#don’t think it’ll resolve everything but it’ll resolve something

[toorvu]

Gentle…

[exopelagic]

JAIL FOR SUPERVISOR FOR 1000 YEARS

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THE THINGS YOU DO FOR LOVE... ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him. 

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time. 

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips. 

he can’t be serious. 

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly. 

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice. 

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week. 

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it. 

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him. 

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could. 

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package — 

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt. 

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit. 

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards. 

but no — he wanted you to wear it. 

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?” 

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too. 

”— because you love me?” 

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly. 

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?” 

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble — 

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak — 

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer. 

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?” 

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly. 

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows. 

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t. 

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love. 

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all. 

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh. 

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant. 

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this… 

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate. 

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry. 

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.” 

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings. 

it’s a perfect fit. 

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit. 

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves. 

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute. 

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?) 

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

 ”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses. 

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together. 

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer. 

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear. 

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected. 

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.) 

”… why aren’t you saying anything?” 

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet. 

he’s completely stunned. 

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck. 

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy. 

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal. 

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears. 

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens. 

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle. 

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration. 

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look. 

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression. 

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.” 

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear. 

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted. 

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters. 

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet. 

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all. 

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips. 

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins. 

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. 

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin. 

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying. 

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink. 

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile. 

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!” 

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible. 

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there. 

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful — 

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

[sabrinajenre96]

The line we walk

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Detective!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of drug abuse, emotional confrontation, reckless behavior, strong language, hurt/comfort, Isabel Bradford manipulation, protective!Reader

Word Count: ~2,300 words

Summary: Tim’s past comes crashing into the present, clouding his judgment and putting his rookie in danger. When Lucy confides in Y/N, it leads to a confrontation that could either shatter or save everything Tim and Y/N have built together.

The bullpen had quieted down for the night, but Y/N's thoughts were anything but calm.

She leaned against her desk, watching Lucy sit at hers—expression withdrawn, posture tight. Y/N had always had a soft spot for Lucy. Maybe because they were close in age, maybe because she reminded her of herself when she was Tim’s rookie… but mostly because Lucy was kind, brave, and becoming a damn good cop.

“Something happened,” Y/N said quietly.

Lucy hesitated. “It’s not my place…”

“Spit it out, Chen.”

And Lucy did. She recounted the training scenario Tim had orchestrated. The sudden appearance of Isabel. Tim's mood shift. The reckless confrontation with a biker gang. No backup. Just them. And the danger that nearly swallowed them whole.

Y/N's heart thudded painfully. She knew how deeply Isabel affected Tim—but this? This was a betrayal of everything he taught her as his rookie.

“I’m going to talk to him,” she said, jaw clenched.

But Lucy stood and stopped her. “Please. Let me. I want to deal with it.”

Y/N looked into her eyes and saw the rookie’s resolve. She nodded slowly. “Fine. But if anything like this happens again, you come to me. No hesitation.”

Lucy promised.

---

A month passed. Things calmed.

Until Isabel showed up in cuffs.

Y/N’s instincts flared. Lucy noticed it too and kept an eye on Tim. The moment she saw him act off again—quiet, twitchy, distracted—she called Y/N.

“He’s slipping.”

Y/N knew what she had to do.

---

She found Isabel first.

“What did you ask him to do?” Y/N demanded, cornering Isabel in holding.

Isabel only smirked. “Just reminded him I exist. That I need help. He owes me that.”

“No. He doesn’t,” Y/N hissed. “You already took enough from him.”

---

She left, pissed and sick with worry. Lucy tried to come with her, but Y/N wouldn’t let her.

“You have a test tomorrow, Lucy. Don’t ruin your future because Isabel decided to haunt his.”

Y/N drove straight to the rundown apartment building Isabel was holed up in, heart pounding. Tim’s truck was there.

She parked, got out, and stormed up.

He was leaning against the building, arms crossed. Grumpy as ever.

“You shouldn't be here,” he muttered.

“Too bad.”

His indifference shattered her restraint.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped. “A month ago you picked a fight with bikers and put Lucy in danger—your rookie. Today you’re skulking around a known dealer’s apartment like you’re about to make the dumbest mistake of your life.”

“You don’t get it—”

“No, you don’t get it!” she shouted, her voice echoing. “This is not the man I fell in love with! You’re not the TO who made me who I am. You’re not the cop with rules and integrity who refused to let a single case corrupt him. You’re acting like the broken shell Isabel left behind.”

His jaw tightened.

“She left you. Chose drugs over you. Then divorce. And now she shows up, and you’re ready to throw away your career, your freedom, and our future to save her from consequences she earned?!”

“She needs help.”

“And what’s your great idea, huh? Tamper with evidence? Ruin everything you’ve built? You think that’ll help her? Or are you just letting guilt cloud your judgment? Because this—this—won’t change her. It’ll only destroy you.”

She stepped closer, voice gentler now. “I know you have a good heart, Tim. That’s why I fell for you. But you can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. Isabel is manipulating you. Again.”

She met his eyes, hers shimmering.

“I love you. More than life itself. But I won’t watch you burn for someone who already lit the match.”

She paused, breath catching. “So here it is. You have two choices. Go through that door, and risk jail, your badge, and a future with me… or walk away. Let Isabel face her choices. And come home. If you even see me in your future.”

The last words hit him like a punch.

She turned, walked to her car.

Just before getting in, she faced him one last time.

“You know where to find me.”

Then she was gone.

---

Two hours later, a knock.

Y/N opened the door to find him standing there, eyes red-rimmed, shoulders slumped.

“I made my choice.”

She braced.

“I didn’t do it. I chose you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes.

“You were right. I let her mess with my head. I felt guilt—not love. I almost ruined everything. I’m sorry.”

She stepped forward, hugging him tightly. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I know.”

She pulled back slightly. “You need to apologize to Lucy too.”

“I will. First thing tomorrow.”

“You were the reason I made detective. You trained me right. You owe Lucy the same.”

“I’ll make it right.”

She let him in. And later, in bed, when silence settled, he whispered:

“I see a future with you.”

Y/N turned to him.

“A real one. Marriage. Big house. Dog. Maybe a few kids. Even with my screwed-up past… I want all of it. With you.”

She kissed him softly, eyes shining.

“Then let’s build it. Together.”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, finally on the same path again.

[sknymnnie]

The Fitting Room Doesn’t Lie

The lighting in the dressing room was cruel. Fluorescent, cold, and merciless — the kind that made you see every fold, every crease, every insecurity you were already trying to hide.

You stood there in front of the mirror last year, arms stiff at your sides, 143 pounds and uncomfortable in your own skin. The jeans clung too tight at the waist, the crop top your friend handed you barely grazed your belly button. You didn’t want to come shopping. But she insisted.

“It’ll be fun!” she said brightly. “You just need to get out of the house.”

You thought she meant to help. But then came the comments.

“You know, I think this would flatter me more than you.” “Ugh, don’t worry, I can’t wear stuff like that either… when I’m bloated.” “It’s just genetics, you know? Some of us are built to be lean.”

She wasn’t trying to help. She was trying to look better standing next to you.

Every outfit was a trap. Every compliment had claws. And every smile she gave in the mirror seemed just a bit wider when you stepped out of the stall looking defeated.

You swallowed the embarrassment. Laughed it off. Went home and stared at yourself in the mirror for too long.

That night, something shifted. Not rage. Not revenge.

Resolve.

It started with small choices. Water instead of soda. Saying no to that extra plate. Walks that turned into workouts. Binging that slowly turned into control.

Month after month. Bite by bite. You peeled yourself out of the version of you she loved standing beside.

And by the time the next winter rolled around?

50 pounds gone. Down to 90.

Tiny waist. Slim arms. Subtle ribs beneath soft knit sweaters. Hip bones gently curved beneath fitted jeans. Collarbone sharp and high.

You didn’t just look different.

You moved different.

So when she texted you again — “Let’s do another shopping day like old times!” — you said yes.

But this time, you were ready.

She met you outside the mall, holding two lattes and wearing a familiar smirk. She scanned you once — top to bottom — and tried to hide the shock behind her lashes.

“You’ve… really lost weight.”

“Yeah,” you said simply. “Been taking care of myself.”

She blinked. Didn’t know what to say. So she handed you your latte and tried to lead like she always did.

But when you stepped into the first store and reached for a hanger, she hesitated.

“Oh… that’s an extra small,” she said casually. “They run really tight here.”

You turned the tag in your hand, then smiled.

“Good. That’s my size now.”

In the fitting room, the same cruel lighting hit differently. Now it caught the smooth outline of your arms, the flatness of your stomach, the soft shadows between your ribs. The skirt hugged your hips and stopped at the perfect spot on your thigh. The crop top actually skimmed your waist instead of clinging to it.

You stepped out. She was already outside, pulling at her waistband.

She looked up. Froze.

“Oh. Wow.”

And that was all she said. Because that was all she could say.

You turned slightly to check the back in the mirror — long hair falling just above the small of your back, waist cinched, sleeves loose at the wrist. You didn’t tug or adjust anything.

Everything fit.

And it fit you — the new you.

She tried to keep up. Grabbed a tighter dress, asked for a smaller size, even changed her makeup in the store mirror. But her energy shifted. There was no hiding the discomfort now.

You were the one people glanced at. You were the one who turned heads. She was just… there.

At checkout, the cashier smiled warmly at you.

“You should model,” they said, folding your outfit gently. “You look amazing in everything you tried on.”

You smiled back, soft and knowing.

“Thank you. I’ve been working on that.”

You didn’t look at your friend — didn’t need to.

She was already looking at you.

And this time?

She wasn’t standing next to you to shine.

She was standing there, realizing you’d outgrown the role she kept trying to keep you in.

This is for me simply because I can't find the other shopping one that I used to read all the time, so I felt a new one was in order.

[covenofagatha]

Okay hear me out Agatha x Reader age gap fic. The reader and Agatha have been together for awhile I was thinking like she used to be your college professor before you graduated, The reader has a monthly night out scheduled with friends from school but Agatha like usual declines in your offer to join you all. Agatha just doesn’t have interest in the “young people bars” and hanging out with old students is strange to her, though it’s a little upsetting you don’t push too much before relenting and going on your way. A little bit into the night despite your efforts in avoiding said persons advances you’re being continuously hit on by either a stranger in the bar or a friend from the group that is your choice! But the resolve would be Agatha showing up cause she felt guilty about always declining, her witnessing and then defusing the situation (jealously obviously). I absolutely love possessive Agatha and love everything you’ve written so far! Whether it ends in smut is also completely up to you!!!

