#and then i just churned out this piece when I sat down to write it

[celestie0]

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!!)

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #geto suguru #gojo satoru angst #nanami kento #choso kamo #series #yaga masamichi #alternate universe #college #college au #soccer #sports au #fraternity #sorority #tw drinking #partying #anime #romance #smut #fluff #angst #jjk smut #long fic #jjk series #ongoing series

[donatellawritings]

hiii mamita!! first off i wanna say i love ur writing and characterization SO MUCH!! ur my absolute fav latina representation in this fandom and im sending u sososo much love <3 secondly, could we pretty pls have rafe w latina reader who’s constantly using spanish around him and he eventually understands her enough to get some things but doesn’t say anything until she says something slick one day under her breath and he calls her out so she’s like oops🫢🫢🤭

tysm for the kind words, angel <3

this is so bff!rafe coded …

rafe was an obsessively busy man — the poor guy just had to keep himself occupied, or he’d find himself slipping off into the deep end. so, he never actually took the time to learn spanish, but he had a pretty basic understanding of the language, solely thanks to the fact that he spent most, if not, all of his free time around you, listening to your jumbled rants. and it was clear to him which words were profane and insulting, by the way you’d huff and roll your eyes whenever they rolled off of your tongue.

you see, rafe was fully aware of your bitchy side and how your sweet and delicate demeanor could quickly flip into a bratty and entitled state, especially when you didn’t get what you want — which just so happened to be your current dilemma with rafe.

it was simple — you wanted to soak up some sun in your brand new frankie’s bikinis two-piece, while your bossy best friend, rafe was adamant about going to the country club to catch up with topper and kelce, over a glass of whiskey.

lifting your miu miu sunglasses to sit atop of your shiny blown out hair, you leaned your head back against the cushion of your lounger, the sun deliciously biting your bronze skin, “pendejo,” you mumbled, rolling your bambi eyes as rafe began to walk away from where you reclined.

stopping dead in his tracks, rafe cocks his buzzed head to the side, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, “the fuck did y’just say to me?” he spoke, his voice low as he approaches you with quick and long strides, before yanking you up to your feet by your elbow.

with pouted lips, you kept your eyes away from rafe’s, “i didn’t say anyth—”

letting out an unamused chuckle, rafe grabs your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his, “y’lucky i don’t break y’fuckin jaw,” he warns, harshly releasing your face from his tight grip as he watches your eyes well with tears, “don’t start that cryin’ shit — fuckin’ kid,” he spits, balling his fists at his side for a brief moment, before opening his hands, muttering under his breath as he walks away from you.

furiously knuckling away the tears that threatened to spill down your flushed cheeks, you keep your head down, a wobbly pout on your swollen lips.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

rafe didn’t go to the country club that afternoon. and you sat by the pool for about an hour, mindlessly splashing your french pedicured feet in the light blue pool water — you hated when rafe was upset, more so when you were the reason for his anger. but, you also knew how volatile and impulsive the son of ward could become, so you decided to wait it out for as long as you could.

rising to your feet, wet footprints stained the pavement as you padded towards the door, you eyes sparkling with shock as rafe walked through the door, “what are y’still doin’ here?” he questions blankly, monotone and all as he brushes past you, shoulders tense and jaw locked.

ignoring the way your tummy swirled and churned with disappointment, you exhaled sharply through your button nose, deciding to force yourself to be unfazed by rafe’s harsh words, “i don’t like when you’re mad at me,” you whine, dragging yourself where rafe sat, legs spread and a sweaty bottle of cold beer in hand.

taking a quick swig of the beer, rafe shrugs, “and i don’t like when y’get a smart fuckin’ mouth with me, just because y’wanna be a spoiled fuckin’ kid,” he counters sharply, setting the beer down beside his foot.

you really pissed him off.

nodding your head, you quietly brought yourself to straddle your best friend’s hips, noticing the way he licked over his lips, before pressing them into a tight line, “can i give you a besito? i’m really sorry, rafey,” you sighed, batting your cutesy lashes as your softly brought your nails to scratch at rafe’s abdomen.

remaining silent, rafe earned a playful eye roll from you as you leaned your tits into his chest, pressing your full lips into his structured cheek with quick pecks, “i - mwah - am - mwah - sorry - mwah - papito,” you giggled between kisses, sealing your apologies with a stolen kiss to rafe’s lips.

craning his neck back to get a better look at you, your skin all bronzy and dewy from your earlier suntan, rafe raises his eyebrows, “papito? that’s a new one,” he comments, raising a hand to rest on your the sweaty skin of your lower back.

with wide doe eyes and parted lips, you gasp, “you like it?!”

letting out a defeated sigh, rafe pulls you in by the back of your neck to press a kiss to the top of your warm hair, “yeah, s’cute, kid.”

#asks #anon #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader #bff!rafe

[thankskenpenders]

Happy new year, everyone! Welcome to 2024, the year that will mark the 10th anniversary of Thanks Ken Penders. I'd like to go over my plans for the blog for this year.

First of all: in the very near future, I'll have a post with my thoughts on Sonic Dream Team, and I'm sure I'll write one last Sonic Prime review once the final episodes drop on the 11th. I've also been sitting on an unfinished piece about the Sonic LEGO sets. I wanted this to be longer and more detailed piece that not only reviewed the sets but also went into the weird disconnect between homogenized image of Sonic the Brand and the actual fiction it's based off of, but it'll probably end up getting cut down a lot just so I can put something out. Let's just say I did a fun little thing with one of the sets.

Second: yes, I would like to return to regular TKP updates this year. As I've said many times, I wanted to do this in 2023, but I've been suffering from creative burnout after finishing SLARPG and have generally been unable to focus on any of my creative goals this past year. I'm hoping that this year will be better and I'll be able to get back into the swing of covering Archie Sonic issues. Even doing one issue every week or so would be vastly preferable to continuing the hiatus. I'm still only halfway done!! But aside from burnout, my other main hurdle is that I need to reread my own archive to refresh myself on all these things after nearly three years away. This will take some time.

The thing is, though, this year I'll have an extra incentive to go back through my previous writing and brush up on all things Archie Sonic. Because you see...

I've decided that I want to make a video essay about Penders. The comics, the copyright battle, The Lara-Su Chronicles, everything.

The why

I've thought about doing this before, but I never committed to the idea. I was too busy with gamedev, or I thought it'd end up being too long, or I figured that there were already enough videos on the subject, or I just lacked confidence in my ability to put together a video essay. So I told myself it wasn't meant to be, and let the multiple YouTubers who have cited me as a source on their own Penders videos fill that void.

Recently, though, a few things have happened that have convinced me it might be time. For one, YouTube video essays/media retrospectives/etc. are just getting longer and longer. When Quinton Reviews is out here doing 21 hours of videos on Sam & Cat, a subpar Nick sitcom that only lasted one season, I don't feel so crazy for wanting to make a video about several hundred comic books and two lawsuits that'd be at least an hour or two long lmao. Admittedly, I've also been self-conscious about doing a long video essay like this as a trans woman who has yet to do any vocal training. But these days I feel like I see a lot more transfem YouTubers who have done little to no vocal training, and that's given me more confidence on that front.

But the big one was Hbomberguy's recent plagiarism video. As I sat there watching it, I kept thinking about the time I found a CBR article that was just a crude 800 word summary of my two previous articles on Penders, published by a CBR writer who's put out over 4000 articles since 2019. If I've already been plagiarized before, and my writing is so frequently passed around as a go-to source on Archie Sonic drama, then I wouldn't be shocked if there were YouTubers out there straight up just plagiarizing me. I don't watch other peoples' videos on Archie Sonic, so I'd never know! So if people are just gonna paraphrase me when covering these topics anyway, why not take matters into my own hands and make what I would consider to be the definitive video on the subject? If hacks like James Somerton and iilluminaughtii can churn out these shitty video essays and people will still watch them, surely it can't be that impossible to make my own, right? (And also, uh, Hbomb literally told me I should make the video lol. If you're reading this, thanks for the encouragement.)

The what, how, and when

So here's the plan.

Part of this video essay will be an adaptation of my Medium article on the recurring themes of Ken's Archie Sonic run, with its content touched up and expanded upon. There were a few things I skimmed over in the article because I didn't want it to get too long, but again, people are out here watching ten hour videos about bad Nickelodeon sitcoms now. I can get away with elaborating a little more. I can add a few paragraphs talking about the Chaos Knuckles arc, or throw in a little more historical context I've discovered in the years since.

After covering the comics, the back half(-ish?) of the video will be dedicated to the copyright battles and their ensuing controversies, trying to give an accurate picture of what actually went down, the sheer scale of how bad Archie fucked up, and what our takeaways should be. This will have some similarities to my New York Magazine article on the subject, but I'll be rewriting it from scratch. I REALLY had to keep things short for that article because I was already way over the expected word count, and my tone was a little more straight-laced than normal because I was trying to keep things Professional. I can riff more and insert more of my own opinions this time, like I normally would.

I'll inevitably have to touch on some of Ken's Bad Tweets when discussing things that have happened after the lawsuits, but I don't want the video to just devolve into a list of times people got mad at him on Twitter, so I'm gonna try to keep that to a minimum in favor of focusing on his actual work. Things like the Scourge the Speed Demon incident and his continued statements on certain characters' copyright statuses probably warrant mentioning, though. And finally, assuming that the book really does come out this summer, I would like the grand finale of the video to be about those first couple chapters of The Lara-Su Chronicles.

I don't currently know when this video will get done, but it'll probably be in the back half of the year, especially with me waiting for the book to either drop or get delayed yet again. But I've actually already started writing a bit of the script, and will keep chipping away at it for a while.

So, uh, yeah, look forward to that? Wish me luck?

#tkp post

[backtothefanfiction]

Professor Peter Parker

Summary: The first day of college nerves are suddenly made worse when you realised the guy you f*cked last night is your new Physics Professor!

Warnings! 18+ ONLY! This is some of the filthiest smut I have ever written and posted on here yet. Female reader and pronouns, Age gap (everyone is of legal age, Peter is a very young Professor), Oral (F + M Receiving), Dirty Talk (so much fucking dirty talk), praise kink, edging, P in V, Peter Parker (YES he does need his own warning), One Night Stand... or is it?, ITS SEX PEOPLE, JUST STRAIGHT UP SEX WITH A LITTLE PLOT FOR ADDED TENSION AND POW!

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Consider this my formal application piece for the literary prostitutes society. There are no words for this, so I'm just gonna type/sing Don't Lose Your Head from Six. "Sorry not sorry but what I said, I'm just tryin' to have some fun..." But seriously though this was so self indulgent and I can't believe this came out of me. It's very much giving Aria and Ezra in Pretty Little Liars but older and much more Peter Parker. Also I am really sorry about if the tense keeps changing, I sometimes have a problem with finding my rhythm and I really cba to spend the time working it all out and changing it.

First day of college. Standard level of nerves for a first day. Are you running on just a couple hours of sleep? Sure. Still a little tipsy from last night? Okay, yeah, maybe just a little, but that’s a good thing right. Takes the edge off. But then again numbers and science had never let you down before. You can do physics. You’ve got this.

You took a deep breath, hand hesitating on the door handle. ‘This is the first day of the rest of your life.’ You said to yourself, breathing deeply.

You found a spot somewhere in the middle of the room. Not so eager you were at the front but you also didn’t want to hide away in the back. That and you were pretty sure you were due for an eye test and if you sat any further back you wouldn’t be able to read the board. You got out your notepad, flipping open to the first page, your fingers smoothing across the fresh paper comfortingly. You reach for a fresh pencil from the novelty pack your Mom had bought you especially for your first week, knowing you prefer the feel of writing in pencil than pen, the ink always getting smudged on your hand from your messy scrawl. You pluck the one with tiny zebra all over it from the clear case before placing it back in your bag. Your fingers drum the back of the pencil on your page nervously as you wait. You tried not to overthink things as your stomach began to churn. Had you really turned up this early? You took a quick look around the room at the other 5 people who had actually been there before you. ‘Hey,’ you reasoned to yourself, ‘at least you weren’t as early as them.’ 

You yawned. Damn you were tired. Although you had this early class, when your new room mate suggested you go out with the guys who lived across the hall you couldn’t say no. To be fair, it had been a good night all considered. You had met some new people, exchanged a few numbers, agreed to go to the end of semester drama club performance even though the term had only just started, drank way too many jello shots, got snuck into a local bar and then ended up going home with a tall brunette with the softest yet devious brown eyes you had ever seen who completely rocked your world. 

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, squirming slightly in your seat as you thought back to his head between your legs. The lewd moans he’d pulled from your lips echoing around your brain. It sent a fresh new wave of arousal straight to your core.

‘Not the time or place.’ you berated, instead forcing your mind back into the classroom and the task at hand. ‘Physics of Matter with Professor Peter Parker. He was probably middle aged’ you thought to yourself. It was always the case with classes like these, middle aged men finally leaving the lab for the first time after finally completing their life's work, now relenting to their wife’s begging to spend more time with the family. Or older men with white hair, wrinkles and tweed, desperately holding on to their independence, understimulated by the idea of retired life when all that knowledge of matter and the universe was rattling around their brains. ‘Young hot professors were only to be found in the movies or on TV’ you daydreamed as you tried to distract yourself from the growing pit of nerves in your stomach.

You check your phone every few seconds as other students file into the room, finding their own seats as you count down the minutes. 5 minutes… 3 minutes… 2 minutes… 1 minute… … He’s late… 1 minute past… 2 minutes past… 3 min-

“Okay, okay, settle down!” A voice called out as the classroom door opened, far younger than she expected and slightly familiar. “Welcome to Physics of Matter,” the voice continued as he made his way towards the board, picking up a bit of chalk and lifting it to the board as he spoke, “I am Professor Parker, but please,” he said dropping the piece of chalk back onto the little shelf at the bottom of the board, “call me Peter.” He said finally turning around.

SHIT!

DOUBLE SHIT!

You dip your head towards your page as you sink a little bit down in your seat. Hopefully he won’t notice. ‘FUCK!’ your head was suddenly screaming as all those memories of the night before flooded your brain again. His messy hair. His naked body. The way he had moaned into your cunt- FUCK!

You subtly glanced around the room from your head's dipped position. This had to be some new prank show right. There’s no way this happened in real life. There had to be cameras. He’s an actor right? Ashton Kutcher was about to burst through the classroom door shouting “YOU’VE BEEN PUNK’D” any second followed by the actual Professor Parker, right? Right?

“Now I’m not gonna ask you to get your books out this lesson,” he began to say playfully, his voice carrying around the room as he walked back and forth in front of his desk surveying his new class. “Today is about you getting to know me and me just going over all the things we are gonna be covering over the course of our year together.” He said, talking a lot with his hands. “As much as I’d love to start getting into equations with you, I’ve learnt that that tends to be futile during our first lessons. I mean, just by a show of hands, who went out drinking last night?” Professor Parker asked and a shower of hands across the room went up, Peter’s gaze scanning across the faces of the raised hands as he continued, “Keep your hand up if you’re still a little bit drunk-” his voice cut off as his eyes finally landed on you, his own oh shit face befalling him.

You felt your skin crawl as people lowered their hands and began following his gaze to you. You moved your hand up to your face as you sank down in your seat further. ‘Stop staring. Stop staring. Stop staring!’

8 HOURS EARLIER 

“I couldn’t help but see you staring.” He said as he sidled up to you. ‘Holy fuck’ he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, perfectly messy brown hair and the most delicious biceps (not too big) that were flexing under the cuffs of his fitted T-shirt you really just wanted to wrap your fingers around and squeeze. Damn. “Is she okay?” He said turning to your friend.

“Yeah she’s just-“ your roommate started before nudging you and breaking you from your hypnotised gaze on this absolute Adonis of a man. “She thinks you’re really hot!” she shouted over the music to him.”

He raised his eyebrows as he gave a small chuckle, flattered, as you cringed. They both laughed at you. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked as he took your hand.

“Yes, she does!” your friend said, pushing you off your stool. His other hand comes out to steady you as you almost slam into his chest. You blush before turning to give your roommate a death stare. 

He flashed one of those charming smiles again before he began to guide you away from her and to the dance floor. His hand doesn’t leave yours as he starts to bop and bounce, easing you both into the music. You slowly relax, smiling as a giddy feeling churns in your stomach, as you begin to bop with him to the music.

The music swells and he gives you a twirl under his arm before he pulls you closer to him. “So have you got a name or am I supposed to refer to you as flower for the rest of the night?”

You frown. “Why Flower?” 

“Isn’t that the name of the skunk in Bambi who is all quiet and has those big eyes and blushing cheeks and-”

“Don’t call me Flower.” you quickly say, slightly embarrassed by the way you had gone all goo goo eyed and helpless over him.

“Okay, then what can I call you?”

You hesitate for a second as you think about giving him your real name but what would be the fun in that, especially if this only turned out to be a one night stand. “Trouble.”

He laughs, his head dipping to hide his amusement. “Is that so?” he says from beneath his lashes. “Fine, if that’s how we’re playing it, you can call me Professor Brat Tamer, Professor for short.”

You feel your arousal soak your panties the moment he says it, the words going straight to your core. What have you gotten yourself in for? It’s like he knows too from the way he’s smirking. He turns you, pulling you back into him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to grind himself against your ass. “Now, are you gonna be a good student?” he coos against your ear only loud enough for you to hear. “Or are you gonna be like your namesake says and cause me a whole lot of trouble?”

He can feel the way you relax your body back against him, your eyes closing as you relish in the feeling his words elicit in you. 

You smirk as you look back at him, “I’m sorry Professor, but you may have your work cut out for you.”

An hour and a half later he’s pulling you into his apartment, your back slamming hard against a wall of exposed brick as your mouth latches onto his. Both of you had done so well keeping your hands to yourself the whole way back, but the moment you got through the door it was like a starting pistol had gone off, both of you suddenly in a race for pleasure.

You moan against his mouth as his tongue slips between your teeth. You can taste his final Jack and Coke he had had before you left. Your skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“Fuck.” You gasp as his mouth is suddenly moving across your jaw and down your neck, his teeth and stubble grazing you slightly in his hunger for you. 

“God Trouble, you sound so fucking pretty.” he coos against your chest, his hand moving to paw at your breast, bunching it up to spill over the top of your dress as he leaves wet kisses across the skin.

Your fingers wrap around his messy tresses as you pull his head back up so you can connect your mouth with his again, a small growl escaping his lips at the slight pain. You kiss him messily, both of you breathing heavily before you push him back, allowing you room to drop to your knees on the hardwood floor. Your fingers immediately begin to fight with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking sending arousal straight between your own legs.

“Fuck.” He pants as he looks down at you, his hand reaching to cradle either side of your face as you pull down his jeans and his boxers in one swift pull. “Uh, baby, baby, baby.” he coos as you take his length into your mouth and immediately begin to work your tongue up and down his cock.

