#apologies from the intercom

[ptanalo]

[etargus]

— new discovery,

just in time before disability pride month ends, this beautiful commission of archer by @cowsabungus got finished today! ✨ i love all the little details they put into their wheelchair, they did amazingly with the ideas i gave them. archer's expression especially makes me so happy, tysm for the amazing piece! 💕

[screampied]

❝ HELL ON HEELS . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. it's your third day on the job as a flight attendant. you work around a lot of snobby rich elites, but a particular one catches your eye. a particular one who tips you $300 dollars in cash and wants way more than just your uninvited attention.

wc. 6.5k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, this is how gojo and reader meet, mile high club trope, flight attendant reader, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public sēx, praise kink, degradation, dry humping, squırting, spanking, edging.

an. thank u to everyone who voted for this on the poll <3

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

the low-pitched whirring of the plane’s engine was quite loud. white noise could be heard through first class as you walked alongside the aisle. with a heavy sigh, you’d just wish the day would be over. the overall duration of the flight was about a good two hours, not too bad but you were already over it. dealing with haughty a-list celebrities or elites as a whole wasn’t for the weak. a majority of them were rude, snobby, and just stuck up individuals. except for one . .

as thick pieces of rubber stick against your heels and clank against the carbon fibre floor, you sashay through and from the rows before a cheeky voice calls over to you. “excuseee me, miss ‘ttendant,” and you crane your neck to where it was coming from. sat right by the window near the left— draped in nothing but a sable-black tuxedo with a pricey g-shock wrapping around his wrist, he simpers. “do you ahh, mind if you . . ?”

“huh,” you quirk your eyebrows into a brow before he nods his head up toward the cabin compartment above all of the seats. “oh,” you give him a soft smile. he takes a quick glance at your name tag that’s glued on the left side of your blazer. you lean over against him, reaching towards the latch to pull it down. the more you get close to him, the more you smell his cologne. it’s so strong, you were sure it was some kind of expensive designer brand. a small grunt leaves your lips as you stretch before just when you’re about to pry open the cabinet, the plane grumbles with a rude shake. a rude shake in which you fall—right onto the older man’s lap who’s got the smuggest grin.

“we’re experiencing a bit of turbulence up here, sincerest apologizes passengers..”

the pilot mutters through the intercom— it’s blaring through the speakers. he talks for about seven seconds, as well as reminding for everyone to have their seatbelts on at all times before he stops.

as if things couldn’t have been anymore embarrassing, your face lands right into his crotch. “oh my god—i’m so sorry sir,” you try to atone, sitting up and as you’re up so close to him, you take a moment to actually get a good glimpse at the man.

he was pretty, simply no denying it. you knew him from anywhere. gojo satoru, the gojo satoru. the snowy white hair was a dead giveaway.

he was more of a well known business man—a ceo of some hot shot company. he had his own clothing brand, does lots of men photoshoots, and even modeled a bit in his early twenties. although, the more you gawk at him, the more it seems like he barely even aged. gojo looks like he was still in his twenties, he had a bit of a stubble but was quite really well shaved. azul-blue eyes return the stare right back at you as you take in his prepossessing features for just a bit longer.

god, he was handsome.

gojo’s hair was neatly neat, a simple slick back of a sort with a few strands of white hair running down his face. he brings a wrist up to his face to rub his mouth before covertly humming. “. . oh, am i that good lookin’, princess?”

you gulp once he catches you staring, and then it hits you again,

you were still dumbly laid on his lap as he’s gazing into your eyes with the most complacent grin. “i-i’m sorry,” you mumble, cringing at your own stutter. thankfully, it was probably about four am, it was a private jet and only a few other passengers scattered around the sectioned row. sitting up, you rub your neck sheepishly before sighing. “i . . don’t usually fall on passengers during on my shifts.”

“heh well i’d hope not,” he teases. “oh, and don’t worry about getting my luggage by the way,” and his eyes trail you down before he glances at your name tag again. “hm, i think i’d like to request something else though,” and the more you stare into his pretty cerulean eyes, the more you get lost in them.

his eyes were equivalent to a maze, you’re always getting lost in his pretty irises—never finding your way out. “you’re probably all sore from walkin’ around in those heels, how ‘bout you take a little break?”

and he was right. the entire lower parts of your calves were a bit sore, so you do. you take a break . . although,

your 'break' mainly consists of you being hunched over, propped up in front of gojo’s seat with him eating you out from behind like a starved man. your bottom lip feels all numb and puffed from chewing on it for so long. your lips part into an exaggerated ‘o’ as your head’s repeatedly being pressed against the back of the airplane seat in front of you. the softly made material rubs against your face and you moan. some older woman was snoring in the front of it, headphones plugged in both sides of her ears.

thank god, you prayed whatever heavy metal track she was listening to would distract her slumber from hearing your loud, whiny moans.

alas again, by ‘break’, you didn’t expect this but you weren’t exactly complaining either. with gojo’s tongue rummaging against your clit, it had you gasping for desperate various breaths. “s-sirrrr,” you whimper, a lewd smile pursing against your lips. two broad hands of his had your jade-colored business skirt pulled up all the way to the very hem of your torso— just about reaching near your now wrinkled blazer. as you sling an arm over the seat in front of you, you whine once his nose prods against your soddened entrance. “ngh, ‘m gettin’ close again i think. f-fuck, right there.”

“please, call me satoru, baby,” he whispers against your pussy. you shudder from the coldness of his breath aerating against your bare skin—you whine once his palm swats by your right ass cheek, giving it a mean spank. “ooh,” he coos from the recoil of your rear. so pretty, it was quite funny how things even escalated so quickly.

right before he was buried into the depths of your plush thighs, you were just chatting with him. gojo had a charm to him. he was a lot different from the other stuck up elites you occasionally dealt with. he was quite easy to talk to. you make it a habit to talk to each passenger, despite how snobby they might come across anyway.

with him though, he was a pure smooth talker.

gojo showered you with a plethora of compliments. it came natural, it didn’t seem forced—he’d point out your pretty eye color, your hair, just anything. with your job, you were used to getting a few compliments here and there—but he’d go all out, all out in a way where it makes your heart flutter and fly. you’re rutting your ass against his face, loving the way his wet tongue curls into a few alphabetic letters. he’s just filthy. each breath that escapes from your lips as if it was being held captive felt like it was gonna be its last.

“so . . fuckin’ sweet,” he purrs, dragging a thumb down your slit for a moment. gojo takes a second to admire the way you easily soak in his digit, such a breathtaking sight inside. lewd, but breathtaking. “mhm, look at her givin’ me a little show. move your ass against my face a little more, sweetheart. yeah, fuck.”

your heart does jumping jacks at his dialogue. his voice was deep, rich—and seductive.

the silvery band of his watch continues to skim all across your skin as your hips judder. you shiver, feeling yourself about to reach your inevitable orgasmic peak before you moan out loud. you tried to suppress your noises, you did—but it was no use. you’re already biting at your hardened knuckles but oh, his tongue.

every few seconds, he’d break away to spit and slobber on your pussy. his nose consistently smears all against your folds, getting you ten times more wetter than you already were. he’s nasty, making sure you keep that arch for him. your skirt was pulled up and all wrinkled. the teeth-shattering stimulation makes you feel nerves surge all throughout your body like galvanic electricity.

“s- satoruuu.” you’d huff out in tiny pants, feeling your tummy cave in a few times. your sweet moan, its like a tune—a harmony, hell, it was melodic. he’d listen to you whine his name like that all day if he could. a gentle hand of his runs down your twitching leg, giving every part of your body from behind attention.

he was starting to get addicted, you were too sweet . . candied even, it was dangerous. he’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth anyways and perhaps you were his new favorite treat.

the raving pace of his tongue was simply relentless. you’re gripping onto the back of the seat for dear life, barely able to keep up with him.

ethereal ivory lashes of his open and close every millisecond that passes. it’s as if time was going slow for you— of course it was though, considering how you were thousands of feet in the air. you don’t know why, but the thought of someone just walking by and stumbling upon you all bent over for a passenger,

not just a passenger but the gojo satoru . .

you’d be lying a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on a bit. you knew it was against policy to screw on the job, in the air at that, but it was the middle of the night and partly everyone onboard was asleep anyway. having some affluent attractive guy right between your thighs, you were living the dream. you thought this only happened in the movies.

“aw, don’t give up on me just yet, pretty,” he soothes a tune against your cunt. after a while, gojo’s speedy flicking of his tongue transitioning to pure sucks. you’re shaking within the suction of his mouth. it’s almost too much to bare yet you didn’t want him to stop. he knows just the right tempo to make you roll your eyes back too. with prying hands, gojo’s spreading open your ass a bit more to lick a deeper area with his tongue. you zealously whine once he playfully uses a thumb to poke against your puckering hole. “mhm, yeah. thaaaat’s it, but don’t be so loud though, princess. i know we’re in the back row but still, heh.”

and with that— he gifts your ass another smack. he proudly relishes in your lewd, pornographic reactions. you’re an entire mess and he’s slurping your fervor shamelessly.

“s- satoruuuu, fuck f-fuck,” your breathing starts to significantly pick up. with your chest continuing to sink in and out, he briefly sneaks his dampened lips away from your entrance to bite near your thighs. the way you were shaking to him was just so cute. the white noise that continues to sing and reverb throughout the plane’s structure grew louder. or . . that was just the ringing through your ears—regardless, it was between that noise and the sounds of your own obscene pleasure that had a competition. a competition on who could be the most louder. your name-tag that’s still pressed against your blazer remains to rub off against the fabric of the seat in front of you.

your perked nipples snag in the process as you’re arching a bit more before a wail dies out your throat. “i- i’m gonna cu— oh!”

“another few hits of turbulence, folks. please stay in your seatbelts. time of arrival should be around six thirty am..”

you bring a hand over your mouth in a cute attempt to silence yourself as you’re meeting your high—listening to the pilot, you sob out a squeal from the inside of your palm. gojo’s slurping you up again with his tongue, your grinding against his face makes him chuckle. with his jaw tightening a bit, he doesn’t care—you were so sweet, he could eat you out all day. not to mention, he was quite thirsty. instead of having you retrieve one of his bags, he was gonna originally ask for a glass of water. but this quenched his thirst a lot better in his humblest opinion. his warm breath fans against your cunt all the while you feel his stubble tickle near the undersides of your thighs. “mmph.” you moan, peeking in front of you to still see the old lady knocked out cold. with the way you were rocking into the back of her seat— you were surprised she didn’t wake up. you were glad she didn’t though. otherwise, you’d embarrass yourself yet again.

with your orgasm still having its moment, you start to calm down a bit. he’s still slithering his tongue down your folds, savoring your taste as if it’s the last thing on the planet. his chin was coated with all of your slick, and he snickers before dragging a thumb to get another taste. “good girl. give it to me, ride my—ride my tongue, uh huhhh.”

a swarm of butterflies wanders around inside of your tummy from his words—his tone, it was so soft yet the dialogue that spoke out was just downright dirty. you pulse between your thighs and it only makes you crave him more.

as you’re still arched over in front of him, you take a few hard gulps to swallow as you’re finishing your perfect nirvana state. ecstasy, just ecstasy overtakes your entire body as he gives your pussy it’s final sucks and nibbles. once he finishes, he’s still sat in his chair. spinning you around, he gives you a warm smile.

“c’mere, sweetheart..”

out of breath and pants snatching out of your full lungs with ease—you move into him with your eyes half-lidded. “. . . atta girl, taste how sweet you are. gimme a kiss,” and you get on top of him. sliding off your heels, you get onto gojo’s lap. now straddling him, you lean into a steamy, hot kiss. two hefty built arms of his wrap around your waist, pulling you in close. once your lips meet, it’s just utterly sloppy.

throwing your arms around him and tugging on his tucked out collar, you deepen the kiss. he groans at your enthusiasm, allowing his hands to glide against every inch of your body. gojo’s fingertips dance against the pieces of clothing you wore, despite it being so few. your blazer was still on and yet couldn’t help but rock against his lap as your tongue parts inside of his mouth. gojo’s head leans back as you’re enjoying yourself. but all of a sudden, you moan once you feel it. 

his boner, right in the middle part of his pants. gojo satoru was hard—hard for you.

he grunts lowly, a hand of his snaking up your leg as you taste the sweet remnants of your own flavor on his tongue. the closer you are to him, the closer you get a nice everlasting sniff of his cologne. so manly, it’s a rich scent that you could never get enough of. it was so strong—roaming through the air so much that it almost gave you a headache. 

“fuck,” he sibilates. a single hissing word that comes from his mouth makes you throb oh so easily. you’re swaying your hips against him and his adam’s apple bobs back in rapture. every few seconds, he pulls away to leave a wet slope of kisses down your neck. a hand of yours tugs against his tie that was neatly worn on him. “damn girl you’re kinda kinky,” and he finally pulls away, teasingly biting on your bottom lip before finally departing. “i’m startin’ to like you.”

“more,” you murmur, leaning in to nip a wet kiss of your own near the crooked crevices of his mouth. naturally parted lips of his twitch, causing him to wryly smile back at you. “i need more, sir. we have a few more hours left. please.”

“baby, you can call me satoru. cut the formal shit yeah?” and his voice was a pitchy low, an almost rasp hidden underneath. a hand of his gently grabs your chin and you’re met with the most prettiest eyes. if it wasn’t his long lashes, it was his celestially blue eyes. so blue that it was as if you were star gazing at a summer sky. gojo satoru a pretty man, no doubt. he hums to himself in amusement at your cute doe-eyed expression, hungry for more. sitting on his boner was already torture enough, you just wanted him inside. 

sure, you were technically working but you didn’t care about that. “satoruuuu,” he’s being playful, a thumb still pulling down your bottom lip. as you’re both maintaining such intimate eye contact, his voice softens once more. gojo’s hand slides its way between your thighs before he raises a brow in a taunting manner. “what do you want satoru to do to you? tell me, girl.”

“t- touch me.” you almost whine out, it yanks out from your throat so pathetically. the throbbing you were feeling behind your panties only turned into straight convulses. 

playfully, he tilts his head with a smile. “yeah? touch ya where.”

“i gotta spell it out for you?” you pout, and he chuckles at your frustrated attitude. you start to jerk your hips against his lap and he holds your waist in place to bring those movements to a stop. “f-fuck, ‘s hard.”

stroking a thumb against your quivering lips, his minty breath hits against your nose—you smell it and it’s minty fresh. a scent of what seemed to be some kind of tangy beverage and a gum like substance. with a mocking tone, he presses a kiss against your nose before jibing. “i just wanna know where ‘m gonna put my hands on this pretty body. that’s all,” and his voice was so smooth, an almost purr. with a chortle, he moves a few strands of hair out of your view of sight before continuing his words. “now now, i’ll ask again, pretty. where do ya want me to touch you? let’s be descriptive this time.”

“between my t-thighs,” you confess, already soaked from him devouring your pussy just merely seconds ago. the shocking friction between both bodies had you feral, had you dizzy, had you stupid.

gojo gradually brings a hand down before you press a hand against his chest, pouting again. “actually, i want you to fuck me. please, satoru.”

“there we go, good girl. ‘n heh, aw i figured,” he cheeses, licking a single stripe up your neck. “mhm, you’ll have to ride me though. ‘s only so many positions you can do on a plane, heh.”

you barely let him finish your sentence before you start to unbuckle his pants. you’re so quick with it. gojo stares at the way you’re so desperate, taking it off the tiny hooks before yanking his belt all the way off. seconds later, you’re pulling down his pants toward his ankles. “ooh,” his eyes flicker towards your chest as you start to align yourself against his lap. you take a moment to stare at his now exposed cock and it was so pretty. lengthy if anything, a leaky mushroom like tip that was a bit reddened. he was so hard too, just gawking at his heavyset bulge that had you almost drooling. gojo leans back, rubbing against his thigh before flashing you a cheesy smile. “wellllll,” he sings. “don’t be shy girl. get on up here. ride all that stress away from work, pretty thing.”

he was so cocky, yet you were so needy. 

as you’re still aligning him, your damp entrance rubs off against the head of his tip. it’s peeling open a bit, the skin that attaches to the frenulum was just so mesmerizing to look at. it’s got a pinkish color, almost red. shortly following, a mere tannish color flushes on his cock near the base down. you moan once he grabs ahold of his length, helping you adjust. 

“easy . . easy baby, i gotcha,” he sighs, feeling your warmth slowly swallow him whole. those short seconds you spend taking in gojo’s dick feels like long, consecutive hours.

you’re dripping wet. as you straddle his lap, preparing to ride him, he slouches back in such a sexy way. manspread—gojo grunts out a single breath as his chest deflates. shifting his gaze towards your cunt, he spreads open your folds to get a better view. “ughhh, look at how she opens up for me. ‘s fuckin’ nasty,” he groans, staring dead at your cunt. you were indeed coating him with your slick from the base down. “give it to me, upside daisey, yeah.”

you’re taking his inches as the seconds go by before after a while—you plop down, feeling him bottom out already. gojo moans, gifting your ass with another spank. “f-fuck ‘toru,” you hiss, knowing that was a non-verbal sign for you to start up your hips. a cooling air that passes through the plane sets against your skin as you move. you whine, feeling his hands trickle alongside the secretive edges of your thighs. “touch me more, l- like that.”

“i don’t remember saying you could tell me what to do,” he meets your eyes as you start to thrust forward. he’s got the most impish grin stretching against his lips. gojo grips your chin for what was probably the nth time within this hour before he grins. “nuh uh, don’t look away. i wanna see those gorgeous eyes,” and he sneaks another wet kiss against your mouth. “ride it like you own it baby.”

you start off realllll slow, 

sashaying your hips up and down against his lap in the most alluring way. all six eyes were on you and only you..

your arms still wrap around him and he’s keeping eye contact with you the entire time. with your blazer practically ruffled and wrinkled, you continue to move yourself against him. gojo’s cock stretches you out in such a way you didn’t even know was possible. your walls craved him, you craved him.

as he leans further back, a hand’s still glued to your ass before he smacks it . . again.

he pats it afterwards, watching a cute sour expression slowly marinate against your facial features. 

gojo giggles at your cute noises, it doesn’t take long before you bury your face into the crook of his neck, gnawing your teeth against his collared shirt. “f-fuck, satoru,” you’d whine out, feeling his grip tighten against your ass. his cologne’s got your head spinning like a merri-go-round, giving you whiplash in all the right ways. “s-so big, stretchin’ me.”

“takin’ it so good, baby,” he licks against the lobe of your ear.  his breath against your neck was warm—not so cold anymore. two rough hands grasp onto your active hips, encouraging you to go more forward, more faster. “good girl, mhm, fuck me like that. use those hips for me, yeahh.”

his dick curves through every part of your walls as if it’s exploring. you feel him reach deep within every part and it’s driving you toward the first street of crazy.

breathy pants skate out from your lips as you’re swinging yourself back and forth against him. “s-satoru,” you whimper, feeling his hands continue to feel against the bare bottom parts of your ass. you could feel the bands of rings he wore rub off against your skin also, so fridgly cold. “f-fuck, ‘s good. mhm, fuck.”

“you’re so pretty,” he groans, the brief sounds of skin slapping resounding through your ears. it’s loud, almost sonorous.

his hair was getting a bit ruffled and unkempt, adding to his suave, mature features.

as he looks off into the nearly empty dim lit aisle, a silhouette appears—someone’s coming. it’s a familiar sound of heels hitting against the floor and you were too occupied of being horny to turn your head. at first, you barely even notice as you’re still grinding against his lap. “oh shit,” gojo gasps, grabbing the sides of your hips, suddenly bringing you to a stop. with a sly smile, he hums against your ear. “baby, don’t freak but i think your co-worker’s coming.”

“w- what?” you murmur, and he makes you spin around, still having his heavy cock hidden into the swollen depths of your cunt. glancing up, it was one of your co-workers coming. in a weak attempt to fix your nearly messed up blazer that was about to pop, you lean against his chest. “who— where?”

as he’s pressed right up against you, you’re met with a playful deep voice against your ear. “relax. act like you’re totally not cockwarming me, obviously,” and he runs a few fingers down your uniform, feeling you shift your hips a bit at his touch. gojo tries to make it look like you were just sitting on his lap, moving a cover over you and him from the waist down. you feel so full, you were growing more and more needy, a pout comes onto your lips because you didn’t want to stop so abruptly. you just wanted to keep riding him, but of course—you were working. “play it cool, baby.”

“um, is everything okay?” one of your fellow co-worker flight attendants, serena murmurs.

with a furrowing brow, she takes in the sight in front of her. you, happily straddling a passenger's lap whilst you’re heaving as if you’d just finish a 5k race. “we’ve been some getting complaints about noises. also, you need to restock the snacks near back. we’re runnin’ low on peanuts.”

“y-yeah, ‘m fine,” you sheepishly nod, knowing how fishy this entire scene might have looked. gojo’s dick was just idly enshrouded into your cunt, just one move and you’d be fucked. technically, you already were fucked. he’s tracing a finger against your thighs before you exhale. “but uh— can’t you restock?”

“i would but that’s not my job,” she snaps with an eye roll. gojo chortles at your co-worker’s attitude, he presses a single kiss against your neck and you almost moan. her facial expressions twist in disgust before she backs away. “anyways, just go restock,” and as she twists her heels to walk away, she utters under her breath. “weirdos. i don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

gojo lets out a breathy laugh as you finally moan again—it’s taking everything out of you and you start up the jolting of your hips again. “f-fuck, ‘m close, ‘toru,” you whimper, the friction feeling like hot static dragging against your legs. “mhm, ‘s good.”

“you’re even more dirtier than i thought, princess,” he whispers, a hand playfully wrapping around your throat as you’re moving your hips back. “i bet your co-worker put two ‘n two together. you could have been a little more believable.”

you’re moaning, his touch sending you more deadly shivers before you feel a coil within you squeeze shut tight. the beat of your heat grows rapid and your pupils dilate from pure pleasurable lust. you’re getting close again, it’s coming so quick that you barely have any time to breathe.

his aromatic cologne nearly blinds your sinuses before you feel against his neck with your palm. “i . . i don’t care if she knows,” you mumble with a scowl, feeling his base continuously rub against your entrance. you’re coating him with nothing but a pretty viscous sheet of your slick. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again.”

“yeah? what if i want you to wait?” he purrs, his sloping trail of kisses turning into sucks. you whine, leaning into his touch as he’s stuffing your insides full of thick cock. jello—your legs felt like jello, barely even able to move. the warmth against him had you hungry for more. it was addictive, you didn’t know what it was. you didn’t get like this for any other passenger, yet here you were. your mouth croons open, whining out a single harmony at his pace. he’s still making you grind back against him, the tempo having your head going for a spin every time. “what if i want you to be a good attendant ‘n wait just a bit longer f’me?”

“but—”

“nuh uh,” he snickers, bringing a smack to your ass. “wait for me, pretty. this pussy’s gonna make a mess when i want her to.”

and he creeps a hand down between your jittery legs, rubbing a few circles against your already sopping wet cunt. a gasp wretches from your throat as you’re laid back against his chest. the rugged fabric of his tuxedo top whisks against your skin and you’re babbling out sweet nothings.

“f-fuck, ‘m not gonna last,” you whine, feeling yourself throb at the way his thumb brushes against your throat. he’s feeling the vibrations of your gruttural moans and it’s so cute. by this point, you’d already forgotten you were thirty thousand feet in the air. thirty thousand feet in the air and you were getting your pussy destroyed by one of your passengers. 

not just any passenger though, 

gojo satoru. 

he’s panting right with you as you’re just bouncing on his lap, two soft padded hands gripping against his thighs. as you bite your lip, your ass thrashes back gainst him and he hisses. “just like that, pretty girl. shiiiiit, ‘m gonna cum too.”

with his deep penetrative thrusts, it’s got you going ditzy. as he starts to spank against your puffy cunt, he nibbles against your collarbone. “you wanna cum with me, yeah? ‘s that why you keep dragging y’r nails into my leg?”

“s—sir,” you desperately spat, but he spanks your cunt again so you could switch your words around. “ngh, i mean satoru. wanna cum with you, pleaseplease. ‘s good, want it, finish in me.”

“my, well when ya ask like that,” he hums, and you feel the sharpness of his hips pivot. gojo groans, standing up before he lies you back against the now reclined seat. “lie back, baby. actually, changed my mind. i wanna push those pretty knees up to your chest.” 

panting, you lie back against the now lounged seat. gojo flashes you that same sly grin before he lifts up your leg—bringing a sweet kiss toward your ankle. “you can lose your license over this, you know? dirty girl, lettin’ your pussy think for ya instead of that brain, huh?”

“don’t care,” you moan, watching him quickly align his cock against your slit. gojo grunts, feeling you easily swallow his tip up again. your cunt was clingy, he was very much addicted to your slippery sloppy core. with his pants halfway on and hanging down to his ankles, he starts up a rapid pace again. “uh, uh,” you whimper again and again, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist. you’re keeping him warm from the inside, raw moans pulling out of your esophagus like it was nothing. “right there, ‘m gonna cum, please. s-sir, fuck me.”

“satoru,” he corrects you, a hand gripping your chin. pretty blue eyes leer down at you and he’s so close to you. as he’s jackhammering his cock into your sobbing swollen walls—eyes of your own goggle into gojo’s as he’s fucking you silly. you probably look a mess from this view, the heel of your foot grazing down his strong back muscles. gojo hears the sloshing squelches your own pussy makes and you feel the sudden throb arise from his dick. he twitches inside you and it makes his head throw back. after he gains composure again, he exhales deeply, tapping a thumb against your sealed lips.“you don’t gotta be formal when ‘m inside, princess,” and he squeezes your lips together, licking near the bottom. “open.”

you’re whining, his tempo growing quicker and you’re so close. crimson-carmine lips of his twitch into a feral smile once he sees you being so easy to comply. with your lips parting open, you tilt your head back before he spits into your mouth.

“theeeere’s your tip,” he teases, pursing your lips together with two fingers as you swallow. your cunt still gripping against him as he then pulls you into a deep kiss. with your legs clutching around his waist. “uh, manners baby. where’s my thank you?”

“t- thank you, ‘toru.” you breathe, feeling your cunt throb even quicker.

“oh, you’re welcome,” he smiles and he can’t help but giving you another kiss on the mouth shortly afterwards. the lustful stare he’s giving you could almost be described as lecherous has you more sopping wet by the second. with your legs tightly and securely keeping him from breaking away, he groans. right into your mouth, his tongue collides against yours before he sucks on it. as he brings you into a loving kiss again, gojo’s girth has you feeling a sudden arch in your back arise the moment you sit up. you’re being fucking into the reclined seat, his weight almost crushing against but it feels so good. “mhmmm, ‘m gonna cum. gonna spill so much inside of you, pretty.”

“don’t waste any,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around him. you didn’t even care how unprofessional this was. in the back of your mind, you’re thinking to yourself— if someone walked in again, who cares? not you. “please.”

“well aren’t you a doll,” gojo murmurs in a cooing tone, shoving your knees all the way up near your chest. you’re preparing yourself as you’re about to reach your final pleasurable demise. it feels almost tickling, the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kisses against that same spot within you. you’re whines sound almost melodic, not even caring if your pilot a few seats back heard. “look at me.” he taps your bottom shaking lip, leaning in to plant another kiss on your lips. one turns into two, then three, then four . .

and then— his phone rings.

you’re still a moaning mess, feeling your legs just about give out as he’s pressing such amounts of weight on top of you. gojo’s hands fondle with your neglected breasts that laid underneath your blazer. he groans, reaching for his phone near the counter of the seat. with a grunt, he answers. “tch. satoru gojo.”

still snugly shoved deep inside, he’s multitasking. one hand holds onto the left side of your waist, another holding his phone up against his cheek. he’s drilling into you so mercilessly as if his occupation was a construction worker. you whine, the scratching itch never leaving you. once it comes, it comes. “suguru, ‘m kinda busy. can this wai— oh f…fuck.”

in an abrupt gasp, he ends up finishing first. it’s so much. thick gooey spurts pour into your cunt, filling up the insides of your goopy womb. gojo’s peering down at you and his lip quivers. he finished a bit early. too quick, his hand shakes as he holds up his phone before you squeeze your legs against his torso even tighter. for a moment, he almost whines himself. the strong gripping grip your pussy has against makes him swear underneath his breath.