Hope you enjoy and thank you for the very detailed request!! This will be a two-parter and the next part will be based on a request I got about jealous reader x Professor Agatha.

A lesson in jealousy (Part 1)

Agatha gets jealous when she finds you at a bar and a guy is already talking to you.

Word count: 2100

Tags: marking, jealousy, making out, slight thigh grinding

“I was thinking of ordering pizza for tonight?” Agatha muses, already looking at you when you turn your head to face her. 

You’re sitting on the couch in her office, nose buried in a book for one of your other classes. Agatha was your professor two years ago and there had been a spark, at least on your end, so you had kept in touch. 

It wasn’t until a year ago when you had bridged the gap between a professional relationship and something more when you had kissed her one night after getting drinks at a bar across town. 

You had immediately pulled back, apologizing incessantly, but much to your surprise, she had dragged you back in for more. 

That night was the first of many that you spent in her bed. 

Although she was no longer your teacher, you still attended the college that she worked at, so there was a bit of a gray area. Meaning, you two had to keep it under wraps. 

“Oh, sorry,” you say, finally answering Agatha’s question. “I’m going out with my friends tonight. It’s our monthly bar trivia thing that we always do. I think I told you.” She hums and you frown. “What?” 

Agatha shrugs. “Seems like we haven’t had a quiet night in awhile, that’s all.” 

“You could always come tonight,” you offer hopefully. Her nose wrinkles and she raises an eyebrow and you know why she’s being like this. “You could just happen to show up and I’ll just happen to see you and I’ll invite you to join our team. It’ll be fun!” 

And yet you know her answer before she even says it. “That’s not really my scene, baby.” You pout and slouch down further into the couch. She has never once taken you up on an invitation, even though you practically beg her every time. She rolls her eyes exasperatedly. It’s an old game for both of you. “Come on, hon, you know I have no interest in going to a bar with a bunch of college kids on a Friday night where everyone will be drinking and making noise and I taught most of your friends. I just think that it will be weird.” 

A flash of anger bubbles up to protect you from the hurt you feel deep down. Would it kill her to do something for you? “I’m also a college kid who will be out drinking and ‘making noise’ and you were my professor two years ago. Is that weird?” 

She sighs heavily and pushes her chair back, patting her thighs. She wants you to come over, but you grit your teeth and don’t give in. “Of course not. That’s not what I meant, obviously. Just spending my Friday evening with a bunch of college kids isn’t what I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

You stand up, shoving your books and laptop in your bag and Agatha scoffs and says your name. You meet her eyes, disappointment written all over your face. It kills you to show her how much her rejection hurts, but you’re tired of it. 

“Come here, please,” she says softly. You grumble but obey. You slide off your backpack and sit on her laps, tensely putting your arms around her neck. Despite how mad you are, you still fiddle with her strands on her nape that aren’t in her bun. She leans in to kiss your lips but you don’t let it go any further than a press of her mouth against yours. You won’t give in that easily. 

“You never come,” you whine. 

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know, sweetheart. I just worry it might be risky for us to be seen out in public like that. Why don’t you come over after and we can have a movie night or something? I’ll take you to a bar tomorrow night, I promise. Just the two of us.”

You can see there’s no use trying to fight her on this. No matter what you say, she won’t come with you and you’d rather not have to open up and tell her how you want to just spend a night with the most important people in your life: Agatha and your best friends. You also feel a little insecure about being so young. She is over twice your age and you worry that sometimes you aren’t enough for her, or that she thinks you’re too immature. “Okay,” you say, voice small. 

She squeezes your waist and gives you another peck. “That’s my girl. Don’t come over too late and I’ll make it worth your while.” She winks and you force a smile and climb off her lap. 

“I’ll see you later, Agatha.” 

“Hon, you don’t have to leave right now,” she calls but you’re already walking to the door. You wave a hand as a goodbye and you moodily walk back to your dorm. 

You sulk the rest of the day and debate whether or not you even want to go out to the bar, but ultimately decide that you deserve it. You don’t need Agatha to have a good time, as much as you’d like her. 

“There she is! It’s been awhile!” Natasha exclaims when you get to their table and claps a hand on your back. You wince but pull her in for a hug. You’ve been swamped with homework and when you do have free time, it’s spent with Agatha, so you have barely seen your friends in the past month. 

“Sorry, I’ve been so busy,” you mumble while greeting Wanda and Maria, also at the table. 

“First round is on you for neglecting us!” Wanda says and you laugh and happily go to the bar to order beers for the group. 

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks when you finally make your way through the crowd. 

“Four Pilsners, please,” you almost have to shout. Someone next to you bumps into you roughly and you jump. 

“Oh shit, sorry.” A guy about your age turns around, with shaggy dark hair and blue eyes. Something about his features is so familiar. 

“You’re good,” you say. “Do I know you?” 

He stares intently at your face, trying to place you. He snaps his fingers. “Professor Harkness’s class, freshman year. Something about witchcraft. I sat in the row in front you. You were like the only one who actually knew what they were talking about. I think you were her favorite by a long shot.” 

You blush at hearing that someone else picked up on Agatha liking you. “I don’t know if I’d say that,” you say coyly, smiling a little at the thought of the older woman. 

“I’m James. So, uh,” the boy says, sliding a hand nonchalantly around your waist. You freeze. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone at a bar?” 

“I’m not alone,” you quickly say, stepping back so his hand falls off, and you point to the table with your friends. “We’re here for trivia night.” 

His face lights up and he motions toward a different table with a group of guys. “We are too, but they all suck. Can I join your team?” 

“Um-” You’re trying to figure out how to let him down gently when the bartender puts down the four beers in front of you. You reach for your wallet but James slaps a $20 on the counter. 

“I got it,” he says proudly and then before you can protest, he grabs two of the beers and you follow with the other drinks, dumbfounded, as he walks over to your table. Your friends give you quizzical looks but you just shrug tiredly. You can’t find it in yourself to care that much right now. 

The host of the trivia game comes around to each table and hands out the paper for answers and a pen. He asks the first question: when is Taylor Swift’s birthday. 

You immediately say the answer and James pats his hand on your shoulder but it turns into more of a rub. Your eyes widen and your friends bite back a smile. 

“I’m actually seeing someone,” you say and take his hand off of you. Your friends look even more surprised than he does. Even though you’ve been dating Agatha for close to a year now, you’ve been really secretive and change the topic whenever your love life comes up with them. 

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he says, raising his arms like he’s trying to show you that he’s harmless. He moves to touch you again but a hand darts out and grabs his wrist. You turn and your jaw falls open. 

It’s Agatha, and she is positively fuming. 

“I think she said she’s taken,” she growls and James backs off. 

“Professor Harkness,” he stutters. “I wasn’t trying to do anything, we were just having a good time.” He turns to you, eyes pleading. It’s almost funny how scary he still finds the older woman. “Tell her, we were just talking.” 

You wish he had said anything but that. Agatha whirls onto you. “Were you?” She hisses and you gulp. She scoffs as you protest and storms out of the bar. 

Ignoring the looks from your friends, you chase after her down the alleyway. 

“Agatha, wait,” you yell. “He kept hitting on me and I was trying to let him down gently but he kept trying. I told him that I was with someone else! I’m sorry.” 

She spins on her heel and advances toward you. You stop like a deer in headlights and she shoves you against the brick wall before you can think. Her hands grab your wrists and pin them to the wall. You struggle futilely. 

“Is this your pathetic attempt of getting back at me?” You furrow your brows in confusion and she laughs sardonically. “I was feeling so guilty earlier. You looked so sad when I didn’t want to come and I thought that maybe I could try, for you. I always say no and what a nice surprise it would be for my girlfriend if I showed up. And then what do I find? My pet is flirting with someone else. Not just someone, a sleazy college boy who would probably cum after two pumps because he’s so incompetent.” She’s snarling, her face an inch away from yours, and you hate how turned on you are. 

You’ve always liked it when she got possessive over you. 

“I didn’t want him,” you say levelly. “I only want you.” 

She huffs like it’s a joke. “Sure you don’t want the college fuckboy? Or any of the other people in the bar? They’d never hesitate to join you for trivia night.” 

And then it hits you. She’s jealous because she’s insecure. She also worries about the age difference. 

Your heart swells and you break free of her grasp to grab her cheeks and pull her in for a long and filthy kiss. You moan into her mouth when her tongue swipes against yours and she fits a thigh between your legs. 

“I’m all yours, Agatha,” you groan when she tugs your bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes flash. 

“You better be,” she warns and entangles her fingers in your hair so she can tilt your head to the side and sink a bite into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Your hips buck on her thigh and you gasp when she sucks roughly. She trails up your neck, doing the same thing over and over, and you’re quickly reduced to a moaning, desperate mess. 

Her other hand trails down to hold onto your hip, just feeling you shakily grind against her, trying to get some relief. 

“Should I go back inside and get James to come out and watch this?” She asks against your skin, still marking you up. “So he knows what happens when he touches things that aren’t his?” 

You inhale sharply at the thought and wish that she would just drag you back inside and fuck you right there on the table in front of everyone. 

“Please,” you beg. She actually giggles and pulls back to admire her handiwork on your neck. She lightly traces over the marks and you shiver under her touch and intense gaze. 

Agatha smirks when she meets your eyes again. “That should let everyone know who you belong to. And you, in case you need the reminder.” 

You pretend to think for a moment. “Maybe I could use a refresher. Why don’t you show me who owns me?” 

Her eyes darken even more as she pulls you back in for a searing kiss that she ends too quickly. 

She yanks her thigh from out between yours and grabs your hand, dragging you to the car. 

“Oh, I’m going to, baby.”

[boobabietch]

You needed me | Paige Bueckers x reader

Warnings: smuttttt, sub!Paige, bottom!Paige, oral (p receiving), fingering (P receiving), no use of Y/N, reader is annoying and it annoys Paige lmao

A/N: Based on this request and honestly I’m such a sucker for sub!Paige and I think this woman needs to be pleased more often!!!! As always English is not my first language so if you find something wrong tell me so I can change it asap, likes, reblogs and comments(!!!) are highly appreciated and my ask box is always open, with nothing else to say, enjoy! Love Sof :))

You could see it from the moment she woke up, Paige was in one of her moods. The kind where every little thing seemed to set her off, and no matter how hard you tried to lighten things up, it only seemed to make her retreat further into herself.

You understood her better than anyone, though.

Knew when to push and when to back off, so you gave her space, letting her have her silence. But now, as the night dragged on, you couldn’t take it anymore. The silence never sat right between you two, not for long.

So, you walked into her room, flopping down next to her without saying a word. Paige didn’t even glance up, just kept scrolling through her phone, her face scrunched up like she was still lost in whatever frustration she’d been holding onto all day. You waited for a minute, feeling the tension between you both.

