I’ll tell her when I get back.” You promised.

“You don’t have to be nervous. She loves you, no matter what.” He reassured. “Me on the other hand…”

That was going to be the interesting part for sure. You wished you had some words to dispel his fears, but you both knew that they didn’t really exist. Her dislike for him was palatable, nearly a match for your mother’s - which was another bridge you certainly weren’t remotely ready to cross.

“One step at a time.” Was the best you could come up with.

It seemed to be good enough for Ruben, who approved with a half smile.

Wrapping up breakfast and trying to leave to actually get your day started was the hardest thing you’d done in recent memory. All you wanted to do was stay in this perfect little bubble with him - his arms caging you in, lips peppering your face, his deep voice begging five more minutes.

On days like this in the past, you would’ve easily played hooky and called in sick. Alas, that was when you were working for someone you honestly hated. Now that you had your own company, there was no room for letting your work fall behind since it all rode on you.

Ruben gave you one final searing kiss that took up the last of his allotted five minutes before you got into your car. The way you were beaming on the drive back to your place was kind of mortifying once you’d snapped out of your butterfly induced haze.

Almost immediately, it was replaced with sweaty palms and a racing heart. And not in the infatuation sense. You gave yourself a pep talk in the elevator as you headed up, remembering Ruben’s words. He was right and so were you, there was nothing to be afraid of.

Still, you found yourself tiptoeing once the lift got to your floor. You’d adopted his stalling tactic of promising that in just a bit more time, you would head over to hers. Maybe you should tidy up the place beforehand and -

“Ahem.”

You wanted to scream, but instead became that the woman was too stunned to speak meme. Aki was sitting cross legged on your sofa. She’d clearly been there for some time based off the empty plate and drained glass on the coffee table. It was now or never.

“I’ve got to tell you something.” You made your way over to join her.

“Spill! You’ve been acting weird for a while now.” She griped. “Are you having doubts about the business? Is the shitty weather making you moody? Wait…are you seeing somebody?!”

“Yes!” The answer to her rambling barrage came out louder than intended.

Aki stared at you wide eyed and then began going on another spiel, this time of excitement. You reeled her in, literally, by taking both her hands in yours. A silent version of the affirmations you gave yourself earlier ran through your head as you took a breath.

“I am seeing someone, again. Ruben.” You finally admitted. “I know that sounds fucking insane, but let me explain.”

Seeing Aki take on a serious expression was something you’d only experienced a handful of times. Not many things made her completely shed the upbeat, fun-loving layers she wore, but it wasn’t surprising that your revelation was now one of them.

She listened as you started from the day you went to City’s training grounds and the car ride that followed. It wasn’t the most cheerful conversation to rehash, both your emotions and his in that moment still tugging viscerally on your heart. Your gaze dropped for a second, returning to hers when you felt her hands give yours a reassuring squeeze.

The rest tumbled out painlessly. You told her about him coming to the office when you worked late, how you and him realized that trying things again was worth a shot. And then, of course, your absence from your loft from this morning was cleared up.

All that was left out were the parts about the sex, especially the office couch incident. She probably would appreciate not having that visual, though you were sure her powers of deduction would do the work for you.

“Wow, that’s definitely not what I was expecting.” Aki chewed on her bottom lip.

You digested her response with a nod, your head bowing. It was more than a lot to take in, so you weren’t surprised that she wasn’t throwing a parade in congratulations for you reunion with Ruben.

She untangled her hands from yours only to pull you in for a hug. “I know it wasn’t an easy decision and I wish you didn’t feel like you had to make it alone.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” You failed to hide your sniffle.

“Don’t be, I understand.” Aki pulled back, wiping your cheeks. “I only care about two things: are you sure about this and are you happy?”

Something like the grin you wore on your drive returned, “Yeah.”

She groaned and hugged you again, pulling you down to rest on top of her. Aki wrapped her legs around you, shaking your body side to side like she used to when you would try out the moves you’d seen on WrestleMania. You reached up to give her a peck on the cheek and she screamed, pushing you off.

“I bet you still have his spit in your mouth! Ew!” She scrambled from the sofa.

You ran after her, making kissy faces. “I thought you wanted me to be getting pounded religiously!”

That was enough to chase her right out of the front door.

#ruben dias #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias fic #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #being

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elmundodeflor · 1 month

Text

And just like that, she’d fallen for him.

Spring. Summer. Autumn. The world had its cycles. There had been peace before war, and peace would come after bloodsheds and battles.

Katara looks at Zuko, at how he stares out to the width in the horizons. The curves of his nose and lips are soft, much like the colors of the leaves around them. The lines of his jaw and cheeks are sharp, in contrast.

He’s a beautiful man; she’s always thought so, even when they were enemies and he’d sworn he’d kill them. She likes it better this way, though— being friends, confidants, long-time companions. Kindness suits him more, either way. She likes how his face looks when he’s calm, — when there’s no rage to contort his scar, no scowl furrowing his brow.

She also likes that he knows her. That they can stand, silence pending between them, and it’s never too tense or uncomfortable. Zuko is just that good to her. He never puts too much pressure on her shoulders, — she’s had enough of that already. Instead, he soothes the rough edges. Lets her make her own choices and never judges her for them.

He looks back at her. An easy smile grazes his features; baffling, tortuous, beautiful. Katara has to fight the urge to freeze some water from her bottle and smash it across her searing face.

“Do you wanna…”, his voice cuts through the wind, raspy as it ever was. When he talks, it’s evident that he’s nervous. That he’s been circling around his thoughts and can’t seem to find the words. “I mean…”, he tries again. “Do you wanna stay here until you decide what to do?”

She hums, then turns her gaze back to the gardens. Aang had asked her to travel the world along with him, — to be by his side and help other people, from other nations and villages. She had yet to give him a proper answer.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to— go on missions, hear the masses’ suffering and be present in whatever way she could. Maybe, it was that she simply had pictured something different for herself. She could be so much more than just the “Avatar’s girl”! She could go home, lend a useful hand to Sokka and her dad advocating for their tribe. She could be an ambassador.

She could be with Zuko.

She can imagine the whole thing all too well, actually, — being on the palace, with him, until she could confront Aang about what to do. They could go for an evening stroll, feed turtleducks by the lake. Zuko’d make tea way past dinner time, and she’d laugh along with Suki when he’d burn his tongue by the first sip.

“There’s nothing I’d like more.”, she tells him, then. They are in one of the many balconies, staring out at the sun. The last scraps of summer have flushed with the breeze, and now the trees look all kinds of reds, yellows, oranges. Almost like they’ve caught on fire.

Zuko smiles at her again. A shy, wonderful thing that makes his eyes glint. His hair’s shaggy and overgrown, and falls limp between the honey of his irises. His cheeks burn a bright pink that, Katara deduces, might be from the gentle light warming up their faces.

“Okay.”, he says. He likes this, as well, — having her around. That he can open up to someone he can share his scars with, both the physical and the ones that lay underneath.

Katara inches close to him, just enough so that their elbows nudge together. The world has its cycles, she believes. Blue skies bleed into the darkness of the night. Ice defrosts when heated-up. And just like that, she’d fall for Zuko— delicate, and raw, and over and over. Helpless, like the moon that carries down the tides. Hopeless, like the autumn leaves that fall, ever so slow, and now gather at their feet like sea-foam.

“Okay.”

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callsignmarz · 3 months

Text

MDNI |18+| König x Reader

TW- slightly suggestive, explicit language & sexual content.

“Prisoner Of War”

“Du bist gut, Schatz. But, I’m better.”

(You are good, Dear.)

For years, you’ve been on König’s radar.

You were quite the problem.

Always two steps ahead and leaving pandemonium behind.

What was supposed to be a simple contract ended up being a diverting game of cat and mouse. Admittedly, the hunt was exhilarating. It wasn’t everyday he encountered someone with your set of skills.

Unpredictable. Cunning. Dangerous.

But, needless to say, all games must come to an end.

His boots scuffed the asphalt, slowly pacing with his hands clasped behind his back, savoring the celebratory taste of victory like it were an old fashioned cocktail. The steel blue gaze that peered underneath his sniper hood, did nothing compared to the metal cuffs chafing your wrists raw.

“Es tut mir Leid, wunderschön. (I’m sorry, beautiful.)”

His tone full of mockery. “I had to ensure you weren’t going anywhere.”

A disdainful scoff pushes past your lips in response, your legs cross with confident ease. “Why, afraid you’ll never see me again and miss me too much?”

Despite the many encounters, König had forgotten that smart ass mouth of yours. It always did something to him. Never once in the years he’s worked as a mercenary, has anyone ever talked to him in such a manner.

Only you.

“Such insolence…” He snarled, forging his tone with disgust as he circled back to stand behind you with his eyes boring into the back of your head. “Did you forget who graced you by sparing your pitiful life or do I need to remind you?”

Your lips pursed at the very question with the memory of your humiliating defeat thrown back in your face.

Vexation spindles within as you dwell on how you were so blinded by arrogance that it left yourself wide open, practically handed him the win.

Just to prove a point, the thick metal chains rattle when König’s large hands suddenly slammed down on either side of you with his body pressing against your back, caging you in nothing but pure muscle and authority.