His fingers move away from your face, grabbing at the hem of his t-shirt and you watch as he pulls it up and over his head, exposing the rest of his body to you. Fuck he really was gorgeous. “Oh my god.” he cried out when you began to swallow his length down your throat, your nose pressing to his pelvic bone. “Uh,” he said, his head tipping back, “she’s not trouble, she’s fucking perfect.” he says as he drops his head back forward to watch you, his thumb reaching to wipe away a stray tear at the corner of your eye.

You take his length out of your mouth as you gasp for air and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “Come here Trouble.” he says as he takes your face and chin in his hands and lifts you from the floor, pulling your lips back to his as he smashes his mouth into yours.

He begins to kick off his shoes as well as his jeans and boxers that now sit tangled around his ankles as he continues to kiss you, freeing himself so he can lift you up into his arms, your own arms throwing themselves around his neck, as he carries you to his bedroom.

You can’t help but cheekily bite at his lower lip as he stops just before the foot of the bed. “Oh she has some bite does she?” he says against your mouth. Your teeth almost clash together from how close you are as you grin, waiting to see what he’ll do or say next. “Okay,” he says as he pauses a little for dramatic effect, “I can bite back.” he says before throwing you back on the bed.

You let out a small squeal as you're caught by the mattress springs and pillows. You quickly prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see the devilish look on his face as he pulls off your heels before he stalks up the bed towards you. He leans over you, attaching his lips to yours once more, his tongue sliding deftly into your mouth and out again with every kiss until his last, when he uses it to suck your lower lip between his teeth, pulling on it. He releases it just as you’re beginning to feel it bruise, his lips instead attaching to your throat as his hands come up to pull down the top of your dress. He had already clocked that you were sans bra from how low the back of your dress was and is even more grateful now he can immediately latch himself onto your nipples, his tongue lapping at the small sensitive nibs, one and then the other.

You moan under his touch, your eyes falling closed as your head tips back, fingers gripping tightly at the covers beneath you. When he looks up at you, keening under his touch, he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Look at me baby.” he softly commands and you oblige, your chin pressing to your chest as you gaze straight into those big brown eyes. It’s the sexiest eye contact you’ve ever held. It’s like he’s fucking you with his eyes as his fingers begin to snake their way up your thighs, lifting the bottom of your dress up to your hips so he can pull down your underwear. He takes one feel of them before saying, “Fuck, trouble, these are soaked.”

You can only nod in agreement, as all words seem to have left your brain. ‘Fuck, he’s so fucking hot’ you think, as he kisses his way down your middle, over your dress until he reaches the hem where he can start kissing at your skin. You sigh, your head falling back again at the sensation of his lips kissing across your hips and then down your thighs. 

His fingers spread your legs and he gives a small nip to the inside of your thigh and you gasp at the small feeling of pain, that quickly turns to pleasure, as yet another wave of arousal floods between your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping.” he says as his finger scoops up the arousal thats begining to drip down your thighs, bringing it up to his mouth. You watch hypnotised as he sucks on his fingers. “Damn, trouble, you tast so fucking good.” he says as he slips his fingers from his mouth. It’s so filthy. He has barely done anything and you’re a fucking goner.

His tongue suddenly crashes between your folds. “FUCK!” you cry out loudly. His fingers trace over your thighs, reaching for your own fingers which you entwine with his. He’s got his eyes closed, savouring every moan, every little gasp he pulls from you. 

He can tell you’re getting close from how your cunt begins to grind itself down against his tongue, chasing you’re high, but to allow you to have it would be too easy. He listens closely to your breathing, your moans; one… two… he suddenly moves his mouth away and you want to scream. He playfully nips at the inside of your thigh, almost hard enough to bruise. You really do scream now in frustration. “Told you I could bite.” he says coily as he mumbles against your skin. 

He licks another stripe through your folds as if in apology, as if to soothe the sting but his tongue flicks at your sensitive clit before he sucks it hard between his lips and you cry out again. “Mmmm.” he hums against your cunt, “you sound so pretty when you scream like that.”

You want to cry, you are so sensitive and overstimulated but suddenly he’s lapping at your pussy again and you’re melting back into the bed as your muscles begin to relax again with the long slow licks of his tongue.

When you both begin to feel the build of your climax again he doesn’t pull away this time. He lets you have it, your thighs closing around his head, hips bucking off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. He keeps going, his mouth lapping up everything you’ll give him until you're pulling yourself away from him. Tears well in the corners of your eyes from the over stimulation as you pant and whine and rub your thighs together, desperate for the feeling to dissipate. He grabs at your ankles, holding you still as you flop back into the pillows at the top of the bed.

“So good for me Trouble, you’re doing so good.” he says as he crawls up the bed to kiss you. 

Although he’s wiped at his mouth, the taste of you still remains and you lick it off every part of his mouth you can reach as he settles himself between your legs.

His hands slide up your thighs before they’re grabbing ahold of your waist and suddenly he’s flipping you, his head crashing into the pillows as you straddle his hips. Your lips race to chase his as you continue to pant breathlessly into his mouth, another flood of arousal soaking between your legs. 

His fingers reach for the bottom of your dress, lifting it up and off your head, leaving you finally, completely naked before him. “Fuck, trouble,” he moans as his eyes drink you in, “has anyone told you how absolutely fucking perfect you are.” You giggle and blush as you lean down to kiss him. “No. No. Look at me.” he says as he takes your head in his hands and moves you away from him so you have to look at him. He’s giving you that look with his eyes again as he holds your face in place, not allowing you to break eye contact with him for one single moment as he begins to grind his hips up against you, his rock hard cock grinding against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. “So fucking perfect.” he repeats. “Now tell me, trouble, how do you want me to fuck you?” You can’t think, your eyes closing as you try to focus your thoughts as his skin drags across your clit teasingly. He gently taps your cheek with his fingers, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Eyes on me Trouble,” he says, “find your words, tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You shake your head as you close your eyes again, really unable to think. “Options.” you say breathlessly, your eyes flying open, before he can punish you for breaking eye contact again. “Give me options.” 

“Okay.” he concedes with a small nod and a smile. “Okay, pretty girl.” he repeats again soothingly as he pulls you back down closer to him, his lips kissing you sweetly and encouragingly, aware he’s over stimulating your brain. “I can fuck you like this.” he says as he looks into your eyes. His hand slowly trails down to wrap around your throat, his other hand still cradling the back of your head as he flips you again. “Or I can fuck you like this.” he says as he continues to slowly grind himself against your sex. “Or,” he says as he lowers his head down to the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply as he speaks directly into your ear, “I can flip you over and fuck you from behind.” You sigh as his words go straight to your core again.

“The last one.” you say breathlessly as your eyes close.

“MMM.” he hums into your ear as his teeth nip at your jaw, satisfied with your response. He pushes you back into the bed slightly as he lifts himself onto his knees, his hands moving away from your face and you watch him eagerly as you await his next move. He leans over to the bedside table, reaching into the draw for a condom, lazily tugging at his length with one hand whilst he uses his teeth and the other hand to open it up. You’re almost starring as he’s rolling it down the length of his cock, fully taking in his erect size. He smirks when he looks up to notice you nibbling at your lower lip.

“Come here, trouble.” he says before he’s flipping you over, your head finding a comfortable position on the pillow as he lifts your ass into the air. 

He slides his fingers down your opening before placing two fingers slowly inside you, stretching you out and you let out another breathy moan at the feeling. He pumps them in and out of you a couple more times before he slowly lets them slide out of you, his fingertips dragging agonisingly across your clit before he uses them to pump his cock again a couple times, shifting himself into position.

His fingers grip tightly onto your hips as he lines himself up and slowly pushes himself inside you, your back arching with the stretch, head shifting as you let out another moan of satisfaction into the pillow. “Mmm, let me hear you baby.” he says as his hand removes itself from your hip to reach for the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he turns your head back towards him.

“Fuck.” you hiccup as he pulls himself out little by little before he’s slamming his hips forward against your ass, pushing himself in even deeper.

“Fuck, trouble. So fucking tight for me.” 

You lose all ability to speak as he begins fucking into you, slowly building his pace until he’s fucking into you at a wicked speed. You want to scream again, your face screwing up in ecstasy as his cock continuously hits that spot inside you that makes you want to explode. His other hand reaches around for your throat, pulling you back up as he leans over you so he can stick his tongue back into your mouth. It adjusts his angle somehow, making the feeling in your cunt even more intense. Your mouth falls open as he holds it there, you’re panting and moaning into his mouth. “Look at me.” he encourages as his thumb rubs soothingly across your jaw. You can’t help but obliged. 

It’s too much. It’s the hottest, most filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You know you’ll never be the same again. Nothing, no one, will ever compare to this. “Please, please, please.” you find yourself repeating as your eyes close again. You’re so close and he knows it because your cunt is constricting like a vice around his cock. 

He moves his hand down to circle at your clit between your legs. “Come on, trouble, give it to me,” he coaches, “Fuck, baby!” he snarls against your mouth as he smashes his lips to yours again, pulling at your lips bruisingly. 

You pull your mouth away from him, wailing, gasping for breath as your body convulses around him, his pace only slowing slightly to help you ride out your climax. “So good.” he coos, “My trouble, so fucking good for me. Atta girl.”

His pace is steady as he feels you begin to relax again but you’re still so stimulated. You’re surprised he’s still going. “Your turn.” you say to him breathlessly and he smiles. When he doesn’t say anything you decide to push your luck. “How do you want to fuck me?” you coo, now you’re the one who’s eye fucking him.

You watch as he closes his eyes, head falling back. He chuckles then, something low and devious. He suddenly pulls out of you. It makes you feel so empty. You’re about to whine but then he’s flipping you over and pulling your legs together and then over his shoulder as he bends you in half. He lines himself back up with your entrance and slips back in with ease and you gasp as he bottoms out, the position making him hit that devastating spot inside you instantly. He leans all the way over so he can kiss you, his mouth swallowing every moan, gasp and breath that leaves your mouth as he pounds down into you like something fierce.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” you whine as the sensitivity grows too much. His pelvis is slamming against your clit with every thrust. Now you really are crying, your eyes rolling back in your head as you feel yourself clamping down on his cock again. 

“Oh my god, baby.” he says. “You’re so fucking wet. So fucking good. Such a good fucking girl.”

It’s a guttural wail you let loose into the room as you cum and his head dips down as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, his thrusts growing even faster as he chases his high. “Stay with me, Trouble,” he says, trying to ground you. He lifts his head, hand reaching for your face, forcing you to look at him. “Just a little bit longer, baby, just a little bit-” but he can’t finish his words. He’s so fucking close. One pump, two- he suddenly stills as he buries himself inside you, his forehead pressing into yours grounding you both as he pumps his seed into the condom inside you. You whine at the feeling of his cock pulsating against the still extremely sensitive spot inside you.

“You did so good.” His voice reassures as he strokes soothingly across your cheek forcing you to look at him as you breathe deeply and heavily in your come down. “So fucking good.” he says as he kisses your forehead before slipping out of you. 

With his body no longer crowding you you fully relax back into his sheets, your eyes closing as you try to regulate. You think you might even pass out. You think you may even have blacked out for a second, but you know you haven’t as your eyes fly open and your body jumps at the feeling of a cool damp cloth between your legs.

He watches you content as you suddenly relax once more, the cool washcloth doing wonders to soothe the hot swollen feeling between your legs as he cleans you up. You definitely black out then, completely exhausted.

You are disturbed again a few minutes later, a soft reassuring hand brushing up your legs. “Here.” his voice says softly as he sits on the side of the bed next to you, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him so he can pass you a glass of water.

The cold liquid does wonders to help regulate your temperature and you can’t help but stare at him again in wonder as he sits before you in a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms. He leans over you, kissing the top of your head, breaking you from your sex induced stupor.

“You can stay if you want.” You nod your head, you have no energy to move yet.

“Okay.” he says with a soft smile as he takes the now mostly empty glass from your fingers. “I’m gonna go get you another one of these,” he says motioning to the glass now in his hands, “you go to the toilet, there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, get yourself ready for bed and when you get back we can cuddle.”

You still have no words, just dociley nod and agree. You wobble slightly as you try to stand, blood rushing back to your limbs and his hand reaches out to steady you. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” You say as you sway slightly and wave him away.

He just chuckles. “Whatever you say, trouble.”

You crawl into bed beside him 5 minutes later, tucking yourself into his side as his arm wraps around you. “You really are Professor Brat Tamer huh?” you joke as you nestle into his bare chest.

“And don’t you know it.” he smiles, pulling you tighter into his side so he can place a kiss to the top of your head.

You wake just after 6am, sneaking from his bed with a smile on your face as you pick up your clothes before doing the walk of shame back to your student halls. The sun is just coming up and the leaves are just starting to change, you can still feel the alcohol in your system as well as the after effects of your orgasms and you know, although you’re tired, today is gonna be a great first day… or was it?

________________________-

@tarzinnia @withahappyrefrain @xenasolos @sincericida

Is this a one off? I don't know. Is there a lot of room for this to turn into a collection of shorts... yeah, maybe.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew!peter parker #professor!Peter Parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #Andrew Peter imagine #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #Peter Parker smut #professor!au #spiderman #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm!peter #andrew garfield peter parker #reader insert #smut #this is so self indulgent #Peter Parker x female reader

[nouearth]

for the greater good.

clark kent x male reader.

summary: clark is hurt, and his only remedy is you.

wc: 1.1k. genre: angst (kinda), comfort!fic. warnings: injured!clark, blood, newbie!superman, a monstrous villain has attacked metropolis!

notes: for some reason, i actually had a lot of trouble with this considering clark heals so fast, so i apologize for writing it so short! nonetheless, i hope you like it!

request by: anonymous.

“guess you aren’t exactly super, after all…”  a small joke weathered on your tongue. usually, it tasted sweet. like a watermelon-flavored gummy, you’d reckon. but as you catalogued clark, stone-faced because you never liked to worry him, it came out bitter as if you chewed on tea leaves.

“(m/n), please…” clark always laughed at every one of your jokes. artificially at some, but nonetheless genuine because he liked seeing you satisfied with yourself.

today would be an exception. 

“sorry,” you watched him writhe in pain, sweat collecting near your forehead because you were scared. it was stomach-churning to watch the way clark held onto nothing but himself, enduring whatever had weakened him so bad during the fight that had torn the city apart. enduring pain he had never felt before because somehow, his invisible shield had shattered. a million of broken pieces scattered in the city and clark has never felt so… defeated. “i’ll- fuck, here.”

any attempts of quelling the unknown pain in his body have gone futile because clark wasn’t a human. or was he? honestly, you were still confused about his origins. rightfully so, because he completely dropped a bomb of information only a few weeks ago. you were still registering that clark kent was… superman. the man of steel, they’d occasionally call him. 

but as you pressed cotton pads to clark’s raw wound, he was neither of those names—simply clark.

“i thought you said you don’t bleed?” you kneeled beside him as clark sat against the wall, chest rising as he drew in every breath—every tremor. 

“i... don’t. at least, i thought i didn’t.” he calmed under your touch, seemingly allowing his muscles to soften with every tender stroke of your fingers. he watched you, hissing when the alcohol hit his wound—multiple wounds. “usually, i would be healed by now. if i bled, i wouldn’t have noticed, so this is all… new to me.”

“hm…” you were bewildered just as he was. his suit was torn at the chest, skin scuffed and wounded just like the other injuries, but nothing was out of the ordinary. your eyes examined every corner, every bruise, every cut, for god knows what. a venomous bite drawn by a vampire? a beheaded tech-zombie from outer space? 

nothing of that sort. 

it was only clark.

“how close was that thing to you?” you never witnessed it. clark hid you to safety, flew you somewhere far despite your protest. you could help, determined to help. you weren’t exactly sure how, but all you knew that it was unfair that you inhabited this space when it should’ve been a dedicated spot for civilians, for refugees.

“I… it was all a blur. i remember flying towards him—it. it charged right at me and next thing i know- ow-“ clark twitched and you kissed a sorry to his lips, rubbing his chest to alleviate the pattern of tremors that sent him into guttural groans. “i-i was on the ground, pummeled. couldn’t breathe because its fist… claws kept digging into me—at me—deeper, and harder, and…”

clark was new to this, all of this. saving people was part of his daily routine, but he never expected it to be like this. to have his city completely demolished. to have the beauty of civilian life destroyed, all within a few hours. the pain in him throbbed, his head stung, but determination powered him through. “i have to get back and-“

“hey, hey,” you were never stronger than him, would never be stronger, but somehow you managed to keep him down, pushing him back as you pressed kisses and more kisses to his lips, then cheek. “you do. you have to get back out there. but not like this. rest for a bit, think about what we can do to… heal you back up—i’ll do the same—and we can go-“

“no, you’re staying here.” his hold on your wrist tightened as if you were about to leave in this very moment. he was still strong, you can feel it.

“clark.” your voice was stern, an unusual counter that surprised clark, and his grip loosened. “i have to do something. people are dying, and i just can’t sit here. plus, it’s fucking cold here.”

“you’re too vulnerable. you can’t—it’s too dangerous for you. what happens if that thing finds you? then what?”

“then my three years of taekwondo will finally pay off because i’m going to kick some ass and—“

“(m/n).” it was like deja-vu, and you smiled, kissing him again. he returned it softly, sighing. “you can’t.”

“i have to. what would you have done if you didn’t have superpowers and this was all happening?”

“i—“ clark stammered.

“all those people running to safety, hope that they’re running to it. there would be kids, mothers, fathers, toddle—“ you explained, and clark looked down solemnly. 

“i would’ve… done my best to help them….” the symbol on his suit was shredded to pieces, baring his chest to the bite of cold.

“and why would you? even if you were defenseless as i am right now?”

“because i want to.” clark said quietly, then louder, “because i can.”

“humans—good humans at least—do the right thing.” your voice has gone soft now, almost a whisper as you looked out to the field of night sky. you weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but you can see smoke billowing from afar. “even if we make mistakes during the process. or if we happened to sacrifice our life to spare death for a few others…”

“we do it because we can,” clark’s hand squeezed into yours, watching you in awe because your features shined even more in the moonlight. “that’s our superpower, i guess. our only one, and it’s worrying that not many people seem to recognize it—utilize it.”

you turned to face him again, and even though it hurt clark to sit up and lean closer, you’ve become the source of his power. a strong will to motivate him to do better. 

to be better—he finalized when he kissed you, sweet and gentle. he could feel warmth be brought back to his lifeblood when the light illuminated your silhouettes, sparkling. tremors became gentle waves, then static noise, and he hummed contently before pulling away.

“no taekwondo.” he cupped your cheeks as if that would make your hearing clearer.

“but-“ your lips pursed out from the applied pressure, like a goldfish.

“and all you’re going to do is lead people. i’ll find something—somewhere—we can harbor them to.”

“i—okay, fair.”