It was killing you.

“You still mad?” you finally asked, your voice low but teasing.

“Not mad,” she huffed, but you could see the tightness in her jaw, the way her body tensed just from your presence.

“Sure, you’re not,” you muttered, reaching out to brush a stray lock of blonde hair from her face. She glared at you, but it lacked any real heat, more of that leftover irritation than actual anger. You pressed closer, your hand traveling to cup her jaw lightly, feeling her resolve start to crack. “Come on, P. Don’t be like that.”

Her sigh told you everything you needed to know. She was giving in, even if she didn��t want to admit it yet. But for you, that wasn’t enough.

You shifted even closer, hand on her waist, pulling her closer, lips brushing against her neck, soft at first, just enough to make her shiver. “You know you can’t stay mad at me for long,” you whispered, smirking as you felt the slight tremble in her body.

She didn’t respond, but you knew you were wearing her down. Kissing along her jaw, your hands found her thighs, resting there lightly at first, just testing the waters. “You wanna keep being annoyed, or you wanna let me make it better?” you murmured, your voice dropping into that low, raspy tone that always got to her.

Still no answer, but the way her breath hitched, the way her hands twitched, told you everything. You took that as your green light, hands slipping up her thighs, pushing her legs apart as you settled between them, your lips trailing lower, kissing, biting, taking her sports bra off and tossing it aside carelessly, knowing exactly how to push her buttons. Paige let out a shaky breath, and you couldn’t help the smug grin that tugged at your lips.

“I’m sorry for being annoying,” you murmured against her skin, your mouth hovering over her breast. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?”

She didn’t say anything, but her fingers tangled in your hair, tugging you closer, and that was all the permission you needed. You knew exactly what she liked, how to touch her, how to kiss her

How to please her.

And you could feel the tension in her body melting away with each passing second.

Your lips trailed lower, kissing her stomach, your hands working quickly but not too fast, teasing, making her squirm beneath you. By the time you had her shorts off, whatever had her upset was long forgotten. Her head fell back, her eyes half-closed, lost in the moment.

“See,” you murmured, kissing the inside of her thigh, sucking enough to know it’ll leave a mark “you’re already feeling better.”

Paige groaned, her grip on your hair tightening, and you grinned. Even when she was mad or annoyed, she couldn’t hide the way her body reacted to you.

You loved it.

“You can stop being mad at me now,” you teased, pressing soft kisses between her legs, your breath hot against were she needed you the most.

“I wasn’t mad,” she muttered, her voice shaky as your thumb started playing torturously soft with her clit, spreading her folds lightly, but you knew better. She always tried to play tough, but you could read her like a book.

“Mhm, sure,” you hummed, your tongue tracing a slow line along her, feeling her hips jerk in response. You held her down, maintaining control, your hands gripping her thighs with bruising strength as your mouth finally found home on her pussy, licking and sucking like a starved woman.

You sucked and licked her clit before slamming two fingers in her entrance, her grip on your hair tightened at the intrusion.

Her gasps and moans were all you needed to know you were winning. Paige was right on the edge, clenching on your fingers, her body trembling, back arching, hips grinding on you with desperation, breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. When you felt her start to tip over, you pulled back just enough to make her whimper in frustration, she looked down at you with that desperate expression she always had when she wasn’t having what she needed.

“You still mad, babe?” you asked, looking up at her, amusement clear in your voice as you saw the flush on her face, the way she was fighting to keep control.

“Just… shut up,” she breathed, head leaning back to rest on the pillow, too far gone now to care about her earlier mood.

You chuckled but didn’t need to be told twice. You dove back in, this time with no teasing, just pure focus. It only took a few more moments, a few more thrusts with your fingers curled to hit the spot that made her loose her fucking shit, before she was coming undone beneath you, her body tensing, a soft cry of release slipping from her lips.

You slowed down, tracing lazy circles on her clit, easing her through it, kissing her thighs softly as her breathing steadied, her body relaxing completely. After a moment, you crawled back up, kissing her softly, her collarbone, her neck, her jaw, then you kissed her, hands cupping her jaw, her release still present on the taste of your mouth. You pulled back, Paige’s eyes fluttered open, her expression soft, content, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of smug satisfaction.

“Better now?” you asked, your thumb caressing her lower lip softly.

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re an ass.”

You grinned, leaning in to kiss her again. “I know.”

Requests are Open!

Masterlist

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Can I ask what you think would happen if pre-doctor Harley Sawyer had an S/O who has been with him for so long to the point of marriage being the next goal, but some kind of accident happens and they lose their memories of him? I was curious to see what you thought he'd react like, shading this "bond" with someone who worked so hard to gain his trust and love only to forget everything they had with him.

And maybe if you're up for it cause it could mix with the scenario, what's he like as a husband of he for some reason got to that point?

He’s already a man who struggles with trust, with connection, with letting himself have something good. And then to have that ripped away?

Yeah. He wouldn't take it well.

💔 Harley Sawyer & an S/O Who Lost Their Memories 💫

Initial Reaction – Shock, Denial, & a Deep, Ugly Fear

Harley isn’t a man who loves easily. If he got to the point of marriage? That means you had to fight, push, and tear down every wall he built around himself. You were different. You got through to him.

And then, just like that, it’s gone. You don’t know him. You don’t remember him.

At first, he thinks he can handle it. He’s logical, right? He can fix this.

But when he looks at you—when he sees the blank stare, the way you flinch when he reaches for you, the way his name means nothing to you anymore—

That’s when it really hits. That bond you both built, the one thing he let himself trust, it’s shattered.

How He Handles It – Badly, But He Won’t Show It

On the surface? He’s calm. Composed. Maybe even a little cold. He won’t let you see how deep the damage goes.

But behind closed doors? It wrecks him.

He stays up at night, replaying memories that you no longer have.

He clenches his fists hard enough to leave marks, fights the urge to force the memories back—because logic tells him he can’t.

He stares at old pictures, whispers your name like it’s a prayer, like saying it enough times will bring you back.

Would he try to make you remember?

Yes. But not by pushing you. Harley is methodical—he’ll watch, wait, test small things. He’ll see if old habits stick.

He’ll leave your favorite coffee on the table, just to see if you reach for it the way you used to.

He won’t tell you who he is to you. But his actions will.

And if you never remember? If he has to live with the fact that you’ll never look at him the same way again?

He’d rather you be safe, even if it means losing you completely.

Would He Stay? Would He Let Go?

Harley Sawyer does not let go easily.

But he’s also a man who knows what it means to lose everything. And if he thinks staying will hurt you more than it’ll hurt him?

He’d leave. He’d walk away before you could reject him—because that’s a pain he doesn’t think he could survive.

Maybe he disappears from your life entirely, watching from a distance, never interfering.

Or maybe, just maybe—he stays in the background. A shadow of what he used to be to you. Someone important, but no longer in the way he once was.

Harley Sawyer as a Husband – If He Ever Got That Far

"Husband" is just a word. What matters is that you’re mine. And I don’t let go."

He’s not a conventional husband. Marriage isn’t something he dreams about—it’s a risk. A vulnerability.

But if he got there? He’d take it seriously. You would be the only person who’s ever gotten that far, and that means something.

Protective as hell. He doesn’t get jealous, but he does get possessive. The kind where he doesn’t need to say anything—just a look is enough.

Acts of service > words of love. You won’t get flowery speeches, but you’ll find a knife at your bedside if he thinks you need protection. He’ll know you’re stressed before you say anything. He’ll have already handled it.

Physicality matters. He’s not one for PDA, but behind closed doors? His touches are grounding. Steady. Not always gentle, but always intentional.

He’s in it for life. Divorce? Not an option. If you get into a fight? He’s not leaving the house until it’s resolved. If something threatens you? It’s already handled before you even know about it.

What If You Started Falling for Him Again?

Would he let it happen?

At first, he wouldn’t believe it.

But if you started looking at him the way you used to? If your body remembered what your mind forgot—if you reached for him in your sleep, if his voice became a comfort again?

He’d try to stay distant. Try to convince himself it’s not real.

But the moment you tell him, even hesitantly, “I think I love you”—

That’s when he breaks.

That’s when he exhales the breath he’s been holding since he lost you.

And that’s when he finally, finally lets himself believe he hasn’t lost you after all.

[miley1442111]

safe- a.hotchner

--------------

--------------

summary: aaron had to make sure you're safe, can he get to you in time?

pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny! girlfriend! fem! reader

warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive mentions, angsty for a moment (I think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

--------------

Aaron ran through the crowd, the only thing on his mind was you. Were you hurt? Were you dead? Were you even in there? Could he help you? Could he get to you? 

Was he too late?

He could hear Derek shouting for him, pleading with him to slow down. He didn’t understand, none of them would ever understand. You had to be ok. You were his everything. He should’ve never fallen in love with you, it wasn’t right. You were Jack’s nanny. You’d been with them since Haley died. You’d supported them since Haley died. Then you turned into someone whoAaron loved being around, someone he trusted with his son’s life, and his own. Then he waited up for you on his nights off, when you had your nights off. Then you waited for him on late work nights. 

--------------

The door opening startled you, as it always did, but you just glanced to the hall and saw Aaron hanging his coat. 

“Evening,” you called to him. “Or should I say morning?”

He sighed. “Shouldn’t you be out? Isn’t Jack at a sleepover?” He smirked. 

“Not all young people only want to party,” you rolled your eyes, finishing up washing a dish and turning to him. “Hungry?”

“I can’t ask you to make me food-”

The nightly battle of getting him to eat something with nutritious value rather than old cereal while he looked over reports. “Nonsense. I have leftovers from Jack’s dinner, it’ll take me 10 minutes-” 

His hand on your waist stopped you from moving. “You’re here to take care of Jack, not me.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing his hand off. “I know, remembering that would be a lot easier if you could take care of yourself,” you huffed, moving to start cooking something for him. 

He sighed. “Y/n,” he scolded. 

You didn’t answer, and just continued. 

His hands circled your waist and you stilled. You felt his hot breath on your neck, and swallowed as the air became heavier, as the moment held more weight. 

“Aaron,” you whispered, slow and steady as it came out of your mouth. 

“No one ever takes care of you,” he said, a wolf-ish smirk on his face, one that you could definitely get used to. 

“You do,” you shrugged, trying to get back to the task at hand. 

“How? How would you like me to take care of you?” Aaron Hotchner was a man of iron-solid resolve, a man that couldn’t break under too much pressure, that wouldn’t break under too much pressure. But you? You were his undoing, you guided him through everything, knowing he was keeping you and Jack safe everyday made his days less unbearable. 