“I believe I asked you a question, Schatz. (Dear.)”

König’s voice sunk to a low octave as he slouched down, the fabric of his hood lightly brushes the outer part of your ear and you feel the warmth of his breath through the material, completely electrifying your nerve endings.

In turn, he couldn’t help but notice how tame you’ve become. A flicker of unwarranted desire reflects in König’s eyes as they trail the column of your throat, a conquering smile crept onto his face when he saw you swallow, a negligible detail that only a keen eye would catch.

“Sag mir nicht, dass du nervös bist. (Don't tell me you're nervous.)” König purrs.

“Don’t make me fucking laugh…” You hissed out with potent venom.

The moment your head snaps to the side, König’s hand instantaneously latched onto your jowl with a firm grip, wedging a breath in your throat as he forcibly tilted your head back to meet with his imperious gaze.

“I warned you about this filthy little mouth of yours.”

The air sprouts with pending venereal tension when his pointer finger glides over to tantalize your plumped bottom lip. Your panties pool when he inserts his finger into your mouth, your mind shuts off and your body takes over as you begin to steadily suck. König’s chest vibrates in amazement yet he fascinated by your brazen behavior.

Your tongue swirls expertly around while bobbing your head to take in each digit in a rhythmic trend, his muscles flexed at the sensation of you gagging from the length of his finger, driving it deeper into the back of your throat.

“Fucking whore.”

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00127am · 2 months

Text

signed with love and forever yours, renjun

postage. huang renjun & gn! reader, implied enemies (pride and prejudice coded), mentions of kissing cost to ship. 834 words

the day after you told me you loved me, i felt as if i've been blind my whole life. as if, after your confession, rose colored glasses had slipped upon my eyes to permanently rest on the bridge of my nose. to paint everything in sight with such a vibrance, vitality, that i swear i had never seen it before. though the doctors will say i have never been blind nor colorblind, that i have been able to see everything to the full extent of the human capacity, i will attest that it was you who granted me the ability of sight for the first time.

even before your concession, i found you in everything. hiding between the pages of my favorite books, seeping into every shade of my paints, infiltrating and consuming every corner and nook in my brain and body so that there was no place in which you were unable to execute the jurisdiction of your dictatorship. it's something so utterly irritating that it drove me up the wall and then some, convinced this was one of your numerous ways to get underneath my skin.

perhaps if i stopped to think, to consider why you seemed to be drowning out every other aspect of my life--leaving only thoughts, dreams, and fantasies of you behind in your wake--why you are able to slip underneath my skin and weave such a tender waltz through the strings of my heart--then i would have written this letter much sooner. certainly before your own proclamation.

i am sure now that i have never experienced love or any such iteration of infatuation towards anyone other than you. a feeling so utterly foreign and inordinate that it feels bittersweet on my tongue. scraped off with a drag of my teeth and a reluctant reciprocation stuck in the back of my throat. an ardent admission that i'm afraid you would find to be more bitter than sweet.

i'm not good with my words. and i'm not good with you. so it's only fitting that it's this letter that will return my the full effect of my affections back to whom they belong as i muster up any semblance of courage to speak them out loud. so in the meantime, read this as many times as it takes before i tell you in person. so that perhaps you can meet my confession with a kiss and i'll be rewarded for each and every humiliating detail written in record for you to keep (though even if you held them over my head, i find myself unable to even care--so endeared to everything you do, a degree of which makes me grit my teeth).

i love you and love you more. more than any words written here can express and much more than i'd care to admit. so wait for me and my confession in hopes that i'll be able to properly express just how much i love you. a love that gifted sight and a weight on my chest that proves to be much more fatal than any ailment of the heart.

forever (and unwillingly) yours,

about renjun's love letters.

renjun's handwriting is messy and sharp, every word pressed deep into the paper. written with such strong emotions (of both love and vexation) and in what seems to be such a hurry to spit the words out onto the page that he nearly ruins the letter in the process. every consonant and vowel is written in a way that can only be described as raw, unfiltered and rushed. straight from his heart to yours, sometimes with an attempt for a roundabout omission--one which does nothing to hide the full extent of his adoration.

he writes on crumpled, tattered paper. with holes and scratched out words, flowing into scratched out lines, sometimes paragraphs. often unreadable, you tease, but in truth perhaps you enjoy reading them over and over and over again until even the words laying dormant beneath scrawled, etched scribbles feel as if they've been carved into your flesh--all with the excuse of legibility.

to others, the state of his letters may appear as a lack of care. for what lover sends you their affections that look as if they have been to hell and back, pages that seem to hold niceties beneath crass adjectives and loathing sentiments. only to be found through wrinkled lines and harshly illustrated remarks. but these roughened letters are slipped within perfectly creased envelopes, sealed with a kiss (covered by a thin strip of tape), and covered with the numerous efforts of his artistic handiwork. there's a care for them to get to you safely. a care for you to read what he truly has to say, his unadulterated feelings (unconsumed by trivial allegories of love) that are poured out through every messy line of prose. even if his letters are signed with a reminder that every bit of his love towards you is unintended (and yet, he would never trade it for any fortune or feeling in the world).

your mailbox

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @sour-chaos @jenaisnte thank you for supporting me! ♡

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astr0-physcs · 2 months

Note

Reiner braun x male reader x jean kirschstein plz 🙏

And it's very much nsfw 🙃

mission(ary)

-Reiner Braun x Jean Kirschstien x m!Reader

-WC: 5k (wdym 5k...)

-Warnings!

Threesome, nipple play, oral, unprotected sex, praise, degradation

-A/N!

girl i am so so sorry this is so late. school is raw dogging me in the ass right now 💀 they might be ooc but i haven't watched AOT in so long, girl pls i'm so sorry

‼️NSFW under the cut‼️

The sun rose over the horizon bathing the cadets in a golden glow. Every morning started this way, all the cadets lined up, waiting for their orders. Captain Levi stood before them, the rising sun to his back. You stood next to Sasha, you both were standing shoulders back, fist over heart, eyes forward towards the Captain. Finally he broke the silence that had fallen over the group.

"Marco, you are heading into the Trost district with Sasha to make a supply run. Under Commander Erwin's name, there is a shipment.”

The cadets gave a quick nod, not moving from their place in line.

“Alright. Mikasa, you will look after the horses.” One more quick nod.

“Annie, Bertolt, and Armin. Refill the gas chambers for ODM equipment.” Everyone nods in agreement.

"Eren." A beat of silence.

"Yes, Captain?" he responded shifting slightly

“Cleaning duty.”

A look of pain appeared on Eren's face. Nevertheless he agreed. A few people in the group snickered.

Levi went on to the next assignment.

"Y/N, Jean, Reiner, Ewrin’s office. Special task for you.”

You swallow uneasily. Typically, such missions required venturing outside the walls. The captain moves on when you give him a nod. The recruits scatter when the Caption allows them to.

Reiner and Jean move from the other side of the line to you. A shadow fell over you from the two big men. Together you and the other two men walked to Ewrin’s office in pending silence.

You take the initiative to knock on the door and Erwin's calls for you to enter.

"Cadets," he utters from his desk. You approach his desk with Jean and Reiner on your tail.

"Take a seat." He gestures toward the chairs in front of his desk. With some hesitation, you take a seat, followed by the other two soldiers.

"You have been given a scouting assignment by Captain Levi and myself." Ewrin said, laying a roughly drawn map out on his orderly desk.

"You will leave at noon and end up here in the forest,” Erwin said, pointing to a marked spot on the map. “ Then you will need to be back here by noon tomorrow. You will then take note of where the nearest titan is. Also, you will need to get your supplies from the cadets who are in charge of the ODM gear.”

You give a respectful nod.

“I wish you cadets luck.” Ewrin said, getting to his feet and giving the cadets the salute.

The three of you quickly rise to your feet and return his salute.

Together, you exclaim, "Thank you, Commander, Sir!"

Silently, the three of you leave his office and head towards the gear room. You didn't know Jean and Reiner as well as you wanted to, and they were uncomfortable with each other. To put it mildly, it was awkward. The entrance to the gear room was opened by the three of you.

"Hey-"

"Armin, my friend!" Jean said, walking confidently towards the blonde.

Startled, Armin looked up, and dropped the gas canister he was holding. The sound of the metal hitting the hardwood floor echo off the stone walls. The room had been a dining room and was quite big. A large wood table and many wooden chairs that matched the dark oak of the table were set aside in the corner to make room for the gear supplies. A large chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. This was still the only other source of light for the room, although it was covered in spiderwebs. Levi hasn't found it yet. Now the room was filled with ODM gear and shelves of grappling hook holsters. Armin recovered quickly, and picked up the runaway gas can.

“Armin, stop dropping stuff.” Said Annie from the other side of the room, where she was inserting some ODM. Armin nervously laughed and placed the gas into the gear. You and Reiner stepped into the room.

“Hi, Armin.” You say joining Jean in front of the small blonde man, sitting on the ground. He smiles back at you.

“Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you were talking to Commander Erwin?”

You nod. “Yeah, we were-”

“Yeah we did. Told us to go scouting.” Jean interrupted, rolling his eyes. “We need ODM gear.”