“huh? yeah, ‘m good,” he sexily whews, slowing his rhythm down a bit.

a hand of his snaps, making you look down between your legs.

he gives you a teasing grin and you spread your folds open. it was so much, so much velvety ropes of hot cum that ooze in and out of your sloppy folds. you’ve never felt more warm from the inside. it was a feeling that had your mouth watering, salivating with your sweet, syrupy saliva. your legs were practically mush, and once you finish, you end up gushing all out at once. it takes you by surprise more than anything. the feeling comes like a crashing, unpredictable wave, a fading fade then departures from your body. minutes eventually pass and gojo’s still yapping away on the phone—yet after a while, he decides to wrap it up and groan. “yeah yeah okay, man. i gotta go now. unless you wanna listen to how i sound post-orgasm, heh.”

“what—?”

with a quick bleep, gojo hangs up. tossing his phone aside, he looks down at you—cutely sprawled out whilst chills run down your body. he can almost see you palpitating from said chills. leaning up close to you, still balls deep, he pants heavily. gojo pressed a kiss against your right temple before teasing. “heyyy, did you just squirt on me?” he asks, and he speaks in a sly soft tone.

you don’t reply and he gives you a priggish smile. “you didddd. so nasty, i should make ya lick it off me.”

you did end up squirting. it was so much. so so much.

you’re still having your legs wrap around his waist before you grab onto his wide, stiff shoulders. “s-satoru,” you moan into his neck, getting yet another balmy whiff of his manly musk. “f-fuuuck, more.”

right before he could reply though— the intercom of the plane comes on and it’s the pilot.

“ladies and gentleman, we’ve made it to our destination. local time and time of arrival is six thirty-three am. for your own safety and others around you, please remain seated and keep the aisles cleared until i announce we’re at the airport gates. thank you.”

“aw, boo,” gojo laments, slowly pulling out of your pussy. a pout unfurls against your glossed lips as you feel suddenly empty. no more thick inches inside. the only thing you felt were the leftover masses of his cum spewing out of you. the seats were a mess, he brings a hand down to strum a few fingers against your entrance and you whine. so soaked, he gifts you with a kiss on your forehead before exhaling. “well, think it’s ‘bout time we part ways, gorgeous.”

gojo helps put back on your skirt and panties and you‘re just laid back with a cute scowl as he assists you off your feet. “i . . can’t walk like this,” and he chuckles at how stiff you were— a few droplets of his cum race down your thighs and you almost moan again. you’re still sensitive, throbbing near every inch of your body before he stands up. he’s so lean and tall. as gojo towers over you, you glance up at him and you’re met with that annoying flirtatious smirk he gave you when his eyes first laid on you. “my panties are practically ripped.”

he turns around to grab his suitcases above him from the cabinet and sighs.

zipping up his exposed fly, gojo leans in to kiss your forehead. “ah, well i can always buy you some more,” and then he pauses. “actually,” he grabs his wallet and your eyes widen once he gives you three hundred dollar bills. “i can buy you more than just panties if ya want, sweet thing,” he slides the bills in between your bra before pressing a kiss against your neck. “you’ve been such a good girl,” and he then hands you his business card. it displays his name and a cheesy saying near the front, all his information in bold blue letters too. before walking away with your bawled up underwear, he leans up to your ear for a final time and whispers, “remember though, it’s satoru gojo, baby. ah, and these panties—i’ll be keeping these as a souvenir.”

[notiddygothgf]

i.

★ pairings: dante (netflix dmc) x fem reader

★ summary: After a messy breakup with Dante and a year of silence, you've rebuilt your life from the ground up. Now, Dante's back, and one thing is clear — he's determined to make you his.

★ ❝ It's been exactly 365 since I've seen your face ❞

★ c.w.:dante being a little shit, suggestive content. not beta'd, reuploading bc it got taken down?

★ a/n:HIIIIIIIII!!!! okay so i put out a poll asking about how y'all would feel if i posted a dante fic, and omg. so many of you replied. so now here go ahead and take this shit!! damn!!! jk i want him so bad so yk i had to rush to get this done LMFAOOAOA. enjoy besties! if you're from around here, you know the drill. if not, please leave lots of comments, i love the spam and your praise gives me motivation to update quicker!!

★ w.c: 10k

pretty ; chapter index

YOU AND DANTE had a messy breakup. Contrary to how it may have seemed at the time of “The Argument” (as you had begun calling it), there was nothing sudden about it. It didn’t detonate like some sort of time bomb, but disintegrated rather slowly – like water trickling through the cracks in the cement, soft and patient, until one day everything just caved in.

It didn’t always feel that way.

When you had first met Dante, it was… effortless. (Some of which was the rose colored glasses’ doing, you were sure). He was cute as hell, first of all. He was funny, too. He had no problems laughing you right out of your panties on the first date, and… well, practically every night after that. He looked at you like you were everything to him – like a dream come true, like he couldn’t believe someone like you would actually have chosen him. You got along famously.

For a while, things stayed that way. Six months, in fact. Things were good. Simple. You’d wake up to his arms around you, his voice in your ear, calling you names that only sounded pretty falling from his lips – princess, babydoll, sweetheart. His stupid jokes – the ones that always used to make you crack a tired grin. He used to make time.

But, somewhere along the way, his job started taking more and more of him. Late nights began to bleed into early mornings. You’d wait up for him with leftovers gone cold and shows paused halfway through. At first, he apologized. Said he hated missing out on time with you. But then the apologies stopped, and so did the explanations. You’d go days without hearing from him. Sometimes weeks. You’d text—hey, you okay?, can you call when you're free?—and the replies would trickle in too late or not at all.

You tried to be understanding. People get busy, right? Life gets in the way. You told yourself that a strong relationship should be able to weather a few quiet days. But it was more than just quiet. It was absence. It was like he was slipping through your fingers and pretending he wasn’t.

And when you did talk, it was always surface-level. You’d try to tell him how it made you feel—how the silence scared you, how you felt like you were in this alone—and he’d get defensive. He’d say, “I’m doing my best,” or “You know how much pressure I’m under right now.” And you’d bite your tongue. You didn’t want to add to the weight on his shoulders. But the resentment kept building. You weren’t asking for the world. Just a check-in. A sign that he still remembered how to love you when things got hard.

The miscommunications started small. A forgotten anniversary dinner. A vague answer when you asked if he’d be home. But they stacked up like dominoes, one after the other, until the smallest push sent everything toppling. You both stopped speaking the same language. You’d say, “I miss you,” and he’d hear, “You’re not good enough.” He’d say, “I’m tired,” and you’d hear, “You don’t matter.”

Then came the argument. The big one. The one that split the foundation.

You were setting the table when he buzzed the apartment door.

It was 10:18 PM.

You stared at the intercom for a second before pressing the button to let him in. No words. No "I'm here" or "Sorry I'm late." Just the click of the door unlocking and silence.

You opened the door before he could knock. Dante stepped in looking like hell—literal hell. Blood on his sleeve, eyes sunken from lack of sleep, hair damp like he’d tried to rinse off whatever mess he’d walked through before coming to you. He smelled like copper and smoke and exhaustion.

Still, your heart lifted for a beat just seeing him. Stupid, soft reflex.

“Hey,” you said.

He nodded. “Hey.”

You stepped aside and let him in. He didn’t kiss you. Didn’t touch you. Just dropped his duffel by the door like he was clocking out of something. The sight of him like this—tired, distant, barely standing—it tugged at something in your chest.

“I made dinner,” you said, a little too hopeful. “It’s probably cold by now, but—”

“I’m not hungry,” he cut in, already moving toward the couch.

You stood in the kitchen for a second, hands still resting on the back of one of the chairs. Watching him. He sat with a grunt, elbows on knees, head in his hands like gravity was pressing harder than usual. You knew that posture. It meant don’t ask questions. Don’t start anything. Just let him sit in the silence.

But tonight… you couldn’t.

It had been a week. A week without him. A week of one-word texts, unanswered calls, and too many nights alone, replaying old conversations in your head trying to figure out when exactly he started slipping through your fingers.

“I waited,” you said softly. “I thought you were coming at eight.”

He didn’t look at you. “Got held up.”

You waited. Hoped for more. An apology. An explanation. Something that showed he realized this mattered.

Nothing.

You took a slow breath. “Dante… you can’t keep doing this.”

That made him lift his head, eyes hazy with irritation. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Ghosting me for a week. Showing up in the middle of the night like it’s nothing. Acting like I’m just supposed to—what? Pretend we’re fine?”

His jaw tensed. “I’ve been working.”

“I know,” you said, voice sharper than you meant. “I know you’ve been working. Risking your life. I get it. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t care when you disappear. I can’t keep sitting alone in this apartment wondering if you’re alive.”

He blinked, like the words didn’t land right. Or like he didn’t want them to.

“You think I enjoy this?” he muttered. “You think I like being stuck in some sewer for three days bleeding out while some freak tries to tear me apart?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You have no idea what it’s like out there.”

“No,” you snapped, stepping forward. “But I know what it’s like in here. Waiting. Checking my phone every five minutes. Making excuses for you. Pretending this doesn’t hurt because I’m scared if I say the wrong thing, you’ll just disappear again.”

He stood then, sudden and sharp. “You think I want to be like this?”

“I think you don’t know how to let people in,” you said, quieter now. “And I think I’ve been trying so damn hard to hold onto something that doesn’t want to be held.”

He stared at you, breathing hard, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” he said finally.

“I didn’t cook for someone who wasn’t going to show up,” you said.

The room went still.

He looked away first. Scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m tired.”

“So am I.”

Your voice cracked on that last word, and he looked at you again—really looked this time. And for a second, something in him softened. Like he saw the version of you that wasn’t angry or nagging or dramatic. Just hurting.

But he didn’t reach for you.

Didn’t say I’m sorry.

Didn’t say I missed you.

Just ran a hand through his hair and said, “Maybe this isn’t working.”

Not working?

Not working?

“You can’t be serious,” You huffed out a bitter laugh. Dante reached for you. You swatted him away. “You… We’ve been together for six months. What the fuck do you mean “Maybe this isn’t working”?”

He stood before you with his arms crossed, white hair still disheveled from his day, eyes narrowed, jaw ticked. “I mean that this…” He answered, gesturing to the space between you and him. “Isn’t working out. I don’t think– I can’t…” He swallowed, “I can’t be the man you need me to be. Not right now.”

“You’re gonna give up on us? Just like that?” You continued, still, with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Then, you stepped forward, raising a hand to reach out for him, “I love you, Dante. You’re not gonna fight for us?”

“This isn’t love,” He spoke, tone final, but the slightest trembling breath beneath his words betrayed his true feelings. His fingers slipped into his hair, trembling as they carded through his white locks and tugged at his roots. “Look at you– you don’t even see the problem. You shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not your boyfriend is gonna come back alive. You shouldn’t have to put your whole life on hold for me. You still have the whole world to see. I don’t want to have to live a double life anymore.”

“Then let me in!” You hissed back. Your arms were crossed, too. “Do you think I like feeling as if I don’t know the man I love? I could take some of the burden off your shoulders, Dante, if you just–”

“Enough,” Dante sucked his teeth. “I don’t want you wasting your life away worrying over me,” After a lengthy pause, he continued, “All we ever do is fight and fight and fight– I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore, not with you. You’d be much happier without me.”

He was probably right.

“Oh, fuck you,” you shouted, your voice cracking with fury, but even then, it wasn’t enough to hide the way your heart was shattering inside your chest. When your eyes finally met his, you knew he felt the heat of it—anger and hurt and betrayal, all coiled together like fire licking at his skin.

“You’re not going to decide what’s best for me.”

“Yes, I am,” he snapped, cold and absolute.

You took a step forward, trembling, jaw clenched so tight you thought it might break. “You don’t know what’s good for my well-being,” you bit back, chest heaving. “You don’t even know what’s good for your well-being.”

That hit him. You saw it in the way his lips pressed into a thin line, how his teeth caught the inside of his cheek like he was chewing on the guilt. Then he said the words that broke you:

“You could be so much happier without me.”

And just like that, everything inside you stopped.

Something in your gaze must’ve shifted then—something that startled even him. Because the anger didn’t burn quite as bright anymore. The fire was still there, but it flickered lower, smothered by something glassy, something wet clinging to your lashes. It was hurt. Real hurt. Deep, bone-deep heartbreak that swelled until your chest couldn’t contain it.

“Baby…” he sighed, and for the first time, his voice wasn’t sharp. His shoulders dropped like the weight of his decision had finally started to crush him. “I’m sorry. You know I love you. I just… I can’t live with myself knowing that one day I might not come back to you.”

You didn’t say it back.

Not this time.

Even if you wanted to. Even if your love for him still pulsed through every inch of your body, even if it begged for a reason to stay—how could you keep loving someone who was walking away from you like this?

Your lips parted, dry and trembling. You licked them slowly, like maybe the right words would come if you just gave them time. But all you could manage, hoarse and raw, was: “Take your shit…” You swallowed hard. God, it hurt. It hurt worse than anything he could’ve done. “And go.”

He froze.

“What?” he asked, stunned, like he hadn’t expected you to mean it. Like he thought you’d plead. Cry. Kiss him one more time just to remember what it felt like. Like you’d make it easier for him to leave you.

But you didn’t.

“I said…” You looked up at him, every inch of you on fire, your arms folded so tight across your chest they ached. You could feel yourself shaking—fists clenched, breath shallow. “Take your shit… and get the fuck out of my apartment.”

And you meant it.

Even if it destroyed you.

You saw the pain in his eyes then. The flicker of disbelief. The way his entire world seemed to crumble at your feet. Two years. Two whole years. Twenty-four months of laughter, late nights, shared secrets, and silent apologies. A thousand soft I love yous whispered between sheets. A thousand more unspoken.

Was he second-guessing it now? Did he finally realize what he was throwing away?

YOU

|  Guys we’re going out tn.

When you reached the bar, it was still early. There were a few people here, but not too many. The low murmur of voices and clinking glasses provided the background noise that you desperately craved.

You grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey, the burn in your throat just sharp enough to make you feel something—anything, really. It felt like you were drinking to forget, and the first sip seemed to help, dulling the edges of the ache, if only for a moment.

Your friends noticed you as soon as they walked in. They must have heard the difference in your voice when you answered their text. They could tell something was off, but they didn’t press. Not immediately.

The first drink turned into another. And another. You weren’t trying to get drunk; you were just trying to escape. To lose yourself in the clinking of ice cubes, in the low hum of the bar, in something that wasn’t him. But as the minutes passed, the alcohol didn’t do much to stop your thoughts from spiraling back to him.

You thought about the night before. The argument. His face, so conflicted, yet resolute. The way he walked away without even a second glance, as if he knew the decision he was making was the right one. How could he be so sure? How could he leave you like that?

“Another?” one of your friends asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. She was smiling, but there was a glimmer of concern in her eyes.

You didn’t even think about it before nodding. “Yeah,” you said, a forced smile on your lips. "Just one more."

You didn’t want to talk about Dante. Not yet. You didn’t want to explain to anyone why you felt like the world had been yanked out from under you. But it didn’t matter. Your friends could see it in your eyes. They didn’t need you to say a word.

No, a year ago, your life changed.

So, you can imagine how it felt to walk home from a day spent at the grocery store, bags tucked beneath your arms, and see him standing there.

Dante.

It had been a year since you’d last seen him, and you were doing just fine. Really. A little grocery shopping to get your mind off the usual stuff, a bag of chips here, some pasta there. You didn’t need Dante in your life anymore, and if you were being honest, you were doing better without him. You had a boyfriend now, someone who didn’t make you question your sanity. Things were... uncomplicated.

That was until you turned the corner and saw him.

Dante. Standing there across the street, looking like he’d just stepped out of a scene from some movie you hadn’t signed up for. There he was, all messy hair and that familiar red coat, like he didn’t have a care in the world. You froze for a second, staring at him as if your eyes were playing tricks. Was he actually here? In your world, in your life, right now?

Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? The universe had a sick sense of humor.

You immediately felt that familiar wave of annoyance—was it even annoyance? Maybe it was exhaustion, or some mix of both. You adjusted the grocery bags under your arms and took a deep breath. You were doing just fine. He was not about to mess with your day.

But Dante, being Dante, didn’t just stand there. No, he was coming toward you now, his long stride eating up the space between you with an unsettling familiarity.

Great, you thought, shifting the weight of your bags to one side as if they were the only thing that mattered right now. But in truth, you were already calculating the best possible escape route. The crosswalk? Too far. The alley to your left? Maybe, but the sidewalk was too narrow. Okay, girl. Focus.

You picked up the pace, shifting into a power walk as though your life depended on it. Sure, you looked a little ridiculous, but it was a small price to pay for a little peace and quiet. You weren’t looking back. Not now.

Behind you, you could hear Dante’s footsteps closing in, his voice trailing after you, “Hey, wait up!”

But you didn’t wait up. No way.

You’d moved on. You had a boyfriend now, someone who would never make you feel like a damn emotional rollercoaster. Someone who didn’t show up after a year of radio silence with that same unreadable stare, acting like nothing happened. No, Dante. No thank you.

Still, you could hear his footsteps, gaining on you. It was like an unspoken challenge. You had to admit, he wasn’t slow. But neither were you. You adjusted the bags once again—damn, this was turning into a workout—and picked up the pace.

You weren’t going to make it easy for him. You weren’t even going to acknowledge the way your heart still remembered his presence, the way it beat a little faster the closer he got. You weren't going to let yourself get sucked back into that mess.

His voice was closer now. “Come on, just—”

A sigh. You were really doing this, weren’t you?

A glance over your shoulder, just a quick flick of the eyes to see how much ground he’d covered, and what do you know? He was right behind you now, practically breathing down your neck. “I’m just trying to catch up, alright?”

Catch up? You weren’t sure whether to laugh or groan at that. This wasn’t a race, Dante, and you didn’t need a personal trainer chasing you down the sidewalk. You could already feel the annoying tightness in your chest. The one that had always been there whenever he was around, the one that reminded you of how difficult it had been to move on in the first place.

He was getting too close for comfort now, and you could already tell this wasn’t going to end well if you kept this pace. So, against every instinct telling you to keep walking, you slowed down just enough for him to catch up. You didn’t want to, but here he was, breathing like he’d run a marathon just to get you to stop. And for what? So he could talk?

He stopped beside you, his eyes searching your face with that all-too-familiar intensity. His chest heaved slightly, probably from the exertion, but you’d be damned if you showed any signs of weakness.

For a second, he just stood there, catching his breath. You, on the other hand, kept your eyes straight ahead, acting like you hadn’t just sprinted for your life.

“Alright, listen,” he said, voice softer now, “I know I messed up. But can we at least—”

You didn’t even look at him as you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I can’t. I have to go.”

And that was that. You didn’t need to say anything else. You couldn’t afford to.

You were done.

That night, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hair tied up into a neat little bonnet. The faucet was running – lukewarm water trickling out – but you weren’t washing up. No, you were standing there, letting the water drip down your eyes, your cheeks, your neck. You were staring at your tired reflection.

You should’ve been washing away the exhaustion of the day, but instead, you just let it fall over you, droplets slipping down your face, down your chest, almost as if you were trying to wash away the past.

But you couldn’t. No matter how much water hit your skin, how much you scrubbed away at your tired reflection, you couldn’t erase him. Dante. He was there, in the back of your mind, in the way your pulse quickened when you saw him again, after all this time. It had been a year, and yet, when you looked at him across the street, the world seemed to stop for a moment. It was like stepping back into a dream.

You hadn’t realized how much of your heart you’d given to him, how much of yourself you’d let him take. And then, nothing. No texts, no calls, no explanation. Just silence, stretching on for months, the gap between you two growing wider, until you started to convince yourself that maybe that was for the best. Maybe you were better off without him, your life finally starting to take shape without the constant ache of waiting for him to come back, to acknowledge the mess he left behind.

Cupping your hands beneath the faucet, you splashed some more water onto your face. God, I need therapy.

But, being that your current rent situation didn’t exactly permit a visit to the psychologist at the moment, you threw your favorite fuzzy robe over your satin cami and shorts, popping your feet into your beat up pink slippers. You shuffled right over to your bedroom and plopped down onto the bed, limbs falling uselessly to the mattress.

Kill me, you thought.

That wasn’t viable, though. So, instead, you reached into your nightstand (past the vibrator you had bought eight months ago during the worst part of your dry streak) and pulled out a sheet mask. Biting into the package, you opened it and pulled the slimy thing out. The serum melted into your skin as you laid it over your face, leaning your head back against the pillows and relaxing for the first time in what felt like ages.

Your head was blissfully empty. There were no thoughts of men with precarious jobs and swords and… devilishly handsome faces. No, it was just you. You and your favorite pajamas and your favorite skincare routine.

You flicked the TV on. You didn’t have to change it back to your favorite channel. No, that was the glory of having a shitty little apartment in the city to yourself. It was on the same channel you left off on – your favorite drama.

The characters buzzed to life. You set the remote down and watched.

The characters on screen started a new conflict, one that you knew would keep you hooked for the next hour. You sank deeper into the couch, letting the familiar warmth of your apartment wash over you. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of quiet that only comes when you're truly alone.

Then, the sound came. A soft knock at the window outside your room, followed by a long, drawn-out silence. Your heart skipped, the peace broken. You froze, eyes still locked on the TV, the characters' voices fading into the background as your mind reeled. It was too late for anyone to be outside. Too late for anything normal to be happening. Another knock, louder this time. A rhythmic tap that sent a shiver down your spine. You slowly turned your head toward the window, your pulse quickening.

Oh, God, you thought. I’m going to die.

Still, because you couldn’t exactly ignore the sound, you slid out of your warm, comfortable bed and into your slippers once more. Then, hesitating every single step of the way, you snuck into the living room, glancing around in search of the source of the sound.

Another knock. This one louder. You held your breath, hand hovering just above the blinds. It was coming from outside. No one else came to your apartment at this hour. You knew who it had to be.

You glanced down.

There, crouched on the balcony just below your window, was Dante. His face was half-lit by the streetlights, a little smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he waved at you. As if it was the most normal thing in the world, like he hadn’t disappeared for an entire year. Like you hadn’t spent every sleepless night wondering if he was dead or alive, missing his presence as if your heart had been torn in half.

The audacity of it. There he was, grinning like nothing had changed. His hair was messy, his eyes gleaming with that same mischievous spark that used to drive you crazy. The same spark that made your chest ache, even now.

“He cannot be serious,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, but he caught it, his grin widening.

You could almost feel his eyes on you, waiting, daring you to say something. But you couldn’t. What could you even say?

All you could do was crack the window open.

“Sorry,” He huffed out a laugh. A familiar one. One you… kinda missed, actually. “I tried calling, but I think you blocked my number.”

“I got a new phone,” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make this situation any better – as if you would open your eyes and he wouldn’t be here.

But he was. 

“What the fuck are you even doing here– I mean– the balcony, Dante, really?” You threw your hands out, eyes full of exasperation. “You could have knocked at the door like a normal person.”

“Would you have answered?” He asked. “If you knew it was me?”

“Probably not,” You replied honestly. “I should leave you out here to freeze to death.”

“Oh, right, about that,” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head abashedly. The entire encounter was so absurd that a part of you firmly believed you were dreaming. “I found out I’m, like… half demon. Crazy, right? So I don’t think I would freeze to death. Demon stamina, or whatever.”

Demon stamina. You thought. Right. Definitely awake right now.

Still, that would certainly explain his… endurance.

“Okay…” You had many, many questions, but that was the only thing you could muster, “Should I be… scared?”

What the fuck is going on?

In all honesty, if he told you that the world was ending tomorrow, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“Nah,” He waved your concerns away with the back of his hand. “I’d never hurt you. Except for… well, when I broke up with you. That’s why I came here, actually. Sorry about that. I’ve done some reflection and I…” Suddenly appearing rather nervous, he trailed off, “I fucked up. I was a real asshole to you back then. God, this is hard.”

Your arms dropped to your sides as you stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “You’re… ridiculous.”

“I know,” Dante said, hands up like he was surrendering. “But hear me out—”

“No, no. You don’t get to just Spider-Man your way onto my balcony, confess your demon heritage, and then act like this is normal,” you said, pointing to him like you were trying to make sense of a hallucination. “You broke up with me out of nowhere. Then you vanished. For a year, Dante. Not a word. Not even a shitty text.”

“I didn’t have a phone,” he replied, offended. “I was on a mission. I was in Hell.”

You snorted. “Oh, please.”

He blinked at you. Then, very seriously, he hissed out, “No, I was literally in Hell. For a year. You can’t imagine what that was like for me.”

“Oh my god.” You pressed your fingers to your temples. “You’re insane. Hell? Really?”

“I’m not making it up! You think I wanted to ghost you for twelve months?”

“Well, you kind of did. You broke up with me, remember?” You crossed your arms. “Said I should forget you. That I should move on.”

A pregnant pause.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he muttered.

“Well, congrats. I moved on. I did the whole crying on the bathroom floor thing, I got a therapist, I drank my sorrows away, I bought this plant—” You gestured wildly at the lonely fern in the corner. “His name is Rico. And he’s thriving. Without you.”

Rico was not, in fact, thriving. He was an exotic plant. One you had purchased on impulse at a farmer’s market that you definitely should have researched prior. He wasn’t doing too well cooped up inside of your apartment in New York City. Who would?

Dante crouched down, tilting his head, squinting at Rico. “Looks a little dehydrated.”

You glared. “So do you. What do you even want, Dante?”

His mouth opened, then closed. He looked down for a second, suddenly quiet. “I want a do-over.”

You stared at him.

“I didn’t have much control over the whole… trapped-in-hell thing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck again, “but I wasn’t happy with how we ended things. I could’ve been better to you. I kept rehearsing what I’d say to you if I ever saw you again, but I wasn’t expecting it to actually happen.”

He’s not being serious

… Is he?

One look at him, and you knew he was.

You let out a long, flat breath. “We can’t.”

“Why?”

You raised your brows. “Because we can’t,” you said again, quieter this time. And this time, it hurt.

“Why?” He asked, as if you hadn’t made yourself perfectly clear. “I’ve changed, honest. The past year I spent without you, I realized how good you were to me. How I took you for granted – I don’t wanna let you go. I don’t wanna make the same mistake twice.”

Aw, you thought, That’s… kinda sweet, actually.

No. Stop that.

Instead, you propped your hand up on your hip, “Does that mean you won’t be here on my balcony ever again?”

He paused, pursed his lips. “Okay, maybe I would,” He finally admitted. “But if you would let me in–”

You cut him off right then and there, rolling your eyes. “I can’t, Dante. I have a fucking boyfriend.”

That hit its mark.

His mouth opened, then closed again. The silence that followed made you uncomfortable in a way only Dante could manage—equal parts awkward and guilty. He looked down at the floor of the balcony like maybe it had some hidden message for him.

“Oh…” he murmured. “Oh. You… You really moved on.”

“Something like that.” You shrugged, trying not to sound as tired as you felt. “That’s what happens when you disappear for a year. Life goes on.”

“Not for me,” he muttered, lips curling downward into a pout that would’ve been funny if it didn’t come attached to so much damn history. “Fuck that guy. I could treat you way better, honest.” Then he added, almost too fast, like it slipped out before he could filter it, “I could probably fuck you better, too—”

He probably could. Honestly, your current sex life with your current boyfriend wasn’t the greatest. Still, he was consistent. He didn’t leave you hanging for nights in a row, wondering if he would come home. Not to mention the fact that, when you were with Dante, well…

You had some of the loveliest orgasms you had ever had. On the bed, on the floor, on the kitchen counter. The kind of orgasm you hadn’t achieved once since he had left. Not with your vibrator, and certainly not with your new boyfriend.

Your stare could’ve burned through glass. “I have to be up early tomorrow.”

He had the decency to look vaguely ashamed, but not enough to shut up. “Did you come here just to ask for a do-over?” you asked, already backing toward the window.

“No,” he said, and then paused. “Yes. I don’t know. Maybe.”

You almost respected his commitment. Almost.

You didn’t respond right away, just stared at him— hair as white as starlight, red leather coat, sword still strapped to his back, ridiculous expression like he genuinely thought charm could undo the year-long hole he’d left in your life. The silence made him fidget, scuffing the toe of his boot against the concrete.

“What do I have to do to convince you?”

You sighed. You really sighed this time, long and from the chest, because there was no point in even pretending this wasn’t exhausting.