You chuckled lightly and turned around to face him. Then you pressed your lips to his. 

He could’ve sworn you tasted like heaven. Your hands running through his hair, his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. Nothing could’ve felt better. 

He pulled back and smiled. 

You smiled too. 

--------------

“Hotch!” Derek shouted, finally getting a hand on him. “Jack is out of there, he’s safe!”

Aaron turned to him briefly. “Y/n isn’t out, she’s not here, is she Derek?”

“Who’s Y/n?” He cursed several times under his breath. 

“His girlfriend,” you answered. You were banged up pretty badly, bruises and bleeding and dirt, but you were standing there. In front of him, you were real, you were alive. He opened his arms and you slumped into them. 

“I tried my best to keep Jack out of it, I don’t know where he is, I just told him to run-” you spoke quickly, but he quieted you with a kiss to your head. 

“He’s safe,” he promised. “You're safe too.”

You nodded, and buried your head in the crook of his neck as the team watched on in shock. 

Aaron wasn’t planning on answering any of their questions, all he wanted was to have you and Jack home and safe. Where he could protect you.

--------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[b3ach-bunn7]

SUPER SHY (2/?)

You’re in desperate need of a bassist, and the only person available in the rumoured arsonist at your school.

Highschool!au, no quirks, bassist touya (angst this chapter)

—————————————————————————-

Touya is so distracting.

He’s laying on your bed, bass forgotten and collecting dust on the floor. A game of solitaire is open on his phone (again) and the sound of the cards shuffling are the only thing interrupting the silence that has enveloped the room. He’s not actually talking or saying anything, but just his presence in your room is enough to keep you distracted. The curve of his bicep as he rests his arm behind his head, the white curls of hairs falling into his eyes. You hate with everything in you how attractive he is.

The show is tomorrow night. You and Touya have perfected every song, and all that’s left now is to practise with the band. You figured you’d get in a last minute run-through before the two of you went over, which is why he’s at your house in the first place. That, and you also need to prepare him before he meets the rest of the band.

There’s only three others. Aizawa, Nana, and Ren. You’d all been friends for years, and met at the school's theatre production when you were freshman. You were all bushy-tailed and bright eyed, excited to be involved, also the youngest ones who had tried out for the band. Of course, you all had very minor parts being as young as you were, but it led to a friendship group you’d stuck out with all these years later. You all had similar interest and an undying love for music, and so a band just seemed like the viable next step. You’re sure they’ll all get along well with Touya. 

Ren might be your only issue. 

He’s protective over you. You’re ninety percent sure it’s because he has a little thing for you, if Nana’s constant teasing has any truth to it. That, and you think he and Shigaraki, one of Touya's closest friends, had some sort of trouble last year. But it should be fine. It’ll be fun.

Touya must notice your staring, because his eyes trail over to yours, impossibly blue under impossibly long eyelashes.

“You alright there?”

You roll your eyes at him. “We’re supposed to be practising. The show is tomorrow, you know.”

Touya scoffs. He doesn't move from his position on your bed, eyes still glued to his phone. You grab a pen from your desk and throw it at him.

He grunts. “Stop.”

“You stop playing solitaire and practise.” Your tone is scolding, but your resolve is weak, already breaking.

Touya grins at you behind his phone, lazy and teasing, clearly sensing how easily you’ll be swayed.

“Aw, come on. You know you wanna ditch it too.”

You hum under your breath. You mumble something about a bad influence, but it only takes a few more words for you to get off your desk and clamber onto your bed, sitting beside him. You lean a little closer and watch him as he picks up his phone and resumes the game.

“You can move the five there.” 

He makes a noise in thanks. This close, the smell of his cologne, something woodsy and fresh, infiltrates your nose. He’s wearing only a black vest, a wifebeater as he loves to call it. He always runs hot, you’ve discovered, his blood always burning beneath his veins. Even though it’s only the start of spring, the sun peeking behind the clouds is enough heat for him to walk around half nude. Not that you necessarily mind. 

He’s also comfortable enough to expose his skin to you, scars and all, a fact that leaves a warmth in your chest you can’t explain.

The comfortable atmosphere is broken when you feel him reach into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. You sit up almost immediately and he tenses in preparation.

“No, no, Touya, you are not smoking in my room again!” You snatch them out his hand and he groans.

“Give me my cigarettes back, woman.” You smack his shoulder with them. 

“Don’t call me that. And no, last time you smoked in here, my room stank and my mum thought it was me.” You frown, remembering the argument that had followed.

“It’s fine, I’ll tell her it was me. Your mum loves me.”

Your mum actually does love him. And your dad, surprisingly. You figured it was about time you told them about the boy you’d been hanging out with so much, which led to a very impromptu dinner at yours. He survived it though, through your dads interrogations and your siblings' attempts to piss him off. It helped that he’d come with a fancy bottle of wine he’d taken from his dads place, and a bright smile you rarely seemed to pull out of him.

“Someone has to.”

He sticks his tongue out at you and his piercing glints in the light of your room. 

“Hey, the swellings gone down loads.” 

You’d gone with him to get it done, about a week ago. The place had smelt like disinfectant and the man who’d done the piercing had tattoos all up and down his arms. You’d felt a little nauseous watching the needle go down through his tongue, but he managed it all with only a bored look on his face. 

Touya sticks his tongue out further and you nod. 

“It looks cool.”

“I know. That's why I did it.” He taps the stud against his teeth.

You glance around his face. “You have so many piercings. How do you go through the metal detector at the airport?”

“Bold of you to assume they let me fly.” 

One on his eyebrow, one on his nose. You lose count.

You lean back on the bed and look up at him. “So how many do you have?”

He thinks for a second, before his eyes flit back to you. He fiddles with his eyebrow piercing and you wince as he pulls on it.

“Eight.”

“Okay. Eyebrow. Tongue.”

Your arm reaches up, pausing by his ear. He nods his approval and you brush his hair away from his ears.

“Two on each ear. Nose.”  You pause. “That’s seven. Where’s the last one?”

Touya’s eyes dart down towards his sweatpants. Your eyes follow, confused. He grins, and realisation hits you and your face burns red.

“What- Ew, Touya what the fuck!” You yell, pushing away from him.

His laugh rings out into the room, boisterous and loud. 

“God- I’m just fucking with you, look.” He starts pulling up his shirt and you screech.

“No, don’t get it out, you weirdo!” You cover your eyes but warm hands grip them and pull them down.

“Look, you idiot.” 

You look down quickly. And he has a belly button piercing.

“Oh. Okay. That’s. That’s unexpected, actually.”

He’s still holding your hands and his palms are soft against your wrists.

“Looks cool, though.” You clear your throat, sliding your arms back in your lap.

“I always look cool.” He pulls his shirt back down and you slightly mourn the free glimpse of his defined stomach.

“You’re so cringe. Who calls themself cool?” 

You lay back down and pluck his phone out his hand. You return to his game of solitaire, and he watches from your side, silently. A breeze flows in from your open window and Touya nudges your arm. 

“You should get a piercing.”

You make a noncommittal noise, eyes focused on the screen. You’re close to winning, if you could only get a red four.

“Mom would kill me.”

“You’d look hot, though.”

That is enough to get your attention. You click his phone shut and sit up, crossing your legs.

“You think so?”

He hums under his breath. He’s half upright against your pillows, and you have to actively look away before your mind wanders. 

“Yeah. Maybe, like.” He reached forward, and his thumb brushed against your top lip. “Here.”

The air in the room shifts as suddenly as he moves. You feel your face heat, and you nod slightly. 

“You think so?”

Your voice sounds a bit breathless and you’re embarrassed. He’s barely even touched you and you’re already acting up. 

“I do think so.” His voice has dropped an octave, and you know what he’s doing.

You’ve been hanging out with Touya almost everyday for the last two weeks, and the more you see him the more the little crush you’ve been developing grows. Can you be blamed? He’s attractive, he’s smart. He’s good with kids, too. You’ve seen Touya with his siblings, and despite how much he acts like he hates being an older brother, he loves spending time with them. And the way he takes care of his mother? You’re only human. 

“Well. Maybe.” You grab your phone out of your pocket and flip the camera on. Your finger trails over where his just did, and you try to envision yourself with a hoop around your lip. 

Touya sits up and scoots over to you slightly until he’s cross legged as well. Even sitting down he looms over you. He scratches his cheek absentmindedly, still staring at your face, eyes flitting between your features. You laugh, only a little nervous.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.”

Touya’s lip twitches into a smile. “I’m observing. What would suit you.” 

“Everything would suit me, I’m beautiful.” You joke.

Touya hums. “You are.”

You eye him suspiciously. “You’re being awfully nice today.”

“Sorry. You’re really fucking ugly.”

You snort a laugh. “Okay, okay. Enough about my beauty. We need to mentally prepare.”

“To meet your friends?”

You nod seriously. He fixes you with a quizzical look.

“It’s really not that serious.”

“It is.” You frown. “I want my friends to like you.”

Touya smiles a little. His hands are fiddling with the edge of the long joggers you have on. “And why’s that?”

“Because. They’re important to me, and I like you, so-“

“You like me?” He teases and you brush him off, ignoring the flutter in your chest.

“Not like that, you narcissist.”

“Right.”

You quickly take your phone out, pulling up Instagram. You open Nana’s page first. She is not shy to post, her page full of selfies and photo dumps, stacked up with highlights and a thousand followers. You find a picture of her and show Touya.

“This is Nana. She plays keys, and she’s also my best friend.” You say.

He nods, swiping through the post you pulled up. “She’s cute.”

You’re making a face before you know it, and you quickly try to fix it before he notices. He does, of course. He never misses anything.

“She is. Yes.” You take the phone back, finding another page.

“This is Ren.”

Ren’s page is much like Nana’s, if a little more refined. His page is all shirtless selfies and pictures of his car. His following count is also quite high, full of practically every girl at your school.

“This is Ren. He plays drums.”

Touya sighs. “Him.”

“You know Ren?”

Touya bites his bottom lip, thinking. “Well. Kind of. Shiggy and him got into some shit last year, so we all don’t like him.”

You feel a little panicked at that. “But- But you’re all supposed to be friends. You can’t not like him. And he-“

“Chill out, Y/N.” He says softly. “It’ll be fine. As long as he doesn’t piss me off.”

You decide to ignore that to save yourself the stress. You don’t bother to try to find Aizawa’s page, because it’s barren. He has about fifteen followers, and no profile picture and no posts. You think the only reason he has an account is so that he can look at videos of cats.

You have pictures of him in your camera roll, though. It takes a few seconds, but you find a cute one of the two of you, and show Touya.

“Oh, that’s Aizawa, right?” 

“Yeah. You have problems with him, too?”