You glare at Jean, before turning back to Armin and saying “Can we please get ODM gear?”

"Oh, yes, definitely. Let me get you set up.” He looked anxiously at Annie and Bertolt, who were talking with Reiner.

"H-Hey Annie,can you help me get them ready?” He asked, getting to his feet.

Annie nodded once in agreement before walking over to the back to fetch the gear suits. Bertolt followed after a brief conversation with Reiner, and the blond returned to you and Jean.

"Thank you Armin." You called after him. Annie and Bertholdt return with three sets of suits and give one to each of you. You slide on the leather and tighten the straps until the outfit fits tightly around your waist. Annie and Armin grab the gas canisters, while Bertolt takes the grappling hook holders.

They move around you three, attaching the hefty metal to your waistbands. "Alright. You are all set. Good luck." Armin offers you a tentative smile. You give him a kind smile back. Jean taps your shoulder and you guys exit the building.

Mikasa stood outside with three horses, well equipped for the journey. You walk up to your horse, her name is Hope. She was a deep brown horse with a long black mane. Mikasa had gotten the saddles on all the horses and packed the bags on the side with food, water, tents, and other survival gear. You did a quick check of everything to make sure nothing was missing. The other two did the same checks as Mikasa watched on.

"Thank you." Reiner spoke, once he had checked everything and patted his house a bit. Mikasa nodded and reached up for her scarf. You turn to pet the horse, and Levi approaches you.

“I believe Erwin has already informed you, but you three are going to go to the border outside the walls and mark the location of the nearest titan. You are to return by noon tomorrow. Understood?”

The three of you saluted to Levi. “Yes Captain!”

He nods in acknowledgment. “Good luck cadets.” The Captain turns away and you relax your stance. Hopping up into the horse's saddle, you pet the horse and turn around to secure your equipment. Mikasa stood nearby, hand in her scarf. Jean turned around and said goodbye, and you and Reiner waved. Whipping the reins of the horse, you turn around and follow Jean to the exit of camp.

The ride to Wall Maria wasn't unbearable. You and Jean made some commentary, with quick inputs from Reiner.

“Okay, now that we're outside the safety of camp, everyone needs to keep an eye out for titans. We can't let our guard down.” Jean says

Reiner sighs. “ Jean, we get it. You don't need to remind us about the titans.”

You giggle and roll your eyes playfully. “Seriously, it's like you're trying to scare us”

Jean huffs. “Just tryna make sure everyone is alert, that's all.”

“Says the guy who can't keep his eyes off somebody's body for five minutes…” You mumble, smirking slightly. Jean whips his head around at you. “The fuck you'd just say to me?”

“Guys please. Can we just stick to the job-?” Reiner sighs.

“At least when I speak, I have important things to say. You just yap yap yap.” Jean shoots back.

You shake your head. “Jean, you're making this worse by arguing.”

“You're the one who started it!”

You hide the smirk threatening to appear. “Hey, I'm just saying what we're all thinking here.”

Reiner now turns to the two of you. “Can we not take things personally and focus on the mission here?”

“And why don't you mind your business? Not your fight here, pal.” Jean glares at Reiner, who side eyes him back.

“Jean, calm down. You're acting dumb right now.”

“I'm perfectly calm!” Jean shouts not so calmly.

You giggle. “Yeah keep telling yourself that, tough guy…”

Jean opened his mouth to speak, but in that moment, Reiners horse reared up, clearly spooked. Reiner yelped and slid off the horse and onto the ground. The horse bolted and Reiner groaned, shaking the mud off of his uniform.

Jean lets out a snort and the two of you burst into laughter, doubling over at the sight.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up you two…” Reiner grumbled, but a small smile appeared on his face. He wipes off the mud that got onto his clothes, and sighs.

“Let's go get your horse.” You say, still laughing.

The poor horse was off near one of the damaged houses, munching on grass. You and Jean grin as Reiner goes and tries to calm the horse. You notice how softly he pets the horse's nose and sighs softly. The animal nudges the blonde's hand a little and his smile returns softly.

Once Reiner hops back onto the horse again, the rest of the traveling was smooth sailing. Jean made quips at you, you argued back and Reiner tried to mediate, but gave up about halfway through.

The sky turned a milky orange hue with few clouds by the time the three of you made it to the designated camp site. You lead your horse to the nearby forest, with a small stream nearby for the animals to drink from. The cover of the forest protected you from being seen by the massive Titans. Reiner grabs the tent from his horse and lays it out on the forest floor.

“Alright. Who wants to help put up the tent and who wants to search for wood?” Reiner asks, standing up from where he was kneeling next to the tent.

“I'll go! I'm a very good wood finder.” Jean said confidently, hands on his hips.

“I'm sure you are…” You snickered. Jean glared at you.

“Ha ha, very funny.”

Your smirk widened. Glancing over to Reiner, your smile turns from devilish to slightly confused. Reiner appeared also confused, his dark hazel eyes flickering between the two of you.

“Reiner?”

“I don't get it.” He says bluntly. Jean grins wide.

“Looks like you're up!” He says, harshly patting your shoulder. His touch lingered a little too long, but it's not like you noticed, too busy being flushed with embarrassment at explaining the joke.

“S-so. Um. Y’know how sometimes people refer to… to dick-”

“Stop. I am sick of dick jokes.” Reiner held up his hand, his face twisting into annoyance and disgust. “You two have made so many dick jokes I wonder if your own dicks are a joke.”

You and Jean furrowed your eyebrows. “Hey!” you spoke simultaneously, then glared at each other.

“I bet you're right about Jean. I mean, the taller the man, the smaller the dick.”

Jean looked appalled. “Where in the world did you learn that?”

“A textbook,” you shrugged. “Maybe you would know that information if you decided to give reading a try.”

“Oh, you little-” Jean started forward, but Reiner braced an arm against his chest.

“ Jean, you're making yourself look stupid again. Go get firewood before it gets dark and you trip over yourself.”

Jean rolls his eyes dramatically. “Oh, for fucks sake…” He mutters. You impishly grin and he flips you off.

“Jean.” Reiner says. Jean groans and trudges off into the forest. You giggle and turn back to Reiner.

“Alright, you get to help me put up this tent.” He kneels down next to the camouflage tent. You lean down next to him and he hands you part of the tent, spreading the tent on the clearing. Reiner grabs metal stakes and poles, setting up the tent with ease and practice. You smile at him warmly, but miss the way his ears go red.

The sun began to dip into the mountains, casting a deep sienna color across the forest. Clouds turn a watery hue of pink and red, the forest beginning to cool down. Jean came back with wood, and set them down unceremoniously. He grinned at you and Reiner, placing his hands on his hips.

"Wood!" he exclaims. You nod.

"Very good observation, Jean." You say as if you were talking to a toddler.

He drops his hands and glares at you.

"Hey, set up the fire, why don't you?" Reiner interrupts, preventing Jean from opening his mouth to argue. Jean scoffs, so you stick your tongue out at him. You walk over to your horse and grab your knife and matches. Walking back to the small fire ring you had already created while Jean was getting firewood, you kneeled down and slipped the wood using your knife, then gathered the small slithers into a teepee shape. Looking around the fire ring, you found pine needles and dead leaves, the perfect heat starter. You grab as many as you can and place them inside your little wood teepee.

You strike a match and place it inside the teepee and watch as the dead pine needles and leaves go up in flames and burn quickly. As the wood you placed began to burn you added more until you had a good sized fire.

You squat down next to the fire and wrap your arms around your knees.

“What time do you think we should get up to mark the titans location?” Jean asks behind you. You don't turn, enjoying the warmth of the fire against your skin.

“Dawn. The cloud coverage will be good for us.” Reiner answers. The blond comes into your vision and sits next to you. “Nice fire you've made.”

You smile. “Thanks, Reiner.” He smiles back at you.

“Hey, I got that wood, yknow!” Jean marches in front of you, fists clenched by his sides. You glance up with a smirk.

“Yeah sure, but who lit the match and cut the branches after you oh so graciously dumped them here?” Jeans mouth opened like a fish out of water. He glanced around, trying to think of something else to say.

“W-Well… That, that may be true, but…” the brunette stammers. You raise your eyebrows. “But..? But what, Jean?”

Jean narrows his eyes, still trying to counter you. Finally, he shuts his eyes and sits down, irritated. You giggle softly, and Reiner smiles softly.

“Let's get dinner ready.” Reiner stood up and grabbed some prepackaged food from his bag. He tossed Jean a package, while gently handing yours to your outstretched hands. He then hands you a pot to boil the water. Once the water gets to a boil, you tear open the food and pour the hot water in, then you pour the water into the other boys packs too. Once it cooks and cools you enjoy the chicken and rice.

Finished with your meal, you hum happily. “Not bad for a prepackaged meal!”

Jean hums next to you, and you glance over. His eyes sparkle, the orange firelight dancing in his irises. He was looking at you like you were the only moment that mattered right now. Questions bubbled up in your chest, and you opened your mouth to speak. Reiner coughed, and you weren't sure it was coincidental. You catch his eye, and shut your mouth in shock. Reiners icy gaze was narrowed sharply. You shift your confused gaze back to Jean, who was still looking at you gently, orange firelight flickering in his eyes. He seemed to catch on to the tension Reiner was causing, but remained silent. The only sound that was emanating was the flickering of fire and the snapping of heated wood.