“Goodnight, Dante,” you said.

Then… you shut the window.

The next day came with no promises of peace.

You were behind the counter at the diner, hair tied back, apron smudged with flour, oil, and maybe a little bit of your sanity. The coffee machine hissed in protest as you filled another mug for a trucker in the corner booth. Your feet hurt. Your head hurt. But at least it was a different kind of ache than the one Dante stirred up last night.

And then, like the universe had a personal vendetta against your emotional wellbeing, the bell above the door jingled.

You didn’t have to look up.

You felt him walk in—like some twisted sixth sense. The air shifted, and you could practically smell the cologne he always wore, something smoky and leather-soft. A second later, a voice followed.

“Damn. This place got a lot prettier since I was last here.”

You looked up anyway. Because of course you did.

There he was. Dante. Leaning casually against the host stand, all devil-may-care charm and a ridiculous leather jacket that made him look like he belonged anywhere but this greasy spoon diner. His eyes found you immediately.

You blinked slowly, then turned back to the coffee pot. “I swear to God,” you muttered under your breath, “I’m gonna lose my mind.”

He strolled right up to the counter, pulling up a stool like he hadn’t trespassed on your balcony twelve hours ago. Like he hadn’t cracked open an old wound and kissed the air with apologies.

“You look good in that apron,” he said, grinning.

You didn’t bother looking at him this time. “You look like someone who doesn’t tip well.”

“I tip amazing,” he argued. “Just like I–”

“Do me a favor and don’t finish that sentence,” you warned, grabbing a towel and wiping down a clean patch of counter for the hundredth time. “Have you always been this petulant or is it something in the air?”

“I’m a lot of things,” he said, shrugging innocently. “I’m a man of many talents. Want me to prove it? I’ve got time.”

Oh my god.

You finally turned to face him. “Do you not have demons to fight or… hell dimensions to get trapped in again?”

He laughed. “You remembered.”

You deadpanned, “How could I forget? It’s not every day your ex disappears into Hell without a cell phone.”

Dante lifted his hands like he was surrendering. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair. But look—I just thought we could talk. Maybe over some waffles? Syrup fixes a lot.”

You were already shaking your head. “No. Nope. I’m not doing this with you. Not here.”

“I’ll be good,” he said, drawing an imaginary halo over his head with his fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout,” you replied flatly.

“And you were never this mean to me,” he said with mock hurt.

“You were never this annoying. Go piss off somewhere. You had no problems leaving me alone for a year,” you shot back. Then you waved down one of your coworkers—a sweet girl named Lila with a bright smile and no idea what kind of emotional tornado she was about to serve.

“Hey, Lila?” you called. “Can you take counter stool three for me?”

She blinked. “Uh, sure. You okay?”

“Peachy,” you said, handing her a menu. “He’s all yours.”

Dante blinked as Lila approached with her notepad, looking confused and a little betrayed. “Wait, seriously?”

You leaned over the counter slightly, voice low. “You want waffles? Order them. You want closure? Write a poem.”

And then you walked away. You didn’t look back. You didn’t have to. The ache in your chest was enough to tell you exactly what kind of expression he wore.

The living room was dark, lit only by the bluish haze of the TV screen flashing between killstreaks and loading screens. Your boyfriend was sunk deep into the couch, legs wide, controller gripped like a lifeline. He hadn’t looked at you in over twenty minutes, completely absorbed in his game, spewing half-hearted trash talk at some twelve-year-old with better aim and a louder mic.

You shifted beside him, stretching a little, brushing your leg against his. Nothing. So you leaned over, nuzzling your nose lightly against his neck, just beneath his jaw.

“Hey,” you murmured, your voice soft and sweet. You let your fingers slide down his chest, slow and teasing. “Want to take a little break?”

He flinched—not from desire, but because someone on screen shot him. Again.

“Babe, not now,” he mumbled, eyes glued to the game. “I’m in ranked.”

You pulled back a bit, blinking, mouth falling open in disbelief. “Seriously?”

He didn’t look at you. Just kept clicking buttons, dead focused on the screen. “Yeah, just like… fifteen more minutes. Can you make dinner or something?”

You stared at him, chest hollowing out in quiet, stunned offense. You’d offered him your body. He asked for food.

There was a moment of silence. Your hand dropped from his chest.

You sat back against the cushion, a little colder now, teeth pressing into your bottom lip. And that was when Dante’s voice—his voice—echoed in your head from the night before.

“Fuck that guy. I could treat you way better, honest. I could probably fuck you better, too—”

You closed your eyes briefly, scoffing under your breath. God, he was ridiculous. And yet…

You pushed yourself off the couch wordlessly, heading to the kitchen without a sound.

Behind you, your boyfriend called out, “You’re the best, babe!”

You didn’t answer. Not with words. Just slammed the fridge door a little harder than necessary.

And in the back of your mind, Dante's voice lingered like a splinter.

You turned the stove on, lips pressed into a thin, tired line. Maybe later you’d lie down and try to remember what it felt like to be romanced by someone who didn’t treat Call of Duty like a second girlfriend.

One incredibly sexless night later, you took the evening to decompress. That is, you lit up some candles, had a few slices of the pie you’d kept in your fridge for days just like this one, and blocked off an hour for the sole purpose of masturbation. 

What? You needed it.

The apartment was warm, dimly lit, perfectly still. You’d even put your phone on Do Not Disturb, because tonight was about you. Your fingers itched with anticipation as you laid out your night like a ritual: the robe slipping lower on your shoulder, the cool sheets turned down, your favorite toy already waiting on the nightstand like a promise.

God. You needed this. You were wound tight. Between work, the complete lack of passion from the man you were dating, and that absolutely deranged balcony visit from Dante… you were more than pent up. You were practically vibrating with unmet desire.

You let out a long, dramatic exhale, sinking down into your mattress with the kind of grace usually reserved for tragic heroines. Just you, a flickering candle, and the fantasy of literally anyone but your boyfriend.

You reached for the waistband of your pajama shorts.

Knock, knock.

Your hand froze.

You stared at the ceiling. Maybe it was a neighbor. Maybe someone had the wrong door.

Knock, knock. Louder this time. Three slow raps, followed by silence.

You sat up slowly, groaning into the air. Then, begrudgingly, you stuffed your vibrator back into the drawer, kicking your feet over the edge of the bed and walking into the living room. It was dark, of course, so you flicked on a light. When you stared into the peephole of your front door, it took all of the strength you had to not bang your head against the door.

It was Dante. Again. No leather jacket this time, just a black hoodie, hands jammed into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You blinked, then groaned into the back of your hand.

Another knock, like he heard you. And then, muffled through the wood, his voice.

“I can hear you in there. Demon hearing, remember?” He brought his head up to the peephole, staring right back at you. “I know it’s late, Just… let me talk to you? For just a second? Please?”

You pulled the door open.

Dante stood there in the dim hallway light, hair windswept, hands in his pockets like he’d been pacing outside for a while, working up the nerve. His gaze moved over your face with a kind of stunned reverence, like he hadn’t really believed he’d see you again.

“Hey, princess,” he said.

There it was. That nickname. The one you hadn’t heard in a year.

You stepped aside without a word. He walked in like the place still remembered him. Or maybe you did.

The door clicked shut behind you.

You didn’t speak. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight over your chest, watching him watch the room like it had changed without him. It had. You had. But he still looked at you like he saw the girl you were a year ago. That girl who let him ruin her, and smiled while doing it.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he said, voice low. “I tried.”

“Did you?” You answered.

“Okay, not really,” He looked at you again, more serious now. “I keep thinking about you. All the time. You’re in my head constantly, like—fuck—I’ll be walking down the street and I’ll see something and just need to tell you about it.”

You laughed. Just once. It came out bitter and exhausted. “Keep it to yourself.”

“I missed talking to you about anything,” he said. “Everything.”

You shook your head, pushing off the wall, pacing just a little—like if you kept moving, you wouldn’t fall for this again. “You don’t get to come back after vanishing for a year and say shit like that.”

“I know. I know I don’t,” he said quickly, stepping toward you. “But I can’t pretend anymore. I’ve been trying to act like– like I’m not completely in love with you still, and it’s killing me.”

Your breath caught.

After all of this time?

His hands reached for yours before you could stop him. You let him take them.

Okay… what the fuck is going on?

“You deserve someone who sees you. Someone who treats you like you matter every second of the day,” he said. “Someone who doesn’t take you for granted. I could be that. I want to be that.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Because you’d heard those words before, from people who never meant them. From the person you’d curled up beside just last night, feeling more alone than ever. And yet here Dante was, saying all the right things—but he hadn’t even asked. He didn’t know.

He didn’t know how long it had been since someone had touched you like they meant it.

Your voice came out hoarse. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” he whispered. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I think about you when I’m trying to sleep. I think about your laugh. Your stupid, shitty taste in TV. Your coffee order. The movies you like. I want that back. I want you back.”

You yanked your hands away, jaw tight.

He’s got a lot of fucking nerve.

“Don’t do this,” you said. “Don’t show up and say these things and make me feel like this again. You don’t even know what you left behind.”

He looked at you, eyes open and raw. “Then tell me. Let me make it right.”

“Go away, Dante.” you snapped.

Silence fell between you like a slammed door. You turned your back to him, trying to catch your breath.

Then he stepped in behind you.

Not touching, not quite—but close enough that you felt the heat of him. Close enough that your body remembered every inch of him like a phantom limb. 

“Hey,” he murmured. “I know I fucked up. Can you be… like, not so mad? Just for two seconds?”

His hand slid to your hip, turning you gently toward him. You let him, still trembling, still so full of everything you never got to say.

“I’ve been in love with you this whole time,” he whispered. “And I’m so fucking sorry.”

The words were genuine. Genuine enough that you felt the tears begin to prickle at your eyes all over again – emotional at the mere thought of him, because truthfully?

You missed him, too. You just didn’t want to admit it. You missed the late nights and later mornings. You missed waking up next to him, hearing him talk about his crazy adventures as a demon hunter. You missed his kisses, the smell of him, his everything.

And, God, the sex… The sex was great.

He was taller than you. Always had been. But in that moment, it felt impossible not to notice how much he towered over you—how his shadow swallowed yours, how the air itself seemed to dip around him. You didn’t want to look up at him, but you did.

You stood frozen, breath shallow, pulse racing in your throat. You didn’t want this. You shouldn’t want this. But here you were, locked in place, every part of you screaming to walk away, and every part of you still craving the comfort of his touch.

“Please…” You whispered, trying to fight the overwhelming tide of emotion. “Please, Dante. Just go.”

His expression softened, like he hadn’t expected that—like he was expecting something more. You felt his fingers on your waist now, and they were warm, pressing gently into your skin. There was no escape now. You weren’t sure you wanted to run anymore, not when it felt like your body was already betraying you.

“I shouldn’t be here, I know,” he said, his voice quieter now. The distance between you seemed to vanish with each word. “But I couldn’t stay away. I tried to forget about you, I tried so damn hard, but I couldn’t. I don’t want to.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “Don’t, Dante. I can’t… I can’t do this.”

His eyes searched yours, the guilt and longing mixing together in a way that made your heart ache. He was close now, so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. You knew what was coming, but you didn’t stop him. Not yet.

“I know I fucked up,” he whispered again, more softly this time. “But I love you. I never stopped. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t. I just—I can’t be without you.”

And then, without waiting for another word, he leaned in.

His lips touched yours, slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. You didn’t stop him. For that moment, for that brief, heart-stopping moment, you let yourself fall back into the pull of him. Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his jacket like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

God, I missed this.

You melted against him, a wave of relief crashing over you as his kiss deepened, more urgent, more desperate. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, and you responded without thinking, your body moving instinctively against his. He groaned low in his throat, his hand sliding to your neck, the other pressing you closer.

You kissed him back like you were starving, like you had been dying for this. And for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered—like the last year of silence, the hurt, the betrayal, all of it faded away in the heat of his mouth on yours.

But then, just as quickly as the warmth had started, it turned cold.

You pulled away, gasping for air. Your chest heaved with the sudden rush of emotion. You couldn’t do this. Not again. Not after everything. Your hands shook as you pushed against his chest, creating just enough space to break the connection.

“No,” you said, your voice breaking as you stepped back, wiping at your eyes. “No. I can’t do this. I won’t.”

He blinked at you, stunned, his face pale, but he didn’t move. His eyes were full of confusion, pain, and something darker that you didn’t want to see.

“I can’t,” you repeated, voice steadying with every word. You took another step back, hand reaching for the door. “We can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

There it was.

“I’m sorry, Dante,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I really am.”

He stared at you for a long moment, and for the briefest second, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes – something devastating.

But then, he nodded. The motion was slow, almost resigned, and he took a step back. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door. As he passed you, he stopped for a moment, his gaze lingering on you one last time.

“I got a new phone. Same number,” he said, his voice raw. “You know who to call if you change your mind.”

And then, he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening.

You were sitting on the couch, the faint sounds of your boyfriend’s video game drifting from the other room, mingling with the hum of the refrigerator. You hated that noise—hated the sound of him so effortlessly immersed in a world that wasn’t yours, that didn’t care about the growing tension between the two of you. You tried to focus on the TV, tried to let the sitcom's canned laughter drown out the gnawing discomfort in your stomach. But it wasn’t working. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Dante had said.

I could treat you so much better.

Those words. God, they kept coming back to you. You didn’t want them to. You didn’t want to feel them pushing into every corner of your mind, making you question everything you thought you knew. But they did. And you were alone with those thoughts now. Alone with your insecurities that you usually kept locked away.

You huffed, pulling the blanket tighter around you as if it could protect you from the storm of doubt forming in your chest. You shouldn’t be thinking about him—about Dante. You should be thinking about how your boyfriend had been in and out of your life, barely there, barely present, always distracted. But the longer you sat there, the more it seemed like it was all just a reflection of the way you felt inside: disconnected, hollowed out, drifting.

And then, as if fate was timing it just perfectly, he left his phone on the counter.

Your breath caught, the phone staring at you like a challenge, like an invitation. You told yourself you wouldn’t. You promised you wouldn’t invade his privacy like this. But your fingers itched to touch it, to confirm the sinking feeling in your stomach that something—someone—wasn't right.

You pushed yourself off the couch, the decision feeling both slow and inevitable as you walked toward the kitchen. The phone sat innocently on the counter, waiting. You took a breath, a shaky, hesitant inhale. You could walk away. You could pretend you didn’t see it.

But you didn’t.

You picked it up, unlocking it with a simple swipe. Your heart hammered in your chest, adrenaline kicking in as if you were about to do something reckless. The phone screen lit up with messages from some unnamed number. And when you saw the first message, your throat tightened.

"I miss you so much. When can I see you again?"

It hit you hard. Like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t even had time to react before your eyes were scanning the next message, then the next, your stomach sinking deeper and deeper with every word.

“Last night was incredible. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

A sharp, painful gasp escaped you before you could stop it. You clutched the phone tighter, staring at the words, and then—bam—it all crashed into you. You hadn’t been wrong. You hadn’t been imagining the distance, the emotional coldness that had settled between you and your boyfriend. There it was, in black and white—proof of his betrayal.

You felt like you were drowning, suffocating under the weight of it all. This wasn’t just about the messages. It was about everything. About the endless late nights when he came home late from “work,” about the weekends when he’d disappear into his own world, leaving you to figure out where you fit into it. And now this—this confirmation that the man you had been with for so long wasn’t who you thought he was.

You could almost hear Dante’s voice again in your head. I could treat you so much better. The words felt like salt in a wound you hadn’t even realized you had, their presence almost suffocating in the quiet of your kitchen. Were you settling? Were you really going to let this happen? Let yourself get swallowed by someone who couldn’t even give you the decency of respect?

You exhaled sharply, your pulse quickening as the next message flashed on the screen.

“I can’t wait to see you again, babe.”

Babe.

The word made you sick, twisting your stomach into knots. You didn’t know why it bothered you so much—maybe because it wasn’t meant for you. Maybe because it was meant for someone else. Someone who got his attention, who got his time, his affection. It wasn’t you. You were just the woman he settled for, the one who wasn’t good enough for the effort.

The room felt too small, the air too thick, and you suddenly hated everything about this moment. The phone in your hand, the pit in your stomach, the way you had let things go on for this long. You could feel the tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You weren’t going to cry over this. You weren’t going to let him have that power over you.

But just as quickly, the rush of hurt was replaced by something else—a sharp anger that burned through you like fire. You weren’t going to keep doing this. You weren’t going to keep letting him make you feel small. You weren’t going to keep standing by, pretending that nothing was wrong when everything was falling apart around you.

You weren’t going to be the backup. The woman who stayed even though she knew she deserved more.

The sound of footsteps from the other room snapped you out of your thoughts, and you shoved the phone down onto the counter, just as your boyfriend entered the kitchen. His voice was casual, too casual, as if nothing had changed.

“Hey, babe. You alright?” He asked, glancing over at you.

You didn’t respond right away. You just stared at him, your chest tight with all the words you didn’t want to say, the emotions you didn’t know how to handle.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The raw anger, the aching disappointment—it was all building up inside you, suffocating you. You stood there in the kitchen, phone still in your hand, his lies echoing in your mind. Every text, every word, had become a blade, slicing through your trust, through your relationship. And now, standing face-to-face with him, it all came to a boiling point.

You couldn’t help it.

You walked up to him, eyes burning with fury, and before he could even open his mouth to explain himself, your hand shot out. The slap echoed through the small apartment, sharp and loud, breaking the tense silence between you.

His head jerked to the side from the impact. He didn’t even seem surprised. But you could see the flicker of guilt in his eyes. Too late for that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your voice trembled with rage as the words spilled out. “You think I wouldn’t find out? You think I’m some kind of idiot, just sitting here while you lie to my face?”

He reached up, touching his cheek, and for a moment, he looked almost confused. “What the hell are you talking abou–”

“No.” You cut him off, stepping back, trying to breathe, to stop the angry tears from spilling over. “Don’t even try. I’ve been here, okay? I’ve been here, giving you everything, and this is how you repay me?”

You could feel the walls around you closing in. The kitchen—the place where you had made so many meals together, laughed together, fought together—it suddenly felt suffocating. This wasn’t your home anymore. It wasn’t the place you thought it was.

“I trusted you,” you spat, your voice cracking. “I trusted you, and you went behind my back. All this time, you were texting her—her—while I was sitting here, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.”

His eyes widened, but then he scoffed, trying to brush it off. “Come on, it’s not like that. She’s just—”

“Don’t!” You interrupted again, shaking your head, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care what excuses you’ve got. I don’t want to hear how you’re ‘sorry’ and how ‘it wasn’t like that’ because it was. I saw the texts. I saw everything.”

There was a cold silence, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. He was quiet now, eyes downcast, as if he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he had no idea how to fix it—because there was no fixing it. Not this time.

“Do you even care?” You whispered, feeling the heartbreak seep into your bones. “Do you even care that you’ve been hurting me this whole time?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you could see the hesitation in his eyes. He was trying to form the right words, trying to make it sound like he cared, like he had some kind of reason, but it was too late for that.

“No,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I’m done.”

He froze. For the first time in what felt like ages, there was an almost desperate look in his eyes. “Wait—what? You can’t—”

“Don’t try to stop me.” You took a deep breath, the anger dissipating just enough to feel the weight of the pain. “I’m not staying here. I’m not going to keep putting myself through this. I’m done.”

His face fell. You could see the regret in his eyes, but you didn’t care anymore. You couldn’t. Not after everything. Not after what you’d just found out.

You turned your back on him, heading for the bedroom to grab your things. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You could feel the tension in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. Not anymore. You were done.

You grabbed your bag—your jacket, your wallet, your keys—and made your way toward the door. Every step felt heavy, like you were walking away from something you had invested so much of yourself into, and yet, there was a strange sense of relief settling in your chest. You were leaving behind a lie, a hollow version of something you had once wanted to be real. 

You were leaving him.

“Wait,” he called out, his voice strained. “Please, don’t go. We can fix this. We can talk—”

But you didn’t listen. You opened the door, stepping out into the hallway, and closed it behind you. The sound of it was final. You didn’t want to hear his excuses anymore. You didn’t want to be with someone who could betray you like this.

Still, weak thing that you were, you began to cry.

“I got a new phone. Same number,” he said, his voice raw. “You know who to call if you change your mind.”

As you walked down the hallway, your phone felt heavy in your pocket. You didn’t want to look at it. 

But then, your fingers moved of their own accord, slipping the phone out of your pocket.

And there it was: Dante’s old number.

The one you’d saved with the naive hope that he might have called. You hadn’t thought about it in a while. You hadn’t dared to reach out to him—hadn’t dared to even look at his name on your phone. But now, standing there in the hallway, your heart pounding, your chest tight from everything you’d just left behind, you thought about what he’d said to you.

I could treat you better. 

I’ve always been in love with you.

A cold shiver ran down your spine at the thought. You could still hear his voice in your head, still feel the weight of his words.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, uncertainty swirling inside you. You didn’t know why you were doing this. You didn’t know what you hoped to get from it, but you couldn’t shake the pull. You wanted—needed—someone who saw you. Someone who cared.

So, in a moment of weakness, you typed the words.

YOU: I need you.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself. The words felt foreign, too raw, too vulnerable, but you couldn’t take them back now.

a/n: ok so whenn i say this is gonna be short... i MEAN IT THIS TIME LOL..... maybe. anyway! part two is almost done, so comment what you thought, let me know what you'd like to see, what you loved, etc! until next time, my loves x not sure why this got deleted? but ok

I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @mrshayakawaa

wanna join the taglist? | pretty ; chapter index

[lunasfics]

Found Family

summary: In which Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent engage in a custody battle over a clone created from both their DNA, or, in which you get saved from a lab and gain two new families who would move mountains for you.

pairing: Bat Family x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader

word count: 8.2k

preview

a/n: hello! IT'S FINALLY OUT WOOHOO, it's a bit long but i had a lot of fun writing it. certain characters may be a bit ooc so i do apologize as i'm still getting my footing on how to characterize certain people. let me know what you think! constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated (just pls don't be mean lol)! i left a somewhat open-ish ending because i wanna make this into a series/universe, and will start taking requests for drabbles in this universe, depending on how this is received! - luna :)

reblogs are appreciated!

“I’m in. Robin, what’s your status?” Bruce spoke into the earpiece, swiftly moving through the shadows of the lab. It was a simple mission: get into the lab Lex Luthor had created under Gotham City, collect intel needed to take down said lab, and leave. Unfortunately, it’s never really that simple, is it? 

“I’m in, making my way through the west wing, cover is still intact,” Damian muttered back. 

“Good. Nightwing?” 

“Just entered the center lab, heading down to the bottom level now, haven't been spotted,” Dick said, making his way down the steps, careful to remain silent. 

“Good. Remember the objective. In and Out.” Bruce muttered as he continued, searching for the locked file cabinet he was looking for. 

“Files located. Ready for extraction” Damian said quietly through the intercom. 

“I’ve made it to the bottom level. Requesting immediate backup, there's something here you guys need to see” Dick’s voice echoed through the earpiece, “They’ve made another clone.” 

Bruce stopped what he was doing, silently making his way down the hall towards the staircase Dick took around a half hour before, “I'm on my way. Damian?”

“Heading there now. Files are downloaded.” 

Upon arriving at the lower level, Dick bypasses security to let them in, making sure to reactivate the lock behind them, “Look.”

He gestured to the incubation tube not far from them, inside of it stood a young woman, who looked no older than 20, wearing a black skin-tight suit, a familiar “S” symbol adorning her chest, only it was the center of another symbol, the bat symbol, with bat ears at the top and bat wings on either side of it, a dark burgundy color with gold lining along the edges. The plaque below the tube read: 

Attempt 1: G6B24 

Specimen 1: Superman (Identity: Unknown)

Specimen 2: Batman (Identity: Unknown) 

Status: Failed - Shows excessive signs of emotional intelligence (unfit for purpose), Subject is not invulnerable, Lacks thermal vision

‘Emotional Intelligence’ you must have shown hesitation, a moral compass. 

“Father… what are we going to do?” Damian asked, he was at a loss, part of him felt slightly threatened, if you were taken in, he would no longer be the only child related to Bruce by DNA, and you were older, stronger— perhaps you would take his place, the place he’d finally felt he truly belonged; however he remained silent, his past self likely would have attempted to argue against your rescue, but he’d grown, he knew deep down you deserved a chance at this life just as much as he did. 

Bruce looked up at your unconscious figure, at a loss for words, you were his daughter, intentional or not, there was a part of him in you, he only hoped that part wouldn't screw you over for life. As surprised as he was, he had an obligation to you the same way he did with Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Duke, Damian, and every other vigilante he had taken under his wing.

His Batman instincts kicked in very quickly though, immediately refocusing himself, reading through the files, in an attempt to prepare himself for any possible scenario, he turned to Dick. 

“Find all the DNA samples they have belonging to both me and Superman, we’re taking them,” he said, making sure to not hyper-focus on the thoughts flooding his mind. 

“We’re not just leaving her here, are we? The plaque says ‘failed’. Who knows what could happen to her?” Dick said, he was frustrated.

Conner had gotten a chance to build a life for himself. You deserved one too, the mere thought of Bruce wanting to leave you there angered him. 

“She’s coming with us. Damian, watch the door, Dick, find the samples," Bruce said gruffly, moving to the tube, bypassing the database to open it, without setting off any system safeguards. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out his shard of kryptonite, just in case it was needed to neutralize you. 

The tube opened slowly, a swoosh sound filling the air as the cold fog escaped the tube, spilling into the air, your eyes fluttering open as you looked around, your eyes focusing on him.

You flew at him, full speed, pushing him against the wall with a thud, knocking the wind out of him, your eyes boring into his, glowing red, just as you were about to terminate him with your heat vision, he uttered the safe word he had seen in your file. 

“Blue Pineapple” he grunted out, the red in your eyes fading away instantly, as you stared at him with wide eyes. You backed away slowly, lowering yourself to the floor. Your eyes fixed on him once again.

You recognized him from your programming, the man whose combat skills were engraved into your mind.

“Batman?” 

Dick and Damian rushed over, making sure Bruce was okay. He was fine.

Dick turned to you, holding out his hand, “Come with me. We need to get you out of here, you aren’t safe here.” 

You stared at him, your eyes narrowing, “Why should I trust you?” 

Dick sighed, Those damn Wayne genetics, he kept his hand extended to you, “Because we’re helping you escape, if you come with us, you can meet Superman, be a hero just like him and Batman, you could actually see the world” he promised. 

"I know what the world looks like." you stated bluntly.

He sighed, his hand not wavering, "But have you ever experienced it? Let us show you what that's like. You can have a life."

You thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, nodding at him and taking his hand, allowing them to lead you out of the lab grounds seemingly undetected. 

When you stepped out, you stopped, eyes completely transfixed on the brilliant night sky. Blends of blues and purples and grays danced together to make the beautiful endless abyss above you. You knew every color there was. You knew everything, but at the same time you really didn't. You stared up at the stars, you knew how they came to be, you knew every scientific explanation there was yet seeing them… it made you feel a way you couldn’t explain.

They led you to the batmobile, situating you in the back seat with Damian, starting the drive to the Batcave. Bruce dialed Clark’s number into the keypad, it rang twice before he picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Meet me in the Batcave. It’s urgent. Bring Conner.”

“What’s going o-”

He hung up. 

Dick covered his mouth to hide his snicker, “So, Bruce, you and Clark have an official love child now, right? What will Lois think?” he feigned concern, placing the back of his hand over his forehead, committing to the drama, “Oh, how scandalous, I mean really, the shame! I can already see the headlines ‘Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne turned common whore after breaking up happy metropolis family’” 

Damian covered his laugh with a cough.

You looked at the three of them, utterly confused, still processing what was going on. 

Bruce huffed, shooting them both a glare, “Dick, be mature.” 

Dick smiled, “I can't help myself, just wait til Jason finds out.” He smiled in excitement, as they pulled into the side entrance of the Batcave. 

Bruce let out a deep, tired sigh.

Clark sat in silence in the Batcave, Conner standing to his left, his eyes wide as he stared at you, possessing some features belonging to both he and Bruce, and other features that seemed to be entirely your own.

You stared back, that same stoic nature radiating off of you that radiates off the Batman, however, he noted the defensive look in your eyes, one so similar to the one he saw in Conner when he first met him. He eyed your suit, noting the familiar “S” symbol, only it was a burgundy color, a rather interesting combination of the Batman and Superman emblems, and he was utterly confused.