Touya snorts. “No. He’s in my Biology class. Quiet guy.”

“Mhm. He’s really good at guitar.” You add, clicking your phone off. 

Touya holds up a thumbs up. “I think I’m ready.”

You check the time, and wince a little. You should probably get going if you want to make it to Aizawa’s in time. You get up, walking to your closet to dig for some clothes to wear.

“We have to leave soon if we want to get there in time.” 

You pull out the first shirt and pair of jeans your hands touch. You signal for Touya to turn around so you can get changed and he dutifully does. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a pack of mentos.

He pops one in his mouth.“Excited for tomorrow?” 

You hum under your breath, fingers fumbling with the button of your jeans. You pull your hair out from inside your shirt. “Yeah. Nervous, too.”

The sun is starting to set outside, and it casts pink and orange light into your room. The pretty view outside only reminds you how late you’re going to be, and you start fixing your hair with more fevour. Touya takes all the cluttering around your desk as a sign you're done, and turns back around.

“Hey.”

You jump a little, startled, and the hair tie in your hair falls to the floor. You huff, shooting Touya a look. “What?”

“That’s my shirt, you thief.” He exclaims.

Upon inspection, it actually is Touya’s shirt. He’d left it here after he’d spilt something on it and you promised to wash and return it. The washing part happened, but the returning not as much

You smile sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry! I just grabbed the first thing I saw.”

It’s a nice top, to be fair. One of the faded band shirts he seems to have a never ending supply of. It’s oversized on his tall frame, so it fits you perfectly. Touya narrows his eyes at you, but there’s no anger behind it.

“Since I’m so generous and kind I’ll let you wear it.”

“I would’ve anyway.”

The car drive is short, even including the argument over who would have control of the aux. Your guitar is hanging heavy on your back and Touya’s bass in his. You knock four times on the garage door, stepping back so that it can creak open slowly. 

Aizawa’s garage had been a tenth grade summer project for all of you. You’d needed a place to rehearse for the new band you were all starting, and Aizawa’s relatively empty garage seemed to be the perfect place to do so. You’d painted and spackled the holes in the walls, watched as his dad put in new carpet for you guys. Ren had figured out how to soundproof the walls so his parents wouldn’t be too bugged, and four chairs and a thrift store table later, it was ready. It became more than just a rehearsal spot, though. It’s where you guys hang out whenever you have the time, for Halloween pumpkin carving or Christmas movie marathons. 

“Hello, guys, sorry we’re late.” You apologise, walking in.

You drop your guitar, immediately tackling Nana, who’s sipping on brightly coloured bubble tea, in a hug. With your arms around her, you turn both of you to point at Touya

“This is Touya, our emergency bassist and saviour.” You say. 

Nana unhooks you off her, making an irritated noise as you grab her drink and take a sip. “Nice to meet you, saviour Touya.” 

“Likewise.”

Aizawa only nods in greeting. He’s wearing big headphones he’s got plugged into his guitar, and his hair is tied up and in a bun behind his head. He looks focused, and everyone has the right mind to leave him be. He gets like this usually, laser focused on practising a riff or learning the hook of a song.

Ren doesn’t look too happy. He’s lounging back on one of the old chairs, manspreading if you’re being specific, eyes trained on his phone. He’s trying hard to look unbothered, but you’ve known him long enough to know he is very aware of Touya’s presence.

“Hey.” That’s all he can manage to say. 

Touya smiles sweetly, and it’s a sight that makes you a little uneasy. 

“Nice to see you too, Kimura.”

“Fuck off, Todoroki.”

You feel the tension rise the second Touya’s surname leaves his lips. Nana raises an eyebrow and you quickly rise to your feet, desperate to diffuse the tension until it starts.

“Okay, okay. Let’s put our dicks away, boys.” You laugh nervously. You turn to Touya. “You want something to drink?”

Touya sits on one of the chairs next to Nana, nodding at you. There’s a weird display of masculinity going on right now. You think it’s best to just ignore it. You kneel in front of the mini fridge, and grab a can of coke. You don’t need to ask him what he wants because you already know.

“Thanks.” He says, and the annoyance on his face melts a little as his eyes dart to yours.

“No problem. We'll start rehearsing once Aizawa’s out of the zone.”

Touya nods, slipping on his own headphones. The second he’s got his music loud enough for you to hear it seeping out, Nana stands to sit besides you on the floor.

“Oh my god. Is he hot or what?” She whispers and you snort a laugh.

“He’s my friend.”

“Yeah, right. I need that, girl.” She grins, clutching your arm.

You know Touya isn’t her type. She’s just trying to rile you up, and unfortunately, it’s sort of working. You brush her off, but you can feel the heat creeping onto your face. She making some questionable noises at you and you frown at her.

“He’s literally like, two feet away from us, shut up.” You hiss, elbow digging into her side. 

Nana rolls her eyes, taking her drink back from you. “Girl, I can hear his music playing from all the way here. I don’t think he can hear us.” 

“True.”

Nana grins. “So. Have you guys fucked yet?”

“Nana!”

Her peals of laughter don’t go unheard, and neither do her words. You catch Ren’s eye, and then the way they flicker to Touya for a split second, before back to you. 

“Alright, I’m ready.” Aizawa suddenly speaks up, pushing the headphones off his head.

Everyone rises to their feet, slowly but surely. You’re about to start when you realise you’ve forgotten something pretty important.

“Oh, shit. We left the amps in the car.” You mumble.

Touya fishes the car keys out his pocket. “Come, let’s get them.”

You ignore Nana’s pinch to your side and follow him out. You wait until you're both out of earshot, the back door of the car covering you from sight, before you build up the courage to speak. Touya’s trying to untangle the wires from beneath the old blankets you keep in the trunk, and you tug his sleeve.

“Look, I know Ren is- He’s sort of, you know, stirring the pot.” You explain. “He’s just-“

“He’s got a thing for you, right?” Touya interrupts, finally tugging the wire out.

You stammer. “A thing?”

“A crush, a thing, whatever you want to call it.”

“You think?”

Touya hands you an amp, plucking the keys out of your hand so that he can lock the car. 

“Oh, yeah. And he thinks we’re hooking up.” 

You blink, a little caught off guard. His hand gently pushes you out the way so he can shut the door. 

“I- He does?”

Touya just nods. “Look, I know from his shit with Shiggy and just him as a person that he’s fucking annoying.” 

This is the last thing you need. This was your first proper show, unless you counted the times you’d played at proms at school. But those were free gigs and about an hour long. This was at a proper venue, and you were actually getting real money for it. And this weird little thing between Ren and Touya is not about to ruin it for you.

He must notice the dejected look on your face, because he coos. “Aw, don’t pout, doll. I promise I’ll be nice.”

You think your brain short-circuits a little at the nickname, swallowing roughly as he starts walking back, oblivious to the effect his words have on you. You follow behind him, a little lost, and Nana notices the slight blush on your face, narrowing her eyes at you.

“The fuck did you two get up to out there?” She whispers and you shove her shoulder to shut her up.

You all busy yourselves with plugging in your instruments, tuning them. You clear your throat, humming to warm up your voice. 

“Okay, what song shall we do first?” You ask.

“Should we do that Paramore one? I keep fucking up the guitar on it.” Aizawa frowns, plucking at his guitar.

For someone who hasn’t practised with the others, Touya does well. Really well, actually, easily playing alongside you all like he’s been doing it his whole life. All the songs run smoothly, and by the end, your nerves over this whole ordeal have diminished. You guys sound great, and if you can pull this off at the show tomorrow you’re set. You clap your hands together.

“Oh my god, we sound great!” You grin, and Nana nods.

“We actually do. You did really well for your first time playing with us, Touya.” She says, and Aizawa hums in agreement.

Touya only shrugs. “Had a pretty good teacher.”

Ren scoffs behind you, and you turn around to see him standing up and shoving his drumsticks in his pockets.

“He plays like, the same three notes per song. You can call stop sucking his dick.” He mutters, sauntering over to the fridge.

Touya’s brows crease, but he just chooses to ignore him. He turns to Aizawa, holding up a pack of cigarettes you thought you’d successfully hidden in your room.

“Can I smoke in here?”

“If you give me one, yeah.” 

Touya snorts a laugh and you scowl at the two of them. They go sit by the open door of the garage, and the wind blows the smoke up and out. The sky is cloudy with the threat of rain, but it’s still warm, warm enough that you can all survive with the door wide open.

“You guys are gross.” You say, and Aizawa waves you off.

“Yeah, literally.” Nana says weakly, already digging in her pocket for her vape. 

You push her away from you, narrowly avoiding the puff of strawberry scented smoke that envelops the two of you. “Ew, blow it away from me!”

“But it smells good! Strawberry ice, girl.” She wiggles it in your face.

You get up, mumbling about lung cancer and early death. Ren takes your seat next to her, grabbing the vape out her hand. You sit as far as possible from all the carcinogens, allowing your disapproval for it all to sit clearly on your face. 

“Come on, Ren, be a real man and smoke a cigarette.” Aizawa drawls, waving it in a way you think is supposed to be enticing.

Touya smirks, blue eyes glinting in the dim lighting of the garage. Ren catches the smirk and sends him a thunderous look, almost throwing the vape back at Nana.

“Fuck off. At least vaping is healthier.”

“They’re both unhealthy!” You exclaim, and Ren sends you a cheeky grin.

“Aw, don’t worry about me, babe. I’ll be okay.”

You smile faintly, a little bugged by being called babe, but you think it’s better for everyone if you just let that slide. 

“I’m worried about all of you.” You huff.

Nana’s hand clutches her heart. “You’re so sweet. Don’t worry, I’m cutting back. One a week.”

Aizawa points the cigarette at her. “Good. And I only have a couple of these a week myself.”

Touya doesn’t say anything and you narrow your eyes at him. “Yeah, he is not cutting back. He smokes like, a pack a day.”

Touya smiles brightly at you and you can’t help but let your own slip onto your face. “My lungs are indestructible, babe.”

Everyone in the room catches the little dig at Ren. 

“So. How’s everyone getting there tomorrow?” Nana speaks up in an attempt to change the subject.

Aizawa is driving himself and Nana, and Ren is coming in his own car.

“Im picking up Y/N.” Touya adds. Aizawa hands him an ashtray to throw the end of his cigarette in. 

“Okay, perfect. They said we need to be there at six forty five, so they can get us set up.” 

Nana bites at her bottom lip, quickly reading the email the venue had sent you guys. You were one of three bands playing, and since you were on first, you felt that much more pressure to do well. You set the mood for the night, after all, and the band the place liked the most would definitely be favoured for gigs in the future.