Reiner finally spoke, his voice thick and intense. “Did you want to say something?”

You reeled back, slightly stunned at his tone. Blinking, you shake your head no. His gaze doesn't shift, and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. After a heartbeat, Reiner slowly looks away from you. Your heart beat in your chest and you take a deep breath. Turning back to Jean, you notice that the brunette’s eyes haven't moved off of your face. Your cheeks heat up softly and you clear your throat.

“We should get ready for bed.” Reiner spoke again, spooking you. You look at him again, expecting a cold sharp gaze again. His blue eyes were softer than before, but he held your gaze with the same intensity.

“Yeah, yeah. You're right.” You say, standing up and brushing off the crumbs on your lap. Jean stands too, his focus still on you. Reiner watches you as you move around the fire, cleaning up after yourself. Then you put out the fire, making sure every spark was out. You move to your horses, who are sitting softly on the grass. You grab the sleeping bag that Mikasa provided and turn to Jean. “Where do you wanna sleep?”

“You're sleeping in the middle.” Reiners gruff voice called. You turn around, looking at him.

“Me or Jean?”

“You.” He said bluntly, his gaze focused on the supplies on his horse. You blink.

“That works for me.” Jean says calmly. You turn back to him. “Oh, alright. I'll go set up.” You walk to the tent and kneel down, entering inside. You roll out your bag and unzip it, waiting for Jean and Reiner. The blonde opens the tent and enters, making prolonged eye contact with you. You swallow nervously and glance away. Jean follows suit, entering the tent and smiling at you. The blonde rolls out his bag on your right, while Jean sets his things down on your left.

You begin unpacking your things, and notice both male gaze as you do so. Blush runs to your cheeks, but you don't look at either of them.

You set everything you needed to out for the night, and glance silently at your comrade. His gaze had fallen to the floor, the soft pink dusting his cheeks making him appear more genuine than before, when you two were arguing. He opens his mouth and closes it, like he was gathering the courage to say something.

“Good night.” Was the words that came out of his mouth. You smile softly. “Night Jean.” Turning to Reiner you repeat yourself. “Night, Reiner.”

Good night, Y/N.” he mumbled, his back already facing you. You lay down in your bag, not bothering to zip it up all the way on either side. Your eyes turned up to the tent ceiling. The heat of the dying fire radiated into the tent, and your heartbeat slowed.

You hear Jean turning around next to you, and you're suddenly aware of how cramped this tent actually is. His leg kicks out gently from the bag and sneaks into yours. You brush it off as an accident, dismissing the electric feeling that sparked through your body.

But then you felt his chest against your back. Your eyes shoot open. Gently, you try to shove him off and back into his own bag, but his calloused hands wrap around your waist.

“Jean…?” You whisper. Jean doesn't make a sound, instead pulling you closer. His breath was warm against your neck, and you shudder softly. His body curves against yours, cradling you with no escape.

“Jean-” You whisper again, but his thumb presses against your lips, silently shushing you. Your mind reels at how close he is, and how hot his fingertips seem to be. His other hand begins roaming down your body, slipping up your shirt and gently caressing your abdomen.

Finally, Jean speaks. His voice is rough and thick with lust. “Tell me to stop, baby.”

Your cheeks heat up. Your body was reacting to the brunette’s wandering hands, shuddering and relaxing in his heat. You let your eyes shut, losing yourself in his hold. His hand on your abdomen reached higher and higher, until the pad of his finger was circling your nipple. A small, barely audible wine leaves your throat and Jean smirks against your nape. The hand on your lips slowly snuck down to your neck, holding you possessively. You whine again, and Jean pinches your nipple. You gasp and arch slightly, your ass pressing into his pelvis. He groans and nips your skin softly. Suddenly, he raises your tan shirt up to your collarbones, exposing your entire chest to the night air. You gasp again, slightly louder this time. Jeans' strong hand coaxes your neck to fall onto his shoulder, pressing your back into a perfect arch. You bite your lip and Jean tug your sensitive bud again. Another noise, a whine, escapes your mouth. Jean pressed his mouth against your neck, sucking. Your body writhes, your dick slowly getting harder.

“Jean…” You choked out a whisper.

“Yes, baby?” He spoke slowly in return.

Abruptly, Reiner turned over to you, hazel eyes sharp.

“Could you keep-” His voice stops short at the sight of you, back pressed into an arch and chest exposed. “What…?” His voice lost its irritated edge, softening at the erotic scene laid out before him.

Embarrassment floods your body, your face turning red. You try to curl out of the arch Jean has you pressed in, but a solid bite on your neck makes you stop.

“Fuck…!” You squeak out, hands trying to cover your body. Jean takes his fingers off your nipple and smacks your hand away.

“Jean, wait…” you plead quietly.

“I think somebody likes the show. You wanna show off for him?” He murmurs in your ear. He lets you tilt your head enough to look at Reiner. The blonde was watching intently, mouth slightly agape. His blue eyes were hazed over slightly, and his cheeks were flushed pink. You suddenly felt very self conscious about your chest being exposed, but Jean pulled you back into the arch he had you in. His fingers ghost over your nipple again, before tugging harshly. You squeal, your hips rutting softly against nothing.

“You want a taste?” Jean asked, loudly enough for Reiner to hear. Jean twists your neck softly and presses a kiss to your lips. He breaks away, then slots his mouth between yours. His tongue wrapped around yours, and he bites your lip, tugging it before pulling away.

Reiner shifts again, not knowing what to do with his body. Jean slides his mouth down your neck again, lightly biting and kissing your heated skin.

“Can I…?” Reiner said softly, his breath bated. Jean releases your neck so you can look at him with half lidded eyes. You nod, biting your lip. “Y-yea…” You moan again and Jean tugs your nipple again. Reiner breathes out softly and moves a hand tentatively to your other bud. He pinches it softly and you whine.

“Do… Do you like that?” Reiner breathes. You open your mouth to respond, but it ends up as a high pitched moan. Jean tugged on your tit harshly.

“Course he does. I mean, just listen to the way he moans.” He says, holding your nipple out for a minute before relaxing it. “Give it a try.”

Reiner swallows, fingers still resting on your chest. He gives a tug, and your hips jerk in the air. Breathy moans escape you, no longer trying to stay quiet. Reiner shifts his body closer, and leans down. He looks up at you, carnal desire threatening to take over. He presses his mouth to your bud and bites gently. An erotic whine erupts from your mouth, and your hips jerk. Everything was so hot, you could barely stand it. Your hand goes out to palm Jean through his pants and he groans quietly.

“Want these off, baby?” He whispers into your neck.

“Yes, fuck-! Y-yes, please…” You whine. Jean snickers. “Such a polite boy. How could I possibly refuse?” Jean’s hand on your chest slid down to his pants, undoing the zipper and sliding them down. You could feel every movement, his body pressed right against you. “You too, pretty boy.” He whispered. Reiner moved his hand to the bud Jean had abandoned, and gave it a harsher tung. You moan again and whine and the blonde’s tongue swirled around the sensitive tit.

Jean slid his hand down your pants, undoing the zipper and sliding off the restraining material. Your body shudders, now being nearly completely exposed to the night air. Your dick was hard and practically leaking. Reiner suddenly left your chest and slid up to you.

“Sit up.” He said bluntly. Jean let go of your body so you could slide out of the sleeping bag. You gave Reiner a hazy quizzical look, but your confusion disappeared when he sat up too, grabbed your waist, and spun you around, back to his chest. Reiner pulled your shirt over your arms and head, then pressed you against his body. His hands go back to tugging your chest and you throw your head back, unable to silence your moans.

Jean smirks and places himself in between your legs. “Open up, baby.” He said, then gently spread your legs apart. Your leaking dick stood at attention, angry red and leaking pre cum.

“Damn, fuckin’ gorgeous dick youve got.” Jean whistled lowly.

“Th- Thank- ah-! Thank you…!” You spoke in between whines. Jean wrapped his hand around your dick and pumped a few times, eliciting a pornographic moan from you. Your hips stuttered, trying desperately to fuck yourself in Jean’s hand.

Reiner leaned down to your ear. “Desperate, are we? Such a slut…” He muttered. His words went straight to your dick, and your body jerked. Jean pressed the flat of his tongue against your cock and a string of whines fell from your lips. You nearly arched off on Reiner as Jean took your entire dick at once. The hot walls around your dick made your balls tighten.

“W-wait, gonna-” You try to warn, before Jean hollows his mouth at the same time Reiner pinches your nipples. Hot cum exploded in the brunette's mouth, and you nearly screamed. Jean swallowed and smirked, before rising up to make out with you.

“Taste yourself.” He said before sliding his mouth against yours. Bitter cum flooded your taste buds, but you were too fucked to care. Jean broke away and gently pried your body off on Reiner.

“Ass up, slutty.” Jean said with a smile. His hand presses you into a perfect arch, your tight hole displayed for Reiner.