“and you’re going to wear a suit. i have some old tights-“

“gross-“

“and,”

“jesus, clark—“

“i love you.” clark caressed your skin, honey practically seeping from his eyes as he gazed into you.

you leaned into the warmth of his palm, one side to the next, and sighed to the beat of his heart drumming with yours, a symphony. “i love you.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#✰ : nou.fics #✰ : nou.dc #✰ : nou.clarkkent #superman x male reader #clark kent x male reader #superman x m!reader #clark kent x m!reader #superman x reader #clark kent x reader #superman x y/n #clark kent x y/n #superman #clark kent #superman fanfic #clark kent fanfic #clark kent fanfiction #superman fanfiction #clark kent imagine #clark kent x you #superman x you #x male reader #male reader #dc comics fanfiction #dc comics #dc fanfic #dc imagine #dc x male reader #dc x reader #x reader #male reader insert

[myonos]

diner girl

heeseung x f!reader genre: fluff strangers to lovers

wc 576 warnings: pov changes, light cursing

heeseung remembers the day he saw you for the first time

his friend jay had found a new diner in town and said it was amazing

so the whole friend group decided to go

when he walked in the first thing he remembered was the smell, it smelled like good food

then he saw you

and you were beautiful

the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen

he must’ve been staring at you for awhile because his friends had to smack the back of his head to get him out of his trance

they sat at a table and he made sure to have a clear view of you

his friends noticed very quickly

then came the teasing

“ooo heeseung’s in love”

“man sees one girl and goes crazy”

but he can’t help it

heeseung starts coming there almost everyday to see you

he somehow manages to figure out your schedule

he knows it’s weird but he’s enchanted by you

he thinks you don’t notice but you do

he immediately caught your attention when he came in

you were staring at him when he wasn’t staring at you 😭

you noticed how he started showing up everyday that you worked

some might find it weird but you found it sweet

you figured if he didn’t make a move soon you would

but at the same time

you’re a pussy

and the thought of talking to him makes your insides churn

he’s so fine

how can you approach him without looking stupid??

maybe you’ll write your number on a napkin?

but what if he doesn’t see it and just throws it away?

you could give him his order on the house to let him know you’re interested?

that sounds like a great idea

and now you’re walking up to him with his order

and his heart is beating out of his chest

because omg omg you’re so beautiful even more so up close

and then you say “this orders on the house.”

you send him a wink as you walk away

and he just stares

and stares

and stares

because did that just really happen???!!

the inside of his head is like £~£~*}++]¥&;&;&/$;&¥\\¥~¥>•\£@:@;

he’s malfunctioning

while you’re crying on the inside because

what’ if you just embarrassed the shit out of yourself

what if he was staring cause he thought you were ugly????

now you’re rethinking your entire life

about 30 minutes pass

you’re facing away from him

and unknown to you

he walks up to you at the counter

and clears his throat awkwardly

you’re expecting another customer, not him

and your eyes widen, COMICALLY

like are we in a tv show??

“i just wanted to thank you for the order. i’ve been coming here for the past couple of days thinking about how i was gonna make a move on you but i was nervous. i had to pluck up a lot of courage to come up here but i feel like i should take the chance. so, can i have your number?”

and you’re ecstatic

the smile on your face grows, showing your beautiful teeth

(yes even your teeth are beautiful)

“i’d love to give you my number, i’m y/n”

“heeseung”

you write your number down on a piece of paper handing it over eagerly

“i’ll text you” he says before leaving the diner

and now you’re thinking about him for the rest of your shift

#newmansecured

hiiii another headcannon this time with heeseung ! i love diners so this thought came to mind

permanent taglist: @escapetheash @vatterie @kaexox

#myonos #enhanet #en web #k labels #kflixnet #enhypen #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha socmed au #enhypen social media au #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki #enhypen headers #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen ff #enha fake texts #enha scenarios #enha fluff #enha heeseung #enha imagines #enha smau #enha fics

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Sweet Angel 👼

Part one:

Has to re-write this

-🩷

**

The clock was ticking. Her heart was pounding as she sat outside the principals office. She said a small prayer because she knew the trouble she was in. She knew this was going to be a good day.

“Y/n. The principal is ready to see you,” Candice, the school receptionist, called for her. She gulped and looked over at the lady. She was tall and had a mini skirt on. Her blouse was see through but no body complained because quite frankly everyone enjoyed the view. She was a hottie after all.

“Goodluck,” Candice said before Y/n could even step into the office. She needed it in order to stay calm and stay collective.

Her shaky hands opened the wooden doors and the smell of fresh books and coffee filled her nostrils as she took a step inside.

“Y/n, please take a sit,” His voice was loud but not scary loud more like loud for no reason loud. Y/n never liked the way he yelled. It was always hours of a lecture that she didn’t give two shits about because she knew she was going to get into trouble again but get away with it anyway.

“Goodafternoon Mr.Zang,” she smiled politely before taking a sit and looking straight at him. It was almost like she was taunting him, making him look like some type of clown.

“Alright let’s cut the crap young lady. We’ve called your brothers in,” her whole body went cold. Her breathing picked up its pace and her shaking hands were very visible now.

“You called my brothers?” She asked in disbelief, “but sir-“

“I don’t want to hear it Y/n, we’ve been going through a roller coaster with you and I think it’s time I set my foot down,” He was signing a piece of paper. The room was dark and mostly made of wood. It was a typical principal study and that creeped her out even more.

She was scared. She was terrified because if Chan was on his way he was definitely pissed off. She was definitely going to be in big trouble and she was definitely going to get killed. She was on her second strike. She had already been kicked out of a school before this and if she got suspended again in this school that meant she was one step away from getting expelled again. That alone would put Chan and all the boys in a coma.

Fuck.

She let out a sigh. This wasn't good at all. At all.

She looked up at the clock again to calculate how much time she had to live. 20 minutes. She had 20 minutes to live and she would spend it in this sad room. Not how she expected her last moments to be.

Her stomach was churning and suddenly the lunch she had eaten wasn’t such a good idea because of the nauseous feeling that came over her. The nerves were eating her alive and at a point she thought she was dreaming.

Her short prayers were interrupted by the doors opening. Had it been 20 minutes already?!

"I'm so sorry I'm late," She heard Chan's voice fill the room. She looked over at the door and gulped when she saw him come in with leeknow glaring at her. A lump in her throat started to form.

Leeknow was the scariest out of them all. He was the only man that scared the shit out of her (after Chan ofcourse) she just knew if it was the two of them (Chan and leeknow) it wasn’t a good thing because the both of them together was like losing a finger while cooking your favorite meal…does that make sense?

"It's okay Mr.Bahng, welcome. Please have a sit." Mr.Zang said pointing at both empty sits right next to Y/n. She made sure to scoot a bit further so she wouldn’t be at punching reach from Chan. (She was just taking safety precautions)

"So what seems to be the matter? what did she do this time and how much will it cost me?" Chan chuckled and she knew straight away that that chuckle wasn't real. It wasn't real at all.

"Im sorry we have to go through this again but today we caught Y/n- well you'll see by yourself," he pointed the tv remote at the tv that sat on the opposite side of the room. It was cctv footage. Y/n cursed herself for not knowing that this man was keeping cameras on her 24/7. She felt dumb. The video tape played and showed Y/n with a bottle of vodka passing it around with her friends. They were behind school in the alleyway between the gym and main hall.

Shit.

She gulped again and looked at the floor not daring to look at Chan or leeknow. Her throat was dry at this point. She could hear a frustrated sigh and a 'you better start praying' from Chan.

"Now Ofcourse we don't tolerate any of this behavior," Mr.Zang turned off the tv and sat back in his chair.

"I understand that sir," Chan replied,

"We will have to put her on suspension for 3 days but I do have a question," he looked back and forth between Leeknow and Chan with a worried look on his face.

"Yes Mr.Zang, what is it?" Leeknow asked.

"Who is at home with Y/n? Is it just you guys?" He questioned the boys while adjusting his glasses.

"No sir, she has a nanny that takes care of her sir. It's me and my other brothers that are in charge of her sir,"

"And what about parents?..." he trailed off. Her heart slightly jumped at the thought of her mum and dad. All she could feel was numbness everytime they had to talk about them.

"We don't have any of that sir, her mum and dad died a while back so I was given custody over her sir," Chan replied politely. He too didn’t like to talk about the death of her parents. It ruined his whole mood because he knew it was a soft spot for his little sister.

“Oh I see because Y/n has been acting out lately and with the grades and her attitude she might not make it past 12th grade,"

She glanced over at Chan who was massaging his temples and trying to stay cool while leeknow sat with his hands crossed and his eyebrows furrowed.

"I understand that sir, I'll make sure she gets on her game,"

"Alright I think that's it, young lady I hope you take this time to reflect on your behavior," he pointed at her. God! She hated Mr.Zang. His pin black hair and beady eyes always creeped her out. Even his golden tooth that always seemed to be glowing no matter what. Ugh.

"Trust me she will be reflecting a lot," leeknow said before shaking Mr.Zang’s hand.

They handed them the peace of document for her suspension so they could sign it and once they had finished she got out of her chair and grabbed her bag from the floor and started following behind her two older brothers. They both were talking to eachother whispering back and forth as she walk quietly behind them. The school corridors were quiet and she was glad because if word got out that  2/8 of straykids were in school, that would be hell for her.

The car was parked outside with the driver in the front seat and when they got into the car and all the doors closed Chan started yelling. Yelling really loud. Her body was trembling at this point.

"What the fuck Y/n?!" He started off. she kept quiet and looked at the ground not daring to look him in the eye. "Oh! So now she can't talk huh?! Now she can't talk!"

"This is so disappointing! Yah! Do you know how embarrassing this is?! Getting called out of rehearsal?!" Leeknow added on.

"I can't even look at you right now! You're so stupid! Why can't you think before you act huh?! Why can't you do things without getting into trouble?!" Chan yelled while bawling up his hands in a fist.

"I'm sorry-" she softly said but she was interrupted by his sharp laugh,

"She's sorry! She's sorry she says! You know what I'm sorry for?! You're grounded for life. Locked up in that house for internal life!" Chan scoffed, "No tv, No phone, No tablet, No computer..oh and you know what else? No more free tickets for your friends! You will stay in that house until I see straight A's again understood?!"

“Yes Chan," She nodded her head,

“Also I’m taking you out of the trainee program. Your not debuting anymore-“

“Chan, please don’t. Please Chan that’s the only thing I have-“ tears started to build up in her eyes. Her heart was shattered. Chan knew how important that was for her. He knew how much she was looking forward to being in a girl group.

“I don’t want to hear it. This conversation is over,”

His face was red and he looked scary but she couldn't help it. Why would he do that? He knew that was my most valuable thing going on in her life.

“Chan I’ll-“

"I don't care! I don't fucking care right now! Just stay quiet and don't even talk to me, don't look at me if you can please don't even breathe the same air as me,"

She looked at him with so much hurt but obeyed his wishes. Her heart was heavy but she couldn't blame him. She deserved it.

She kept quiet and continued to look at the floor as they arrived home. Leeknow was trying to calm Chan down as she got out the car and walked into the house. Tears fell from her eyes at a constant speed.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Han asked, he was sat in the living room with one of his friends but he still chose to leave them and come up to her.

"Y/n? You reek of alchohol, where have you been?" He pulled her into a hug. Concern was written all over his face.

“Don’t touch me,” she tried to remove herself from his grip but it was too tight,

“Talk to me please,” he begged.

"I thought I said I don't want to see your face!" Chan's voice boomed in the room. She got out of Han's grip and quickly run up the stairs sobbing.

"Wait- what happened?" Han asked Chan who was now huffing and puffing.

"She's on Suspension,"

"Again?" Han asked confused, "what did she do this time?"

"Bottles of alcohol in her bag," leeknow explained while rubbing his eyes, tired as usual.

"Where does she even get that?"

"I don't know but I'm starting to get worried about her. I think this is her last strike. What are we gonna do?" Leeknow shook his head.

Chan was fed up and it was so clear, "I don't know but right now I don't want to deal with her crap."

"Chan don't say that, you don't mean it," Han said frowning.

"No I do! Han she has been causing hell! I don't know what to do anymore! I might just have to ship her off to boarding school! I can't be dealing with work stress and her stress! I've tried everything, literally everything but she won't change," he snapped at Han.

“Dont yell at me, I don’t mean any harm,” Han frowned feeling abit attacked, “Chan just give her time, she's just a teenager and she just lost her parents,"

"Who's just a teenager?" Felix asked entering the room from the kitchen.

"Felix back me up here, Chan wants to send Y/nnie to boarding-"

"What?! Why? You can't do that Chan?!"

"I didn't say I would and she got suspended Lix, " he run his fingers through his hair before he started to pace back and forth

"Maybe we can put her in classes? To distract her from being bad?" Han suggested.

"Yeah that's a good idea! That way we can monitor her there too. We can even pick her up after practice," Felix agreed

"We'll see but for now she's grounded for life."

#skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #skz angst #skz drabbles #skz fluff #skz stay #skz x y/n #skz x you #stray kids drabbles

[goatgoatgoat7778]

I had an ftl fanfic from last June that I’ve been meaning to revise… so I wrote something completely different instead lol. This is based on the starvation mechanic, and the couple of times a scavenger got stuck with me. I tried to keep this one short since having to go over my own writing is terrible and I always procrastinate.

Saga the slugcat made her way back to the shelter, noting with slight disappointment that there were fewer berries to eat than the last time she took that path. She liked to gorge herself last-minute before hibernation; being overly stuffed impeded her athleticism, but it didn’t matter if she was already at the shelter. Though she hadn’t quite eaten her fill, there was still a satisfying distention in her furry white belly that assured, at the very least, she wouldn’t be completely ravenous the next cycle. When she crawled into the shelter- WHAM! She fell on her rear and found herself staring into the wide yellow eyes of a Scavenger that had been trying to leave just as she was entering. As they stared at each other in a daze, the exit to the shelter slammed shut with a heavy metallic thud. Saga had triggered the shelter’s auto-lock system and trapped this poor Scav along with her. Whoopsie. The Scav sat down and patted his side, motioning her to sit next to him. She curled up next to him, and couldn’t help but nestle into his warm fur. He welcomed the gesture, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in closer. Saga was glad she had such a good reputation with the Scavengers- if she didn’t, things would have been a lot more awkward. She had no doubt in her mind, however, that she would’ve been able to take this Scav on in hand-to-hand combat if it came to that. Maybe that’s why she allowed herself to get comfortable so quickly. As she started to doze, she became unconsciously aware of a low rumbling sound that filled the shelter. Her stomach often loudly digested as she fell asleep so it wasn’t too out of place for her, but she didn’t feel any activity in her stomach. Her head perked up as the Scavenger placed a hand on his stomach as a more intense growl came from it, the quiet of the shelter only serving to amplify it. She cocked her head. You okay? He waved a hand dismissively in return. I’m fine, don’t worry about it! The long, stomach-shaking groan claimed otherwise. Saga put the pieces of the puzzle together- there was less food around because the Scavenger had eaten some, and he must’ve come in here looking for food- and from the sound of it, he hadn’t gotten enough to comfortably hibernate. She placed her ear on his stomach, listening to the hollow growls that resonated from it and feeling the rumbles that traveled across the length of his belly. To her it was like white noise, and she eventually drifted off to sleep.

As she began to wake up, her stomach gave a painful twist that made her wince. She rubbed her now flat and empty stomach and worked out some growls to ease the hunger pains. She ate enough so that she wouldn’t be this hungry when she woke up which could only mean- she slept in! She hadn’t done that since she was a pup! In fairness to herself, the Scavenger was wrapped around her like a warm weighted blanket and she can’t remember the last time she was this comfortable. She shuffled a bit and gave her companion, who had turned to lie on his back, a look over. Though he was naturally lithe, his stomach had sunken in considerably and his ribs began to poke out through his fur. It shook and growled and when she placed her hand to it, she could feel his innards churn and twist desperately for sustenance, loudly complaints passing through his thin tummy. As the racket began to wake him up, he saw her looking at him with big sad eyes. He tried to wave it off again, but a long string of growls that made him double over interrupted him. Wait here. She motioned with her hands. She felt a bit guilty for keeping him here longer than he needed to, especially when he was so hungry. She’d go out and hunt a feast he’d never forget.

#stomach growling #hunger kink

[transfemarmin]

Hii, can i request a Male reader! X 1610!Miles? Something about them being best friends and Miles realizing hes deeply in love with him. Thanks and happy day :))

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ BOYS WILL BE BOYS

MILES DIDN’T KNOW HE LIKED GUYS..

a/n: tysm for requesting, i always love having more miles x male reader on tumblr!! once again, my reader will always be black, i apologize if this is not what was wanted, but i write strictly for my black brothers, sisters, & siblings. as I am black behind this screen.

___________________________________________________

HE STOOD THERE..

studying his friend’s face, the jawline.. the way his hair fell over his head, his eyes.. miles was studying everything, he didn’t know why. he was supposed to be sat down next to [name] studying for their test. they were supposed to be quizzing one another, a way they both found was helpful when studying and also; was the true reason why they were even together instead of in their own respected dorms

his dark brown eyes glancing over the way his friend wrote down notes, the way the other boy bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows when he came across something he didn’t understand; making a mental note to come back to it once all the notes were done.. miles had known [name] for years, they were best friends.. no.. they were childhood best friends..

this made the way his stomach churned as he stared.. neglecting his own work.. worse, this made the way his heart pounded in his chest.. the way sweat ran down his forehead.. worse.. he only felt this way around someone.. one other time, and that was with gwen. someone who he had a major crush on. he couldn’t believe this.. could it be possible that he had a crush on his friend? no.. it couldn’t be..

“ hey miles-“ [name]’s voice drew miles out of his thoughts for a sheer moment, the sound of his voice was enough for him to feel his body begin to shake, “ -uhm…what did you get for question twenty eight?” [name]’s eyes looked so unbothered, as he stared at miles.. ‘ oh god what if he actually doesn’t like me..?’ miles mind went crazy.. overthinking the simple look, staring into the other boy’s eyes..he seemed to move in slow motion as he sat down in his seat, next to the boy “ uhm..I got.. four, ya know.. for the sin.. whatever.” he waved his hand around, closing his eyes and looking back at his paper, the truth was he was still on question eight, he just wanted to hear [name] tell him he was wrong.. and then explain to him why it was wrong. he wanted to hear his voice..

he wanted to hear [name] explain to him why he might’ve had the incorrect formula, and then they’d move on to quizzing one another on the formulas that were needed.. but.. somehow, someway.. he was actually correct in his guess.

“ oh! yeah, I got that too.. thanks man, just wanted to check with you.” he gave a small nod, as he began to write down the answer nice and big on the side of the paper, so when the teacher graded it; he could see the answer clearly, because his work was quite sloppy. this wasn’t how miles wanted it to go.. he wanted to hear [name]’s voice.. he wanted to hear everything the other boy had to say..

but.. this didn’t mean he was in love with him…did it?

he didn’t know.. he never felt this way about another boy before, and he certainly hoped this didn’t break their friendship into pieces.. he didn’t know how to feel about this.. he didn’t know how to go about this at all..

maybe.. if he ignored it.. it would go away.