He looked over at Bruce, still in his bat suit, his cowl pulled off, “Bruce, what the hell is going on?” 

“I had to call you here because Luthor decided to create another clone. I did the DNA test, Clark, she’s a combination of both our DNA” Bruce looked at him, Dick and Damian standing to his right. It was silent for a moment, you felt like a guinea pig, the way they all stared at you. It made you angry. 

Conner was the first to speak, stepping forward before opening his mouth, choosing his words carefully, “What’s your name?” 

You responded immediately, it felt automatic. “Experiment attempt number one. Code G6B24. I was made to be the future killer of the Batman and the Kriptonian.” 

He nodded slowly, “I’m a clone too, and Clark took me in— well, he took me in eventually— that’s besides the point. He showed me how to become my own person, we can help you do that too.”

You looked at him, eyes softening ever so slightly, but you kept your guard up like your Batman programming taught you to. “I was made to be a killer, if I don’t do what I was made to do, what am I worth?” you said quietly, voice unwavering.

Damian watched you, your words striking him in a way he hadn't expected them to, he understood what you were saying all too well. 

Bruce decided to speak up next, “You were created, it’s not your fault what their intentions were when they did so. What you become from here on out is your choice.” 

You stayed silent, eyes darting around the room—What is this feeling? Vulnerability? You knew it by definition, like you did most other feelings, but feeling them… it was different. 

Dick noted the way you seemed overwhelmed, he approached you slowly, pulling up two chairs, motioning for you to sit, you chose to remain standing until he sat down first. 

“You know, we trust you, we want to figure out a way for you to become the best you can be. On your terms” he said, offering you a small smile. 

You looked around, the others nodded in agreement, “I was made to be only the best parts of you” you said, your gaze focusing on Clark and Bruce, they both put their best qualities forward to help others, how could you use those same qualities to destroy that?

“I… don’t want to be a killer. They said I was too… human. I thought I’d failed them.” 

Damian decided to step forward, “You didn’t fail anyone, you are meant for greater things. You haven't killed anyone, you can choose your path. If the path you choose is the Robin mantle... I am willing to work with that.” 

At this, the other men in the room turned to look at him, Clark and Conner were slack-jawed, this was the same kid who fought Tim tooth and nail over this mantle. The same mantle he was just… willing to give you? 

Meanwhile Dick had a proud smile on his face, you thought you saw a small tear in his eye.

Bruce’s face seemed unreadable, however, you took notice of the way the corners of his lips turned up for a split second. before reverting back to their natural state. 

You weren’t sure what to say, again, you knew what this mantle was, by definition. The reality was you had no sense of what it meant, the weight it carried. And you knew that.

“Thank you, but I feel like that title isn’t mine to take. I think I need to… become something that's true to who I am, whatever that may be.”  

Bruce looked at you, the corner of his lip barely twitching up into a smile, a smile so subtle that only someone of your… background would notice, an attempt of his towards getting you more comfortable, “We should start with a name.” 

You looked at Conner, he gave you an encouraging smile. 

“Like I chose Conner, so now I’m Conner Kent,” he said with a small shrug, “You can choose whatever you want.” 

“I see,” you thought for a moment, “I like Y/n.” 

Clark smiled, standing up and clapping his hands together, “Great! Y/n Kent, has a nice ring to it.” 

“Wayne.” 

He turned towards Bruce, eyes narrowing slightly, “Kent.”

“Wayne.”

This time Conner spoke, “Kent.”

The three men stared at each other, arms crossed mirroring each-other’s glares. 

Dick cut in, “How about Grayson?”

“No.” came their simultaneous response. 

Dick frowned, slumping in the seat next to yours, “Jeez.” 

Damian spoke next, “I suppose Al Ghul is off the table…” 

Dick snorted, breaking out into a fit of laughter, you grinned softly at the sounds of his laughter, it reminded you of a windshield wiper. 

Conner sighed, “Fine, what about Wayne-Kent?”

Bruce huffed, “I suppose.”

Clark nodded, the smile returning to his face as he turned to you, “Y/n Wayne-Kent”

You nodded, “I like it.” 

Dick could help but laugh from beside you, “It's like I'm watching reality tv. Love me some baby mama drama.”

Clark opened his mouth to speak and closed it, before sighing and looking at Bruce, who just pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Conner chuckled at the sight, turning to Damian, who’s lip quirked up in amusement. 

Bruce looked up, his attention directed towards you, “Y/n, you can stay here for the night, I’ve asked Alfred to set up a room for you. Clark, Conner, come by tomorrow with Lois and Jon, I’ve called the others to come by as well, we’ll get everything situated tomorrow. For now, get some rest.” 

Everyone nodded, Clark and Conner heading to the exit of the cave, Damian, Dick and Bruce leading you to the room that was prepared for you. 

Dick brought you a sweater and some sweatpants to change into, closing the door with a soft, “Goodnight, kiddo.” 

You changed in silence, slowly getting under the covers and drifting off to sleep, marking the start of your new life. Tomorrow would be an interesting day. 

You woke up the next morning, to a soft knock on the door, your super hearing picking it up better than you would have liked. You opened the door, revealing an older man you hadn’t seen before. He smiled softly, giving you an instantaneous sense of comfort you couldn’t explain. 

“Hello Miss Y/n. My name is Alfred, I am the butler,” he greeted you, handing you a folded set of clothes, “Master Kent chose these for you, however if they are not to your liking, do let me know.” 

“They’re fine…Thank you.”

He smiled warmly, the kind old man giving you a nod, “Once you've changed, do come down, I’ve prepared breakfast. The other members of the family will arrive soon to meet you.” 

You gave him a short nod, he smiled again, your demeanor reminding him of the young Bruce he’d looked after all those years ago. He shut your door softly before retreating down the staircase, leaving you in your room to change. 

You picked up the small note that rested at the top of the pile, reading it over. 

Comfortable, Practical, and cool. Hope you like it. - Conner

You looked down at the neatly folded clothes, unfolding a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, the material was thick but breathable, you slipped it on with ease, the foreign material soft against your skin, you appreciated that it didn’t suffocate you. 

You reached for the pants next, dark gray cargo pants, these were thicker, and the had an overwhelming amount of pockets. You slipped them on before slipping on the boots that were at the bottom of the stack and exiting the room, going down the staircase. 

Upon entering the dining room, you were met with Bruce sitting at the head of the table, reading the paper calmly eating his pancakes, to his right sat Dick chatting excitedly to the boy next to him, who smiled at him as he listened, he was a slender boy with black hair who looked a bit younger than Dick. Then there was Alred, calmly enjoying his breakfast. Finally there was Damian on the other side of Bruce, leaving an empty seat between Damian and Alred. You sat down, the pale boy noticing you first. 

Bruce looked up, “Tim, this is Y/n.” 

“Hello.” You sat up awkwardly. One thing you never learned was how to navigate social interactions.

He studied you for a moment, offering you a small smile, “I’m Tim.” 

You gave a nod, returning his smile with a smaller one of your own. 

“She knows, by the way.” Dick chimed in.

His eyes widened, was that why you were there? 

“How?” 

All eyes are on you. You opened your mouth to speak but Damian spoke first. 

“She’s a clone. Father will explain everything when everyone else arrives so as to not waste time, until then, hold on to your childish curiosity. I’d like to enjoy my breakfast.” 

Dick nodded, “She was literally made for this shit.”

“Watch your language Master Dick, it is deplorable to speak in such a way at the table, much less in the presence of a lady.” 

Dick blushed, “Sorry Alfred.” 

Bruce simply gave a nod. 

Tim slumped back in his seat, wanting to ask you questions about your abilities, your earliest memories, who were you a clone of, how your programming worked, the boy was itching to know it all. 

Breakfast passed by relatively quickly after that, you weren’t bombarded with questions, much to your relief. Alfred kindly asked you how you slept to which you replied that you slept well. The sound of casual conversation and glassware scraping together filling the room. You enjoyed observing the atmosphere.

Clark and Conner were the first to arrive at the manor, greeting you happily, with them was a woman and a younger boy, who immediately went to sit by Damian. 

Clark brought them over to you, the woman smiled warmly at you. It made you feel safe. 

She held your hand in hers, “My name is Lois,” her voice was kind, genuine. You noted how she carried herself. Strong, secure, honest. 

Clark was quick to bring Jon over, excited to introduce him, “This is my son, Jon.”

“Hi!”  he beamed at you, you smiled, he was cute. Cheerful as he smiled brightly at you. 

“Hello, my name is Y/n.” you greeted the two, who smiled at you.

Conner was the next to approach, “Did you like the clothes? I picked them out cause it was all I used to wear, but who knows, you may want something more… fashionable.”

You smiled softly, “They're nice, thank you.”

“On that note actually,” Clark said, “I was thinking we can take you shopping later, Bruce and I can pay.” 

Bruce deadpanned, “That’s a joke, right?” 

He smiled, “Of course, you’re paying for everything.”

“Sounds about right.” 

Chatter filled the room not long after, Jon and Damian catching up on the couch while Conner and Tim started a conversation of their own. 

The next people to arrive were three young women, blonde, brunette, and red hair. They had arrived together.

The blonde spoke first, “Why'd you call us here Bruce? We had planned for brunch.” She bitterly narrowed her eyes at him, the brunette behind her giving a short nod of agreement.

Bruce sighed, “We’re waiting on Jason. He’s late.” 

“As always.” The redhead said with a sigh, though you could see she wasn't actually upset.  

The blonde girl turned to you first smiling, “I’m Stephanie, but call me Steph. I’m assuming you’ll be joining our vigilante posse.” She seemed funny, and kind, like she truly cared for those around her. 

“Somewhat, I don’t really know. I’m Y/n.” You said bluntly.

“Pretty name.” She smiled, gesturing to the red haired woman behind her, “This is Barbara, but she's really just Babs.” She then gestured to the brunette, “That’s Cass. She’s lovely.” 

You looked at them and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Barbara smiled warmly at you, “You too, I’m so glad there’ll be another girl around, we can always use more company.” She smiled at you so kindly, despite having only just met you. Her voice was sweet, like honey. 

Cass smiled softly at you, “Come to brunch with us later. Or, lunch, now since Jason is holding us up.” 

You nodded your lip quirking up into a small smile, “I’d enjoy that.” 

Truthfully, you didn't know what the fuck brunch was. But she said lunch and that you knew. You'd find out about brunch later.

Then, as if on cue, the man in question arrived, walking through the door, slipping off his brown jacket and tossing it on the couch. He was tall, with a stocky frame, jet black hair with a white streak on the front. 

“This better be good.” 

Tim mumbled, “Finally” 

“Miss me Timmy?” 

“Quite the contrary.”

The one called Jason laughed before giving him a small nudge, to which Tim swatted his hand away. 

His eyes fixed on you, then on Bruce. 

“Dude, seriously? Another one? You have a problem man. You’d think you would’ve stopped after me.” 

Bruce stood up, “Jason, sit down. Now that you’re all here I wanted to introduce you to Y/n. She’s a clone, made from both mine, and Clark’s DNA.” 

“Holy shit, man.” 

“Jason, will you shut up?” 

“Never.” 

“As I was saying, she’ll be here in the manor for the time being, I’ll be training her and assessing her combat technique.” 

“Hold on,” Clark interjected, “She should come with us, she needs to get the hang of her powers.” 

“Clark, I have a state of the art training area in the cave.” 

“So? We’re supers, all we need is an open field.” 

“We need to assess her combat skills, and also assess the extent of her powers. She isn’t invulnerable. We need to prioritize getting to the bottom of that.” 

Clark huffed but nodded, understanding the full extent of your abilities was vital in actually training you. 

“It’s like I’m watching a custody battle.” muttered Steph, Barbara laughing quietly beside her. 

“Wait- So Y/n is basically if you and Clark had a baby?” Tim gawked at them, his eyes shifting from Bruce to Clark, to you. When his eyes landed on you, he fired questions like he was on a time limit. 

“How do Bruce’s genetics affect your abilities? Are you immune to kryptonite and invulnerable? How does your thermal vision work? Enhanced strength? Can you fly? Can you fly as fast as Superman? Do you have combat training? How do y-” 

Conner smacked a hand over his mouth, leading him back to his seat, “Lets try not to overwhelm her with the questions.” He chuckled. 

Tim nodded, looking up at you, “Sorry, Y/n.” 

“That’s okay. To answer your questions, his genetics don’t necessarily have a huge impact on any of my abilities, I was created with every available video of Batman fighting embedded into my mind, and the combat skills were engraved in my memory, I should be able to replicate his fighting style to a tee. I’m not invulnerable, but in theory, the stealth I was programmed with allows me to stay agile enough that I shouldn’t often get hurt. I don't have thermal vision, but I do have laser vision, enhanced strength, and flight, although I haven’t tested how fast I actually can fly. And like I said, my combat training is essentially the combat footage uploaded into my mind.” 

Tim had nodded, eyes trained on yours in complete interest as you answered each question, occasionally jotting something down on the notes app of his phone. 

Lois narrowed her eyes slightly at both Bruce and Clark, “I do hope you’re factoring in giving her the opportunity to build an actual social life. Maybe get her enrolled in school.” 

“She has doctorate-level information on several different topics stored into her mind, as well as fluency in 8 languages. I think she’ll be fine, Lois,” Bruce replied. 

She rolled her eyes, “Okay, so school’s not necessary, what about building a social life for herself? That’s important.” 

“There’s Young Justice,” Conner said, “I figured she’d join.” 

Tim nodded in agreement, “I can help her get situated.” 

“Where will I stay?” you asked, you didn’t particularly enjoy how they were all discussing you as if you weren't there, but there honestly wasn’t much you could do. 

“You can stay at the manor, or you can stay with the team, but it'd be best if you lived here in the Manor.” Bruce replied.

“Why isn’t Metropolis an option?” Clark muttered. 

“Because it’s more practical to have her here in Gotham, living with Tim will make it easier to adjust to the team.” 

“I want time with her, Bruce.” 

“You’ll get it. We’ll have her assessed, then three times a week she’ll train and get a hold of her powers with you.” 

Clark nodded, satisfied with that answer. 

Lois spoke again, turning to you, “Y/n, how does that sound to you?” 

You blinked. “It sounds fine. My super hearing allows me to hear every conversation proficiently.”

She chuckled softly, “It’s a figure of speech sweetheart, I meant if you’re okay with everything that was said, you’ve been a bit quiet.”

You felt your face grow hot, “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay with it.”

Clark gave you a fond smile. 

Bruce looked at you and smiled softly, a barely noticeable one, but a smile nonetheless. 

The bulk of the conversation was over. The people in the room falling into easy conversation with one another, you look around, not sure what to do. That is until Jason approaches you, a kind smile on his face. 

“Hey Y/n, I’m Jason, I’ll be honest, you probably won't see me too often cause I can barely stand being around Bruce, but… if he’s ever a dick, call me and I’ll either punch him for you and take you somewhere he’s not.” he grinned, “Or both.” 

You laughed softly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He nodded, “I’ll be raiding the kitchen, but if anyone asks, I left.” He shoots you a grin before slipping away. 

It’s not long after that when Jon approaches you, Damian by his side, he shoots you a toothy grin, “So, you’re like, my sister now, right?” 

You’re not sure how to respond, but you feel a puddle of warmth pooling in your heart, it’s nice. You smile at him softly, “I suppose so.” 

He grins, “And that would also make you Damian’s sister. right?”

“I suppose so.” 

“See Damian, we’re blood brothers by extension.” 

“Jon, that is the most imbecilic logic I’ve ever encountered. Just because Y/n is both my blood and yours doesn’t mean–” 

“Blood brothers!” He had shouted cheerfully, before walking away and over to Lois to inform her of the good news. 

Damian sighed, though you took notice of the soft smile that flashed across his face, you concluded that he cared for him. 

A lot of people in this family– Bruce’s family specifically, tend to hide affection, despite the fact that it is apparent to you that they feel it. You decide not to focus on it, people are complicated. 

You chat a bit with various people in the room, Lois telling you that you’re always welcome to visit whenever you’d like, Barbara talking to you about how her work as Oracle, Steph telling you all about the other vigilantes you’ll probably end up crossing paths with. Tim and Conner sat by you, telling you all about the team and the people you’ll meet once all your training is done. 

Slowly, people start to leave, you saw Jason slip out the front door first, sending you a wink. Dick left not long after, needing to return to his responsibilities in Bludhaven, making sure to tell you you’re always welcome to visit him over there. Then Clark left with Lois, Jon, and Conner, leaving the residents of the manor plus, Cass, Steph and Barbara.

Damian and Tim had retreated to their rooms, while Alfred busied himself with household chores, Bruce stood up, approaching you before saying, “Did you still want to go shopping? You’ll need training clothes.” 

You nodded, “Yes, please.” 

Steph perked up, rushing towards the two of you, “Oh, we have to come.” 

“Steph, you go shopping every week. With my card.”

Barbara chimed in, “It’s not about that Bruce, you have a terrible fashion sense. We can’t let you impose that onto Y/n.”

Cass nodded in agreement. 

“We’re just buying training clothes.” 

“She can’t wear training clothes in her daily life,” Steph rolled her eyes, “She needs a wardrobe.” 

You smiled, “I would like a wardrobe.” 

“See?”

Bruce sighed but nodded, “Let's go then.”

Steph cheered while Barbara and Cass high-fived behind her, it was an amusing site. 

When you arrived at the mall, Steph immediately linked arms with you, dragging you around to her favorite stores, paying no mind to your super strength potentially being able to accidentally break her arm. It caught you off guard, not only the physical display of affection, but the trust.

Again, you felt that soft puddle of warmth pool in your chest. You could get used to that. 

You had gotten to know Barbara and Cass fairly well during the trip as well, Barbara was sweet, she and Steph made you laugh more than you thought you could. Cass and you got along well too, she picked out the clothes you liked the most, always nodding in approval when you would try anything on, a soft smile on her face. The three of them opened their group up to you so quickly, it had surprised you, you felt that with their company you were better able to navigate finding yourself. 

The four of you hadn’t paid much mind to Bruce trailing behind you as you went from store to store, not that he minded. He held a fond smile as he observed the four of you giggling, talking, and having a good time.

He knew his focus on training was important, but he also knew Lois was right (not that he’d admit that to anyone), you needed a social life too. And he knew your heightened emotional intelligence would surely allow you to obtain that, you just needed to blossom, and allow yourself to break free of the restraints you put on yourself. 

He’d lost count of how many times he had swiped his card that day, at some point he had decided to just start waiting by the front, once you guys were ready, he’d walk over, swipe his card, and you guys would move on to the next shop. He wouldn't say this to anyone, but he enjoyed doing things like this, taking care of the people he cares about. 

The last store you had gone to was WayneTech, it was Bruce’s idea. You needed a phone in order to keep everyone’s contacts. So they brought you there where you got the latest model of their cell phone line, it was sleek and thin. You picked out a case and you got a screen protector. Bruce had told you that once you got to the Batcave he’d input league contacts, safety features, as well as league-level security settings. 

By the end of the trip it was early in the evening, Bruce had his arms absolutely filled with shopping bags, and what he couldn’t carry was carried by you and Steph. The five of you stepped out into the parking lot, the sun setting, casting a deep orange hue on the parking lot. You took in the image in front of you, you didn’t know suns could set so beautifully.

The ride home was nice, the car was filled with the soft chatter of the four of you, Bruce didn’t feel the need to listen in. The soft music playing on the stereo as a background was a nice addition to the atmosphere. 

When you’d arrived at the manor, the girls had bid you goodbye, but not before making sure they had your number to add you to their group chat. You were warned by Steph that Cass’s meme game could not be beat. You were slightly confused but nodded, a happy smile on your face. They each gave you a hug before getting in their cars and heading off. 

The walk into the manor was silent, but not awkward, mainly the two of you taking armfuls of bags up to your room.

As he shut the door, Bruce turned to you, “It’s not too late, if you want, we could start out on some training.” 

You nodded, going into your room to change, “I’ll be down there in a bit.” 

He nodded, walking away to change as well. 

You entered the Batcave shortly after, comfortable in your black sweatpants, and a black long sleeve athletic shirt. Now, having a better opportunity to take it all in, it was massive. You looked to your left to see Damian sparring with Tim in one of the further training areas. You walked over to Bruce, he gave you a small smile, leading you to the second training area by Tim and Damian, who by now had stopped sparring, in favor of observing your skill. 

“You can replicate my fighting style to a tee, right?”

You nodded.

“Let’s see it.” 

You charged first, making sure to suppress your strength, your movements swift and calculated, landing a fast right kick to his abdomen. He sidestepped, landing a swift punch to your side. You kept attempting attacks on eachother, each one dodging the other flawlessly.

Tim and Damian watched in awe as the two of you gracefully moved, as if you were dancing. This went on for several minutes, until you attempted a fast left kick to his side, which he caught, using as leverage to flip you over on your back.

Your limbs ached, you looked up at him, “How did you do that?”

He held a hand out to help you up, “I’m not as fast with my left kicks as I am with my right ones. My weaknesses are your weaknesses.”

You nodded. Made sense. 

“You have good technique, and you replicate my fighting perfectly, but that’s all it is. A replication. You need to make it your own. Adapt it in accordance with your abilities, you can’t do that now because Clark hasn’t trained you, but in time you will.” 

You nodded, your chest swelling with pride at his compliment, you knew after your training with Clark you would be able to better adjust your fighting style.

Damian walked over to you, “Y/n. I’d like to spar, you’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.” 

You nodded, it would be good to spar with someone with a different fighting style. Tim sat down to the side, perfectly content with just observing for now, like earlier, he occasionally jotted down some notes on his phone. You decided you didn’t mind it. It was endearing. 

This time, Damian charged first, landing a swift right kick to your ribs, you turned and landed a hard kick to his chest, sending him back, before he flipped and caught himself, running towards you again. His smaller frame provided him with an advantage as he jumped onto your shoulders, before he could land his blow, you flipped your body, sending him to the floor, landing on his back with a thud. You crouched over him, extending your hand.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” he took your hand, getting up to his feet, you gave him a soft smile, which he returned, giving you a nod of approval. He, like Bruce, didn’t often use his words, but you were able to discern their intentions just fine. 

Bruce then led you to a machine he had in the cave, where it analyzed your genetics in comparison to Clark’s, he had determined you were missing the genetic composition that happened to be the main source of invulnerability, therefore the reason you were the way you were. You are unfortunately still weak when exposed to kryptonite. 

You were tired by the end of the night. You felt you had bonded with Damian, he had asked you to spar with him another time, to which you agreed.

The next day, Bruce had sent you over to Smallville, where Clark had decided on training you, ‘A good old fashioned open field’ were his exact words.

He made sure to send you wearing your original suit, not knowing how fast you would be flying, just in case, only you didn’t like it, so you opted to wear some sweats over the suit. 

And there you were, floating about 300 feet in the air with him, as he explained the basics of flying. 

“You want to create your own leverage, using your flight, you should be able to do this.” He bent one leg, tilting to the right as he effortlessly glided in that direction, he repeated the action only now going in the opposite direction. 

You nodded, imitating his movements, gliding from side to side before stopping and looking at him. He smiled brightly at you, “You’re doing great, kid. There was never a point where you didn’t have powers, so this should be easy. Now, we’ll test your speed.” 

You nodded, “How are we doing that?”

He pulled out a stopwatch, “I’m going to wait here while you fly to Gotham and back. You know the route?” 

You nodded. 

“Okay… and…. Go!”

You immediately shot forward, a slightly bumpy start but your body adapted immediately, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and a smile spread across your face as you made a U-turn around Gotham, making it back to Clark in seconds. 

“2.6 seconds. That’s good.” He smiled at you. 

You went on like that for the next few hours, him giving you encouraging words of advice, and you gained better control over your abilities, him providing you with tips he learned over the years. For that last hour, Jon and Conner joined the two of you, the four of you eventually just playing air tag until Martha and Lois called you in for dinner. 

They insisted you stay for dinner, and you had no mind to refuse, spending time with them was nice. Jon insisted he sat next to you at dinner, excitedly talking your ear off about whatever he’d gotten to that day, and sharing his favorite stories about Damian with you. He acts like he doesn't like people, but he’s got a soft spot for a lot of us, were his exact words. You honestly completely agreed, you smiled at him as he continued talking. 

That day you’d gotten to know Martha and Jonanthan Kent, who insisted you called them Ma and Pa. They instantly coddled you as if they’d known you since birth, though, in a way, that is technically the case. 

They didn't let you leave empty handed, sending you off with tupper-ware filled with leftovers, cookies and pie. You thanked them for their hospitality and headed back to the manor. 

The next few months were mainly doing morning and evening training with Bruce, occasionally Dick would stop by to train with you, always telling you he was proud of your improvement, which never failed to make you glow just a little brighter with pride. He’d begun a tradition where he would treat you to a burger after training, or whatever it was you were craving. He said that it was his goal to get you to try every fast food joint in Gotham, deciding that it was just an essential part of living there. You quickly decided you hated fast food, but never said anything because that wasn’t at all what mattered to you, what mattered to you was the bond you were creating with your older brother. 

Your relationship with Bruce wasn’t perfect. There were times you saw how focused he was on his mission, neglecting the feelings of those around him, he could be an asshole. And with you still navigating your emotions, you’d get angry and yell, and so would he. If you saw him brushing off Damian, or Tim, one look at the crestfallen expressions on their faces was enough to get you angry. You shouldn’t have been surprised, truthfully, you weren’t. You were too similar. You were just fortunate enough to be surrounded by people early on who could convince you to let them in. 

Regardless of the imperfections between you and Bruce, you knew he cared. He always showed it with the small smile he’d give you as he held up two tickets to the movie you had wanted to see. Or in the way he’d lure everyone into the living room with snacks for a movie night. Or how he’d try his best to always express to you that you were doing well. That you were enough, and that you deserved to be there. 

You’d grown closer with Tim, too, always willing to help him with his assignments (not that he often needed it, but on the rare occasions his sleep deprived self couldn’t wrap his head around a problem). You’d often go to him when you needed help figuring something out on your phone, to which he would offer a simple solution you hadn’t seen before.

Tim was kind, he showed he cared for you by fixing things, when you cracked your screen protector by accidentally tapping it too hard, he made you a new one that could withstand the force of a bullet. He learned to confide in you over time, telling you about Bernard, expressing his worries to you about whether or not he’s good enough. You’d always tell him he was more than good enough. 

Damian had taken to calling you ‘sister’, often challenging and teasing you when he could, you’d developed a relationship where he’d go to you for company. You’d sit in the garden and take in the life around you, while he sat a few feet away and drew it.

Once, he drew you while you weren’t looking, when he finished, he handed it to you without a word and walked away. In the bottom right corner you read ‘Y/n Wayne-Kent’ in neat handwriting, just below that, ‘sister’. That was the first time he’d used that word for you. Your heart swelled. 

You continued seeing Steph, Barbara, and Cass, regularly having lunch with them and talking with them on the phone. Barbara, or as you now called her, Babs, was always there to guide you when you needed it, she’d often send you small gifts from time to time, like jewelry that reminded her of you.

Cass and you would often find the most peaceful company in each other. She would listen to you talk about all the things you'd been learning, telling you about her own experience adjusting to a new life.

Steph and you bonded over poorly written hallmark movies, she always giggled madly when you would point out plot inconsistencies, wearing the most confused expression she had ever seen on a person, you didn’t understand why at first, you would just state facts, but you always enjoyed the time with her. She always says you guys should start a podcast, and you always agree. You hope she never asks you what a podcast is... because you genuinely didn't know.

True to his word, you didn’t see Jason often, but there were a few instances  where you felt particularly suffocated by Bruce’s training that you took him up on his offer to take you somewhere he wasn’t. Those moments were... nice. Every time, he would bring food, and take you to his apartment, where you talked about books and he introduced you to some of his favorite movies. You didn’t know why he and Bruce didn’t get along, but you chose not to pry.

Alfred had taken a liking to you instantly, he enjoyed giving you etiquette lessons, and would bake all kinds of scones and cookies for you to try. His humor was at times very dry and sarcastic, which never failed to make you laugh. He taught you how to bake once, finding you were exceptionally good at it, ‘Miss Y/n, I think we’ve found your natural talent’. You hadn’t expected to be good at it, but Alfred said you were phenomenal. 