“Shake your ass.” Jean said again, and you wiggle your ass gently. Reiner smacked it hard, and you jolted forward with the force. Jean pressed his cock to your lips, smirking. “Be a good boy and return the favor, hm?”

You open your mouth, letting your tongue roll out. Reiner pressed his precum slicked cock against your ass and you whined. He shoves himself in, and you fall onto Jean with a breathy whine. You could nearly feel the blonde in your throat, if it weren't for the actual dick reaching your esophagus. Your eyes roll back as the pleasure, your dick leaking again.

“Gooood fuckin boy. Tight hole you've got.” Reiner groans.

Jean’s wolfish grin returns again. “You a virgin, honey?”

You nod softly, tears falling down your cheeks as you gag on Jean. He barks a laugh and thrusts down your throat. You choke and gag, spit running down your chin. Reiner grabs your hips and begins pistoning into you.

“Fuck, fuck fuck…” The blonde muttered as he hammered into your prostate repeatedly. Jean leans back, the force of Reiner’s thrusts enough to move you on his dick. You nearly lose yourself in the pleasure, feeling their dicks twitch with each thrust and gag. Your dick spurts all over again, your hole clenching around Reiner.

Jean coos at you. “Doing such a good job. ‘M gonna cum down your throat, alright?” You don't heat him, the sound of Reiner behind you too loud and graphic.

“Fuck, close, baby. Lemme cum inside, okay?” Reiner says, and slaps you on the ass again when you don't respond. You jolt forward and whine hoarsely in agreement. Reiner twitches once, twice, before he buries himself to the hilt inside you. He pressed you to the base of Jean, who threw his head back and moaned as he came in your mouth. You suck him clean as he stares at you, panting hard.

Jean grabs your head and gently pulls you off his dick, smiling at your fucked out expression. Reiner pulls out and wipes his dick on your ass poorly before tucking himself back into his pants. You collapse, exhausted. Jean laughs fondly, and you pass out right there.

The last thing you remember is big hands shifting you back into your sleeping bag, the soft sound of the zipper and two kisses pressed against your forehead.

The next morning you woke to sunlight. You blinked, and immediately jolted out of bed. You thought you had missed your only task, marking down the Titans. You wince as you try to move, your ass throbbing. Suddenly, the tent unzipped and Jean poked his head in.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Don't worry, we marked down the Titan’s location.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, nearly plopping down back into your bag.

“Did you get enough beauty sleep?” Jean asks.

“Yeah, no thanks to you two. My ass hurts. How the fuck am i supposed to ride back to camp?” you complain.

Jean rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Figure it out yourself. I'm not the one who got bred in the ass last night.”

You glare at him. “Yeah cuz you don't have an ass. Flat as a board.”

Jean gasped. “You mother-”

“Good morning, Y/N. I hope you slept alright.” Reiner shoved Jean out of the way, who yelped. You smile. “I did, thank you.” Reiner smiled back.

“Good. We're packing up now. If you need a cushion, I can give you my cape.” Reiner offered, glancing away.

“Kiss ass…” Jean muttered from outside the tent.

-sukuna fic is taking erm much longer than expected, i'm so sorry for delays i'm so slow

-first request, this actually means sm to me, i hope i did good anon AGUH

#aot x reader #aot #aot smut #aot fanfiction #levi aot #eren aot #jean kirstein #jean x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner x jean #mlm nsft #attack on titan #shinjeki no kyojin

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vo-kopen · 2 months

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So fun fact about me, I have been playing Coromon (a monster collecting game that got ported to IOS last November) and I am enjoying it. It’s the first of its style of game I have played, and I like how their equivalent to shinies work. Basically it’s stat based, low to middling stats have the Standard color scheme, good stats have a Potent color scheme, and max stats have Perfect. Included above are the sprites to all my Perfect Coromon, turns out when you go hunting for ones with good stats you occasionally get multiple members of the same family line. (In my party I currently have Jff LndShrk, Thermight (named for an OC of mine) Killer Croc, and Owlcity (new name pending))

I got stalled at the Sand Town for a bit (it felt stereotypical) but I recently resumed and I am now in the Ice town. It’s funny how different the elements work from other monster hunting games, a Coromon can only be one of seven elements, but moves can be from an additional six I believe. Also no Coromon have multiple elements, and the Titans (basically legendaries) can’t really be caught, only battled against. Which fits their raw power. And the starter trio are Ice, Fire, and Water.

Also I recently ran into a cameo in the game by one of my preferred Twitch Streamers? I knew Hannah had played Coromon (I did not watch because of spoilers) but she’s in the Fire area with her cat Libby (technically Libby is her partner’s cat but Libby cameos a lot of streams) It took a good minute after I fought her for it to sink in, look I am not great at social skills.

Closing thoughts, Pokemon step up your game. If Coromon can fit fully onto my tablet, you definitely could fit some of the older Pokémon games on mobile. You aren’t selling them anymore, it would not compete with the GameCube 2 or whatever, so why not put them on android and iOS to print money? I never have played a proper Pokémon Game just Pokémon Go, and it’s because I can’t justify a console or vintage handheld. I really like Coromon, but I would like to try out the og monster catcher too. Get on it.

@thefingerfuckingfemalefury @highly-radioactive-nerd @lewistheruinmaniac look at these good fellas. I particularly love that Nibblegar’s line keeps its ring as it evolves, makes it really feel like a treasure it loves. Also much as it’s final form looks, it’s got the best defense and special defense of the three starters. It’s a beefy boy.

#coromon #lomadia #Pokémon

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snowmist-hashira · 11 months

Text

[Chapter title: Sanctuary]

Muichiro Tokitou x Reader

Wattpad:[KNY Fanfiction] (One shots) Tokito Muichiro x Reader Archive:Kimetsu No Yaiba: Tokitou Muichiro x Reader Master list:♠ Information ♠

Artist links;

Pixiv: https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/49800985

Twitter: https://twitter.com/rainyforesty

I am open to requests for Muichiro x Reader content, and I also enjoy engaging in roleplays. If you're interested in either, please feel free to check out my pinned post for more information. ~ ♠

I have recently returned from my trip, and although I will be quite busy until July 3 due to a qualifying exam for the course I have chosen, I will still make an effort to complete the pending requests in my inbox. I apologize once again for the delays!

“Why are you so selfish?!”

“…!”

---

“Hey… Y/n… I’m sorry…” As he spoke, his voice trembled with regret and genuine remorse. It was the first time he had witnessed you this angry, and it struck him deeply. You were known for your gentle demeanor, always wearing a soft expression, but this time was different. Your eyes shot out daggers, your brows furrowed, and an unmistakable annoyance etched itself onto your face.

"I didn't mean to make you angry," he whimpered, pleading for forgiveness. However, you chose to turn away, refusing to respond. The visible annoyance on your face remained, refusing to dissipate. The silence between you grew heavy with tension, as both of you grappled with the intensity of the moment.

Muichiro took a step closer, his voice barely above a whisper, "Please, let me explain. I never wanted things to turn out this way. I never wanted to hurt you like that…"

You remained silent, still unwilling to face him or acknowledge his words. Your emotions were raw and difficult to contain, and you needed time to process them.

It wasn't entirely his fault, that external pressures had been mounting on you for some time. The weight of expectations and the constant pressure to measure up had finally taken their toll, causing you to unravel in that moment. The overwhelming feeling of not being enough to anyone had left you devastated, vulnerable, and unable to contain your emotions.

Muichiro, with his own struggles, had chosen the wrong timing to argue with you. Normally, the two of you would have found a way to talk it out, seeking understanding and finding common ground before the day's end. But this time, both of you were on edge, and the tension escalated. In his attempt to make you understand his pain, he unknowingly stumbled upon the burden you had been carrying, only realizing it when your expression revealed the depth of your anguish.

Regret washed over him as he pieced together the puzzle. He had unknowingly added to your already heavy load, and now he understood why your anger had been so fierce. Guilt etched itself onto his features as he watched you, realizing the pain he had unintentionally caused.

As the tears streamed down your cheeks, staining your clothes with darkened marks, Muichiro's heart clenched with a mixture of guilt and helplessness. He had never witnessed you in such a state of hurt and anger before, and it tore at his soul to see you in such pain. The sight of your vulnerability made him acutely aware of the weight you were carrying, and he felt a deep sense of remorse for adding to it.

A wave of selflessness washed over him as he recognized that his own struggles, however significant they might have felt to him at the time, were overshadowed by the heaviness of what you were going through. He felt a profound sense of guilt for seeking your attention when you were already grappling with something so deeply personal, something he hadn't been aware of until now.

Gently, he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he wiped away a stray tear from your cheek. His touch was tender, a silent gesture to let you know that he cared and that he was there for you, even amidst his own remorse.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice laced with genuine remorse and regret. "I didn't realize... I didn't know the extent of your pain…”

As you turned away from him, maintaining your silence, the sound of your sniffs and whimpers filled the air, shattering the heavy silence. Muichiro's heart sank as he observed your emotional state. He had grown accustomed to demanding your attention in the past, his desire for your attention had inadvertently contributed to the escalation of the situation, and he felt a deep sense of dejection and frustration.