___________________________________________________

problems never go away if you ignore them, miles knew that for certain.. he knew it with stuff like his spiderman work and his classes, but he thought crushes were different.. that if he ignored it long enough that they’d go away, that wasn’t what happened with him and his best friend.. the more they hung out the more miles knew for sure he wanted him.. he knew for sure that he craved [name] more than anything, he craved to lay next to him.. arms around his waist.. their lips locked together.. he daydreamed while in class of the two hugging.. and not one of those daps and pulling the other into one.. and then slap each other’s backs for six minutes, no he meant a actual hug, with his arms around [name]’s waist. [name]’s arms around his neck..

god he wanted it so ba-

“ miles.. dude, i just got this girl’s number… she’s so fucking bad yo.. like she’s… her name is solange, like the singer..? I feel like I’m living in a early two thousands music video just thinking about her.” [name] laughed, his words pulling miles out of his thought process, and replacing his daydreams.. with a nightmare.. the thought of his best friend getting taken away from him..

it made him sick to his stomach to even think about.. so without warning.. he spoke up.. “ i heard she’s a bop.” as soon as that word left his mouth, he covered his mouth. now, was this true? yeah.. were the feelings he didn’t understand taking over? also yeah. but that didn’t mean he should try and ruin whatever [name] and solange got going on.. he knew better.

“ oh hell naw..” [name] sucked his teeth, his eyes looking around.. with no reasoning behind that. he just couldn’t look at miles right now, “ fuck you mean she a bop? i didn’t take you for the type to talk about women behind they back. mane we suppose to be better than these lowlifes who try to get underneath people skin. not cool.” [name] didn’t care if the rumors were true, he’d prefer to find out himself, but he made sure to check his friend on his words

and with that, he turned around on his heel. “ man, miles I can’t believe you said that. I can’t even look at you right now, now I know yo momma raised you better than that.” he let out a deep sigh and shook his head, “ you supposed to be my friend, solange already struggle with them damn rumors.. fuck wrong with you?” and with that he walked away.

“ wait-“ miles didn’t get to get any words in, before [name] was gone.. just like that.

___________________________________________________

did he lose his best friend? they hadn’t talked in weeks at this point, nearly a month. [name] would walk past him in the hallway now, not even sparing him a single glance.. if their eyes met in class [name] would turn away first.. miles tried to rack his brain.. to figure out why he said that about solange, and the only reason he could think of.. was the one he had been trying to avoid..

he was in love with [name].. he loved him, but he lost him.. and him being in love with him was why he lost him.. not because [name] felt uncomfortable.. miles was sure [name] also liked boys.. but because miles didn’t know how to handle liking another boy.. and because he didn’t know how to handle the first boy he liked being with someone he wasn’t.. a woman.

he was in love with [name].. but he accepted this too late.

[name] was gone.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales #across the spider verse #spiderman x reader #pavitr x reader #miles x you #gwen stacy x reader #miles morales x y/n #male reader #miles morales x male reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles x reader #earth 1610 miles fluff #earth 1610 miles morales x you #earth 1610 miles morales fluff

[igncrxntripley]

could you maybe write a rhea fic based off of matilda by harry styles?

matilda

a/n: this combines two of my favorite things i knew i needed to do it so ty to whoever suggested this

synopsis: rhea ensures y/n that it's okay to leave the bad things behind and grow (based off matilda by harry styles)

mentions: mentions of childhood trauma (no detaisl, nothing graphic), overall SFW, fem!reader, slight break of kayfabe

taglist: @auburnwrites @thesithdiaries @ripleyswhore

some people weren't lucky enough to escape a bad home life. they were stuck in the same cycles that had been repeated in their families for generations and were stuck in the same sad stories with a different retelling.

you, however, were one of the lucky ones. turning eighteen meant a new freedom for you, even if it was just as scary as what you'd endured your entire life. it meant teaching yourself how to live your life without being in fear, how to love what made you unique, and how to give love to others in ways that you'd never learned. it was incredibly difficult, but you met someone who made that process just a little bit easier.

demi came into your life at a time in which you were incredibly vulnerable. day to day life was tasking, you could barely look in the mirror without being ashamed of what you saw, and building connections with other people was almost impossible; but demi, or rhea as her fans knew her, lit a new flame inside of you. you were working as a member of the medical team during her time at NXT, and you were able to move up to the main roster together. during the course of your relationship you not only got to travel together, but you moved into a home together and you built a life with someone who truly cared about you.

what demi didn't know, was all of the baggage you'd been carrying on your shoulders. she knew bits and pieces, like that you didn't keep in contact with family or that you'd been in and out of therapy for some time, but she never knew the extent.

that all came crashing down on your birthday, though. when you went to grab the mail that day, a name and an address you hadn't expected to see was written on an envelope that clearly contained some kind of card.

you didn't even want to open it. the card sat on the coffee table for at least two hours as you stared at it with unease, and it may not have been the best idea, but you decided to open it with trembling hands. in a way you were proud of yourself for doing this, especially without demi home as she was at the gym, but the card also probably needed to just go into the garbage where you could forget it ever existed.

reading through the sickly sweet note written by your mom was stomach churning. she spoke as if nothing was wrong about your upbringing, as if she hadn't spent your entire life calling you awful names and pretending like you didn't exist. she gifted you some money - the only birthday present you'd ever received from her in your entire life - and your inner child was screaming in pain and sadness. how could your mom do this? how could she pretend like nothing was wrong about the way you were raised?

there was only one person you wanted in this moment, and it wasn't the person who wrote you this birthday card.

tears ran down your cheeks as you dialed demi's number with shaky hands. you did your best to hold back the sniffles and tears as you waited for her to answer, but the floodgates only shattered even more once you heard her beautiful voice on the other end.

"hey, birthday girl! you miss me already?" she teased softly. her accent always made you smile and she always knew how to brighten your day, but today felt so different. you didn't even have to say anything before she noticed how off you were and heard your sniffles. "honey, what's wrong?" demi asked softly. "are you...are you crying?"

you almost couldn't answer her, but somehow you found the courage to do so. "i-i need you..." your weak voice said quietly. "i just...it..." you could barely find the words to even articulate what you needed.

demi didn't need to hear another thing, though. she started packing her bag again and shot an apologetic look to her friends. "don't even worry, baby. i'm on my way." she said softly. she stayed on the phone as she rushed through the gym to get to her car. "i'll be home soon, and we're gonna talk all about it."

that thought alone made you sob harder; you'd gone this long without telling demi, and now you had to be prepared to spill everything. in a way it was your fault because you should have told her earlier, but nothing about this conversation was easy or desirable. "o-okay." you sniffled softly. "i'm sorry-"

"hey, don't apologize." demi interrupted. she never let you apologize for feeling the way you felt, as it was something you were used to always doing. "you sit tight, i'll be home in a few minutes."

demi was home in in a matter of ten minutes, and as soon as she walked through the door you were her main focus. "babygirl..." she said softly, taking in your puffy eyes and wet cheeks from where you were curled up on the couch. she dropped her things and sat next to you, pulling into one of her tight hugs that always felt like a protective shield. "it's okay, i'm here."

you hid in your girl's neck and let out soft cries, your fingers playing with her short hair. her hands rubbed your back as you got everything out of your system, and she looked down at you with her own sad eyes. "what happened?" demi whispered.

if you didn't tell demi now, it was never going to come out. so once she asked you what could make her girl cry so hard on a special day, you let everything out. you explained the birthday card, all of the hurtful things your mom had ever said, and why you distanced yourself from your family to begin with. she sat and listened patiently the entire time with her arms around your body. every so often, her thumb would come up to wipe away the tears from your cheeks and you could've sworn you saw her getting emotional as well.

eventually you finished your retelling of your life story; you'd ended up in demi's lap quite some time ago, and you looked down at your own as silent tears continued running down your cheeks. "everything about it just seemed...normal." you admitted quietly. "but i just suck it up, i guess. move on and pretend like it's not a big deal."

demi's hands came up to hold your cheeks. "look at me." she whispered softly, your eyes moving to meet hers. "you know you're allowed to move on, right?" you bit her lip and stared blankly at your girlfriend, almost to answer her question in the negative. "you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up."

the same sentiment had been communicated to you many times in your adulthood, but hearing it from demi was something that you couldn't describe. but you finally gave a small nod as more tears rolled down your cheeks. demi wiped those tears and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. "i'm your family now. you don't need them." her arms wrapped around you in a hug again, gently rocking you in her lap as she let you process her words.

from that moment on, demi promised to show you the love you'd never been shown. she was going to make you feel cherished every day she was with you, and knew in that moment that she was meant to be yours for the rest of your lives.

#wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe rhea ripley #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley imagine #{:requests:} #{:rhea ripley:}

[psychovigilantewrites]

It's Been Awhile

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Word Count: 5,500

Rating: Explicit, there is sex, R18

Summary: Reader visits Jason after some time.

Masterlist | Ao3

A/N: Hey guys! It's been awhile, hasn't it. Sorry it's not a Red Who update, but I promise I have not abandoned it yet.

I am extremely rusty, because I haven't been reading nor writing much lately. I have a full time job now, and I'm on my way to paving my career. I still think of you guys a lot, though. So thank you so much for sticking with me till now. To the new followers, you won't see much activity here, but I will return from time to time to post or scroll or check up on things.

I'm so rusty that a 5000 word count felt so long to me. I remember when I was churning like, 12k word count within a week. Lol, I would love to try that out again. Anyway, enough rambling. I hope you all enjoy! This is the most I've written in a while.

You kicked an empty beer can aside and heard its metallic clink against the brick wall as you walked down the narrow alley.

From all the years you spent in alleyways, you got used to the smell and the suspicious puddles. It was dimly lit, the only light source coming from the apartment windows above you. You stopped below the fire escape and jumped, hands grasping the end of the metal ladder to pull it down so you could climb up.

You counted the floors. Four, seven… twelfth. You stopped a floor below your target so you could carefully creep up to the thirteenth. You peeked through your target’s opened window carefully. His apartment was brightly lit and clean. You noticed all the surfaces like the coffee table at the centre of the living room, and the small dining table at the far side of the apartment near the main entrance, were clear of any clutter or stains. The light grey sofa near the window where you were at looked new, with fluffed cushions arranged on the seats along with a beige throw blanket.

Your target had his bare back facing you, standing at the kitchen where he was putting away the dishes in the overhead cabinet. He was shirtless, so you could see the muscles of his back ripple and flex when he reached above his head. You climbed through the window silently and entered his apartment.

“Hello there-” you started, but immediately ducked to avoid the flying mug aimed at you but missing and crashed into pieces behind you. “Wow, rude.”

“Christ,” Jason swore when he realised who you were. “What the fuck? You scared the shit outta me.”

You grinned at him. “Not my fault you’re losing your touch. You really didn’t hear me?”

“I was never able to hear you, you know that,” he scowled and crossed his arms while walking towards you. “Take off your shoes, you’re dragging dirt all over my house.”

“Not until you clean up the glass.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing a broom to sweep away the shards.

You sat down on his sofa. An awkward silence passed.

“So,” you looked around his apartment. It was familiar because you’ve been there so many times before, but he had obviously done some rearranging and bought new furniture. There were definitely more books on his shelf now. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Around… six months?”

“Without any messages or phone calls,” he frowned, looking at the floor that was now clean and clear.

“Jason,” you groaned, “You know I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, putting aside the dustpan. “It’s just- it was hard not knowing whether you were safe or not.”

“You think undercover has been easy for me too?” you demanded.

“I know it hasn’t- look, I don’t want to argue,” he admitted. He sat down on the sofa next to you. You felt the sofa dip at his weight. “I’ve been undercover too. I know how hard it is. I was just worried.”

You looked at him. His thick eyebrows were pulled down in a frown, his icy blue eyes staring at you intensely. He had a bruise that was healing on the upper corner of his left cheekbone, and a fresh new cut on his lower lip.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the only one I’ve known the longest. Not knowing whether you were dead or alive does things to a person,” he stressed.

“Well, I’m here now. Alive. And demanding you get me some liquor,” you winked.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but complied. “Since when did you start drinking casually?”

You hesitated. “Since Elisa.”

“I have whiskey, bourbon, gin, tequila and beer,” he listed the contents of his liquor cabinet.

“Gin, soda and lime, please,” you ordered. Jason immediately got to work, making you your cocktail. “Bring the bottle here as well. I might want a top up.”

He raised an eyebrow as he served you and put the bottle of gin down on the coffee table.

“Aww, you even put a little lime wedge. Cute,” you teased and sipped. “Yep, I was right. Did you always used to make your drinks this weak?”

“You never complained before,” he replied, watching you pour a little more gin in your glass. “The drinks in Cuba must be strong.”

You paused, lips still on the rim of the cup. Silence fell again, before you shrugged. “I’ve taken quite a liking to rum.”

You dug through the sling bag pouch you had across your body and took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jason protested.

“Uh, I’m lightshing a shigarette,” you answered with the cigarette already on your lips.

“One, no smoking in my house,” he snatched the cigarette from you and threw it on the table, “ Two, did Elisa smoke too?”

“She didn’t and then she did,” you scowled, “How long have you quit?”

“Four months,” he said, “I use these now. It’s helped a lot. I suggest you do the same.”

He took out a bright pink cylindrical metal tube with a straw-like tip from the pocket of his sweatpants and sucked the end. He exhaled a thick cloud of white mist that smelled of-

You burst into laughter.

“What?” he huffed.

“I’m sorry, but right now I’m just imagining bumping into you in a dark alleyway, all big and muscly, with your leather jacket and combat boots, and suddenly you smell like- what’s that, watermelon?”

“Yeah, so what?” he pouted, “I don’t even have the urge to smoke anymore.”

“You’re right, that’s good,” you smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, “So, what are you doing here? You back for good?”

“Officially, my role in the mission has ended,” you explained, “But I might have to go back from time to time… And…”

“You’re leaving again?” he guessed solemnly.

You pursed his lips and looked at him. “How much do you know about what I was doing?”

“Not much,” he began, “Just that you were undercover in Cuba, leading some sort of coup?”

“Not exactly leading a coup,” you corrected, “I was hired by a private organisation to infiltrate and, uh, get rid of corrupted leaders internally, and replace them with clean people so that the citizens can have a chance at improving the country.”

“So… American intervention to reestablish democracy and change regimes?” Jason smirked, “Like Cuba in the sixties? Bolivia, Ghana, Angola, and my personal favourite, Iraq?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended, “And not American. Not CIA. Not United Nations. Jason, these people are real. They have no other agenda but to give people freedom. We’re made of many countries and nationalities- mostly third world whose countries have been ravished by colonialism and intervention. Think Che Guevara, but bigger. Richer. Way richer. More organized. They’ve been recruiting ex-agents and spies, people who can’t be blackmailed or bribed with money. People who care about change.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing?” he realised, “Been playing Spy Kids with communists.”

“We’re not calling ourselves that,” you argued, “And we’re not going for the communist revolution. We want to go for a more organic change.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” he sighed in defeat.

“Because… I want you to come with me next,” you positioned your body to fully face him, crossing your legs on the sofa.

“What?” he asked incredulously, “And what, abandon Gotham?”

“Gotham doesn’t need people like you and me, Jay,” you whispered, “It needs Batman, and Nightwing, and Robin, and all of them. Gotham needs hope. People like us don’t belong here.”

“People like us?”

“You know what I mean,” you said sternly, “Our skills are needed and appreciated elsewhere.”

Another moment of silence of you and Jason just glaring at each other. You saw the way Jason’s eyes examined your expression, your body language. He knew you were completely serious about this.

You broke eye contact and took a few sips of your drink, feeling the contradictory refreshment and burn.

“Just think about it. You have time. I’m on a decently long break before going to the next mission,” you leaned back against the cushion and closed your eyes, “Mmm, I want to go to a nice spa. Get some new clothes. Watch movies. Source for some cool gadgets from Bruce. Spend some time with the family.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of months.”

You heard Jason sigh again. That’s how it was with Jason. Just constant sighing.

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. “Really?”

He was looking down into his own cocktail. “I don’t think I can go another six months not knowing what the fuck you’re doing, where you are, whether you’re dead or alive. So, yes. I’ll fuckin’ think about it.”

You felt bad. From the moment you told him you were leaving to go undercover, from the moment you went silent, you felt immensely guilty for leaving him. It was your first time without contact with him, and hell, it was difficult for you too. He was your first friend, your first family. Your life would not have been your life without Jason Todd.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching out to his face to make him look at you. “I missed you.”

He simply stared. He looked like he was struggling to say something, or struggling to stop himself from saying something.

Then, he looked away. “So, how was it?”

“Pretty fucking cool,” you admitted, relaxing back into your usual self. “I felt like I was in a movie. Being undercover without anyone knowing sucks ass, though. Couldn’t be myself. Couldn’t do whatever I wanted to do, say whatever I wanted to say. Fuck, it was so hard. That’s when the drinking started.”

He chuckled. “Liar.”

“Excuse me?” you turned to him.

“Liar,” he stated, “That’s not how the drinking started. Something happened.”

“A lot of things happen when you’re undercover, Jason,” you snapped.

“I’m just saying,” he smirked, “You may have gotten used to lying to everyone around you. But you can’t lie to me.”

You hated how right he was.

“Put on some tunes,” you demanded, “Like I said, I couldn’t be myself. So tonight, I am going to drink and I am going to do whatever I want, and say whatever I want.”

“And as always, I’m the victim,” he groaned.

“Hush, you love it,” you giggled.

Jason stood up, grumbling. “Just take off your damn shoes.”

You complied, kicking off your boots and placed them away against a wall. Jason had always been so neat and tidy, so you respected that whenever you were in his space. He was extremely particular about hygiene as well. You were used to having your shoes off in his house, to him sanitizing his hands whenever he took off his gloves, to him always wiping surfaces with isopropyl alcohol.

He was always so well groomed too, and you never needed to worry about toiletries whenever you stayed at his. Whatever you needed, or hell, didn’t need, he had them. You remembered when you were teens and you were complaining about acne. He taught you all about skincare, haircare. About shaving versus waxing. About scrubbing between your toes and behind your ears when you shower.

And Jason showered every single day, since he was always engaged in physical activities.

And because of that, Jason always smelled so fucking good.

You caught a whiff of the scent you were so familiar with when he sat back down next to you after turning on the speakers and grabbing two bags of chips. He smelled like the cologne he wore, which was a deep pine scent with undertones of chocolate and sage. It mixed well with the refreshing raspberry of his shampoo.

“You met Grayson yet?” he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Mmm?” you mumbled, still lost in his scent. “No. You’re the first.”

“Good,” he grumbled back.

