#the way she clung to her backpack when she was a kid

[stubz]

"Human Max?"

"Mmyesh?"

"Why'd you ruffle my feathers?"

"Oh, I used to do that to your sister when she came here. I won't do it anymore if you don't like it though."

"No. I liked it. It was kinda like when Mom and Dad clean my feathers. Tickly and scratchy."

"Well that's good."

"...Human Max?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you ruffle Salia's feathers?"

"Hmmmm, Iiiiiii don't know. I just did it without thinking."

"Why?"

"Maybe because my family did that to me when I was a kid and so I wanted to continue that with you kids."

"Why?"

"Why I wanted to continue it or why my family did that to me?"

"Both!"

"Emira why do you do this to me. Oookay! Lemme think for a sec" they said while thinking of an answer to hopefully prevent the why apocalypse.

"Uhhh-I think it's because humans just like physical touch from people we like, love and care about...Yeah! In fact, if we don't get enough we get touch-starved."

"This sounds like a trick."

"Would I ever trick you?"

"Yes, you said that humans will die from loudness to keep us from screaming too much."

"...you got me there but I promise you I am not lying."

"...you really get 'starved' if you don't get touched enough?"

"Erm, by 'touched' I mean hugged, high-fived, hand-holding, head pats, stuff like that. Not something that sounds like the start of a dirty joke..."

Few days later~~~

"Max! Get in here! Now!

"What?! Did someone get hurt?! Did Qiqi eat glue again???"

"Look."

Max finally came around the corner and saw the other human trapped in the most adorable way ever imaginable. Younglings hugged and clung to Kim like they were a lifesaver in a terrible storm. Legs were trapped and sat on, weighted to the ground by children. Waist and torso were covered by living backpacks/frontpacks. Arms shaking while trying to hold the younglings in their arms while steadying the ones clambering on their shoulders.

"Help. Me."

"Let me get my phone I need this as my new wallpaper."

"Max! I'm seriously about to crush like 10 kids with my fat arse if I don't stand properly in the next 10 seconds."

"Got it, can't have you manslaughter children. Hug time's over kids, off of Kim."

"But Maxie if we do then Kim will die!"

"Marl for the 5th time I'm not dying."

"But your starving!"

"Sweetheart please, I am most defiantly not starving."

"Emira said so tho!"

"Yeah! You were stuck in your room for days with no one to hug you! And Max told me that if humans don't get enough hugs or pats you'll starve!!" her beak quivered, eyes starting to get glassy.

"Oooh, Emira, kids, Kim is fine. Yes no one was there to give Kim hugs but she's fine. For a human to starve for hugs will take some time, and Kim wasn't gone for that long."

"Really?"

"Really, besides I was there to give her soup and high-fives so she wouldn't get lonely."

"...can we still hug you for a bit longer?"

"Of course, but let me sit down so I don't fall down."

The younglings clamber of her and allow the human to sit and then climb back ontop her. Noting how not everyone got to hug Kim, Max came in and together the humans were trapped by a mesh of children clinging tightly to their favorite humans.

"Max."

"Yeah Kim."

"As punishment for what happened your buying lunch...and carrying me to lunch cause my legs are in a coma right now."

"Fair enough."

#humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans in space #the adventures of kim and max running a space child care centre

[just-jordie-things]

[epilogue] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 25.4k warnings: swearing, drinking. reader has absent parents summary: just a handful of events that transpired after the conclusion of to build a home.

to build a home series masterlist

[epilogue] : "For You, For Me"

___

[ cause i built a home, for you, for me ]

Maybe it was just the beautiful stretch of summer into early fall, but the days had seemed lighter.  As though the sun’s rays lasted a little longer each day, as though the great bright star couldn’t bear to part with the day too soon.

Or maybe (y/n) was just so sickeningly happy all the time that she finally noticed the sunny days when they came around, and learned to properly appreciate them.  If the sun was shining, she was dragging the two kids out of the apartment and anywhere else- as long as they were outside.

Summer vacation was mostly spent at the park, or at the public market, when Megumi was in a good enough mood to go, anyways.  Tsumiki loved going to the market with (y/n), especially since she’d get to pick out all of her favorite fruits and veggies for the upcoming week.  Megumi mostly clung like a shadow behind (y/n), hating the busy space and strangers who were too friendly.  There was the rare occasion that he’d want to look at the stalls of old books, and (y/n) found that with the promise of looking for a new book, he would relax a little more in the high traffic area.  Was it bribery? Maybe.  But didn’t all parents have to bribe their kids at some point? 

Most nights were spent relaxing, a luxury that (y/n) wouldn’t give up for all the treasures of the world.  

Gathering in the living room to watch a movie with snacks covering the coffee table had become a weekly ritual.  They took turns picking out a movie, and the rule was always that if they could compromise when it’s a movie one of them isn’t interested in, then snacks were on her.  Of course a certain Six Eyes user tended to drop by not-so-at-random with a backpack full of sweets and long limbs that took up most of the couch.  Megumi would bring a pile of blankets to the floor when Satoru joined them for movie nights, claiming that he and (y/n) would hog all the cushions.  It was mostly Satoru, as (y/n) would try to cling to one side of the sofa, but her attempts were to no avail.  Satoru always found a way to crowd her until she was practically curled up under his arm.  Megumi would stick his tongue out in Tsumiki’s direction, disgusted by the abundance of physical affection that Satoru demanded to give to (y/n).  Tsumiki, however, always found it sweet.

Other nights they’d spend in comfortable silence, the three of them in their favorite cozy spots as they read to themselves.  (y/n) often sprawled across the living room sofa with whatever she was reading.  Tsumiki liked to read in a little nook she’d made in the corner of her room, complete with a string of twinkly lights and a big bean bag chair.  Megumi would join (y/n) in the living room, sitting in the oversized chair that matched the living room set.  He was so small in the large cushions he could lay any which way he pleased, but he most often sat crisscrossed with his new favorite book in his lap.  Sometimes (y/n) would convince him to read to her, even when he was halfway through a story she hadn’t been familiar with.  She enjoyed the peaceful quality time, even if it was spent in hours of silence.

And then there was her favorite way for the kids to spend their evenings- coloring.  It was a simple activity, one that she’d indulged in as a child often enough, but hadn’t thought much about until she’d randomly picked up a big pack of crayons on a grocery trip.  It must’ve been a good choice, because Megumi and Tsumiki got right to work on their imaginations.  Now their rooms, and the refrigerator, were covered in their artwork.  Tsumiki liked to draw flowers, sometimes full meadows complete with a sunny sky and rainbows, and sometimes she’d practice different petals with different colors, always trying to learn new things.  Megumi liked to draw his shikigami, giving each one that manifests it’s own name.  He also liked to draw characters from his favorite books.  (y/n) helped him to carefully tape them up on his bookshelf to display properly.  However she had hand-picked a few of their drawings to go on the fridge- which held the same honor as a knight being sworn into duty.  There were a few of Tsumiki’s flowers, and a few of Megumi’s favorite scenes from his books- even the darker ones that held a touch of blood and gore (y/n) would have to talk to him about before he went back to school- but there was one in particular that outshined them all.

It was a drawing they’d done together, on a larger piece of cardstock, of all of them.  There was a carefully drawn out scribble that resembled her, in her signature uniform- black collared jacket and matching black pants- her hair was meticulously thought out, the crayon color carefully chosen, and the strokes of length determined while the pair of kids studied her closely, making sure that their drawing resembled her true form perfectly.  On either side of her stick figure self was one of them, Megumi identified by the sea urchin he’d drawn on top of his head, and Tsumiki by the smile that took up her whole face and the big pink bow in her hair that she wore religiously since (y/n) had gotten it for her.  Lastly, and maybe (y/n’s) favorite part, was that Megumi had chosen to add his dogs to the family portrait.  Sitting right beside each other with little squiggles around their tails to show they were happily wagging, and complete with the red markings on their heads.

As soon as they’d presented this drawing to (y/n), she’d almost burst into tears at how sweet it was.  They laughed at her teary eyes while she smiled and gazed fondly at the picture, taking in every little detail and committing it to memory.  She deemed it the greatest gift she’d ever received, and marched it right to the fridge, clipping it up with magnets.  It took up most of the freezer door, but it would stay there until it was time for it to be moved to a new fridge.

When back to school season rolled around, (y/n) dragged them off to the mall, proudly displaying her earnings from the assignments she’d picked up over the summer.  Now that she wasn’t a student anymore, getting paid to exorcize demons had become a great source of income.  Of course in the midst of Megumi and Tsumiki ogling all the new backpacks with bright colors and anime characters, their favorite special grade sorcerer showed up with a black card that seemed to hold boundless funds, as he paid for every little thing either one of the children picked up.

“They’re going to grow up with a bad understanding of how money works, Satoru” (y/n) had scolded him while Megumi and Tsumiki watched a cashier ring up hundreds of dollars worth of supplies they ‘needed’.

“Nah, I’ll buy them the best tutor in Japan so they don’t” He’d replied, sticking his tongue out at her.

(y/n) rolled her eyes, but as she turned her head away to ignore him, she couldn’t help the small smile that graced her face.  She’d been making enough money to support this small makeshift family, but having Satoru around to help was still appreciated.  Of course, she could never tell him that.  His ego was big enough for the both of them.

Once school was back in session, a decent routine was established.  (y/n) picked up as many assignments during the days as she could, so that her nights could be spent helping them with homework, making dinner, getting chores done, and all the other little things that eat away at your free time when you’re an adult.  Not that she could complain, she adored every minute of the new life she worked to maintain.  However there was the occasion where an assignment too good to pass up would be on her radar in the evenings.  It only took one mention of this to Satoru for him to enlist himself as a babysitter.

It wasn’t often that she’d be gone in the evenings.  She liked to be present at all times when Megumi and Tsumiki were home.  They’d spent too much of their lives being alone, and while they proved to be self-sufficient, it made (y/n’s) heart sink at the thought of purposefully leaving them home alone.  So when Satoru showed up on the evening she’d been offered a well-paid assignment to hunt down a Grade Two cursed object, she let him stay to watch the kids.  Not before giving Tsumiki all of the emergency numbers she could think of, and reminding Megumi of the pendant she’d given him, also in the case of an emergency.

“It’s like you don’t trust me, sweetheart!” Satoru had laughed when she spent too long saying her goodbyes at the door.  He hastily began pushing her out, making sure her weapons were secure in their holsters on her back.  “Go! Go! Have fun! We’ll be fine here!” 

“Okay, just don’t forget they go to bed at-” 

“Nine o’clock, I’ve got it” 

“And they need to brush their teeth-” 

“I’m capable!” He barked at her, all but closing the door in her face while he wore a massive grin.

Long story short, Satoru had given the Fushiguro kids twenty bucks if they promised not to tell her that they’d been up long past their bedtime watching an anime with him that was probably less than appropriate for their age.  But they’d just loved it so much he’d insisted they binge half the series.  It was the closest thing to quality time with Megumi that he was going to get, as the kid begrudgingly sat on the couch next to him with his eyes glued to the screen.  Satoru did his best to cover their eyes when an unsavory scene played, which Tsumiki appreciated, but Megumi always pawed the man’s hand away so he could see what was happening.

“If you get nightmares, (y/n’s) going to kill me” He scolded, clamping his palm over the kid’s whole face to ensure he wasn’t going to catch sight of any true horror.

“I don’t get nightmares!” Megumi argued, trying to claw the hand off his face, but his efforts led nowhere, and he only found himself more annoyed as the man-child laughed at the attempt.

It was nearing the middle of the night when Satoru finally turned off the television and sent them off to brush their teeth.  Worried (y/n) would return soon and catch them in the act of disobeying her few rules, he rushed them with hurried claps and chanting to get them into their pajamas and under the covers.  It was Megumi who’d attempted blackmailing him, reminding him that (y/n) was going to know they were up late.  With an amused grin he’d given the boy a fiver.

“Five dollars?” Megumi gave him a bored look, remembering that shopping day with the magic black credit card that paid for his and Tsumiki’s back-to-school haul.  (And a few things for (y/n) too, no matter how much she protested)

Grimacing, Satoru smacked a twenty on his nightstand with the warning that any more, and he’d tell (y/n) he acted up all night and should be punished.  Megumi stuck his tongue out at the man as he flipped off the lights and shut the door for the night.

Joke’s on him, the boy thought bitterly as he settled into his blankets.  (y/n) would believe me over that grown child any day of the week, he thinks with certainty.  He wasn’t wrong.  If it was Satoru’s word against Megumi’s, the liar was evident in his charming smile and flashing eyes.

Satoru had just come back to the living room to clean up the small mess of blankets they’d made when the doorknob rattled with the familiar sound of a key unlocking it.  (y/n) dragged her feet as she made her way inside, a bit surprised to see Satoru awake and alert, her collection of throw blankets draped over his arms and shoulders.

“How’d the assignment go?” He asked as she kicked off her boots, flinging them towards the door with lazy movements.

“I completed it, let’s leave it at that,” She says, and he’d take concern in her words if they weren’t followed by a chuckle, and a small smile sent his way.  “Thank you for watching the kids, Satoru, I really appreciate it” 

He thinks back to this night often, as it was the beginning of (y/n) putting some trust in him as a caretaker.  

Every few weeks now he’d show up in the evening to put the kids to bed while she was out exorcizing curses.  Babysitting slowly morphed into him inviting himself over for movie nights, or even for no reason at all.  The kids- yes, Megumi too- grew used to the man showing up unannounced, before school while (y/n) made breakfast, or during pickup time right by her side, seemingly just as excited to greet them as she was.  He just seemed to be around, sometimes.  Tsumiki loved it, as it usually meant spoiling with toys and ice cream and whatever else (y/n) would let him get away with.  Megumi… tolerated it.  But at least he didn’t despise it anymore.

There was a morning (y/n) had gotten a call from Jujutsu Tech just as she was prepping their lunches for that day, and to her luck Satoru was there and happy to make their lunches for them so that she didn’t have to ignore what could potentially be an important call.

“Okay, just, do you mind making them a little drawing or note, too?” She’d rummaged through a messy cabinet drawer to produce a pack of post-it notes and a pink marker.  “I always leave them a message, or a doodle, or something” 

With her phone pressed between her shoulder and ear as she intently listened to whoever was on the other end, Satoru grinned as he accepted this mission, and got to work.

It wasn’t until she picked them up from school that (y/n) realized her mistake.  Megumi was clutching his stomach as he hobbled towards her in the courtyard, while Tsumiki was skipping along beside her brother, happier than ever.

“What’s wrong? Tummy hurt?” (y/n) knelt down before the boy, her hand resting over her forehead to see if it was a fever.  He groaned and practically fell against her.

“Carry me” 

It wasn’t like him, so she had to laugh as she slung his little backpack over her arm before lifting him up, hearing him groan and moan as all the sweets in his stomach sloshed around like poison.

“Gojo gave us candy! And cookies!” 

(y/n’s) head swiveled down to where Tsumiki was walking- well, still skipping- at her side. 

“What did you say?” 

“Gojo gave us sweets for lunch,” Megumi grumbled as his head slumped into her shoulder, his eyes squeezing shut as a particularly painful knot wound itself up in his stomach.  “And money” 

“What!?” (y/n) snapped, louder than she should have, as the other parents at pick-up gave her a mix of shocked and dirty looks.  Not that she cared.  Her kid was sick and it was because that idiot didn’t know what a vegetable looked like!

“I got fifty dollars!” Tsumiki cheered.

“I got a hundred” Megumi whined.

(y/n) gave the boy a few children’s tums as soon as they got back to the apartment, before tucking him into bed so he could hopefully sleep off the tummyache.

“You just rest, don’t worry about your homework, I’ll call the school if you can’t get to it tonight, okay?” 

Megumi only grumbled and groaned in his gratitude as he curled in on himself.  (y/n) frowned.  The poor kid was squirming around in discomfort and there wasn’t much else she could do about it.

Well, there was one thing…

“Hey sweetheart,” Satoru’s grin could be heard even through the phone.  “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call~?”

“Gojo Satoru, you get your ass to this apartment right now!” 

From her spot at the kitchen table where she’d been studiously doing her homework, Tsumiki perked right up at (y/n’s) hollering from the living room.  Her eyes went wide as she grinned with excitement.  She’d never seen (y/n) mad before, not like this anyways.

Just as she’d summoned him, the man himself stood before her in the living room, grinning as though he hadn’t just been screamed at.

“Pretty early in the day for a bootycall-” 

“Satoru!” (y/n) barked at him, her arms flying out as she placed her hands on her hips.  “Did you give the kids sweets and money for their lunch!?”

“Yeah, they loved it, right?” He looked proud, and she swore she could strangle him.

If she had a nickel for every time she didn’t strangle him…

Tsumiki couldn’t even pretend to do her homework while (y/n) went on a long rant about how much of an idiot was, followed by something about not knowing how to make a sandwich, and then the grand finale of her grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him down the hallway so he could see the effects of his unhealthy meal for Megumi.  Even as (y/n’s) scolding took on hushed whispers so as not to wake the sleeping boy, Tsumiki could still hear the harsh tone from down the hall.

When she was dragging him back towards the kitchen again, the young girl quickly picked up her pencil and kept her eyes on her paper.  She wasn’t fast enough, as Satoru noticed and stuck his tongue out at her.

‘Tattletale’ he mouthed at her.

She grinned back at him unapologetically.

(y/n) spent the next fifteen minutes giving Satoru a full tour of the kitchen, pointing out each and every item each of the kids loved, and then she dragged him through it all again to show him what they each disliked.  Tsumiki worked on her studies the whole time, and not once did she see the white haired man complain.  He certainly didn’t look pleased about spending his afternoon being scolded like a misbehaving pet, but he didn’t make a peep about it.

He even stuck around the rest of the afternoon to help out with any other chores (y/n) needed done, and he helped make dinner, too.  Well, (y/n) was the one instructing him on what to do, but Tsumiki found the meal to be edible, and actually semi-okay!

(y/n) let him get off easy, as long as he apologized to Megumi when he woke up.  Which he did, and which Megumi begrudgingly accepted.

He’s given the chance to completely redeem himself a few weeks later on a morning (y/n) made pancakes for breakfast.  He made the Fushiguro kids the perfect lunches as he’d called them, and he insisted only a heaping scoop of chocolate chips in his pancakes, not theirs.  (Though he did sneak a handful into Tsumiki’s grabby hands when she caught him dumping the entire bag into the batter).  He even added his own notes in their lunch bags, even though (y/n) had already put her own doodles in them.

Have a good day! Don’t forget to participate a lot so the teacher favors you and gives you good grades! He’d written for Tsumiki.

Make sure to tell (y/n/n) that this lunch was made extra special for you so i get some brownie points <3 Was Megumi’s note.

He rolled his eyes as he crumpled it up and threw it back into his lunch bag without a second thought.  When he’d brought it home that day and put it back in it’s spot in the cupboard he’d completely forgotten it.  So it sat there until the next morning when (y/n) was preparing their lunches again.

When she unzipped the bag to see the small piece of trash, she’d almost made the mistake of scolding Megumi for not throwing it away.  But for some reason curiosity got the best of her as she smoothed out the creases of the pink post-it, only to be gifted with a nervous swell of her heart.  She couldn’t explain why, but she tucked it away in her pocket and went about the rest of the morning with a smile on her face.  Megumi and Tsumiki were just glad to see her in a good mood, and didn’t question it too much.

The subject of the note didn’t come up again until the night of (y/n’s) twentieth birthday.

With it being such a big milestone, Shoko insisted on taking her out for the night.  She’d been twenty for a few months longer, and had been biting at the bit to have her best friend share nights with her on the dancefloor at the bar she’d been frequenting mostly alone.  Satoru would go with her sometimes as well, since he was of age too, but Shoko claimed it was no fun when he wouldn’t drink.  (y/n’s) birthday was a big deal.

So naturally and per Shoko’s demand, Satoru was set to babysit- as much as the Fushiguro kids hated the word- while Shoko took (y/n) out for the night.  And it went…

“Would you take the damn shoes off already? You’re going to break an ankle” Satoru’s arm shot out to stabilize the giggling, wasted girl stumbling beside him as he tried to guide her through her building’s lobby.

“No,” (y/n) shook her head defiantly before swatting his hand at her waist with the same attitude.  He didn’t move it, and she didn’t try to push off his help again.  “I loooove these shoes!” 

In an eager display she kicked her foot outwards, showing off the strappy heel that was already starting to untie at her ankle and droop a bit off of her foot.  To Satoru’s surprise, she actually kept her balance perfectly fine on one foot.

“Keep your feet on the ground,” He reprimands anyways, just as she goes back to walking normally.  “Don’t make me teleport you up there” 

“Don’t you dare!” She shouts back at him, and he has to fight off a laugh as he shushes her.

He’d seen (y/n) drink before, on the occasion Shoko or Suguru had managed to get their hands on anything, but he’d never seen her like this.  Although he’d been slightly annoyed when he’d been called to play designated teleporter and bring both girls home from their celebration at a club he’d never heard of.  The annoyance only increased tenfold when after the initial trip, (y/n) had warned him she was bound to be sick if he did it again.  Which led them here, with Satoru trying to corral her into the elevator at two in the morning.

He’d rought Shoko straight to the spare room, where she’d passed out on top of the covers without so much as a goodnight.  She’d wake up feeling like she’d been struck by a bus for sure, but at least she had no issue with the effects of teleporting.

She continued to grumble about her offense to his threat.  Satoru chuckled as he all but pulled her into the elevator.

“I’m not, I’m not,” He assured her, making sure she was steady leaning back against the wall before pressing the button for her floor.  “You’re not gonna get sick in here, are you?” 

She shakes her head, but her eyes are closed as she cranes her neck all the way back, grinning at who-knows-what.  Nothing amusing had happened- besides her own drunken antics- but Satoru finds himself infected by her, and he’s smiling as well.

“It was sooo m’ch fun,” She answered his unspoken curiosity.  “Shoko’s a realllyy good dancer, I had n’ idea” 

“I’m glad it was fun,” He tells her, and he means it.  Even when he has to guide her off the elevator and to her door like it was her first time there.  “You’ll have to take me dancing with you next time, I could show you some moves” 

Normally she rolls her eyes at his flirting, or hits his shoulder in that silent motion she always does to remind him that they were friends and she’d drawn a thick line in the sand just to prove it.  Tonight, she giggles like she couldn’t have kept her humor and joy contained if she tried.  Her teeth flash as she grins from ear to ear, her eyes crinkle and they smudge some of her mascara against her skin as they do but she doesn’t seem to care.  She doesn’t seem to notice.  She just smiles and laughs at him.

His heart warms, so much he worries it might melt completely if he leaves it there in the palms of her hands, but he lets it remain in it’s place anyway as he pauses at the door of her apartment, lingering in the hall for just a moment longer so he could admire her like this.

Happy.  Happy with him.

Satoru might be delusional, but her head tilts to the side, almost dropping to her shoulder from how heavy it feels, and he thinks from the look in her eye, that maybe she could be admiring him, too.

Reality is cruel and reminds him that even if she was, she wasn’t in the right state of mind, and she very well could have been lost in her thoughts.  So he pushes his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose before unlocking the door and making sure she walked in okay.

“You’re home!” 

The excited cheer from Tsumiki is quickly drowned out by Satoru’s scolding.

“What are you both doing up?” He asked, uncharacteristically irritated with them.

“You left,” Tsumiki shrugged innocently.

Megumi, who sat beside her on the sofa, seemed to have fallen asleep against the armrest, his arms wrapped around his head for a better cushion as he continued to slumber, even through his sister’s loud shriek.

“And we wanted to give (y/n) her birthday present” The girl finished sweetly.

“It’s two in the morning, it’s not even her birthday anym-” 

“Awww!” (y/n) cooed as she clasped her hands over her mouth in shock.  “Tsu that’s so sweet of you! I can’t wait to see it!” 

It took some arguing, but Satoru eventually convinced (y/n) to get her ridiculous heels off while he put the kids back to bed.  Megumi didn’t fuss once when he picked him up off the couch.  He didn’t even bat an eye.  Tsumiki was a bit more upset with the trip back to bed.

“But she wants her present!” 

“You can give it to her in the morning,” Satoru told her.  “It’s late.  She’s going to crash.  Trust me, she’ll be far more excited about it tomorrow” 

Tsumiki pouted as she begrudgingly climbed into bed, but didn’t argue again after Satoru tucked her in and shut her door for the night.  She even gave him a small goodnight.

“Sweet dreams, kiddo” 

“Is (y/n) going to be okay?” She asked before he could shut the door all the way.  He laughed to himself, nodding his head.

“Nothing to worry about, she might just have a tummy ache.  She’ll sleep it off,” He assured her.  Tsumiki nodded back at him as she settled back into her feathery pillow, overwhelmed by her sleepiness rather quickly.  “Just get some sleep, I’ll take care of her” 

Tsumiki seems satisfied with this answer, as she nods and starts to drift off to sleep.  What Megumi lacked in faith in Satoru, Tsumiki made up for tenfold.  For starters, she seemed to actually like him.  She was always happy to have him as company, always trying to climb up to his shoulders and demanding he piggy back her anywhere they went.  Megumi tended to cling to (y/n’s) side, knowing she’d protect him from Satoru’s physical affections.  But secondly, Tsumiki could pick up on the sweet little things that her younger brother didn’t.  She noticed the way that Satoru listened when (y/n) was talking.  The way his eyes never lost focus when they were on her, the way his teasing picked up, as did the pet names.  Honestly, Tsumiki wasn’t sure if Megumi didn’t notice, or if he was completely ignoring it, because it was hard to miss.  

Satoru was very sweet on (y/n).

So when he said he’d take care of her for the night, Tsumiki believed him.

Before Satoru can make his way back to the living room where he’d left the plastered birthday girl, he could hear her across the hall, a soft voice through the open door opposite of Tsumiki’s.

He peeks his head through the crack in the door, about to chastise her for waking up the sleeping eight year old, but the scold dies in his throat as he catches sight of them.

She’s perched on the side of his bed, one leg tucked under herself as she hums a gentle, melodic tune.  One hand is combing through the mess of Megumi’s hair that’s grown tangled from his tossing and turning, and he doesn’t seem to stir or be bothered at all from the action like he usually is when someone touches his hair.  But even more out of character than that, when (y/n) reaches her free hand to grab the one that Megumi had hanging off his mattress, he lets her hold onto it for a lingering minute after she carefully sets it on a more comfortable place over his covers.  A few lyrics slip past her lips in a murmur of a lullaby amidst her humming.  She gives his hand a squeeze, just a gentle little affirmation to remind him that she was there.

Even from the doorway, Satoru can see the boy’s small fingers wrap around her hand, squeezing back, and then keeping his hold on her.  His initial surprise melts away into something softer.  A warm feeling washing over his chest from knowing that Megumi found a comfort in the woman’s presence, and while he was often too reserved to tell her outright, like his sister would, it was still known that (y/n’s) care for these kids was mutual, returned by the both of them greatly.

With a small smile, (y/n) glances over to Satoru in the hallway, as though to silently ask if he’d seen the small action.  He nodded back at her, before beckoning her to leave the room and let the boy sleep.

“Sleep tight, ‘gumi,” She mumbles softly, giving his head an affectionate scratch before pulling her hand from his hair.  “Love you” 

It was small, but undeniably heard when the half-conscious child mumbles back, “Love you too” 

(y/n) pauses as she’s standing from his bed, her eyes widening with soft surprise at the whispered words.  It hits her then that in the few times she’d casually bestowed them upon the kids it was never quite returned.  Megumi had drifted off to sleep just as her weight had shifted off his mattress, but still, she stood over him with a look on her face as if she expected an explanation.

Not that she needed one- the words spoke for themselves.  Her lips curled into a smile and the alcohol in her system wasn’t the only thing making her chest feel warm.  She gave his hand another squeeze before carefully letting go, making sure it stayed in a place where it wouldn’t hang off the bed again.

On the tips of her toes she leaves the room to join Satoru in the hall.  He makes sure the door is silent as he closes it behind her.

Her small smile breaks into a grin as she gazes up at him, unable to contain her excitement from hearing those silly little words.

“Did you hear that?” She murmurs as her hands grab the front of his shirt.  The quick motion almost has him stumbling as she bounces eagerly.  “He’s never said that to me before!” Her whispered squealing has Satoru mirroring her grin.

“I heard.  I’m happy for you sweetheart,” He tells her, trying to guide her to her room so she could finally crash for the night.  She stumbles along much more pliantly than she had before.  “Not that you needed him to tell you, of course the kid loves you.  They both do” 

A bashful shade of pink dusts her face as they enter her bedroom.  She falls back onto her bed with a content sigh, despite Satoru trying to get her to change into something more comfortable than the fitted little thing she’d called a dress that she’d gone out dancing in.

“I guess I knew that, but, still, it’s nice to hear,” She murmurs up at the ceiling as she stretches her arms across the length of her bed.  She’s bent over it, her toes barely touching the floor as her legs dangle off the side, but in her stupor she seems comfortable enough.  “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right, yaknow?” 

She pats the spot beside her with her hand, and Satoru drags his feet a bit as he wanders over and sits next to her.

“You don’t need to be told that either,” He muses.  

He rests his palms behind him as he lets himself get comfortable in her space.  When they still lived in dorms, he spent just as much time in her room as he did his own.  Now that he thinks about it, he was probably in hers much more than anyone else’s.  It hadn’t seemed weird back then, but now, it feels personal.  Intimate.  He wonders if she feels that way, or if the invitation into her most private space had been extended without a second thought.  Satoru pulls the shades off his face and tosses them to the side, between the two of them.

“They know you love them, too.  Always have,” He reassures her.  “You’ve done right by them.  You gotta know that” 

(y/n) tilts her head back against the covers, peering up at him from under heavy eyelids as he gazes down at her fondly.  Her room is only lit by the hallway light that’s peeking in through the crack in her not-quite-closed door, and the soft yellow hue paints over his face in a way that somehow makes him more alluring.  Her lowered defenses had her eyes wandering his features longer than she would have had her sober mind worked correctly and reminded her to shut down that curiosity.

That is, she stares at him until the heat in her face and the rapid beating of her heart overstimulates her and she makes herself look away before she says or does something she might regret.

When she does break her long stare, her eyes land on the familiar round shades that happen to be in arm’s reach, and she grabs them and pulls them over her face without a second thought.

Without permission, her mind wanders off to wonder what would’ve happened between them had they gone on that date all those months ago before they graduated.

It’s harder to make out her face with his oversized sunglasses covering her eyes, but Satoru can see her lips tug into a frown.  He’s about to ask her what’s on her mind when she speaks first.

“Would you stay the night?” 

Her fingers are wound into the soft fabric of her covers, fisting it tightly as though it kept her anchored.

“Shoko’s in your spare room already,” He chuckles as he reminds her.  “And she’s hogging the whole bed.  I think if I wake her up she’ll mur-” 

“You can stay in here,” She’s mumbling, half incoherently, but he hears her just fine.  “Like… before” She adds as an afterthought.

He can’t deny the way his heart lurches in his chest at the offer, and the reminder.  The nights he spent sneaking into her dorm to coax her into at least a few hours of sleep, until she’d learned again how to sleep through a night on her own, he’d hold onto forever.  He’d sworn to commit them to memory.  The way she’d melt into his arms, as though she’d only know comfort and solace when embraced by them.  The way she felt against him, against his chest, with her legs wrapped around his, with her face in the crook of his neck, with her hands gripping onto his shirt for dear life, with her heart beating against his.  Satoru had overindulged himself back then, he’d gotten too much of a taste of what domesticity with her could feel like.  Now he craved it, he desperately yearned for it.