With a heavy sigh, he cast his gaze downward, his eyes fixated on the floor. The weight of the moment settled upon him, and he clenched his fist, his frustration boiling within him. He felt a profound sense of helplessness, as if he had failed you and himself in that moment. The realization of his own uselessness at that point added to his mounting frustration.

He wanted nothing more than to ease your pain, to make amends for his part in the conflict, but he felt trapped by the consequences of his actions. The room seemed to close in on him as the weight of his own emotions consumed him.

In that moment of uncertainty, Muichiro found solace in a simple, tender embrace. With hesitance, he pulled you gently into his arms, hoping that his actions would convey the support and comfort he longed to offer. Doubt gnawed at him as he wondered if this was the right approach, bracing himself for the possibility of rejection or being pushed away.

As he closed his eyes tightly, preparing for the worst, he was taken aback by your response. Instead of pushing him away, he felt the subtle shift of your vulnerable body, your head finding solace against his chest, and your tear-filled gaze fixated on the ground. The weight of your emotions was palpable, and yet, you allowed him to be a part of your pain.

Tears continued to flow, your cries still audible, but amidst the vulnerability, he sensed a glimmer of trust. With a mix of gratitude and a sense of responsibility, he held you closer, feeling your weak arm loosely wrapping around his waist. It was a gesture that spoke volumes, an acknowledgement that you were allowing him to be there for you in your time of need.

Silently, he stroked your back in a soothing manner, wordlessly expressing his presence and support. He knew that mere words were insufficient in this moment, but the comfort of physical touch and the shared warmth of your embrace bridged the gap between you.

“I’m sorry…” Muichiro's repeated apologies resonated with you, but you understood that the fault did not solely lie with him. As he expressed his remorse once again, you shook your head gently, attempting to reassure him that he wasn't to blame.

"It's not your fault," you whispered, your voice trembling as you spoke through sniffles. "I was overwhelmed, and I let my emotions get the best of me… I lashed out at you… I'm really sorry..."

Muichiro's eyes softened as he listened to your words, a mix of understanding and forgiveness flickering in his gaze. He reached out and gently wiped away a lingering tear from your cheek, his touch carrying a tenderness that spoke of compassion and acceptance.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Muichiro spoke with concern and reassurance, his eyes glinting with genuine care, a wave of comfort washed over you. It was as if his words carried a soothing balm, easing the pain and vulnerability that had consumed you.

“I’m always here for you, so please… Lean on me.” His heartfelt plea resonated deeply within your heart, offering a sense of security and support that you desperately needed in that moment.

You allowed yourself to lean into his embrace, feeling the strength of his arms enveloping you. His touch, gentle yet firm, conveyed a silent promise that he would be there for you through thick and thin. It was a reminder that you didn't have to face the challenges alone, that you had a partner who would support you unconditionally.

With a gentle nod, you acknowledged his words and allowed yourself to fully surrender to his embrace. You leaned further into his chest, feeling the protective hold he enveloped you in. As he tightened his embrace, you felt a sense of comfort and ease wash over you, like a warm blanket wrapping around your weary soul.

In that moment, the burdens weighing heavily on your shoulders began to feel a little less oppressive. The strength of his presence and the depth of his care offered a respite from the weight you had been carrying. You found solace in the safety of his arms, a sanctuary where vulnerability was met with unwavering support.

As you melted further into his embrace, a quiet sigh of relief escaped your lips. In that intimate moment, you realized that you had found a partner who would always be there for you, a source of comfort and strength when the world felt overwhelming.

Wrapped in his embrace, you embraced the sanctuary he had gifted you, cherishing the moments of respite, and finding solace in the unwavering love he poured into your heart.

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taizi · 1 year

Note

Didn’t want to overwhelm what I’m sure is a very full inbox, since I’ll admit I have submitted a few requests before — but periodically I can’t pass up the chance when you say they’re still open (pending your whim, of course, as it should be). so anyway. I ADORE your tmnt 2003/2012 crossover where the 12s are looking for their sensei, all from 03s POV. And then I ALSO ADORE the 2012/Rise, from 12Mikey’s POV about Little Blue. So — any chance you fancy a 2003/Rise crossover? Perhaps an 03Leo observation of the absolutely terrifying raw power these bitty baby turtles call ninpo? 03Donnie trying to make sense of RiseMikey yeeting a cargo ship? Rise boys pointing out 03Raph’s accent as the only new yorker? that’s a bunch sorry have a lovely day!

It happens on an unremarkable Tuesday night, as they’re heading home from a relatively quiet patrol. Raph is grumbling under his breath because he still has energy to burn, and one tussle with the Dragons was about one-tenth of the outlet he was looking for.

Mikey’s natural state of being is still-has-energy-to-burn and he walks backwards to make a moue of false sympathy in Raph’s direction.

“Aww, poor Raphie,” the little menace coos. “We’ll find you another head to knock, I promise.”

“Won’t have to look very far, there’s one right here,” the red-banded turtle growls, and dives after him. Mikey shrieks in combination terror-excitement and darts around the other side of Leo. Leo allows himself to be circled, looking as though he’s ready to go straight to bed when he gets home, where at least he won’t have to deal with any annoying little siblings for the next six solid hours.

“Hey, um,” Donnie says from somewhere behind them. “Umm, Leo? Guys?”

His tone draws Raph up short. He turns with the long tails of Mikey’s mask still caught in his fist, while Mikey continues to squawk and flail. Leo is already moving out from in between the two of them, abandoning the youngest to his fate and approaching Donatello swiftly.

He doesn’t even need to ask what caught the genius’ eye. Donnie is staring at a bright point of light above the street. It hovers for a moment and then begins to open wider, warm and yellow and glowing.

As Raph watches, something falls through. Someone. He barely has a second to make out the vaguely human shape of the body before the mask tails in his hand are yanked away and his smallest brother is racing forward across the rooftop like a bullet.

Leo makes an aborted move to stop him, but there’s no point. Mikey has always been the fastest of the four and he has always, exclusively, only ever done what he wanted to do. Really, Raph shouldn’t even be surprised.

Mikey catapults off the parapet, collides with the body before it can fall more than a few feet toward the unforgiving asphalt eight stories below, and brings it safely to the roof of an adjacent building, taking the brunt of the fall in a neat barrel roll.

“Ugh, he’s gonna be bragging about that catch for weeks,” Raph mutters, keeping pace with Leo as they follow him over.

Donnie is way ahead of them both, easing the body out of Mikey’s arms by the time the eldest turtles catch up. It’s a green-skinned teenager, with the oh-so-familiar built-in armor of a turtle shell. The red stripes on his face, and yellow ones down his arms and legs, are obscured almost entirely by grisly bruises and a not-insignificant amount of blood. Most tellingly, the kid is wearing a bright blue ninja mask.

“Oh,” Don says, pausing in opening his medkit. He rubs one hand gently over the little mutant’s bruised forehead. “It’s another Leo.”

It says something about their lives that this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened on a Tuesday. Above them, the portal the kid came through is closing rapidly. The light goes with it, dwindling until it’s gone.

“He’s tiny,” Mikey says, all the joy and irreverence from a few moments ago blown clean out of his expression. Raph doesn’t like to see him look so worried, brow creased beneath his sunny orange mask. “And he’s hurt bad.”

“What the hell happened to him?” Raph rumbles, arms folded tight across his own plastron. It rankles to see any version of Leonardo injured like this. “And where the hell are his brothers?”

“They can’t be far,” Leo says, because it’s unspoken that where one of them goes, they all go, no matter what backwards dimension they might come from. He kneels next to his younger brothers and looks over his small counterpart with grave eyes. “But there’s no time to wait. He needs stitches at the very least. Donnie, can we move him?”

Donnie finishes packing the sluggishly bleeding gash above the kid’s knee with a temporary bandage and tapes it down, then sets about the rest of his medical examination, brown eyes troubled.

“There’s a crack in his shell that concerns me,” he says, probing around the kid’s neck with careful fingers. “And he almost definitely sustained some head trauma. I just can’t be certain about a spinal injury. I don’t want to risk permanent damage by manhandling him into the sewers. There’s also—oh.”

Donnie’s hands pause where he’d been feeling down the kid’s right arm. He pulls it out carefully from where it’s sandwiched between the kid’s side and Mikey’s plastron. Raph stoops to get a closer look at whatever got Donnie’s attention and then feels his chest go tight with rage.

They’re chains. Tiny, glowing links of burnished gold, almost translucent, wrapped firmly around the strange mutant’s forearm. And his fist is clenched around what looks like a piece of paper, but the chains are more concerning.

“Hey, uh, what the fuck,” Mikey says loudly. His hands on the kid’s shoulders tighten there protectively. “Can we get those off?”

“Let’s try,” Leo says, his own eyes whited-out and narrowed. He tests the chains with a touch, the way of someone testing the elements on a stove to see if they’re hot. When nothing happens, he grips one of the chain links firmly and begins to pull.

Raph, Donnie and Mikey all jump at the same time when Leo suddenly yanks his hand away with a hiss.

“What?” Donnie blurts. “What happened? Did it burn you?”