You’d also train with Clark 3 times a week, getting even closer with the Kents, integrating yourself in both families. It was interesting being part of two very different families. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Clark had shown you a lot about your powers, but it was never just training. It had become a necessity for the two of you to fly to some famous landmark and have lunch together, before flying back to Smallville for more training.

Clark was constantly trying his best for you, he still had his regrets from his initial relationship with Conner, and although he was forgiven and their relationship was rebuilt, he knew he lost time. And he absolutely refused to repeat that and hurt someone else who didn’t deserve it. 

You always stayed for dinner, you found that you could never say no to Jon, the one time you tried was awful, you felt so bad that you went back the next day and took him shopping. With Bruce's card, duh.

Jon was stuck to you like glue whenever you were over. He always insisted on sitting by you and talking to you about whatever he’d been up to. He flew around with you a lot, you guys would play games that he taught you how to play. Your favorite moments were when he and Damian would allow you in to watch them play video games because ‘How do you not know how to play video games? That’s just wrong. We’ll teach you.’

Conner had spent more and more time with you as well, telling you about a lot of social cues, the importance of boundaries, etc. He was determined to help you adjust in every way he could, he shared his experiences with you when he first started working in teams. You learned a lot from him, he was very affectionate with you, but in that awkward-older-brother way. He’d give you a soft pat on the back and a smile, he knew you’d do just fine. 

Lois became your role model, you truly admired her. She was strong, outspoken, confident. She helped you not be afraid of forming your own opinions and voicing them. One time she saw you yell at Bruce over something he’d done, and all she could do was smile proudly.

These people whose lives you just appeared in one day, very quickly became your family. Every day you were reminded of how lucky you were to have come to care for them as much as you do. Bonding with them was nice, and you very quickly understood the appeal of having family.

These are people who care for you unconditionally, simply because they want to. Because every moment that they spend with you, they choose to.

And just like that, you were ready to meet the team. You had learned to combine your combat skills with your powers, if you need to, you can fight in mid air. You’d learned to incorporate your abilities into your technique to enhance your own personal style. And it felt amazing.

You knew every possible way to deliver an effective, non-lethal blow.  Of course, you needed a suit. Bruce offered to enhance the one you had worn the day they rescued you, but you wanted a new one. To you, that suit represented what you were created to be, and that is not who you are. You wanted something true to yourself, and he understood and wholeheartedly supported you. Damian helped you make a sketch, and together you’d designed the perfect representation of you. And you became Eclipse. The alignment of two heroes, though unintentional, created a whole new hero. You.

Taglist- @one-green-frog @bonniecat @minnieearsposts @chickentenderx @murkyponds @loserwithnofriends @ilikefanfics4 @fangirlvibez @instantplaiddream @lovelywritersgarden @calicocat45 @strawberrycreamh @sappynappysworld @zyuuuu @allycat4458 @lovelypitasworld @batfamlover @pterodactyl-hater @american-idiot21 @starlets-things @th1s-b1tch-1s-dead @dontgivemeyourname @normal-internet-user @sillyfinn @lostgirlsstuff @llvmakk @princess76179 @vanessa-boo @1lellykins @blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings @samibrewss @pickyblue12 @thetiredtoad0-0 @lacklustertrashbag (I'm not sure why some people's tags didn't work,, I am very sorry, if anyone has suggestions onhow to fix that i'm open to fix them)

[shina913]

Crossfade | CHS

Pairing: Chwe Hansol (Vernon) x AFAB!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: S2L; fluff; smut

Warnings: cussing; breast play; fingering; oral (both giving/receiving); protected sex; PIV sex; dirty talk

Word count: 5k(ish) words

Summary: After a concert, you meet Hansol on a crowded train when you accidentally bump into each other. One thing leads to another, and soon you find yourself exploring his vinyl collection.

A/N: I finally put all the Vernon visuals that have been plaguing my mind for months now to good use! I'm also just really glad I got to finish this (took me long enough)! Thanks to @roaminginthenights for always enabling me in the DMs 🤣

This is also un-beta'd so...it is what it is.

Your ears still rang with echoes from tonight’s concert as you boarded the train home near the arena. The car was packed and personal space became nonexistent. Despite that, the show’s excitement hadn’t worn off. Your group huddled around a single metal railing, animatedly discussing favorite moments—from surprise guests to the ever-changing encore set.

”Doors are closing,” the operator announced through the intercom. A few more concertgoers exiting the venue sprinted toward the platform, desperate to avoid a thirty-minute wait for the next train.

Mid-conversation about the show’s highlights, another group suddenly pushed into the crowded car, nearly causing you to face-plant into your friend. Just as anger flared up, you caught sight of warm, brown eyes belonging to someone behind the person who bumped you. The brown-eyed man stepped forward and offered a sincere apology for his friend’s clumsy entrance.

Time slowed, and the ringing in your ears faded as you heard him speak.

“Are you okay? Sorry, my buddy’s a bit of a klutz.” Mr. Brown Eyes shot his friend a warning look, prompting another round of apologies from him.

It took you a moment to respond. “Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you muttered, blinking slowly.

He turned to check on your friend whom you had stumbled into. While you struggled for words, she responded with enthusiasm: “You can run through me anytime, honey.”

Mortified, you gave her a subtle elbow nudge to shush her, but it just made her laugh more. His lips curved into a slow smile, getting a kick out of your friend’s flirty comment.

The train jerked into motion and you lost your footing again, stumbling right into him. He acted fast, circling his arm around your waist to hold you steady.

As you stood close to him, you caught a whiff of his subtle but inviting fragrance. You resisted the urge to press your nose against his skin to identify the exact scent notes of his cologne.

“Hey, are you alright there?”

Now it was your turn to stammer an apology.

“I’m…so sorry.”

He offered another smile as you regained your footing. “It’s alright. I got you.”

His eyes were like deep pools, inviting you to dive right in. If it were up to you, you’d have lost yourself in them any day—just not tonight as you heard your friends from a distance, complaining about post-concert hunger.

“I, uhm, have to get back. Thank you, though.”

A flicker of reluctance crossed his face, but he gave a polite nod and released you.

“My pleasure. Have a good night,” he said as you pulled away to rejoin your group. He returned to his friends, who stood not too far from your group.

One of your friends suggested grabbing late-night burgers and fries at a local diner a couple of stops away. Through the sound of the train car’s humming, you caught the brown-eyed stranger’s voice as he suggested the very same diner to his friends.

When the train reached the stop, your group off-boarded with him and his friends following behind.

Pushing open the diner’s door, you were greeted by a wall of sound and energy—evidently, you weren’t the only ones who craved a bite to eat after the show.

The diner had transformed into an impromptu continuation of the concert, the speakers blasting the same artist’s hits.

Your group managed to claim a booth, and just as you were settling in, you spotted him and his friends entering. They also immediately caught the infectious energy of the place, their faces lighting up with excitement.

He scanned the room for a familiar face—and though you hated to admit it, watching him search was thrilling. You lowered your menu and held his gaze, willing him to look your way. When he finally spotted you, he gave a subtle smile of acknowledgment before following his group to their table across the room.

********

After scarfing down a burger and way too many fries, the diner owner cranked up the volume, transforming the main dining area into a massive dance floor. People started moving between tables and you and your friends slid out of your booth to join the crowd, dancing and singing along.

Somewhere in the middle of this spontaneous celebration, the man from the train weaved through, making his way to you until you were standing face to face.

“Long time, no see.” There was that smile again. You caught your lower lip between your teeth, trying to contain your excitement.

“Hey.”

The music and crowd were getting louder and it became challenging to try and have an intimate conversation. He leaned into your ear, his warm breath traveling down your neck. “Did you enjoy the show tonight?”

“I did. You?” You mirrored his action, tilting your head up to his ear.

He nodded, his gaze following the gentle rhythm of your hips swaying to the infectious beat of the song. The pulsing music around you gradually faded into a muffled hum as his eyes remained fixed on you, creating your own little bubble in the midst of the crowded diner.

Like déjà vu, your bubble burst when enthusiastic dancers behind him stumbled, causing him to pitch forward. Your reflexes kicked in as your hands gripped his shoulders to steady him, catching him by surprise.

He flashed a smile, mouthing both thanks and apologies. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m just happy I could return the favor,” you grinned, watching him regain his composure.

“Hope I didn’t step on your toes?”

You laughed, shaking your head no.

After a moment’s hesitation, he relaxed and decided to introduce himself. “My name’s Hansol. What’s yours?”

Unsure what to expect from this encounter, you paused. Sure, you found him attractive, but you thought tonight would be more like a one-off. Plus, the mystery kept things interesting.

You responded with a playful laugh and raised an eyebrow at him.

His eyes crinkled with amusement. “I just want to remember who I’m dancing with.”

Okay…he’s sweet. Despite your best efforts to stay cautious, you gave in. He seemed sincere, and meeting this way felt more natural than through dating apps.

You told him your name.

He repeated it carefully, testing each syllable to make sure he said it correctly. When he said it with more confidence, you nodded in approval.

“Do you like music?”

“Isn’t that kind of obvious since I went to a concert?” you teased.

His laugh at your sarcastic response made you smile—most people would have already rolled their eyes. Sensing his genuine intentions, you let your guard down a bit and pulled back on the snark. “Sorry,” you apologized. “I do—I love all kinds of music. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you see…” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I have this vinyl collection at my place.”

Your eyebrows lifted with curiosity, which he misread as concern.

“I promise that’s not some weird code for anything,” he quickly reassured you. “I just thought you might like to listen to a few records.”

You’d always found people with vinyl collections interesting. There was something about someone who takes the time to curate physical albums in this age of streamed music. What inspired them to start collecting? What stories hid behind each carefully chosen album? What kind of music shaped their taste?

You smiled and answered, “Sure, why not?”

************

“Make yourself at home,” he invited with a warm smile, stepping aside to allow you to enter first.

Hansol’s apartment looked neat, especially for a young guy who lived alone. The shoes were neatly organized in a rack by the doorway, and there weren’t any dirty dishes in the sink as you walked past the kitchen.

When you stepped into the living space, you were immediately awestruck by the breathtaking floor-to-ceiling shelves that dominated two entire walls of his living room—each one meticulously organized with vinyl records—hundreds of them!

“Can I get you anything to drink?” He called out from the kitchen. “I have beer…” he took a quick inventory of his fridge, “and water.”

“Water is fine, thanks. It’s a little late.” You found yourself drawn to his collection, moving closer to examine it. Your fingers brushed the cardboard sleeves of the albums, feeling the different textures of each one.

A glass appeared in your peripheral vision. You turned and accepted it from him.

“Have you lived here long?” You made an attempt at small talk after taking a sip.

He narrowed his eyes to think back. “About two years now, I think? I used to move around a lot because of my job.”

“Must be difficult to transport all this,” you gestured at his expansive collection.

He laughed. “You can say that. But I hire some really good movers, especially for my records. I have a lot of vintage albums and I need people who can handle them with care.”

You explored his collection some more, spotting some familiar artists and albums while discovering others you’d never encountered before. Some titles sounded obscure and indie; some limited pressings with handwritten labels that hinted at his appreciation for musical rarities beyond mainstream catalogues.

“Pick one,” he encouraged softly. “I have them organized alphabetically by artist, then chronologically by year of release.”

There was always one album that popped into your head first when you thought of records, but you wondered if he had it. You moved toward the index divider that indicated the letter of the alphabet of that artist.

You knew the album title by heart, but the exact release year escaped you—all you remembered was that it was very old.

Just as you were about to move onto a different artist, a familiar spine caught your eye. You couldn’t help but smile, pleasantly surprised to find this in his collection. Carefully, you slid the album out of the shelf and handed it to him.

His eyebrows quirked as he examined your selection, then his eyes flicked up to meet yours. “Interesting choice.”

You tilted your head to one side, curiosity piqued by his cryptic comment. “Why’s that?”

He shrugged. “I just didn’t expect you to pick this album”

“Well, I also didn’t expect to be in a stranger’s apartment listening to records, yet here we are.” You turned and took a seat on the couch.

“Fair.”

Hansol’s audio setup was meticulous—an analog control panel with knobs and manual sliders to adjust bass, treble, and vocals. Each control featured its own illuminated meter that glowed when he powered on the system, connecting to strategically placed speakers and subwoofers throughout the room. It was an audiophile’s dream.

The moment felt almost ceremonial as he placed the record on the turntable. Once the needle glided over the record’s grooves, the typical crackling sound echoed before the first track’s opening notes emerged. Nostalgia began to trickle in.

“Any reason why you chose this one?” he asked after propping the empty album sleeve on a stand next to the player.

“It’s…kind of cheesy,” you shook your head, turning sheepish.

He settled beside you. “No, really. I’d like to know the story behind this,” he said, sounding genuinely curious.

You felt vulnerable under his gaze, but something about it made you feel safe. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Try me.”

You narrowed your eyes briefly, wondering if you should share a personal memory to this stranger you had just met.

He waited patiently, careful not to press too hard so he didn’t cross that line.

What the hell. You had sprung right for his invitation despite only a few lines of conversation between you.

You cleared your throat. “So when I was little, my grandparents used to babysit me often, and they would play this album whenever I was at their house.” Your voice softened at the memory. “They’ve been gone a while, but this album always reminds of them.”

A smile broke through his lips.

“You said you weren’t going to laugh!”

“I’m not laughing,” he insisted, his face remaining neutral.

“No, I know it’s sappy,” you groaned, suddenly feeling self-conscious about your sentimentality.

“Not at all. I think that’s really sweet. I also happen to love this album,” he confessed. “I won it from an online auction. I even got into a bidding war with somebody from some place I can’t pronounce.”

His anecdote brought a smile to your face. Then, he delved into the album’s history, explaining its conception, the intricate recording process, and how the artist crafted it as a profound declaration of love for their partner.

Maybe it was the lingering rush of endorphins from tonight’s concert, but you found yourself utterly captivated not just by the random trivia, but by the enthusiastic way he waxed poetic about it. It was as if he’d held onto all this information, only waiting for the right person to tell it to.

You turned to face him, tucking one leg beneath you while resting your elbow against the back of the sofa. Leaning your head against your palm, you gave him your full attention as he continued on.

Suddenly, he paused, realizing you hadn’t said anything in a while. “I’m sorry—I just kind of went off on a tangent there. I didn’t mean to monopolize the conversation.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I’m just listening.” You wished you had come across more people like him who were passionate enough about something, and who had dedicated so much time to studying it and understanding it enough so they could convince other people about how amazing it is.

You set your empty glass on the coffee table and shifted your position, settling back into the couch cushions. This time, you narrowed the space between you, your shoulder almost brushing against his as you leaned in.

“Digital music these days is so different. With records, you catch all these hidden gems—a spontaneous ad lib or an extra guitar riff that would’ve been edited out of modern recordings. That’s what makes them so special.”

Unable to resist your closeness, he reached across and let his fingertips skim over your forearm, leaving goosebumps in their trail. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The conversation faded into a comfortable silence, dark eyes locked into you as he shifted closer, cupping your jaw. His face was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. You close your eyes in anticipation…and then, he was gone.

“Shit,” He jumped up as soon as he heard the track skipping, hurrying to the player to carefully lift the tone arm before it did more damage to the record. He sighed and smiled regretfully. “Gotta love vintage.”

You shrugged, “S’okay.”

He glanced at your empty glass. “Do you want a refill?”

What you’d really liked him to do was come back on the couch next to you. Before you got a chance to answer, your phone buzzed from your purse. Checking the screen, you found your friend’s caller ID flashing.

“Sorry, I need to take this.” You rushed down a hallway, away from the living room, before picking up.

Your friend was panicking when she heard your voice, asking if you were okay since you hadn’t checked in. You had a system for safety when you were out with guys—regular check-ins were the rule. This was your first time missing a text update, though she could still track your location. Speaking quietly, you reassured her that everything was fine and promised to call her once you got home—which seemed to placate her.

“Is everything okay?” Hansol asked the moment you hung up.

When you turned to face him, his tall, lean frame filled the narrow hallway as he leaned against the wall, his expression concerned. In the brief silence before you answered, you noticed music drifting through the room again—he must have flipped the record to its B-side while you were on the phone.

“Yeah. It’s just my friend checking in.” You tried to keep your voice steady despite how much his presence affected you.

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed, pushing off the wall to make his way toward you. “Do you have to leave?”

“I don’t have to.” The words came out softer than intended, but they made his eyes light up with interest.

His lips quirked in a small smile as he moved closer, the hallway feeling much narrower than it already was. “That’s good to hear.”

“Oh? How so?” You stayed rooted to your position, heart racing as you awaited his next move.

He drew closer until you were pressed against the wall, making it increasingly difficult to maintain coherent thoughts.

“I was hoping I could play you some more records,” his voice dropping lower. “I have some more favorites I’d love to share with you.”

“But you have so many.” Your voice wavered despite your attempt to keep it together (and spectacularly failing). “We could be here all night.”

His eyes danced with amusement as they roamed over your features. “I fail to see the problem there. Unless…you don’t want to, of course?” His voice was gentle, allowing you an easy out if you wanted to take it.

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Bringing your face closer to his, you asked, “You think you can keep me entertained with your records all night?”

He brushed his nose against yours, the gentle contact sending shivers through your entire body. “I have other ways to keep you entertained, if you’re interested.”

You turned your head toward the end of the hallway, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite his proximity to you.

“What’s back there?” You jutted your chin, though you already knew the answer.

“My bedroom.”

“Ah.” You tried to sound casual, but your pulse quickened, your breath catching slightly in your throat as you swallowed hard.

“Would you...like to see it?”

“Are there more records in there?” You asked playfully, your fingers itching to touch him.

“Would you go in if I said there were?”

His face hovered inches from yours, his breath ghosting across your lips. The slight part of his mouth a silent invitation—one that tested the limits of your self-control.

So you succumbed to desire, bunching the hem of his shirt in your hand and pulling him in, eliminating what little space remained between you, sealing your mouth over his.

His fingertips skated gently down your arm until they reached your hand. Linking your fingers together and backing into the bedroom, taking you with him.

******

His bedroom was just as neat as the front room—every surface pristine and organized—though you barely had time to appreciate it before his arms captured you, his lips finding yours again.

Guiding you to the bed, he sat down and drew you between his knees, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

You peeled off his shirt, and he helped you out of yours, both of you savoring each newly exposed inch of skin.

You took a moment to admire the sight of him gazing up at you from his seated position—his bare chest rising and falling with quickened breaths, eyes filled with barely-contained eagerness and a hint of vulnerability.

Something about him felt inexplicably familiar. Despite having only met by chance, you felt a connection between you—one that felt mutual, judging by the way his lips moved against yours.

His fingers traced up your arms to your shoulders, where he slowly slipped your bra straps down, sending goosebumps racing across your skin. You reached behind to undo the clasp, letting him pull the black lace fabric away.

Your breath caught when his thumb grazed your nipple. You cradled his jaw, tilting his face up to yours and sweeping your tongue across his lips. His hands rested on your hips while he trailed kisses down your abdomen. Your body arched toward him, craving more of his touch.

You eased yourself onto the mattress, straddling his thighs. Your fingers wove through his hair, angling his head just right to slot your mouth with yours.

He slowly fell back onto the bed, pulling you with him until you were pressed against his chest.

Wrapping his arms around you, he rolled you beneath him, nuzzled briefly against your throat, then moved lower. He teased your nipples with soft brushes of his lips and slow, gentle licks. You squeezed your shut, whimpered and tugged his head closer, your skin heating to his touch.

“More?” He asked as his mouth hovered over a hardened tip.

“Yes.”

He wrapped his lips around your breast, drawing it into the wet heat of his mouth. Your thighs instinctively tightened against his sides as pleasure coursed through you, your core aching with need.

He trailed downward, pausing to swirl his tongue around your navel in teasing circles. Your stomach tensed as a shaky whimper escaped your lips, making him smile against your skin.

He slid your bottoms down your legs, tossing it on the floor. Once exposed before him, he positioned your knees over his shoulders. Cupping beneath you with both hands, he lifted you to his waiting mouth. His nose pressed against the apex of your thighs as he drew his tongue slowly along your sensitive flesh. Your muscles went slack against the sheets, all traces of tension melting away.

He continued lavishing attention on your sensitive folds, drawing desperate sounds from your throat. His tongue circled your center before he wrapped his lips around it, applying light suction that made you instinctively press your legs together. His firm grip kept you spread open, completely at his mercy.

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them perfectly, making you groan and buck against his touch. You chased the sensation as he alternated between feather-light flicks of his tongue and steady strokes. Your pulse thrummed, your core tightening as you edged closer to your peak.

You exhaled sharply as your orgasm took hold, a lingering moan escaped your lips. Your thighs trembled while he slowed his fingers to draw out your pleasure, punctuating it with gentle laps against your swollen bud.

He shifted carefully from under your wobbly legs and reached over his nightstand.

While he busied himself with the condom wrapper, you seized an opportunity—sitting up and undoing his pants, pulling his boxers down until his hard length sprang free. Your mouth watered when you took his cock in your hand, pumping slowly, before lowering your lips to suck on the tip. You looked up to see him staring down at you, slack-jawed while you took him in deeper.

He craned his neck, watching your head bob up and down. When you hollowed your cheeks, he exhaled sharply, eyes squeezing shut.

His breathing became ragged, one hand on your nape while he kept the other tightly fisted on his side to maintain some semblance of control. You thrust him into your mouth repeatedly, working him fast and deep, his flesh silky against your tongue. The friction from your quickening strokes and his responding groans of appreciation sent waves of arousal through you both.

Unable to stand it any longer, when you pulled up, he broke from your hold with a wet pop.

Your feigned disappointment makes him chuckle. “I’m not coming that way,” he tutted. Cupping your chin, he gives you a chaste kiss.

You watch eagerly as he sheathes himself with a condom, then nudges your legs wider to guide his length to your entrance.

Your eyes fluttered as he eased in the first inch. He let your body set the pace, patiently waiting as your muscles stretched to accommodate him.

Peering upward, you found him flushed and bright-eyed, a sheen of sweat dotting his brow as he sank deeper with achingly slow precision. He cupped your head, holding you still while he eased down to the hilt.

Lifting his hips, he withdrew completely before sinking back in—still slow but purposeful. Your inner walls constricted, eliciting deep groans from you both. He gritted his teeth, fighting against the urge to fuck you without restraint—though you wouldn’t mind if he did.

He pressed his chest to yours and you’re mesmerized by the raw pleasure etched across his features—each furrow of his brow, every sigh that escaped from his parted lips with each downward stroke pushed you closer to the edge.

“I don’t know if I can last long. You feel...fucking amazing.” He thrust at a steady pace while peppering soft kisses along your neck.

You moaned as he sank deeper, your fingers gripping his ass while grinding your hips against him.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” he said with a laugh, pausing his movements.

“I fail to see the problem there,” you say with a raised eyebrow, throwing his earlier cheeky remark back at him. “You can go harder. I can take it.”

He narrowed his eyes, then dipped down to playfully nip at your lower lip. Suddenly, you felt empty, realizing that he’d pulled out.

Before you could protest, you were flipped on all fours, his knees spreading you wider for him.

The pounding in your clit and the needy clenching of your empty cunt drove you insane, even more when he stroked your wet folds teasingly.

Bending over you, he gasped in your ear, “Want me to fuck you hard, huh?”

“Yes, please…” you begged him.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. Soon enough, he pushed back inside you, your walls clenching and drawing him deeper.

Pressing your cheek to the mattress, you angled your hips higher to meet each thrust. Your eagerness spurred his own primal need to come. He pounded into you, tears stinging your eyes from raw pleasure. Each slam of his hips delivered exactly what you’d begged for—over and over again.

Your core tensed as he thrust forward, his movements steady and rough. His breath came in harsh pants, struggling to maintain control with each deep plunge.

You reached between your legs to rub your pulsing clit, until your last shred of control dissipated.

Just like that, you shattered under him on a breathy cry, coming harder than the first time.

You were just coming down from your high when he rolled you on your back again.

He hovered over you, slotting himself between your legs. His cock parted your folds, and with how wet you were, he slid right in. Even though your core still hummed with the remnants of your orgasm, your want began to build again as soon as his lips found yours.

Suddenly, you didn’t mind the slower pace. Every stroke of his tongue in your mouth turned you on more than the slide of his cock.

Completely consumed by desire, your mouths and bodies undulated, moans and cries of pleasure echoing through his bedroom walls.

His thrusts then became more urgent, more ragged; giving up all control. He quickened his last few drives, sending him over the edge.

He grunted and held himself deep in you, pulsing with each wave of his climax washing over him. His fingers dug into your flesh—sure to leave bruises tomorrow—before he collapsed on top of you, joining you in your aftermath.

*******

The morning peeked through the curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the rumpled sheets on Hansol’s bed. You stirred, stretching a hand out across—only to find the space empty. The sound of the front door shutting caught your attention, followed shortly by soft music drifting from somewhere in the apartment. Curiosity pulled you out of bed.

You found your clothes and padded your way to the kitchen, where Hansol was arranging breakfast.

“Morning,” you greeted him quietly.

He turned around, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Hey,” he said, sliding a cup of coffee your way, along with some cream and sugar. “I wasn’t sure how you took it, so I got everything. I also have some tea, if you’re not a coffee person.”

“No, no—I love coffee, thank you,” you said as you settled on a seat by the counter. You reached for the cup and added your cream and sugar. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” he replied, rounding the corner to take the seat next to you. He pushed a plate in your direction, piled with still-warm croissants and muffins. “These are really good, if I say so myself. The bakery down the street makes them fresh every day.”

You thanked him again and helped yourself to a pastry. “So…you do this often?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

“You mean eat breakfast?”

You laughed softly at his remark, then clarified, “No. I mean—invite strangers to your place, play them records…sweep them off their feet?”

Suddenly flustered, he shook his head. “Never. I don’t really do this kind of thing. But for some reason, last night felt...different.” His eyes met yours in earnest. “Different in a good way,” he added softly.

You hid your smile behind your coffee cup, feeling a flutter in your chest at his response.

The record player spun quietly in the background, filling the comfortable silence between you.

“Do you have any plans today?” He asks slowly.

“No, why?”

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to stay a little longer. Or if not, maybe we could go on a proper date sometime—one that doesn’t start with a record and end with our clothes on my floor?”

He watched as you took a slow sip of your coffee. A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you considered his offer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

His whole face lit up. “Yeah?”

You nod.

“Great,” he said, with a quiet enthusiasm that made you feel like you just made his entire day.

“Although—I would like to go home for a bit and freshen up, maybe grab a change of clothes.” You gestured at your outfit from the night before. You weren’t exactly dressed for a full day out. “But after that, I’m all yours for whatever you have in mind?”

“Oh, of course! I can drive you home whenever you’re ready. There’s no rush,” he offered.

You nodded and smiled, already feeling excited about the possibilities the day might hold.

“Also, just so you know—”

He glanced up from his coffee cup, curious.

“I don’t mind doing the rest of the stuff after, too. You know, if you’re up to it,” you said casually.

He gave you a knowing smile before he took a sip. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Main SVT Fic Masterlist

Thank you for reading!

Interaction/feedback is appreciated but *not* required. But just in case you feel comfortable enough to comment or just say hello, my inbox 📩 is open 💜💎

[itoshiexx]

when you call them "husband"

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you call them "husband".

pairings: itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, isagi yoichi x fem!reader (no descriptions tho, just the words "mrs." and "wifey") (separate) | warnings: established relationship, fluff, kissing, the boys are simps, shidou is a warning itself

notes: hi guys! another one of these scenarios since you guys seemed to like the other one so much <3 thank you for all your love and support! also it's my first time writing for shidou so i hope this isn't absolute garbage.

ITOSHI SAE

one of your and sae’s favorite couple activities was driving around the city. you loved the feeling of madrid’s summer breeze kissing your face and messing up your hair, and sae… well, he would never admit that, but sae loved anything that made you happy, even if it meant driving with no clear destination in mind until his feet hurt. so it was no wonder you convinced him to do just that on that afternoon.

after half an hour of wandering around town on a porsche, you decided that some starbucks would do both of you well. your little pleading eyes quickly convinced sae to stop by one, letting you order since the intercom was on your side.

“welcome to starbucks, what can i get for you today?” the man’s voice came out of the intercom, the spanish accent still making it a bit difficult for sae to fully comprehend, despite living in madrid for years now. 