Nana was your impromptu manager, dealing with the schematics and informational part of everything. She nods her head, shutting off her phone and tossing it on the table in front of her.

“Don’t think there’s anything else we need to know. Just have to do better than everyone else performing.” She winks.

Ren is scrolling on tik tok beside her. Aizawa gets up and throws himself on a beanbag you’d bought him on his birthday, and Touya comes to sit beside you. The chairs are small and far too close, and so his thigh brushes against yours. 

He perks up beside you. “Oh yeah, I was going to ask. Is it like a ticket thing? Or can anyone come?”

“Tickets. It’s at a bar, but the concert part is money.” Nana explains. “I think they’re like, five dollars?”

“Cool.”

He starts texting and you peer over his shoulder. “I’m being nosy, by the way.”

“Yeah, nothing new there.” 

You nudge his shoulder and he laughs a little. “I’m texting Toga. She said she and the others wanna come watch.”

“Aw, really? I miss them.”

Touya makes a face. “Gross. Maybe I won’t invite them, then.”

“Invite who?” 

It’s Ren asking, funnily enough. His phone plays the same video on loop, but his eyes are trained on you and Touya. 

“My friends.”

“What friends?”

Touya furrows his brows. “That any of your business?”

“It is when all your friends are crackheads and criminals.”

Nana’s mouth drops open, and Touya sits up a little. His jaw clenches and it’s as angry as you’ve ever seen him. The careful way he’s looking at Ren is foreign to you, and it makes you a little nervous.

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, dangerous, and you feel a desperate urge to diffuse this situation before it gets worse.

“Okay, guys, let’s-“

“I said I don’t want any of the drugged up freaks you call friends at the gig tomorrow.” Ren snarls.

“The fuck is your problem?” 

“My problem is-“

“Okay!” You yell.

This is pissing you off, if you’re being honest. Ren is pissing you off. You’re adults, for god sake, can’t he just act like one for once? All this over some stupid drama from years ago. You fix him with a stare. 

“Can I talk to you, please?” Your polite words are paired with a tone so annoyed that he doesn’t try to argue, stomping off into the house.

You follow after him quickly. You all know your way around Aizawa’s place like it’s your own, so Ren has no trouble finding the fridge and yanking it open with a little more aggression than necessary. He grabs a can of coke, cracking it open. You watch it fizz over his fingers as he takes a long sip of it. You cross your arms. You feel sort of like a teacher right now, scolding a student who won’t stop misbehaving.

“Ren, what is going on with you today?” 

“Me?” He laughs sarcastically, can clinking against the table. “What’s going on with you?”

He must sense the confusion radiating off you, because he shakes his head, exasperated.

“First of all, you didn’t even ask me if you could invite him to the band.”

“I didn’t know I had to run shit by you.” You snap, but Ren rambles on.

“And he was just supposed to play bass for us! You’re not supposed to be friends with him!”

He looks so frustrated, running a hand through his black hair, that it only begins to make irritation trickle beneath your veins.

“And who the fuck are you to tell me who I’m supposed to be friends with?”

“I’m not-“

“But you are. You didn’t even give him a chance, Ren, you just started being a dick from the jump!”

Ren stammers. “I- I just don’t think he’s the best person to hang out with.”

“Why the hell not?”

“He’s bad news, Y/n!” He says. “I mean, you’ve heard the rumours, I know you have. He’s got a criminal record, too, and he fucking burnt down his own house!”

Those are all rumours. You’re sure of it. Touya wouldn’t do something like that. 

“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about him!”

“Y/N-”

“No.” You cut him off and his mouth snaps shut. “You can’t hate him before you give him a chance. Even if you got into shit with his friend, because funnily enough, they’re two different people!”

Ren falters a little. He rubs his eyes, shrugging. “I- I’m sorry, i just. I’m just worried about you.”

You sigh. “Touya is not some super villain. I- I don’t need you to worry for me. I'm not stupid.”

“I know. But you’re my best friend.” 

You know he’s just trying to make you forgive him by being all nice. You hate that it’s actually sort of working. If not for his sweet talk, you can see the words sinking in, see the guilt etched on his features. 

Ren is a hothead, but he isn’t an idiot. One of the things you like about him is that he’s never too ashamed to admit when he’s in the wrong, despite how angry and in the right he seems to act like he is. 

He pulls off the tab of his coke can, fiddling with it idly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been such a dick to him.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.”

He frowns a little. “I’m trying to apologise, you know.”

“You should be apologising to Touya.”

“I will, I will.”

He holds out the tab to you. It’s a stupid tradition, one that has been going on for years. You give him your bottle caps and he gives you his soda tabs. It’s not tradition now, but a peace offering. You smile despite yourself, grabbing it from his hand.

Ren grins. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.”

“Don’t push it.”

Ren does in fact apologise. Its stilted words and a weird dap up you think means Ren is forgiven. You don’t really understand men. You and Touya decide to take your leave soon after that. He waits patiently as you hug everyone goodbye, before you both get in the car and start driving home.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t stop thinking about what Ren had said.

It’s not that you don’t trust Touya, or that you’re scared of him. You just wonder if there’s any truth to all of it. The criminal record, the whole house rumour. You’ve heard it before of course. It was all anyone could talk about when Touya had arrived at school with burn scars all over his body, face even more thunderous than usual. You hadn’t cared though, because you hadn’t know him. But now? You’re friends, maybe something more, and you do care. 

You don’t know how you’d feel if it’s true. Would it change how you saw him? How you felt about him?

Touya senses your silence besides him. No music plays on the radio, just the low hum of the car driving down the silent roads. You pull up to his house, but when you turn off the ignition, he doesn’t move, and neither do you.

“So. What did he say to you?” Touya speaks.

He’s tense. He’s not looking at you, but instead out his window, his leg jogging up and down.

“Nothing, he just. You know.” You mumble.

“Y/N.” Touya speaks so sternly. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“He said that he was worried about our friendship. Because you have a criminal record, and. You burnt down your house. Apparently.” You say softly.

The words feel stupid as you speak them, and you can feel the atmosphere in the car get heavier. You steal a look at him and he’s nodding slowly, avoiding your gaze completely.

“Right.”

It’s evening now, the sun set, late enough that even the street lamps aren’t on. You’re both sitting in the dark, only the sounds of your breathing cutting through the silence. It’s quiet for about thirty more seconds before Touya speaks up.

“My dad used to hit us.”

He speaks quickly, like he needs to get the words out before he loses the courage. You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing, ignoring the sinking feeling in your chest.

“Not the others. Mainly just me and mom. But fuck, if he didn’t used to beat the shit out of me.” He laughs, but there is no mirth in it, just a bitterness that makes you shiver.

Touya turns to you. He lifts up his shirt, and by his ribs, there's a long jagged scar, stretching a few inches over his stomach. “He knocked me into a glass table. Twenty stitches.”

He still won’t look at you, eyes darting to your hand tight on the steering wheel, his lap. He licks at his lips.

“I was an angry kid. I was just so fucking angry all the time.” He swallows. “So yeah, I drank and I smoked. I stole and did illegal shit and I do have a criminal record. I did shit I’m not proud of and shit I wouldn't do now.”

He runs a hand through his hair. It’s not the first time and it stands on end, messy and tangled. 

“Your dad always seemed like kind of a prick.” You mumble. 

Touya huffs a laugh. “Yeah. You have a good eye.”  He leans his head back on the chair.

“The house wasn’t me.”

You feel yourself let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You knew he’d never do something like that, but it was a relief to hear it from him nonetheless.

“It was a faulty gas line. I’d- I’d never put the others in danger. Never. The reason my skin is as fucked as it is is because I went back in, not because I started it..”

You look at him, confused. “You went back in?”

“Shoto. He was- He was in there. Parents weren’t home, and it was just us kids. The rest of us got out but. Fucking- Couldn’t reach the door handle. The firefighters weren’t there yet, so-“

“You went back in.” You almost whisper the words, scared he’ll catch the emotion cracking your voice.

Touya was fourteen when it happened. And you can’t even imagine having to run into a burning building now, as an adult. You picture a rosy cheeked Touya, coughing through smoke, fighting through the heat and the flames licking his skin all to save his baby brother.

“Oh, Touya.” 

He finally does look at you then, and his face twists at the emotion clouding yours. He smiles weakly, the corners of his lips only just tugging up. Touya reaches forward and grabs your hand in his.

“Don’t look so sad.”

“You- Oh, god. I’m going to kill Ren.”

He just shrugs. “He’s not the first to think like that. And he won’t be the last.”

You feel like shit. For him, and for the shitty circumstances he’d been dealt. The fact that, even four years later, he was still suffering consequences for something that wasn’t even his fault. And he’s not wrong. You’d thought those things of him, what felt like a million years ago. But that doesn’t make it okay. You tell him as much, and he softens a little.

“Don’t worry about it, doll. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” He teases.

His hands are calloused. You run your fingers over the scarred tissue on his palm, the wrinkles on his fingertips. “This doll business is new.”

He’s watching you closely, watching your fingers trails over him delicately. “You don’t like it?”

“I never said that.”

You sigh. “I’m sorry about Ren. He- He means well. Just struggle with his delivery, that's all.”

“Yeah, trust me, I did not feel threatened by him.”

You giggle, despite yourself. “Alright, not too much. He’s my friend.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You wait a beat. “Thank you for telling me.” 

He only nods. “S’fine. Don’t get all sappy on me now.”

Your mouth drops open. “Well, excuse me for trying to be heartfelt.”

“It’s fucking cringey.”

“Get out my car.”

—————————————————————————-

hey... im back with a pt 2.. yes guys there is angst and NO im not sorry for it

i love touya and i love highschool version.... plz enjoy my lovelies

[lovedbysolaris]

Through Ash and Iron (4)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: Yall are going to HATE me but-

___________________________

The bar on the outskirts of the undercity is a rundown, dimly lit place, its flickering neon signs barely cutting through the darkness. You slouch in a corner booth, a glass of whiskey in your hand, swirling the amber liquid as you try to drown the noise in your mind. It’s not working, but you’re trying. Each gulp, each burn, you hope it’ll make the ache inside you go away, even just for a moment.

You drink until the room blurs, but it doesn’t change anything. Nothing can change the emptiness. Nothing can take away the weight of betrayal that you’ve been carrying. Caitlyn’s face flashes in your mind, sharp and unyielding. She was right. She was always right, and you were wrong. You can’t even figure out who you are anymore.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you catch a familiar silhouette, a shape you know too well.