The last time they’d even slept in the same room had been the night before their meeting with the Zen’in Clan.  And she’d been far from him, curled up on the floor with that damned letter in her hands.  Satoru wondered now if she still had it.  He wondered if she still slept clutching onto something.  He wondered if she was able to sleep soundly without him now.

He’s sure that he shouldn’t dip even a finger back into this addiction.  He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stand it when she inevitably tells him this is the last time, and pushes him away, again.  

Just like she had done when he’d tried to make them something more.

It’s just one assignment, sweetheart, he’d told her over the phone, knowing fully well that she was all done up on the other end, waiting for him to pick her up at their agreed upon time.  We’ll rain check, promise.

She’d taken in a shaky breath, he could hear it even through the phone, even with the downpour of rain in Yokohama.  He always wondered if she’d cried that day, over him, over the failed attempt at a date, over his failure at showing up for her.

I don’t think it’s a good idea, ‘toru, she’d spoken as evenly as she could, even though it made her voice quieter.

How ‘bout tomorrow, hm? You can pick the place this time, anywhere you want, s’on me- He’d tried to convince her before she could put an end to this thing before it’d even started- hell, they’d barely even had a chance, hadn’t they? 

But her mind had already been made up.  And with a breaking heart, she’d shut him down.

I don’t just mean tonight, she’d said.  I don’t think this is a good idea.

God, he should’ve just stood his ground to the higher ups like he usually did and made someone else take on this stupid assignment.  He wanted to blame them for ruining his one perfect chance with this girl, but at the end of the day, he’d let her decide.  He let her be the one to end it before it really began.

I just… I just need to think about the kids right now, she’d sighed through her words.  As far as excuses go, it wasn’t necessarily a bad one.  They need to come first to me and… and your future should come first to you, too.

He should’ve called bullshit.  He knows that now.  He shouldn't have sat there and agreed with her because he didn’t want them to fight.  Fuck.  He should’ve argued, even if it had meant fighting with her.  As long as it also meant he could’ve seen what she’d chosen to wear for their date, how she’d done her hair, her makeup, then it would’ve been worth it.

I know you’re favored far more over me, but we’ll both always have assignments, she’d explained it like he didn’t already know what this chapter of their lives would look like.  Then again, he’d sat there in silence and let her pour out reason after reason as to why they couldn’t do this.  

Satoru still wasn’t sure if it was him she was trying to convince that day.

And I… and I wouldn’t forgive myself if things didn’t… work… you know? She’d finished shakily, nervously.  For the kids’ sake, Satoru, she’d told him.  For your sake.  For my sake.

He’d agreed.  He’d stupidly agreed.  They never talked about it again after that phone call.  For the most part, nothing had changed.

Except that first time he’d seen her afterwards.  She had a hard time looking at him, and shifted her weight between her feet when he stood too close.  But over time they got back into the groove of their friendship.  He remained abundantly affectionate, and she remained oblivious to the less-than obvious advances.

It was a surprise to him now that she was blurring the lines between them- the lines she’d drawn.  Would it be reckless of him to indulge once more? Would it be painful in the morning when she shooed him away before anyone could know he stayed here, with her? 

Probably.

But what he says is, “Yeah, if you’re sure” 

He does manage to convince her into changing into the comfiest pair of pajamas she could find, so that when she woke it was one less discomfort added to the long list of grievances her hangover would have in store.  Somehow, he gets her to put on a change of clothes and brush her teeth before she’s crawling into her bed with a lazy smile.  It’s almost three in the morning at this point, but worrying about the time is far from Satoru’s mind as she settles into his side like it was still second nature.

Long after she’d dozed off tucked under his arm, he laid there awake, wondering how different things could have been, had he plucked up the courage to say no.  To say this will work, because we want it to work, because I want it to work, because I’ve wanted nothing but to be yours.

But tonight, the only one in this apartment with any guts is Megumi.  Only Megumi was strong enough to articulate how he felt with those special little words that were too heavy for Satoru’s tongue.

With bags under his eyes and sluggish muscles Satoru gets out of bed as soon as he awakes to make breakfast for the full house.  Megumi and Tsumiki are up first, eager for the breakfast buffet Satoru had managed to give them without the smoke alarm going off.  Shoko drags herself out to the kitchen not too long after, downing a full cup of water before bidding them good morning and snagging some of the potatoes before Tsumiki could dump them all on her plate.

Satoru and Shoko tell unflattering stories about (y/n) with great excitement for gossip to the kids while their missing caretaker slept in as late as possible.  Satoru had made sure to bring a cold face mask to her every fifteen minutes or so to keep her headache at bay and hopefully let her sleep as long as she could.  Once she awoke she was in for a world of hurt.  Each time Satoru left the kitchen to do this for her, Shoko turned to the kids with a knowing look and a snicker.

“They were in love in school you know,” She indulged in a more interesting piece of gossip during one of these times.

Tsumiki’s eyes widened as she grinned.  Megumi’s brows furrowed as he pressed his lips together tightly.

“He’d follow her around like a lost puppy, it was hilarious” Shoko shoved a forkful of carbs into her mouth with a fond smile at the memories of lovesick Satoru.

“He still does that” Megumi mumbles, staring down at the remainder of food on his plate.

Shoko beamed with her cheeks full, not at all surprised by the behavior, but endeared to know it hadn’t worn off in time.  Satoru had changed a lot in the last six months, although some might have a hard time noticing, those close to him could see the heaviness he carried on his shoulders with little mannerisms and micro expressions that even he might be convinced aren’t there.  To Shoko and (y/n), who knew the boy like the back of their hand, it was clear.

However she should’ve known that the feelings he’d held for (y/n) since they were fifteen weren’t the kind of feelings that could be worn away.

Satoru’s back in the kitchen attempting to make pancakes in the fun shapes that (y/n) does, desperate to impress everyone- mostly Megumi- but they come out a little more lumpy than hers do.  He complains about it the whole time.  Megumi and Shoko are indifferent.  Tsumiki reassures him that they’re delicious, like the sweetheart she was.

(y/n) joins them for a brief minute, dragging her feet, and a blanket, into the kitchen on a journey to get a big cup of ice water.  The plastic face mask that Satoru had just brought her was velcroed around her head, although loosely, as half of it stayed on her forehead and the other half slipped over one of her eyes.  She made no efforts to fix it.

Shoko’s giggling with great amusement at the state of her lightweight friend.  The blanket cape, the messy hair, the smeared mascara on her exposed eye, it was all too humorous.  She started to pull her phone out to take a picture, but knowing what she was up to, Satoru snatched the device and pocketed it discreetly.  He gave her a sour look, to which she rolled her eyes and went back to breakfast.

He’d fussed over her right away, asking what she was doing up, that he could’ve brought her anything she needed and that she should’ve just hollered.  The three at the table watch as he adjusts her mask for her, reattaching the velcro to fit her snugly, keeping the cool parts of the gel-filled plastic against her throbbing forehead.

Shoko cackles not-so-discreetly behind her hand when he asks her if she was alright for a fourth time.  After a solid minute of insisting that he’d get everything for her, she shuffles back to the comfort of her dark room.

Satoru is quick to fill a cup to the brim with ice and then water, and rather than walk the ten feet to her door, he teleports it to her.  Shoko rolls her eyes and shares a smile with Tsumiki.

“Yeah, nothing’s changed”

It takes a few hours for (y/n) to feel rejuvenated enough to take a shower and join the group lazing around the living room.  Shoko had stayed for the day, so Satoru insisted they take turns picking movies.  (y/n) appears like a woman brought back to life halfway through the second film.  Satoru and Shoko cheer for her revival as she plops on the couch between Tsumiki and Satoru.

“Can we give you your present now?” Tsumiki asks, to which (y/n) eagerly accepts, so she and her brother rush out of the room to retrieve it.

With the kids gone, Shoko can finally give her friends the interrogation she’d been dying to all morning.

“So, you still sleep together, huh?” She raises a curious eyebrow.

(y/n) sighs, dropping her head back against the couch cushion, still feeling too light headed for this conversation.  Satoru doesn’t say anything either, though (y/n) can’t tell if he’s avoiding the conversation, or just didn’t know how to explain himself.  It doesn’t matter, Shoko doesn’t have any more questions, and shortly after, the Fushiguro kids are running into the room again.

They each have a hand on the brightly colored gift bag as they hand it to her.  (y/n) beams at their excitement as she eyes all of the tissue paper they’d stuffed into the bag.

“You help with this?” She muses to Satoru, who shakes his head, looking just as curious as she was.

“We did it all ourselves!” Tsumiki said with a proud grin.

(y/n) pulls out wad after wad of tissue, placing them all on the coffee table as she digs for her gift.  When she finally does get to the bottom of the bag, her lips morph into an ‘o’ as she lifts the piece of art out from the bag.

Shoko’s eyes widen, and Satoru begins to laugh while (y/n) carefully holds the small clay sculpture in her hands.  It couldn’t have been bigger than her hand, but the details were made of delicate pieces of clay, and she worried that if she didn’t handle it with care, it could crumble at her touch.

It was two blades, intersecting to make a perfect X.  The handles sculpted and painted to look quite familiar.

“It’s your swords!” Tsumiki cheered, holding her hands to her face to contain her excitement.

“Wow, this is amazing,” (y/n) admired the sculpture further, taking note of every detail, from blade to hilt, it was a damn good replica.  “You both made this?” 

Tsumiki and Megumi each nodded.

“Tsumiki did the clay, I painted it” Megumi explained.

“We got extra credit in our art classes for it too!” 

Satoru’s laughter grew louder, and (y/n’s) eyes widened with realization as she looked back at the kids.

“You… you made this in school?” She asked, trying not to wince.  “Did you… get in trouble?” 

Sure, the piece was perfect, and their collaboration did deserve some bonus points, but had no administrator gotten upset that an eight and ten year old made a weapon for their art project? 

“I told our art teacher it was from an anime character” Megumi said sheepishly.  (y/n’s) posture relaxed with her relief.

“Smart call,” She chuckles, before setting it down and reaching out to them both to pull them into a hug.  “Thank you.  I love it.  I love that you made it together” 

She sets it on a shelf in the living room with a few other pieces of art and picture frames, making sure to have it be front and center.  Throughout the rest of the movie watching day, her eyes keep wandering to it, wanting to admire the thoughtful craft a little longer. _

Over the next few months, Megumi had been pouting a lot more often.

(y/n) wasn’t sure what it was.  She and Satoru would make his favorite meal for dinner, and he would eat it with a bored expression.  Even with a trip to the library, more practice with his Divine Dogs, extending his bed time for reading purposes only, the boy just seemed to be in a bitter rut.

At first she was worried for him, but Tsumiki had confirmed that nothing was happening at school, he wasn’t being picked on, and his grades, as always, were exceptional.  (y/n) didn’t know what that could possibly leave.

“I just don’t get it,” She huffed as she slumped down into the couch beside Satoru, who had been spending most of his free time at the apartment now.  Some nights he even stayed over, but he always took the guest room.

The night of (y/n’s) birthday had proven to be too much for him.  So when she offered him to stay the night, he made a beeline for the spare bed.  (y/n) never pushed him on it.  But sometimes when they parted ways in the hall, she’d stare at the back of his head, and wonder if he could tell that she’d rather he stayed with her.

Satoru is also caved into the couch cushions, legs spread out wide before him and his arms crossed over his chest.  He looked tired.  He’d spent the whole evening giving Megumi tips and tricks to summoning and befriending his shikigami, hoping to lift the boy’s mood, and maybe score some brownie points, but to no avail.  The boy seemed to have more of an attitude with him than usual, and Satoru wasn’t the best with kids, so he’d given up, and pushed the responsibility back onto (y/n).  Megumi had less of an attitude with her, but his annoyance was still noticeable.

“Do you think we did something?” She mumbles, turning to Satoru with wide, worried eyes, and pinched brows.  Then, she scoots closer to him, until they’re sharing one of the cushions.  He doesn’t flinch at her closeness, unless you count the small hitch in his breath.  “Do you think I did something?” She rephrases her question in an even more haunted whisper.

“No, no of course not,” He shakes his head at her, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head.  “He’s a kid.  Kids are just jerks sometimes” 

“He is not a jerk,” (y/n) says with narrowed eyes.  Satoru shrugs back at her, tilting his lips into a smirk.  “But… he is a kid.  I guess he could just be… acting out” 

“I acted out all the time when I was his age” Satoru nods as he starts to understand some of Megumi’s behavior.

(y/n) rolled her eyes at him.

“You still act out,” She says, and he wants to act offended when he turns to her again, but it’s too cute when she’s pretending to be annoyed with him, so he finds himself smiling at her, almost proudly.  “You’re the jerk, you know” 

“Me?” He holds a hand over his chest, and she giggles quietly to herself at the act.  “You break my heart, Little Hex” 

Again she rolls her eyes as she leans her head back into the couch cushion, letting out her frustration and exhaustion from the day in a quiet sigh.  It had been a while since Satoru had called her that, a nickname he’d coined back in high school.  She could still remember the first time he called her that, with that saccharine smile and shining eyes, like he was waiting for a reaction.  Boy, did he get one.  Somehow with his predictable flirtations, he still managed to make her blush and fluster.  Even now, she felt her face warm at the fond nickname.

“You’ll get over it, Gojo,” She muses in response, letting her eyes fall shut.  “Hey…” She starts to speak again, but trails off, and her eyes are still closed when he looks over at her to give her his attention.

“Hm?” 

“Do you think… he misses his dad?” 

The question hangs between them for a minute.  (y/n) gnaws on her cheek as her eyes glaze over, getting lost in her messy trains of thoughts that were all beginning to collide.  It was no secret that Megumi held a resentment towards his father, more so than his sister, but (y/n) couldn’t help but wonder if a part of him, the part that was growing up, was starting to feel hurt by the space Fushiguro Toji had left behind.

“He might,” Satoru answers honestly, quietly.  (y/n’s) brows fall as her lips tug into a frown.  Of all the things she could fix, all the questions she could answer, that was one thing she had no control over.  “It’s probably complicated.  He might not think he does, you know?”

(y/n) nods absentmindedly, her teeth digging into her bottom lip now as she worries for the young boy.  

What was she supposed to do? All the love and support in the world wouldn’t make up for the man that was supposed to look out for them walking out.  His mother was one thing, he couldn’t even remember her.  But he had a face to his father’s name.  He had memories.  Maybe even love that he’d buried.  The thought makes her stomach twist with guilt.

“I barely remember my parents,” She whispers, and despite the fact that she’s staring at the ceiling with a hardened, fixed gaze, Satoru turns to her when she says this.  “They’re not gone… but they may as well be.  After I was enrolled at Jujutsu Tech…” 

She didn’t need to explain any further.  Satoru already knew the heartbreak she’d gone through as a young child, having non-sorcerers for parents that looked down upon jujutsu society.  She’d shared her story with him once, when they were no older than fifteen, and Satoru was certain he’d never shake a single detail out of his memory.  She held the same look in her eye now that she did back then as she recalled how she’d been shunned for not following a more ‘honorable’ path.

It wasn’t often she thought of her family- she hardly considered those people family anyways- but now they cross her mind as she empathizes with Megumi.

“It’s not the same, I know,” She sighs, shaking her head as though to erase their faces like an etch-a-sketch.  Even after all these years, she hasn’t quite forgotten them.  “But… losing family at a young age sticks with you,” 

Finally, she turns her head to one side, meeting his watchful stare.

“Whether you want it to or not” 

Satoru frowned.

“Missing people is hard like that,” He sighs.

Neither one of them have the strength to talk about him though, so he glides over the topic and brings their focus back to Megumi.

“But he’s still a little kid.  You give him a lot of credit for being so mature, it’s spooky, but he’s going to process things like a little kid,” He reminds her.  “You’re not doing anything wrong.  Neither is he.  He’s just…” 

“Processing” (y/n) mumbles softly.

He nods back at her, bringing his elbow to the top of the couch so he could prop his head in his hand.

“Have you ever…” Satoru trails off, deciding mid sentence if it was a good idea to ask her this question.  She waits patiently for him to continue, in need of any kind of advice on the situation.  “Have you ever thought about opening up to him? You know like… relating to him?”

She blinks, but the rest of her expression doesn’t change.  Not a single movement.  Satoru thinks he might have suggested the wrong thing, but before he can take it back, she gives him a small smile.

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea,” She hums, and she can see he’s shocked that she thought so.  “You’re almost getting decent at this parenting thing” 

He chuckles, dropping his hand from his head to stretch his arm across the length of the couch, beckoning her to come closer.  She huffs in defiance, but doesn’t have any further protest as she slides closer to him, until their legs are pressed together and her head leans into his shoulder.

“I’m learning from the best” He chuckles like it’s a tease, but his words couldn’t have been more genuine.

It took some time for (y/n) to approach the subject with the boy.

But it was one night while they were walking home late together that just felt like the right time.  It was just the two of them, (y/n) had brought him to a secluded place in the woods they found where it was safe for him to practice summoning his shikigami, while Satoru stayed at the apartment with Tsumiki.

It was late, the sun had gone down an hour ago, and the streets had cleared enough to give them a bit of privacy as they made their way back to the apartment.

So she figured, here goes nothing.

“Has something been bothering you, Megumi?” 

At first he drops his head, staring down at the sidewalk as he mulled over the question.  If (y/n) focused enough, she could see the gears in his head turning, weighing his options, the pros and cons, thinking through the possibilities of where this conversation could go.  Had she not been worried about him, she might have giggled at how cutely the eight year old processed any question asked of him.

“You don’t need me to remind you that you can tell me anything,” She tells him honestly, glancing up at the stars beginning to shine through the night sky.  “You’re allowed to be upset about things, you know” 

“I know” He finally mumbles out, kicking a stray pebble in his path. 

On uneven edges, it rolls awkwardly onto (y/n’s) side of the path.  She gently kicks it back to his side.  They play this little game in silence for a few minutes, until Megumi kicks it with too much enthusiasm and it’s sent into the storm drain.  Teasingly, (y/n) tells him she’s won.

“I feel bad for being upset” 

She looks down at him upon this confession, tilting her head curiously, wondering what it could be that he’s been carrying that’s making him feel so lost.

“That happens sometimes,” She treads lightly.  “As long as you know that you shouldn’t.  You can’t help what you feel, you know” 

Megumi sighs, his shoulders slumping forward with a restlessness he was far too young to feel.

“I guess,” He replies, because he knows she’s right.  Still, it was hard to be comforted when there was a loom of guilt hanging over his head like a storm cloud.  “I don’t think I like love” 

(y/n) hums as she takes in the statement.  It was heavier than he’d realized, and it took her a minute to really think about it, about what he must be feeling.  She had a sneaking suspicion that this was about his father, after all.

“Love is complicated, isn’t it,” She sighs, and it’s not a question, moreso a statement of fact.  Megumi doesn’t say anything.  “The world will tell you it’s unconditional.  When in fact… people don’t work like that, do they?” 

He looks up at her, his eyes round with shock, like she’d told him a great secret that he shouldn’t have been allowed to hear.  Santa isn’t real, or this is all a simulation.

“Individual people are so different, and they’re meant to be, aren’t they?” This time she waits for his response, but Megumi can only muster up a nod.  She takes it.  “Everyone has their standards, their conditions.  Even you, right?” 

“I don’t like it when people are mean for no reason” Megumi comments, and (y/n) smiles as she nods at him, affirming that he understood what she was saying.

“Exactly,” She muses.  “It’s just… some people’s conditions… well, they’re unreachable.  Impossible.  Sometimes they’re outright dumb” 

Honestly, Megumi’s not sure where this little rant is coming from, but he finds himself hanging onto her every word anyways.  It intrigued him, the way she described love.  He’d never heard someone speak about it with such… distaste.

Usually adults tried to tell him that love is the ultimate happiness.  Romantic love, familial love, platonic love, whatever it may be.  He was always reminded that love was powerful, beautiful, transcendent.  To hear (y/n) speak of it now like it was a trick to be wary of was confusing to him, but he was intent on learning more.

“I’ve never talked to you about my family, have I?” She asks, and again, it’s less of a question, and more of a prompt, a catch for him to realize that no, she’d never mentioned anything about a family.  She only ever spoke of her classmates and colleagues at Jujutsu Tech.

Megumi shakes his head, feeling his guilt hovering over his head again as he realizes he’d never even thought to ask about the subject.

“Well, there’s a reason,” (y/n) says, easing some of his anxiety.  “They had conditions to their love.  Ones that I couldn’t meet.  Or, refused to, is more like it” 

“Really?” Megumi’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Yep,” She affirmed.  “They didn’t want me to be a jujutsu sorcerer” 

Now he looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.  His mouth dropped open and his eyes grew impossibly bigger.

“Why?” 

“They weren’t gifted like you and me,” She explains.  “They were non-sorcerers, had never even heard of jujutsu society.  So you can imagine their surprise when their kid started teleporting all around the house.  I was a handful, you know,” 

Megumi lets out a little giggle at the idea, and (y/n) smiles warmly that he’s starting to break down the walls he’d been building up around him in his seclusion.  

“I was no older than you when my cursed technique manifested,” She tells him.  “And it wasn’t long until someone from the school found me” 

“Just like you came to us?” Megumi asked.

(y/n) tilted her head from side to side.

“It was a bit different,” She admitted.  “They wanted to enroll me at the school, train me to properly hone my technique, teach me about the real world of jujutsu, it was a big ask.  A big change” 

“But your parents didn’t want you to go?” Megumi’s brows furrowed.

(y/n) nodded down at him.

“They forbid it” 

The boy shook his head, trying to understand, but he was struggling, too puzzled by this story.

“But, why?” He asked.  “Jujutsu sorcerers are good! You have cool powers- that- that can help people,” He looked up at her with his face contorted by his confusion.  “Why didn’t they understand?” 

(y/n) gives him a sad smile.  She’d asked herself that same question for years after she’d left her home in pursuit of something greater than it, greater than her.

She looks forward as they continue their walk, not too far from the apartment building now.

“They were so worried about losing their kid, that they didn’t think about the damage they’d do by keeping them from following their passion,” She told him the truth, as harsh as it sounded.  “And they ended up losing me anyways” 

It’s quiet for a few beats, until Megumi let out a soft, “Oh” 

“Megumi,” (y/n) calls, reaching down for his hand.  

He lets her grasp onto it.  They stop in their tracks, and he turns to face her.  She still has that small, sad smile on her face.  He recognizes this smile.  She wears it when she’s trying to make him feel better, when she’s trying to convince someone, or herself, that things are alright.  He’s seen this smile so many times now that he wishes she would just frown, but he knows she won’t.  He knows that until the day she leaves this earth she’s going to be the strong one, the one that protects them, no matter the cost.  He’d learned this shortly after meeting her, but he didn’t come to really understand it until the day he was almost taken away from her, and from his sister.

Megumi is a child.  And while (y/n) had grown older in age, and quite a bit in maturity, she really wasn’t that much older than him, in the grand scheme of things.  She’d given up more than just a summer vacation after graduating in order to take in him and his sister.  She’d never talk about it, but Megumi has picked up on the fact that if she wasn’t so busy playing caretaker, then she would have been able to pursue more of her real passion, exorcizing curses.  Sure, she still took plenty of assignments, but it was hard to take the big ones overseas, or the higher grade curses, because she couldn’t leave the two of them alone for too long.

(y/n) crouches before him now, his hand still in hers, and that melancholic smile still present on her lips.

“I believe that your dad loved you, so, so much,” 

His brows furrowed together.  My dad? He thought to himself, as if the words didn’t translate to his language, as if he couldn’t quite remember what they meant, or who they referred to.

“I believe that he did the things he did because he wanted to do what he could for you.  I know it doesn’t make sense now… and honestly it might never make sense.  But I think he was trying to do right by you both he just…” 

She trails off, and for a split second, that false smile falters, and falls into a sad expression that he’d rarely gotten to see on her.  Something snags in Megumi’s chest, an uneven beat of his heart, a pain in his ribs he wasn’t familiar with.

“He just didn’t know how,” She finishes softly, and just as quickly she’s crafting her face to be gentle and comforting again.  “But I’m sorry that he’s not here” 

Megumi tilts his head at her curiously, trying to speculate on what it was to make her say these things to him.

“That’s okay,” He says in a tone that has (y/n) feeling a bit confused too.  Her hand loosens around his, and he pulls away, about to continue their walk.  She quickly stands to walk beside him.  “I don’t really think about him anyways” 

“You don’t?” She asks.  Megumi shakes his head.

“No, he doesn’t really matter, does he?” 

Wow, (y/n) thinks.  What an emotionally mature child.  But if it wasn’t his absent-now-dead father bugging him, what had been on his mind?

“Hey (y/n),” Megumi calls before she can ask him her question, and she gives him her attention.  “What are your conditions?” 

“My conditions?” She repeats, although she knows what he means.

“Yeah” Megumi replies in a small voice.

“Silly kid,” She giggles and ruffles his hair, much to his annoyance, but he doesn’t swat her hand away, just glares at her as he fixes the messy raven locks.  “I’m the exception to the rule of course.  I have no conditions when it comes to loving you two” 

“Corny,” He mutters with fake malice.  “But what about Gojo, then?”

With a raised brow, (y/n) looks down at the boy, waiting for him to complete the question.  Megumi just stared up at her expectantly, his head cocked towards one shoulder.

“What about Gojo?” She repeats with a tilted inflection, wondering what he was getting at.

Megumi huffs with more annoyance than she could’ve thought his little body was capable of holding.

“Well, don’t you love each other?” He asks, exasperated, like he’d been holding onto this fact for too long, like it was heavy, and he was tired of lugging it around.  “Isn’t that why he’s around all the time? Isn’t that why he never leaves anymore?” 

(y/n’s) lips part in surprise, ready to say something, anything to deflect, or excuse, but she can’t think of a decent enough argument, and she finds herself remaining in silence as they approach their building.

“He’s so obnoxious,” Megumi continues, and (y/n) watches him with a strange curiosity as he goes on to speak.  “He’s loud.  And annoying.  And too touchy,” 

She chuckles fondly to herself, as she couldn’t help but agree with all of Megumi’s grievances with the man.  Of course these were all traits she’d found some way to appreciate.  

He was loud, but he spoke up for others, and had he not done so on her behalf, she might not be here with Megumi now.  He was annoying, but he made it known that he enjoyed spending time around her, and he’d remember all of the things she said she liked or disliked.  He was touchy, but it was just the way he showed affection, every touch, whether it be to hug her goodbye, to pull her to sit closer to him, to comb her hair with his fingers so she could fall asleep peacefully, it all just meant that he cared.

Thinking about it now, her face began to heat up, and her heart began to beat erratically in her chest.  Had Megumi figured it out for her? Had she really grown to love all of those things?

“He doesn’t ever stop talking about you,” Megumi goes on, drawing her out of her thoughts and back to his rant.  “Especially when you’re not around.  He just goes on and on.  About high school, about how cool you are, how pretty you are, how strong you are,” 

Despite his irritation, Megumi’s cheeks begin to burn too, a little embarrassed to be passing this information on.

“And when he makes my lunches, even his notes are about you.  And they’re stupid.  But he’s stupid,” He rolls his eyes between complaints.

(y/n) thinks back to the little post-it she’d snagged from his lunch box a few months ago.  There had been others? She was curious now about what they said.  Did he do it every time he made their lunch?

“And Shoko said you were in love once,” 

Her attention returns to the boy again, eyes round and lips still parted, still waiting to say something that wasn’t coming to mind.  Shoko said that? 

“Are you not anymore?” 

He looks up at her just as they approach the front doors to their building.  (y/n) swallows the lump in her throat as she pushes it open, letting him inside first.  The warm air in the lobby is welcoming, and she pops open the buttons to the light jacket she’d worn to help keep warm during the chilly fall night.

Megumi was still staring at her as they made their way through the lobby to wait for the elevator.  She knows he was expecting an answer, a real one, but truth be told, (y/n) wasn’t sure what the answer even was.

“We were young,” She sighs out eventually, shaking her head as she struggles to come up with the rest.  “Did we have feelings for each other? Maybe, but I don’t know about love.  We were close friends.  Still are” 

She thinks this is a good answer.  It’s the truth, and it’s enough of an explanation to quell Megumi’s curiosities.  She thought wrong.

“Well, what about now?” He asks, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

“You’re nosey tonight,” (y/n) chuckles, trying to nonchalantly brush him off and leave their conversation at that.  But Megumi continues to stare at her with furrowed brows.  “What?” She laughs nervously at him, raising her hands in mock defense.  “What more is there to say?”

“Shoko said you were in love,” He deadpans, and (y/n) makes a mental note to cuss out her friend for gossiping with literal children about her love life- or more accurately, lack thereof.  “So what was the condition that you don’t anymore?” 

“I never said I didn’t-” 

“So you do?”

They stare at each other in silence.

There’s a ding! And the elevator doors before them slide open.

(y/n) ushers Megumi in without a word, and he excitedly pushes the button for their floor.  (y/n) crosses her arms as the doors close again.  Her foot taps anxiously on the floor.

“Is this why you’ve been upset lately?” She finally speaks as the elevator begins to move.  Megumi looks up at her, but her eyes remain focused on the changing numbers on the panel as they pass each floor.  “Satoru’s been around more and you don’t like him?” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him,” Megumi mutters, annoyed at having to admit such a thing.  (y/n) lets out a small chuckle.  “He’s just annoying.  I don’t know why you do,” He explains.  “You’re cooler than him” He adds in a smaller, more bashful voice.

“Can’t argue there,” (y/n) hums in amusement, smiling down at him fondly.  “But you don’t have anything to worry about, ‘gumi,” She says, and seeing as he’s trapped in the small space, when she reaches down and snatches him up with the excitement of finding a stray toad on her path- he can’t do anything but squeal and thrash his arms in protest.  “You’re the only one for me, Fushiguro Megumi!” She cheers in a loud, lovesick manner.

The elevator doors open, allowing anyone on their floor to hear the boy’s screams of torture and giggles of delight when (y/n) tosses him over her shoulder to tickle him relentlessly.

“(y/n)!” He screams her name in choked up pleas of mercy.  “Stoooop!” 

His hollers fell on deaf ears as (y/n) cackled the whole way to the door.  She didn’t let up until she had to fish for the keys in her pocket.  Megumi huffed, hanging limply over her back, panting as he caught his breath, his laughter finally dying down.

“You’re a jerk” He muttered in defeat.

(y/n) cackled as she got the door open, and Megumi’s body was practically swinging behind her back as she hauled him inside.

Much to the delight of Satoru and Tsumiki, who had been sitting at the kitchen table, having a little spa day.

So while they were laughing at Megumi’s distress, (y/n) was laughing at the sight of Satoru with a big fluffy pink headband, the one Tsumiki used for the couple of times that (y/n) would let her do face masks with her.

His hair stuck out in every direction under the big bow on top, and there was a green substance smeared all over his face that (y/n) could only hope was from the rejuvenating face mask tube that she kept with her things in the bathroom.  And better than that- Tsumiki was halfway through painting his names.  He had one hand flat on the table, the polish still drying, while the ten year old held his other hand to carefully apply the color.

“Oh my god,” (y/n) couldn’t help the string of giggles that escaped her, and she finally set Megumi back on the ground so that he could also appreaciate the entertainment.  “You girls have a nice day to yourselves?” 

“Yeah!” Tsumiki cheered.  “We watched a romance anime and Gojo’s letting me paint his nails and we were talking about boys and we’re doing face masks!” 

(y/n’s) still laughing as she kicks off her shoes, before neatly setting them on the small rack by the door with the other smaller pairs of shoes.  She shrugs off her coat and drapes it over the couch before making her way further into the room so she could see what color Tsumiki had chosen for Satoru’s manicure.