“hi! i’d like a caramel frappuccino and a chocolate muffin, please.”

“anything else?”

you turned to him, asking in a whisper, “what do you want, baby?”

“just an iced matcha tea latte.” he shrugged. you smiled, and sae had to fight the urge to smile too. it was maddening, really — how much of an effect you had on him with something as simple as a turn of lips.

he watched as you turned back to the intercom, “and my husband wants an iced matcha tea latte. that would be all, thank you.”

distracted, sae started to take his foot off the brake to go to the payment booth, but suddenly his body froze. he furrowed his eyebrows, confusion etched on his teal eyes.

wait. 

fucking wait. 

sae didn’t register what the guy on the intercom said next, much less what you answered. he didn’t even notice the line of cars behind him and the need to move forward. all that mattered was that one word that fell from your mouth seconds prior.

“what did you call me?” he asked, silently afraid that it was all a trick from his mind fed on his deepest wishes. 

it was only then you seemed to realize what you said. “o-oh, i… i’m sorry, it just— it just came out…” you squeaked, bashful. fuck, you were so pretty like that, with your cheeks rosy while averting his gaze. 

sae smirked, pinching your chin so that you would look at him. he kissed you with a sweetness that wasn’t usually present in his bitter mouth, and you melted at his gentleness. 

“don’t apologize,” he said as he broke the kiss. “i liked that, mrs. itoshi.”

it seemed like it was finally time for that velvet box on the bottom of his drawer.

SHIDOU RYUSEI

peace. peace was all you wished for — at least a little bit. five minutes on the phone to schedule an appointment was not asking for much, was it?

apparently, for shidou, it was.

you were well aware your boyfriend was selfish, and that was an universal rule when it came to your attention. considering he spent a lot of time away for games overseas, you couldn’t blame him for wanting some time alone, since you wanted it too. 

however, you really needed to schedule your doctor’s appointment, and your whiny boyfriend was making this task extremely difficult. every time you started talking to the lady on the other side of the phone, ryusei would butt in with very unnecessary comments that made your eyes roll. you apologized profusely to the woman about a hundred times, and she assured you it was okay. she even said it was sweet. 

if you weren’t so annoyed, you would have thought it was sweet, too. ryusei was never one to shy away from expressing his love, even if it meant embarrassing you and himself in the process (although he was completely shameless, so it made no difference).

“will anyone pick you up after your exam, ma’m?”

you could faintly hear what the woman was saying, since shidou was babbling nonsense in your ear as if you weren’t on a phone call. it made you sigh, and you rubbed the bridge of your nose.

“yes, my husband will pick me up.”

and then, silence. 

it took you a minute to realize that the outside noise disappeared and ryusei had completely stopped talking. you blinked a couple times, confused, and turned your head to look at your boyfriend sitting on the couch. to your surprise, he was blushing and gaping like a fish, in what seemed to be utter disbelief.

you braced yourself for what was about to come. 

“HUSBAND?!”

ah, there it is. his scream pierced through the living room, and you were certain even the other side of the country heard it. 

“thank you for everything, ma’m. i should be going now,” you told the receptionist. she only giggled and wished you a good day. 

the second you put your phone down, ryusei’s arms were around your middle, lifting you up and twirling you around like some cliche romance movie. your prior annoyance melted away in a second, and you could only giggle like a schoolgirl in love. 

“awww, ya wanna be my wifey?” he cooed, putting you down without letting you go. his nose touched yours and you blushed with the intensity of his stare. 

though you wouldn’t back down. 

“of course i do, ryu.” you smiled sweetly. your boyfriend stared at you, shocked and bashful for the second time in the span of five minutes, and then groaned when broken from his stupor. 

what a little devil, he thought. 

and then he kissed you, intense and dominating like only ryusei knew how to be, prodding his tongue in your mouth when you gasped and savoring every corner of your mouth. it was one of those kisses that swept you off your feet and left you dizzy, and he could tell from the hazy look in your eyes when he finally backed away.

“fuck, i love you so much. you ‘gon be my wifey, baby, i promise ya.”

ISAGI YOICHI

you were usually the one to accompany yoichi to parties — mostly galas thrown by sponsors who wanted to secure a deal with some sports hotshot —, so, for him, it was a breath of fresh air to be your plus one on the holiday party of the company you worked for. 

since the company in question was a corporation, it was no wonder the decoration was flawless, with lots of gold and red to represent the christmas that would soon arrive. the soundtrack was mainly composed of classical music, and he smiled watching you enjoying a vivaldi song. it reminded him of the early days of your relationship, where you teached him about your favorite classic musicians such as beethoven, mozart, ludovico einaudi and chopin.

your arms were linked as you wandered around the hall, and, non surprisingly, everyone seemed to want to talk to you. of course they would; you were the sweetest, kindest and smartest soul to walk on this earth. isagi couldn’t be more proud of all the recognition you were getting, because you deserved more than anyone he knew. 

“are you having fun, baby?” you suddenly asked. the striker finally noticed he had been staring at you for a while as you drank a glass of champagne. he blushed, but nodded. 

“how could i not? i’m with you.”

a giggle left your lips along with a fond roll of your eyes, and yoichi couldn’t help but think that, if he could listen to a single sound forever, he would choose your laugh in a heartbeat. 

“you’re so silly, yoichi,” you playfully chastised him, but stepped forward to give a kiss to his cheek. he smiled, circling your waist with one arm and pulling so that your bodies were glued.

“what can i say, you make me silly, sweetheart.”

“isn’t that what love is supposed to do?” a third voice suddenly spoke, slightly startling the both of you and breaking you from your little bubble. 

you put down your glass on a waiter’s tray, smiling at the man that arrived. “mr. tanaka! what a pleasure it is to see you here.”

“of course! i wouldn’t miss such a party!” he exclaimed, laughing a little loud for the etiquette of that kind of gala, but no one seemed to mind. 

“and who is this?” he asked, pointing to isagi. 

“this is my husband, isagi yoichi. he came today to support me.”

with such simple words, yoichi’s mind went silent. 

he could faintly discern the man saying something about being a soccer enthusiast and a bastard munchen’s fan — mostly from reading his lips, since his ears were buzzing —, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. isagi’s heart was beating so pathetically fast that if he weren’t an athlete, he was pretty sure he would faint right there. 

husband. you called him your husband. 

did that mean you wanted to marry him? he’s been wanting to propose for a while. you have been dating for five years, after all, and yoichi was sure there was no one else in this world he’d rather spend the rest of his life with. did you only say that because you already lived together? or did you actually want a wedding ceremony with all your friends and family, signing the paper that would bound you for good? until death do us part, he remembered. though yoichi would love you even after dying—

“dear?” you called him, worry in your tone. it’s only then he realized he got lost in his thoughts, and both you and mr. tanaka were staring at him.

“oh, sorry. it’s really nice to meet you, sir.” he shook the man’s hand, engaging in conversation.

while you watched them, you smiled coyly, hoping isagi took the hint.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

if you like my writing and would like to support me, you can 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ! any amount is welcomed and very appreciated! ♥

[kisses4themissus]

Obsessive 2 You || Hwang Inho X Reader

wc: 2k

a/n: ...ok sike I'm posting this now!! Ahh I love writing this reader sm, thank you for all the love on my work!!

pt 1 ¦ masterlist ¦ pt 3

Gi-hun thrashed around on his bed from his nightmare, you patiently watched him with still movements. 

Gi-hun’s eye widened, waking him from his slumber. He glanced around the room as classical music played. 

“Good morning!” You smiled at the man, who flinched at your presence. “Morning, you scared me.” He sighed and held a hand over his heart, trying to calm his heart rate down; Ignoring his words you sat down on his bed but his feet.

“Nightmare?” You questioned, your smiling slowly dropping. He looked unsure at you before nodding. “I have a weird feeling about the next game…” He confessed making you tilt your head at him, before you could speak his friend, jung-bae popped up beside his bed and sleepily smiled at him.

“Triangle today!”

Gi-hun nodded before getting up and followed as everyone walked to the confusing stairwell to the next game.

In-ho joined you all on the stairs he greeted everyone, you notice his gaze stayed on you for a brief moment before turning to gi-hun. 

“Great...you lived another day... ” You scoffed at the man, brushing past him to catch up to gi-hun.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You frowned at the new room, it had been decorated as if it was a school field day. You and the others walked out onto the field, noticing the brightly colored circles on the dirt. 

“Welcome to your second game, this game will require teams of five; we will give you all ten minutes to find a team!” The announcement rang over the intercom. Everyone had turned to gi-hun.

“Dalgona is a team game?” Jung-bae asked, confused.

“The big man must’ve caught on…” You muttered, earning a small hidden smirk from in-ho.

“Aren’t we playing the dalgona game?” Player 100 asked, walking up to your group. “No, it doesn’t look like it..” Gi-hun shook his head. “What’s the game then?” The old man scoffed. 

“I’m not sure.” Gi-hun’s eyes fell to the dirt. You glared at the old man as he got riled up. “What do you mean? I thought you said you’ve played these games before, was that all bullshit?!” 

“I’m sorry.” Gi-hun apologized, making player 100 scoff, “Sorry won’t cut it!” 

You quickly pushed your way towards the old man and glared at him. “He told you the information he had and you were ungrateful about that; No one forced you to gain a debt of ten billion won! Or to continue playing these games!” You looked the player up and down before scoffing at him.

“Greedy old bastard!” You muttered, watching as him and others walked away grumbling something about you.

You watched with hateful eyes as they walked away. Gi-hun turned to you and bowed his head. “Thank you for that.” 

You quickly smiled at the man. “It’s not a problem, remember i’m going to protect you from now on!” You sighed happily before clinging to his arm.

In-ho felt hatred boil inside of him as you hung off gi-hun’s arm, babbling about the possible games. “I’m sorry.” Gi-hun apologized to the other three. “I still trust you, i’d like to play the game with you, if that’s ok.” 

“All right let’s be real men and give it a shot, there all children games right..” Jung-bae sighed. “That’s right sirs, and miss, i’d also like you join you all. I feel like i can do anything with you.” Dae-ho smiled at gi-hun.

“Right, it’d be embarrassing for marines to be carving dalgona anyways..” Jung-bae wrapped his arm around dae-ho like a proud father.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at the pair, before glancing around the room. In-ho stared at you, sighing he acted as if he was looking around the room. “Why don’t you go and try to ask the other teams of their ideas of what the games could be.” In-ho asked, looking directly at you, making you raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s not a bad idea..” Gi-hun agreed, making you sigh before unwrapping yourself from gi-hun’s arm. “I’ll be back then!” You smiled at gi-hun before walking to another team.

Once you were gone in-ho turned to dae-ho. “We need to find another team mate.” 

The three men looked at in-ho confused. In-ho sighed and motioned toward you, “She’s not mentally well, the way she interacts with others shows it…badly, and if we’re to work as a team she could screw us and get us all killed.” He explained, making dae-ho nodded before taking off to find another team mate.

Gi-hun watched confused as in-ho kept his gaze on your back.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You happily walked back to your group but stopped as you saw them all standing together with another girl, you scoffed and went to approach them but was stopped by a deep voice behind you.

“Yo senorita, looking for a team?” Thanos grinned as he looked you up and down.

You stared blankly at the purple haired man before sighing. “You’ll do.” You brushed him and walked to his group. As the timer ran out you stared at gi-hun with hurt filled eyes. 

You all had sat together in a line and began to assign games to one another. “How did you do at ddakji with that guy?” Thanos asked you, leaning over nam-gyu. “I didn’t play anything with him..” You confessed earning looks of confusion from the others before shrugging it off to find another game for you.

“Gong-gi?” Nam-gyu, player 124 suggested. You scoffed and raised your slightly bruised hand. “Injury.” They all signed, you were a challenge for the team…

You groaned as the workers chained your legs together. Player 124 held out his hand for you to hold while waiting. “Don’t touch me, druggie!” You scoffed and slid your hand into your jacket pocket.

A small grin grew on your face as you pulled out gi-hun’s implant, you had looked up and saw their groups eyes were on your team, you waved at gi-hun before kissing the implant, carefully placing it back in your pocket.

Gi-hun shivered at your action, In-ho kept his stare as you finally locked arms with 124 and 380.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Once your team had passed, you were all lead back to the dorms. You sighed as you followed your new group towards their bunks. You sat down on the steps that lead up to the bunks. “I’m so tired now.” Player 124 yawned, stretching out before facing you four.

After a bit you all had noticed workers taking away some of the bunks but majority stayed the same. You sighed, glancing around the room, ignoring the fight between the others. 

“Stop it! What’s your name again?” Thanos questioned, pointing to player 125.

“Min-su.” He shyly announced.

You nodded leaning back on the steps. “How old are you?” Thanos questioned. “I’m 27.” Min-su played with his hands, nervously.

You rolled your eyes as they began to figure out each others ages. “We’ll work better as a team this way. How old are you?” Thanos lightly tapped your back with his foot, making you turn and glare at him. “Do that again and I will make those pink men drag me off your corpse!” You threatened. Thanos nodded, slowly moving his foot back and nodded to the others. “We’ll all assume she’s the oldest.” 

The sound of the door opening made everyone look over. In had walked gi-hun and the others, you perked up with a smile before waiting for them to all settle in.

“Damn it, too many people are alive!” Nam-gyu groaned, throwing his head back.

You smiled as you got up from the steps and bounced over to the others. 

“It’s cute for you all to think i’d die so easily!” You giggled, sitting down in between gi-hun and in-ho. “I’m surprised you made it.” In-ho muttered, scooting over to make room for you.

“Thankfully, I had my good luck charm!” You grinned as you pulled out gi-hun’s implant from your pocket. Dae-ho and jung-bae grimace at the fake tooth in your palm. “It’s kept me alive for so long already, like in the first game, gi-hun saved me from that one tramp who stepped on my hand.” You sighed, placing the bruised hand on top of gi-hun’s leg.

“Help me?” You pouted, a soft scoff made you whip around to stare at the girl who had been on their team. “Why are you here?” You quickly stood up and walked over to her, gi-hun quickly got up and blocked your way to the player. “I’m on their team.” She quietly explained.

“She needed our help, she didn’t have a team and she’s expecting..” Gi-hun explained, standing protectively in front of the other girl. You scoffed at gi-hun who stared at you with a straight expression. “First you all left me without a team, now you’re defending a random girl?!” You laughed, looking at all the groups mixed expressions before walking back to thanos and the others.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You quietly watched as the manager filled up the piggy bank with more money before bring out the voting machine.

With silent footsteps you approached thanos and the others. “What are we voting?” You asked, your expression a bit stern. Min-su flinched as you appeared over his shoulder. “That money barely covers any of our debt…O!” Thanos explained before making an O with his arms.

You nodded as players began to go up and vote. Throughout the vote you had ignored the others eyes on you through the vote.

Once your number was called, you smirked and sautered to the machine before turning to look at gi-hun with a lost look. He sighed and made an X with his hands, dae-ho joining him. You tiled your head and slammed your palm onto the O button, his face dropped as you smirked and ripped your badge off before skipping towards your new group.

“She’s easily influenced by her emotions..” In-ho commented to gi-hun.

You smirked as gi-hun stared defeated as they were now outvoted. You sighed happily before walking to your bunk. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

Se-mi, player 380 stopped in front of your bunk, min-su not far behind her. “Coming to get food?” SHe questioned, you nodded and got up from the bed and joined the line. You watched as the two stood in the second line, quickly moving to the front, leaving you in the back. 

“You voted to stay…why?” 

You turned and rolled your eyes at in-ho. “To keep us all here, together.” You smirked at him before turning back to face the font of the line. 

“Upset frontman has seemingly rejected you?” 

His words ran over you like cold water. You whipped around and stared at the man with furrowed brows. “Frontman?” You questioned. He chuckled in response. “The one in control of these game, the one you’ve been sending weird obsessive letters too.” 

You seethed at his words, you gripped him by his collar of the green jacket. “What are you? Private investigator?A stalker?!” You growled at him. He loosened your grip and held your wrists. “I know a lot about you.” He smirked before letting you go and moved to join the other line, leaving you lost, confused and a bit aroused.

You kept the conversation in your mind as you walked to se-mi and the others. “What did that old bastard want?” Nam-gyu questioned, opening his milk. “For me to be his wife.” You stared at the man before opening your small bread.

“The next game we need to stick together.” Thanos announced, making you all nod. As you ate in silence you stopped chewing feeling a weird sensation in your mouth, you quickly spat out the food and froze at the pink rolled up paper.

You looked to make sure none of the group had glanced in your direction. You quickly unfolded the paper and began to giggle at the note.

“Like a lovesick puppy to that loser…You promised yourself to me; Was it a lie?”

You smiled as you held the note to your chest, you looked back to the camera and smiled before blowing a kiss.

Across the room In-ho had spotted you blowing kisses to the cameras, you had gotten his note after all. It’d only be a short time before you got back on track and fell for him once more.

taglist: @lucinda-reads @eminems4ev3rgirl @lanyia

[mixingandmelting]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with a s/o who’s like the sweetest thing ever and he just sees them get mad, mama bear mode at a super powered hero who could end s/o if they wanted too. Like this super powered hero abused their powers and hurt someone on purpose cuz they’re thought it was funny or like violated their mental privacy with psychic abilities and messed with their head just cuz they are slightly annoyed at them over something mildly inconvenient and basic, (), (a fellow ally hero) and for some reason didn’t see a problem with it and they look confused like they didn’t see the problem as to why they’re being scolded like a bad child and apologise to s/o to appease this s/o cuz they’re friends, and s/o like, “are you kidding me? It’s not me that you need to apologise too and not do that again!”? Maybe the boys have seen slight glimpses into their s/o having some fire in them sent the boys way in the form of some sass when the boys are wrong about something and be stubborn about it?

Dick: 

Does he laugh or cry?  Donna’s covering her mouth with both hands while tapping him every other second to ask if the team should step in. Wally is making him concerned about the potential chance of him dying from hypoxia because he can’t stop laughing. Maybe he should’ve been the one to give the whole lecture why abusing powers for personal reasons is a big no-no. And he was going to do it too, already having the infamous Batman-glare from not being happy, at all, for witnessing the misuse of power for a petty reason. But so far, in his opinion, you’re doing a pretty good job at getting the message across. 

“-Oh, so you think you’re the next Superman or Green Lantern, huh? All big and tough when you resort to using your powers for being called jumbo?” 

See? Plus he’s pretty sure no one, including himself, wants to interfere when you’re like this. You left the Titans a strong impression when you, the warmest and kindest person he has known, showed this side of you before Dick and Gar were about to go at it with each other during a mission that was going wrong. Not only had you asked him if he was trying to prove he’s babygirl  by snapping at his fellow teammate over speakers of his phone, you had gone after everyone else the second your sharp hearing caught the sound of snickering. It was quite a humbling experience to say the least. They managed to actually get themselves back together and  improve their teamwork, starting with everyone comforting each other as soon as you hung up (too bad it didn’t help his case. He still remembers standing in front of the door for over five minutes, hesitant to enter his own home on the day he came back). 

“Are you kidding me? It’s not me you should be apologizing to. Go apologize to the right person and don’t do it again!” 

Oh, no. Well, there’s nothing he can do about it now. He gives the other his condolences, understanding what they must be going through. Doesn’t make the scene any less ridiculous though, the vigilante ten times your size and more powerful, slightly bending forward with a sad puppy look while you’re waving your arms. He plops himself on a broken part of a building and sits back to watch the other party turn around and drag their feet towards the victim while you walk right behind them like a disappointed mother. 

Jason:

He’s turned around, his hand is on the intercom, the other wrapped around his waist to sell the image he’s in the process of tying the loose ends of the finished mission. But it’s getting harder by the second to not burst from the conversation you’re having with the other vigilante. 

“So what you’re telling me is that using your powers to get back at someone because you were annoyed with them is perfectly acceptable and not immature, childish, or stupid. And you’re sure you’re not being immature, childish, AND stupid.”

He covers his snort with a cough. Listen. You’re already considered tiny when with him. Muscles, strength, give or take height. Your heart is the one exception, wider than the sea and accepting to most including himself. To the vigilante? You’re an ant. But here you are, lecturing them to the brink of their ears falling off while they look like a child getting scolded. 

He gets it. Had he been in the hot-seat, he probably would look the same. Out of good faith once, he took Duke  on a mission that involved Black Mask, To give the teen the taste of working as a solo vigilante even though he was far from completing vigilante training. By the time Bruce and the rest of the gang had arrived, his head hung low, standing as if he was the military. You, on the other hand, were forty-one minutes in and counting on your lecture, the poor teen behind you at a loss on whether he should stop you or not. Trust no one in the family to keep silent when people he doesn’t know come up to him at gatherings to ask if the story of him getting served by you is true. He’s still bitter, especially with everyone knowing he can’t do a single thing. Not when it’s tied to gentle and loving you. So when someone who’s close to you and/or him goes through the same misery, it brings him joy from gaining a new comrade, a sympathetic companion. 

“You better get going and apologize right this instance or so help me I will-” 

“That’s my babe.” Jason murmurs, faking a tear from how moved he is under his helmet. Proud that his one love is able to verbally go face-to-face with someone that can squash you if they wanted to. Until it registers in his mind that you’re silent. Turning around, he flinches and awkwardly waves a hand at your glaring form. Well damn. When things were getting good too. 

Tim:

He doesn’t even bat an eyelash to what’s unfolding behind him, going over the mission like normal despite all the glances the JLA gives over his and the rest of Young Justice’s shoulder. 

“Based on how the sediments that were being transported in the crates, we were able to rule out-”

“Sorry to interrupt Robin, but what’s going on behind you four?”

It’s a record-breaking moment. Their responses have never been as in-sync or instantaneous until then.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not an issue.”

“I don’t see a problem.”

“There’s a problem?” 

The JLA members force themselves to ignore it for the time being from the expression all four of them give. Good. The less questions asked, the better for the team. It was the other day Cass had to face you from the stunt she pulled during said mission they’re going over right now. He knows for a fact that Conner and Bart remember all the times you remind all three males the fire that resides in the soft and sweet you when not taken seriously. When it’s him,Tim can never manage to make eye-contact with you for a few days. Bart hides behind the nearest and largest object the second you’re within a ten-mile radius of him. Conner? He has it the worst. Often left in skin and bones, he used to lie on the floor of his bedroom and contemplate the meaning of life every time someone enters and tries to talk to him. He’s gotten better, having progressed to where he seems to freeze on spot if ignoring the miniscule sniffle he makes. 

You do manage to amaze Tim at the same time, proving to him how  “if there’s a will, there’s a way” is a scientifically proven phrase from the way you stay perfectly fine despite going on for five minutes straight without breathing. 

He does sympathize for the vigilante that can probably kill you on the spot had you not been their friend. From the background of his screen, he can see you point at a certain location before the other dejectedly floats towards that direction. Just in time too. He was running out of ideas on how to stop the league from further finding out Young Justice can’t function without you momming them. 

Duke:

He sends a prayer, wishing the victim to rest in peace. He’s seen you before, experienced first-handedly how you are when you’re in mother-hen mode. And he can say, with complete confidence, the person on the receiving end is a goner. 

Duke’s first time was back during the We Are Robin movement. Looking back, he has to admit younger him was an idiot to think he could dismantle a bomb on his own with no experience, nonetheless one set by Penguin’s men. But him in the past was in his emo-teen phase. Meaning, he didn’t acknowledge or consider all the red flags blaring at his face from how dangerous it was going to be, his mission on proving how useless the adults were to keeping a city safe taking priority. Needless to say, he was a mess when he got back to the base, barely managing to escape with his life intact. 

He thought he knew what was coming when everyone pats his shoulder as they walk out and leave him with you in their meeting room. You didn’t scream. You didn’t yell. The worst part?  He couldn’t defend himself. There was no room for any counter arguments because you knew he knew everything you were saying was right (and because he had a massive crush on but that’s besides the point). Charred front and back, he was instantly put in place and shedding out of his phase there and then. Hence, that moment being the last encounter with that side of you from all the efforts he had put in to do anything to avoid having those horrid times he experienced that day repeat itself again.

“What part of you makes you think it’s me you need to apologize to? On top of messing with a person’s mind because you didn’t like their attitude toward you? Are you sure you’re trying to help save the city? Or are you just- ” 

He shakes his head. He watches the remaining fight in their eyes disappearing, face becoming impossibly paler and ashen when you proceed to shred the remaining dignity in them. On one part, it almost, almost, makes him want to step in and save the other from further looking as if they wanted to dig a hole and bury themselves in it. On another, he’s glad he’s not the one facing your wrath. He can do another day of not going through it, thank you very much. 

Damian: 

He’s having the time of his life. Not as much as he usually does when he ruins a criminal’s perfect night, but still, nonetheless enjoyable. Despite the disapproving eyes Jon shoots at him, his grin grows wider at each strike you give to the vigilante. 

It satisfies him deep in his heart, the image of you destroying their soul piece by piece. Them tasting the hell he constantly goes through.

He suspected you had a fire in your heart since he first met you. How else would it explain your warmth and care you showered others in, including himself? Most cases, he has to maneuver himself to keep most of that warmth to himself. When he doesn’t, that’s when he gets burnt. 

Somehow you always manage to catch him, finding out from someone, perhaps from Drake, Brown, or Todd, about all the reckless actions he did during the mission he went on. Remember the Amazo suit mission he had with Super Boy? You were waiting at his and Super Boy’s hide out the day after it was over. The incident at Lazarus Island? He never wanted to die so much as he did when he had to endure your motherly wrath in front of Suren and Maya. Twice, in fact, after he chased the two that snickered at him during the whole session with his katana.

“Mr. Damian Thomas Wayne-“ is not where you stop. Your grip on his ear is surprisingly strong, where he can’t get you to let go no matter how much he struggles from pure resolve to have him stay where he is. His family had once laughed when he told them how terrifying this skill was, only you in possession of it to his knowledge. Now they, too, fear it having experienced it when they tried to thwart his very much valid and warranted concerns once in front of you. 

“You need to apologize to them, not me! And-Hold on! What do you think you’re doing? Don’t use psychosis! Actually say sorry to them!” 

There’s distraught written all over the vigilante’s face. They aren’t given the choice to choose seeing you don’t budge, leading them to childishly stomp their way towards their fellow teammate, grumbling all the way. They could’ve not listened to you and retaliated back if they really wanted to. Unfortunately, for him, it seems that they want to be in your good grace. Something along the lines of being your friend. Too bad, he disapproves. They’ve been too chummy with you the past few days for his liking and need to be taught the bare requirements to be close to you.

[wonderjanga]

I’m Not Brainwashed.

A blizzard hit Fawcett. It was a pretty harsh one too. His apartment doesn’t have heating too. So, Billy went on a journey to find a warm place to sleep.

First, he tried the corner owned by a nice old man. The man said he could bask in the store’s warmth until the store’s closing time.

Old Man: “I’m sorry, it’s just I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here overnight.”

Billy: “There’s no need to apologize, Mister. It’s fine.”

Old Man: “But it isn’t. I wish I could keep you longer but I can’t. Here.” *gives Billy some wrapped sandwiches* “Come back tomorrow. I’ll let you stay again.”

Billy: *small smile* “I’ll try. Thanks, Mister.”

Billy would definitely come back tomorrow, but for now he had to find a place to sleep for the night. This was when Billy made the unfortunate mistake of going to the Rock of Eternity to get out of the cold for a moment.

Billy: *plops down in front of the throne eating one of the sandwiches given to him* “Hmm… Where am I gonna go now?”

Billy didn’t know that those would be his last words as he dozed off at the rock.

A full rest later…

Billy: *stirs awake* “Where am I…? The rock? Geez did I fall asleep?” *feels a buzz from his pocket dimension and pulls out his JL comm and sees like 95 notifications* “-Oh my GODS.”

That’s how Billy found out the hard way never to sleep at the Rock. Turns out, to everyone else, he disappeared. For a WEEK. Damn (he feels like he deserves to curse in this situation) the Rock of Eternity and the weird way it makes time go by. Let’s see… He’d missed an emergency meeting, several messages from his friends, and an either concerned or subtlety threatening text from Batman. Okay. That’s concerning. Uh… You know what? Before he goes and talks to his friends, why doesn’t he go check on Fawcett first?

So, he left the rock, and guess what? The blizzard is still going. He’d be lying if he said this didn’t peeve him. Thankfully, it was daytime, so that means the Old Man would probably let him in the store again.