Lest slides into the seat beside you like she owns it, her presence undeniable. She’s sharp, sly, with an elegance that betrays her dangerous side. Her raven-black hair is tied back loosely, a few stray strands framing her face, revealing the thin scars that run along her jaw, a reminder of her past battles. Her eyes are calculating, fox-like, with a sharp glint as she watches you with a knowing smile. The way she moves is liquid, smooth, and predatory, like she’s always two steps ahead. She wears dark leather, adorned with subtle details—a vest, gloves, a belt full of tools—and it all just seems to fit her perfectly, as if she was crafted for this life.

“Rough night?” Her voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, as if she’s already figured you out. She leans in just a bit too close, the warmth of her body seeping into your space. Her fingers brush against your shoulders, her touch light but somehow full of intent.

You can’t muster the energy to shove her away. Instead, you take a long sip from your glass, letting the alcohol numb your senses. “You could say that.”

Lest grins, her eyes tracing you like she’s reading the pages of a book. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot to say, but I don’t think you want to talk about it. That’s why you’re here, after all.”

You don’t answer, your gaze fixed on the table in front of you. There’s something about the way she speaks that makes you want to listen, even if you don’t want to hear what she’s saying.

“I can help you,” she says softly, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “You just have to ask.”

You scoff, but her words still stick to you, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. It’s been a long time since someone offered to help you without asking for something in return.

She senses the shift, the crack in your armor. “You need something. I can see it in your eyes. And I can give you what you’re looking for.” Her voice is almost a whisper now, seductive, coaxing.

Your heart is pounding, but you’re unsure if it’s from the alcohol or the way she’s reading you so easily. She places a hand on your leg, close to your knee, her fingers lightly brushing against your skin, sending an electric pulse through your body. “Just say the word.”

Then the voices start. Jinx’s voice—familiar, filled with that chaotic edge—pierces through the fog in your mind.

“Don’t listen to her,” Jinx warns, though it’s almost a whisper. “You don’t need this. It’s not worth it.”

Then Caitlyn’s voice joins in, sharper, colder. “You’ll never be enough.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block them out, but they persist, a clashing storm in your head.

Lest notices your discomfort, and her smirk only widens, sensing the conflict within you. “You’ve got a war going on in that pretty head of yours, don’t you? Too many voices, too many decisions. I can help with that too, you know.”

You try to focus, to push her away, but the voices keep cutting in, making your chest tight. You’re torn between the temptation to listen to Lest and the fear of what it might mean for you.

Then she pulls out a small brush, the tip glowing faintly with shimmer, and holds it up between you. “You could use something to calm those voices down. Just a little… release. It’ll make everything easier.”

Your stomach twists, a familiar, dark pull tempting you to take it. But then Jinx’s voice rises again.

“Don’t you dare.”

And Caitlyn’s voice cuts through, “You’ll never be enough. You’ll just make it worse.”

You slam your glass down on the table with a sharp crack, your head pounding. “No,” you say, your voice hoarse, a little too loud in the quiet bar. “I’m not doing that.”

Lest watches you for a long moment, her eyes cold and calculating, then slides the shimmer brush back into her coat. “Your loss.”

You stumble to your feet, disoriented by the alcohol and the flood of voices. You push through the door and step out into the cool night, feeling the weight of Lest’s gaze on your back.

But just as you turn the corner, you’re met by a familiar face, one that you didn’t expect to see tonight.

Jinx.

Her eyes are wide, scanning over you, her face a mix of confusion and concern. The moment she spots you, she storms forward, her voice rising. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, trying to stumble away, but she grabs your arm with surprising strength. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Jinx snaps, her voice rising with frustration. “You’ve been out here getting shitfaced and talking to her?”

Lest, still lingering in the shadows, watches with amusement, but doesn’t make a move.

Jinx drags you back toward her lair, her grip tight but not unkind, as she leads you up to the rooftop. She slams you down onto a crate, spinning to face you with that fire in her eyes. “You were going to… with her?” she demands, her voice tight with anger.

“No,” you protest weakly, shaking your head. “I didn’t… I didn’t want that.”

Jinx glares at you, her eyes narrowing. “Then what the hell were you doing?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, feeling the alcohol dragging you down. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I can’t… I can’t think straight.”

Jinx’s expression softens for a moment, but then she snaps. “Get it together. You can’t just—”

You lash out, your voice sharp and filled with pain. “I don’t know who I am anymore! I don’t know what I’m supposed to be!”

She freezes, her anger faltering. “What are you talking about?”

You shake your head, blinking back the tears that are threatening to fall. “I’m not enough for anyone, Jinx. Not for you, not for Cai— not for anyone.”

For a long time, she just stands there, silent, watching you with an unreadable look in her eyes.

“Stop,” she finally says, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re not alone, okay?”

You don’t say anything back. Instead, you curl up against the wall, wrapping your arms around your knees. You feel like you’re suffocating, and yet the distance between you and Jinx feels insurmountable.

Finally, she turns and walks back inside, leaving you alone in the cold night, the voices still swirling in your mind, battling with each other.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Inside, Jinx stands in the dark, her mind racing. The voices speak again, louder than before, but she doesn’t listen.

That small voice, the one that had always been there but never fully heard, finally rises above the chaos.

She’s the one. The one you need. The one you’ve always needed.

Jinx sat in her lair, pacing back and forth, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. The voices in her head grew louder with each passing second, each one demanding her attention, but there was that one small voice that she couldn’t ignore. It had been quiet for so long, but tonight, it felt insistent, urgent.

Go to her. She needs you. She’s the one who sees you. She’s the one who’ll understand.

Her heart raced, and her breath quickened. The words echoed in her mind, undeniable, undeniable. Jinx could feel it now—the pull. That same feeling she had tried to push away for so long. But it was there, undeniable.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shut out the rest of the voices that screamed at her to stop, but the quiet one only grew stronger.

She’s the one. You know it. You feel it.

Her heart thudded in her chest, a frantic pace. She didn’t understand it, but she couldn’t deny it. The tug was undeniable, and without thinking, her feet moved. She ran out of the lair, her feet pounding against the cold stone floor as she made her way out of the building. The further she went, the stronger the pull became. The voice was louder now, almost guiding her, telling her that she had to go to you.

She rushed up the fire escape, every step an impulse she couldn’t ignore, her mind both frantic and clear at the same time. She was done fighting it.

When she reached the rooftop, she stopped for a moment, scanning the empty night for you. And there you were—standing on the edge of the building, as though you had been waiting for her. Your figure was silhouetted against the dim glow of the city lights, and in that moment, it felt like everything aligned.

She moved toward you, her heart in her throat. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. But when you looked up, your eyes met hers, and she could see the confusion, the turmoil, but also the longing, the unspoken desire to be understood.

You hesitated before speaking, your voice unsteady. “Jinx, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” she cut you off, her voice soft but firm. She didn’t want any apologies. Not now. Not when her heart was saying something else.

You tried again, your words spilling out in a rush. “I’ve been thinking about you. About how you make me feel. I—I want to help you. I want to be by your side. I—I want to be there for you, like you’ve been there for me.”

Jinx’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected this. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. She felt a tightness in her chest, and suddenly, all the voices in her head grew quiet, like they knew this moment mattered. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew. She knew it was real.

Before she could think, before she could second-guess herself, her hand shot out, grabbing the collar of your shirt and pulling you toward her. The kiss was sudden, electric, as though she had been waiting for this moment. The world around her seemed to fall away. There was no city, no voices, no fears. There was only you. And for the first time in a long time, it felt right.

You kissed her back, surprising her with the intensity of it, your arms wrapping around her waist as if you couldn’t get close enough. She felt you, the warmth of your body, the strength, the tenderness. It was all there, everything that had been left unspoken, everything that had been building for so long.

Her heart raced, her breath quickening, but the voices—they were silent. For the first time in forever, the voices in her head fell away, and there was only the feeling of you, of the kiss, of connection. The night air didn’t matter, the sounds of the city didn’t matter. There was only the two of you, only the space between your lips, the energy that passed between you.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads touched, both of you breathless. It was as if the world had slowed, and in the quiet aftermath, you could both hear the sound of your hearts pounding in your chests. But then, as you stood there, still reeling from the intensity of the moment, you heard a voice. Faint, but sharp.

Caitlyn…

The voice, so quiet in the back of your mind, sent a jolt of panic through you. Your chest tightened, and you pulled away from Jinx just slightly, frowning. The guilt washed over you like a wave.

“I’m sorry, Jinx. I shouldn’t have—” you muttered, your voice full of regret. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

Jinx’s eyes flickered with confusion, but she didn’t interrupt you. She simply looked at you, as if waiting for you to explain. But before you could say anything more, a sound from the door caught both of your attention.

The door to the rooftop creaked open, the sound of footsteps echoing in the quiet night. Both of you turned in unison, only to see Isha standing in the doorway, her expression confused. Isha didn’t speak—but the way she looked at both of you said enough.

“I’m sorry,” Isha’s quiet presence seemed to say, even though she hadn’t uttered a word. She turned to leave, but you couldn’t help but feel like the moment had shifted. You turned to Isha, guiding her away from the rooftop with a heavy heart.

Jinx stayed silent, her gaze lingering on you both, a mix of emotions playing across her face. But as you walked toward the fire escape, you could feel the weight of the moment hanging between you and her.

Once you reached the ground, you turned to Isha, helping her along as you both walked toward the fort where you had gathered your things. Jinx didn’t follow immediately, but you could feel her eyes on you as you went.

In her lair, the voices returned, their noise swirling inside her head. But this time, one voice stood out—a quiet, insistent whisper.

She’s the one, it said, gentle but certain. She’s the one you’ve been waiting for.

Jinx didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Caitlyn sat in her office, the silence of the room only broken by the soft rustle of paperwork as she carefully went over the latest reports. Her mind was still reeling from the events at the rally, from the confrontation with you, and the undeniable pull she had felt toward you. She couldn’t understand it, but she couldn’t ignore it either. Yet, as much as she tried to focus on her work, a nagging feeling in her chest wouldn’t let her go. 

The sound of the door opening interrupted her thoughts, and Caitlyn looked up to see Ambessa and Rictus entering. Both had their usual authoritative air, their presence commanding. Caitlyn, though still in her own whirlwind, nodded, signaling them to speak. 

“We have some information,” Ambessa said smoothly, her voice calm but with a cold edge. “It’s about the weapon used in the attack on the tower. We’ve been digging into the details and… we found something.” She paused for a moment, as if testing Caitlyn’s reaction.

Rictus stepped forward, his tall frame blocking the light from the door as he gave a sharp smile. “We traced the components of that weapon. Some of the materials, designs… They were linked to someone in Piltover. Someone who’s been making weapons for Jinx.” His eyes flickered toward Caitlyn, watching her closely.

The words hit Caitlyn like a punch to the gut. She felt a chill run down her spine. She hadn’t heard this before, but her mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario. Could it be true?