“No, it—it bit me,” Leo replies, shaking out his hand.

The golden chains glow a little brighter as the brothers watch, and now there are bright purple sparks trailing warningly up and down the length of them like an electric current. Raph eyes the purple warily. It looks like it bites.

“Try a knife?” Mikey says, tone upturned at the end because he’s as much out of his depth as the rest of them are.

Donnie hums, brow wrinkled thoughtfully, and works a kunai out of his belt. He slides the edge under one of the chains without issue, but the moment he starts to apply pressure, the orange glow and purple sparks become limned with red, like some kind of armor. The chains constrict slightly, biting tighter into the kid’s arm.

Back off, they say, as clearly as anything without a voice ever could.

“Leave it for now,” Raph says. He won’t say it out loud, aware of how stupid it would sound, but that color combination alone soothes some of the jagged uncertainty he has about this whole situation. “It ain’t like Little Blue’s a prisoner. We can deal with the chains once we’ve dealt with the obviously broken bones.”

Leo nods, on the same page for once. “Can you wake him up, Donnie?”

“Actually, I have just the thing,” Donnie says, like that’s some big surprise, hauling his satchel around and digging through it for a moment. That thing might as well belong to Mary Poppins, and he proves it nearly every day. Sure enough, Don emerges victorious with a container of tiny capsules. Shaking one out into his palm, he says, “Smelling salts. Sort of. My own spin, anyway. Mike, brace him as best you can, okay?”

“You got it, Doc,” Mikey says, picking the parts of the kid’s chest and shoulder that look the least beat-to-hell and planting his hands there.

Donnie snaps the capsule and waves it under Little Blue’s beak. It takes all of three seconds for the kid to give a violent full-body jerk, flailing wildly and going nowhere beneath Mikey’s steady grip. His eyes fly open, a burst of bright gold, and dart around frantically. The left eye is bloodied. Raph can feel his metaphorical hackles going up, because someone obviously beat the shit out of this kid, and he can’t be much older than fifteen.

“Hey, easy,” Mikey says, in a light, breezy tone, “you’re okay, you’re safe.”

“Okay, we can knock spinal injuries off the list,” Donnie says. He looks like about a hundred pounds of stress was just lifted off his shoulders.

Little Blue squints at them, all woozy. When he finally finds Mikey’s face, probably little more than a green and orange blur from his perspective, he relaxes visibly.

“Dee’s tryin’ to experiment on me again,” he whines. “Make ‘im stop or I’m telling Raph.”

Message delivered, he slumps back into sleep after that—apparently reassured by his present company, looming threat of unwilling experimentation notwithstanding. Donatello looks bewildered, and glances sidelong at Raph. Raph shrugs. Leo huffs out a laugh, sitting back on his heels.

“I’d know that tone anywhere. If he’s not the youngest, he’s close.”

“He’s just like me for real,” Mikey pipes up, grinning widely. “Home?”

“Home,” Leo confirms. “Can you carry him?”

“Uhh, are you kidding? He’s probably about as heavy as a handful of grapes.”

“We need to be careful with his arm. The, uh, unchained one. It’s broken in a couple of places. And try not to jostle his leg, either. And his shell—”

“Don, we get it,” Raph says, not unkindly. “Fragile, handle with care. Hear that, chucklehead? No razzmatazz.”

Mikey makes an offended noise and Leo cuts them off at the pass with the grace and finesse of someone who’s been single-handedly dealing with their shit for the better part of twenty years. “Let’s go Mikey. We’ve been out here too long already, and that light-show might have attracted some attention. I’ll call sensei once we start moving and ask him to prepare the infirmary bed for us.”

It’s a group effort to get the kid folded into Mikey’s arms in a manner that doesn’t upset Donnie’s doctoral sensibilities. But he’s such a scrawny stringbean that Mikey carries him with the same level of effort Casey might use to haul around a couple twelve packs of Cherry Coke.

Little Blue, for his part, only squirms to get comfortable and smushes his cheek against Mikey’s shoulder without waking. He’s clearly used to being hauled around. Raph won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it, but he thinks Leo was probably right. That’s little sibling behavior if Raph’s ever seen it.

Splinter takes the arrival of a fifth turtle in the lair like a champ. It’ll be a cold day in hell when they manage to surprise their dad for real. His aged brown eyes are gentle as Mikey sets the kid on the cot, and he lingers nearby as Donnie prepares the fiberglass for the arm cast. He’s probably remembering when Fearless was that small.

Splinter manages to work Blue’s fist free of the paper he was clutching and smooths out the creases. It looks like it might be a photo. Whatever it is, it causes the rat’s eyes to get very old and very sad. He puts it back in the little mutant’s hand and closes his fingers around it again.

Somehow Little Blue manages to sleep through the stitches and the setting of his broken arm. He doesn’t even stir as he’s tipped onto his side so ointment can be applied to the crack in his shell before the edges are smeared with epoxy and forced back together.

He could probably use the rest—he looks like he just tumbled out of the end of the world. Donnie isn’t concerned about the prolonged stint of unconsciousness only because the kid was awake for a few minutes and coherent enough to form sentences, as confused as they were.

The chains have dulled to the barest glow. Every now and then they light up like Christmas, but only for a minute or two. Mikey dubs it “energy-saving mode.” It’s remarkably un-reassuring.

The whole clan eats dinner in the infirmary in a bunch of mismatched chairs, all of them reluctant to leave the battered child’s side. The second time one of his brothers starts to nod off, Raph makes the executive decision that he’ll take first watch.

Because none of his siblings know how to do anything the easy way, he has to all but run them out at blade-point.

“I know for a fact that you haven’t slept in three days, Don,” Raph says mercilessly. Donnie withers like a little overwatered plant when sensei’s sharp eyes descend upon him. “And Mikey, you’re barely any better than him. I will gladly throw you under the bus next, try me.”

“And we call Leo the mother hen,” the youngest grumbles, only to squeak and dive behind Leo when Raph advances a single threatening step in his direction.

“C’mon, you two,” Leo says, herding them out. “We can have a sleepover in the den. That way we’ll hear it if Raph calls us.”

It’s an unspoken request for Raph to wake them if anything happens. Raphael salutes him only semi-sarcastically and takes up camp next to the cot. Splinter draws a chair up beside Raph’s, whiskers twitching with amusement as Mikey whines from the living room, “But I won’t even be able to sleep!”

“He’ll be out like a light in twenty,” Raph says dryly.

“Ten, if Donatello puts on “How It’s Made,”” Splinter replies with equal parts exasperation and affection. He puts one clawed hand on Little Blue’s forehead, and goes on, “It was good of you to bring him here.”

Wondering if he’ll ever outgrow the uncomfortable feeling he gets from any sort of praise, Raph spins a sai for something to do with his hands and mutters, “Well, yeah. Us turtles gotta look out for each other. It’s not like the humans are gonna do it.”

Splinter kindly moves on. “The boy’s qi is very bright, for all that something has recently attempted to snuff it out. I can tell he was raised in a home full of love.”

“Someone’s gotta be missin’ him,” Raph agrees. It makes his stomach sink to think of some version of his family missing their Leo.

Reading Raph’s mind as easily as he always has, the rat transfers his hand to his son’s arm and pats gently. “We will make sure that he finds his way home. Now,” he adds in a brighter tone, “tell me about my two youngest refusing to take proper care of themselves. I need to know how many flips to assign.”

Grinning, Raphael settles in to spend these quiet early morning hours gossiping with his father.

He must doze off himself at some point, because his senses kick him awake the second before a heavy thud would have. He jumps to his feet, but Splinter raises a hand to calm him.

“Our guest is up,” the rat says mildly. “Collect your brothers.”

Normally, Raph would have something to say about leaving his father alone with a potentially dangerous unknown variable. In this case, he catches sight of two very bright, very frightened gold eyes staring at him from behind the cot, and decides Splinter is probably on the right track. Surprise, surprise.

So Raphael backs up toward the door, scrutinized every inch of the way. As he’s leaving, he hears the kid say, in a tone that’s aiming for demanding and landing somewhere around plaintive instead, “Who are you? Where’s my dad?” It makes Raph want to hit something.

His little brothers are fast asleep in a pile on the sofa. Leo is also actually resting for once in his goddamn life in the armchair, curled up with his limbs all folded like a pretzel. The TV is still on, but the volume is turned almost all the way down. Raph makes it a single step into the room before Leo’s eyes slide open, meeting Raph’s unerringly in the low light.

“He’s up,” Raph says plainly. “And he’s a little freaked out. Kinda got the idea that sensei wants us to make ourselves scarce for a bit.”

Leo nods. With his mask slung around his neck like a bandanna, the worry lines between his eyes are more obvious.

“Let’s make breakfast,” he decides. “You and I can handle a few omelets.”

Mikey usually takes charge of meals, because the goofball has never really shaken off the idea that he doesn’t contribute as much to the general workings of their family as everyone else does. Which is a fucking joke. They’d probably last all of two days without Michelangelo, and they’d be the most miserable two days known to man.

So his big brothers make it a point to wrestle control of the kitchen from him every now and then. Meals aren’t as good when anyone else is doing the cooking, but it’s the principle of the thing.