Old Man: “There you are! You had me worried.”

Billy: “Sorry.” *sounds ashamed*

Old Man: “There’s no need to apologize. It’s just, you said you would be back the next day, and you never came. I thought something had happened to you! I’ve been stress cooking ever since.” *puts a large bag of food into Billy’s hands*

Billy: “I didn’t mean to stress you. You don’t have to give me this.”

Old Man: “Yes I do.” *points to the spot Billy sat the day he had come in* “Now go sit and eat.”

Billy: “Yes, Mister.” *trudges over me eats, feeling bad for making the man worry*

Soon though, Billy had to leave again. He said goodbye to the Old Man and started walking to the blistering cold. He had to find another place to sleep. He looked up the now night sky. He had an idea. It was a stupid one, but it was an idea nonetheless.

The intercom over head announced Captain Marvel’s presence in the watchtower. Wally paused in eating the quadruple double triple quintuple sandwich he made himself. Wasn’t it like 10 pm in Fawcett or something? Cap almost never came to the Watchtower after seven unless it was for monitor duty. The speedster quickly finished his sandwich and decided to go see if something was wrong.

Eventually, he found the Captain near the sleeping quarters. Most members of the JL had one. That included Cap, but as far as Wally knew, Marvel hadn’t so much as stepped foot in that room.

“Cap, buddy! What’re you doing here so late?” Flash asked, causing Marvel to startle.

“Oh uh… I thought I’d get some sleep.” The Captain said, anxiousness rolling off him in waves.

“I thought you didn’t need to sleep?”

“Well, I don’t, but I still like to, y’know?” Marvel said, scratching the back of his neck.

Flash shook his head. “Not really.”

A small, out of place, awkward silence filled the hallway where they stood for a moment before Flash spoke up again, “Where have you been all week-”

“Night!” Cap cut him off, quickly entering the room and letting the door shut behind him, abruptly ending the conversation.

Wally stood there for a few moments. Okay… Something was definitely wrong with his buddy. Had the speedster done something to upset him? He turned to start walking away. He’d talk to his buddy later.

Wally got maybe seven feet away before he heard a loud crash that sounded like lighting and then loud alarms that started ringing throughout the Watchtower. Something about an intruder? Batman walked over to him. Where he came from, only god knows.

“Flash.” Bruce greeted him as he passed, stopping in front of the door Marvel disappeared into just a few moments before.

“Spooky, what’s going on?” Flash sped over to stand next to him.

”There’s an intruder in this room.” Batman replied, as soon as he finished speaking, another large crash of lightning could be heard. The alarm then stopped blaring. This made the Dark Knight pause and start tapping something on the tablet Wally just realized the other man was holding.

“Did something happen?” Wally asked, leaning over to try and see the tablet.

“The intruder is gone. The Watchtower’s also sustained two major electrical strikes that traveled through the tower, temporarily shut down anything in its way. They traveled to this room.” Bruce said.

It was at that moment, Marvel decided to make an appearance. He looked panicked, and when he registered Batman was standing in front of him, the panic seemed to increase. “Mister Batman Sir! Heeeeeeey…”

“Captain, there’s an intru-” Batman didn’t get to finish that sentence before Marvel interrupted him.

“Sorry Mister Batman Sir, but I really gotta be going.” Marvel said hurriedly before speed walking to the zetas. Wally and Bruce watched him go.

Billy should’ve known it was too stupid of an idea to work! He wanted to see if he could detransform and sleep in the bed of the room, but nooooooooo it just had to trigger the alarm. Billy wasn’t proud about interrupting so many (two) people today, but he really, really needed to go because as soon as Flash and Batman step into his room, they’re gonna see two dark lightning marks on the floor. Then they’re gonna try and ask questions. Then that’s gonna lead to Billy having to explain that he can summon lightning to change into a little kid. Then they’re gonna get mad Billy lied to them about being an adult. Then, they’re gonna try stopping him from being a hero, and from there his life as a hero and as Billy Batson will crumble to literal dust.

Around fifteen minutes after Marvel left… Flash was pacing, practically making trails in the ground, “Spooky, he was gone for a week! Not only that but he was acting weird and we got a notification of a security breach. This might sound crazy, but I think it might be that worm thing he mentioned.”

“Worm thing?” Batman asked, sounding incredulous. Wally was wondering why he found that of all the things they’ve seen and heard unbelievable.

“Yeah! He said one of his villains is this little worm that crawls into your ear and takes control your brain.” Flash said, one of his fingers doing a weird wiggling motion as if to resemble a worm.

“So you think he’s being mind controlled?” Supes asked, sounding super concerned. Oh right, he’s here too. He’d just gotten off monitor duty with J’onn. At the moment, the Martian was in the kitchen getting some snacks.

“Yes!” Flash exclaimed. “It could explain why he up and disappeared.”

“Flash, for all we know, he could’ve been gone due to a family emergency or something along those lines.” Batman spoke.

“Well… just to be safe…?” Supes started, sounding cautious as he trailed off and nodded to a nearby cabinet the three, or at least Clark and Bruce, knew housed bug spray.

That was how they ended up cornering Marvel in Fawcett, Superman restraining the man while Batman sprayed bug spray in his face and ears. Meanwhile Flash was standing to the side nervously, holding a jar in case a certain green worm actually crawls out of Marvel’s ear.

So yeah, today was not Billy’s day, let alone week. Also, it turned out that there was a magical creature that was causing the blizzards. He proceeded to promptly beat it up for all the trouble and embarrassment it inadvertently caused him.

Don’t ask why I stopped formatting the dialogue the way I normally do for a couple seconds. I don’t even know. That’s actually why I didn’t post around eleven like I normally do. It was taking a while.

[honeydippedfiction]

The Quietest Goodbye {LH43}

Navigation

Synopsis: After months of loving Luke Hughes in silence, she finally walks away—unseen, unheard, and completely emptied by his absence. It’s only when he finds the letter she wrote in the beginning—full of hope and love he never returned—that he realizes he was everything to someone he treated like nothing.

Warnings: Emotional Neglect in a Relationship, Breakup / Heartache, Unresolved Emotional Conflict, Loneliness / Isolation, Regret & Abandonment.

Themes: Unreciprocated Love, Emotional Distance vs. Physical Presence, Regret & Realization After Loss , Memory & Nostalgia , Silence as a Form of Heartbreak, & Identity in a Relationship.

WC: 1.8k

A/N: Here's some angsty Luke.

Join my Taglists here or message me

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Playlist Greatest - Billie Eilish Two Ghosts - Harry Styles I Fall Apart - Post Malone

She used to mark the dates of his games on her calendar, circling them in red like holidays. It didn’t matter if the arena was in New Jersey, or halfway across the country. If she could find a way to be there, she would. Red-eye flights, long drives through snowstorms, airport terminals where her name was barely whispered by the intercom—she never missed a chance to see him.

Luke never asked her to come. But he never told her not to, either.

In those early months, that silence felt like a kind of permission. Maybe even affection. She’d show up with a cup of his favorite coffee and a soft smile, and he’d greet her with a tired kiss and say, “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I know,” she’d always reply. “But I wanted to.”

That used to be enough for her—wanting him. Wanting to give.

But over time, something shifted. Not all at once, like a thunderstorm crashing through a clear sky. It was subtler than that. Like a slow leak under the floorboards, something rotting quietly, just out of view.

At first, it was the little things. Missed calls that used to come with an apology and now came with silence. Texts read but not answered. Excuses that felt thinner every time he gave them.

“I’ve just been swamped,” he’d say. “Back-to-back games. My head’s not right.”

She tried to believe him. She really did.

“You don’t talk to me anymore, Luke,” she finally said one night. Her voice was quiet, but steady. “I feel like I’m dating a ghost.”

He rubbed his eyes and let out a tired breath. “You’re making this into a thing.”

“It is a thing.”

He didn’t argue. Just stood up and left the room, like the weight of her words wasn’t worth carrying.

That was the moment she realized something cruel: you can’t beg someone to care. You can’t pour yourself into a person and expect them to hold you gently.

She waited for him to come back. Not just into the room, but into the relationship. Into them. But he stayed gone in all the ways that counted.

And she stayed, too—for longer than she should’ve. She stayed because she remembered the boy who kissed her forehead when she fell asleep during his post-game interviews. The one who whispered, “I love you,” like it meant something he couldn’t put into words.

But that boy had vanished somewhere beneath the weight of travel, fame, and distraction. What was left was someone she didn’t recognize. Someone who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see the slow unraveling between them.

One night, after another game she watched from her apartment instead of the stands, she sat on the edge of their shared bed and stared at her packed bag.

He walked in after midnight. She could smell the rink on his skin—sweat, ice, cold plastic. He dropped his gear by the door with a sigh.

“You’re not asleep?” he asked, voice low.

“No,” she said, not looking at him.

He nodded, started toward the shower. She almost let him go.

But then—

“I’m leaving, Luke.”

He stopped, hand still on the doorframe. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t do this anymore.” Her voice trembled, but she didn’t back down. “I’ve been showing up for someone who doesn’t even notice I’m here.”

He turned to face her. The expression on his face wasn’t shock. It wasn’t anger. It was… confusion. As if he truly didn’t understand why she was breaking.

“You know I care about you,” he said.

“But you don’t show it,” she whispered. “You haven’t in months.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been under pressure. I can’t be everything all the time.”

“I never asked you to be everything,” she said. “I just asked you to be present.”

The silence that followed was deafening. No more excuses. No more last-minute promises. Just the quiet acceptance of something already too far gone.

She picked up her bag and walked past him. He didn’t stop her. Maybe he didn’t know how. Or maybe he didn’t want to.

And that, she realized, hurt more than anything.

Luke didn’t think much about the bag when he first saw it missing from the closet. She had packed light before, for weekend trips to visit her sister or those last-minute flights she took for work. Maybe she’d just gone out of town.

That’s what he told himself.

But the next day, her coffee mug was gone too. The one with the cracked handle she always refused to throw out. And the framed photo of the two of them on the bookshelf—faded from sun and time—had vanished like it had never been there at all.

That’s when the noise in his head finally stopped long enough for him to hear what he’d ignored.

She was gone.

Not temporarily. Not for space. Gone, like she meant it.

He sat on the edge of their—his—bed, looking at the empty space where her phone charger used to be. The charger. It shouldn’t have gutted him. But it did. Because it meant she took her time. Thought it through. Didn’t just walk out on impulse.

He could still remember her last words, though at the time, they barely registered.

“I can’t do this anymore.”“You don’t even notice I’m here.”

Back then, he had nodded like she was being dramatic. Like she didn’t understand how exhausting the schedule was, how hard it was to balance the season, the press, the pressure.

But now… Now he realized she wasn’t asking for his time. She was asking for presence.

And he hadn’t given her that. Not for a long time.

ﾟ･:.｡:ﾟ･♡⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭ﾟ･:.｡:ﾟ･♡⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

The season rolled on.

Post-game interviews, team meetings, long bus rides with earbuds in and a seat to himself. He used to text her from the road. She used to send him voice memos that made him laugh under his breath in the middle of practice.

Now his phone was quieter than it had ever been.

The guys didn’t ask where she went. A few of them noticed, sure, but no one brought it up. No one wanted to poke the bruise.

Except Dawson Mercer.

One night, after a brutal loss and a longer-than-usual silence in the locker room, Dawson tossed a towel over his shoulder and leaned against the bench next to him.

“You good?” he asked.

Luke nodded instinctively. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“You haven’t been right,” Dawson said. “Not for a while.”

Luke didn’t answer.

“She meant a lot to you, didn’t she?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah. I think I just… didn’t realize how much.”

Dawson clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Most guys don’t. Not until it’s too late.”

ﾟ･:.｡:ﾟ･♡⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭ﾟ･:.｡:ﾟ･♡⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

Late one night, after a road win in Pittsburgh, Luke sat in his hotel room with the curtains drawn and the lights dimmed. He opened his Notes app and started typing something—anything. A message to her he’d never send.

I thought you'd always be there. I thought I had more time to figure it out. You were never asking for the world. Just for me. I’m sorry I didn’t show up.

He stared at the screen for a long time, then closed it without saving.

Some things weren’t meant to be fixed with words.

She had given him everything. And all he gave back was absence wrapped in routine.

Now, all he had left was empty space, a pair of laces untied by the door, and a silence that felt heavier than any crowd he’d ever played in front of.

ﾟ･:.｡:ﾟ･♡⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭ﾟ･:.｡:ﾟ･♡⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

He wasn’t looking for anything.

It had been raining all afternoon, that cold kind of spring rain that made everything feel heavier, and he found himself pacing his apartment—their apartment—like a stranger in someone else’s life. Drawers he hadn’t touched in months, closets that still smelled faintly like her shampoo, the back of the bookshelf where her things used to be.

It was a drawer in the nightstand she always used. The bottom one. The one that used to stick a little when you pulled it too fast. He opened it without thinking, without really expecting anything except maybe an old hair tie or a receipt she forgot to toss.

But there it was.

A letter. Folded in half, edges soft and a little curled, like it had been handled more than once. His name was written on the front in her handwriting — loopy, careful, and familiar in a way that made his chest tighten instantly.

He stared at it for a long moment. His thumb brushed over the ink.

He thought about not opening it. Letting it sit in that drawer forever. But curiosity is a cruel thing when mixed with grief.

He sat on the bed and unfolded it.

ﾟ･:.｡:ﾟ･♡⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭ﾟ･:.｡:ﾟ･♡⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

Luke, (written in the soft blue ink she always used)

I know it’s kind of cheesy to write something like this, but I guess I just wanted you to know what you mean to me — in case I don’t say it enough.

I didn’t expect to fall for someone like you. I didn’t expect to feel so safe with a person whose life is always on the move. But when I’m with you, everything feels still. Even if it’s just a few hours before your next flight, or a quick dinner between practices — I’d take that over anything else.

You have this way of making everything feel easy. Even the chaos. Even the distance.

I don’t need flowers or grand gestures. Just you. Just your voice on a bad day. Your hand reaching for mine in a crowded room. Your laugh when I make a joke that’s only half-funny.

I don’t want to be just another girl in the stands, or another message on your phone you forget to answer. I want to be your person. The one you come home to, even if your home is always changing.

And if we ever get lost in all the noise… I hope we find our way back.

I love you. I really, really do.

— me <3

ﾟ･:.｡:ﾟ･♡⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭ﾟ･:.｡:ﾟ･♡⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

Luke sat still for what felt like an hour. Maybe more.

The words blurred at the edges from where his fingers pressed too tightly to the paper. He didn’t cry — not really. It was something else, something heavier. That kind of grief you feel when you realize someone once believed in you so purely, so completely, and you let them down anyway.

She had written it during the best part. When she was still waiting in airports and braving snowstorms just to watch him skate. When she still thought love would be enough to hold them together.

He folded the letter back up slowly, like it might shatter if he moved too fast.

Set it on the nightstand.

Sat there in the dim light with nothing but the hum of rain against the windows, and the echo of her words.

“I hope we find our way back.”

The cruelest part?

He wasn’t sure there was a way anymore.

And if there was… he didn’t know if he deserved it.

LH43 Taglist: -

NHL Taglist: @ashloveshockey

[etargus]

starting things off beautifully with this commission of archer that the super skilled iliasimp did for me! i really wanted this piece to encapsulate archer's vibes, and ilia did amazing with what i gave them. look at my baby comet! 💖

[asheyxash]

home is where seventeen is

[you as seventeen's 14th female member series]

relationship: platonic genre(s): fluff, humour warning(s): none word count: ~1.4k

SPECIAL EPILOGUE! part 1 | part 2 | part 3

said it was the last part but i had to gift yall something as an apology for the super late upload! this is just pure fun and happiness that shows the relationship with her and seventeen, and her gaining back her happiness because home is where seventeen is<3

in woozi's universe factory

"yah! stop eating the snacks—we're recording!" you froze mid-crunch, chip halfway to your mouth, caught like a deer in woozi's judgmental studio glare. "they were staring at me," you said, solemnly, holding the bag up like it had pleaded for rescue. "i had no choice." "you had every choice," woozi groaned through the intercom. "you chose violence. again." hoshi collapsed next to you, laughter spilling out like glitter. "she's too powerful. even the chips respect her." dokyeom clutched his chest. "you betrayed our sacred recording booth for snacks?" "they were sour cream and onion," you said, unfazed. "oh. valid."

jeonghan tried to steal one, but seungkwan had already taken three and was screeching, "MINE! I CLAIMED THEM FIRST," as they began physically wrestling under the studio desk. vernon, in the corner, headphones on, watched a frog documentary for the third time this week. mingyu entered with a blackened waffle on a fork. "the toaster attacked me again." jun stared. "how is it both frozen and burnt?"

"i wanted it... extra toasty," mingyu mumbled. "you exorcised it." "why does this always happen when she's here?" seungcheol whispered, pinching his nose. minghao entered, took in the chaos, and turned around.

"nope."

in the practice room

dance practice with them was like choreographing a hurricane. hoshi was shouting counts, seungkwan was mid-rant about a ripped sock, and you had just slipped on someone's water bottle. "who leaves a bottle open on the floor?!" "freedom," chan said, picking it up.

hoshi demonstrated a turn-spin-jump combo, shouted "got it?" and fell dramatically onto the ground. "hoshi hyung, the floor again?" "it’s jealous of my energy," he wheezed.

"you tripped on air."

"it was intense air."

woozi paused the music. "one more mistake and i’m chaining you all to the beat." "that sounds like a new genre," you offered. "prison pop." "it already exists. it's called being in a group with you," minghao muttered. all of you fake gasps, and minghao just returns the favour with judgemental, and when i mean judgemental, i mean judgemental stares.

dorm life

living with thirteen boys meant every day was unpredictable.

there was a toothpaste war. jeonghan blamed mingyu. mingyu blamed gravity. you found toothpaste in your sock. "i'm innocent!" mingyu cried. "you squeezed it from the middle," jeonghan hissed. "like a criminal."

seungkwan screamed because dokyeom microwaved foil. again. "IT SPARKED," dokyeom shouted. "because it's metal! this is why we can’t have appliances!" joshua, sipping tea, whispered, "i tried. i truly did."

your room had become a plushie jungle. courtesy of seungcheol, who gave you one every time he missed you. teddy bears, countless teddy ears, rabbits, ducks, cats, dogs, even plushies of each seventeen member that looked scarily too real filled up your bed, a life sized cut-board standee of you next to the door, as if guarding it, more teddy bears and did i mention teddy bears? now a terrifyingly muscular dinosaur named "dinosaur" sat beside your bed. (in vernon's defense you said you wanted a unique name) chan gifted you a screaming frog toy. "its name is boonboo," he said.

"why boonboo?"

"because it screams like seungkwan."

"i do not scream—" seungkwan screamed.

thirteen chaotic members, but they were your chaos

seungcheol pulled you aside one night. ramen between you, hearts wide open. "you make us better," he said. "you made me softer. stronger. more annoying." "thanks, dad." he sniffled. "my proudest daughter."

jeonghan started a prank war. he hid alarm clocks in your walls that gave you a headache for an hour. you replaced his shampoo with green hair dye. he filled your shoes with whipped cream. it escalated until the manager banned all “revenge plotting within 10 feet of shared oxygen.”

joshua tried to teach you guitar. you broke a string. then another. "...maybe percussion?" he offered gently. you played offkey on the piano. you hit too hard on a cajon you whined in pain. he just smiled and said, “maybe you’re better at… triangle.”

jun dragged you into a viral dance challenge. you tripped. he posted it. 3 million views. "we're legends," he said. "we're memes." "we're icons." he argued. "we're memes." you corrected. "same thing."

hoshi made you tiger roar before every show. "this is so cringe." "you're not in the moment yet, just keep doing it every day and you can be my partner in crime." he giggles, lifting your tired hand back to the "horanghae" sign. you stuck out your tongue.

wonwoo left you books with sticky notes: "this part has dragons. you're the dragon." "what?" "nothing." you raise and eyebrow and he covers his face with a book, only for you to cross your arms akimbo, huffing, "so you read upside down now?"

woozi let you into his studio. you hummed off-key. he rolled his eyes but saved the file. "you're chaos," he muttered. "i'm your chaos." "unfortunately." "lowkey my whistle was good." you challenge, and he replays the track. he rolled his eyes. “fine. it works. you chaotic genius.”

minghao took you to museums on your days off. you stared at a blank canvas. “what does it mean?” you asked. “it reminds me of your brain sometimes.” you hit him with a brochure.

mingyu tried baking cookies. they became bricks. cold, hard, yet burnt? "how does one do that..." you mumble under your breath, patting his back as he cried. you painted eyes on them and from that day, always gave stupid excuses to avoid eating his cookies.

dokyeom sang lullabies. one night, he used "baby shark." it worked. now it's a tradition. sometimes you join, although i guess voice cracks were way more often late at night. "i think you should leave the sharks alone." he chuckled, as you chuck a pillow at him, and a pillow fight occurs.

seungkwan forced you to try teas. "this one's for emotional balance." "it tastes like dirt and betrayal." "you’re welcome." the next one was worse. “this one helps sadness.” you gave a skeptical eye but he flashed you a cheeky smile and practically shoved it in your hands to drink anyway. “it tastes like feet.” you gag. “that means it’s working, wait how do you know how feet tastes like?”

vernon handed you headphones. "block the idiots." "you’re an idiot too." "i know." he shoots a thumbs up and you sigh. "is that your default pose?" you frown. "no, you just never asked."

chan let you choreograph an intro. it became everyone's favourite part. "told you you’re a star," he said. you smiled, brightly, and so did everyone else. you were a star. their star.

on stage, together

the lights dimmed. the fans screamed. and you stood in the middle of it all—between the boys who broke your heart and then fought like hell to mend it. you sang. you danced. you smiled like the past didn’t weigh you down anymore.

hoshi spun you mid-dance like a princess. jun winked at the camera. mingyu almost tripped but you caught him this time. woozi gave you a discreet thumbs-up mid-chorus. minghao nodded at you from the shadows. seungkwan sent about 14 diff variations of hearts. dino blew kisses. seungcheol smiled with the softness of someone who had almost lost everything.

you ended the song in perfect sync, the final note ringing through the air like a ribbon tied around everything you'd survived. as the music faded, you turned—and they were all there.

smiling. proud. whole.

the 14 of you hit that final pose like it was written in your blood. the fans screamed. you smiled. behind you, they reached out, linked hands, hearts wide open.

you grinned so wide it hurt.

“one more time?” you asked, catching your breath.

“always,” seungcheol said.

home is where seventeen is

home wasn’t a building. it wasn’t the practice room. it wasn’t the stage. it wasn’t even the dorm with fourteen toothbrushes and burnt waffles and people falling over air.

it was them.

their chaos. their laughter. their voices yelling over each other. the group chat with 2,605 unread messages titled “14 idiots 1 soul.” it was the arms you ran back to. and the hearts that never stopped waiting for you.

it was laughter. forgiveness. chaos. second chances.

13 boys who were your forever, even when they got it wrong the first time.

home was a second chance.

and you?

you were finally, ridiculously, overwhelmingly happy.

you weren’t just back.

you were home.

[pressureplus]

Could I ask for the prompt of you being a former friend/lover of Sebastian's from the surface when he was still human, becoming an EXR-P and meeting him again for the first time? I think it could be either super wholesome or super angsty lmao,,

-⭕️

Oh, you know I just love angst, thank you for the prompt! May have run a bit wild with it, apologies for that!

Hiraeth

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: Angst, Romance

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟ ◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

How many times had you run through these halls, desperately searching for a safe place to rest? The echo of water droplets hitting the ground from your soaked suit. You'd heard whispers, muffled between EXR-P’s like yourself. A few little tales of a shopkeeper all the way down here. A man by the name of Sebastian, some kind of experiment gone feral. A part of you was admittedly a little frightened by the idea of him, but from the moment you heard his voice over the intercom, you knew you had to find him. You knew only one man with a voice like that, that little chuckle that you'd heard a thousand times over. It played in your head on repeat and it hasn't stopped in years. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but you could dream, couldn't you?

The man you’d been in love with had been sentenced to death so many years ago now, the case details are blurry. You'd tried to be in court that day and you had. You vouched for his innocence, for his protection. He’d been with you that night. Honestly? It didn't seem to matter. They didn't care what you had to say under oath or not. Who cared if the love of your life was sentenced to death? Surely not the lawyers, the judges, the jury, or the onlookers... All of them would be able to carry on with their lives as though nothing had happened, but you? You wouldn't. You couldn't. You’d screamed that day when they took him in cuffs, when your pleas for his safety had been ignored. He didn't seem to resist, nor did he fight back. He’d only smiled at you. A little one that was a bit more solemn than the others you'd received. Much duller than the one you'd fallen in love with. Who were they to dull his light? Who were they to take him from you?

When he was killed, put down like some kind of animal, it was like the sun had fallen from the sky. For a while you'd wandered aimlessly, grieving the loss of your love, and no one had seemed to care. Those that reached out did so half-heartedly. The amount of reprimanding you got for grieving a man they claimed to be a murderer broke you down. It changed you. Something about watching the world around you turn their backs to your grief, rejecting the idea of his innocence even in death. It drove you nearly crazy. Now, after all this time, you're here. Here, in the Hadal Blacksight under Urbanshades care, you had a chance of seeing him. Maybe it wasn't a particularly good chance, but a chance nonetheless.

As you finally looked around the inside of his shop, out of breath from having crawled through an already open vent, you were greeted with items. A document on the counter, batteries, a radio and keycard. All sorts of spare items on shelves and an empty black doorway. There was no shopkeeper here, and it only left you confused. That was until you heard shifting in the backroom. Was he storing things? Replenishing his supply? Did it matter? Now was the time and god the way your heart raced in your chest left you almost shaking. Was it going to be him? You shouldn't get your hopes up, right? After a few more moments of silence, you gathered your courage to speak, stepping a little closer to the dark doorway.

“Hello?” You attempted to call out for him, or more so anyone in that back room. You were greeted with a softer, smoother voice.

“What are you doing here?” You freeze immediately, little tears in your eyes. The voice you were so attached to for so long, the one you'd missed, the one you'd fallen in love with. Of course his voice was a bit deeper than you'd last heard it, but oh so familiar.

“Sebastian? Is that really you? You're alive- tell me you're alive and that I've not finally lost my mind.”

“I'm alive. Barely.”

“Sebastian, I've missed you so much. I thought I'd lost you forever- I am so, so sorry that I couldn't do more. I-” You attempt to step closer towards the door, only to be met with aggression. A loud almost barking noise as his voice picks up in volume.

“Don't- Don't come any closer.”

“Its been nearly a decade since I've last seen you, come on-”

“You don't want to see me.”

“What? Sebastian, of course I want to see you.”

“No, no you don't. You don't want to see me now, its better if you think of me as dead. I'm warning you.”

“It can't be that bad-”

“Back up.” He huffs as you take another step forward, almost at the doorframe now.

“No, no I'm not backing up. I have waited to see you for years and no amount of being nervous is going to stop me.”

“Back. Up.” His voice drops even lower, more like a hiss than words as you finally get to the doorway.

“Sebastian, I'm not backing up. I-”

“I said BACK UP!” The voice you're greeted with hold power unlike anything you've heard from a human before. A snarl and a growl, echoing oddly in his throat as his face comes out of the darkness. A monster and not a man. Something entirely unrecognizable as your lover apart from his voice, something that looks closer to the anglers here than anything else. His glistening teeth bared as though he was going to snap and rip into you at any moment. His eyes filled with anger unrivaled.

“Wh…What are you?” Those words seemed to sink in deep, hitting him in all his most sensitive places. An attack directly on his heart. You watch the rage turn into hurt, melting into regret before he dipped back inside the dark room. A bit of shuffling heard.

“Are you happy now? You've seen enough. I didn't want it to come to this, okay? Please just…go away. I can't bear to look at you like this. Your expression is too much for me.”

“Wait- wait I'm sorry I just- you shocked me is all. Sebastian please-” You try to soften your approach as the shock and fear fade away.

“Don't say my name so sweetly, like you didn't just get scared of my face. And what about the rest of me? What will you think of what they made me? If my face scares you that much you won't want to see the rest.”