“Didn’t want to make you jealous or anything,” you giggled, poking his cheek.

He swatted away your hand, but a small smile played on his lips. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

You wanted to retort, but let it go and took another big gulp from your glass. You topped the ice with some more gin and squeezed the lime in. Talking about Jason’s weird competitive streak with Dick would always end up with Jason sulking. You felt a little tipsy already.

“Hmm,” you hummed. And then, you had a brilliant idea. You stood up and you took your tight black t-shirt off, leaving you in your black bra.

“Why are you stripping?” Jason raised his voice.

“It’s summer, and it’s hot,” you shrugged, sitting back down closer to him. He was also shirtless, and you felt the heat radiating off his skin. “And it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“It’s different when you’re bleeding from a stab wound and I’m pouring vodka on it,” he retorted.

“Whatever,” you scoffed, “ And you know what? This place was a smoking area before I left. And I told you that tonight, I’m going to be doing whatever I want. So.”

You reached forward to your pack of cigarettes Jason threw on the coffee table, but he grabbed your hand.

“Nuh-uh. No.”

You glanced at his grip on your wrist and back up at him. “You really want to do this, Todd?”

His expression changed to some sort of smug look that he always had when presented with a challenge. “Let’s see whether Cuba made you rusty, then.”

You smirked at him. And then, you swung your other fist towards his face, but he blocked your punch with the palm of his free hand.

You lifted yourself off the couch and used your body weight and momentum to catch him off his balance. It worked, he was on the floor, but he was so strong and it was difficult to free your arms from his grip.

So, you played dirty.

You carefully kneed his groin. Gently. You didn’t want to actually hurt him. Just to discombobulate him.

Jason swore, and his grip on you loosened just a teeny tiny bit. But that was all you needed to release yourself by twisting his arm to an angle that forced him to turn his body face down to the floor.

You continued twisting.

“Ow, ow, ow!” He complained.

“Do you yield?” You breathed.

“Yes! I yield, holy shit,” he whined.

You released him and greeted him with a shit eating grin when he propped himself back up. You had always been the better fighter. Even though Jason was bigger and stronger, you were more lithe, fast, and flexible. You used momentum, anatomical range of motion, and precise techniques in your martial art. That’s why you were always silent and could sneak up on him. That’s why you used to be the stealthy assassin, while Jason favoured loud guns and explosives.

“You know you will lose, yet you always challenge me,” you pointed out, “That’s why I think you’re a brat.”

“Like a spoiled kid?” he said, “Since when?”

“Not in that context,” you rolled your eyes. “Like, in bed.”

“Huh?” Jason sat down and looked up at you with genuine confusion. You joined him on the sofa again. This time, he didn’t stop you from lighting your cigarette. You inhaled. You exhaled.

“You know, like you have the dominant and the submissive,” you started to explain, “A brat is under the submissive category.”

“The hell?” he protested, “I am not submissive.”

“Maybe at first,” you smirked slyly, slowly closing the gap between you and him. “That’s what a brat is. You like to fight. You’re stubborn. You like to say no. But ultimately, you want to betamed.”

To make a point, you crawled towards him and boldly straddled his waist.

“Wh-what- what the fuck are you doing?” Jason sputtered, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“That’s why you like to fight me, right?” you continued, resting one palm flat on his bare chest, your other on his shoulder while you held your cigarette. “You want me to make you submit.”

You blew smoke onto his face.

“Stop that,” he gripped the side of your arms, “Did Cuba make you flirty too?”

“I always flirt with you.”

“Not like this,” he shook his head. “What, did Elisa have to seduce men? Women?”

“Unfortunately, no,” you pouted, “Elisa had to keep things strictly professional between all her assets.”

The truth was you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“So, it’s been a while,” he stated.

“It’s been a while,” you agreed. “How about you? Any women? Men?”

“Please,” he scoffed, “Just Grayson being an ass.”

“So, it’s been a while for you, too,” you teased.

“But I’m not a perv like you,” he huffed.

“We can change that,” you leaned in closer, watching the way he had subtly wet his lips, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

“Stop,” he repeated, “You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough to make you yield.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re going to regret in the morning,” he pressed.

“Why would you think I’m going to regret anything?” You asked.

“Because you’ve never done this before,” he frowned, “This is coming out of nowhere.”

You’ve been pining for him ever since you hit puberty.

“Do you think you’re going to regret it in the morning?”

He looked away from your intense, questioning gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

That was the reason you gave yourself for so long. You didn’t want to tell Jason how you felt because you were scared he wouldn’t see you the same anymore. Or that he would feel self-conscious around you. That he would reject you. That because of your selfish feelings, your relationship would be ruined.

You put out the cigarette in your glass.

“When I was Elisa Martinez,” you began slowly, “I couldn’t be myself, obviously. I couldn’t drink my favourite drink, or watch my favourite shows. You know how deep undercover is like, right? The complete erasure of your identity. Your history. I know some people who actually started to believe their cover story, to the point where they forgot who they really were.”

You paused to make sure you wouldn’t regret whatever you were going to say next.

“Elisa Martinez didn’t know Jason Todd. She never grew up with him. She never… fell in love with him…”

You noticed Jason’s eyes widened, and his grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

“And it was horrible, Jason,” you expressed, “I felt so lonely. So one day when I was alone in my apartment in Havana, I told myself that I wouldn’t be one of those people who gets lost in their cover identities. Unsure and confused about who they were. I vowed that when I got back here, I would truly be myself. No more hiding my feelings or my beliefs. No more stopping myself from getting what I wanted. Because I didn’t realise how having your own identity was a privilege that people took for granted.”

His eyes softened, but he still looked unsure of how to respond.

“So no,” you stated firmly, “I won’t regret it in the morning. Even if you don’t feel the same way, and you don’t want anything to do with me after this, I will not regret telling you how I feel. Because six months of struggling with identities was enough.”

Still straddling him, you crossed your arms to make a point.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. He let go of his grip on you and ran his hand through his hair again. A habit that you noticed he did when he was either stressed or nervous. “Wow. I mean. I didn’t expect that at all.”

“I know it seems like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I’ve felt like this for years,” you confessed.

And that Jason did what you didn’t expect him to do. He reached out to cup your face, and then smiled at you.

You learned that Jason had many types of smiles. The smile that was really more threatening than it was comforting. The smile that meant he had a devious idea in his head. The smile that didn’t reach his eyes, when he was shaking hands with someone he didn’t like. The smile when he found something funny. The smile when he was thinking of the past.

And the smile that he only reserved for you.

It wasn’t just the upturned corner of his lips that made the smile. It was also the softness of his eyes, the relaxing of his brows. And the actual smile was just a brief moment, followed by his gaze into your eyes. He smiled like that at you during the first time you successfully threw a punch. And that time when you won first place at the science fair. Sometimes he would smile like that when you went on about history, and geopolitics, and the latest episode of your favourite show.

“Me too,” he simply said.

And there it was. The last time you felt this happy was when Lady Shiva told you she had nothing left to teach you.

“But you’re wrong about one thing,” Jason broke you out of your bliss.

“Huh?”

Suddenly he grabbed your hips tightly and threw you off of him, onto the empty space of the sofa. You gasped in surprise at the sudden movement, and before you knew it, he was on top of you, holding you down. He put his face above yours, lips only inches away that you could feel his hot breath.

“I am not a brat.”

And then he kissed you.

His cut lip grazed yours softly at first before sucking in your bottom lip with force. He broke off the kiss and grinned at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

And before he knew it, you had flipped him over, causing him to land on his back onto the floor with a loud thud.

Your knee was at his crotch again, a silent threat for him to stay still.

But you knew what had Jason blushing was your hand around his throat.

“Tsk, tsk, Jay,” you whispered in his ear, making a point to softly brush your lips on his lobe. “Don’t be naughty. You know you can’t take me.”

“I- wha-” he sputtered, and then tried to move.

“Nuh uh,” you warned, putting more pressure on his crotch with your knee, “Stay still.”

He continued to look at you in surprise, or confusion, or wonder. You weren’t sure.

What you were sure about was that you felt his cock begin to harden against you.

You chuckled softly to yourself. The truth was, you made it all up just to antagonize him. You didn’t really think he was a brat at first. In fact, all of your previous fantasies were of him dominating you, choking you, pounding into you while your hands were tied to the bed posts. Now that you knew he was into this, though, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

“I’m going to get up. But you,” you squeezed his neck a little tighter, “You stay like this and do what I say, okay?”

You felt him gulp under your grip and then he nodded.

You stood up and put your hands on your hips. Looking down at him, you appreciated the view.

His hard chest was going up and down fast as he was panting. You saw a flush grow from his neck to his cheeks. Your gaze went down his abs, to his crotch, where you saw the outline of his hard cock and a small dark spot at the tip.

“Take off your pants for me,” you commanded.

He just stared at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to threaten you?”

You gently stepped on his cock with your toes.

“Okay, okay!” he hurriedly slid off his sweatpants, revealing his hard on.

You never saw his cock before. You sort of knew it would be large based on the outlines whenever he wore sweatpants or boxers. But, wow.

He was perfectly long, and perfectly thick, and perfectly uncut. Though, his foreskin was now stretched back, revealing his head that was red and pulsating, desperate to be touched.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” he grinned, his confidence and smug attitude back.

You sat back down on the couch and crossed your legs, making him confused.

“Well?” you prompted, “Start stroking.”

“What?” he asked, “Down here?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “Go on.”

He slowly reached for his cock and gave it a squeeze, eliciting a small moan from his lips. You bit your lips at the sound and the sight.

Fuck, he was so hot. You had dreamed of watching him jerk himself off for so long, and now there he was, sprawled on the floor at your feet.

He started to really stroke himself now, his eyes fluttered close and his mouth parted in heavy breaths.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

You saw that his cock was now slick and wet with his precum. You wanted to taste it so bad. You wanted him to shove his cock down your throat and mercilessly fuck your face until you gagged and cried.

Not today. He will have his turn some other time.

“Okay, stop,” you said in a sing-song voice.

“Wh-what? No,” he refused, still fucking his fist.

“Baby,” you stood up, “I said stop.”

He groaned and opened his eyes, his arm stilling around his dick.

You proceeded to take off your jeans, and your bra, causing your breasts to fall. Exposed to him for the first time, Jason was actually smacking his lips.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I want to touch you,” he whined and moved to get up.

“No,” you denied, “Stay down there for me.”

You walked over to his head, placed your feet on either side, and then dropped to your knees so you were hovering your pussy right above his lips.

“This is fine too,” he mumbled, hands going straight to your ass, kneading them. Then, he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal.

“Mmm, you smell divine,” he whined.

That did it. You just knew that you were drenched.

He started to mouth you through the fabric, kissing your folds, nibbling on them.

“Please, take them off,” he begged.

You complied, only because you couldn’t stand not being touched. The moment you returned to your position, Jason attacked you with his mouth.

“Fuck!” you gasped.

It was as if he was making out with your pussy. Wet lips on wet lips, he licked you everywhere, from between your folds, to your opening, to your clit. It was like he was starved for you. Hungry for you. All the while, the sound of wetness and his muffled moans filled the room.

“Jason,” you sighed. You felt the familiar warmth spread at the base of your core.

He knew what you wanted. You felt him focus on your clit with his tongue, and then a finger entering you slowly.

You let out a high pitch whine when he started finger fucking you while ravishing your clit at the same time.

A second finger.

He was hitting the right spot, so deep inside you. You had thought about this as well. Whenever you saw his fingers on a trigger, or that time when he was making pizza dough and kneading. You imagined his thick, calloused fingers inside you, fucking you the way he was right now.

He quickened his pace and added more pressure to your clit.

You knew he knew you were close. You could feel it. Your body was tense, and you knew you were tightening around his fingers. You gripped his hair with both your hands, because you just needed to hold onto something.

And then you were coming.

You didn’t know you were screaming until you felt a gush of wetness between your legs, splashing everywhere.

Jason fucking Todd made you squirt.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you apologised. You stood up too quickly and didn’t realise your legs were jelly, so you ended up tripping onto the wet floor next to him.

“That was so hot, don’t be sorry,” he looked at you incredulously. His face was glistening with your juices.

And fuck, was that a sight to behold.

You couldn’t help but grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him.

He crawled on top of you, sucking your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth. One hand roamed your body while the other propped him up above you. He squeezed your breasts and your nipples, and went down to your waist, between your legs. He gripped your thigh from below and pushed it up so you were spread open.

He hooked your leg on his shoulder.

And without warning, he pushed his cock into your wet, sensitive pussy.

“Fuck!” you screamed as he bottomed inside you.

He filled you up so perfectly, that you never wanted to be empty ever again. He stretched you out so beautifully, that you thought your walls would just be molded into shape specifically for his cock.

“Hnngh,” he groaned, “You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight.”

You felt him thrust deep inside you, reaching all the spots that made you writhe in pleasure. He began pounding you hard, wet slaps made even wetter as you leaked all over his cock.

You weren’t gasping for air. It was so intense that you couldn’t breathe. Your mouth was opened in a silent scream until you actually had to remind yourself to inhale.

There were no words that you could form in that moment. Just absolutely filthy, vulgar sounds that rang through his apartment.

Through teary eyes, you watched him above you.

He was panting, breathing hard. You weren’t sure whether the moisture on his face was from sweat or your juices earlier. His dark hair had fallen down to poke his eyes, his brows pulled down in a frown. His chest had beads of sweat dripping, trickling down to his abs.

He moved his hips with precise and sharp movements. Every thrust into you was accompanied by gasps and whispers of words you couldn’t hear.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he praised breathily, “I want to watch you come again.”

It wouldn’t take too long.

You were already feeling like you were going to unravel. The heat pooling again, even more intense than your previous orgasm.

Jason increased his pace, and then reached down to your pussy to thumb your clit.

You screamed.

It was like a wave that pulled you down and released you. You felt your body tighten and your walls clench and unclench. You felt hot liquid release from your core, just like waves crashing.

Before you knew it, you felt empty. Jason had pulled out and jerked himself off over you.

He came long and hard in a loud groan. White ribbons of cum shot out of his pulsating cock, reaching all the way to your face.

He collapsed next to you on the floor, huffing and panting.

You felt drowsy all of a sudden, but so fucking relaxed.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, “Can’t move. Can’t think. Shhh.”

You giggled and scooted closer to him, pressing yourself onto his sweaty, sticky skin and rested your head on his chest.

You felt his heartbeat drum against his ribcage.

He rested his arm on your head and played with your hair.

“I can’t believe our first time was on the floor,” he complained.

“I think it describes us perfectly,” you closed your eyes and smiled.

He kissed the top of your head. After a beat, he asked, “Will you tell me what happened in Cuba?”

“One day,” you told him, “I need time to process it as well.”

“Fair enough,” he responded, “So, uh. Are we like, official then?”

“If you want to be.”

“Do you want to be?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I’ve been pining for you for a long time.”

“Me too,” he confessed, “We should have done this sooner.”

“I don’t think so,” you thought, “I think right now is the perfect time. We figured ourselves first, we explored what we wanted to do. We found our reason. Well, I did, at least.”

“So you’re really serious about this then?” he asked, “Fully committed?”

“One hundred percent,” you stated, “I think that we can make real change. Slow change. But change nonetheless.”

“Okay, then,” he sighed.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’m in,” he said, “I can’t promise you that I will stay for the cause. I can’t promise you that I will even believe in it. But I can’t do the silence again. You have no idea how difficult it was for me, these past six months.”

You frowned. You wondered what happened. You will ask another time.

“But I can promise you that you will always have me,” he continued, “I don’t know what this is, and what these missions need you-or us- to do, but you will always have my support.”

You felt deeply moved. “Thank you,” you whispered.

You didn’t have to worry about your identity anymore. About being confused, about being corrupted by the roles you had to play.

Because as long as Jason was there, you were you.

#jason todd #dc comics #red hood #jason todd/reader #y/n #jason todd x reader #red hood/reader #batman #batfamily

[writing-whump]

👀 Do I feel that *a little confrontation* between Matt and Hector is coming? Probably with Seline arriving earlier from her trip, just in the middle of.... well.

Isaiah, hang in there, you self-destructive boy, you have a whole team to take care of you, when they finally stop trying to kill each other... 🔥🔥🔥

(with their glances, of course)

Let's see nonny, what I can deliver ;) super inspiring ask btw, I was going in circles with another version, but this got me into a new direction I like much more :D Have some angstying, pained Isaiah with Hector and Matthew as caretakers.

At your mercy

Isaiah was helpless.

Since he was a pup, he understood that the world was all about power. The world of humans, too, but especially the world of wolves. Strenght of the body, of the shadow, resilience, capability, what you were able to give and what you were able to take. All of this decided your position, your respect, your comfort, how others treated you and cared for you.

Being useful, being influential, all of that was power.

And Isaiah knew this and he knew he could achieve it. From his name to his shadow to his natural talent, if he worked his ass off, he was going to get it. He could use it in the right way now, to protect the people he cared about and help those with less of it.

It was a better way to use it than what Father taught him, but it was still all about power.

But right now, he had none.

Isaiah sat in the passenger's seat of his younger, volatile brother's car. The tightness in his chest was constant, like a weight crushing him, but it had been like that for a few days. Gradually worsening. He could handle it. The burning hot knife, however, that was stabbing him right into the heart in irregular intervals, was a different matter.

When the stab came, he gasped for breath and shut his eyes. When the knife twisted, the world disappeared and for that eternal crazy moment, he was aware of nothing but the white-hot pain that took all over his senses.

Slowly, he came back to himself, to Hector's voice calling his name, to his vision hazily coming back together.

The twisting slowed. His heart drummed against his ribcage painfully, but only aftershocks of the attack, wave, stab, whatever appropriate term he was supposed to call it.

Then the nausea came, like filling a water with glass. It started in his stomach, which always stopped whatever digestive process was going on whenever his chest got too heavy. Like the heart episode prevented it from working. He was bloated up like he ate a ton instead of a glass of champagne and a small piece of bread and churning like it was filled with water.

And the water level rose after the knife got itself out, rising and flooding his lungs and ribcage and shooting up his throat.

Isaiah clenched his jaw tightly together, gulping against the water shooting up. He was not going to throw up all over Hector's car. That was simply unacceptable.

Isaiah pressed his forehead against the coolness of the window, panting for breath as he fought down the water level. It went down, slow milliliter after another. The urge tempered off, but the nausea didn't. He still felt sick and the car's movement wasn't helping.

"Isaiah? Hey, talk to me. Your breathing is-"

Isaiah glanced Hector's way, feeling a mix of humiliation and confirmation of absolute failure. He had let him see him like this.

Hector knows, Hector knows, Hector knows.

The chanting was scary in its insistence, especially since there was no logical reason why Hector should know. The pain didn't exactly write a glowing heading 'this is what Father did to me during training' on the top of his head.

It also didn't make sense why Isaiah was so terrified of him knowing, but here they were.