“She said we were doing facemasks,” Satoru deadpans as (y/n) peers over the girl’s shoulder.  “But she chickened out” 

“Did not!” Tsumiki argued.  “I just only have one headband.  I didn’t want to get any in my hair” 

(y/n) continues to giggle when she finally gets a look at Satoru’s hands.  Tsumiki had all of her polishes on the table, so each finger was a different color.  Mostly variations of pink and purple, but there was one green and one blue in there too.  When she meets his gaze, he’s silently pleading with her, but her mouth twists into a grin that tells him she was not here to bring him to a merciful end.

“Very good job you’ve done here, Tsumiki,” She praises the girl instead.  “Satoru has never looked prettier!” 

He should’ve rolled his eyes and quipped back some sarcastic remark, but Tsumiki was finally painting his last fingernail and it would all be over soon.  So instead he grins from ear to ear, taking her half-insult as a compliment.

“Why thank you, (y/n/n).  Finally, I’m appreciated for my beauty” 

(y/n’s) the one who rolls her eyes.

Once Tsumiki applies the last stroke of glittery pink polish on Satoru’s pinky nail, (y/n) tasks her with cleaning up the mess on the table.  It appears she’d been ready to give the man a full makeover, looking at all the makeup, nail polish, and hair supplies littered over the surface.

“Come on pretty girl, I’ll get the mask cleaned off your face,” (y/n) beckons for Satoru to follow her towards the bathroom.  “We can’t have you ruining your pretty manicure” She snickers as the pair disappear down the hall.

Megumi helped his sister gather her things back into the boxes she kept them neatly organized in.

“How did it go with your dogs?” She asked curiously.

“Good,” He answers.  “(y/n) is in love with Gojo” 

His sister stares back at him with wide eyes, and a slow grin creeping over her face.

Meanwhile, (y/n) is sitting Satoru down on the lid of the toilet while the sink water runs until it’s warm enough that it won’t be a shock to his skin.  Once it’s ready, she wets a corner of a washcloth and carefully begins to wipe off the creamy face mask.

“I can’t believe you let her do this” She murmurs, bringing the rag back under the running water to rinse away the excess paste.

“(y/n), as a dear friend, I need you to be honest with me,” He says, and her eyes lock on his, her hand stalling in it’s ministrations, holding the rag to his brow as she gives him her undivided attention.  His expression looks grave.  “Is this going to absolutely fuck up my pores?” 

His eyes are wide like he’s never been more afraid of anything in his life, and (y/n) can’t help but burst into laughter as she goes back to cleaning away the cream on his forehead.

“Well, it shouldn’t,” She says, and Satoru visibly relaxes.  “But I don’t know what she was thinking putting so much on your face” 

“Maybe she just wanted to be close because I’m so devilishly handsome” He smirks up at her, and she lets out another laugh, turning back to the sink again to rinse the rag.

“I think she just wanted to play dress up with you” (y/n) mused.

“I think she just wanted to have girl talk,” Satoru replied.  “Which apparently I’m quite good at.  If you’re ever interested” 

Another giggle escapes her as she gets to work cleaning away the cream on his cheek, being careful as she drags the rag slowly under his eye.  She’s focused on her work, but Satoru can’t draw his attention away from her.  He couldn’t remember the last time she stood so close to him, and right now her face hovered just a few inches away from his.

It was hard to keep his hands firmly planted on his knees, and not hold her by the waist and draw her into the space between them.  But then he’d ruin his manicure.

“I didn’t realize she was getting so interested in boys,” She hums thoughtfully.  “Any juicy details?” 

“Not really,” Satoru shrugs.  “I told her to start playing hard to get if she really wants to get someone’s attention.  She said she didn’t want their attention.  She just likes making friends with the cute boys in her class” 

(y/n) laughs softly and shakes her head, but she can’t help but smile proudly to herself.

“That’s my girl,” She praises, even though Tsumiki wasn’t present.  “She doesn’t need boys right now.  She’s doing great in her classes” 

Satoru shrugs a shoulder.

“You enjoy girl talk, hm?” She asks.

Admittedly, she could have cleaned his face of all this face mask cream by now, but she couldn’t help her slow movements.  The longer she dragged this on, the longer she could stand right in front of him and stare at his pretty features.  Her conversation with Megumi was still on the front of her mind, and while she’d brushed off the boy’s questions about her feelings minutes ago, standing before Satoru now, she wasn’t so sure she could deny them.

She’d known for a long time that she harbored strong feelings for him.  While at first she’d squashed them down because she refused to admit she’d fallen for an arrogant fool like him, over time, she’d come to understand him better, and soon he’d become one of the greatest people she’s ever known, and she wasn’t so sure she’d ever meet anyone like him again.

But things got messy. She got involved with the Fushiguro’s, [redacted] defected, and now that they’ve graduated and are trying to lead their own lives, it just got too complicated.

It didn’t help that when he’d tried to take things to a more than platonic level, she’d shot it down as soon as things got tricky.  As soon as he got called into an assignment the night they were going to go out, she’d closed herself back up, rebuilt the wall around her, and told him it was never going to work, so they may as well never try.

She’d done the right thing, right? 

Trying not to stare too long at him now, she wasn’t so sure.

“Oh, I quite love girl talk,” Satoru grinned.  “No wonder you and Shoko always snuck off.  Hey, you ever talk about me?” His grin turns into a smirk as his bright eyes try to catch hers.  She pretends to be too focused on clearing the green goop off his nose.

“Only when I needed to complain,” She muses affectionately.  “I’m sorry to say most of our gossip involved Ijichi” 

“That kid that’s a manager?” He asked with a furrowed brow.  “That’s your type?” 

He sounded annoyed, and confused.  (y/n) chuckled, turning back towards the sink for another rinse.

“No,” She shakes her head, and Satoru readjusts his posture, sitting up a little straighter with his confidence returned.  “But he was always smitten with Shoko.  I think eventually he was so into her she couldn’t help but take an interest in him, too,” 

Satoru nods, pursing his lips as he thinks back on it.  There were a few times that she’d blown off plans to twirl her hair at the younger boy.  He’d always thought she was just messing with him, now he wonders if anything ever came of it.

“I think they hooked up a couple times,” (y/n) indulged in a quieter voice, her eyes meeting his with a curious excitement he hadn’t seen in a while.  “She never admitted it.  But I’ve seen the hickeys.  That’s all I’m saying” 

Satoru laughed with delight.  He really did enjoy girl talk.  He also enjoyed seeing (y/n) this happy.

“Well geez.  I guess I’ll have to hit her up on that.  What’s she got on you, huh?” 

Her brows pinched together as a scoff of a laugh escapes her, her lips stretching into an awkward smile.  Her eyes meet his and they’re prodding, eager to hear more of this juicy content.

(y/n) shakes her head as more nervous laughter bubbles up.

“Afraid you’ll be rather bored, ‘toru” She hummed, going back to scrubbing the cream off of his other cheek.

“What, no time for boys?” He leans forward, making her stall in her movements, and bringing her gaze back to his.  Her eyes flicker between his for a moment, trying to figure out why he was asking this of her now.  He knows the answer to this question.  Why was he even asking it?  

Her head tilts at him in a small movement as she thinks through her answer, her eyes never leaving his.

“That’s private” She murmurs, just to gauge his reaction.

It was a pleasant one indeed.  Only because she got an up close look was she able to see the twitch in his brow, the slow locking of his jaw before quickly relaxing it.  So the notion that she did have something to tell bothered him.  Interesting.

“So you have a little time for boys, then?” He asks, and the grin that stretches on his lips is anything but eager.  It’s counterfeit.  And almost poisonous.

“Why the sudden interest?” She hums, straightening her posture and going back to cleaning his face.

“Why the sudden need for privacy?” He asks, leaning forward again, seeing as she’d tried to put a few inches of distance between them.  Her eyes briefly catch his, but she’s quick to return her focus.  “I thought we said no more secrets” 

A humorless laugh escapes her throat as she shakes her head at him.

“Satoru, how many times are you going to assume I’m hooking up with someone when I’m not?” She asks, only half-teasing.

“Hey, that’s not all on me, you were the one sneaking around in the middle of the night! A bootycall was the only logical answer” 

“Except it wasn’t, and it isn’t” (y/n) reminds him.

“I’m still not totally convinced” He grumbles, rolling his eyes away from hers as he mulled over the scraps of evidence in his head.

“I can’t tell if you’re being nosey or completely jealous” She muses.

“Can’t a guy be more than one thing?” His eyes are on hers again in an instant as he grins up at her, this time with his usual charm that he tried to pull.

“Sure you can,” She grins back at him.  “And you’re predictable” 

His grin falls, but not completely.  His lips are still curled into a soft smile as he stares up at her.  It’s quiet for a moment, and there’s still some green mask left on his chin, but it’s momentarily forgotten as she gets lost in his stare.

She supposes she’d get jealous, too, if he started talking about seeing someone else.  Someone else, she thinks to herself, a small crease forming between her brows.  And that wasn’t fair of her to think, was it? He wasn’t hers, she’d made sure of that herself.  But fuck, if the idea didn’t make something nasty twist in her gut.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” She blurts out, as if it wasn’t already clear to him that this was the case.  “If that’s what you’re getting at.  I don’t know why, you know I-” 

She stops herself before something she doesn’t want to say out loud.  He tilts his chin at her, curious to hear the rest of what she was going to say, but judging by the way she presses her lips together in a small smile, he gets the feeling that she’s swallowed her words.

Silently, she wipes the last patch of green cream off of his chin, and turns around to rinse the wash cloth thoroughly.  After working out all of the mask from the cloth, she rings it out and drapes it over one of the towel bars to properly dry.  When she turns back to Satoru, he’s raising his hands to pull the headband off.

“Wait,” Her voice is soft but it still stops him as she reaches out towards him.  “I’ll get it,” She tells him as she loops her fingers through the fluffy band.  “I was serious about not messing up your nails” 

A small giggle escapes her as she slides the headband off, letting his hair fall around his ears and over his forehead.

“I appreciate that you care about my manicure” He half-teases.

Absent-mindedly, she brings her fingers bag to his hair, sweeping a few loose strands away from his eyes.  She doesn’t even realize what she’s done until her eyes meet his, and suddenly she’s retracting her hand and staring back at him with wide eyes.

“I- sorry-” 

“Don’t be,” Satoru smiles at her as he stands from the seat, stretching his tired limbs after sitting there for the last fifteen or so minutes.  “You want help making dinner tonight?” 

Just like that he’s strolling out of the bathroom with her in tow, telling her all of the ideas of things he wants to learn to cook.  A lot of his list is baked sweets, but she listens to him ramble on anyways.  It’s a good distraction for her to calm her racing heart. _

It’s a horrendously chilly day in december when paths cross that (y/n) would have never expected.

She, Satoru, Shoko, and the Fushiguro kids had been out for the day.  It had started with a breakfast that they’d tried to make happen weekly, but had quickly turned into strolling around the shops in Tokyo so the kids could make their christmas wish lists.  This of course was more or less a grocery list of things that Satoru was bound to buy as soon as he received this list, but it was fun for everyone nonetheless.

They’d just walked out of a pet shop, despite (y/n) making it clear that there would be no pets for christmas, claiming Megumi’s dogs were enough.  She was reminding Tsumiki- and Satoru- of that fact as they walked out.

“What do you need a hamster for? Isn’t Megumi feisty enough?” She’d laughed as she’d pulled her hat over her head to keep her ears safe from the nippy cold breeze.  Megumi gives his sister a wide grin, maybe out of pride, even.

“Because they’re so small and cute and fluffy-” 

“Not helping, Satoru,” She swatted at his arm to stop him from getting Tsumiki’s hopes up, before turning her attention to the girl.  “We’re not getting a hamster” 

Just as Tsumiki’s pouty face was almost starting to work, (y/n) catches sight of an old familiar face, and her attention is quickly ripped away from the present as a beam stretches over her mouth.

“Nanami!” 

He’s across the street, so she has to jog to get to him and catch his attention, leaving everyone else without much more of an explanation.

“Been awhile since I’ve seen Nanamin,” Shoko’s the first to speak, as the rest of them are staring at (y/n) as she catches up with the blonde man.  Megumi and Tsumiki watch on with surprise, and a little confusion.  While Satoru’s eyes narrow into a glare behind his shades.  “He looks… good” 

This turned his glare towards the woman, who pursed her lips and shrugged a shoulder.  “What?” She asked innocently.  “The haircut suits him” 

When Nanami Kento finally hears his name and sees (y/n) making her way to him, he lights up.  Recognition turns to delight as she approaches him, and when her arms open wide, he steps closer so that she can throw them around his neck and hug him like he was an old friend, and not just a past acquaintance that had shared trauma.

“Don’t remember them being so close” Satoru huffs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat so that no one could see the way they ball into tight fists.

Hearing the odd seriousness in the usually overly-cheery man’s tone had Megumi looking up at Satoru out of curiosity.  He wore a grimace, even with the shades covering his face, it was perfectly clear.  When the boy glanced back towards where (y/n) was animatedly talking with the man he sort of recognized, an idea brewed in his head.

Tugging on the puffy sleeve of Tsumiki’s coat, Megumi gave her a look, making her follow his line of sight from Satoru’s evil eye, to where (y/n) and her supposed friend from high school were reconnecting.  Tsumiki looked back and forth a few more times, noting how Gojo’s brow furrowed particularly harder as (y/n) grabbed the man’s arm and began to lead him back towards them.

As Nanami and (y/n) grow nearer, Satoru does his best to relax his features, but with the way she’s talking to him so enthusiastically, smiling and gesturing with her hands, he can’t help but have some intrigue.

Questions like when the hell did they get so buddy-buddy? And since when did Nanamin know how to smile? Flooded his mind.  He was dying to know what it was that you were talking about that had you both looking so… engaged.

“Your jealousy’s showing,” Shoko snickered, knocking her elbow into Satoru’s.  He sent her a half-playful scowl, which only made her grin in amusement.  “And here I thought you grew out of that?” She teased.

Meanwhile, and as oblivious as ever, (y/n) had been filling Nanami in on all of the excitement she’d endured since graduating.  He congratulated her, and asked all of the appropriate questions about the kids and the beginning of her career as a jujutsu sorcerer.

“You have to come properly meet the kids,” She’d told him, gesturing back to where the oddball looking group stood outside of the pet shop.  

Nanami glanced over, briefly catching Gojo’s nasty gaze before he smoothed it out into something more friendly.  It didn’t look remotely authentic, but it didn’t help that Shoko was cackling and knocking her arm against his, as though calling him out for his behavior.  He supposed some things would never change.

(y/n) was linking her arm through his and walking with him back towards everyone before Nanami could find a way to politely decline the offer.  It was nothing against the Fushiguro kids, (y/n) made them out to be pleasant little angels, but he had a feeling that Gojo wouldn’t be too keen on her inviting him over.  Especially not arm in arm.

“So you and Six Eyes finally made it work, huh?” The blonde asked, semi bitterly, semi curiously.

(y/n) ducked her head to hide the blush dusting over her cheeks.  Although she supposed it was cold enough outside she could play it off as a chill, she had a feeling Nanami would see through the lie.

“Uh, not exactly.  I mean- not like you mean, anyways.  He helps with the kids a lot” She stammers over her explanation, not knowing the proper way to define their relationship.  Friend seemed too informal and broad to describe what they shared.  Partner was… well, there was a certain connotation there, wasn’t there? Rather than try to find a label for it, she decides instead to shut her mouth.  

Nanami chuckled.

Some things really would never change.

“Still got him to settle down though, hm?” Nanami hums, watching as Gojo ruffles up the hair of the little boy, who then proceeds to turn around and growl at him, smacking at his hand.

This was (y/n’s) little angel? Nanami wondered as the two began to bicker like they were both children.  He couldn’t hear what they were arguing about, but from what he could see, he had a feeling the boy was in the right.

“So he’s… good with the kids?” Nanami asks, and the pair watch as Satoru’s solution to end the bickering was to lift up the kid by his ankle, dangling him in the air.

(y/n’s) eyes momentarily widen, and she jolts as if she’s going to run at the two- probably to scold Satoru and cradle Megumi in her arms like he was younger than he was- but she just as quickly relaxes as Satoru plops the boy on his shoulders.  Megumi is still scowling, but appears to relax and let's Satoru hold him by the ankles while he sits.  (y/n) makes a mental note to take a picture of them later when they’re not paying attention.

“Sometimes,” She finally answers Nanami’s question.  “Tsumiki loves him.  Megumi won’t admit it… but I know he likes him more than he lets on” 

“So you’ll raise kids together, but you won’t put a label on things?” Nanami chuckles.

She looks over at him with a half smile and a raised brow.

“You sure care a lot about my love life, Nanamin~” She points out.  “So what is it? You got a special someone that’s got love on your mind?” 

He laughs again, not because she’s right, but because it was so like her to deflect like her life depended on it.  She had gotten better at it since the last time he’d seen her, too.

When they do approach the rest of her group, Satoru’s line of sight is firmly set on the place where (y/n’s) elbow is hooked around Nanami’s, and it stays there while she introduces the kids to him.  He doesn’t look up, or even force a polite smile, until Shoko is stepping forward and making them split up as she hugs Nanami.

Then, and only once (y/n) stepped closer to Satoru, putting some distance between her and the ex-sorcerer, does he relax.  Megumi groans and kicks his feet out of Satoru’s hold, annoyed by the way he’d gripped his legs.  During the pleasant small talk (y/n) and Shoko makes with the man, Satoru remains silent.  Behind his shades his eyes are piercing and although Nanami can’t quite see it, he certainly feels it.  It’s a bit unsettling, but just like in high school, it was more irritating than anything else.  

Despite barely speaking to him, before the blonde man goes to part ways, Satoru scribbles something down on a receipt he’d found in his pocket, and passes it off to him.  Nanami’s surprised to see it’s a phone number.

“For if you ever want to get back out there,” Satoru said with a nod.  Nanami blinks as he stares at the Six Eyes user, and then back at the receipt.  “I’d get ya back on the field in a jiffy, no questions asked” He continued with a grin, before making a point to sling an arm over (y/n’s) shoulders.  She stumbles as he pulls her against his side, caught off guard by the sudden affection, but she relaxes just as quickly, and doesn’t appear upset by the action at all.

“Thanks” Nanami settles with a small nod of his head.  He doesn’t think he’d ever go back into the world of jujutsu sorcery, but the proposal was still a thoughtful one.  Especially so when he thought he’d been on the man’s shit list for merely talking to (y/n).

They say their goodbyes and part ways with a weak promise of brunch sometime.

Shoko is dragging Tsumiki into the next boutique, saying something about hair accessories that should be on her wish list.  Leaving (y/n) and Satoru to follow behind, with Megumi still perched on Satoru’s shoulders.

(y/n) tucks her hands into the pockets of her coat, stepping out from under his arm, but still walking closely by his side.

“You really think he’ll come back?” She asks after a beat passes, too curious about his thoughts to wait until another time to bring it up.

“I don’t know,” He answers honestly, shrugging his shoulders, although the movement is stiff and awkward with Megumi resting on them.  He giggles a bit at the movement.  “But he looked… bored, didn’t he?” 

When he looks down at her to gauge her reaction, she gives him a small nod.

“Figured a change of pace would be good for him” Satoru finished.

“Maybe you can train him again (y/n),” Megumi pipes up.  He leans over Satoru’s head, resting his arms across the white locks before setting his chin against the puffy sleeves of his coat to rest.  “Like me” 

She smiles up at him sweetly, and nods her head again.  Truthfully, Nanami’s abilities nearly surpassed hers back in the day, but she had no problem with letting Megumi believe she was stronger than she was.

“Maybe then I’ll get good at teaching,” She said, eyes flickering down to Satoru, who beamed at the idea.  “Jujutsu Tech always needs more teachers” She shrugs a shoulder at the thought.

But for now, she tables the idea, putting her focus back into entertaining the kids for the day.  As long as they had a good holiday season, full of the spoiling and love they so deserved, she’d be content.

___

On the third day of February, Gojo Satoru shows up at the (y/l/n)-Fushiguro apartment like a madman that evening.  He appears out of thin air in the living room, and his worried state only escalates when he finds the room empty.  It’s late enough that without the lights, the room is dark, but early enough in the evening that there should have been some form of life in the apartment.

He’s quick to scour through the hallways.  He finds Tsumiki asleep in her bed, and carefully closes the door behind him.  When he turns to Megumi’s room, the boy is still awake, happily reading with the clip-on light on the cover of his book- a gift he’d gotten from (y/n) this past holiday.  When the man practically barges into the room, he’s not as alarmed as he should be.  Satoru appearing out of nowhere had become such a regular occurrence that it would be silly if he still flinched at his sudden presence.

“Sorry, kid, shoulda knocked,” Satoru apologizes sheepishly.  “(y/n/n) here? She didn’t go on a mission, did she?” 

It wouldn’t be like her to take on an assignment and leave the kids alone at the apartment.  Then again, it wasn’t like her to ignore his texts and calls all day.  Eight texts, three phone calls, to be exact.

She’d ignored Shoko’s, too.  Hence is panic and instantaneous arrival at her residence.

Megumi shakes his head, tucking his bookmark into the page he’d been on before setting it down.  He climbs out of bed wordlessly, and walks out of the room, leaving Satoru to follow after him.

He’s a little embarrassed when Megumi takes him towards (y/n’s) room, where her door has been left ajar.  He points through the crack, before looking up at Satoru with a small frown.

“She’s been out there all night,” He says softly.

Satoru furrows his brows, before pushing open the door a little more so he could see for himself what Megumi meant.  Sure enough, her bedroom was unlit, and the window on the furthest wall was slid open.  The curtains surrounding it blow gently with the breeze that creeps into the room.  He can just barely make out (y/n) sitting on the small patch of roof just outside of the window.

“Is she okay?” Megumi asks, his voice even smaller.

He’d never seen her the way she’d acted today.  There had been a ghostly pale look on her face this morning, and then again when she’d picked up him and his sister from school.  Most of the afternoon was spent focused on chores, and then preparing dinner.  Any attempts made by him or his sister to get her to open up, or even smile, had failed.  

And then, once dinner was finished and the dishes were done, she’d excused herself to her room.  After two hours, Megumi and Tsumiki had peeked in to see if she was alright, only to find her sitting on the roof outside her window, alone.

Satoru lets out a sigh, his heart sinking as it finally clicks for him why she’d been so dodgy.  He should’ve figured it out sooner, he realizes that now.

“She’ll be alright,” He answers Megumi, pulling the door shut to give her her privacy again, even though she didn’t seem to notice the onlooking presence behind her.  “Come on, you should get to bed” 

Megumi hesitates, wanting to know more, out of worry for his caretaker that worked so hard to make sure he was content and happy every day of his life.  Now she was struggling and he felt helpless.  But he was just a kid, what was he supposed to do?

“You’ll make sure?” He asks.  It was the closest to asking the man for help that he’d ever gotten, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Satoru smiles, patting the kid on the head before pushing him gently back towards his room.

“Course I will,” He says, and it seems genuine, so Megumi complies and begins walking back to his door.  “Sweet dreams ‘gumi” 

“Goodnight” Megumi calls, rather than roll his eyes like he wants to.  Well, at least he waits until he’s in his closed room to do so.

Once he’s out of sight and presumably settling back into bed, Satoru opens the door he’s lingered by and slips into the room quickly.  Even as he climbs out of the window- which was a great struggle because it was a small opening and he was all limbs- (y/n’s) attention remains on the sky.

She has her knees pulled to her chest, and now he’s close enough that he can smell the cigarette held between her fingers.

“Thought you quit” He hums as she crawls awkwardly to where she’s sitting.

(y/n) doesn’t flinch at his presence.  He wonders how long she’d realized he was there.  She doesn’t look at him, either, much to his dismay.  She’s still focused on the stars, as though they’d been in the midst of an important conversation.

“Yeah, well,” Her voice is a murmur as she brings the cig to her lips, taking a short drag.  After filling her lungs she exhales, sighing for longer than she had smoke to disseminate.  “Guess I couldn’t help it today” 

Satoru nods in understanding, his attention catching on a small plate beside her.  The tiniest of smiles quirks on the corner of his lips as he sees a lone cupcake sitting on it.  It looks positively delicious, thick vanilla cake wrapped in a colorful paper, topped with a generous amount of frosting, curled over itself in a perfect mountain, and then covered in rainbow sprinkles.

If this was any other cupcake, on any other day, he’d be pushing her off this roof right now just to steal a bite of it.

But this cupcake wasn’t meant for him.

“I know you’re going to worry,” (y/n’s) speaking again, and his eyes drift away from the ominous treat and back to her, even though she’s still refusing to look at him.  “But you don’t need to.  You can go, if you want…” She trails off for a moment, taking in a shaky breath before finishing her thought.  “If you need to grieve… in your own way” 

Amidst the solemn memories that are flooding his mind of this day in past years, Satoru thinks it’s one of the kindest things she’s ever offered to him.  Pushing him away so that he can process this day however he needs, rather than sit here and comfort her while she processes her way.

And it’s not that it’s easy for him, because it isn’t.  He’d woken up today knowing exactly what day it was.  And not just Friday.  Today the weight of the world felt heavier on his shoulders than usual.  His coffee, pumped full of cream and sugar, tasted bitter.  The sun seemed to disappear behind a patch of clouds every time he stepped outside.  The day dragged and dragged, and given the fact that (y/n) had ghosted him for the day hadn’t helped.

But he couldn’t exactly blame her.  Because even he was a reminder to her.  A reminder that their group of three had once been four.  That when he’d met her all those years ago, he’d come as a matching set.  His heart sank for her, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease her mind of pleasant memories now covered in a haze of darkness.  

Guilt.  Regret.  Longing.  

“No, sweetheart,” He murmurs to her, sliding himself over the shingles to be closer to her.  Her hair is down, and it covers her side profile, so it’s still hard for him to see her, but for once he’s patient.  “No, ‘m not goin’ anywhere” 

It’s quiet for quite some time.  (y/n) continues puffing on the cigarette until the taste turns sour in her mouth, and then she’s stumping it out on the shingles, only half smoked.  Satoru hopes this means she really has quit the nasty habit, and tonight wasn’t a backslide on an old addiction, but instead a small escape towards nostalgia.  While she fiddles with the dead cig in her fingers, he notes it was the brand that Shoko always picked up.  The very brand that back in high school, she’d made smoke buddies out of (y/n), and Suguru too, smoking those exact cigarettes.

“D’you think he’s celebrating?” 

Her voice catches in her throat, but she swallows the lump as soon as she voices her question.

No, Satoru thinks.

“Maybe,” He hums in response.  “Probably not as hard as you did” He adds, trying to lighten the mood with the memory of her own twentieth birthday.  (y/n) lets out a small sound that was meant to be a hum, but it sounds choked, like someone has a hand around her throat, strangling her pipes until she had no more voice left.

She stares at the cigarette in her fingers, her eyes hard, desperate to stay dry, but this leaves them without emotion.

“I didn’t think today would be this hard,” She admits.  “I thought I…” 

Satoru watches her carefully, his eyes darting from her hidden face to the cigarette that was trembling in her delicate hold.  As if the day alone wasn’t hard enough, his heart breaks over her further.  Being the strongest didn’t mean shit at this moment.  There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to ease this pain for her, but fuck, if he could take it all away, and carry it for her himself, he would.  

“I thought I’d already cried as much as I could over him,” Her words wobble, thanks to her burning throat and quivering lips.  “But I… I just…” 

She shakes her head, a humorless laugh escaping her throat in one harsh sob.  It sounds exactly how she feels.  Angry, forlorn, exasperated.

“Satoru,” 

She turns to him, finally.  The stumpy little cigarette falls from her shaking hands as she moves quickly.  As if his heart wasn’t hurting enough, now he sees the tears streaming down her face.

How long had she been out here crying? He worries.  How long had she been carrying this alone?

Before she can continue he’s surging forward.  Both hands raising to her face in order to make quick work at drying her tears.  It’s no use, they won’t stop flooding and he knows it too, but still, he wipes them away with diligent, loving thumbs.

“I can’t bear this,” She mumbles, watery eyes flickering between his.  

It’s a damn vulnerable thing to admit, and maybe tomorrow she’ll regret this moment of fragile exposure, but right now all she feels is a weight on her chest, pressing harder and harder until it’s left a gaping wound, and she’s so desperate for relief from this pain that she brings her walls down.  Even if it means she takes them down completely.

“It hurts too much,” She continues in a strained whimper.  “I don’t want to miss him anymore, I don’t want to think about him anymore,” 

Satoru’s brows fall to furrow together as she makes her pained confession, and if it wasn’t for the way she spoke, he could see it on her.  In the way her body shook as she cried, her hurt seeped out of every orifice, until she was made nearly unrecognizable.

Since Geto Suguru’s defection, she’d done a bang up job keeping her feelings on the matter to herself.  Minus the day he left them, she’d barely even spoken a word about it, and in fact, she hadn’t talked about him at all.  Until this very moment.  It appeared that she’d kept it packed up so deep inside that today was the last straw, the final blow to her unprocessed grief.  Denial was a wonderful thing, but it could only do the trick for so long.

Satoru cradles her face with the gentleness of feathers on her skin.  He doesn’t say a word, there’s not enough words in the world to bring an ounce of comfort to her now.  Nothing could fix the situation, believe him, he’s tried to find the miracle cure.  But this disease that was their shared trauma, their haunted past, was terminal.

So instead he sits quietly with her.  He brushes away her tears with the pads of his thumbs, over and over again, and he’s bound to this very spot to continue to do so until it’s enough.  Until he’s enough to carry all of her sorrow, all of her strife, and anything else.

Satoru’s throat begins to burn the longer he watches her fall apart at the seams before him.  This wasn’t the first time he’s seen her at her lowest, he’d been there once or twice before to try to pick up her pieces, and hold her gently together until she feels whole again.  But it doesn’t matter if he’d done this a thousand times before, it always feels unfamiliar, and it always wounds him.

He tries his hardest to push down the feeling, to be present as the strength that she needs of him.  But tonight is different than the other times he’s calmed and comforted her.

A shaky exhale escapes him, and the movements of his thumbs on her cheeks grow rushed, and erratic.

“Oh sweetheart,” Satoru means to speak in a murmur, but his voice wavers as much as his breath.  It’s littered with an emotion that makes (y/n’s) stomach churn and knot.  “You know I hate seeing you cry” 

His eyes follow the constant flow of tears as he prods carefully to wipe them away.  His heart weighs heavy in his chest, sinking all the way to his stomach.

Slowly, (y/n) inches forward, her eyes flickering between his for a moment, before her hands rest on his shoulders and she leans in to embrace him.  It’s stiff at first, as if they were unfamiliar with hugging one another.  But she sinks into him after adjusting, and wraps her arms around his neck completely while holding on tight.

His own arms encircle her waist, before resting cheek atop her head.

“I wish I could just hate him,” She mumbles into his shoulder, the fabric of his tee shirt growing wet with her tears pooling into it.  “It would make it easier” 

Satoru nods.  One of his hands pressed flat against her back as he started to move it in soothing circles.

They sit quietly for a few minutes, until her crying has calmed enough that she’s not shaking anymore, and his eyes have fallen shut with fatigue whilst he’s holding her close and rubbing her back.

“D’you want to go inside?” Satoru hums, tilting his head to press her lips into her hair.  “Get some rest?” 

She doesn’t answer him right away.  Not in words, at least.  Her arms tighten around him in the slightest, tensing up as she makes sure her hold on him is firm.