“Sebastian, please. I have loved you for years, since way before all of this. Even after you died I never stopped loving you. I was a little scared, yes, but its you, isn't it? It's still my Sebastian in that body. No matter what you look like now.” He hesitated for a moment. A long beat of silence, heartbeat rapid in your panic to not let him leave you again. All at once a massive clawed hand juts out of the darkness and pulls you in. You're tugged up into a set of arms, a third coming up under your thighs to function like a chain. The glow of his eyes on the darkness is unsettling for only a moment as he dips down to muzzle into your neck.

“Don't…Don't say things like that unless you mean them.”

“Sebastian.” You say it softly, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I still love you…its okay. All of you, even if its new and different. Its just gonna take a little getting used to. You can be patient for me, can't you?” He nods against your neck, holding you desperately. Enough for those claws to sink into your skin and draw blood, but neither of you seem to care. Here, even if its only for a moment, Sebastian has a piece of home again.

[awkward-walking-potato]

A Clumsy Heart

Logan doesn’t take kindly to someone causing his girl Dumb

Y/N was a whirlwind of bubbly energy, with a perpetual smile and a tendency to trip over their own feet. They were the kind of person who made a mess of Logan's perfectly organized life. Y/N once turned the Danger Room into a karaoke stage, much to the dismay of Cyclops, who was less than thrilled to hear ABBA blaring through the intercom. Logan, on the other hand, found it all amusing. After all, he had a soft spot for Y/N, despite how different they were from anyone he’d ever been with.

It wasn’t that Y/N was unintelligent; they were just... well, distracted. Their mind would wander into thoughts of pretty clouds and the taste of their favorite ice cream in the middle of a battle strategy meeting. They were clumsy too. Just yesterday, they had tripped over nothing in the mansion's hallway, sending a tray of freshly made cookies flying through the air and directly into Logan’s lap. He grumbled, wiping off crumbs from his shirt, but the slight twitch of a smile tugged at his lips. Y/N had looked up at him with wide eyes, expecting to get chewed out, but Logan just sighed and pulled them up from the floor.

“C’mon, bub,” he had muttered. “Next time, try not to send the cookies on a mission to kill me.”

Y/N had giggled, brushing crumbs off their shirt and mumbling apologies, but Logan’s heart had already softened.

One afternoon, Logan and Y/N were out in town, grabbing a coffee at a small café. Y/N, as usual, was being their cheery, clumsy self, chatting animatedly with the barista about the latest book they were reading. The barista, a young guy who clearly had no patience, rolled his eyes.

“Must be hard for someone like you to get through a whole book, huh?” the barista sneered. “You don’t seem like the sharpest tool in the shed.”

Y/N froze, the light in their eyes dimming slightly as they processed the insult. Logan’s keen senses caught the shift immediately. His grip on the coffee cup tightened, his knuckles going white as the bone claws threatened to unsheathe. He could feel the anger boiling under his skin, but he kept his voice low, dangerous.

“Watch your mouth,” Logan growled, his gaze narrowing on the barista. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Logan’s presence filled the small space. “Y/N here’s got more heart than you’ll ever have.”

The barista gulped, his bravado crumbling under Logan’s intense stare. He stammered an apology, but Logan wasn’t interested in hearing it. His focus was on Y/N, who had gone unusually quiet.

“Hey,” Logan said softly, pulling Y/N aside after grabbing their drinks. “Don’t listen to jerks like that. You’re not dumb.”

Y/N looked up at him, eyes still a bit watery. “But sometimes I mess things up…”

Logan shook his head, placing a rough, yet gentle, hand on their shoulder. “We all mess up, bub. Doesn’t mean you’re dumb. You got a good heart, and that’s more important than anything else.”

Y/N managed a small smile, their spirits lifting slightly. Logan wasn’t the type to give out compliments, so when he did, it meant the world.

“Thanks, Logan,” Y/N murmured, leaning into his side as they walked out of the café together. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Logan grunted, a faint smile playing on his lips as they walked back to the mansion. “Yeah, well, I’m the lucky one. Just… try not to trip on the way back, alright?”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and joyful. And as they headed home, Logan knew that no matter how clumsy or ditsy Y/N could be, they were the best thing that had ever happened to him. And woe to anyone who dared to think otherwise.

[wileys-russo]

off limits (7) II a.putellas x león!reader

part one part two part three part four part five part six

off limits (7) II a.putellas x león!reader

you blinked tiredly as suddenly you were whisked away from the blissful world of your dreams and slammed back into reality, the shrill blare of your alarm causing you to let out a tired groan.

hand smacking around trying to tap snooze you swore loudly and jolted even further awake as you caught your knuckles on the corner of the nightstand.

sitting up with an annoyed huff you grabbed your phone and pressed stop on the glaringly obnoxious alarm, dropping it in your lap and rubbing your face tiredly.

noticing the time and knowing when your plane was you knew if you wanted to shower and not be rushed you should get up now.

however with barcelona being unusually grey and overcast you found sleep was calling you for just a little longer, so you set an alarm for in a half hour and dropped your head back to your pillow with a thud.

you awoke with a startle what only felt like minutes later to a noise you assumed was your alarm, reaching out and smacking your phone screen tiredly, pulling yourself up to rest on your elbows when the insistent ringing continued.

with a roll of your eyes realising it was a phone call you settled back into bed and brought the device to your ear.

"hola?" you yawned, wincing as alba excitedly yelled back that they were downstairs. "now?" you realised after a beat of silence, ripping the covers off and checking the time, realizing your alarm hadn't gone off and you'd oh so stupidly set it for PM instead of AM.

"noo tomorrow chica!" the girls voice dripped with sarcasm, though hearing you unable to stifle a yawn another beat of silence passed.

"you are ready, si?" alba's tone suddenly became much more serious and you could only imagine the way her eyebrows would furror in annoyance just like alexia's would

"...ten minutes?" you questioned sheepishly, wincing as a string of angry spanish hit you like a wall. "mierda! we will cancel this uber and come up and order another one once you're ready then. apresúrate idiot!" the younger putellas huffed as you agreed and apologized.

"wait, alba who is we?" you clocked her choice of words, not given an answer as the line beeped signalling she'd hung up on you. with a shrug assuming you must have misheard you leapt out of bed and rushed around pulling on clothes, grateful you'd at least finished packing last night.

not even two minutes later and your intercom buzzed as you hopped over to it, punching in the code and letting alba up as you fought to tug on a pair of shorts without falling to the floor, startled by harsh knocks at your door.

"i'm coming i'm coming joder!" you groaned as the knocks continued impatiently, clumsily buttoning up the jean shorts and stumbling to the door, throwing it open and ducking your head to pull your hair up into a messy bun, failing to notice two pairs of shoes standing in wait for you.

"i told you what time we would be here!" alba huffed, shoving past you as you lost your footing and almost went tumbling down, an all too familiar set of hands steadying you.

you glanced up with wide eyes to meet those you knew all too well, her chocolate brown orbs clouded with something you couldn't quite put your finger on as she quietly murmured good morning and let go of you, hovering by the door.

"the uber is waiting downstairs! five minutes or alexia will carry you down there herself." alba warned as she hauled your suitcase with her, missing the way both you and your ex girlfriend cringed a little at her words.

"i thought you were ordering a new-" you started but the slam of your front door abruptly cut you off, leaving you and alexia alone as you avoided her eyes, scrambling off into your room and leaving her behind to her own devices.

alexia's eyebrows curled into a frown as she shoved her hands into her pockets, gaze roaming the apartment which had once seemed so familiar and warm, now feeling foreign and cold as she mentally took note of all the changes.

the guilt settled once more in her stomach as the reality of the last time she'd been here sank in, her heart aching a little to see almost every remainer of your time together was merely wiped away.

the polaroids of the two of you which littered your fridge, gone. though she knew you only put them out when she was coming over, your relationship a secret to anyone outside your little bubble of love.

the snow globes she'd brought you back from the world cup which normally sat proudly on the mantle, gone. you'd also rearranged your furniture which she had a sneaky suspicion would have been ingrids idea, the girl forever going on about the energy of rooms.

but what alexia wasn't to know was all the knick knacks, souvienners, photos, anything that reminded you of her was stored safely in a box under your bed. you'd gotten that box out far more often than you cared to admit, pawning through its contents with the upmost care.

you some days wanted nothing more than to destroy its contents, one final fuck you to the relationship alexia had seemingly thrown away without a care.

head ablaze with thoughts you often flicked a lighter on and off in your hand, conveniently one alexia had gotten from you during an away game in madrid where you'd tweaked your ankle and weren't able to play or travel with the team.

but you could never ever actually bring yourself to do any sort of harm to the box and its contents, so you'd shed a few tears and wordlessly slip it back under your bed, like clockwork.

out of sight but never out of mind.

you expected her to just wait silently by the front door where alba had left her, so your body locked up in surprise as strong tanned arms wound round your torso, her footsteps so quiet you'd not even heard her approach.

"i did wonder where that hoodie went." she murmured quietly as you glanced down to realise the hoodie you'd thrown on in your haste was indeed hers, an old favourite you'd been meaning to give back but again you just couldn't seem to muster up the courage despite how much some days your heart burned with hatred for her.

"alexia." you warned with a sigh, your hands on top of hers trying to gently pull them away as she only clung on tighter. "we can't." you empasized, squeezing your eyes shut.

"but-"

"no. ale the other night was a mistake, por favor i was not thinking right and i should not have agreed to go home with you." you mumbled, her arms disappearing now as you span around to look up at her with soft apologetic eyes.

"i asked you if you wanted to many times, and you still said yes. then we slept together and i thought you stayed the night but i woke up to an empty bed and i had to wonder if it was all some sort of dream, maybe even a nightmare." the older girls eyes flashed with hurt as you winced slightly.

"i know. but i was upset, you were upset, i'd just told you i was going to retire and i was in a really weird state of mind and-" "did it not mean anything to you, nothing at all?"

your stomach dropped at the way her voice was so stripped back, cut raw and barely above a whisper as she picked at a loose thread on her pants, pretending like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"alexia please, can we not do this now? we're about to be stuck together for days and i don't want our drama to cause any problems with the group." you pleaded, swallowing the words on the tip of your tongue.

"our drama?" her voice echoed after you as you wandered into your closet, stripping yourself of her hoodie and tugging on a sweatshirt of your own. "you know what i mean." you sighed, pushing her hoodie into her hands and grabbing your carry on, making a beeline for the door.

"can we just pretend it never happened? please. i'm sorry but it was a mistake alexia." "fine, like it never happened."

the ride down in the elevator together was painfully quiet, alexia looking like she wanted to say something but using all her will not to.

thankfully in the car you had alba who didn't shut up the entire ride to the airport, alexia sat up front lost in her thoughts as the younger putellas talked your ear off.

"i didn't know jenni was coming." you mumbled to alba with a frown spotting the taller girl laughing with the group of your national team mates.

but if alba heard you she made no move to acknowledge it, slinging an arm over your shoulders and marching you toward the girls as alexia trailed behind.

you felt a strange feeling settle over you as jenni embraced alexia and kissed both her cheeks, but you knew jenni had always been like that and that she had a girlfriend of her own anyway, and you had no right over whatever alexia decided to do now.

you'd never actually seen jenni as a threat before now and you weren't sure what changed, the two of you had always gotten along well.

so trying to swallow the strange feelings and push them as far down as you could, you moved forward. it was made easier by the fact the tall spaniard was so easy to get along with, spinning you around in a tight hug not having seen you since she'd left barcelona and you stepped down from the national team.

unknown to you it was now alexia who was fighting the bitter jealousy bubbling up in her throat watching the little reuinion, clenching her jaw and turning away.

the plane you thought might be a reprise from the awkward tension of being around your ex girlfriend and her ex girlfriend who was seeming quite touchy with both of you, though of course neither of you were going to communicate the issues you were feeling even if they were the exact same.

jealousy.

but the plane was no reprise at all as of course alba all but shoved you into a seat which was right next to alexia, sandwiching you in between the two of them as you silently screamed, sending the taller girl a tight lipped smile which she returned.

you felt relief when laia, misa and jenni sat the row in front, engaging the three of you in conversation for most of the flight meaning you weren't subjected to any small talk with alexia who you assumed would still likely be feeling the sting of your rejection from this morning.

however nothing seemed to deter alba who very clearly had an agenda that didn't align with your own as exactly alike the flight you found yourself shoved into a seat next to alexia in the small van that picked all of you up from the airport to take you to the house you'd all booked.

"switch with me!" you mouthed and glared at the girl who slid into the seat next to ona in the row across from you who pretended she couldn't lip read, shrugging in fake confusion and turning to make conversation.

you snuck a glance to the older girl beside you whose attention was fixated out the window and away from you, both of you clearly trying not to touch one another as you leant your shoulders away as if you'd burn each other at a simple nudge or bump.

still a little tired from your sudden wake up call this morning you allowed the hum of chatter from your friends around you and the bouncing around of the van lull you into a much needed nap, slipping your sunglasses down over your eyes to hide the fact.

you blinked a few times as you felt your body shake side to side gently. "hey." you lifted your head and pushed your sunglasses up and off your nose, rubbing your eyes.

"bon dia, we're here." you glanced to meet alexia's amused smile, though as soon as your eyes met hers it slipped away and was replaced with a much more stoic look as she nodded for you to stand.

filing off the van you stumbled as a body crashed into yours almost taking you to the ground with them. "misa!" you huffed shoving her away with a roll of your eyes as she grinned and grabbed your bag for you.

"that was for that stupid goal!" she was now the one to roll her eyes as your lips curled into a grin and you allowed her arm to slip over your shoulders and pull you toward the house with her.

"that goal was earned, completely fair and legal." you laughed in response to the recent el classico where you'd chipped a goal over her head as she'd rushed out to collect it.

"maybe, but still very embarrassing." the keeper sighed before shoving you away from her as you continued to laugh, the two of you falling easily into conversation as you walked side by side, the taller girl still carrying your bag for you.

"that would be cute." alexia glanced up as jenni appeared next to her, suggestive grin plastered to her face as the catalan only shrugged, trying to swallow the jealousy which clawed at her throat at the sight of you laughing and messing about with misa a few metes in front.

the way you used to be with her, before she had to go and mess everything up.

"whats wrong chica? your face is so long it is hitting the ground." jenni nudged her again, raising an eyebrow as alexia brushed it off and mumbled she was fine, jenni dropping it for now with a hum of disbelief.

thankfully when it came to room arrangements it was pairs and you grabbed alba before she could utter a word, dragging her to the first room you could find and shoving her inside, kicking the door shut.

"what are you up to?" you asked her straight away with an accusatory finger pointed in her direction. "amiga, nothing!" the younger putellas shrugged with her hands raised, claiming one of the beds and sitting on the edge.

"alba." you warned, crossing your arms and scowling, knowing too well she clearly had some sort of agenda. "you and misa used to date, no?" the brunette asked, catching you off guard as you gave her a look.

"no? we hooked up once after the euros, we were just happy from the win and very drunk, it meant nothing and we never felt the need to speak about it again. we’re just friends, always have been.” you answered her after she repeated the question. "you know, sort of like you and my sister!" you reminded, speaking a little too loudly as the girl moved to crash tackle you.

"mierda shut up! nobody knows about that and its going to stay that way!" alba grunted as the two of you rolled around smacking and pinching one another like children.

the door opened and a few of the girls spilled in, a horde of spanish chatter filling the room and you groaned as they joined in piling on top of you, a flurry of limbs and hair and laughter.

"chicas! happy hour, vamos!" jenni sauntered in next with a bottle of tequila in hand and you could finally breathe as the pile of bodies on top of you began to depart.

"off!" you wheezed, pushing aitana and alba off last as the two collapsed into giggles either side of you. "that was nearly worse than the euros." you struggled to catch your breath, having scored the winning goal and having half your team jump on top of you had dampened the moment.

"probably less sweaty." "much less sweaty!"

~

the first couple of days passed by without too many issues, you steered clear of alexia as much as you could and she did the same, despite alba's best efforts to force the two of you into unconventional situations which she seemed to have roped aitana and ona into helping much.

though once half the group left to spend a little time with family before club training resumed, it became a little harder to avoid one another.

laid down on a boat in the middle of the ocean you knew you should be at your most relaxed. the drinks were flowing, the sun was shining, the water was crystal clear blue and the weight had been partially lifted from your shoulders as you knew for now what the immediate future held.

or so you thought.

starting to feel the heat prickle at your skin you shifted, beads of sweat dotting your brow as you pushed your sunglasses up and rested on your elbows, surveying the small group laid about on the deck.

"ey, swim?" you nudged aitana beside you who groaned and swatted you away, alba beside her giving you a thumbs down making you chuckle. accepting your solo fate you dropped your sunglasses onto your towel and stood properly and wandered toward the swim deck, diving off into the water, leaving your friends behind you.

surfacing you exhaled and trod water for a minute, watching the blurry figures of people jumping off the cliffs a few hundred metres away.

your skin prickling with goosebumps you dove back under one more time and swam your way over to the small swim deck just beneath the boat, pulling yourself up to sit with your feet still dangling in the water.

leaning back on your hands you closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. "hola." you jumped at the unexpected voice, not having heard anyone else join you as your eyes snapped open and alexia pulled herself up to sit a healthy distance away from you.

"hola." you murmured back, looking back toward the cliffs as a silence settled between you both, the only sound the distance chatter of your friends above you.

"will we always be like this?" you turned your head at that, frowning a little. "like what?" you dared to question, admittedly a little worried for what the answer might be. "pretending the other does not exist." there was a tiny smile behind her words, both of you clearly picking up on one anothers intention.

"or like you hate me." the smile dissapeared for that sentence and you sighed, kicking your legs back and forth. "i don't. i could never hate you alexia, i told you that already." you sighed, looking right at her as now she avoided your eyes, kicking her own legs in the water with a hum.

"can we try to be friends? we used to be, before...everything." the blonde questioned still refusing to meet your eye. "yeah, i'd like that." you answered, not really giving yourself another moment to overthink it and what that might mean.

~

turns out, it was a little easier than you thought.

you stopped avoiding alexia like she had some sort of disease and she did the same, you'd talk sometimes, normally in a group setting to ease the awkwardness of this new adjustment.

alba, ona and aitana somehow only took this as more of a green light to continue with their agenda of forcing you and alexia into increasingly awkward situations.

the most recent of which was alba 'accidentally' passing out in alexia's bed so she had to stay in alba's which was of course two metres across the room from you, that was quite the rude shock for you to wake up to that next morning.

and now you found yourself packed into a club, having had three or five too many shots forced down you and the room a little hazy as you sat back down with another drink thrust into your hand.

"hola amiga." misa chuckled as you sagged into her, sipping from your glass with a hum. "you two look cosy." jenni grinned over the top of her own drink, wiggling her eyebrows as the two of you gave her a strange look and ignored her comments.

you failed to miss a stone cold sober alexia staring at you from the other end of the table, an unreadable look on her face but clear disdain in her eyes at the way you seemed far too comfortable with the goalkeeper beside you.

luckily she didn't have to simmer for long as you were whisked away by your friends onto the dance floor, jenni grabbing a very reluctant alexia next ignoring her protests with an iron clad hold on your wrist, laia in tow pushing her from behind narrowing her chance of escape.

though you were clearly anything but sober it didn't take you long to catch onto yet another one of alba's schemes as she pulled you in for a dance, her hands a little more touchy than usual.

"are you trying to use yourself to make your sister jealous?" you asked her quietly as she ground into you, shoving her away slightly with a raised eyebrow. "no! i can't dance with you now?" alba laughed but you didn't miss the way her eyes flickered over your shoulder to clearly check if alexia was watching.

she was, of course.

the girl in question was trying desperately to contain the burning in her chest and the longing that she wanted to dance with you again. not with her other friends who spun her around and teased her that she wouldn't die if she smiled and pretended like she was having a good time.

grabbing alba you dragged her off to the side ignoring her tipsy whines as you found a semi quiet corner of the club. "stop alba!" you warned as the girl leant into the wall and gave you a confused look.

"stop what amiga?" she smiled innocently as you rolled your eyes. "you know what, we broke up alba and its staying that way. we are trying to be friends and you are making it impossible with all these awkward attempts to force us back together, so stop!" you warned again, tone much more serious as alba now rolled her eyes.

"you and alexia cannot just be friends." alba laughed, the tequila speaking more than she really was as you scoffed. "why not? lots of exes are friends." you argued, a slight slur to your own words as your drinks started to kick in.

"no they are not. you and alexia will not stay friends, i see the way she looks at you and the way you look at her. you still love her hermosa, so go and get her!" alba grabbed your face in her hands, squishing your cheeks in her fingers.

"of course i still love her but its not that simple-" "what do you love about her hm?" "albs thats not what i-" "go on! why do you still love her?" "well you don't just fall out of love with someone when you feel like you have no choice in the break up. but she left me alba, and that hurts!" you sighed, downing the rest of your drink.

"you still love me?" your head whipped around at that and your eyes widened, alba mumbling something and darting away before you could strangle her.

"can we talk outside? please?" alexia asked, eyes pleading as you hesitated but gave in with a nod, following her outside and away from the club, pausing to get stamps on your hand from the bouncer so you could get back in later.

"you wanted to talk?" you chuckled as an awkward silence fell between you two once you'd wandered a little further away, sitting down together on a table from a cafe which was long closed.

"why are we broken up?" alexia asked, neither one of you facing each other. "you know why alexia, we had the whole conversation last week. cried and hugged and then slept together, remember!" you replied rather bluntly, the buzz from the alcohol still present.

"si and then you left, without a word." alexia added on. "si because like you just said, we are broken up." "but why are we broken up?" "alexia we just-"

"no. i mean why are we broken up? i love you cariño, and you love me. i know i made a huge mistake but i don't know how else to apologize for it without a second chance to prove it." you could feel her eyes burning holes in the side of your head as you sighed again.

"alexia we just agreed we would try to be friends again, literally a few days ago!" you massaged your temple already feeling a headache coming on.

"i know but i do not want to be your friend. i want more and i know you do too and you are scared, and that is understandable but nothing worth doing is ever easy." the blonde pushed, grabbing your hands, a little surprised when you allowed her to and actually met her gaze.

"i am still retiring and i am still leaving to work for the UN in that program ale, nothing will change my mind." you stated firmly, heartbeat accelerating.

"i am not trying to change your mind amor. i want you to go, i know what it means to you and i know that you need to do this, for you." she promised, squeezing your hands gently.

"i know you will be gone for six months but planes exist, i will have breaks between games, i will make time for you. you wanted time to find peace with us, to work out how to fix things and how to go back to how we were, this could be that time and that space. but i promise you mi amor am not going anywhere while you take that time and do what you need to. i will be here when you leave and i will be here when you come back, and i will still love you every single moment in between that."

you struggled to come up with a reason to fight her on this, a reason not to crumble and fall right back into things with her like you never stopped.

her eyes bore into yours and you felt yourself slip closer and closer to the edge, your feet slipping and sliding as your legs took their own course and the ground seemed to shift only pushing you nearer and nearer to the inevitable, and then you fell.

the way her lips pressed against yours was different than the rushed messy kisses after you'd poured your hearts out to one another on the physio bench, where it seemed those were trying to scramble and rush to make up for time lost, as if deep down you both knew this was a mistake and that it could be the last time you ever really had with one another.

but this kiss was different.

your hand moved to gently clasp her cheek as her own fell to your shoulder and your hip, pulling your body flush into hers as you melted into one another.

she kissed you like time stood still at her command, lips soft and warm and welcoming, her touch tender and yet still cautious as if you could crack and smash if she pushed just a fraction too hard.

you could never deny the way she made you feel just so entirely wrapped up in love with just a simple kiss, how your head spun like a wheel and your heart swelled in your chest like someone was pumping air into it.

despite the alcohol in your bloodstream the way your head felt light and tingly was a different sort of drunk, and the way you chased after her lips again as she started to pull away just hit the nail further into the coffin that you were truly addicted to the way they tasted and felt against yours.

eventually you both allowed one another a moment to collect your thoughts, foreheads pressed together and chests heaving to catch your breath, pulled out of your lovesick haze by a rogue wolf whistle from a drunken party goer across the street.

"i love you too."

~

nine months later

"and you fly in tomorrow?" "si." "and you will text me as you are leaving and when you land?" "si." "and mami and i will come and get you from the airport?" "si." "and you are all packed?" "si." "you are feeling okay hermanita, about coming home again?" "si." you rolled your eyes at your sisters never ending prompting. "are you saying yes to everything she is asking to shut her up?" "ingrid!" "what? she is not a performing monkey maría she is probably exhausted and sad and a little stressed about coming home, and you have already asked her these things one hundred times!" "whose side are you on here? you are worried too!"

"maría do you remember how you once asked me why i spent more time with you once you started seeing ingrid? and if it was because i felt uh what was it? oh yes! jealous that someone else was 'stealing your time away from me'." you smiled, shuffling your phone to your other ear as your sister scoffed. "...i do not recall that." she mumbled. "well to answer your question i started spending more time with you once you started seeing ingrid because i wanted to spend more time with ingrid, not you!" at that you heard a roar of laughter from the norweigein and your sister and her girlfriend start bickering as the grin on your face grew, quickly muting your phone as a flight was called.

"okay love birds i will see you tomorrow. te amo mucho hermana, adios!" with that you clicked end call, cutting off your sister mid sentence and sighing in relief as your bag finally appeared on the luggage carousel.

your phone vibrating in your hand you chuckled seeing it was a message from ingrid informing she would wait until tomorrow morning to inform your sister you were in fact already home, having conferred with the older girl from the very moment you'd created this plan.

finally making your way through customs you exhaled deeply as you dragged your suitcase out into the arrivals lounge, already knowing where you needed to head as you pulled away from the hustle and bustle of reunions, tears, hugs and prying eyes.

double checking you were going the right way you pushed your sunglasses down over your eyes and grinned feeling the warm barcelona sunshine bathe your face.

you swore to yourself as your suitcase wheel broke, huffing and dragging it the rest of the way along the crossing and into the carpark.

"dios mio! so much luggage, someone might think you have been away for a long time."

the suitcase fell to the ground as you turned around, meeting her twinkling eyes and amused smile as she spun her keys around on her pointer finger, head mostly covered by her hood as she pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead.

"mm i have been on a grand adventure. i am actually waiting for my girlfriend to pick me up, she has been so miserable while i was away, praying each and every day for my safe return." you met her smile with one of your own as the blonde hummed, stopping right in front of you still spinning her keys around.

"you must be a special girl to have someone so hung up on you. funny because i am actually here to pick up my girlfriend who has been away for many months, who i have not visited, kissed, seen or touched in nearly..." she held up a finger and glanced to the watch on her wrist.

"...60 days. so 1460 hours which means 876000 minutes." the taller girl grinned, catching her keys in her palm and within milliseconds her hands landed on your hips and pulled you into a bone crushing hug as you deeply inhaled the forever familiar scent of her favourite perfume.

"make that zero days, zero hours, zero minutes and zero seconds." you whispered in her ear, her forehead pressing against yours as the two of you held one anothers embrace. "still far too long princessa, still far too long." she mumbled, having come and seen you as often as she could while you'd been away.

though the distance was hard it did allow you the time you needed to work through your thoughts, and on her third time visiting you'd made things official once again.

but the bigger picture was that it had allowed your heart and your happiness time to find purpose in something else, and so now you'd returned to barcelona with a new outlook on life and a weight lifted from your shoulders so immense you could have sworn you'd grown an inch or two without its stress.

you realised as much as you loved learning, you had quite the passion for teaching and helping and spreading that joy of learning, and so halfway through your program you'd enrolled to start university back in spain to become a teacher.

some of the coaching staff from barca had reached out to see if you'd be interested in some part time work with the junior academy, cautious in their approach not to push you back into anything to do with football too soon, but also with alexia breathing down their neck for an answer.

you'd agreed, explaining that you still loved football if you weren't in love with football, and that if they would have you then you would be lucky for the opportunity.

alexia had done her best to try and act surprised, even though your sister and her own had kept you well informed of her dealings with the coaching staff who had hardly taken much persuading to offer you the role anyway, more so surprised that you were so interested still.

"welcome home mi amor, for good."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i am well aware this has taken awhile! but i have written and deleted this chapter more times than i care to admit, in some endings they broke up, in some (like this one) they got together. i realised no matter what the ending would be there would always be a handful who wished for something different, so i just wrote what i wanted and not what i thought others would, as i have with every chapter of this little series. thank you all very much for reading along &lt;3