"Can I do something?" Hector asked, voice wavering.

Isaiah sighed, scrunching his forehead, watching Hector. He expected to be thrown off the car any moment, with Hector seeing this...this weakness in him.

Wolves didn't get sick and pained like this. And if they did, they had their shadows. And if they didn't have their shadows, they didn't let it show on them and they didn't become helpesss.

Isaiah was the eldest, the heir, the executioner. Even when all else failed, he had taken the power, the teachings and the techniques and made himself useful. Became powerful and influential in his own right, helping others, using that authority, that control...

Without it, everything was falling apart. He was a worthless piece of space. There was a scale in his head, between powerful to useful, with neutral good for nothings somewhere in the middle.

At the other side of the spectrum? Burden.

That's what he was becoming, the longer he was sitting here, biting back groans of pain and waves of nausea, while waiting for another stab of the knife to twist his insides and let it all disappear in a blur of electric pain.

"Almost there. Hang on just a bit longer."

Isaiah let his head lol towards Hector, watching him. His eyesbrows furrowed in a line, met in the center of his forehead. Like a bird flying in the distance, the two meeting lines like wings. Fascinating.

Maybe he was a bit more off than he realized.

Hector made another turn and Isaiah recognized the street. They almost reached the parking lot by his apartment.

Ah. Matthew was going to be there, with a 'told you so'. Or maybe he wouldn't be there at all.

Since Matt found out, Isaiah expected him to leave any day. He caught himself checking every morning, if his things were still in the cupboard. Who would want a pack member with debilitating pain like Isaiah's? Not to mention a leader.

The knife hit at that thought, successfully distracting him with agony shooting from his struggling heart into his chest. That was the explosion of pain there, but it kept running up his tissue, veins and muscles up until his fingertips. Small electrical jolts of pain.

The car stopped. Isaiah's vision came back before his hearing that was filled with thudding of his bloodstream. Hector said something, the furrowed little bird on his forehead even clearer. Then he left his vision, the car shaking as he left it.

That's when the water rose, as Isaiah should have known, should have expected it by now. But the shock of Hector leaving and closing the car made him hesitate just long enough for the water to overflood him.

Isaiah managed only to jerk forward as the flood of vomiting rocked it out of his throat all over the floor and carpet. He gagned once more from the sensation, the nausea hitting its peak. Isaiah struggled against the seatbelt digging into him as he strained, more watery vomiting going thicker and slimier at the end.

The car door on his side opened. The whole thing couldn't have taken longer than the time Hector needed to circle the car from the outside. So close. And Isaiah still couldn't make it.

The failure had him gagging and choking on air over himself as Hector crouched down next to him, hurriedly opening the seatbelt to help Isaiah turn outside.

The cold night air hit his lungs, the shock making him gasp, but he could finally breathe.

He coughed and heaved emptily as Hector took him by both shoulders, letting Isaiah grab onto his in turn. "Okay. Shit. You are alright. Breathe."

Isaiah spat on the ground between them, sagging in Hector's hold, his hands letting go of Hector's shoulders. But Hector still held his, guiding Isaiah to lean his forehead against his chest.

"Sorry-" Isaiah choked out, "sorry, I'm so sorry-"

"That's what got you so freaked out? Jesus, man. I don't care about the damn car."

Isaiah let his hands hang limply by his sides, dead weight against Hector, halfway out of the passenger seat. But Hector was steady. Strong and way more muscular than the suit showed, hard-coiled muscles under the clothes.

"Seriously. I have had so many worse things happen in there. Blood and bloody vomit and weirdly looking weeping injuries...heck, maybe I shouldn't have a fancy car, when I wanna be driving wolves around. Get injured way too easy."

Isaiah didn't know if Hector was saying that just for his benefit, but he didn't have the energy to care, letting his eyes close shut to prepare himself for the next part. Just letting himself breathe was nice.

"Thanks. I can make it on my own from here," he tried.

Hector scoffed. "Right. I don't see any wings sprouting from your back though, so that would be a no. I'm coming with you."

Isaiah squeezed his eyes shut in discomfort. He didn't want Hector seeing him like this, but that didn't mean Matthew was any better. If he was still there. He was scared to find out.

"...Or we can just go home to my place. You don't have to stay here, when you clearly don't want to," Hector offered. "Arnie will be glad."

If Isaiah was torn before, the mention of Arnie settled things. He already let two out of his four most important people in the world find out. No way he was letting a third one in on it. "Staying..."

Hector huffed a frustrated breath. "Alright. Come here." He looped his arm around Isaiah, easily lifting him to his feet and closing the car.

Isaiah lost himself somewhere on the ride in another stab of the knife. They just entered the elevator and he stiffened in Hector's arms as it hit, hands curling up in weird directions. Hector held him tighter but the movement of the elevator going up had Isaiah's head spinning and floating away in sparkles of pain.

...

"-knew this, and you still let him go there? To a wolf meet in his condition? They would have torn him to little scraps! What kind of pathetic second lets something like that happen?"

"Excuse me?! You didn't even know. Some brother you are..."

Isaiah frowned. He was lying on something soft and familiar. The fluffy white pillows from the living room, piled up underneath him.

There was a growl sounding a lot like Hector before a fight. "How dare you-"

"What the fuck was I supposed to do? Glue him to the freaking chair? He is an adult and an experienced wolf, he knows what he is doing-"

"Knows what he is doing! That was the act of someone with a death wish-..."

There was a sudden silence, striking after the yelling.

"I-I don't think," Matthew stumbled over his words. "He doesn't want to...like...he just doesn't really care, you know? About...yeah."

Another growl from Hector, more pained than frustrated. Then angry stamping of feet. "I don't understand. What is this? What's happening?" His voice sounded more distant, muffled, like he covered his face with his hands. "It doesn't make any sense. This isn't him. He is the executioner, the best wolf, the most fearsome fighter...he doesn't...he didn't make friends and have students and meddle with packs and leave his family behind to do solo crap in the city with lost causes like you..."

"I don't think that's the point."

Hector snarled. "What? You meant to tell him you know- that he told you?!"

"No. I don't know what happened. But he is a martyr and he suffers for everyone. If you and Arnie struggled with something, like with his absence, then he took on way way worse."

"Are you telling me it doesn't matter why he lef-"

"I'm telling you it shouldn't. I don't know what happened and I don't fucking care. I believe in him. In the Isaiah he is now. And that Isaiah would never hurt anybody, never do something without a reason, never let anyone get hurt if he could help it..."

"This is a farce. A mask. This can't be the real one."

"What if that before was the mask? What if he wasn't that different than he is now? There must have been one hell of a reason. I can tell something was super fucked up about your family and I wasn't even there."

Isaiah decided he had allowed this long enough.

He wanted to protest, but instead of a coherent sound, all he managed was a groan.

Another death silence followed.

"Isaiah?" Matthew's voice sounded closer.

Isaiah opened his eyes into slits. His chest was still hurting, the room was spinning. It was hard to focus on one single point.

"Hey, man." Matthew came up by Isaiah's ear, sounding relieved and happy, like Isaiah managed a great feat by keeping his eyes open. "You blacked out for a second. How are you feeling?"

Isaiah's mouth twitched. "You guys are...yelling too much. Can't sleep."

Matthew cracked a smile at that. "Yeah, sorry about that. But your brother is an idiot."

"Hey! I'm right here!" Hector protested. Isaiah relaxed at hearing the feistiness return into Hector's voice. He didn't like the broken edge from before one bit.

Isaiah watched Matthew with wide eyes, studying him as much as the blurry sight would allow. It was making him nauseous to try, but Matthew didn't look angry. Was he seeing wrong?

"What is it?" Matthew leaned closer, noticing his intent gaze.

"Help me up?" Isaiah said feebly, cursing the weakness of his own voice.

"Sure thing." Matthew shuffled around to get on the sofa next to Isaiah before hoisting him up. The rapid change of elevation had Isaiah groaning and squeezing his eyes shut, before he settled against Matthew's side. His breathing was still fast but came easier again.

Isaiah sighed, comforted by Matthew's warmth and strength, the other worries quieting for a second.

"Let's get him out of those clothes." Hector suddenly sounded much closer too. "I'll find him something in the room, you help him with the shirt," Hector bossed, although he had never been to Isaiah's room before.

Matthew huffed, but bowed his head to work on Isaiah's button-up with quick fingers. Isaiah's eyes widened at the plan and its resolute realization.

Hector brought new clothes and then to Isaiah's horror, knelt down to work on unzipping Isaiah's shoes, partly covered in vomit.

Both of them worked silently, getting him into a loose jersey and sweatpants. It was much easier to breathe in those, even if the weight didn't go away.

Hector obviously decided that if no one told him what to do, he could make stuff up. The next time Isaiah blinked, he was shoving a glass of water uncomfortably close to his face. "Drink this."

"I don't know if-"

"Just drink it," Hector said in frustration. Isaiah was so surprised at being bossed around he let Hector hold the rim to his lips and took a couple of careful sips. The nausea wasn't as strong as before, but he was worried it would upset the fragile balance again.

"Any painkillers?" Hector looked at Matthew as if Isaiah wasn't in his right mind to tell him.

Matthew shook his head. "Nothing that works against it very well. Would have to be specific, but there was no diagnosis..."

Hector grunted something in acknowledgment.

"Anything else we can do?" Matthew said when Isaiah's face slid down from his shoulder to his chest.

"Not really," Isaiah mumbled. "Stay?"

Matthew leaned back against the sofa, arm loosely wrapped around Isaiah's back to hold him in place. "Where would I go?"

Isaiah nuzzled against him. "Hmmmm. Thought...you would be angry." He spasmed as a surprising stab came down on him. It was a smaller one this time though. They were dying down.

Matthew tensed up under him the same, grip tightening. "I'm too busy being worried right now."

Isaiah went limp as the spasm passed, fingers tingling with the aftershocks. He was too tired to even react with a decent wave of nausea. It flared up and settled down again.

Isaiah forced his eyes open one more time, looking for Hector.

His brother was cross-sitting on the floor, his back to them. He didn't glance up or look their way, but he leaned his temple lightly against Isaiah's leg, which was hanging all the way to the floor.

Isaiah's eyes weighed a ton. He actually felt sleepy, which never happened during the episodes. This was somehow relaxing.

He was totally helpless.

Somehow that didn't feel so scary today.

@bellysoupset

#sickfic #emeto #hurt/comfort #whump #whump writing #bromance #werewolf wip #my writing #Isaiah

[moongurl95]

7 Times the Charm

GN!MC / May or may not be an alternate version of a long fic I'm working on, but I've hit a writing rut and this prompt by @serpensortiamaxima (this is dedicated to you too OP!) got me churning out this piece until 4AM (now i can sleep with my brain empty! XD) also divider credits here

Summary: It was no secret that the Three Broomsticks can also be considered a social gathering for the latest news, and Sirona Ryan, the owner was at the neck of it. Or, a glimpse of a blooming relationship she'd observed since that Troll Attack in Hogsmeade. (One-shot also posted on AO3)

“Oh, there’s a face I haven’t seen before.” This may be the first time Sirona Ryan’s memory seemed to have failed her as she was confident in remembering her clientele.

“It’s my first time here.” The student had replied almost sheepishly, which explained everything to the bar owner. Of course, she’d heard about the latest talk in the streets of a Hogwarts student having been caught in a dragon attack.

“Welcome! Butterbeers on me.” Sirona assumed that the student was a transferee, after all, she’d never heard of a student starting this late in their Hogwarts education. “Glad to see you two escape injury.” She glanced between the two students with growing worry, having planned to check on the other shopkeepers and residents once the crowd had buzzed down from the recent Troll Attack in Hogsmeade.

“Thanks to this one. Single-handedly took down a Troll!”

“Is that right? Well done.” Of course Sirona couldn’t take the Sallow boy’s claim seriously, not when she was sure of the way the boy had looked admiringly at his new classmate. Before she could decide to play matchmaker however, they were interrupted by some brutes’ arrival.

The second time Sirona next saw the pair was on a relatively calm day in the Three Broomsticks, she considered herself not eavesdropping at all while the two students had quite the passionate discussion over a round of Butterbeer.

“Honestly! Why do you have to trouble yourself on a trip to get something for my sister? Anne wrote she’d be delighted by your very presence alone.”

“Because Sebastian, it’s common courtesy to bring a gift when visiting your friend’s family.”

Now this seemed to be a development. Sirona had to keep herself looking busy as she wiped away at the mugs on the counter, casting a knowing glance by the corner table to quickly spy the flustered look on the Sallow boy’s face.

Sirona could only hope to Merlin that his ‘friend’ fancied him the way he seemed to.

In exchange for asking her assistance on where to find her friend, Lodgok, Sirona in turn thought to request the new student’s help in retrieving her box of letters. Though she never would have predicted they’d also come as a pair this third time around.

“I’m not letting you go alone. And for Merlin’s sake, why a mine of all places? Do you happen to know what sort of creatures could possibly live there??”

Sirona could only watch in amusement as the Sallow boy was being pushed out by his classmate in an attempt to shush him, “Alright, alright – I’ll tell you all about it on the way. Just get going so we can at least finish this while there’s still sun out.”

The door to the Three Broomsticks had shut after their departure so Sirona could only guess how the rest of their day would go. One thing was for sure though, if she’d initially thought the Sallow boy only fancied his new friend before, then now Sirona was absolutely certain the boy was now smitten.

Maybe there was good reason to owl Mirabel after all, nothing better than an entertaining chat about young love over tea.

The next time Sirona served Butterbeer to the new student at the counter, she was half expecting them to be with a familiar face. Instead, they sat alone, looking quite under the weather as they seemed to stare unseeing into the tankard, Sirona was just about ready to lend a listening ear after she’d served all the other customers’ orders when the student had stood up just as a familiar Slytherin entered the premises.

Sirona was quick to notice the two of them weren’t on speaking terms as they passed by each other – the Sallow boy taking the stool beside where his friend just left. She chose to quietly serve him his share of Butterbeer before she continued to keep busy.

“Sirona, would you apologize if you said something… true but ended up sounding… mean?”

So that was how it was… “Well dear, first of all, it’s not what you said, but how you made them feel. So yes, an apology should be expected.”

“But… how?”

Sirona raised an eyebrow at him as if to say the answer should be obvious enough, but ended up sighing in exasperation as the boy looked pitifully at a lost, “If you aren’t ready to tell them personally, then a letter might suffice, and don’t make it just a simple apology either – at least, offer to take them somewhere you’d think would be meaningful to them.”

“A letter! That’s just it, of course!” Sirona watched as the boy waved his hand in thanks as he rushed out the doors, she hoped everything would turn up for the better the next time she saw those two together.

It didn’t however, for just days before the 5th, Sirona herself had received an unmarked letter notifying her of Lodgok’s passing – his gentle soul did not deserve the fate he was dealt with by his brother’s hands. Yet also here in her supposedly lively pub, sat another lost soul who she dearly tried to keep from straying to the Hog’s Head by keeping the Sallow boy’s tankard refilled with Butterbeer.

She’d heard he just lost his uncle and that the Sallow girl also informed him late, the poor twins were now left all alone.

And just when Sirona felt the boy slipping away, from the doors came in a face who she hoped would be successful in reeling Sallow from his darkest thoughts.

“Sebastian!”

Sirona was glad to see the boy encased in a hug, he dearly looked like he needed one…

“You’re safe now. I promise, I wouldn’t let them take you away.”

It may have well been a secret language only the two students shared with each other, but Sirona was nonetheless relieved to see the boy’s shoulders relax, the undeniable soft sob that escaped him was a sound that would forever tug at her heart.

And it seemed that heart wrenching sob echoed around the wooden panels of her establishment as the once lively pub was filled with students of varying years, all of which ranged from sniffling for their parents to a quiet uncertainty that loomed over the older ones.

Hogwarts was under attack, and despite how Sirona herself could not believe such a situation would even come about, the evacuated students who took shelter in the Three Broomsticks were enough to leave her unsettled for what was to come.

“Sirona! Are they here? Did they at least stop by here?” She could only shake her head in response, clearly seeing the Sallow boy was distraught.

“Sebastian! We have to settle ourselves and wait for Black’s announcement –“

“They could still be there, Ominis!” His next words were barely audible but somehow Sirona managed to catch a hint of it, “What if they’re fighting for their lives – alone? Against a Goblin Rebellion!”

“Attention, students!” Black did make an announcement right after that, clearing his throat as if today was a normal occurrence, “I am proud to announce that my esteemed faculty has handled the – uhm… rebellion. Yes, the Goblin rebellion – wait, what was that?”

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as a House Elf seemed to whisper the latest news to his master, who gasped out as if he was scandalized, “A casualty you say???”

Sirona felt her heart drop at the sudden news, she could only watch as Sebastian Sallow all but rushed out of the doors, fearing for the worst.

Fear melted like snow from a season past, and while Spring came a bit too late for those who grieved, the flowers still bloomed.

The Three Broomsticks was once again abuzz with an energy of celebration and nostalgia – students crowded with relief at having survived their O.W.L.s and others were busy planning their summer ahead – two of which Sirona couldn’t help but approach, “Butterbeers on me, to the Hero of Hogwarts.” She’d winked before leaving the pair in their usual spot by the counter, not really meaning to overhear…

“So… I heard Fig left you a place in his will, back to London it is for you then?”

“Yes… and Feldcroft?”

“Can’t say I relish the thought of spending summer by myself, but I have a way to keep busy by doing some odd errands here and there, I suppose.”

“What would you say to a ticket to London?”

“What..?”

“I was only really planning to spend a few weeks there, fix some things that need to be done and well… spend some time in Feldcroft with you… if you’ll have me?”

“Of course! I – but why even take me to London – not that I’m complaining but –“

“Because I care, Sebastian. I – care about you… very much.”

Sirona couldn’t keep herself from spying a glance then, very happy to see the pair both sporting flustered faces. It may have taken a while, but there wasn’t a perfect time than any to start anew.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #sirona ryan #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #hl mc #hl oc #hogwarts legacy characters #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic

[sweetrevxnge]

Like Phantoms, Forever

Chapter Twenty | Across the Stars

Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader

Summary: Your destiny had never been clear to you, only becoming so when it led you to leaving behind the life you knew to train with the galaxy's sole Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. His Jedi Academy became your new home, bringing with it the promise of someday becoming a Jedi Knight. While navigating the ways of the Force, an inexplicable connection forms between you and a fellow student—the heir to the legendary Skywalker bloodline, Ben Solo. Together, the two of you must face your destinies and forge the path to your true selves.

What to expect: fluff, violence, sexual content, general angst, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

Additional info: this story is set in 28 ABY, six years prior to the events of TFA

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

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Word count: 6.4k

Chapter-specific CW: NSFW, descriptions of drowning

A/N: yes, I took 6 months to update this. no, I don't have any good excuses. but if you're still here reading along, know that I appreciate you so, so much and am trying my best to write more often :') ALSO... since starting this story, Lucasfilm has officially stated that Luke's academy is located on Ossus, so I'm going to edit the story to match that!