“No,” She whispers, followed by another squeeze, and this time he feels the pads of her fingertips pressing into the material of his shirt, against his skin.  “I want to stay here a little longer,” She admits while she pushes her face into the crook of his neck.  “If that’s okay?” She asks in a smaller voice.

“Of course that’s okay,” Satoru agrees, his free hand reaching up to cup the back of her head.  He gently pets her hair as she settles back into him again.  Best case scenario, she’ll fall asleep, and he can tuck her into bed and hope that the rest brings her more comfort than he’s capable of.  “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” His lips graze over her head as he murmurs, “Just let me know.  I’ll do whatever you need.  I’ll get you whatever you need.  Just tell me” 

Again, her hold stiffens on him, and she’s got him so snug in her arms now that breaking away would prove to be difficult.  Strongest be damned.  No hold on Gojo Satoru has ever been more binding.

And then she’s pulling away.  Her arms loosen and slide away, only for her hands to find purchase at his forearms, tethering herself to him with a gentle grip.  Even still, this has him locked to her, chained, bound.  

He lifts his head to look at her properly, meeting her wide, panicked eyes.  There’s a few tears left, clinging where they could.  They hide in plain sight at the corners of her eyes and on her cheeks.  Satoru has the thought to clear them away, but her hands begin to shake as she clings to his arms, and he doesn’t have the heart to pull himself from her grip.

No hold on Gojo Satoru has ever been more binding.

“Then I need you to promise me something,” She speaks with urgency, although he could already see the fright in her eyes.  He doesn’t get a chance to nod in agreement before she’s speaking again.  “You can’t ever go” 

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the request.  He’s quick to reassure her with a small chuckle, not out of humor, but from the irony that she feels the need to ask such a thing.

“Of course I won’t-” 

“I’m serious,” She speaks over him, eyes unblinking as she moves her hands to clutch onto his shoulders.  Her hold is softer now, but it carries the same weight.  “Please, promise me,” She whispers.  “Promise you won’t go anywhere,” 

She sucks in a breath as she fights more tears from pooling in her eyes.

“Promise me I won’t ever lose you, too,” 

Satoru’s brows pinch together as he nods back at her in a small motion.  With his arms free, he cups her face in his hands again, tilting her head forward so he could seal his promise with his lips pressed against the crown of her head.

He lingers there for a second, before kissing her in the middle of her forehead once more and leaning away so he could look at her.

“I just can’t-” She tries to speak but her tears are choking her up again.  “I can’t lose you, okay?”

He’s nodding at her, his expression gravely serious as he agrees to her terms.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Satoru tucks a loose strand of hair carefully behind her ear before continuing.  “You’ll never lose me,” He gives her a sweet, comforting smile before he’s cupping her face again, fingers splayed across her cheeks, catching the last of her tears and drying them off.  “I need ya too much, yaknow?” 

A faint smile quirks at the corners of her lips, her eyes filling with relief, and something bashful.  He can feel it in the warmth of her face.

Softly, she murmurs, “I need you, too,” 

It’s a difficult thing to say out loud, there’s more weight to those words than she thought there would be, but it’s the truth, and she needs him to know it.  She needs him to know that while there’s still things she can’t bring herself to admit, at the end of the day he had her complete trust.  And right now, that seems more important.

“I…” Her voice gets caught in her throat, but this time it’s not because of the burn of tears.  She swallows hard anyways, and musters up the courage to continue.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, ‘toru” 

His smile grows warm and syrupy.  It might not have been the confession he was holding out for, but it still made something fluttery and ticklish dance around his inside.  His heart swells.  His eyelashes grow heavy.

“Miss me, hopefully” He murmurs, gently pinching her cheek between his thumb and index finger, then smoothing over the skin with the pad of his thumb.

Her mood is significantly lifted by his familiar and affectionate teasing.  Her pain still lurks around the corner, but right now her back is turned, and all she can see are his bright eyes and tender smile.  All she knows is that his hands are warm against her face, and it turns her to putty having him this close.

Her head tilts to the side, cheek pressing further into the comforting warmth of his hand.  He regards her with a fondness so intense it almost makes her nervous.  Sometimes she had to re-learn how to get used to this look.

“Then…” Her voice is merely a breath.  “Stay” 

He’s smiling again, even though he knows she’s not asking him to spend the night in the spare room- which he’d already done five days out of this week without being invited, he didn’t need an invitation to crash there, he just did- but asking him to stay here, with her.  He shouldn’t be smiling, he shouldn’t feel that skip in his heart beat as he preens with pride and adoration.  Because the last time he’d stayed with her, it had been too hard.

It was too domestic.  Too intimate.  And all too difficult to pretend that it was normal, or casual.  The feelings that she plants in him blossom like uncontrollable wildflowers, and Satoru had realized he was far too weak to ever put himself through it again.  He cared about her too deeply to jeopardize it all over a shared bed.  Maybe it was childish of him, but he’d sworn he wouldn’t do it again.  When she’d made it so clear where they stood with one another, it wasn’t fair to her to gaze at her long after she'd fallen asleep in his arms and ache for more.

But Satoru is a fool.

He’s carefully helping her back through the window while she holds the cupcake in one hand and his in the other.  Before he heads to the spare room- where he has left quite a few drawers worth of extra clothes- he gives her hand a squeeze.  A silent promise that he’ll be quick.  She leaves the cupcake on her bedside table while she sits at the edge of her mattress and waits.  He is very quick, back in her room after barely two minutes have gone by.  When he closes the door, he does so as silently as possible.  When he sits beside her, his movements are slow, almost calculated with how carefully he moves.

“We should eat this cupcake,” She tells him, her eyes focused on the treat with an unreadable emotion behind them.  “It would be a shame… if it went to waste” 

He lets out a chuckle, which has her attention shifting to him.

“I couldn’t agree more” He says with a wide grin.

Her brow furrows.

“Were you just waiting for me to-” 

“Yes, yeah I was, hand it over”

He’s already reaching across her to snatch the plate off of the table.  There’s a plastic knife residing beside the cupcake, and after carefully peeling off the paper wrapper, Satoru cuts the cake down the middle as evenly as he could.  (y/n) almost laughs at his eagerness to eat the treat.  She supposes she could have let him have the whole thing if he was so eager for it, but he’s already handing her a half, and it does look delicious.

When she’d wandered into the bakery earlier that afternoon, before the Fushiguro kids were out of school, she hadn’t really planned on picking out a dessert to celebrate the birthday of someone she was trying to forget.  She wasn’t really sure what had wound her up in there, she hadn’t held a particular craving for any of the sugary sweets on display.  Then she’d seen that cupcake in the glass case, and as soon as her eyes had landed on it, she found herself getting in line to order it.  All the while telling herself this was silly, that he didn’t even have a sweet tooth, and this wasn’t at all what she would have gotten to celebrate his day had he been here.

But he wasn’t here.  And (y/n) was taking the small box home to sit on her counter where it could taunt her for the rest of the day, until she;d given in and plated the damn thing.

Now she stares at her half of it, held carefully in her fingertips.  The frosting felt heavy atop the small piece of cake, and she’s reminded that she actually doesn’t really care for cupcakes.  They were awkward, especially ones like these, where it was impossible to take a bite without getting cream smeared on your face.

She really shouldn’t have bought this.

“Well, that was the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten” 

Satoru snaps her out of her thoughts, her head snapping towards him in a jerky movement, as if she’d forgotten he was sitting beside her.  He’s got the pad of his middle finger between pursed lips, happily sucking off the last of the sugary sweetness.  He grins at her surprise.  (y/n) looks back at her own piece, and finally, carefully takes a bite.

It’s all vanilla and sugar.  From the cake to the frosting and sprinkles, the tiny dessert is packed with sweetness.  Even after one bite she’s certain that half of the cupcake was plenty, and she never would have eaten the whole thing on her own.  Although she’s sure Satoru would have finished the whole thing without a complaint.

Just as she’d thought, when she finishes her piece, she can feel the remnants of frosting clinging to her lip.  With a crinkled nose she wipes at it with her thumb, before turning to Satoru.

“Did I get it all?” She asks.  He chuckles as he shakes his head, amused by the smear of white over her cupid’s bow.  However before she can blindly rub it away some more, he’s leaning forward.  His fingers hook under her chin while his thumb craftily swipes over her upper lip, making sure to get the last of the offending frosting.

It’s not much, and really had she rubbed her mouth again she would have easily cleared away the rest of it, but he couldn’t resist, and he was acting without thinking.

“There ya go” He hums, his voice quieter than he meant it to be, before he’s sticking his thumb in his mouth to enjoy the last of her vanilla frosting as well.

(y/n) blinks, her eyes wide but the rest of her expression blank.  She figures she should thank him, maybe even make a joke to play off the strangely intimate act that has her heart doing somersaults in her chest, but she can’t bring herself to say anything.

Without a word, she stands from the bed, placing the plate with the wrapper and plasticware back on her nightstand.  Satoru takes his time getting settled under her covers, against her pillows.  When she climbs in after him, she’s still quiet.  She tucks the blanket up close to her chin, and then glances up to him, finding his eyes already on her.

They’re not touching, but he’s close enough that she can feel his heat under the shared blankets.  He’s close enough that she’s glad it’s dark in the room, because her face feels warm with the familiar sensation of a blush.

Four years of knowing him, and his close proximity still garnered the same reaction out of her.  She wondered if he knew she was blushing anyways, if his Six Eyes were always able to see right through her.

“Can I ask you something?” She murmurs, although her eyes are feeling too heavy to start a conversation right now.

He gives her a small smirk and a raised brow, intrigued by the age old anxiety-inducing question.

“Shoot” He muses back.

“How do you do it?” (y/n’s) hand slides under her pillow, raising her head just enough to get a proper look at him.  He looks puzzled, like he doesn’t understand the question, so she clarifies.  “You know, have the answer for everything,” She says.  “I feel like I… I feel like I bombard you with problem after problem and you just…” 

She trails off, and if she was being honest it’s because she’s getting lost in his eyes and forgetting momentarily what she was even talking about.  There were times when she looked at him that while he looked back, she got the overwhelming sense of his complete attention.  And sometimes, it made her heart stutter.  Occasionally her voice would deceive her, too.  She wants to move in closer, until she’s so impossibly too close, but she snaps back to reality just as her mind had started to drift off.

“You just always know what to do.  Or say” She finishes her thought in a hushed whisper.  Maybe it was her train of thought turning hazy from the adoration seeping in, but she suddenly feels like it was a confidential thing to say, too full of emotion to put out in the open so brazenly.

Satoru chuckles, and it relieves some of the tension that’s curling up in her chest.

“It’s cute that you think that,” He replies.  “That’s just what we do, though, isn’t it?” 

Now it’s her turn to furrow her eyebrows, not understanding what he’s trying to say.

Satoru gives her a small shrug.

“We look out for each other,” He states.  “Right?” 

“I ‘spose” (y/n) mumbles back, feeling severely gutted by the realization that he looked out for her more than she did for him.  How do you have the back of someone who’s already the strongest in the world? How could she possibly be as good to him as he was to her? 

It dawns on her then that she can’t, that she could never be a semblance of a person he deserved to have in his life.  Not just due to his strength and status, but because of who Gojo Satoru was as a human.  He was far too good, too kind and caring and patient for the likes of her to be involved with him.  She was messy, at times reckless, and most of all she lived too much in her own head.  Overthinking every situation, and every word, most days it felt like it took her ages just to find the right way to respond, to find the right words, make the right face.

Like right now.

“You don’t think so?” Satoru asks, readjusting his pillow so he too could get a better look at her.  Her lips twitch into an awkward smile, nervous that he was able to read her so easily.  “What’re you thinkin’ about?”

But how was she supposed to tell him? While she lays here and feels regret and guilt flood through her bloodstream like poison, how does she explain to him that she finally understood why she’d pushed him away all those months ago when he’d tried to make something more of the two of them? Just the thought has her skin crawling with goosebumps, and her heart thumping hard in her chest with adrenaline.

“C’mon, tell me” He prods again, this time giving her a smile, too curious to know what was knotting up her pretty features with an upset expression.  Something clearly bothered her about his statement- or at least, it was clear to him.

Her mouth opens, but even still she struggles to find the right thing to say.  No set of words in her language seemed like a good enough explanation.  Or maybe she just didn’t want to admit what had been on her mind.  Because admitting it would prove to him that it had been on her mind.

“I…” Her throat feels dry.  The fingers under her pillow curl into the sheets tightly.  “I don’t think it’s fair of me to ask you to stay,” She confesses in a small voice.  Satoru’s face falls.  “I don’t think it’s fair of me to make you promise,” 

He lifts his head from the pillow, bracing himself up on his arm as he looks down at her with an expression that was somewhere between concern and peculiarity.

Holding onto her last scrap of courage, (y/n) continues.

“You’re destined for such magnificent things,” She murmurs, a ghost of a smile on her face.  “And you’re the strongest but- but it’s not just because of that.  You were always going to be destined for great things, because… because you’re you,” 

She pauses, taking in a small breath and fighting the urge to look away from him, to spare herself from the eyes that were piercing into hers with ardent focus.

“And I… I’m just…” Her lip gets dragged between her teeth as she shakes her head in a slow movement.  “You were born deserving so, so much more than…” In a lazy gesture, her free hand waves above her, fingers twitching in small motions.  She doesn’t say me, but he knows it’s what she’s trying to convey.

“Don’t say that” He mumbles, offended that she could even think such an untrue, vulgar thing about herself, about the person he cares so much more about than she gave him credit for.

“It’s true,” She says back.  “You could be doing so much more amazing things with your life, you could have anything in the world if you wanted it, but instead you’re- you’re here,” Her voice grows smaller as she speaks, the dread of what she needed to say next weighing heavy on her tongue.  “And I… I know I shouldn’t be making you promise to stay.  I should be making you go,” 

She swallows hard, trying to get the lump in her throat to smooth away, but it lingers there, and makes her breath hitch as she closes her eyes before continuing.

“But I just can’t bring myself to do it” 

She can’t see him, but Satoru’s shaking his head at her, refusing to accept any of the nonsense she’s telling him right now.

“Then don’t,” He says, his words rushed, desperate to make himself clear before actually thinking through what the right thing to say was.  “You don’t have to.  I don’t want you to,” 

She’s refusing to look at him, so with his free hand, he cups her face, and he waits until she does.  Her eyes are glossy, but she’s fighting the need to cry again.

“You understand me, sweetheart?” He murmurs, his voice softening as he gazes down at her.  The snow-white tips of his hair almost touch her forehead with how close he’s leaning.  “I don’t want to go anywhere, I don’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, even right now, okay?” 

She presses her lips together in an attempt to hide her wince.

“Tell me you understand,” He whispers, eyes flickering between hers.  “I need to know that you understand” 

A small sniffle, and then a nod.

“I understand,” Her voice cracks even in her whisper.  “I just-” 

“No more of that,” He murmurs, his gentle thumb tracing her cheekbone in slow, lazy movements.  “No more of that, I can’t stand it.  You can’t push me away.  Not again.  Not ever again” He’s shaking his head to punctuate every word.

A single tear drips from her eye as she blinks, and he’s quick to wipe it away, just as he had earlier, desperate to make all of her tears disappear in any way he can, anyway she needs.

This wasn’t the first time she’d done this, but it gutted him all the same, recalling the last time she’d tried to force him away.  She’d nearly gone and gotten herself killed by the hands of the Zen’in Clan.  And before that was their fight, in the halls of Jujutsu Tech, when she’d told him that she didn’t need him.  He nearly shudders at the memory.  Of course he knew now that she hadn’t meant it, that it was her desperate attempt to keep him from prying into her life where she’d thought he was going to wind up hurt.

Now it was different.  Now it was real.  It was raw ache and fear before him.

“I promised you I’m not going anywhere,” He tells her.  His eyes trailing down to her lips on their own accord.  “I need you to promise me the same,” 

There’s a pause as his words hang between them, and then she gives him a shaky nod.  Her wide eyes don’t leave his, they remain searching, needing to be sure that he means it.  There’s not a bone in her body that tells her otherwise, but she’s so terrified of the fear of losing him that she just needs to be absolutely sure.

“I’m the one being unfair,” Satoru murmurs, his eyes following the movement of his thumb over her cheek.  “I know that, I know that you don’t want more and I overstep anyways because… because I can’t help it” 

There’s a shift in the mood, she can feel it, how it lightens the pressure on her chest before slamming it right back down.

He leans closer, and her breath hitches in her throat at the prospect of him closing every last inch of distance between them.  She should stop him, she should put her hands on his shoulders and push him away until he’s at a safe distance from her again.  But she doesn’t.

She pulls her hand out from under her pillow, and it blindly slides over the sheets until it finds his.  Her movements are slow, almost frightfully so as her fingers slot between his.  She tries to calm her breathing but it’s hard to focus on it and him so she settles for keeping her focus on him.

With her fingers fully tangled with his he squeezes her hand, maybe tighter than he should have, but having her so close is intoxicating, and he just wants to savor it for as long as he can.

(y/n) takes in a deep breath.

“I never said I didn’t want more,” She whispers, peering up at him from beneath heavy lashes.

His heart is beating so quickly he’s certain she can hear it.  It pounds heavily in his ears, almost louder than her hushed whispers.  Was he understanding her right? 

“I was just… afraid” She admits it softly.

Satoru furrows his brow, but his lips curl into a smirk that had her regretting saying anything because she knows he’s about to tease her now.

“Afraid?” He repeats with a small laugh.  “You think I’d ever do anything to hurt you?” 

He’s teasing, but the thought makes him want to throw up.

“Course not,” She shakes her head, before gently pressing her face further into the warmth of his hand.  She hopes it’s an unnoticed movement, but from the way he also applies more pressure in his touch, she thinks otherwise.  “More like I’m afraid of hurting you” 

Satoru laughs louder this time, his face splitting into a delighted smile.  He’s completely amused by the idea, and (y/n) frowns at him.

“You can’t hurt me sweetheart,” He practically purrs, and then he’s leaning closer.  His chest hovers over her close enough that she feels almost caged in by him.  He’s close enough now that the tip of his nose nearly bumps into hers.  “I’m completely untouchable” 

She squeezes his hand with an affectionate roll of her eyes.

“I think you have to actually activate infinity if you want it to work” She murmurs.

It’s quiet again, the two of them smiling at each other fondly, foolishly, both taken away by a deep infatuation that had been repressed for far too long.  It seeps out of them now like an overflow, pouring out in the cracks that were their adoring eyes.

Her free hand reaches up towards his face, fingertips ghosting over the soft ends of his hair that hangs down over her eyes.  She combs her fingers through the silky strands of white before trailing downwards, her touch light and gentle as she traces his forehead, followed by his nose, then cheekbone, down towards his jaw.  Her sleepy gaze observes every drag of her fingers, as though committing it all to memory.

Satoru’s frozen above her, allowing her to explore every inch of his face if she so pleased.  It was a face she’d known for years, but she touches him now like she’s only recently been bestowed the gift of sight.  He’s not sure the last time he’s been touched so gently.  There’s a distant memory of his mother’s hand caressing his cheek, but even in a fond memory the touch is fleeting.

Being touched like this- softly, sweetly, carefully, lovingly- by her, it’s as though she has all the time in the world.

Her fingers fall still over his chin as her eyes flit back up to his.

They meet for a brief moment before his eyes are falling shut and he’s closing the space between them.  As soon as his lips touch hers she’s sliding her hand under his jaw, keeping him perfectly in place as she kisses him back.

His mouth is warm, and still sweet from the cupcake they’d shared, which seems like forever ago.  In fact everything seems to fade away.  The only thing she can feel is his soft lips, his soft hand splayed over her cheek, the soft swipe of his thumb over hers where their hands are still interlocked.

The kiss is experimentally slow at first.  They’re both holding their breath, each half expecting the other to pull away prematurely with remorseful eyes.  Neither do.

They part for a second, only because oxygen becomes a necessity once more.  Satoru smiles down at her when he sees her eyes are still shut, and he can’t help but to lean in and plant one more quick kiss on her lips.  He’s waited this long to get his chance, he might as well steal as many as he could get.

As he lays back on his side of the bed, he moves his hand from her cheek to her waist, gently coaxing her to lay closer, until she’s curled up into his side, one of her legs thrown between his, her head resting in the soft place below his collarbone.  Their conjoined hands rest over his stomach.  He’s still stroking his thumb over hers.  She’s drawn to sleep by nothing but comfort.

“G’night, ‘toru” Her words are mumbled, and a little slurred.

He plants his lips at the crown of her head sweetly.  She drifts to sleep with a faint smile.

“Goodnight, sweetheart” 

___

The next morning she’s lured out of sleep by the smell of bacon.

It smells like a lot of other delicious things, too, but the bacon is what has her peeking open an eye to check the time.  Sure enough, her bed is empty, and it’s mid-morning.

This time when she slips out of the covers to go check out the buffet of breakfast foods Satoru had been whipping up- effectively making an absolute mess of her kitchen- she’s not hungover.  Her head isn’t killing her with such a brutal headache that she couldn’t open her eyes.  As she walks quietly into the kitchen, she’s able to watch as Tsumiki pours pancake batter out of a ladle, carefully making shapes on the griddle.  She leans into the fridge while she watches Satoru talk through his bacon frying process while Megumi sits on his shoulders, leaned over the top of his head, and apparently actually listening to him.

Tsumiki flips a pancake with perfect precision and they all cheer.  Satoru reminds her to add chocolate chips to the bowl of pancake batter once she’s made enough for herself, Megumi, and (y/n).  Because I refuse to eat pancakes without them, he reminds her, even though she doesn’t need it.  He’s spent enough breakfasts with them now for the kids to realize how debilitating his sweet tooth was.

It’s Megumi who first notices (y/n’s) secretly joined them.  With a boyish grin he tugs at Satoru’s hair, who cries out and almost stumbles at the sudden and sharp pain.

The pain is eased when he sees what Megumi was trying to catch his attention for.  (y/n’s) trying to stifle her laughter from behind her hand, but she’s failing.

“Awe, the surprise is ruined now” Satoru frowns.

She drops her hand and shakes her head as she wanders further into the kitchen to see what else this mess had created.  Megumi reaches towards her in a silent ask to be let off of Satoru’s shoulders.  She lifts him up with ease and sets him on the ground.

“It’s not ruined at all,” She says with a smile.  “But if you want to do it all again tomorrow, I’ll pretend I didn’t know” She adds in a tease.

“Yeah! Can we?” Tsumiki asks excitedly.  “I want to make omelets!” 

“No! French toast!” Megumi declares.

The pair break into a fit of bickering, which is quickly silenced by Satoru.

“Hey! You two are ruining this perfect morning!” He barks.  “Stop fighting and we can have both!” 

He doesn’t know how to make omelets, hell, he struggled with the bacon, so he’s hoping he can find a youtube tutorial decent enough to teach a helpless cook like him how to make some.  But his promise does the trick and Megumi and Tsumiki work together to make more pancakes.

“Do you even know how-?” (y/n) begins to question his ability as she eyes the crispy bacon in the pan he’s no longer paying attention to because she’s there now and she somehow looks so pretty first thing in the morning.  Her hair a complete mess, and donning a fluffy robe with bunnies all over it, he thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.

“Sh sh sh,” He hushes with a shake of his head, his hand wrapping around her hip as he pulls her into his side before finally looking back at the bacon.  “Oh, shit” He mutters as he darts to turn off the stove while (y/n) picks up the tongs and plucks the strips off the pan before they start to completely burn.

“Yeah, maybe tomorrow I cook,” She muses, nose wrinkling at the overcooked bacon.  But when she looks up at him again, she smiles happily.  “You and Megumi will be on french toast duty,” She says decidedly.  “I’ll teach Tsumiki how to make omelets” 

His lips curl into a smirk at the simple instruction.

“Little Hex, are you inviting me to stay the night?” 

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, sticking his tongue out at the obvious flirt.

Tsumiki’s giggling, and starts to make a heart shaped pancake on the griddle, complete with Satoru’s chocolate chips.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are undeniably warm, pink blossoming across her face.

“Only if Megumi says it’s okay” She replies, tilting her chin up at him teasingly.

Satoru turns the other way to look down at the kid that had a sinister smile on his face.  Jeez, sometimes this kid creeped him out.  How come (y/n’s) golden boy had to be such a goddamn menace?

Apparently she just had a soft spot for menaces.

Satoru meets Megumi’s ruthless stare with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll give you three hundred dollars”

“Satoru!” (y/n) picks up a kitchen towel off the counter to smack his arm with it.  “No bribing the kids!” 

“Fine,” He grumbles, catching the soft weapon mid swing before she could hit him again.  Then he peeks back towards Megumi, and in a slightly quieter voice says, “Four hundred?” 

(y/n) gasps at his blatant disregard for her rules, but before she can scold him again, Megumi gives a firm nod of agreement, and looks over to her.

“He can stay,” He says decidedly, but mutters to himself as he goes back to helping his sister with the pancakes.  “He stays over every other freakin’ night anyways” 

Tsumiki’s giggling as she whispers her own little rumors, much to the boy’s dismay, but he listens anyway.

“I think he’s warmin’ up to me” Satoru grins at (y/n).  She presses her lips together so as not to laugh too hard at the statement.

“You’ve done right by them,” She tells him, something that he’d told her not too long ago.  From the way his grin turns into a soft smile, she has a feeling he remembers.  “And besides, everyone warms up to you eventually” 

“You think you ever will?” He asks, only teasing.

She shrugs a shoulder, humming as though thinking it over.

“Maybe,” She muses, plucking a chocolate chip from the open bag on the counter.  He furrows his brow at the sudden playfulness rather than a real answer.  “We’ll see” 

[ this is a place where i don’t feel alone / this is a place where i feel at home ]

___

a/n: i just want to gush about how much i loved writing this series, and sharing it with you all. it has been my absolute passion project. sorry the slow burn was so slow but i tried to keep it as realistic to the events of the manga and just how things would play out irl. i have a couple other spin-off fics related to this series in the works so i suppose it's not over yet- i just needed more fluff related to these characters that have brought me such comfort and entertainment!! thank you all for your continued support and love for this series (and my other fics too!) having this be so well received warms my heart <3 xoxo ~ jordie

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[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Lots of violence against wood. Reader is a messed up assassin and is proud of her work. So much childhood trauma just hanging out in the background. Reader dresses up like a lumberjack.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the love you showed for the first chapter of this fic! All the likes, reblogs, and comments helped keep my muse alive as I wrote the second chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you want to be added to the tag list then let me know, and I'll add you when I post chapter three. Enjoy!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff

Chapter Two: Flower In A Hailstorm

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992 

Your black backpack bounced lightly against your back as you followed a couple paces behind your brother and sister. The morning was bright and warm. The neighborhood was a quiet bustle of activity. Garages opening. Cars pulling out of driveways to begin another commute to work. Other kids trickled out of quiet homes on their way to school. 

When you had walked two blocks, your brother swung his navy blue backpack around until it hung off his shoulder in front of him. He unzipped his bag and looked at your older sister. His hand disappeared into his bag. 

“Do you think Sadie will go to the Homecoming dance with me?” he asked your sister.

Your sister shrugged. “Depends. Is she desperate?” 

“Ha ha. Very funny,” your brother said as your sister smirked. He pulled out a shiny, wrapped foil of pop tarts. “I’m serious. Do you know if anyone else has asked her?” He opened the foil and pulled out one pop tart. He turned and handed it out towards you. You smiled and hurried to catch up to them. You took the pop tart and immediately bit into it. The sweet taste of blueberry jam and hard surgery icing filled your mouth. 

Your brother pulled the second pop tart out of the foil, broke it in half, and handed one piece to your sister. 

She took her half. “How would I know?” She took a bite of her piece of pop tart. 

“Because you’re in the same History class,” your brother replied.

“That doesn’t mean I talk to her,” your sister said before taking another bite. 

You ate your blueberry pop tart while listening to your siblings talk about Sadie and the Homecoming dance. You didn’t chime in with any advice. You didn’t know who Sadie was. Most likely a girl in high school like your siblings. But it was fun to listen to them discuss the likelihood of your brother getting a date with this girl. By the time you reached your school, your sister had settled on the theory that Sadie would most likely agree to the date if every other boy in the school dropped dead. 

Your siblings wished you a successful day before you parted ways. You walked your usual route into your school and through the busy hallways. Clusters of students clung to the long, noisy hallways. Their stares were all too familiar. Strange looks. Hushed questions that weren’t so quiet that you couldn’t overhear. No kid dared to leave their pack of friends to go near you. Despite the plain, ordinary clothes you wore, you also wore the stories of your father. 

He was the random, misplaced red thread in a blanket of black. He stood opposed to the currents of the town. His beliefs were rooted securely in what many brushed aside as fantasies. He kept himself fairly busy within the confines of your home, but whenever fate drew him into the public an odd story would follow. One neighbor once saw your father out in a field, attempting to contact aliens. Another found him in their yard digging a hole to a secret bunker. There were countless stories, and they followed you wherever you went. You were his, and so, you must be strange too. It didn’t help that you rarely ever acted like the other kids. It was not intentional. If you could understand how to act like them, you would. But you didn’t. So every day you spent in this school, you spent it alone. Surrounded by strangers. Constantly feeling their judgmental stares digging into your back. Hearing the whispered rumors about you and your family. 

When you reached your classroom, you went over to your desk at the far back side of the room. Your desk was positioned an extra foot off to the left as if the group of desks had just decided to push yours just a bit further away. You put away your belongings into your desk, hung your backpack on the back of your chair, sat down, and waited for the school day to begin. 

You had your notebook open and you practiced your handwriting as the other students all filed in. Your whole family was in agreement that your handwriting was truly horrible. You needed to fix that, but you frowned at your latest attempts. All barely legible. Your disappointment lingered as the teacher called for the class’s attention. When you lifted your head up, every ounce of disappointment and every thought regarding your terrible handwriting vanished at the sight of her. 

The girl with the blue hair. 

“Class,” your teacher began. “This is Nat. She just moved here and will be joining our class. Let’s give her a warm welcome.” 

As the rest of the class released a chorus of hellos, you sat silently, transfixed. The first, loudest thought in your mind was a simple question: how did she have blue hair? It was so cool. It reminded you of one of the characters out of your sister’s books. The ones she would tell you about right before bed. The second thought was that she was pretty. You couldn’t come up with a good comparison or truly unravel that thought completely. You just knew when you looked at her that she was really pretty. You liked that. 

The teacher gestured to the empty desk closest to yours. Quietly, she crossed the length of the room and sat down at the empty desk. You watched as she pulled a notebook from her backpack before setting her bag down. Then, she looked over towards you. You felt your whole body tense up under her gaze. You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to blurt out the loudest thought in your head, but your mouth stayed shut tight. 

“Hi.” Her greeting was soft and quiet. 

You blinked and your mouth opened. “Hi.” When you felt the first sting of awkward tension, you looked away and back down at your notebook. 

The morning creeped by rather uneventfully. Every so often you would look over at Nat who would be busy writing down notes like the rest of the class. You wondered if she recognized you from the other day. Whenever your attention was on your bad note taking, it would often break off and wonder about how to start a normal conversation with Nat. You had never been in such a weird position before. Wanting a connection instead of accepting the natural recoil. You hadn’t come up with any solid strategies by the time the lunch bell rang. 

You pulled your brown bagged lunch from your backpack and followed your class down to the cafeteria. You lost sight of Nat during the shuffling of students, so you took your seat at your usual spot at the end of one of the long, blue-gray cafeteria tables. You opened up your brown bag and pulled out your aluminum foil wrapped sandwich. It was the only thing your father had packed for you. You unwrapped the foil. Your brow furrowed when you didn’t see any meat, or cheese, or anything poking out from between the twin slices of white bread. In fact, there was nothing at all between the slices. Just two slices of bread sitting one on top of the other. 