As Raph is beating a big mixing bowl of eggs together, he blurts, “If you got flung into another dimension, I’d drag your ass back home first thing. You’re not getting out of this shit that easy.”

“Language,” Leo says without looking up from the bell peppers on his cutting board. There’s a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. “And I know you would.”

There’s a thump from the general area of the den—presumably a turtle falling off the sofa—followed by the low tones of Donnie and Mikey arguing sleepily. Raph’s heart does this big warm stretch in his chest as they amble into the kitchen, something he would never in his life admit to out loud.

Mikey’s mouth is open to protest this shameless coup of his kitchen. Raphael points the whisk at him warningly.

“One word and I’m tossing onions in here,” he says. “A whole bunch of ‘em.”

It’s as much of a threat as it needs to be. Mikey’s beak wrinkles but he only circles around the table to start the coffee for Don.

They return to the infirmary armed with plates and drinks. Little Blue is sitting on the edge of the cot, watching them with obvious wariness on his face. When this version of Mikey who isn’t his Mikey approaches him, Blue’s expression does something it hurts to look at. But he musters up a smile anyway and takes the plate and mug he’s offered.

The plate goes to the side right away. The mug is turned around and around in his hands. It’s a start.

“Um, hi,” he says. His voice is a shock to the system. He sounds like a childhood memory. “I guess introductions would be kind of redundant, huh?”

Donatello smiles. “That’s right. Do you already have experience with other dimensions?”

The kid’s hands go white-knuckled around his drink. “Not till recently,” he says woodenly. “And not like this. Donnie loves to talk about the multiverse theory, though. I’m an expert by proxy.”

Raph recognizes it when someone is on the brink of a panic attack and keeping it at bay by the skin of their fucking teeth, and his family sees it, too. He can practically see Leo reshuffling the course of this gentle interrogation, bypassing the obvious next question of “what the hell happened” for something a little safer instead.

“You were pretty banged up when we found you,” is what he lands on. “Do you feel alright?”

Leo’s tiny counterpart doesn’t seem to know what to make of him, equal parts awed and troubled. He glances over at Raph quickly, something of a knee-jerk reaction, and his face creases a little when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. His eyes fly to Donnie next, where they only linger for a second before falling to his lap.

Raph can’t imagine how alone he must feel.

“Think so,” the kid says by way of answer. “I mean, my entire body feels like one big bruise, but I didn’t die. So I’ll take it as a win.” He blinks. “Unless I did die and this is a really weird afterlife. Or my brain is in that pre-death electrical storm and all my cells are depolarizing en masse and this is what it cooked up for me to go out with.”

Okay, the kid is beginning to sound more like a Donatello than a Leonardo now, but the way his voice is getting tighter and faster is all Mikey when he freaks himself out.

“Hey, hey,” Raph says as he stands, shoving his plate towards Leo blindly and lifting his empty hands. It doubles as a ‘slow down’ gesture, and also as a means to grab Blue if he passes out. “Cool it, kiddo. We’re not a—a brain tsunami or whatever the hell you just said.”

“That’s probably what a brain tsunami would say,” Blue says faintly.

Raph takes those few steps to the kid’s side, coming to stand between him and Splinter. He reaches out to tap the bottom of the mug Blue’s strangling.

“Drink,” he orders. “You’re safe here. If you need someplace to panic, or scream, or throw things, I’ll show you my wreck room. But you’re not allowed to see it at all if you pass out again.”

The kid obediently lifts the mug to his mouth, mumbling a petulant, “Okay, mom.”

It’s the exact same tone of voice that Raph, Mikey, Donnie and even Casey have used to say those exact same words to Leo. Raph’s shock must show on his face, because Splinter lets out a quiet huff of laughter. Leo’s laugh, somewhere behind them, is louder.

The miserable expression on Blue’s face clears after the first sip. Leo’s favorite drink when they were little, before he started to abandon childish things and mold himself into the shape of a leader, was strawberry milk. From the way Blue lifts wide gold eyes towards Mikey and holds the mug closer to his center, it’s his favorite, too. And it’s a piece of home he wasn’t expecting to find in this weird place.

Mikey winks at him and a line of tension in Blue’s shoulders fades away. For the second time since waking up, Blue smiles back. It comes a little easier to him this time.

Raph isn’t surprised. A Mikey makes everything better.

“While I can understand why a wave of short-circuiting neurons in your brain might seem like the most logical explanation for this,” Donatello says, which makes goddamn one of them, “I can promise you that this is real. You fell through a portal in Brooklyn.”

“A portal?” Blue asks. “A yellow one?”

“Yeah! You remember?” Mikey says brightly.

“I remember the light,” he replies slowly. He sets his cup down, and his hand drifts over to the crumpled-up photo sitting on the cot beside him. He doesn’t lift it or look at it, he just sets his hand on it, like he’s taking strength from its existence. “It was so dark and cold, and then the sun came out. I think I reached for it. I don’t know how I ended up here.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Leo says firmly. “And those chains, too.”

“Chains?” the kid asks.

“The ones on your arm,” Donnie says. “You don’t feel them?”

Little Blue looks down at both his casted and his whole arm, frowning. He lifts the whole one closer, turning it, and Raph catches the faint glimmer of those stubborn chains before they explode into burning gold. Blue yelps in surprise, and Raph’s brothers fly to their feet.

“Did that hurt?” Mikey says all frantic, flapping his hands.

It’s a fair question. Little Blue’s eyes are still wide and stunned, but now they’re filling rapidly with tears. He touches the chain the same way Leo had, like he’s testing something. It’s on the tip of Raph’s tongue to warn him not to, but it turns out not to be necessary.

That aggressive show the lights put on for Raph and his siblings is nonexistent. Those purple sparks circle Blue’s fingers harmlessly. The red glow is a steady, unfaltering warmth. The chains themselves cinch tighter, resolute and unbreakable.

Donnie’s mind is racing behind his brown eyes. He’s putting together what Raph’s heart had already figured out back on that rooftop.

Wherever one of them goes, they all go. It didn’t make sense to find any version of Leonardo by himself, because his brothers would never have let him go without a fight. The place he belongs to would fight tooth and nail to keep him.

Sure enough, Little Blue hugs his arm against his plastron and whispers, “Thanks for holding onto me.”

Then he’s in motion. He knocks back the rest of his strawberry milk like he’s a character in a Western film throwing back a shot of rye, crams the photo into the pouch at his waist, and hops off the cot. He staggers immediately, catching himself on the arm of Splinter’s chair. The whole thing is not giving Raph a whole lot of confidence in whatever this kid is planning, but he gets the feeling that trying to stop him now would be like trying to stop a trainwreck with his bare hands.

Blue points at the butter knife on Leo’s plate, there because he eats his omelets like an old man.

“Can I borrow that?”

“Uh, sure,” Leo says, standing up and passing it over.

“Thanks,” his young counterpart says with a winning smile, just seconds before it lights up in his hands and changes shape. When the bright blue glare fades, there’s a katana in the kid’s hand where a butter knife used to be.

“What the fuck?” Raph and Mikey shout at the same time, though Mikey’s is more of a delighted shriek.

Blue is blinking rapidly, like he’s trying to clear his gaze. He’s swaying where he stands, and Splinter’s brow is folded in concern, but before anyone can stop him, he lifts his shiny new sword in front of him and slashes down through empty air.

Right away, a small cyan portal opens in front of him. It’s charged and electrified, a playful spinning thing. Raph’s heart is racing, and he puts out a hand to keep Mikey firmly behind him. Similarly, Leo has a solid grip on the leather strap across Don’s plastron, because their little brothers are both the same type of idiot in opposite directions when it comes to sparkly unexplainable things.

Little Blue, for his part, looks disappointed in his portal and in himself, and it bleeds quickly into frustration. “Come on,” he says, shaking the sword in his hand. He forces the portal open a little wider, gaining a few inches in diameter. It’s still not big enough to be anything like a door, or even a window.

“Your qi is exhausted,” Splinter says gently. “It will take days yet to build it up into even half of what it should be.”

“I don’t want to wait days,” Blue grits out, hand white-knuckled around the hilt. “I want to go home.”

The chains on his arm begin to unravel, elongating impossibly, becoming bigger and denser. Now they more closely resemble the heavy-duty chains Don uses in the garage to lift engines above his head. Two loops remain around his wrist, and the rest of it goes flying into that portal.

For a moment, nothing happens.

And then, to put it in scientific terms, the portal fucking explodes.

What started as the size of a dinner plate is now easily big enough for the Battle Shell to barrel through with plenty of clearance on all sides. It stands almost as tall as the ceiling and just as wide. And it barely has a chance to exist in this state for more than a second before multiple bodies come hurtling through from the other side at break-neck speed.

“LEO!” three young voices scream, and Little Blue drops his sword to meet the chaos with open arms.

“Took you long enough,” he says warmly.

#tmnt 2k3 #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #hamato raphael #hamato leonardo #hamato michelangelo #hamato donatello #my writing #prompt #anonymous #tmnt fic #reduxi: the rise remix #this got away from me lmao #i may write a 2nd part if anyone is super interested #this wasnt exactly what u asked for sorry anon !

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