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“Geegee, set course for Ilum.”

Ben’s voice echoed through the steel ship as you watched the Academy fade into the distance, lost in the green expanse of Ossus. You stood at the back of the ship’s hull, choosing to watch your departure from a narrow viewport rather than the cockpit.

“Right away, Master Solo,” said the droid, joints squeaking as it tottered to the cockpit.

As the roar of the ship’s engines lowered to a hum, unease crept in. While the thought of venturing into the galaxy to find a kyber crystal once filled you with excitement, it now made your stomach churn. It’s going to be okay, you told yourself, trying to make it true.

Leaving the safety of the New Republic’s surveillance was hard enough on its own, let alone voyaging to a foreign ice planet in the Unknown Regions. It wasn’t all bad, though. Knowing that Geegee automatically transmitted a signal back to the Academy provided you some comfort.

Behind you, you could hear the clicks and whirs of the control panel as Ben prepared the hyperdrive. You turned around, finding him hunched over the panel, muttering something about the motivator. Despite his frustration, he carried an air of confidence as he worked. Shoulders relaxed, hair pushed back from his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the first time you had flown with him in the Grimtaash.

The memory flashed in your mind when your eyes landed on the co-pilot’s seat—the same seat that cradled your bruised, bleeding body the night you escaped Zeffo. Just the thought of it was enough to make you doubt this entire journey.

Ben sat down in his chair, letting out an accomplished sigh as he rested his hands on his knees. With the coordinates entered and the drone of the engines steadily growing louder, you knew what was coming next.

“Everything alright over there?”

Ben’s voice snapped you from your trance. You let out a sharp breath, unaware that you had been holding it for the duration of your reverie.

“Princess?” he said louder this time, craning his neck to meet your gaze.

Whether it was your unconvincing nod or your failure to meet his gaze after his question that gave your apprehension away, you weren’t sure. Regardless, in a matter of seconds, he had jumped out of his chair and come to stand in front of you, hands clasped over yours in a firm—yet comforting—grip.

“Talk to me, princess.”

It came in pieces. The pounding in your temples, followed by the pungent taste of blood coating your tongue. But the memories weren’t strictly physical. Defeat and desperation replaced your climbing anxiety, polluting your senses with the stench of utter fear. All from just looking at a piece of furniture.

Just before you could unravel, Ben’s grip on you tightened, pulling you from your thoughts. It wasn’t until your name spilled over his lips, drenched with concern, that you pulled your gaze away from the co-pilot’s seat. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t–”

“Stop it.”

You stiffened. “Stop what?”

“Saying sorry all the time,” he said with a tsk. “I’m going to start charging you five credits every time you do it.”

“Well, the joke’s on you then. I don’t have any credits,” you said dryly.

Ben cocked an eyebrow at you and, without him saying a single word, you gave in. Exhaling a long breath, your nerves settled.

“It’s just hard being in here again, even under the best circumstances.” Without realizing it, you found yourself squeezing his hands in return, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Not to mention what would happen if I were unable to find a kyber crystal. Master Skywalker would send me into exile and I would be forced to live a life veiled in shame and failure–”

“Okay, I get it,” he said, fighting back a laugh. “But that’s not going to happen. It’s going to be okay, I promise,” he said, releasing your hands as he sat down again. “Now, we need to make the jump to hyperspace, which is unfortunately something you need to be sitting for. It’ll just be a moment, okay?”

You nodded in understanding, moving to sit in the co-pilot’s chair. But before you could lower yourself into the seat, Ben’s hands locked onto your waist, spinning you around and pulling you to sit on his lap.

A gasp escaped your mouth, earning a deep, amused laugh from the pilot. You whipped your head around, shooting him a disapproving look.

“What? I didn’t specify where you had to sit,” he said, squeezing your hips lightly. His gentle touch eased your nerves, calming you in a matter of seconds.

“You’re an infuriating man, you know that?” you said with mock ridicule.

“So I’m told.” Dimples framed his smile, melting away any remaining concern. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost believe that his charm was more effective than any sedative a medical droid could offer. Almost.

Ben leaned forward, toggling a few more switches on the control panel. The feeling of his lips grazing the shell of your ear pulled you from your thoughts.

“Will you do me the honor?” he asked, weaving his fingers with yours as he guided your hand to the slender chrome lever in the center of the dashboard. The hyperdrive.

“Are you sure I’m qualified?” you asked.

With a peck on the cheek, he replied, “Absolutely.”

Your heart slammed into your ribs, causing your hands to tremble as you grabbed the rod. It was natural to be nervous about flying—especially when you were in the pilot’s seat. But the big arms wrapped around your torso assured you that you were safe.

As you pulled back on the lever, the engines roared in crescendo, launching the ship into hyperspace. The momentum pinned you against Ben, forcing you to grab onto the armrests for support. In the blink of an eye, the stars surrounding you transformed into blinding streaks of light before morphing into the swirling blue blur of deep space. To say it was exhilarating would be an understatement.

“Look at you,” Ben cooed, planting another kiss on your shoulder. “Before you know it, you’ll be piloting this thing all by yourself.”

You scoffed. “I seriously doubt that. I can barely operate a landspeeder without endangering myself and others.”

“Well, there’s only one way to get better, and I assure you, I’m a much better teacher than my uncle is.” Ben lowered his seat to a more comfortable position, pulling you back with him until you were resting against his chest.

“Is that so?” You couldn’t control your wandering hands as they crawled up the pleats of his robes, peeling back the fabric along his chest and neck.

He clasped your hands in his, holding them in place. “I mean it. After everything that happened, I want you to be comfortable piloting if you need to.”

There it was again, that horrible cloud that hung over your head at the mere mention of Zeffo. As if sensing this, Ben sighed and brought your fingers to his lips.

His warm breath spreading over your skin and his big, brown eyes peering up at you softened your resolve, leaving you no choice but to agree. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“I think you’ll find that I can be quite persuasive,” he said as he kissed the tender pads of your fingers, slowly working his way from pinky to thumb. He lingered on the last digit, dragging it over his plush lips. “Want me to show you?”

You nodded, mind turning hazy as you watched his lips, keenly aware of his other hand creeping under your tunic.

“Ben, we really shouldn’t,” you said halfheartedly, trying and failing to pull your hands free.

“Why not?”

“Because…” You drew the word out, motioning with your eyes to the empty hull of the ship. “This ship isn’t exactly private.”

He followed your gaze. “I see. Here, allow me to fix that.”

Without taking his attention off you, Ben flicked a switch on the control panel, causing the sliding door of the cockpit to close, hissing as it sealed you in.

“Better?” he asked, slipping his other hand under your robes, leaving a trail of gooseflesh behind as he inched towards your bra.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you rolled your hips forward, pressing down on his growing desire. “Much.”

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Now, we need to address a different issue. You’re wearing too many clothes.” His wandering hands stopped at the clasp of your bra, undoing it in one swift motion. “Let’s fix that.”

Raising your arms over your head, you let him peel away the heavy cloth, kicking off your boots as he did the same with his robes. Arousal burned through you as you undressed in the small space, cursing the confines of the cockpit. Still in his uniform pants, Ben pulled you onto his lap again, eyes raking over your newly exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it.

All that remained now was your underwear, the only barrier between you and the rough cloth of his pants as you straddled his hips. “Why do I always end up more naked than you?”

“Shh…” A smirk ghosted his lips as strong hands moved to grab fistfuls of your ass, squeezing with a bruising force. “We wouldn’t want anyone overhearing us, would we?”

The heat simmering low in your belly quickly transformed into a wild flame, demanding attention. Lacing your fingers through his hair, you kissed down the curve of his neck, running along the taut muscles until you reached his collarbone.

“I can’t make any promises,” you said, teeth grazing his skin.

A low moan rumbled in his chest, vibrating on your lips. “Fuck,” he said under his breath, snaking a hand up your spine and doing the same to your hair. Tugging your head back, he leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “Then I’ll have to find another way to keep you quiet.”

With that, his grip loosened, fingers moving to trace over your jaw until his thumb slid over your bottom lip. “Open,” he ordered, trailing kisses down your chest, coming dangerously close to your breasts.

You obeyed, squirming in his lap from the anticipation, seeking any relief for the ache growing between your legs. As you parted your lips, he pushed his thumb into your mouth.

“Good. Now, suck.”

Head spinning with arousal, you swirled your tongue over his digit, earning a groan of approval from him. You stifled a gasp as he took a nipple into his mouth, alternating between sucking and rolling his tongue over it. Beneath you, you could feel his cock stiffening, causing your arousal to burn hotter.

Wanting to encourage this, you sucked harder, allowing your moans to rumble around his thumb. When his cock twitched against you, you beamed with pride.

A moment later, he released your nipple with a pop, free hand fumbling with the waistband of his pants. “I need to fuck you,” he said, practically begging as he worked his pants down.

Every nerve in your body was alight, needy for attention. He pulled his thumb away, watching in awe as a string of saliva fell from your lips before running it over the head of his cock. Pupils blown with lust, he wasted no time, dragging your underwear to the side and spreading your desire around your entrance.

With a grunt, he paused, searching your eyes. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, aligning yourself with him. “Please.”

You both let out a sigh as he pushed into you, lips clashing together. Before long, you relaxed around him, sinking your hips lower, relishing how he stretched you. He moved slowly at first, giving you control as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the headrest. Dark locks of hair fanned over his face, clinging to the beads of sweat forming on his skin.

True to his word, he kept quiet, concealing his groans of pleasure as heavy breaths. The same couldn’t be said for you, who was letting out wanton moans with every thrust. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, though. The desire coursing through you had addled your mind, leaving you unable to control yourself.

A particularly loud gasp caught Ben’s attention, causing him to slow his movements. “Careful, princess.”

Nails digging into the armrests, you held back another moan. “Sorry—I just can’t—help it.”

“I know you can’t.” The corners of his lips twitched and before you knew it, his thumb was seeking entrance to your mouth again. “Now, be a good girl for me and stay quiet.”

Running your tongue over his thumb, you welcomed him in again, heat rushing to your core as you sucked. Ben’s breaths grew erratic as he continued to fuck into you, eyes trained on your lips. He effectively silenced you, but the few moans that managed to escape were now muffled by his thumb instead.

“That’s my girl,” he said, sliding his finger free and dropping it to your aching clit. “I think you deserve a reward.”

“Don’t tease, Ben,” you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly applied pressure.

“Didn’t plan on it,” he said, drawing tight circles around your bud. 

The sensation was enough to drive you insane, hips rolling involuntarily against his hand, demanding more. Insatiable as ever, you pleaded for him to go faster, earning his cooperation.

“Fuck—baby—you look so good riding me.” His words were broken by quick breaths, evidence of his mounting pleasure. Your thighs burned from straddling his, trembling as your own pleasure threatened to wash over you. Every second you spent teetering on the edge felt torturous, stretching for eternity.

Desperate for release, you rolled your hips harder, forcing more pressure from Ben’s hand. A string of expletives fell from your lips as your resolve shattered, allowing the ecstasy bubbling beneath the surface to flood in. You bit down on the back of your hand, lost in the waves of euphoria that rippled through your body, your cunt pulsing around his cock.

With one last thrust, Ben gripped you tight, pulling you against his chest and burying his face into your neck. He littered your skin with sloppy kisses as he regained his composure, slowly leaning back into the seat.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his as your fingers traced over his rattling chest.

He let out a long sigh through his nose before agreeing. “Me too.”

Time passed like the stars swirling around you, and before long, the Grimtaash snapped out of hyperspace, revealing the ice planet of Ilum before you.

With a striking, silvery atmosphere, and patches of white storms riddling its surface, Ilum was truly a sight to behold. Unlike Dantooine and Ossus, there was no distinction between the terrains, only a vast, pale landscape.

“You weren’t lying about the snow,” you said, standing from your seat to get a better look.

“That’s what the coats are for,” Ben replied with a wink before calling back to the hull of the ship. “Geegee, prepare the landing sequence.”

The two of you had traded your robes for thermals and jackets in anticipation of landing, but despite the layers, a chill traveled down your spine. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought it was from the planet’s atmosphere radiating through the ship, but you knew what caused it. The prospect of adventure, traversing the unknown with the person you love by your side.

The realization felt like a blow to your chest, upsetting your balance as you reclaimed your seat. A string of beeps behind you pulled you from your thoughts. Master Skywalker’s astromech had come out of rest mode, now serving as a well-timed distraction.

Ben laughed under his breath. “No, Artoo. Your wheels will freeze to the ground if you go with us.”

The droid fired back, warbling as he rocked side to side on his wheels in defiance.

“You know I’m right! We can’t just sit around all day waiting for you to defrost.”

Another rebuttal from the droid, one that made Ben’s mouth fall open. “Just… stay on the ship, okay?”

R2-D2 concluded his argument with another string of beeps before spinning his head and body around and leaving the cockpit.

The low hum of machinery permeated the silence as you sat back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest. You would’ve given anything to know what R2-D2 had said to get under Ben’s skin the way he did.

Ahead, the Grimtaash entered the planet’s atmosphere, causing the ship to lurch as it sliced through the storm clouds. The floor beneath you no longer felt solid as the turbulence rattled the ship like a leaf in the wind, dread stirring in your stomach.

“Hold on tight—it’s going to be a rough landing,” Ben said, hunched over the control panel as he completed the landing sequence.

“Yeah, I gathered that!”

With knuckles blanched around the armrests, you squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the chaos to settle. When the ship finally touched the ground, you relaxed, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Running a hand through his glossy black hair, Ben smiled at you. “Welcome to Ilum.”

All the furs and thermals in the galaxy couldn’t have prepared you for the cold of Ilum. It was visceral, threatening to turn every drop of blood in your body into crimson ice. White flurries engulfed you, blinding you to your surroundings. If it weren’t for his hand clutching yours, you’d hardly be able to make out where Ben stood.

“Lovely weather this time of year, isn’t it?” he joked, voice raised over the howling wind.

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped when the chill spread through your teeth, prompting you to pull one of your many layers over your nose for coverage. “I didn’t think it was possible to be this cold.”

Shielding the snow from his eyes, he leaned in closer. “Once we get inside the caves, it won’t be so bad.”

From the depths of his coat pockets, he retrieved a small cylindrical device, struggling to activate it from the confines of his leather gloves. Finally, a blue digital map appeared in the center, displaying a system of caves and tunnels northeast of where you’d landed.

“There,” he said, his breaths strained from the weather. “The closest entrance is less than a kilometer away. Follow me.”

Wordlessly, you did as you were told, careful to step in Ben’s footprints to avoid sinking through the snow. The two of you were uncharacteristically quiet as you trekked through the tundra. You daydreamed about beams of sunlight, steaming cups of caf, and hot showers—just to name a few. More than just a coping mechanism for the intense cold, it also served as a distraction from the task awaiting you.

A natural opening in the crag served as your respite from the elements, inviting you to explore the labyrinth within. Despite being encased in frost and ice, the alcove felt warm, if only from the vapor of your breaths.

“So, where do we go from here?” you asked, voice hoarse from the wind.

“That’s kind of the problem,” Ben said, peeling off his wind-beaten jacket. “The Empire gutted this place, making it unstable in some areas. For now, we’ll follow the charted tunnels.”

“Why am I not surprised to hear that?” you grumbled, doing the same with your coat. It came as no surprise to learn that the Empire plundered the Jedi’s sacred planet, destroying the ancient temple housed in its caves as they did. Twisting the knife in the Jedi Order’s back.

“It’s what they did best. But that’s why we’re here,” he said, a smile tugging at his rosy lips. “To rebuild.”

To defend, you thought. Your heart sank at the idea of your efforts being in vain. What good would a fledgling Jedi Order be against a rising empire? If the old Order crumbled at the height of its power, Master Skywalker’s Order didn’t stand a chance.

You cleared your throat, pushing your thoughts aside and refocusing on the task at hand. “Right. Well, then. Where should we start?” you asked, glancing at the glowing holomap in his palm.

“That’s not my decision to make.” His eyes twinkled from the blue light of the map as he placed it in your hand.

As much as you wanted to reject it, you didn’t. He was right, after all. This was your journey; he was just here as support.

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “But I don’t want to hear any complaints if we get lost.”

He smiled down at you. “Sure thing, princess.”

You nodded, holding his gaze for a moment longer. It was impossible to ignore his frostbitten beauty. Tendrils of hair clung to his forehead, the result of melted frost and sweat. The cold highlighted his sharp features more than ever, coloring his cheeks and nose in a peachy hue. Under different circumstances, you’d be happy to help him warm up.

Heat rushed to your face as you refocused on the holomap. Now was not the time—and most certainly not the place.

You examined the details of the holomap, trying to make sense of the labyrinth of grainy blue pathways. The crack you’d slipped through was just one of many that led to the caverns within, like veins tracing back to a heart. From what you could tell, the path you were on eventually let out into a central chamber, which then branched out into a handful of different tunnels. It was as good a starting point as any, and with a deep breath, you set out.

Ben followed behind you as you navigated the tunnel, with only the occasional drop of water breaking the comfortable silence. Stalactites adorned the ceiling, each bearing a unique state of damage. Every inch of the slate walls shimmered with ice crystals, reflecting in all directions as the blue glow of the holomap passed by. Slivers of clouded sunlight squeezed through cracks in the cavern’s walls, illuminating your footpath.

“What was your first time here like?” you asked over your shoulder, studying the mining scars etched into the walls for any sign of kyber.

“Loud,” he said, sighing. “I mean, just imagine a dozen teenagers running around a place like this. It’s a miracle we didn’t drive Master Skywalker insane.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the image he painted. He, Tai, Hennix, and to your surprise, Voe came to mind, a decade younger than they were now, squealing as their feet slid across the patches of ice. And Master Skywalker, futilely trying to reign them in.

“Maybe that’s why he wasn’t keen on coming back,” you said with a scoff.

He chuckled. “Maybe.”

A beat passed before you asked, “How long did it take you to find your crystal?”

Another sigh. “I’ll tell you once you find yours.”

Where you had hoped his answer would provide you with some comfort, you were only left with doubt. What if you couldn’t find one today? Or tomorrow? Or at all?

“Of course you will,” you muttered, watching your position on the holomap as it gently pulsed, showing that you were approaching the end of the tunnel.

The cave ahead was larger than you’d expected. With a ceiling that blended with the hanging darkness, you would’ve thought you’d stumbled upon a rune crafted by ancient men. But the crags and formations embedded in the walls proved otherwise. Water trickled freely down the jagged mineral, echoing throughout the room and filling the space with a fresh fragrance—rather than that of stale air.

Veins of opaque, white crystal ran through the stone walls, and for a moment, you wondered if this was it. There was only one way to find out.

Carefully, you approached a thread, setting the holomap down on a patch of ice. With trembling hands, you peeled a glove off and brushed the surface. The cavern immediately siphoned the warmth from your fingers, turning them numb before you could determine if the ore was made of kyber.