You heard hushed giggles coming from further down the table. You looked over just as a few of your laughing classmates quickly looked away. Usually, this didn’t bother you. You were used to this. But you couldn’t deny the hurt starting to creep in. You wanted to say something. Do something. Anything to let out–

Someone sat down next to you. Whatever had started to build inside you washed away at the sight of her again. She started to open up her own bag, but stopped when she noticed the two slices of bread posing as a sandwich. 

Her green eyes shifted to you. “Is that your lunch?”

“Uh,” was the first word out of your mouth before you looked down at the bread slices and then back up to Nat. “Yes. It’s my sandwich.” 

“Where’s all the stuff in between?” she asked. 

“I think my father forgot it,” you answered. 

She reached into her bag and pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was already cut in half. “Here.” She offered one half of her sandwich to you. 

You looked from her, to the offered half, and then back to her. “Are you sure?” When she nodded, you took it. You immediately took a big bite. The creamy taste of peanut butter brought a smile to your lips. “Thanks.”

Nat smiled and took a bite of her half of the sandwich. “What’s your name?”

You swallowed your second bite. “Y/N.” 

“I think you live across the street from me,” Nat said. 

Your smile grew tenfold and you nodded. 

This seemed to amuse her as she chewed on another bite of her sandwich. “I remember you.”

“Me too,” you replied. “I like your hair.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled. 

Your conversation carried through your lunch. It was the first time your lunch had been more than just daydreaming between bites of food. You found yourself eagerly engaged in the bits and pieces that Nat shared about herself. You noticed that whenever you shared anything about yourself, she listened attentively without any judgment. You liked the sound of her voice. Whatever connection you had found felt strange and weird. But warm. And happy. 

When lunch was over, you both walked back to class together. You were sad when you took your seats at your desks and returned to your lessons. You already missed this new piece of your life. You just wanted to sit and keep talking to Nat. You strangely got your wish when your teacher instructed the class to pair up for a project. As the rest of the class paired up like normal, Nat looked over towards you. 

“Want to be partners?” she asked. 

When you nodded, she maneuvered her desk to sit a bit closer to yours. Now both of your desks sat further away from the others. You had never conceived that such a day like this would come to pass. Yet here it was, and you couldn’t be happier. 

Somewhere Else – 2010

The burn of the cold mountain air is the only chill you feel as you lift the axe above your head. The muscles in your back protest for the umpteenth time. It’s only been a week since the Amsterham job, and your body is still recovering from the aftermath. Being thrown across a lobby into a pillar wasn’t particularly fun. It wasn’t the worst abuse your body has been through. Barely a fraction of it. But it still sucked. 

You bring the axe down onto the log in front of you. The sharp, curved blade cuts deep into the wood. The smell of pine needles carries on the wind as you yank the axe free from the log. Your bright red plaid shirt clings to your sweaty skin. Your hair is tied back in a messy, low ponytail as you lift the axe back into the air. Dark green cargo pants with the ends tucked into tan boots covers your legs. 

You hadn’t intended to dress up like a lumberjack. You had thrown on your clothes after waking up with a sore back, stared at yourself in the mirror, and wondered what she was doing right now. You had slipped out of Amsterdam without issue. The media had covered the incident with varying degrees of accuracy. There were mentions of charred remains, but no mention of you. Or her. The two days it had taken you to travel to this little piece of woodland paradise had been spent looking over your shoulder. Waiting for her to catch up with you. 

The disappointment you felt upon reaching this place in one piece was a real mood killer. The fun was over, and now you were just left with yourself. You needed to do something. So, here you were with an axe in hand chopping up firewood. But your thoughts still linger on her. You wonder if she’ll ever find you here. You certainly hadn’t left any clues behind. 

Your axe swings back down into the log, and it breaks cleanly in half. You set your axe down upon the grass and toss the chopped wood onto a growing pile off to your right. Then, you grab another log and place it squarely on the stump. Your hands find your axe again. You can’t decide if you liked her blue hair more than the red. You know that you loved when she was on top of you. You raise your axe. Regret weaves into your thoughts. You should have enjoyed it more. What if you never see her again? You bury your axe deep into the log. 

“You have outdone yourself again.” 

Finally. You were wondering when he’d show up. 

You look over towards your father. He steps down from the cabin’s back deck. His thick black hair is combed back and peppered with white strands. Sunlight bounces off a pair of thin, brown wire frame glasses that covers his eyes. He buries his hands into the pockets of a heavy, amber colored jacket as he casually walks towards you. The denim blue jeans he wears bears a few grass stains and dried mud mares his gray loafers.

You yank your axe free and smile. “I made the front page.” 

Your father returns your smile with one of his own, yet it is small and his steel gray eyes remain cold. “I saw. Apparently a shooting between rival criminals turned into a deadly explosion. All dead. The hotel won’t reopen until late next year due to the large hole in their building.” 

A small laugh escapes you as you shake your head. “That is giving them too much credit.”

Your father’s brow furrows. “Who?”

“The men you told me to kill,” you answer as your attention returns to the log in front of you. “They were not rival criminals. They were rich men who wanted more. They reached too far, and I made them go boom.” You raise your axe up and quickly bring it down onto the log. It splits in half. “Except for Tyler.” You look over at your father. “I shot him in the head.” 

“What was so special about Tyler?” he asks. 

You shrug. “Nothing. Just felt like it.” 

Your father lets out a sigh and turns away from you. He takes a few steps away. His hand lifts up, and he runs his fingers through his hair. You set your axe down and toss the newly split wood towards the steadily growing pile of new firewood. You start to reach for another log, but your father turns back around and returns.  

“This job was important.” 

It is your turn to sigh as your interest in splitting the next log vanishes. You knew this was coming. The conversation was always the same whenever one of your jobs ended in a mess. You can’t help the way your eyes instinctively roll. Your father steps closer. 

“These clients are important.”

“It was boring,” you lift your axe up and rest it against your shoulder. 

“I do not care how boring it was, Y/N.”

“Of course you don’t.” Any trace of your earlier amusement is gone. “You did not have to do any of the work. I did. I had to spend four days with an arrogant stranger who smelled like cheap cologne and even cheaper bourbon.” Your father shakes his head and turns away from you, but you are far from through with your rant. “All that money, and he is a cheapskate. Did you know that the first thing he made me do was beat up his driver because he wore the wrong tie? And there was no backup. Who doesn’t have backup?”

Your father turns back to face you. “Are you done?”

“No,” you reply. “I wanted to kill him then. After the first twenty minutes. But no. The important clients don’t want to tackle their problems one at a time. They want everything all at once.” 

“They wanted this job to be subtle.”

“I do not understand why you are upset with me because your clients had unreal expectations,” you reply. 

Your father frowns. “Because I trained you to be better than this.”

You don’t have a clever response for that. You turn and start to make your way towards the cabin. 

“They are also upset that you left one of them alive,” your father says after a moment. 

You stop as you reach the cabin’s back deck. You look back over towards your father. “Then their information is bad. All the targets are dead. It will probably take awhile to identify all the bodies. Shifting through the rubble from the charred limbs takes time.” You set your axe down and lean it against the side of the wooden cabin. 

“They’ve already identified all the bodies,” your father says as he follows you towards the cabin’s back deck. “The targets, their hired security, the SHIELD team.” His voice goes cold around the last three words. 

You stare at your axe. You knew he was going to find out eventually. There was always a report after every one of your jobs. He knew of all your successes and all your weaknesses. It still doesn’t stop you from feeling that first hint of fear. Rooted in so many memories. Your gaze returns to your father. The frown he wears looks so natural upon his face. 

“I did not know that they would be involved,” you say. 

“None of us did,” your father replies. “Why did you leave one of them alive?” 

You feel the fear more keenly now. It’s like he’s reaching out for your favorite toy. You know what he’ll do when he gets it. But it’s yours, and he doesn’t get to touch it. 

“I didn’t–”

“Y/N!” 

You jump slightly at the way your father’s voice explodes like the crack of a gunshot. 

“It’s her, Dad.” 

Your voice is small as confusion softens the hard lines of your father’s face. It’s as if you are back in Ohio seeing the girl with blue hair for the first time. It had stolen the breath from your lungs the first time you saw her. So loudly different from the peaceful town tapestry. You thought you and your siblings were the only ones who stood apart. But then she entered your life.  

“It’s Nat,” you say when your father’s confusion persists. 

And just like that, his confusion falls away and his eyes widen. 

“The Russian spy?” 

A small smile curls your lips. “I didn’t get a chance to ask if that was true.”

“Oh no.” Your father’s hand runs through his hair again before shaking his head. “This is not good.”

“Dad.” You step towards him. “This is wonderful. I thought my only friend had been murdered.”

“That’s because you will believe anything your oaf of a brother tells you,” your father replies. “That girl was a spy. That whole family was built out of secrets and lies. Allowing you to form an attachment with her was a mistake. She was a distraction for you then, and she remains a distraction now.” 

“She did not distract me,” you lie. “I completed the job. Is it now against the rules to socialize with old friends?”

“If she is working with SHIELD then she is your enemy,” the familiar coldness of your father’s voice returns sharply. “She threatens our reputation with our clients.”

“How?” you ask. “She did not stop me from killing my targets. She did not stop me from escaping. She did not follow me here.” Each and every one of those facts were crushing disappointments. “Your reputation remains intact. Nothing will change. I will complete the jobs you give me to the best of my ability. What does it matter if I talk to her? She will not stop me.”

You wait for your father’s argument, yet he says nothing. The look he gives you is familiar. He is studying. Assessing. It reminds you of the countless grueling training sessions in the basement of your home in Ohio. You would be sprawled out on the floor, staring up at him, covered in sweat and sucking in lungfuls of air. Desperate for the training to stop. 

Finally, your father lets out a sigh and digs his hand back into his coat pocket. He withdraws a square, white envelope and extends it out towards you. “Your next job. Straightforward. I expect clean results.” 

You smile and reach for the envelope. But before you can grab it, your father pulls it away. 

“She cannot be a distraction, Y/N.”

Your smile falters. You want to point out that you already explained why she wasn’t. You want to stress that she’ll never be able to stop you from completing your jobs. What happened in Amsterdam was the result of a really long, awful job. You want to say all this, but you don’t. You wish that you were ignorant of the reason. But you know why. Because you aren’t certain what would have happened if that explosion hadn’t happened. If it had just been you and Nat. 

But, you nod, and your father hands over the envelope. You take it.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic #my fanfic #fic: i swear that i don't have a gun

[jaebeomsbitch]

Sleepless Nights (R.B.)

Summary: You'd been best friends with Robin since freshman year of high school. Now you're twenty five and those feelings of your heart racing near her are too much.

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem! reader (Genderless pronouns but only bc I'm non-binary)

Mid-twenties Robin and Reader

Warning: SMUT MINORS DNI, fingering

You’d been friends with Robin since your first day of high school. You’d clung onto each other after bonding over a button on her backpack. You both gushed over the show, arms entwined as you walked down the hallways laughing a little too loudly. 

You followed her around like a lost puppy when she introduced you to Steve. You’d heard of him of course but you’d always been a shy kid. So you took a step back, letting them bounce off each other but every so often Robin would look at you. She’d ask something to make you feel included, eyes wide and expecting. She’d cling onto every word, as you stutter at her undivided attention. Your heart racing, throat closing up as you feel your heartbeat climbing up it. The friend group grows more and more until you're just one big family. 

Now the two of were in your mid-twenties, still heading to Steve’s house for movie nights and parties. You spend the night making the rounds, your first stop was getting high with Eddie. It was the only way you could truly relax. You loved spending time with Eddie, it was always so easy. He had the ability to make you comfortable, he mostly just rambled as you nodded your head. Every so often you’d ask a question, his eyes widening. You were a good listener, actually you had become an expert. You were never much of a talker, always enjoying taking a step back and watching people speak without restraints. You liked the way their eyes shone and hands moved with passion. You told Eddie your secret, you’d both share smiles behind your friend’s backs. Giving each other reassuring touches when Robin or Steve said something accidentally hurtful. 

Your friendship with Robin was interesting. She was always breaking some sort of boundary with you, mostly touch. She had her hand on you one way or another almost as if it were involuntary. You learned to slow your breathing at the brush of her fingertips on your arm or the hand intertwined with yours as you walk. To almost everyone you looked like a couple with how much she clung onto you but that was just Robin, right? She hugged all her friends. Somewhere deep down you knew something was different between the two of you. She wasn’t pulling everyone in between her legs while she’s sitting on Steve’s kitchen counter nor was she laying her head on on anyone else’s shoulder during movie nights. Most importantly she wasn’t sharing her bed with anyone else.

It started when you moved in together, she said she couldn’t sleep when you were up watching a movie on your TV. This was the same as watching a movie on the couch right? You pulled back the sheets inviting her in, she lied like a stone next to you. When you turned to look at her you laughed. This was normal right? You were always touching and cuddling, she shouldn’t feel weird about it. She kept doing this every night until she basically converted her bedroom into an art studio. She moved all her clothes to your closet one day and you didn’t dare question it. Your friend’s joked that you two were a married couple but Robin would deny it. Her red streaked face burying into your shoulder as you punch Steve in the chest for making her embarrassed. 

You both grew accustomed to the warmth of each other’s bodies. You sought her out, feeling lost when her side of the bed was empty when she woke up in the middle of night for a glass of water. One weekend she decides to go visit her grandparents, saying they were getting old in age and she didn’t know how long they had. You couldn’t sleep during those three nights she’s gone, you turn the TV on watching an old movie, counting sheep, doing jumping jacks to no avail. Your body misses her even though you try to deny it but when she comes home you see her state. 

You notice the bags under her eyes when she comes back, your tired gaze on hers as you both silently nod at each other. You climb into bed, pulling her into you. Your chin hooking onto the top of her head as she breathes in the scent from your neck. You can’t help but sigh in content. This small moment makes you realize how much you need her. How you need her rambling and random fun facts. How you need her to insistently bug you and make stupid jokes. It’s a pivotal moment in realizing you feel so much more for her besides being friends. Friend’s hearts don’t race when she wears your sweater or when she sits on your lap. Friend’s breath’s don’t hitch when her nose presses against your neck or when her fingers run through your hair to lull you to sleep. 

“Fuck,” You mumble in your half sleep state. 

“Hmm?” Robin makes a noise in acknowledgement. 

“Robin?” You whisper, pushing away the feelings of fear. The feeling of desperation clawing at your throat, to say something to just get them out.

“Yeah?” She sighs into your neck. Her hot breath brushing against your sensitive skin. 

“Can I see your face?” You ask, heart racing in your throat, blood rushing through your ears. She can’t move her head with her tiredness but she lets you move her head back, cradling it in your hand. Her eyes still closed as she feels the thin veil of sleep come over her. She’s aware but starting to drift off. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” You whisper, maybe hoping she won’t hear. Her eyes slowly open, blinking as if she misheard you. 

“What?” She chuckles, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. As you look at her with her eye bags, hair a mess, mascara smudged you realize you are in love with her. 

“I don’t know how it happened but… I- I-,” You stutter unable to form words now that the reality is setting in. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid! You were about to ruin an almost ten year friendship over a crush. 

“I love you too,” She mumbles, yawning. 

“What? Why aren’t you freaking out? You’re always freaking out! Robin, I like you… Like want to make out with you and stuff–” you stop feeling embarrassed at your confession, feeling like a teenager again. Her eyes finally fully open, the sleep starting to dissipate. Your adrenaline is racing as you hold her. 

“Uh, I like you too and want to make out and stuff,” She teases, her hand coming up to caress your face. 

“Is this real? Am I asleep?” You whisper, suddenly freaking out this was all a lie. She scoots closer to you, your hand dropping from where you were holding her head as her face leans up to yours. You accidentally flinch at her proximity, hitting your forehead against hers. 

“Ow, definitely not a dream,” You say, cradling your forehead. Holy shit this wasn’t a dream, you drop your hand to look at her. Her face is adorned with a big dopey smile even as her head throbs. 

“You bring a whole new meaning to ‘love hurts’” she laughs, you can’t help but join her. 

“Shit, m’sorry,” You mumble, slowly approaching her face again until you’re a centimeter apart. Your eyes flicking to her blue ones as if asking permission. She gives you a small nod before you press your lips to hers.

The kiss is slow and sweet, you have all the time in the world to kiss her and hold her like this. You realize all you’ve been missing as you place kisses all over her face and neck. You like the way she gasps as you suck a hickey onto her delicate skin. Her fingernails digging into your shoulder as you hold her in place. Your fingers pumping in and out of her, her sleep shorts still at her ankles. 

“Fuck, so pretty,” You sigh, pulling back to look at her reactions. 

“Shit- d-don’t look at me like that,” She says, her eyes unwilling to let yours go just as you’ve commanded her. 

“Like what?” You ask, a wolfish grin on your face. She doesn’t reply, a high pitched moan leaving her throat. She wasn’t used to this confidence from you.

“Better get used to it, baby. Gonna be seeing this face all the time, especially like this,” You taunt with a promising tone. Once you’d seen your best friend like this there was no going back. You pump your fingers faster, reaching the familiar spongy part, as your thumb circles her clit. 

“Shit, you’re really swallowing up my fingers,” You gasp, feeling her walls start to flutter. 

“Fuu-ck, love you so much,” She moans. Her eyes roll back at the sensations, your tongue back on her neck as she spasms under you. She lets out a string of curses, her nails digging deeper into the meat of your shoulders. 

“Love you too,” You mumble into her skin. You lower yourself back onto the sheets, pulling her close as her legs continue to twitch. 

“So we’re like… together right?” You ask sheepishly. 

“M’yours,” She nods, cuddling back into your chest. 

“Okay,” You whisper as she falls asleep. Admiring all the freckles on her face. You thank god she put that stupid pin on her backpack freshman year. It was like you were meant to be this. Like the years of being friends and feeling like something was missing all lead to once again to her being in your arms. Maybe she planned this all along, maybe she just wanted to fall asleep in your arms. Maybe there was nothing more that you wanted than her here sharing your bed because there was a part of you that knew she wasn’t afraid to fall asleep in her own room but, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#robin buckley #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x reader #stranger things imagine #best friends to lovers #robin buckley x best friend #robin buckley fluff #older robin buckley #roommate Robin Buckley #robin buckley is touched starved #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley imagine

[pinkthick]

Maybe a monster

Pairing: Simon Petrikov & Kid!Marceline

Sunmary: Just Simon and Marcy being a wholesome father-daugther duo

Warnings: Blood

Simon and Marceline began to pack for their upcoming expedition or adventure , gathering supplies, and filling their backpacks. Simon was meticulous about it, making sure they had enough food, water, and other necessities to last them. He even added some items to Marceline's little pink backpack, which she hated for its color, but in an apocalypse, it was the best he could find.

As Simon wanted to tie up Marceline's hair into a cute hairstyle, he noticed the wooden soldier toy she had, left on the floor. Marceline's hair was getting longer, and it had started to get in the way, especially when they were on the move. As she sat down, Simon carefully gathered her hair and tried to tie it up, a task he had become surprisingly adept at. Or he thought that. He wasn’t that good actually.

He worked diligently but not without a few mishaps along the way. "Ow!" Marceline winced as Simon accidentally pulled a bit too hard on a strand of her hair. "Simonnn"

Simon chuckled softly, his hands working more gently now. "Sorry, Marcy. It's just getting a bit unruly, and we should find some scissors soon to make it easier for you." Marceline winced again as he finished tying her hair into a makeshift ponytail. "I know, but it hurts when you do it like that."

Simon patted her on the head and leaned back to admire his handiwork. Marceline's hair was now out of her face, and she looked at least a little more presentable. "There we go. You look great, Marcy.”

“Thank you.” She beamed up at him then she looked at her wooden soldier and Marcy hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to bring it along, but ultimately decided against it.

“You aren't taking this toy with you?" Simon asked, pointing to the wooden soldier with a gentle smile.

Marceline huffed, crossing her arms. "No. You said we're coming back."

Simon nodded, recalling his promise. "Right, we are."

But when she wasn’t looking, he quietly slipped the wooden soldier into his own backpack.

With their backpacks securely on their backs, Simon and Marceline stood at the doorway, ready to venture out into the unknown. But as they were about to take that first step, Marceline hesitated, her small frame blocking the way. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she glanced back at the familiar surroundings of their makeshift home.

Simon noticed her reluctance and gently reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand. He looked into her eyes with warmth and reassurance. "Hey, Marcy, it will be okay," he murmured softly. But Marceline's emotions were overwhelming, and a few tears trickled down her cheeks. “I don’t want to leave our home.” She leaned into Simon's touch and his heart clenched as he watched her tears fall. “Oh sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around her small form, holding her tightly and providing a warm and comforting embrace to ease her worries. "We'll just go to a little town to find some supplies," Simon reassured her, his voice soft and soothing. "If we keep a steady pace, we'll be back here in no time." Marceline clung to him, her worries slowly dissipating under the reassurance of his words and the safety of his arms. She trusted Simon implicitly, knowing that he would always do his best to protect her.

Marceline gradually let go of Simon, her tear-stained cheeks no longer burdened by worry. He gently wiped her cheeks once more, ensuring that no traces of her earlier distress remained. He looked into her eyes with a reassuring smile. "Where's my brave girl?" he inquired, a hint of pride in his voice.

Marcy chuckled, still feeling the remnants of her anxiety. "I'm not that brave."

Simon hummed thoughtfully and continued, "You didn't say that last week. 'You were the bravest of them all,'" he mimicked her words from their past conversation and that made Marceline's giggle burst forth.

She was too good for this world. She deserved a real childhood.

Simon and Marceline ventured out of the building and made their way through the dense forest, the antiquarian holding her little hand. The silence was only interrupted by the rustling of leaves and the occasional sound of wildlife. Simon's senses remained vigilant, but he hadn't detected any signs of zombies nearby. Perhaps they had chosen a good time to set out.

“Simon, do you think we can find some clothes for Humbo?" Marcy asked, her eyes gleaming with hope as she tugged on Simon’s black cloak.

Simon smiled at her suggestion. "We could certainly try. Did you ever watch Toy Story?"

Marceline blinked in confusion. "Toy Story? What's that?"

Simon chuckled softly, realizing that the reference might not make sense in this post-apocalyptic world. "Never mind. It's just a movie about toys that come to life when humans aren't around.”

Marceline's eyes widened with wonder. "No way! Do you think Humbo does that?"

Simon grinned at her infectious enthusiasm. "Maybe. Who knows? Humbo might have his own little adventures when we're not looking."

Marceline let go of Simon's hand and brought Humbo to her eye level. She peered at the stuffed toy with an expression of earnest curiosity and playfulness. "Are you coming to life when we're not looking?" she asked, her voice filled with childlike wonder.

Of course, Humbo remained silent, as inanimate toys usually do. But Marceline wasn't deterred by his lack of response. She scrunched up her face in an adorable way, her imagination turning a simple toy into a potential participant in secret adventures, just as she had imagined.

Simon couldn't help but smile at her innocence and creativity, feeling just a bit better that he could still give her some kind of childhood "I'm not taking my eyes off you now," she declared to Humbo, as if daring him to prove her wrong.

After walking for a couple of hours, Marceline grew exhausted. Her little feet ached from the journey, and she found a comfortable spot near a tree to take a break, still holding Humbo in her hands.

She looked up at Simon with a pout and said, "My foots hurts, Simon."

Simon tsked playfully. "Feet, Marcy," he corrected her.

Marceline's eyes widened as she realized her mistake. "Sorry," she said, her voice filled with a hint of embarrassment.

Simon chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. "No need to apologize, dear. You're doing great. Now, let's see if you remember this one. Give me the plural for tooth."

Marceline grinned, ready to show off her knowledge. "I know this one. It’s teeth!"

Simon nodded with a proud smile. "Yep. You're a quick learner, Marcy." And then they settled under the tree for a bit, enjoying a moment of rest.

Marcy placed Humbo near the tree, her gaze occasionally darting over to the stuffed toy as if she hoped to catch it moving on its own. Simon, however, was grappling with his own internal struggle. Hunger gnawed at his insides, and his stomach ached. His vampire instincts had been triggered, and he knew he needed blood. He couldn't help but catch the scent of nearby bunnies, their warm, living blood calling to him.

His black eyes flickered toward Marceline, his sensitive vampire senses detecting again a different scent of blood coming from her. She was only half-human, and Simon had always wondered how her blood tasted. He was so sure it had an interesting aroma and it was both haunting and strangely captivating. He hadn’t had human blood in so long.

A beautiful face appeared in his mind eye, her face twisted in agony, falling to the ground.

He stood up abruptly and Simon quickly pushed those thoughts away, feeling a surge of guilt for even considering such a thing. He would never hurt Marceline.

Simon took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on something else. He stood up and patted Marceline's head gently. "I'll be right back, Marcy. Just going to look for some food."

Marceline looked up at him, her concern evident. "You okay, Simon?" Simon managed a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Marcy. Just need a little snack. I won't be long.”

Notes: Wrote this instead of studying. Hope you guys liked it.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10/?

Masterlist

#adventure time simon #simon petrikov #vampire simon petrikov #marceline and simon #simon petrikov x reader #simon pegg #winter king #marceline #marceline anc simon #betty and simon #adventure time #adventure time alternative universe #fiona and cake #vampire simon petrikov au #petrigrof

[trensu]

Chapter 4 of HHH: Tradition! Things get tense in this one. I will be posting it on ao3 later today. The chapter is now up on ao3, if you prefer to read it there.

Billy dropped Max off after dinner on Friday. Things started out awkwardly. Max was unusually tense and taciturn. El and Dustin, however, were both determined to get Max into the spirit of things. When Eddie presented the selection he’d rented from Family Video, they let Max pick out the first movie to start their All Night Movie Marathon–named so by Dustin, though not once had he or El ever successfully stayed awake the whole night. 

Max picked The Rescuers Down Under and El picked Thumbelina. Dustin couldn’t make up his mind, so Eddie told him to decide after watching the movies the girls picked. El clung to Max the entire evening while Dustin goaded Max with his constant commentary throughout the movies. 

“I could totally shift into that bird,” Dustin bragged.

“But you are small,” El said with concern. “Would you become an egg?”

“No!” Dustin exclaimed.

Max cackled. “Dustin the egghead!”

“Shut up, I wouldn’t be an egg!”

Between Dustin’s antics and El’s sweet disposition, they had successfully gotten Max to relax and enjoy herself. It was a relief, even if it was at Dustin’s expense. It was healthy ribbing, in Eddie’s opinion; Dustin’s ego went wild when it wasn't kept in check.

Halfway through Thumbelina, they had all fallen asleep sprawled on the couch together as Eddie had expected. Eddie carefully carried Dustin to his room, and just as carefully carried Max to her designated room after. El woke up a bit when Eddie tried to move her upstairs.

“Max said I could stay in her under-the-bed” El mumbled, barely conscious.

El nearly always stayed under Dustin’s bed rather than in her own bedroom at night. Eddie couldn’t tell if it was a fear of abandonment or if it was a Monster-Under-the-Bed trait that El preferred to be under occupied beds. Either way, it was a harmless enough request.

“You don’t want to stay in Dustin’s under-the-bed?” Eddie whispered gently, just to make sure. The sludgy pool that was El quivered in a way that Eddie and the rest figured out long ago meant no.

“Billy is gone,” El said softly. “She might be lonely.”

Eddie gave El a squeeze where she oozed in his arms. She was the most endearing kid Eddie had ever met. It hurt to think about how the world at large would react if she ever revealed herself to it.

He helped her slip under the bed even though El was capable of doing it herself. She slipped under one thing only to reappear under a completely different thing on the other side of House all the time. After making sure everyone was settled in, Eddie put himself to bed, too.

Saturday started with pancakes, followed by a hike deep in the woods where human hikers wouldn’t dare venture. Max had emptied out her backpack so that El could join them without having to endure too much sun exposure. Dustin had almost immediately shifted into his mountain lion cub shape. The hike ended up being an amalgamation of chase, hide and seek, and explorer games rather than a regular hike. It easily became an all day event until tummies started rumbling mid-afternoon after they'd run out of snacks. The four of them trudged back to House to eat a late lunch. 

Eddie lamented Chrissy and Uncle Wayne being away on an outreach mission since they were the ones who could cook a good meal. He and Jeff mostly muddled through the task when they were gone. However, Jeff still avoided him more often than not over the whole Billy situation which left Eddie tasked with feeding the kiddos by himself. 

His attempt resulted in sandwiches. There was a very meaty sandwich for Dustin, who was always more carnivorous after a mountain lion shift. Dustin hadn’t yet learned to make a full set of human teeth so he gnawed at his sandwich with mismatched human and cub teeth. Meanwhile, Max, who never ate much, got a simple PB&J. She, fittingly, ate like a bird, tearing up her food into small morsels and picking at them bit by bit. 

As for El, nobody knew what kind of sustenance she actually consumed. She treated food like eating was an interesting experiment rather than a necessity, and never appeared to experience actual hunger. In this case, Max handed her bits of her sandwich that El dutifully inspected before letting it sink entirely into her sludge body. Dustin tossed strips of lunch meat in the air so El had to whip out a tendril to catch them. Eddie, who was a rebel at heart even as an adult in his thirties, let them have fun with their meal. 

After they had eaten, it was family game time.

“We can play Connect Four!” Dustin said. 

“That’s only for two players, doofus,” Max rolled her eyes at Dustin.

“Candyland? More players,” El suggested timidly.

“That game’s for babies,” Max sneered.

“But…colors are pretty,” El said in a hurt tone that made Max scowl and squirm guiltily though she made no move to apologize.

“Let’s play Mousetrap,” Eddie chimed in to defuse the tension. “That one has lots of colors, too, El, and enough little mice for everyone.”

After a few rounds of Mousetrap, they switched to Uno. When that got a little heated, they took turns playing Connect Four. Then, it was bedtime again. Surprisingly, Max suggested they sleep in the living room with sleeping bags like an indoor camping trip. Dustin excitedly agreed. El hesitated. 

“I cannot fit under the sleeping bag,” she said sadly. “I do not want to sleep upstairs by myself.”

Before Eddie could tell her she could stay under his bed so she wouldn't be lonely, Max butt in as if she had expected this.

“Just sleep under the couch. We'll pretend it's a sleeping bag. I can stay next to you,” she said.

With that decided, Eddie got them their sleeping bags and plenty of extra blankets and pillows. El slid under the couch and Max arranged her sleeping bag so close that the edge of it actually tucked under the couch a little bit. Dustin lay his sleeping bag on the other side of Max, grumbling all the while that he wanted to be next to El, too.

“Dusty,” Eddie said, knowing how much the nickname ruffled Dustin’s sometimes real feathers. He hoped to draw Dustin's grumbling to himself. “You get to have El around all the time. Let Max have a turn.”

“Yeah, Dusty.”

Eddie mentally sighed. He should've seen that one coming. With a screech, Dustin shifted to a feline shape–thankfully of the housecat variety rather than any kind of big cat–and went at Max, claws first. Eddie was well practiced at catching felines by now.

“Ope,” Edde grunted, catching Dustin mid-leap before he could get at Max. “Not today, kitty cat. We're going to play nice, so Billy will let Max come over again in the future. Got it?”

Dustin and Max glowered at each other for a few seconds longer. Finally, cat-Dustin looked away with a conspicuous yawn. He meowed loudly at Eddie. Eddie got the hint and dropped Dustin into his pile of blankets where he started to knead them. His purring was obnoxiously loud as if he were making a show of how unbothered he was about the confrontation. 

Once they were settled, Eddie came up with bedtime stories on the spot until they had all drifted off. He stuck around a good hour after the kids had gone to sleep, half to make sure they were indeed sleeping soundly and half to pick up the discarded games and to clean the dining table of any stray crumbs or sticky residue from their meal earlier. 

He checked in on the kids once more before going upstairs to his bedroom where he tiredly took off his shirt and pulled on some pajama pants. Taking care of kids all day was exhausting. He fell asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

Slightly before midnight, Eddie woke up to the sensation of something cool and viscous curling cautiously around his wrist that hung over the side of the bed. He muffled a sleepy groan in his pillow before dragging himself closer to the side of the bed. He reluctantly peeked over.

"El, we've talked about this," Eddie mumbled with as much patience as he could muster. "You can't go into people's bedrooms without asking. Those are private spaces so you gotta knock first."

Another tendril made an appearance to splat against one of the bedposts a couple of times. Even in his half-asleep state, Eddie’s lips twitched into a small smile at El’s efforts to abide by the rule. The tendril around his wrist gave a tiny tug, as El’s soft voice drifted up.

“Eddie,” she said. “Is a secret a lie?”

That caught his attention. Eddie sat up slowly to not to break the hold El had on his wrist. Eddie cleared his voice, partly to get rid of the roughness sleep brought but also to buy himself a few more seconds to think.

“Secrets are different from lies,” he replied, carefully. “Secrets can be good, like a surprise present, but some are bad.”

El was still under the bed though her grip on Eddie hadn’t slackened. She quietly mulled over Eddie’s words. Eddie had to bite his tongue hard to not immediately start asking questions. El needed time to process new information and rushing the process only made her nervous and confused. Eddie distracted himself by shoving the covers a round enough to bring his legs into a crisscross, hoping the movement would wake his mind up quicker.

“What is a bad secret?” El asked, voice dropping to a whisper at the words ‘bad secret.’

“Uh, it depends?” Eddie said, biding time for his brain to catch up. That was a more abstract question than Eddie was prepared to answer after being woken in the middle of the night. However, there must have been a reason El woke him up to ask him at this hour. “I think keeping bad secrets makes you feel…bad. Like sad or scared. Maybe angry, too. How does your secret make you feel?”

“...scared.”

“You wanna tell me about it?,” Eddie asked. “You can come up on my bed if you want and we can talk.”

After a moment’s hesitation, El oozed out from under the bed and squirmed on top. She gathered into a nervous puddle on the mussed sheets in front of Eddie. Eddie twirled his fingers around the tendril El had on him into a facsimile of a handhold. El looped her tendril more securely on his fingers.

“I won’t be mad,” Eddie said. “I just want to help, okay?”

“Promise?” El’s voice wobbled.

Eddie crossed his heart. “I promise.”

“Max wants to run away,” El said nervously.  

“What?” Eddie asked sharply. El rippled back, tendril going loose and pulling away. Eddie immediately wanted to smack himself. “No, no, it’s okay! I’m not mad. I’m just, uh, surprised. What did Max say, exactly?”

“She said we will get hurt. She is angry because we want to stay.”

Edde felt a jolt of fear run through him, though he did his best to maintain a calm exterior to not frighten El. Why would Max think they’d be hurt here? Had he done something to make her feel unsafe? He thought they’d been getting along well.

“Are they still downstairs?” Eddie asked. 

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. We can go and let Max know that House will keep us safe,” Eddie said. “Do you want to come with me?”

“No,” El said, seeping onto the floor and creeping back under Eddie’s bed. “I can go to under-the-couch by myself.”

Once she was fully under the bed, Eddie pulled on a hoodie. He practically tiptoed towards the living room to avoid startling the kids. As he made his way downstairs, he heard hissed, angry whispers going back and forth between Max and Dustin.

“If you use a small shape, you can fit in my backpack with El,” Max insisted. “We have to go now.” 

“No,” Dustin said mulishly. “We can’t leave Eddie and Jeff! And what about when Chrissy and Uncle Wayne come back?”

“They don’t matter,” Max said angrily. “The grown-ups don’t care! We have to go!”

“Eddie cares!” Dustin’s whisper was more of a stifled screech, mortally offended on Eddie’s behalf.

“Whatever! We have to leave, come on.” Max was also raising her voice now. Eddie walked softly into the living room.

“Hey, guys,” Eddie interrupted. “It’s getting kind of loud here. Everything alright?”

“Max is trying to make us run away!” Dustin tattled at once, pointing at Max accusingly.

“Shut up!” Max snapped back. “He’s lying! We’re playing, leave us alone.”

“Okay, sure, but you said something that made El feel a little scared. Can we talk about that first?”

Max turned to stare at El, who had crept out from underneath the couch, in betrayal.

“You told him?”

“Eddie helps,” El said meekly. 

When Max whirled around to face Eddie, she looked furious. Eddie hadn’t learned yet that when Max felt scared, she became angry and aggressive. Max stared him down, body tense.

“She’s right, Max. I just want to help. Let’s talk about this,” Eddie coaxed.

Eddie kept his posture open and his voice relaxed which he learned, through trial and error, helped calm down all sorts of situations. He also made sure to maintain a full view of all the kids and in case Max decided to try to book it. Max glared at him as if aware of what Eddie was doing.

“No,” she snapped.

“Okay,” Eddie placated. “That’s alright, but I want you to know you’re safe here. House doesn’t let anyone in that would hurt us.”

Max scoffed.

“House doesn’t do shit.”

El and Dustin gasped in shock. Eddie was suprised, too. Max had never spoken like that to him. He couldn’t dwell on that for long, though. Max had sprouted feathers again, more than he’d seen before, and her claws appeared. The skin not covered in feathers looked dried out and gray as her face twisted in fury.

“Me and Billy come here all the time and House doesn’t do anything,” Max shouted.

As she spoke, a wind started blowing through the house, not very strong at first but quickly gaining speed. Eddie hoped it wouldn’t wake Jeff, wherever he’d had House hide him this time.

“Max,” Eddie raised his voice to be heard over the wind. “Of course House didn’t do anything. You and Billy are our friends.”

“We’re not friends with monsters,” Max yelled at him, voice cracking. 

Max turned to Dustin and El. El clung to Dustin who had his arms wrapped tightly around her, El’s ichor almost dripping in his hold. Dustin, wide eyed with fear, kept looking from Eddie to Max, for once speechless. Max’s fury tinged with desperation as she begged them once more.

“You have to leave,” Max said. “I can–I can distract him.”

El trembled and Dustin jerkily shook his head. The wind was strong enough to start shoving around the furniture.

“Max, we don’t understand,” Eddie tried. “Please slow down and–”

Max screamed in frustration and launched herself claws first at Eddie, knocking him over. She tore through the hoodie like tissue paper, leaving thick gashes from his shoulder to his sternum. Eddie cursed at the pain. He took advantage of the proximity to wrap the struggling child in a firm hug. He hadn’t had to handle an out of control little Horror in a while, and he wasn’t prepared for this.

“Let me go, let me go!” Max screamed, flailing. 

“Max, please, I want to help,” Eddie said, almost desperately. 

Amidst the worry, Eddie was also confused as hell. Phoenixes were not aggressive creatures, from what he'd read and heard about them. When cornered, their most common escape tactic was a flare of flame to get enough space around them so they could fly away. They'd never simply launched themselves at a threat, and they rarely used their claws at weapons. Their strongest weapon and defense was fire. So why hadn't Max used her flames?

Another gust of wind made him nearly lose his footing. Details tumbled together in Eddie's mind. Wind. Feathers. Claws. Girl. He cursed himself for his stupidity. Max wasn't a phoenix at all. Max was a– 

“Aww, babe,” a voice from behind him said in a sadistically amused manner. “Is Maxine giving you a hard time?”

The wind stopped abruptly at the words and Max froze in Eddie’s hold.

Eddie’s first bewildered thought was: he came back early? Eddie’s second thought came on the heels of the first and made something cold trickle through his veins the longer he thought it: why did he barge in so late at night?

“Not enough of a hard time, it looks like,” Billy sneered. “What's the point of having a harpy if you don't do as you're told Maxine? You know what happens when you don't listen to me.”

Eddie turned to see behind, instinctively pulling the frozen child closer to himself. Billy stood in the foyer with a crossbow hefted on his shoulder. There were four other men entering House that Eddie didn’t recognize. All of them were wearing feathered necklaces and all too familiar shirts. Billy had cleared out a drawer for Eddie at his apartment, Eddie remembered with dread. Eddie had been so happy to fill it.

“Billy?” Eddie was ashamed of how his voice cracked on the name as he recalled Max’s words. How could he have been so blind?

“Hey, baby,” Billy said with a cruel twist to his lips. “Did you miss me?”

#trensu tells stories #hawkins halfway house for homeless horrors #hhh: tradition #billy's gonna get what's coming for him #i promise #we're just not there yet

[cloveroctobers]

ANGEL REYES x black! READER / Summer Prompts !

A/N: ofc I had to do a summer prompt for this highly frustrating man and you can absolutely guarantee this is about to be some bullshit! Lmao. Enjoy!

#16. Cannonball + #22. water park adventures from this prompt list here: https://hailing-stars.tumblr.com/post/653205377012367360/summer-prompts-heres-a-list-of-thirty-summer

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You’re probably wondering how we ended up here (being thrown out of a water park)…and of course you blamed the one and only, in usual circumstances, Angel Ignacio Reyes.

It was a spur of the moment idea, midnight was here and you were half asleep surrounded by your children—since your bed was basically their bed in their eyes, meaning everyone was spending the night in your room. You weren’t sure when Angel got up from the bed but you were aware that your daughter now clung to you instead. Which unfortunately added more heat to your sweaty body than you needed, it wasn’t until the clicking of the AC that you peeled your eyes open to see Angel now blocking the air, with his bare tatted chest.

“What’re you doing?” You hissed, with your daughter’s copper hair tickling your eye.

Angel wiggled his hips, dancing in front of the unit, “my back needed some air.”

“So do my titties but yet your big headed daughter got that covered.” You reached up to smooth her hair and peeked down, searching the bed for her scarf that you mistakenly allowed your fiancé to tie for the night.

Angel snorted, moving to the bed to pry the chunky four year old off you to cradle in his arms, back in front of the air conditioner. You switched the arm that was wrapped securely around, “Mavy” (you refused to call that baby, “Maverick,” respectfully) and slowly pushed yourself up into a sitting position to place the sleeping infant into the nearby bassinet.

That’s when the whining started but you weren’t backing down this time. Your limbs needed a break from the weight of the children and so you caressed his skin with patience until he dozed off. You spun back around, raising your arms above your head and arched your back with a nice satisfying crack before you slid over to Angel and bumped him out of the way for a cool breeze.

The fan above the bed was not cutting it. And you were the main one who commonly said this but angel didn’t mind sitting underneath or right next to multiple fans…yet here he stood blocking the AC you bought.

“Hey, how about we do something fun as a family tomorrow? Well today. I have the day off.”

You rubbed at your neck, “okay?”

“Let’s roll to the waterpark. There’s one about a hour away so we gotta be outta here by ten.”

“Do they have spiked slushies?”

Angel blinked as he slowly twisted your baby girl back and forth in his arms, “I’m sure they do but like…you’re not about to walk around with a black umbrella strolling all over the park right? I know you can get in the water, you just got those braids last week. I saw you sticking your head in the sink later that night for whatever reason.”

“Shut up.” You moved back to plop down on Angel’s side of the bed, reaching over to your son who rested in the middle, “I will, but if we have three kids with us at a crowded park in the heat? Imma need a drink.”

“…do we need to schedule a AA meeting on top of that?” Angel joked, making you send a solid middle finger his way.

You could drink Angel under the table but he was more of a smoker and you preferred a edible instead every now and then.

“Okay, let’s say we’re going. Did you check the weather?”

“Does it matter? It’s hot either way.”

Of course he would say this, you made a mental note to stuff some ponchos into his backpack later.

Sighing you carried on, “you need to get in touch with Adelita and let her know then…she’s away on business but keep her updated.”

“Yeah, I’ll text her in the morning.” Angel shrugged.

Shaking your head you corrected, “call her.”

Angel sucked his teeth and thought about it, “yeah, you’re probably right.”

Humming you peeked over at the alarm clock on his bedside and lifted your legs to get comfortable on the bed. Angel poked your shoulder making you slap his hand away, “hey, that’s my spot, Cariño.”

“Let me have this Angel, you’re the one who blocked the air for a solid ten minutes.”

“And I’m the drama queen?” Angel huffed, “it was at least three minutes, stop it.”

You were already falling back to sleep when Angel placed your daughter right beside her little brother, kissed Mavy on the back of his neck, and finally climbed in on your side.

It was 11:13AM by the time all of you got out of the car. The sun was already roasting all of you and you were reapplying all of the sunscreen on the kids and securing them into the stroller and wagon.

“C’mooon, y/n.” Angel complained, bouncing on his toes as he closed the trunk to the car.

You stood up straight after handing Mavy his bottle, and adjusted the bucket hat on your two year old son who sat right beside the infant. Sending Angel a glare you carefully circled around the stroller and wagon, with a hand raised and smacked some sunscreen right against his neck.

“What the, fuck? Ow!” The taller man flinched, holding onto the handle of the wagon which carried your daughter who was too involved with her tablet, while you chuckled beginning to rub the protectant in making Angel want nothing more than to get out of your grasp.

“None of us are getting sunburned, not on my watch!”

“I already put this shit on thirty minutes ago before we even entered the park, why are we wasting more time doing this?” Angel huffed.

You continued applying more to his puffy cheeks as you answered, “The instructions say fifteen minutes before you get exposed to the rays. It doesnt hurt to reapply, you know? you should be thanking your wife to be because you’re the main one out of all of us that gets fucked up by the sun, so stop bitching.”

All Angel could do was suck his teeth. He knew he couldn’t argue, the sun do be beating his ass majority of the time. It was never much of a factor to him since his mind was always set on getting into some shit. He had vague memories of his own mother applying it to his skin whenever they would go to the beach—his mother loved the beach. Then on occasion, EZ would encourage Angel to do it but he basically told his little brother to, “fuck off!” Yet with you? Ms. Part-time esthetician, he didn’t have any choice. Sunscreen was to be applied daily and there was only a three percent chance that he got away without it.

Once satisfied, the five of you were off to quite the adventure. The last time you were at an amusement park was when you were pregnant with your son, two years ago…let’s just say it was not a good experience for you. You didn’t have the highest hopes for today since it was already eighty-three degrees but you kept that to yourself knowing this was mainly for the kids, including your fourth child, Angel.

At first it was a nice stroll through the park, which was slowly becoming filled with other attendees. Angel decided he would take your daughter onto the spinning tea cup, claiming that the carousel was too boring for him. You snapped some photos with your camera before taking a seat near by, cheering them on.

Hearing the laughter of your child was enough to make you happy for the moment.

The both of you took turns playing the arcade games before meeting EZ and Sofía? By the donkey riding? Portion of the park. You weren’t expecting to see Sofía here since it seemed that she was repulsed by children and you weren’t entirely sure where her and Ez’s relationship was headed. Not that it was any of your business but Ezekiel was basically your idiot brother too.

“Dario, you wanna ride the jackass?” Angel talked regularly to your son, who’s birth name was Marcellus but he preferred Dario so thus calling the boy by his middle name.

Checking your phone you answered, “he’s been on your back before, Angel.”

Which earned snickers from both Ezekiel and Sofía. You smirked to yourself, getting ready to respond back to a text message when Angel snatched your phone out of your hand holding it above both of your heads. Folding your arms you sent him a glare, you were not about to scrap with this man in this humid environment— that’s for damn sure.

“I know you won’t mind us using your phone to take a photo of us on donkey, right?”

Ez cut in, “you do know adults cant get on the donkey right? That’ll be cruelty to the animals with that big ass head you got. It’s just for the kids.”

“In that case, let’s all send well wishes to that donkey.” Sofia chimed in.

It was your turn to send a look to Sofia who caught your eyes, you gave her a thumbs up at the jab before Angel raised both middle fingers to you all. He pulled Marcellus-Dario out of the stroller and walked up to get in line for the donkey ride. It was humorous watching Angel trying to bargain with the teenage woman at the entrance, who was clearly not in the mood for his antics. So once your two year old was placed on the animal and watched over by another worker, Angel was snapping away photos like a proud dad and even got a video in there.

Time seemed to pass by quickly with Angel and Ez rushing off to a rollercoaster, going on a few more kiddie rides, and once Sofia and Ez went off to tend to a few other rides themselves, you, Angel, and the kids settled at the food court for some lunch. After spending a half hour there you finally made it to the water section of the park, which instantly made your Pisces daughter, sprint off to the large pool with uncle ez laughing, who made his own show of pulling off his shirt to follow after his niece.

You settled on a lounge chair in your own bathing top with Sofia near you and Mavy was chilling with you two. eventually Ez came around and snatched Marcellus to hang with him and his big sis. You and Sofia didn’t bother with small talk, you tending to your phone and her snorting at the women who were gushing at Ez with your kids. When you caught on, you snickered with Sofia before plucking up your cocktail and checking on a napping Mavy, who you kept positioned away from the sun.

When Angel came around drenched and causing chaos around the pool: tossing your daughter around like she was a football, shooting water guns at Ez and Marcellus to the point Marcellus was full on crying from the pressure, Ez wasted no time handing Marcellus over to you while you got ready to cuss this man out in front of the entire park, however Ez and Angel got into a fighting match in the pool which made Marcellus giggle at his uncle almost drowning his father by the large dumping buckets.

Rightfully so, Angel knew Marcellus was a sensitive thing. He ended up apologizing to your son with some tickles only to continue being chaotic as he got to the largest water slide with your daughter. He went down with her twice, no problem. It wasn’t until he went down on his own that you realized he was up to something. You sensed it before Ez called out to you in the pool, arm locked around his niece moments after he went down the loopy slide himself.

Standing with Marcellus on your hip, you lifted your shades from your eyes, shielded the sun from your forehead, and peered into the distance watching as Angel seemed to cut the line in front of what looked like some teenagers and began sharing words with the workers and the teens.

“The hell is he doing?” Sofia commented.

You watched in horror as he put his fingers up in the air and moved to the slide. Instead of sitting down, he gripped onto the side of it, perched like a damn frog and leaped from the slide. You heard gasps from others that seemed to notice the commotion but you barely realized his name bleeding from your lips.

It didn’t take long for security and some medics to arrive to the scene but Angel was clearly laughing them off. It was without a thought that you handed Marcellus off to Sofia as you stomped over to the group. You could see his mouth was busted and some bruising forming on his stomach as you approached him.

“Hey, querida! Did you see that shit?” The dark haired man greeted you.

You gave him a sweet smile as you stood in between two security guards and eyed the medic who pressed on Angel’s stomach, making him wince.

A rich dark skinned guy asked, “Do you know this man?”

“Yeah, unfortunately I do. He’s my husband. Is he okay?”

The medic answered, “he’s fine. With minor injuries but just to be safe, we can take him to the hospital to make sure there’s no internal injuries.”

Angel quickly looked away from you, “Internal? Man, I’m good! There’s no fucking injuries from a simple cannonball.”

The security to the right of you added, “maybe he suffered from brain damage awhile ago.”

If your spirit wasn’t deeply irritated, you might have let out a cackle.

“Thanks for the advice,” you sighed stepping towards Angel, “I’m gonna kill my man now.”

The blond man reached out for the back of your arms, “Enough! We don’t need anymore public disturbances, so we have to ask the both of you to leave.”

“What?!” Angel yelled, “I just bought my family here to have some fun and now you’re tryin’ to tell me that you’re kicking us out because I made a splash in the pool?! That’s what the fuck it’s for aint it?”

The dark skinned security guard chuckled, with his hands resting on his belt, “maaan, don’t you realize you could have broken your damn neck from that stunt you just pulled? Save that for your backyard.”

The blond man rapidly shook his head in disagreement, “I wouldn’t recommend that, honestly.”

The security guard to the left continued, “You could influence the kids to think that what you just did was acceptable. Not only that, we were informed that you were about to square up with some teenagers?”

“I don’t know about all that,” Angel scratched at his hair, “alright look, they were talking shit so I shoved them out of the way and told them I ain’t no punk. They dared me so what do you want from me? In fact, those little turds owe me twenty bucks.” His eyes searched the park, while keeping a great distance from you.

Molding your lips together you clasped your hands together and spun around, not bothering to meet the eyes of the security guards. They already knew you were fed up and honestly felt a little sorry that you “married” this man.

“I’ll grab our things.” Was all you said to the men, as you silently excused yourself, walking back to Ez, Sofia, and the kids.

Ez opened his mouth to round off some questions but Sofia silently shook her head, advising that wasn’t the best idea. He cleared his throat and decided to head over there himself as Angel began to get loud, pleading his case to stay at the water park.

Sofia placed Marcellus beside a wide awake Mavy and helped dry your daughter off while you downed the rest of your fruity cocktail. Taking silent breaths and ignoring the judging stares from other people, you slipped on your floral chiffon robe. Placing your shades back over your eyes, you glossed your lips and tossed it back into your purse, before turning back to your daughter who was wrapped in her towel.

“It’s time to go, baby.” You picked the 4C four-year old up into your arms, quickly putting her back into the wagon. You caressed the once twist-out and noticed the tears beginning to swim in her eyes, then you handed the stuffed banana Angel won her, “it’s okay. We’ll blow up the pool for you tomorrow and we’ll have our own adventure, I promise.”

“Okay, mommy.” The girl hiccuped going to lay down in the wagon.

Giving a small smile you began pulling on the wagon while Sofia admired how you handled this.

“Is it okay if—?” She started, motioning to the stroller which carried your two boys.

Dipping your head you began leading the way, until a Karen blocked your path.

“You know…I hope you and your distasteful family never come back here. This is a place for well-behaved families and I know those men are nothing but outlaws just scaring the children away.” She slurped on her blue cocktail.

You didn’t bother taking your shades off as you replied, “bitch. You mean the same outlaws that you were drooling over not too long ago? And isn’t your kid the long haired lanky redhead? I just saw him vaping by the bathrooms, which I’m positive he didn’t get from my distasteful family. Also…you might want to ease up on the blow in your cocktail, it is a family park isn’t it?”

Smirking at her, you moved forward making her step out of your way and made sure to have the wheels of the wagon run over her bare foot.

“Ouch!”

“Mommy?”

“Sorry baby, just a little bump in the road.”

That’s how you ended up being escorted out of the park, despite angel’s efforts to stay but you were already over it. The guards watched you in the parking lot, making sure that you wouldn’t enter back in—or else they’d have to, “call the authorities.”

“So the real pigs? I thought that’s what you guys were.” Ez egged them on, which made you cut your eyes at him too with a shake of your head.

As you got to your car, Mavy started crying while Angel and Ez were getting ready to light up some cigarettes. Angel moved over to you while you started unbuckling Mavy from his spot all day.

“That’s his diaper cry, he definitely needs a change. Let me see.”

Putting your back to Angel you hissed, “I know, Angel. I got it! He doesn’t need you in his face with blood in your teeth and smelling like that shit. Just stay out the way, I’ll change him.”

Ez inhaled air through his teeth, mentally signaling that this wasn’t good for Angel as he watched you throw the backseat door open to lay Mavy on his back.

“Oh, she’s pissed at you, dude.” Ezekiel remarked, his eyes briefly watching Sofia as she awkwardly went to the other side of the car, socializing with his sleepy niece.

Angel licked his lips before wrapping them back around his cigarette, inhaling, “yeah, no shit. Its about to be a long ride back.”

“Aye, at least you’ll beat the traffic this time ‘round,” Ez grinned at him with a nudge while Angel rolled his eyes.

Keeping quiet, you and Sofia got the kids into the car while the men put the belongings in the trunk. You gave Ez a quick hug, thanked Sofia for her help, and climbed right in the car with nothing else to say. Angel shook his head at you before he turned back to his brother, dapping him up, then gave Sofia a short side-hug before he climbed into the car too.

It was only five, maybe seven minutes into the ride back home with your daughter and Marcellus fast asleep and Mavy quietly cooing, and your late night r&b playlist on the aux, that Angel had enough of your deafening silence.

“Talk to me already, cariño.” Angel groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

Running your tongue over your teeth, you inhaled as you shifted in your seat to face the man you were going to marry, placing your hands together into a praying motion, you got your words together.

“Because our kids are in the back, I’m not about to yell at you. Just know that I do want to wrap my hands around your neck, more than ever.”

Angel smirked, “you know I’m into that, tho.”

When he peeked over at you, he noticed that you did not crack a smile. You simply pressed your elbow into the console and stared hard at him.

He gulped, “alright! Why are you being like this? Can’t a man have some fun?”

“Fun? You thought jumping from a slide high up is fun? In front of our kids? What if you died? Then what? I already have to worry about your safety when you spend hours at the club but the one moment we get of freedom, you decide you’re gonna do whatever, with no regard for anyone else?” You questioned, brows furrowed.

Angel tilted his head, “I see your point…I wasn’t thinking about all that alright? Like I said to ren and stimpy back there, the kids dared me. What am I supposed to say, no?”

“Yes! Because fuck them kids, but don’t say fuck our kids. That’s why.” You strained to level your tone.

Angel rubbed at his beard, “I’d never say fuck our kids.”

“You did when you decided to play leap frog in front of us.” You fired off, pointing behind yourself.

Angel exhaled, “okay, fine! I’m sorry for wanting to have a grown ups moment.”

“What?” You were confused, more than ever.

“The movie. You know with Chris rock, the other guy who always dresses like this is still the early 2000s, and the chunky dude from mall cop. I watched it for the first time the other night and got inspired by that.” Angel rambled.

You felt your eye twitch.

“So let me get this straight,” you scratched at your brow, “not only were you taunted by some kids way younger than you, you wanted to have a reenactment from a scene in a movie?” 

“…kinda.” He shrugged.

“They were on a fucking zip line and guess what happened to Steve Buscemi’s character? He broke every bone in his body!” You couldn’t help but you raise your voice at this point.

Angel blinked as he looked at you, “he didn’t die tho.”

“HOOO MY GOD! You’re unbelievable!”

“Girl, you love me.”

“I honestly don’t know why when you do stupid shit like this.” Your head rested against the head rest, exhausted.

“Alright, alright! Listen, I’ll make it up to everyone the next day I have off. Summer is still going and I have time to create more memories for the kids. I’ll apologize to them later and make sure I didn’t fuck them up, maybe they’ll even get a kick out of it, huh? Unlike my stressed out wife.” Angel rested one hand on the wheel, as he looked over at you.

Shaking your head, you leaned against the window not saying anything more. Angel took the initiative to reach for your hand, although you tried to fight his touch away, he interlocked your fingers and brought your hand to his lips.

“I’m sorry that I thought about the thrill more than the kids or you.” He started, “I can’t promise that it won’t happen again but I can promise that I’ll think a little harder before doing whatever I want.”

Scowling you lifted your head, and mugged his head to the side, “I always said you needed to work on your sorry ass apologies and I see you haven’t learned anything.”

“Pop always said I was hardheaded.”

“He probably dropped you a few times to determine that, you think?”

Angel laughed at that, “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised. So…you forgive me?”

“No.” You leaned towards him and smiled, “not until your ass goes to urgent care and they can confirm there’s no internal injuries…then we’ll talk.”

Angel groaned as you backed away from his face but noticed you squeezed his hand a little tighter that afternoon.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•**•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Continue along with my summer anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #Angel Reyes #angel reyes x black!reader #Angel Reyes x reader #clayton cardenas #Mayans mc #mayans mc s4 #mayans mc fx #mayans mc x reader #Ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez x sofia #summer prompt #summer prompts

[dragonmuse]

I know you said in the one winged dove verse no one finds Read and she ends up drifting from the city. Any chance she’ll end up drifting over to where Izzy and Luicus are? (I just want her to be okay and have Izzy take care of her, I am a simple person with simple needs.)

(my girl! Can't leave her out in the world, adrift, you're absolutely right. )

The world felt insurmountably big sometimes.  Read let the wind blow her slowly west. There were jobs here and there, things that no one minded paying cash for a day or so. Enough to keep body and soul together, but not enough to tie her down. 

Every so often, she’d go into a library and use the computers to visit sites she’d long since memorized. Everyone still locked up, everyone still glued down. The missing persons report on her lingered, but was never updated.  

On her twenty-second birthday, she reached the ocean. It was warm here at least and if she slept on the beach that night, well so did a lot of people. No one noticed another. There wasn’t any cash left any way. She found the main drag and walked down it, sharp eye out for ‘Help Wanted’ signs. 

When she heard the roar of a bike, she walked towards it. Sometimes, if she used the right words, bikers recognized her as one of thiers to some extent and might spot her a meal or at least tip her off to some work. 

But it wasn’t a group of bikers at all. The shop was nice looking from the outside. Clean and well-maintained. Maybe they’d still let in some cheap day labor if she asked right. There was a clean copy of her resume in her backpack, kept in a folder to prevent wrinkling. It had helped her look more reputable on more than one occasion.

She just needed to sit down for a second first, she realized. Just for a minute. There was a bench on the sidewalk, a bus stop it looked like. It wasn’t a bad thing to sit for a second, let the world stop swimming. 

Maybe she should’ve tried to steal something this morning. Her stomach clenched at nothing and she was tired as hell. It was all so tiring. The ache in her feet from walking, the fog in her brain from not enough sleep. And the fear that clung every waking second, that she’d be found or worse...or worse just be like this forever. Lost. 

“Hey, kid,” someone said and she froze. “You know the bus doesn’t come for another hour. Or at all sometimes.” 

“I’m not waiting for the bus,” she said bleakly. “Thanks though.” 

The stranger sat down on the other side of the bench. “Not a lot of cabs or things around here either. It’s off-season, almost nothing doing around here.” 

“Fucking great,” she scrubbed at her face with one hand. 

“You need to get somewhere?” 

She turned her head. He was in a gray coverall, name patch over the pocket that dubbed him ‘Izzy’. What the hell kind of name was that? Sounded like a kid or something. He didn’t look like a kid though. Grizzled a little around the edges, even the little skin she could see, marked with fading black tattoos. His hair was longish, steel gray and slicked back from his face. 

Not a safe looking person, but Read was at the end of her luck and her rope today. 

“I’m looking for work. Cheap place to sleep after that.” 

“Easier said than done around here,” he nodded. “You were headed inside?” 

“Yes.” 

“Boss doesn’t come in for another hour or two,” he got up. “C’mon. I was getting everyone’s breakfast order anyway. You can help me carry it back. People who bring food, get their foot in the door.” 

“Yeah?” She got to her feet. “I don’t know a ton about bikes, but I can do maintenance stuff. Change oil whatever.” 

“Don’t need to convince me, I don’t hire anyone,” he shrugged.  

They walked in silence down the block. He seemed not to care that a shaggy-haired, androgynous giant dogged his steps. He hadn’t even asked her name. There was a diner at the end of the street and he dipped inside, so she followed. 

“Hey Iz,” the hostess greeted. “We’re almost done with the order. You want a coffee too?” 

“Yeah, Jesse. Can you throw in an extra breakfast burrito?” 

“Sure thing, what do you want on it?” 

Izzy turned to look at Read, “Tell the lady.” 

“Uh...” It felt like a trick, but she was too hungry to care. They were in public at least and they knew him here, clearly. Big risk if he tried something. “Fully loaded, whatever you can shove in there.” 

“Man after my own heart,” Jesse laughed and Read didn’t correct her. Izzy frowned, but didn’t say anything either. Jesse typed into her computer. “I’ll bring you coffee while you wait, okay?” 