Finally, you conceded. “I don’t feel anything,” you grumbled, working your hand back into the glove.

Ben came to stand behind you, chest pressed flush against your back as his hands slid down your hips. “That’s okay. It’s just quartzite ore.” His breath fanned over your ear. “You’re not the first person to mistake it for kyber, and you won’t be the last, either.”

You spun around, still locked in his embrace. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He smiled. “We’ve been looking for all of twenty minutes. Don’t give up yet, princess.”

Despite everything—the weight of the unknown, the frost forming within your lungs, the lingering doubts you held about leaving the protection of the Academy—you found yourself savoring this moment. Deep in the heart of Ilum’s caves, wrapped in Ben Solo’s arms, you were content.

The vision of Coruscant appeared in your mind. Of you and him on the balcony overlooking the crowded hyperlanes of the planet home to so much life that it had become life itself. A place where anyone could blend in. Or disappear.

You blinked, wiping away the dream. “What if I never find one?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “I’d say that’s pretty unlikely. The Empire took what they could, but that doesn’t mean that they were thorough.”

“No. I mean…” You dropped your gaze, holding his hands on your waist. “What if we left now? Before I find a crystal, and before you undergo the Jedi Trials.”

At that, his face fell. “This is your fear talking. You’re not thinking rationally.”

“No, just… listen to me.” You guided yours and his hands over your heart, acutely aware of its relentless pace. “Is this our destiny? To steal moments under the cover of darkness? Away from the eyes of the galaxy?”

Ben was silent for a long moment, his honey eyes searching yours, full of conflict. “What if it is?”

Your breaths mingled, dancing to the tune of your heartbeats. His words told a different story than his heart—the heart you shared.

“I know you don’t believe that,” you said, running a thumb over his rosy cheeks. “So, what’s stopping you?”

He untangled himself from your grasp, raking his fingers through his hair as he paced the room. “I can’t just leave. The galaxy is on the brink of another war—the same war my family dedicated their lives to ending. I’ve spent the last thirteen years working to become a Jedi Knight, to protect the people of the galaxy from conflicts like this.” He pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose, shaking his head lightly. “I’ve come too close to throw it all away now.”

He was right. The galaxy was in jeopardy, its future dependent on the New Republic’s ability to snuff out a fire before it became an inferno. War was likely, and when it came, you both needed to be there to serve the light. To serve justice.

You realized then just how polarized the two of you were. Ben, the son of a Skywalker, burdened with the weight of a legacy imposed upon him from birth. Hailing from a family that ensured he would follow the Jedi path, just as his uncle and grandfather had.

And you, the daughter of a traitor. With no one left to turn to. Whose family legacy was that of deceit and treason.

It was unfair to ask this of him; you knew that. But in the same breath, you couldn’t imagine continuing to live like this.

Before you could apologize, Ben’s hands seized your face, his lips crashing against yours. His kiss felt like a flame breathing oxygen, burning hot and powerful, rendering you senseless.

“But I can’t lose you, either,” he said, resting his forehead on yours. “You are the stars in my sky. Without you, I’d be lost in the dark.”

Your heart skipped at his confession, and yet, words eluded you. The three you’d long wanted to give voice to felt too constrictive. What you shared with him went beyond anything under the definition of love alone. It was so much more than that—a connection that tied you to one another. The Force itself granted you this insight when it bridged your minds, creating the bond you shared. To call it love would be a disservice.

“Then come with me,” you whispered, pulling away to look at him. “It doesn’t have to be today. Just someday. Tomorrow holds endless possibilities for us.”

He pursed his lips as he let out a long breath, leaving you in agonizing suspense as he prepared his answer. “Okay.”

Elated, you reached to cup his face, eager to return the kiss he’d given you moments ago. Except his hands stopped you before you could.

“But only after you’ve finished your training,” he added, hands gliding down your arms. “And when the galaxy doesn’t need our help.”

It was a fair compromise to make—no different from you asking him to leave his life behind. Most of all, it was a compromise you could live with. 

“Promise?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I promise.” He breathed the words rather than whispered them, stoking the fire in your chest. Before you could, he closed the distance and kissed you again, more gently this time—perhaps than ever before. It was the manifestation of his word, and yours in return.

When he eventually pulled away, the ghost of his touch lingered, burning through your very soul. A vortex threatened to consume you, chipping away at your rationality, seeking to swallow you whole. But now was not the time. In this moment, you knew what you needed to do, and even if it required the strength of all the stars in the galaxy, you would do it.

You cleared your throat as you reached for the holomap, forcing yourself to be interested in anything other than tearing Ben’s clothes off. “It looks like this path here branches out into three smaller ones.” Using the dial on the base of the map, you magnified the projected image, looking to Ben for reassurance. “We’ll follow it through.”

He nodded. “Lead the way, captain.”

The two of you continued down the cavern’s narrow and winding passages for hours, only stopping when an unexpected gleam of light caught your eye. Out of the twelve times you’d hoped to find kyber, eight were quartzite, with the other four being shards of scrap metal left behind from the Empire’s demolitions. Each disappointment chipped away at your morale, feeding into your belief that you were unworthy of being a Jedi.

Ben must have recognized this as he suggested stopping for a break, digging through his pack for an energy ration. You came to stand beside him, dragging your feet across the ground as if they had turned into blocks of ice.

“Here,” he said, offering you the ration he’d fished out. “You need to eat. This will tie you over until we can get back to the ship.”

“At this rate, that could be days from now.” Your fingers had lost all dexterity as you tried to unwrap the ration, mouth beginning to water at the thought of food. “I just want to go home.”

As you took the first bite, your vision turned white, but only for a fraction of a second. It startled you, causing you to drop the chocolate-coated ration onto the icy floor.

“Hey! Careful with the Endorian cocoa. That stuff’s hard to come by nowadays,” Ben said as a deafening shriek pierced the silence of the caverns. 

You twisted your neck, trying to identify where it originated, heart hammering against your ribs as you lifted a trembling finger to your lips.

Ben grabbed the crook of your arm, turning you to face him. “What are you doing?” His tone was stern, seemingly unfazed by the cry that still echoed through the caves.

You wrested your arm free, lowering your voice to below than a whisper. “Are you deaf? That noise—the scream. We’re not alone.”

“I didn’t hear anything.” His dark eyes were wide, suspicious. “And we are alone. If we weren’t, the holomap would pick up their heat signatures, too.”

You lowered your eyes to the map, finding only yours and Ben’s forms in shades of red and yellow. But before you could consider any logical explanations for the sound, another cry rang through the tunnel, this time coming from the unexplored end of the path. Shrouded in darkness, the path beckoned you, drawing you closer like a magnet. The voice was deep and distorted, yet familiar. You closed off your other senses, focusing only on the voice as it came to clarity. Someone—or something—was calling for you.

“Come to me…” it said, nearly clear enough to be mistaken for another person in the room. “My love.”

Your breath hitched and tears welled in your eyes, rolling down your cold cheeks and onto the exposed fur of your jacket. It was a voice you wouldn’t soon forget.

“M-mom?” you asked, like a child searching for comfort in the night.

Ben stiffened at the word. “Princess, there’s no one else here.” From the volume of his voice, you could tell he was wary. He must have thought you were in a hallucinatory state, and truthfully, you couldn’t blame him.

“I know, but I can hear her calling for me,” you said, voice cracking as you stepped towards her voice. “I have to follow it.”

“No, you don’t.” He reached for you again, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Maybe you caught something in the infirmary or–”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, pulling away. “I just… feel like this is something I need to do.”

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Ben insisted, trailing behind you. “I promised Master Skywalker that I would keep you safe, and I can’t do that if we’re separated.”

You ignored him, turning on your heels and reaching into the Force to guide you in the right direction.

Beyond the shadows was another frost-lined chamber, and as you entered, the world around you fell silent. No voices, no footsteps, no ambient drops of water. Only the sound of your breath.

Your boots squeaked on the icy ground as you shifted your weight, glancing back to find Ben. To your surprise—and horror—you found yourself entirely alone. Not only that, but the chamber itself had become something unrecognizable, with no exits and cramped walls.

Panic swelled in your chest and as it did, the ice beneath you gave way, plunging you into dark, freezing water.

You were numb in an instant. Struggling against the weight of your clothes and the fear consuming you, you tried to swim, limbs heavy as bricks as you willed them to move. Unable to process what had happened, your thoughts were overtaken by instinct.

Slowly, you pushed forward, following the only source of light spilling through the black water. With no end in sight, you wondered if you would even make it, lungs growing tight, burning more with each passing second.

The light was pure, preternaturally so, blinding you as you swam into its glow. You resisted the urge to draw a breath, knowing that doing so would only seal your fate. You couldn’t die like this, not now. Not after the promises you’d made in these caves.

As the light engulfed you, you thought of Ben. Where was he? Could he sense that you were on the verge of sinking into oblivion? Would he mourn you when he realized?

With that last question, you used what was left of your energy to call to the Force, pleading for its aid. It wasn’t long before its familiar warmth came to you, an invisible hand grabbing yours and guiding you to the surface. 

As you approached the rippling plane of water, you could hear your name being called, dampened by the roar of blood rushing in your ears. It came again, louder this time, synchronous with your hand breaking through the water.

Cool air kissed your skin, welcoming you back to life. You thrashed at the surface, coughing up the water you’d taken in when you fell, nearly heaving from the force of it. As you opened your burning eyes, you found that the hand holding yours wasn’t invisible at all, but tangible, as real as your own.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” your mother said, lips unmoving as her words permeated the air. “You’re safe now.”

She looked ethereal, a backdrop of white light painting her like a vision of an angel. For a moment, you were sure that you’d arrived in the afterlife, reunited with your mother at long last. It wasn’t until her hand slipped away and yours hit the hard stone floor you realized you weren’t.

The brilliant light vanished along with her presence, leaving you blanketed in darkness. Desperate to escape the freezing water, you clawed at the jagged stone of the opening, mustering the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows. Your nails dug into your palms as you pushed yourself out of the water, crawling only a few inches before falling onto your back, muscles screaming. The layers of wet clothing clung to your skin, sending a violent chill through your bones, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was your breathing, the sweet sting of air filling your lungs.

The Force lingered around you as you lay there, fists slowly unfurling as the adrenaline waned. As your fingers relaxed, something rolled out of your palm, hitting the wet stone with a soft clink.

Your eyes shot open at the sound. Scrambling to sit up, you searched for the object in the dim light, but it didn’t take you long.

Beside you was a glowing crystal, pulsing with a heartbeat of its own and humming a soft melody attuned to your ears. You blinked in disbelief as you reached for it, tears blurring your vision.

A blue heart of kyber, calling to you.

#jedi: fall order fanfiction if you squint #I love these two idiots so much I can't to break their hearts #ben solo #ben solo x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x you #ben solo x fem!reader #ben solo x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars self insert #kylo ren smut #ben solo smut #my writing

[mickimomo]

Lunch Time - Okoye x Attuma

Author Notes:

I finally got a moment to write something cute for these two. I'll try to crank out Namor and Shuri later.

It all started when Aneka and Attuma were paired up as patrol buddies for a week.

It wasn't rare that they were paired off, from time to time. Neither of them minded it. Attuma appreciated the bubbly warrior. She had become something akin to a younger sister to him with time. And she had always referred to him as her brother-in-law when he and Okoye had announced their engagement.

Today's patrol, however, was interrupted by a frantic Aneka dragging him to the market to grab a few foods.

They settled at a table as she hurried to put something together in a small metal container.

"Aneka, what are you doing?" Attuma tilted his head as he watched her shape a mound of steaming mieliepap into a heart with a spoon.

"I forgot to pack Ayo lunch this morning." She murmured as her brows creased with great concentration. "I have to put something together." She hummed as she poured some hot meat stew out of a styrofoam container into the largest compartment in the metal container.

"Can't she get something?"

"She could, but I don't want her to. This is how I show my love. Although, I wish I could have made something homemade."

"Mm."

Attuma watched her place some roasted vegetables into the last compartment before she began to lay pieces of sweet plantain down to make a small heart.

She blew a kiss at the meal and smiled before placing the lid on it and packing everything else up.

"I think eating something packed with love makes it taste better." She grinned. "Just imagine if Okoye packed you something special." She offered as she got up. "I'll be back in a second." She waved before jogging off to find her wife.

Those words: Just imagine if Okoye packed you something special

Had Attuma in a chokehold for the rest of his time on patrol.

Aneka couldn't help but giggle as she watched him run off in the end.

She'd be expecting a head smack from her sister in the next few days.

"K'iin." Attuma called out as he entered her garden. She was tending to a few squash plants while M20 grazed peacefully, not too far behind her.

"Mm?"

"I patrolled with Aneka today."

"Oh? How did that go?"

He sat down beside her. "Well."

"That's it?"

"It was uneventful."

"And nothing exciting happened?" She laughed softly at his short and simple responses. She could tell something was churning in his mind.

"Aneka made Ayo something for lunch." He looked at her.

"That's nice."

"Yes. It is very nice for one to give their lover a meal made with love."

"Uh huh."

Attuma stared at her long and hard before looking down at the ground.

He pouted for three whole days before Okoye gave in and made something happen for him.

She was a phenomenal cook, thanks to her father. And although she had been married once upon a time, W'Kabi wasn't one who cared for homemade meals and surprises. She had tried it once, but he didn't even touch it. It was a waste of time and effort, and she had hardened her heart enough to never do it again.

Attuma on the other hand, was acting like the sun would fall out of the sky because he couldn't have a lunch prepared by her hands.

She would give him one now, but if he acted poorly, he would be eating vibranium and knuckle sandwiches instead.

But deep down inside, she knew he would be happy with anything she gave him.

Attuma would eat sand and drink saltwater if she served it to him.

So, she had to go above and beyond for him.

She quickly got to work when he left to start his patrol early in the morning.

Attuma was on patrol with Namora today but was settling down for lunch with her and Aj K'uk'ulkan when she found him.

He was pouting over something Namora had tossed together out of pity.

The feathered warrior enjoyed watching him sulk, but this was getting ridiculous.

Even K'uk'ulkan was worried by his sudden lack of appetite and sunken shoulders.

"In ba'ate'el." Okoye called out as she approached with a box wrapped perfectly in a sky blue patterened cloth.

He looked up at the sound of her voice, too forlorn to stand as she drew closer.

"K'iin." He huffed.

She sat down across from him before placing the wrapped box before him. "Ku méejtech uutsil." She gestured to it.

Have a nice meal?

He blinked at the box before he slowly began to undo the cloth and found a two-layered metal lunch box.

The first layer had freshly cut fruits and a small salad.

The second layer had some stewed goat served with samp and beans.

She watched him stare it all before she cursed softly under her breath, instantly catching his attention.

"I forgot to grab your drink."

"You did not."

"Huh?"

"What you have between your legs is plenty."

Namora choked on her food and K'uk'ulkan tried to stop himself from cackling as Okoye began to curse Attuma out in xhosa.

"Dios bo’otik, K'iin." He beamed when she was finally done chewing him out.

"Don't thank me. How many times do I have to tell you to stop being vulgar."

"It is not vulgar. It is honesty."

"That is not honesty."

"It is. I will please you when I am finished to show my gratitude."

"You aren't pleasing shit." She scowled. "Please me by eating the food and leaving me be."

"But I will be thirsty."

"ATTUMA!"

"Please." Namora gasped for air while her cousin pressed her rebreather on her face. "We are eating."

K'uk'ulkan laughed as he helped her. "He is in love. Do not discourage him."

Namora wheezed. "I almost died."

"You will understand when someone you love brings you food." Attuma patted her shoulder.

Namora scoffed. "There isn't a single soul bold enough to bring me food."

"Maybe if you ask the priestess, she might bring you something."

Namora's face purpled. "She would never."

"You never know." Okoye shrugged. "Although, Oni doesn't cook much. She can only cook five things and fire."

"Is Shuri any better?" K'uk'ulkan tilted his head at the warrior.

"She can cook, but it is very rare. You'd be lucky to even get a snack from her."

"Well, there's hope." He hummed.

"Very little."

"Yes, but there is hope."

Attuma was in his own little world as he started to eat his meal.

And that his how it all started.

Bloopers:

Namora when Attuma said Okoye was his drink.

#mickimomo #okoye x attuma #okoye #attuma #attuma x okoye #okottuma #attoye fanfic

[degloved]

the use of ai in fics genuinely makes me so sad. i can see with my own two eyes that the summary does not at all read as though it had been written by the fic's author (and verbiage aside, the usage of "coworker" in the main text versus "co-worker" in the summary is already telling enough.) idk. yeah "why should anyone bother reading what you didn't bother writing" and all, but it's more than that. we were all beginners at some point. we all sucked at some point. none of us could churn out the sort of perfection we strived towards from the get go—and this is ok. writing, especially when done for free and out of love for a book/show/movie/play/etc, should be an activity that is actively enjoyed; you're not writing solely for the final product, you're writing to write. when i first sat down nearly a decade ago now and put pen to paper (literally—i used to write by hand), it wasn't because i knew what i was gonna produce. it wasn't because i had some great grand idea that just had to be put out into the world. it was because there was something in me that made my fingers restless with the want to write. and naturally it's not always a walk in the park, and it's an activity that can frequently turn from pleasant to frustrating, but those are some hurdles you're meant to overcome by yourself. writer's block, burnout, not being able to make the words go right—we've all been there. it's part of the artistic process. because this is, at the end of the day, an art form—be it prose, poetry, original work, fic. and it just makes me really fucking sad that there's such an emphasis now on the finished product—the fact that it's even a 'product' to begin with—instead of... the entire journey. the honing of this skill—because it is very much a skill to master and continue perfecting. reading my work from 2017 (sadly do not have anything earlier) and seeing just how much i have improved in the last seven years is one of the most rewarding aspects of being a writer. knowing that what i do now i could never have done back then, and i would certainly never have learned if i hadn't constantly, continuously kept at it for those seven years. every bit of writing i do makes me better, more polished, represents a proverbial step closer to the mastery of this art form & becoming the kind of writer i want to be. i went from writing and very frequently being frustrated in those days that my piece couldn't compare to the fandom greats or the real life writers i looked up to, to now writing something and finding myself going back to it again and again, rereading it again and again because it's just that good. it's just that fucking good. and i got here all on my own, by putting in the time and the work, by pushing through the dissatisfaction and demoralization and self-doubt. it's a slow process, but so worth it. and some of these people will never have that, because there's a desire to achieve but no motivation to do the achieving. it's just so much easier to fire up chatgpt and have hours' or even days' worth of work in a couple of minutes after feeding the machine some prompts. "why should anyone bother reading what you didn't bother writing" and all that, but mostly, i just feel sad for what these kids are missing out on. because immediate satisfaction trumps a slow process, no matter how rewarding. i suppose

#n #ao3