“Thanks,” Izzy took a seat at an empty table and after an awkward few seconds, Read sat down across from him.  Jesse returned with two steaming paper cups and set them down along with milk. 

“Thank you,” Read said quietly. Jesse didn’t seem to hear, heading back to her station. 

“You been on the road awhile?” Izzy asked, ignoring both milk and sugar to sip at his black coffee. Gross. Read tipped sugar and milk into her cup. 

“Long enough.” 

“I kicked around a little on my way out here,” he nodded. “Road can get long sometimes.” 

“It can,” she nodded. “But you know. It’s whatever.” 

He didn’t ask anything else, just slowly drank his coffee until Jesse came back with a big paper bag that he took.

“Putting this on Alice’s card?” She checked. 

“Yeah, it’s her turn. C’mon, kid, let’s go.” 

“I’m not a kid,” Read protested, clinging to her coffee as she followed him out. 

“Give me a name to work with then.” 

“Read.” 

“Ok, then. Izzy, obviously.”

When they got back to the shop, the other mechanics swarmed around Izzy as he handed out orders. Some of them gave her a quick look, but no one asked what she was doing there. 

“Put it on your tab,” Izzy told a stout woman with a purple mohawk. Her nametag did say ‘Alice’. 

“I’m not playing darts with you ever again,” Alice said without any heat. 

“I told you!” One of the guys yelled out from the back. 

“Give it a few years, my eye sight’ll go and then you’ll get lucky,” Izzy smirked. “Take your gross omelet already.” 

She took her box, and retreated to sit with a few of the guys. Izzy reached into the bag and handed Read a fat cylinder wrapped in foil. Then he crumpled the bag. 

“You didn’t get anything?” She tried not to unwrap the burrito too quickly. Her fingers were shaking a little. Shit. 

“Already ate, but we all take turns getting food together. Might as well sit tight and eat that thing. I’d take it slow. Too much on an empty stomach can be hell.” 

Read wanted to argue, but her stomach was empty and she had done that once or twice. She retreated to a corner where she’d be out of the way and there was a stack of tires she could sit on. Izzy ignored his chatting co-workers in favor of starting work, apparently. He squatted down next to a mud covered bike, then reached for some tool or another. 

An hour later, Read was full and drowsy with it, but stayed alert waiting for her moment. Eventually, a burly guy with more tattoos then skin stuck his head around the door, “Which one of you motherfuckers took a bit out of my bearclaw?” 

Alice started laughing and the guy groaned, “You should be arrested.” 

“You shouldn’t re-assign my work cause I took a few hours off,” she said serenity. 

“Lesson learned.” 

“Hey, boss,” Izzy got to his feet. “Got a sec?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Read watched warily as the two talked. The boss’ eyes flicked to Read at one point and she tried to look...trustworthy? Reliable? Whatever she could project by sitting up straight. 

Eventually the guy gestures to her and she levers herself up. When she reaches them, Izzy broke off and went back to work. 

“You know some maintenance stuff, apparently?” He asked with a frown. 

“Some. I learn fast.” 

“Yeah, that and a dollar will get me half a coke,” he shook his head.  “But it’s your lucky day. Our last receptionist quit in a hurry to follow some guy to Montreal or something. You think you could answer a phone, make some appointments?” 

“Sure,” she nodded. “Is there software?” 

“No. It’s all paper. I’ll give you a hundred cash for subbing today. After that, I do thinks legal here, you understand?” 

“Yes,” she agreed readily.  

“I’m only agreeing to this because Izzy said you were trustworthy,” he didn’t look convinced. “And he’s got a knack for that. He said your name was Read? That first or last or a nickname?” 

“Last name.” 

“I’ll get you paperwork. You gotta fill it out fully, but if you just want to be Read, none of us care. I go by Smalls.” 

“All right,” she said with some relief. ”Thank you. For giving me a chance.”

“Thank, Izzy. But not right now. He’s rebuilding an engine and he gets cranky if he’s interrupted.” 

It didn’t take long to figure out the system. They kept the appointments in one book, list of  clients in alphabetical order in another. It was old school and a little weird, but she got used to it. There were a few finer points she had to ask questions about and each time she asked Smalls looked more and more relaxed. Like he wanted her to ask. So that was good. 

At the end of the day, she had enough money for dinner or a hotel and was wavering on that outside when Izzy, now out of the coveralls and just in a t-shirt and jeans came up next to her. 

“You said you were looking for a place to stay for the night. I’ve got a couch.” 

“Oh yeah?” She snorted. “I should just come to your house?” 

“You can go sleep on the beach another night, but patrol comes around more often than you think.” 

“How’d you-” 

“Sand in the hood of your sweatshirt. Don’t have any clothes that would fit you, but some of my boyfriend’s shit might.” 

“Guys with boyfriends still pull shit sometimes,” she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Hey, I think you’re smart as hell making it this long. Got good instincts. But if you want to find a place to land, you got to stay somewhere eventually.” 

She wavered, a little. He wasn’t wrong. And he had fed her and gotten her work then left her alone. He hadn’t given her one weird look or hesitated to make sure people knew to associate them together. 

Then he dug into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, closed. He offered it to her. 

“Go on,” he said when she hesitated. “You should have one anyway.” 

“I did,” she took it, trying to blink back tears all of a sudden. “I...it got lost somewhere.” 

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Bet it did. We can get to my place on foot.”

“Okay,” she swallowed thickly and walked beside him in silence down the road. 

They passed the diner and a few other small shops. Everything did look closed up. Lots of the shops had ‘see you next summer!’ signs on them or warnings about limited hours. 

“Isn’t it warm all year round here?” She asked. 

“Yeah, but we’re a little out of the way for normal tourists. Tends to be people with enough money for a second house, but not enough for one in a fancy spot. Or families with more of a budget. Hobby yachters and fishers too. Population basically doubles in June, then halves again at the end of August.” 

“Is there anything to do for the rest of the year?” 

“Enjoy some peace and fucking quiet,” he snorted and turns down a small street. 

At the end of the road is a small, but graceful house with wide windows. It’s got a strangely beautiful door, and steps laden with curlicue carvings. She waits for him to turn to one of the other cabins, but Izzy head straight for the jewel-box house. The front door opens before he got to the top step. 

“Iz,” the man said affectionately. “Another one?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Izzy stepped into the man’s personal space and tilted his face to receive a kiss. 

Over the course of the night, Read discovers that Izzy made nearly everything beautiful in the house except for the art on the walls which is Lucius’ work. There are lot of nudes, of all kinds which should be creepy, but none of them look like porno. They’re graceful, people caught in their element or resting casually, folds of skin and blemishes left as they were. She eats a very good dinner and at Lucius' insistance, uses the shower, borrowing some sweatpants and a t-shirt that almost fit. 

The couch was comfortable and far enough away from their bedroom that she’d hear the creak of the stairs. Or she would’ve if she hadn’t fallen into a deep sleep. 

Izzy walked back with her to the shop the next morning and she did the paperwork. Her clothes were clean, belly full and she had more energy than she had had in ages. At the end of the day,  Izzy waited for her like she was obviously coming with him. 

He did that over and over. Until a few days turned into a month then two months. She had a bank account again, money in it too. 

“I should find a place,” she tested the waters one night. “Like a room or something. So you can use your living room again.” 

Lucius wrinkled his nose, “Around here? I guess there might be some mildewy place or something. Assholes bought up a lot of the useful property for air bnbs a long time ago.” 

“He’s not wrong,” Izzy was at the stove, making some kind of hash. Saturdays were quiet days. 

“I could go a town or two over.” 

“You could,” Izzy didn’t sound sold on that either. 

“There’s the attic,” Lucius suggested. 

“What attic?” Read sat up a little. 

“Ceilings are slanted,” Izzy warned. “Need to get an a/c unit or something up there too doubt the central is doing it.” 

“This time of year, you can just open a window.” Lucius got to his feet. “C’mon.” 

So Read followed him up the stairs. Their room was on the right with the bathroom, Lucius’ small studio to the left. Read still barely noticed the attic door until Lucius grabbed the string and tugged down a full set of stairs. 

At the top of them was a room that stretched the lenght of the house. There were a few boxes in one corner and it was hot. A beautiful circular window that she had noticed from outside was directly opposite the stairs. Lucius went and opened it and the ocean breeze flooded in. 

The ceiling was slanted naturally, but at the center, it was nearly twelve feet high, comfortable for her even with a bed maybe. 

“It’s dead space,” Lucius smiled faintly. “He wanted to offer it to you week one, but figured you’d be freaked out.” 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’m...still kind of freaked out.” 

“It’s your call, but we like having you around,” Lucius gave her one of his wry smiles. “He likes company, more than he’d admit.” 

“I like his company,” she said loyally. “...yeah. Let’s try it.” 

Trying it lasted for three years. Until Read met a beautiful woman with dark red hair, and even then, she didn’t move far. Just to a bungalow a few streets over. And if she invited herself over for dinner a few times a week, Izzy and Lucius never protested.

#leda house and the kraken verse #just like a one winged dove

[genericswordsmaiden]

I've been waiting for this day for a year.

I celebrate it every year since 2016, reading some of hpl's works. Sometimes I brought one book with me when I went on vacation, sometimes I resorted to PDFs. What really matters is why I do this, though.

I've always felt different from those around me, gone through some really lonely years when I was little. Kids can be really cruel sometimes, and when you get used to being treated in a certain way, everywhere you look, you can only see a world that hates, despises, disappoints. You begin to search for ways to protect yourself. When I got into middle school I didn't talk to anyone, people scared me so damn much, it was a nightmare to go there everyday. The only things keeping me at least a little bit happy were music and books. I loved reading, it was like running away to a faraway place, where I could be someone else, someone who wasn't scared. My parents were worried about me - they always have been, I am the frail, mildly disabled youngest one, so I grew up really sheltered. They knew something was wrong. "Ma'am, your daughter doesn't interact with her classmates, do you have any idea about the reason she's so shy?" They sent me to a psychologist. In some ways it worked, in some other ways it worsened things. For example, I started to see how toxic the dynamics in my family were and sadly they still are, but I couldn't do anything to change them. My grades were going down because I read too much and didn't study for tests, so they threatened to take my books away if I didn't get back in line. And so, my shelter was gone. I could look at them on my shelfs, but couldn't open them. I could run away in daydreams, that's something I often did too, but it wasn't the same, for daydreams are feeble and fleeting, whilst paper and ink took me away and covered me in colors. My grades were going up again but I felt so horrible. Then, after a while, I think I reached a point where I was moving forward only because of inertia. The world I lived in seemed far away from me. I was looking at it, observing, hating, loathing, judging it - but I wasn't a part of it. My classmates were hating me a lot more than usual too, I had begun to think I was superior to them to overcompensate for the misery that clung to me. It was a vicious cycle.

But then, something happened. It was the last year of middle school, I don't remember the exact date, but if my memory serves me right it was a cloudy day. I was alone in the classroom, lessons ended early. I was waiting for my mother to come pick me up. I had the literature textbook in my backpack. "Maybe I can... read something. The year is ending, after all." I opened the book, searching for something. A title catched my eye: "The cats of Ulthar". I remembered hearing about it, my older brother had read it years before but told me that I was too little to know about it. "You could get scared!" He had told me. I liked it a lot. It was short, the style was simple, but had a certain charm. The thing that left an impression on me was what was written at the end of the page, it should have been a little bio of the author, but instead was an excerpt from a letter. It said (and here I'm going to translate it as I remember it): "Nothing ever happens! Maybe this is why my mind tends to wander in weird worlds. I hate the human race and its pretences..." It was something along these lines. I'm pretty sure the original english text is much more articulate though, he had a complex writing style, even when writing to friends and acquaintances. Also, this is the usual result when you translate something in italian and then in english again, something is gonna get lost eventually.

I read those lines a couple of times, suddenly finding myself with a realization: someone before me had felt something akin to what I was feeling. Someone else had been miserable, and, as I would discover later, he wrote about it in the most incredible, beautiful and, at the same time, disgusting way. Mostly metaphors, with the fear of the other, the fear of the unknown, and then the realisation that we ourselves are "the other" and the hate and madness that follows all of it. It's not just horror, it's not just racism, it has a vein of existentialism that really spoke to me. Even though he's not alive, knowing that I was not as alone as I thought reassured me. Reading his biography, I found some other things in common, but more importantly I understood that writing might be a good way to bring out all of my pain. Sometimes it's fun, sometimes it's incredibly frustrating, but it has worked so far. That, and the fact that I met some really good friends that helped me.

I was at one of my lowest points. I honestly think that, if I hadn't found that short story, those three lines from the past, I wouldn't be here now.

And that's why, on the 20th of August, I celebrate silently.

#lovecraft #text #oh boy i thought it was shorter #bit of autobiography #oh well at least i know no one's going to read this #i just wanted to say it #personal #claire rambling about stuff

[primalobscurite]

Inspired by a homebrew monster from a DnD 5e campaign I am currently in --

He exhaled slowly, watching the cigarette smoke twist, furl and then fade into the darkness. Washing out - drowning out - the taste of the nicotine with Red Bull, the chemical energy prompted a spring to his step as he made his way down the hill to the bus stop. The hour meant quiet. No, isolation. There was a starker and more forboding quality to the shadows that clung between the terraces and in the lanes fenced by bodged repairs and thorns.

A giggle, high and echoing, sounded off to one side. He paused, lowering his hand from where he had raised it to take anothet drag. Frowning slightly, the alley to one side led to a well-lit parking area. No movement. Not even the scurrying of one of the local rats or flap of a scavenging seagull's wing. To the other, was a lane leading to the rural, rolling hills, overgrown forests and root-claimed paths. For a moment, he saw nothing.

Then, just as he looked away, something flickered into being within the corner of his field of vision. No, stepped into, surely. Dismissing the idea of something appearing without warning, the instinct to run, to head towards the well-lit main street, was ignored. Dulled by generations of dismissing the old tales and the warnings therein.

She looked to be around six or seven. For a moment, he swore she wore a long tangled dress styled like some of the garments worn in the period dramas his girlfriend avidly watched. Then there seemed to be a flicker in the space of a blink and she was wearing a dark, non-descript t-shirt and a pair of jeans, trainers scuffed. His mind scoured from him the awareness of the metal features of the fence being visible through her.

"Y'lost kid?" She didn't reply, staring at him. Was she hurt? Had she ran from something? Looking between the girl and the street and the promise of light nearby, he sighed and shouldered his backpack, tools rattling as he did so.

"Look, you shouldn't be out this early. Or by yourself at all, frankly. Want me to help find your parents?" As much as it would make him late, the idea of someone not helping one of his cousins if they got out the house and went wandering didn't sit right.

It was the moment when he had stepped completely out of the lit pavement that he realised he had made a mistake. Closing the distance, he watched in enthralled horror as part of her face buckled in on itself, cracking. Her nose collapsed in, bones breaking from cheek to cheek. The last thing to disappear into the bloodless cavern forming where her face has been was her mocking grin. And the eyes. Pinpricks of white, staring.

Staring, and something inside him fractured. It was to the sound of her playful laugh that he had been found wandering the streets in a frenzy, screaming about the girl with the broken face.

The sedation began to wear off, and he blearily opened his eyes. The room was sterile, and his nose wrinkled at the tang of bleach cleaning. Stirring, he frowned then at the sight of someone's back at the door. Where the hell? Then he caught a movement beyond that, and he felt the colour drain from his face.

She raised a hand and waved at him, before skipping down the corridor, her laughter sounding as she went. The last thing he saw was darkness and those points of light. His screams heralded the start of new hunting grounds. Long had it been since someone had tried to help and in doing so, given her an anchor to elsewhere. Now, she could begin to thrive.

#horror #short story #modern #monster #originalwriting

[supergay-supergirl]

AUTISTIC LENA LUTHOR MOODBOARD (2x01 // 3x12 // 5x19 // 5x17 // 5x06 // 2x08 // 2x20 // 4x18 // 4x11)

Inspired by @appleciders's moodboards of adhd zari and adhd sara

#she's autistic your honor #lena luthor #supergirl #gifset #my content #moodboard #nd arrowverse #supergirledit #dctvedit #lenaluthoredit #katiemcgrathedit #katie is a phenomenal actor and the way she plays lena is so calculated in a way that really speaks to me #runners up: #the way she crosses her arms whenever she's uncomfortable which is always #the way she always has a glass or spreadsheet in her hands while she's talking #the way her tone of voice is very very intentional #and often exaggerated especially when she's uncomfortable #the way she clung to her backpack when she was a kid #generally being a chess prodigy #literally all of confidence women #both lucy loken and alex najera understood the assignment better than anyone in the writers room #anyway yes enjoy #oh bonus runner up: #any time she does anything with her hands #i had so many recordings of stimmy hand things but i could only use a couple #autistic lena luthor

[ryosmne]

Three brats??

Dad!Sukuna x f!reader

So this is basically a comfort fic, featuring dad! Sukuna because the brainrot was too much. Ok so, the reader and Sukuna have a son together, yes their son is Yuuji, I know this is usually the single father Sukuna trope, but I wanted to give it a go, feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for brainrotting with me @likeab-o-s-s cause this is the reason this exists. That's all from me enjoy reading.

Warnings: none really, just family, heartwarming fluff.

The air was crisp and fresh, unusually refreshing for the beginning of summer. Parents were already gathered outside the daycare, Yuuji, y/n's and Sukuna's son attended, patiently waiting for their kids to run in their arms again.

Sukuna arrived a couple of minutes before the final bell on his motorcycle, he took off his helmet, leaned back on his bike and waited for the familiar little pink head of hair to come wobling to him.

The three mothers next to him, scooted a bit closer to him to get a better look nothing he's unfamiliar with and no one can blame them, Sukuna is a sight for sore eyes. Leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up, extenuating his board shoulders, exposing his tattoo covered skin, v neck white t shirt, allowing his toned chest and even more of his tattoos to show and a simple black pair of pants hugging his muscular thighs in the best of ways.

In the past some of the bolder ones had mustered the courage and asked him if he was a single father since they had never seen his son's mother, but with a laugh Sukuna brushed them off telling them how his lovely wife was a working parent and her schedule just didn't match the daycares. Maybe the very unconventional wedding rings they got weren't the best idea in this situation, even though they were extremely beautiful and unique.

"I really admire the work you put in the little guy" Sukuna's gaze met a woman who attempted to strike a conversation, oblivious to what she had meant by her statement he replied, maybe these three minutes would pass faster talking about normal things and not stressing about work.

"Don't we all put work on our kids?" He spoke calmly with a slight smile that he always wore when talking about Yuuji.

"Yeah, we do, but it still must be hard I can't imagine what you're going through" Sukuna's mind went to the worst scenario. Was Yuuji a trouble maker at school? He is a very well behaved child, both him and y/n made sure to teach him proper manners and how to be polite, that couldn't be it right?

The bell rung, and kids made their way out of the daycare, Yuuji in the blink of an eye was hugging his father's leg, exited to see him after the hours he was gone. In a swift motion Sukuna put Yuuji's little backpack on his own back and scooped the boy up in his arm.

"Yuuji's a pretty good kid, hes never been difficult" Sukuna smilled again resuming in the short conversation with the woman next to him. "Single father's like you don't get the credit they deserve". She spoke again smiling sadly down to the little pink haired boy who seemed too fixated on the earrings his father was wearing.

Sukuna finally understanding what this whole thing was about, chuckled, this had happened before after all, he should've known.

"I'm not a single parent, speaking of that your mom said she has a big surprise for you after dinner" he said directing his attention to his son again, the woman next to him quickly fumbled an apology for missundertanding, to which Sukuna replied to with a simple 'dont worry about it'. He placed Yuuji on his bike, put on both his and his boys helmet and drove off.

Y/n was still stuck at work, thankfully her husband would cook dinner tonight cause overtime was killing both her and her mood, good thing she finally had a day off tomorrow.

Y/n checked her phone to see how close she was to going home only to find a text that Yuuji's teacher had send her that was obviously meant for her husband.

Hello Mr Itadori, this is Mrs Laura from the day care. I was wondering if you wanted to get launch with me after school tomorrow, you can bring little Yuuji too, I'm awaiting your response, have a nice night.

What the hell was that? Well y/n's number was in Yuuji's contact information, she chuckled at the words displayed on her screen but she couldn't really blame the teach, Sukuna was a walking temptation, she knew that first hand, hell she fell head over heels for the dangerous looking guy who hid a heart of gold under his hard exterior, but the teacher could at least check who the number belonged to.

Y/n run her last errands and made sure to pick up Yuuji's surprise before heading home, she even tipped Sukuna off so their son wouldn't know what hit him.

Y/n made her way inside the family house, tossing her keys somewhere on the living room couch.

Yuuji immediately after hearing her car in the driveway came rushing down the stairs, jumping around her like he always did when she came home.

"Mom, mom you're home." The happiness was evident in the boys face, his smile was wide when y/n dropped to his level to pick him up and spin him around

"Yes I am little devil, did you give your father hell like we agreed?" She spoke in the happiest of tones with Yuuji still in her arms. Another set of arms engulfed her frame making her halt on spinning the little boy.

"So you're telling him to be a little brat now huh?" Sukuna's breath tickled the side of her neck and ear as he rested his head on her shoulder and wrapped his strong arms around her waist. "Welcome home love" he spoke again giving her jaw a ghost of a kiss.

"Daddy is the food ready" Yuuji spoke from y/n's arms, Sukuna only laughed at his son's appetite, and directed both him and y/n to the kitchen where he had already set everything up.

"Mommy, what is a single dad?" Yuuji asked in the middle of dinner in typical fashion of his, any question he had from something he heard through the day would always come up during dinner.

"Well Yuuji, single fathers are the fathers who raise their kids alone." The young boy seemed to think about his mother's words before speaking again. "So its just a daddy ?" Yuuji asked again with his eyes growing a bit sadder, his mother nodded, and Yuuji's eyes started to water.

"Baby what's wrong?" y/n asked. "Hey buddy what's going on?" Sukuna was growing quite concerned too. Yuuji burst in tears leaving his seat, climbing up his dad and hugging him tightly. Sukuna was rubbing his back to comfort the young boy and y/n's hand was stroking the kids hair in an effort to calm him down. "B-but why did that lady c-call you that, is m-mommy l-leaving?" Everything seemed to click for Sukuna, y/n was still confused but in the calmest sweetest voice said "Yuuji, baby look at me, I'm not going anywhere ok?" And the boy left his father's arms and clung on to her like his life depended on it.

Sukuna cracked a few jokes and lightened Yuuji's mood so he could enjoy the rest of his dinner, which went pretty well, he was his smiling adorable self very soon after his parents reassured him that none of them were ever leaving his side and the boy was now drawing with crayons in the living room. He seemed to have completely forgotten about the surprise his father mentioned when he picked him up.

Y/n and Sukuna were doing the dishes in the kitchen, each one talking about their day, Sukuna explained the awkward conversation he had at the daycare that sparked Yuuji's sadness, y/n took a turn in talking about how her son's teacher, basically asked Sukuna out on a date but messed up and texted her. "How about you set up a date and you show up? I mean it's you she texted right?" Sukuna joked "Babe, that's cruel" y/n chuckled at her husband's mischievous nature.

"So you've got everything ready?" Sukuna asked. "yeah who'll bring him over?"

"You do it I'll keep Yuuji busy."

Sukuna joined Yuuji on the couch. "What are you drawing little brat?" Y/n heard him ask their boy in the usual sweet tone he had with him. She made her way down the basement, where she kept the surprise since she came home. Yuuji was going to love this, Sukuna was too, she knew she was already in love as well.

Y/n climbed the stairs quickly, and snuck up behind her son, who was occupied by his dad, she gently tapped the boys shoulder.

"A PUPPY" Yuuji announced exited making sure his voice was still soft not to scare the eager dog that his mom brought to his arms. Yuuji gently held the puppy that was licking his face as he was in a fit of laughter and excitement. Sukuna was as exited as his son and y/n had a huge smile on her face too. Their son had begged and begged for a dog ever since his best friend, Megumi got a black German shepherd puppy. Of course y/n and Sukuna wanted to comply to Yuuji's request right away, but they took time to teach little Yuuji everything there was about the responsibility of owning a dog. They took him to dog cafes and shelters, so he would be the perfect little dog owner, they taught him patience and responsibility beforehand. Sukuna visited the local shelter and decided with y/n on a white Shepard puppy that Yuuji always pointed out in your visits because 'he looks like Megumi's puppy they can be friends like we are' who can say no to that little adorable devil?

The puppy momentarily left Yuuji's arms to lick Sukuna's face. "Now we've got two little brats and a big one in our house." He laughed, enjoying the moment.

Y/n was admiring her son and husband as well as the newest member of the family with a smile plastered wide on her face, life was indeed beautiful.

The next day, both Sukuna and y/n were waiting for Yuuji to finish school, since y/n had the day off. Sukuna had his arm protectively around her because this time, others were staring at what was his, but he was proud to show her off to everyone, even in a place as mundane as his son's daycare.

#jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #au ryomen sukuna #au sukuna #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you

[t00turnttrauma]

tested pt. 2- sfk

warnings: needles, anaphylactic shock

Sam knew he fucked up the moment he saw that you were still in the parking lot. He wasn’t even sure why he took Nick to the geneticist. He obviously saw his genes in the little boy. He also saw little things like the way the corner of his lip curled when he smiled, just like how Jake and Ronnie’s lip did. He saw the little twinkle in his eyes that Josh got when they were excited. But maybe he always saw these things because he wanted to see them.

He also saw you in him. He noticed how Nick’s brows would furrow when he was focused. When Sam would offer him sugary drinks, he was hesitant, quoting you when he politely denied.

“I’ve already had two, Sam,” he would say before asking for water.

There was just a little seed of doubt that was planted in his mind the day he saw you at the Winter Carnival. He couldn’t believe it when the little boy ran, clung to your legs, and called you ‘mommy.’ He felt his heart twinge at the thought of being with someone else. Then he noticed the look of panic in your eyes.

Spending time with Nick was intimidating at first. He was nervous to see him, but once he thought of him as his son and making up for lost time, he found it easier. When you agreed to let him take him out places, Sam was over the moon. His elation only grew when his family treated him like the grandson they never had.

The entire time, there was a little voice in the back of his mind telling him that there was something wrong with the situation. He didn’t pay any attention to it until Nick’s first day of school. Sam was scared when you came by, scolding him for taking his own son out of school.

“You’re not his father!” echoed in his mind, making that voice chant a little louder.

He was hurt at the outburst. The rational side of his brain knew that you had a point. He should have told you that he was taking Nicky out for the day.

By the time he was over it, Sam felt like garbage, leaving town to see his brothers again. Josh was the one who delivered a little bit of tough love.

“Maybe she really is just trying to screw you over.”

Sam was offended. “Y/N’s not like that.”

Josh tried to backtrack, but it was too late. He’d already fertilized, watered, and placed a grow lamp over the seed. “I know that. I’ve known her longer than you. What I’m saying is that no one ever knows another person’s intentions.”

In that moment, Sam began researching anything that had to do with DNA testing. The internet made it easy for him to create an appointment. He wanted to bribe Nicky into silence, buy him a new toy or a new backpack, but nothing could take his attention away from his Wild Safari Birthday Bash at the zoo.

The results appeared in his email five days later. Sam couldn’t stand to go home and face his brothers. He also couldn’t go North without bringing new Nick stories to his parents, so he stayed in his apartment alone and mulled over the results. He officially has a son, and his mother didn’t want you anywhere near either of them.

The day of the field trip/birthday party came. The October air was crisp, but it would warm up later in the day. Sam brought Nick’s backpack. The usual things were packed, like his EpiPen and coloring books. He stuffed a jacket and umbrella, having checked the forecast recently and seeing rain. He met the bus out front, counting the kids as they came off. He talked to the teacher, conversing about the day’s activities.

“Sam!” Nicky shouted, jumping off the last step and running into his arms.

You were the last off the bus. “Chaperoning. Lucy’s mom dropped out last minute.”

Sam smiled. “Let’s just forget about it for today.”

You sighed and agreed. “But we’re going to talk about it later.” Your turned around to the group of first graders you were in charge of. “Group three! If you’re with me, we’re going to have so much fun. So much more than the other groups!”

Even though you were all staying together, it was easier to take charge of smaller groups. You walked with the rest of your buddies while Sam walked ahead with his group, including Nick. You envied him a little bit, seeing how excited Nicky was. Every time he saw something cool, he would grip Sam’s hand.

Despite coming on the trip angry and still upset with Sam, you saw how good they were together. You thought about it from an outside perspective. Sam was thinking about himself, and you didn’t really have a right to be so, so angry. You would have done it if you were in his shoes too.

Everything went swimmingly until lunch. You sat with group three, separating the food while Sam sorted things out with the staff. The teacher controlled the kids, helping them pick out their orders at the kiosk. After the meals were finished, you were helping the other two adults clean up and the kids were all crowded around the ice cream cart that Sam sprung for. You winced when they came out, wondering how you were going to afford to pay him back.

“Ms. Y/N, there’s something wrong with Nicholas.”

You panicked, dropping the tray of trash you were holding. You walked over to Nick, letting out a sob when you saw the ice cream in front of him topped with nuts. You laid him down on the bench. You tried to stay calm.

“Someone call a medic or an ambulance.” Your voice wavered as you tried to find his EpiPen. “Nicky, stay calm.”

Sam kneeled beside you as the teacher gathered the kids over to the gorilla enclosure. A staff member’s walkie talkie gurgled, asking for her location in the park. Sam tucked his hair behind his ears, focusing on Nick. His breathing was labored, and his eyes were wide. You panicked, dumping the contents of your purse, feeling your breath shorten and heart rate pick up.

Without making a noise, he pulled off his backpack. He dug through the bag and fished out the orange and blue stick. “Nick, son, this might sting, but I promise that you’re going to feel a lot better,” he cooed, uncapping the stick.

His eyes clasped shut as he injected Nick. Almost immediately, Nick calmed down. You ruffled his hair, finally feeling the tears on your cheeks. A paramedic pushed you away from the bench. Sam wrapped his arms around you, helping you stay steady as they put Nick on a gurney. He only left you for a moment to gather the contents of your purse and putting them in your bag before helping place it on your shoulder.

“Sa-“

“Just go,” he said. “I’ll take over your group.”

The ride to the hospital wasn’t as bad as you thought. Nick was conscious. He didn’t completely understand the severity of the situation, but he understood that he was alright. The waiting around in the emergency room was alright. Because he was at risk of going into shock again, he had to stay monitored. He was back to himself in no time. Nurses filtered in and out, checking his vitals before leaving again.

“Hey, hey,” Sam said softly, opening the curtain. “Sorry for the suckish birthday, little man.”

Nick shrugged it off. “I want to go back to the zoo.”

“Some other time,” Sam chuckled. His eyes flicked towards you. “Can I talk to your mom outside?”

You followed him into the hallway, flashing a funny face to Nicky for a moment. Once you were face to face with Sam, you felt the waterworks start again. “Sam, you saved his life.”

He waved you off. “I would have done it, my son or not. And now I know that he is and I am so sorry.”

You apologized for your own secret. Telling him how Nicky would sit by the window waiting for Sam to come by. “I was awful for putting you both through it.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace. “I get it. I get it.” He sniffed back his own tears. “You can make it up to me by going out to dinner with me. All of us, together at one time. Like a real family.”

You thought it over. “Of course.”

#sam gvf #sam kiszka #sam #sam kiszka gvf #sam x reader #danny wagner #danny gvf #daniel wagner #danny x reader #greta van fleet #gretavanfleet #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet fanfic #josh gvf #gvf #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka #jake #jacob kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #gvf x reader #gvf imagines

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Fuck Me Yourself, Bitch

Rating: [explicit]. Minors DNI.

AO3 link is here.

Contains: smut, vaginal fingering, plenty of cursing because Abby’s a pottymouth, basically uhhhhh enemies-to-hate-fucking-but-oop-there’s-some-feelings-in-there-but-OOP-y’all-stubborn-hoes-won’t-admit-that

This was meant to be some nice PWP. It’s now 6.2k words long, fucking angst appeared out of nowhere and I haven’t slept in over a day. Send help.

Word count: 6,222

Upon Isaac’s initial request to deploy you to clear out an old arms warehouse in Seattle, you were elated; spending almost every hour of the day cooped up in the stadium was far from stimulating, even if you loved your job. The chance to get some fresh air was enticing. Plus, it had been a while since you’d fucked up some infected.

All of that joy dissipated when you were told who’d be escorting you.

Abigail fucking Anderson.

Insufferably stubborn. Colder than a witch’s tit. Brash and unwilling to offer a slither of a pleasantry. Arrogant as anything – when it came to survival, it was her way or the highway. Historically, she had never cared to listen to your expertise as a weapon’s engineer on the most efficient ways of fabricating bombs and augmenting pistols; she wasn’t about to take advice from “a hermit in her damn workshop”. Spending any longer than a minute in her company was exhausting.

But, fuck, did you want to take a bite out of those arms.

Sod’s law, right? The most frustrating person you knew was simultaneously the most attractive woman you had ever laid your eyes on. In a way, her astounding beauty kept you sane when forced to talk to her: whenever the overwhelming urge to punch her smug face struck, you’d simply glance at those big, calloused hands with nails far too blunt to be straight and…yeah, there goes the anger. And hearing the occasional tomato-faced girl in the stadium whisper to her friends about the heat Abby packed in bed certainly didn’t help your affliction.

The morning of your mission, you were rudely awoken by the generators next to your small apartment thrumming obnoxiously loudly, and the stadium-wide boiler issues meant your shower was like ice. Needless to say, you weren’t in the best of moods. Regardless, you arrived at the armoury on time, scarfing down the remainder of an apple you managed to snag from the cafeteria.

“You’re late,” a disgruntled voice sounded from the weapons reception.

Abby leant against the desk, keys to a WLF vehicle in hand, her usual ensemble of weapons hanging from her backpack. Her hair was pulled back into a low messy bun – a change from her braid, presumably to keep it from clinging to her neck in the summer heat – and she sported a black t-shirt that clung too tightly to her muscular frame, the cocky bitch. A bored expression was plastered on her annoyingly lovely freckled face.

“The fuck I am,” you rolled your eyes, tossing the apple core into a nearby bin. “Eleven fifteen, right? It’s eleven ten.”

“If you’re not early, you’re late—”

“I am early, you dick.”

“—But I appreciate you run on a different schedule, spending all your time sitting on your ass in your office.”

“You should listen to yourself, Anderson.” You gritted your teeth and requested your usual kit from the recruit manning the desk. He grimaced, clearly new to the job, and asked for your name so he could check the kit files.

“Sorry, I’m still learning the ropes,” the boy – no older than sixteen – apologised, grabbing your weapons from the racks.

“Don’t sweat it. Everyone starts somewhere, plus I don’t usually patrol.” You offered a smile and signed your name on the retrieval form. “It’s my fault for being so vague, really.”

“Mother’s meeting over?” Abby called, exasperated.

Taking a deep, calming breath, you slotted your gun into your holster and spare magazines into your pockets. “Ignore her, kid. She’s a colossal ass.” He laughed anxiously, glancing at her hulking frame, bidding you a long survival.

“You know, it’s no wonder John quit. Having to talk to you every day would drive anyone to resignation,” you chided, heading over towards your begrudging comrade.

“Do you ever stop talking?” she sighed. Briefly, you contemplated strangling her, not that you’d be able to overpower the tank. Instead, you choked down your bitterness.

“Which car?” you asked, forcing a polite smile.

“Are you having a stroke?”

“Oh, fuck you. I’m done trying to be nice.”

Abby didn’t so much as spare you another glance, opting to saunter over to a jeep instead, hopping in the driver’s seat. You followed suit, genuinely surprised when she didn’t banish you to the trunk, buckling into the passenger side.

“I hope you’ve got your shit together,” she muttered, twisting the key into the ignition. You tried to ignore the corded muscle of her forearm as she did so.

Tried.

-----

Getting to the warehouse was a fairly smooth endeavour, with minimal infected and no Scars to dispose of. Blissfully, a silent one, too; Abby only opened her mouth to curse when the engine stalled. Alas, all good things must come to an end, and within five minutes of exiting the jeep, she resumed her arrogant, jeering attitude.

“I don’t understand why I couldn’t do this alone,” Abby commented plainly, picking up a glass bottle from the street and tossing it in her hand.

“Maybe because someone who, you know, builds weapons has a better idea of what’s useful than someone who goes around breaking them?”

“Last time we patrolled together, you were collecting crushed soda cans, like they were any more than scrap.”

“Soda cans that made the napalm cannisters for the flamethrower you took out the next week.” You huffed and stormed ahead of your escort. “Isaac asked me to do this because I know my shit, okay? Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

Before you could take another step, a strangled cry sounded to your left, and a fungus-ridden body lunged at you. Panicked, you held the stalker back by its shoulders, keeping it’s slobbering, rotting mouth away from your flesh. Shit, you forgot how deceptively strong these things were.

A bang resounded through the street. Brain matter sprayed onto the sidewalk beside you, and the infected went limp.

Shuddering, you shrugged the body off of you and reached for your gun. “Thanks,” you muttered, prying your eyes away from the bullet lodged in the stalker’s skull.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Abby seethed. You turned to face her, internally wincing at her enraged expression, eyes wide and teeth gritted.

“Don’t piss me off and I won’t be so fucking distracted, alright?” You brushed off your cargo pants and scanned the streets for any other infected.

“Oh, no, it’s not my fault you left your brain back at the stadium. I can’t fucking do my job if you’re trying to get yourself killed.” Abby strode towards you, pistol in one hand and glass bottle in the other. She kept pace in the direction of the warehouse, long legs making it difficult for you to match her. “Stay the fuck behind me, and don’t do anything like that again.”

“Sure, whatever keeps you happy.”

“My charge not getting bitten is a good start.” Not wanting to further poke the bear, you simply nodded, heart racing in the aftermath of being jumped. “I mean, seriously, you’re an engineer. Aren’t you supposed to have a functioning brain?”

“Okay, I messed up. Let’s just move on.” Frowning, you gnawed on your bottom lip. That hurt.

“Messed up? God, you probably blew Isaac to get your job—”

Indignantly, you gasped, eyes stinging with the threat of tears. Never had anyone insulted your pride like that.

Abby’s scowl softened. “Look, that was fucked up. I didn’t mean—”

“Let’s just get to the warehouse, yeah?” You refused to meet her gaze and gestured for her to keep moving. She didn’t add a word. The rest of the journey was walked in silence.

-----

“Damn, I can hardly see shit in here.”

The final section of the warehouse was just shy of pitch black, its windows barred with rotting planks of wood, a maze of ammunition crates and guns obstructing the light of your torch. Gas masks secured around your faces, you and Abby took cautious steps into the darkness.

“God, I bet clickers love you,” Abby groaned, muffled by the mask’s filter. “Seriously, if you don’t have useful shit to say, just shut it.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t see any spores here either, do you?”

“Well, you’re welcome to take your mask off and test that theory.”

“Look, the area tested clean for spores six months ago, and that’s not enough time for any infected become bloaters. There’s no potential spore source.” With confidence, you unclipped your mask and reattached it to your backpack. Steadily, you drew in a breath. “See? No spores.”

Brow raised with disbelief, Abby followed suit. “You’re batshit,” she muttered.

“My logic was sound, admit it—”

“Shh.” Abby held up her hand and peered around the corner of a stack of crates. “You hear that?”

Stilling your breath, you listened closely, faintly hearing croaks and choked shrieks in the darkness. No clicks, though. Frowning, you held up a finger to Abby, silently asking, ‘Stage 1? Runners?’

Abby still looked concerned. “Fuckin’ swore I heard a clicker too.”

“The runners are making enough noise to attract it, if there is one,” you took another listen, harnessing all your concentration. Faintly, like a cricket among grasshoppers, you heard it: click. Nodding, you whispered, “You still got that molotov?”

She retrieved it from her pocket. “If anything makes it out of the fire, shoot it, got it?”

Obviously, you thought, but gave her the thumbs-up anyway.

Readying your semi-automatic, you took Abby’s place by the corner of the crates, waiting for her to launch the explosive at the horde. She took her time, analysing the source of the sound, trying to determine when the infected were all grouped together. Muttering a ‘fuck it’ under her breath, she threw the molotov into the darkness.

Strangled wails echoed as flames engulfed the infected, the fire illuminating the small section of the warehouse, dancing over the frames of three runners and a clicker. The runners dropped swiftly, but the clicker stumbled in the sea of orange, its squalls deafening. Abby reached for her hunting pistol to put the thing out of its misery, but you stopped her.

“Give it a minute,” you urged. “It’ll lure out any others.”

For the first time in…well, ever, Abby listened without interjection. And, sure enough, two more clickers came staggering towards the inferno, mindlessly walking into the flames. You each lodged a bullet in their heads.

“Nicely done,” she acknowledged curtly, taking you aback.

Unsure of what to say, your attention reverted to the fire, using its faded light to gather your bearings. Vaguely, through the amber, you made out the frame of a door, possibly leading to an office or staff room from when the warehouse was in full swing.

“I think that’s our last room,” you said pointing to the door, gesturing dramatically for Abby to lead the way, as per her earlier demand.

Biting back a scowl, she meandered around the dying flames, firing a bullet at each of the runners’ skulls for good measure.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Several sizeable weights collided with the door from the other side, leaving indents in the metal, seemingly attracted to the sound of the gunshots. The thuds kept coming, the metal deforming more and more with each collision.

“Fuck, we’re out of explosives,” Abby cursed.

“We can make a trap of some sort,” you suggested. “Lure them to a point so we can gun ‘em down easier.”

“With the rate the door’s caving, we won’t have time. There are three indents on the door. Three of them, two of us. I’ll shoot the lock and we take them out.”

Abby holstered her pistol and slung her rifle over her shoulder, poising to shoot the door. This is a horrible idea.

Thump. Thump. Thump. You panicked, covering her hand with yours, earning an angry look. “There could easily be more than three. The door’s only big enough to fit three bodies, but that doesn’t mean the room is. We just need to reposition ourselves and—”

“Don’t get in my way,” she growled, re-aiming her gun at the lock. You barely had time to aim yours when she pulled the trigger, the handle flying off the door into the dark.

Thump.

Clickers began to pour out of the room, at least a dozen sprinting towards the two of you before you could blink. You managed to mow down half with your semi-automatic before the magazine ran out. “Shit,” you spat, cursing yourself for not switching out sooner.

Fortunately, Abby took out most of the remaining infected before they could reach you, leaving two behind. You watched, horrified and in awe, as she took out one point blank with the butt of her rifle, caving in its skull, while delivering a devastating right hook to the second, stomping its head in.

“There. Place is cleared out.”

You spluttered, processing her nonchalance. “You know, if we had stuck with my plan, you wouldn’t have had to go into melee range against two fucking clickers.”

“They’re dead, aren’t they?”

“You have no fucking right to call me reckless if this is how you deal with a perspective disadvantage—”

“If you checked your magazine after we cleared the last section, I wouldn’t have had to—”

“No, fuck no, this isn’t my fault Anderson. This is entirely on you—!”

“They’re. Dead.” You threw up your hands in defeat. Abby continued, refusing to admit to her faults. “I’m gonna scope out that room and try to find a light or something. You go and take inventory like you were ordered. Preferably in silence.”

“Suck my dick, honestly.” You sat down by a bay of forklifts, leaning against the orange metal. “The place is packed, there’s no way I can count everything here. Isaac will want the supplies shipped regardless.”

Abby peaked through the doorframe, giving the room a once-over. “Then get comfy. There’s no way we’re gonna make it back to the stadium before dark. There’s an old radio in here, and a couple of gas lamps. I’ll get in touch and explain the situation.”

Sighing, you took off your boots. Great, more time with captain sunshine.

-----

“This is Anderson of group 19 contacting the F.O.B, do you copy?”

Abby had spent the past hour hunched over the decrepit radio, testing every WLF frequency for signs of life. Meanwhile you had managed to rip the seat out of a forklift and flatten it into a makeshift bed for the night.

“Yes, this is Abby. We made it to the warehouse, but we have to crash for the night. Streets are crawling with infected and my partner isn’t a soldier.” You snorted at the venom laced in the word, twisting your screwdriver into the heel of the rifle in your lap.

“Send word to the stadium we’ll be back tomorrow with a report on the location, over.”

With a click, the static humming through the radio ceased. Abby slid down the antenna and perched on some crates of ammunition.

“All good?” you asked, far more interested in the gun than Abby’s impending response.

“Well, the front knows our status, even if the stadium doesn’t.” She sighed and you heard a crack – knuckles, you’d assume.

“So they know we aren’t AWOL?” You wriggled the stock off the rifle and moved to loosen the pistol grip.

“Hopefully. The receiver sounded like a fucking dalek.” Heavy footsteps thudded against the concrete floor as Abby hopped off the crates. “The hell are you doing to that rifle?” Her tone was, to your annoyance, more irritated than inquisitive.

Biting back a witty remark, you continued to dissemble the rifle. “Salvaging the good parts,” you breathed out, re-angling the torch on your backpack for better lighting.

“Looks perfectly good to me. You can’t just tinker with good M16s like that, the fuck—”

“It wasn’t ‘perfectly good’.” Huffing, you continued your work. “The ejection port had melted. A case would get stuck and suddenly, whoop-de-doo, no more working rifle.” You shot her a tired look. “We’ve talked about you telling me how to do my job.”

“Couldn’t you just, I don’t know, replace the port?”

“How the flying fuck could I do that? Do you even know what an ejection port is?”

“Of course I fucking know what it is!”

“Then, pray tell, Anderson, how would I go about detaching part of the damn frame of the gun?” Flushed with anger, you tossed the gun to the floor, striding towards the woman who had managed to tick off your last nerve.

Said woman glared at you, hip cocked and huge arms crossed, biceps straining against the fabric of her… No, you’re pissed.

“I have put up with your arrogant bullshit all day.” Even though you were faced with a brick wall, you kept pressing forward until your feet were touching. Gripping onto her t-shirt, you tugged the fabric down and forced her to look you in the eye. “Tell me, how do you do it?”

“Do what?” Her tone was low with reserved frustration.

“Live with yourself, acting like a mythic bitch to everyone you meet?” Abby’s brow knitted, but she remained quiet. “Thinking you’re such a perfect survivalist that you fucking refuse to listen to anyone who has a shred more experience in something than you do.”

“I’m alive, aren’t I? That’s proof I know my shit.”

“I made my way to Seattle on my own, cross-country, without a little militia of Fireflies to help me. If I didn’t also know my shit, I wouldn’t fucking be here.” Pulse pounding in your ears, you tightened your fist around her top. Her eyes held a glint you couldn’t quite place.

“And walking head-first blindly through an uncleared QZ was peak survival instincts, huh? Gotcha.”

Rolling your eyes – she wouldn’t let that go, would she – you attempted to shove her backwards, to establish some power, but she gripped your wrist firmly. From the heat of her hand, you could tell her blood was boiling. “God, you’re insufferable. You tried to rile me up, of course I was fucking distracted.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, bitch.”

The words escaped before you could stop them.

Shit.

“You want me to fuck you?” Abby questioned lowly.

Now that wasn’t the response you expected. She took a step forward, and in your stupor you remained where you stood. Breath hitched in your throat, you allowed your eyes to wander to Abby’s lips. Invitingly pink in the lamplight and captured in a half-snarl, half-smirk.

Oh, how you so desperately wanted to wipe that snarky look off her face.

So you doubled-down.

“I don’t want to inflate your ego, Anderson,” you hissed, eyes glued to her mouth. “But you know you’re hot shit, even if you’re an ass.” Once more, you tried to push her back, only this time she snapped and pinned you between her and the ammunition crates. Grinning, you continued to push at her buttons. “Speaking of ass, I’ve caught you staring at mine on more than one occasion.”

“No more than you stare at my arms,” she pressed, holding your wrist in an unwavering grip against the cardboard behind you. Slowly, she edged her knee between your legs.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Abby.”

Roughly, those pink lips ensnared yours, and you sighed in relief, thinking for a fleeting moment she’d laugh in your face and deny you. You kissed her back with equal fervour, the faint sweetness of the canned peaches she had earlier dancing on your tongue. The power struggle was delicious, the kiss a furious mess of teeth and tongues and tugging at each other’s lips like women starved. Her free hand pulled your hips flush against hers as yours threaded itself into her blonde hair – the only place that’d give you some leverage.

“If you pull my hair,” she growled against your lips. “I am absolutely going to fuck you.”

You pulled. Hard.

Grunting, Abby ground her knee upwards against your crotch none too gently. You parted your thighs to accommodate her strong leg, gasping at the initial friction. Using the hand on your hip, she guided you along the length of her thigh before rolling upwards, snapping your hips together. “You know, nothing pisses me off more than that high and mighty attitude of yours,” she emphasised with another rut, ripping a whimper from your lips. “Acting like you’re so fucking smart… I’ve always wondered that maybe if I fucked you dumb—” Two more wonderful rolls of her thigh against your core, enunciating her words. “—you’d finally shut up.”

Not wanting to relent to that fantasy, you bit back, “You’re that cocky, you think you could fuck me that good?”

A dark laugh escaped her lips, hot breath fanning your neck. “I wish I was packing right now. I’d turn you out so good you’d never want to walk again.” Eyes fluttering shut at the thought, you arched your neck, silently inviting her to do something with it.

Harshly, she sucked a mark into the column of your throat, earning another tug at her hair. “I think you’re all bark, no bite,” you breathed. A complete lie, of course; the bashful whispers from a lucky few women back at the stadium indicated she could very well deliver on all her talk. Retaliating, Abby brutally sank her teeth into the crook of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a deep mark.

“Oh, I can bite,” came the cocky reply, muffled against your skin.

The debauched part of your brain was having difficulties determining what you’d prefer: bruises or bitemarks. Abby’s lips on your neck was wonderful, the pressure almost intimate… But did you want intimacy? Or the sweet pain of her teeth?

Fuck it, you decided. You’d take whatever she wanted to give.

Abby ran her tongue over the bitemark, effectively shutting your brain off. “You’re all limp. I’ve hardly done anything yet.”

Suddenly invigorated, you yanked on her bun. The fingers gripping your hip dug in hard enough to bruise, making you wince. “And you say I talk too much,” you hissed as she groaned, neck forced to crane up, giving her easy access to your throat. She nipped at the flesh, rubbing warm circles into your hip: a duality of harsh and soft that muddled your thoughts. So frazzled that you didn’t register the hand restraining your wrist letting up to cup your waist, your hand remaining pinned to the cardboard of your own subconscious will.

“Cute,” Abby muttered, the gesture not going amiss.

“Ugh, shut it,” you rolled your eyes, moving your leg to give her a light kick, instead losing your balance and sliding down her thigh, the abrupt friction making you shudder and Abby smirk. “Is this what you pictured when you thought about fucking me? Grinding against a wall like teenagers?”

“Why, you want something?” God, your hips fit so snugly together. “Tell me. Use your words.”

“Are you always such an ass to the people you sleep with?”

“Do you want me to be an ass?” A sound of protest left you. “Then tell me,” she growled, rocking upwards.

“I made a shitty bed over there.” You cocked your head over to the flattened forklift seat. “Take me to it.” For one cursed second, you thought about adding a ‘please’ to your demand…no. That’d dent your pride irreparably.

Wordlessly, Abby hiked your thighs around her waist and lifted you, headed to the ‘bed’, without so much as a pant or a bead of sweat. Admiring her strength from a distance was one thing, but feeling it? This you could get used to. You didn’t have time to wrap your legs around her before she reached it, easing you down onto your feet.

Her hands were toying with the hem of your shirt soon after. “Take it off,” you urged, raising your arms so she could pull it over your head. Abby drank in the sight of you flushed and bra-clad while you fiddled with the zip of your cargo pants. It, with some effort, managed to unzip halfway, refusing to budge any further. Biting your lip in frustration, you gave the metal a tug. “It’s stuck,” you muttered.

Abby raised her brow, bemused. “You need help there?”

“If you’d be ever so fucking kind.”

Smirking, she dipped her hands down to the zip, then grabbed the fabric either side of it. Biceps bulging, she tugged on the fabric roughly until the seams started to rip. “There we go,” she grunted, and with a second tug the garment was torn open to ruin. Eyes wide, you committed the sight to memory: strong hands flexing around the material, veins in her forearms threatening to pop out, the seam of her sleeves all but bursting, jaw clenched in determination.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, awestruck.

Lowering to a crouch, Abby pulled your pants down all the way, rough fingertips trailing across your legs on the way back up. She hotly kissed your abdomen, following up with a nip. “I hate how beautiful you are,” she murmured, tone devoid of any genuine resentment, clouded by lust. Her eyes were half-lidded as she rose, lips millimetres away from your flesh, dipping back to kiss just below your bra. “I hate how you manage to get on every single one of my nerves, but look so god damn pretty doing so.”

That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

“Seriously?” Her long lashes fluttered up, revealing cornflower eyes that held…softness?

“Shit, I said that out loud?” you spluttered. Panicked not by your admission, but by that look. It was dangerous. You wished she’d look at you with it more often. “Forget about it,” you dismissed, trying to repress that feeling somewhere so deep it couldn’t resurface.

In silent understanding, Abby rose to her full height, taking her own shirt with her. If her arms weren’t formidable enough, her torso only further paid tribute to her gruelling years at the gym, littered with freckles and scars and chiselled muscle. You took your time admiring the woman in front of you, eyes dancing over abs defined enough to sharpen knives, small and firm looking breasts beneath her thin grey sports bra, up to those broad shoulders meant for ploughing through infected and digging nails into. The sight filled you with a hunger almost intense enough to offset your emotional longing…

Almost.

“You still wanna do this?” Abby asked, tenderly tilting your chin up to look her in the eye.

Needing this side of her to disappear, purely to give you back some control over your thoughts, you decided to rile her up. Grinning, you hooked your leg around her ankle and kicked her foot out from underneath her, attempting to knock her off-balance. Being more experienced in combat, though, Abby was quick to turn the tables. Within seconds your back was colliding with the makeshift bed, arms pinned above your head by one of her broad hands. In hindsight, not your cleverest manoeuvre, but one that rendered you in a compromising enough position for your next words:

“Fuck me, Abby.”

Wolfish, Abby straddled one of your legs and hitched the other thigh around her hips, maintaining an iron grip around your wrists. “How do you want me?” she asked, voice intoxicatingly husky. “Words, or I’ll leave you horny all by yourself.”

A whimper escaped at the thought. “However you know best,” you whispered back, trying to muster some bite to no avail.

Smirk returning, Abby brought her free hand to her mouth and spat on her fingers. Your stomach fluttered in anticipation as she slipped her hand under your panties, experimentally dragging a finger across your folds. “Shit, you’re soaked,” she marvelled. “A little grinding and you’re this wet?” You chased her fingers with your hips as she languidly caressed you, far too impatient to be teased. Flinching when Abby finally circled your clit, you arched your back into her, sighing breathily.

“This isn’t fucking,” you whined.

“I’m pretty sure this counts as fucking,” she chuckled, gaze fixated on your panties soaking through.

“You said you wanted to fuck me stupid, right?” Her eyes snapped back to yours, darker, interest piqued. She laughed to herself, as if replaying an old fantasy in her head.

With sudden ferocity, Abby began to rub circles over you, fingers sweeping fast and rough over your folds and clit. Moaning, you let your head fall back onto the sorry excuse for a mattress below. She was methodical, knowing exactly how to adjust her wrist and hit every pleasurable nerve. The combination of your slick and her spit filled the warehouse with filthy sounds, your own lascivious whines adding to the cacophony. Abby’s brutal pace never slowed, not for a second. “Feels good, right?” she cooed.

“Fuck,” you moaned, digging your leg into her back.

“You sound so pretty getting fucked.” All you could do was buck into her ministrations. The debauched praise made you impossibly wetter. If she kept this up, you wouldn’t last long at all, and that’d only further inflate her ego.

Hips twitching, you tried to squirm away from the intensity of her caresses, but Abby didn’t relent her nasty rhythm. “Gonna cum?” she murmured, smirking as your chest heaved with laboured breaths. It was frightening: no one had ever sent you spiralling towards your climax so quickly. You couldn’t even nod, simply moaning and succumbing to the tightening in your stomach. “Cat got your tongue, huh?”

“Abby,” you whispered, eyes closing as you panted and chased that peak.

“That’s it, babygirl, almost there,” she purred. Slick poured from you at the nickname; if you weren’t on the brink of orgasm you’d have cursed yourself for liking it.

“That feels – fuck – so good,” you cried, toes curling, hands scrambling to hold onto anything. “I wanna…fuck—!”

Abby slid the hand on your wrists up, allowing you to hold it for dear life, the intimacy of the gesture vaguely registering in the back of your mind. “Cum, baby,” she whispered, heavy with want.

Crying out, your whole body shuddered as you came, hips undulating in broken waves as Abby’s pace slowed to ride it out. Eyes lolling open, you looked up at her, expecting to find a smug expression plastered on her face. Instead, you found a mouth parted with awe, eyes soft and half-lidded.

Panting, you admired the beauty staring down at you. Golden skin and hair – a few stray stands tickling your face – a plethora of delicate freckles, and those kaleidoscopic pools of blue.

Your eyes met, and all of the tenderness in her eyes disappeared, replaced with a flicker of panic. Her mouth hardened into the smirk from earlier. She detangled her hand from yours. Severing your eye contact, she leant down and asked, forcing a gruffness, “More?”

Deluding yourselves into thinking this was nothing more than a one-time, angry fuck.

Hands finally free, you pulled her flush to you and delved your fingers into her hair, giving it a firm tug, knowing it’s a pain she enjoyed. “I’m still talking, right?” you taunted into her ear as she suckled on your neck, moaning into your skin. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound.

“About time I fix that,” she muttered, gliding her slick-soaked middle finger into your core. The intrusion evoked a gasp, sensitivity from your orgasm prickling your nerves. Abby’s ring finger filled you after a couple of testing pumps, both fingers sinking in all the way to the knuckle. Fully sheathed inside you, Abby glanced up from your neck. “Want me to go slow?”

Yes, please. “Rough,” is what you found yourself replying, because you despised each other, right?

Abby didn’t move an inch.

“Fuck it,” she breathed out, brow knitting. “Let’s just stop bullshitting each other, yeah?”

There it was again. That softness.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Just…not too slow, okay? I’m not made of glass.”

“I know that much, trust me.”

“And I really liked it when you called me ‘baby’ before.”

“Any other demands?” Abby joked, a genuine smile across her lips.

“Kiss me.”

Her lips were on yours in a heartbeat, firm but passionate, pent up frustration long-gone.

This time, you savoured her instead of devouring her. You massaged her scalp instead of yanking her hair. You relaxed into her weight instead of pushing against it. Free hand roaming the muscular expanse of her back, you took the time to map each scar into memory.

Abby pulled back from your lips first, earning an annoyed whimper from you. Said whimper swiftly blossomed into a moan when she gently thrusted the fingers still nestled inside you, rocking them upwards. “I needed to hear you,” she confessed, crooking her digits, dragging the pads of her fingers along your inner walls with a hum of concentration. You were about to plead for her to speed up when she applied delightful pressure to one spot within. A sharp gasp was ripped from your lips and you dug your nails into her back. “There we go,” Abby chuckled.

Deep and slow, she fucked into you, ensuring you felt every cell of her fingers against you, curled so she hit that spot with each thrust. Ripples of pleasure struck your core, mewls flying from your throat faster than you could stifle them. “How’s that feel, baby?”

“Cocky little shit,” you breathed, writhing at the particularly deep thrust you received in response. “Fuck, that was good.”

“Yeah?” Abby repeated the motion, rolling her hips in time with her fingers, fucking you that much deeper. The carnality itself was enough to render you dizzy. She grunted with each rut, losing herself to the exertion, the sensation of you clenching around her, the sting of your nails in her back and hair. All you could do was moan and heave as you drew close, giving Abby the pretty sounds she craved.

“Don’t stop, please,” you pleaded, legs tightening around her.

“Never, babygirl,” she groaned between thrusts, watching your face contort into a blissed out, flushed mess. “Not until you cum on my fingers.”

“Please, Abby—”

“I’ve got you.”

Violently, you arched up into Abby’s frame as an earth-shattering climax took you by storm. Mumbling a string of profanities with her name peppered in, you pulsed around her digits, flooding her hand with slick. All the while she watched you, still knuckle-deep, like you were the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

In a post-orgasmic haze, you murmured, “Sorry about your back.”

Abby laughed. “It can take a few more scratches.”

You rolled your eyes half-heartedly. “You’re insufferable.”

Carefully, Abby withdrew her fingers from your heat, propping herself up between your thighs. A thin sheen of sweat coated her abs and arms, her hair was a mess in its bun, and her cargo pants sat lopsided on her hips. As if the sight wasn’t delectable enough, Abby brought her fingers to her lips and sucked them clean, sending a pang of arousal through you.

“Stop being attractive for a second, okay?” you groaned into your arm, the wonderful image burned into your mind.

With your thighs parted, Abby could see just the effect her action had on you, smirking at the fresh trickle of desire escaping your core, clit hard and begging for a skilled tongue.

“Hey, you think you got one more in you?”

-----

“‘One more’, my ass,” you panted against Abby’s chest, tucked into the crook of her arm on the forklift-mattress, legs about as sturdy as a house of cards. She wiped her mouth and chin clean with her long since discarded shirt, drumming her fingers on your waist. “And you ripped my pants.”

“You know, for someone so good at complaining, I didn’t hear a single—”

“Ugh, you’re a dick.”

“Yeah, about that.”

You looked up at her, taking a deep breath. Emotions, here we go.

“Look, we both know I’m a shitty person. I do shitty things and—”

“You’re not a bad person, Abby,” you murmured. “You’re not a good person, but you’re sure as hell not a bad one.”

“If…you say so,” she frowned. “Still, I just wanted to say…” Abby ran a hand through her messy hair and took a breath. You didn’t rush her. “I’ve always had a lot of respect for you. Yeah, I’ve been an ass, and that comment I made earlier about your position was nothing but spite. I just—” Smiling, you gave her hand a squeeze. “—I have control issues, and I’m stubborn as shit. It’s not an excuse, I just figured you’d want to know why I’ve been a major dick.”

“We’ve all got our issues, Abby. I, too – as you’ve probably guessed – am stubborn as shit.” Abby chuckled, running her thumb across your knuckles. “Forgive the armchair psychology, but it’s habits like that that’ve kept you alive in the past, so they’re hard to break,” you sighed. “Doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“One of the many reasons I respect you,” Abby muttered. “You somehow put up with my shit.”

“And I’m willing to,” you hesitantly put forth. “If, you know, you want this to be more than a one-time thing. I don’t just mean the sex, the talking as well.” You closed your eyes, anxiously awaiting a response.

“As long as it’s exclusive…” Abby gently brushed some stray hairs from your forehead. Your heart lept.

“…I’d like that.”

#god help me this is going to be grammatically shite #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson #smut