“Who are you talking about?” Caitlyn’s voice was tight, a creeping anxiety starting to form in her chest.

“Your little friend,” Ambessa continued with an eerie calm, her eyes locking with Caitlyn’s. “The one you’ve been so determined to find. It appears this person has been working closely with Jinx. The weapon that killed your mother… part of it was constructed using designs that belong to them.” Ambessa’s words hung heavy in the air, each syllable dripping with implication.

Rictus chimed in, his tone darker. “That’s right. We’ve traced the connections. The same person who’s been working with Jinx is the one responsible for the device. We have the proof. You were too trusting, Caitlyn. They were hiding in plain sight.”

Caitlyn felt her stomach drop. The shock hit her all at once, as if the ground beneath her feet was slipping away. She was frozen for a moment, her mind racing. You—could you really be involved in this? Was everything she had seen in you just a lie? Her chest tightened, anger building up, twisting in her gut.

“No…” Caitlyn muttered under her breath. Her fingers gripped the edge of her desk, her knuckles white. “You’re lying.” She barely managed to whisper it, as if trying to convince herself more than them.

Ambessa smirked, leaning forward. “We don’t lie, Caitlyn. We’re not the ones who were hiding in plain sight, now are we?”

“But she—” Caitlyn cut herself off, the realization beginning to hit her. She had trusted you. She had let you into her life, into her heart, even if she couldn’t fully admit it. And now, this—this betrayal. Her heart burned with the sting of it.

Rictus stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “You see, Caitlyn, Jinx has been using her. She’s been building weapons for them—for Jinx. And now, thanks to this,” he said, tossing a folder onto the desk, “we have the evidence. She was working directly with them to help them attack Piltover. She is a traitor.”

The word hit Caitlyn like a slap across the face. “No,” she said, her voice trembling with anger, “this is not true.” She couldn’t believe it, not yet. But the evidence—she had to look at it. She had to understand it. But no matter how hard she tried, a deep, hollow sense of betrayal started gnawing at her.

“And you’re still trying to protect her?” Ambessa’s voice cut through Caitlyn’s thoughts like a knife. “She’s been playing you this whole time, and you’ve allowed it. It’s time you face reality. She was never one of you.”

The accusation hit harder than she expected. The shock of hearing it come from Ambessa’s lips—the venom in her words—was enough to make Caitlyn’s head spin. She could feel the rage building inside her, her chest rising and falling with every breath. How could you—how could you—do this to her? How could you lie to her face, let her feel something for you, only to betray everything she had ever known?

Rictus’s voice broke through the haze of her thoughts. “She’s working with Jinx. We’ve already sent out people to track her. If you want to find her, you’ll need to act quickly. She’s a liability now. And if we don’t take her out, she’ll take us all down with her.”

Caitlyn couldn’t stand it anymore. The anger, the hurt, the overwhelming feeling of betrayal that clouded her judgment. You were working with Jinx? You—the person she had trusted, the person who had made her feel something she couldn’t explain—had been playing her this whole time? She felt her blood boil, her hands shaking as she gripped the desk harder, her thoughts racing with fury.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping violently against the floor. “I’m going after her,” Caitlyn said, her voice dark with anger and determination.

Ambessa and Rictus exchanged glances, but neither said anything. They didn’t need to. They knew what Caitlyn was capable of.

“You won’t stop me,” she said, her words sharp, cutting through the tension in the room.

As she turned to leave, her mind fixated on one thing: You. You had betrayed her, and now she had no choice but to find you. To face you. To make you pay for everything. Because if you had truly turned against her, if you had been working with Jinx all along… she would make sure you didn’t get away with it.

And somewhere deep inside, beneath the anger and the rage, there was a small flicker of something else. Something that made her hesitate. Something that, for just a moment, felt like it might break her heart. But she couldn’t let it. Not now. She had to do this.

You were a traitor. And she couldn’t let you go free.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The warm sun bathed the open field in soft, golden light. The wind played through the tall grass, swaying it in gentle waves. Birds chirped in the distance, and the air was full of the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers. You and Isha ran across the field, the sounds of her laughter ringing out as you chased after her in a game of tag.

She darted ahead, faster than you expected, her small figure almost blending into the landscape as she sprinted with joy. Her giggles were pure, carefree, and infectious. You pushed yourself to catch up, the ground beneath you soft and firm, giving way to each step as you closed in on her. She glanced over her shoulder just as you reached out, and with a gleeful shriek, you grabbed her in mid-air, lifting her up and spinning her around in playful triumph.

You both fell together into a patch of soft wildflowers, the colors of purples, yellows, and whites mixing together beneath you. The flowers tickled your skin, and the world seemed to slow as the sound of your laughter filled the air. Isha’s laughter was the sweetest sound, and you couldn’t help but grin as you both rolled through the flowers, giggling like children who had forgotten the weight of the world.

From the edge of the field, Jinx watched with quiet intensity, her eyes drawn to the way you moved with Isha, the way your smiles seemed so natural, so effortless. The interaction from a few nights ago—the raw emotions, the vulnerability, the tension—still played through her mind. Did you mean it? she wondered. Were you scared? She hadn’t forgotten the words you’d said, or how you looked at her, and it made something stir deep inside her. There was a longing, a confusion, that she couldn’t shake.

You playfully teased Isha about how you were going to catch her, your voice light and mischievous as you taunted her in your usual way. She squealed in excitement and dashed toward Jinx, her arms outstretched, ready to leap into her arms. Jinx caught her easily, lifting her up and spinning her in a whirlwind of laughter. You watched them, your heart softening at the sight of the two of them so happy, so full of life.

But then, your expression shifted. Your smile faltered, and something in the air felt different. Jinx noticed the change in your demeanor immediately. It was like the energy around you had shifted, something heavy settling over you. You stood still for a moment, your gaze turning toward them, locking with Jinx’s.

Then, with an unsettling calm, you took a few slow steps forward, eyes fixed on her and Isha. Something was coming. Jinx felt it too. Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes flickered around the field, searching for any signs of danger.

That’s when the explosion hit.

The force of it sent shockwaves through the air, a deafening crack that reverberated in the ground, knocking you off your feet. You were thrown back, flying through the air, tumbling several yards before crashing into the ground with a harsh, painful thud.

Jinx’s blood ran cold as she heard your scream—no, your command—rising from the chaos.

“RUN!”

The urgency in your voice pierced through everything, and Jinx didn’t hesitate. She scooped Isha up into her arms with a swift, practiced motion and sprinted away. Isha’s small hands reached out toward you, her face full of confusion and fear, her quiet pleas echoing in the silence.

“I’m not leaving you!” she seemed to be saying, her face strained with the silent desperation of someone who couldn’t speak, but whose heart was crying out.

Jinx’s chest tightened. Her eyes blurred with tears, but she didn’t stop. She pushed forward, running as fast as she could, not even daring to look back at the devastation you had just endured. She could hear Isha’s soft cries, the child’s desperate fingers grasping at her in a futile attempt to return to you. It tore at Jinx’s heart with each step.

Behind her, you struggled to stand, your body trembling with pain, but you refused to collapse. Adrenaline surged through you as you fought off a few enforcers, desperate to hold your ground. The battle was brief, but your strength was fading, and you could feel it. The pain in your stomach was unbearable, but you fought through it, blocking blows, disarming attackers.

Then, the crack of a rifle.

The shot rang through the air like a thunderclap, and your body froze. The world seemed to slow as the bullet pierced through your side, the force knocking the breath out of you. Pain shot through your body like a lightning bolt, and you staggered back, barely managing to stay on your feet. Blood welled from the wound, warm and sticky, soaking through your clothes as you dropped to your knees.

Your vision blurred. The pain in your stomach was overwhelming, each breath a struggle. Your strength was failing you. You looked around, and your heart skipped as you spotted Caitlyn in the distance. She stood at the edge of the field, a rifle still raised, a cold look in her eyes.

Her gaze met yours across the battlefield. For a brief moment, your eyes locked, and you saw something in her expression—something cold, but also… familiar. It was a look that haunted you.

Jinx, hidden from view, watched it all unfold from the shadows. Her chest tightened as her mind raced, her heart hammering in her ears. She saw you drop to your knees, your body shaking, the blood pooling beneath you. She was paralyzed with fear, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene.

Isha’s small hand pressed against Jinx’s chest, her fingers curling around her as she whimpered softly, the weight of what was happening sinking in.

“I’m not leaving you,” Jinx whispered to her, even though there was no way she could keep that promise. Not with everything that was unfolding.

With a quick, frantic glance back at you, Jinx grabbed Isha and ran, putting every ounce of strength she had into escaping. The last thing she saw was you, crumpling to the ground, unable to move anymore.

The screams of the world faded as Jinx pushed forward, the only thing on her mind: finding her sister.

She wasn’t going to let you—or her—be lost to this.

————————

told yall… next chap later today (so much about to go down- this a long ass fic i wrote so hold on to your hats cause boy this meal about to be five mf stars)

[mystic-writings]

out like a light | steve harrington

PAIRING — steve harrington x fem!reader

SUMMARY — you and steve have been living a happy, simple life in hawkins. the return of an old friend flips everything on its head.

WARNINGS — angst, verbal arguments, cheating, steve and reader are married

WORD COUNT — 2,856

NOTES — loosely inspired by 'out like a light 2' by ricky montgomery

masterlist | navigation

Steve Harrington was all yours. 

It started out as a silly promise, a quiet whisper between lips and sheets in the early days of your relationship. But it was a promise nonetheless, and Steve intended to keep it for as long as you would let him. 

You seemed to have one of those picture perfect relationships; one that everyone envied, even if the path that led you there was anything but. It took time to get to where you were, and a lot of pain. Effort. But it was worth the heartache, the uncertainty. Because you were happy. 

According to the social class guidelines of your high school career, you and Steve even being friends with each other was something nearly unthinkable. But neither of you could care too much about something as stupid as that — your relationship meant too much. You’d been through too much together. 

And, somehow, through the nights spent singing to Queen on the radio and driving along the long abandoned Hawkins roads, you fell in love with Steve Harrington. And he fell in love with you, too. 

Your relationship didn’t go without its trials and tribulations. You weren’t that lucky. 

The first big fight you could remember happened right after your high school graduation. There was no forgetting it; it was the first time you’d ever told him you loved him. 

“Why are you being so ridiculous, Steve?!” You shouted, standing with a heaving chest in his parent’s living room. You’d been shouting at each other for an hour, now. Maybe longer. Steve’s parents weren’t home, so you didn’t mind being so loud. Then again, they never were. “You’re not even listening to me!” 

“I’m not being ridiculous, here! I’m just—” he huffed, carding his fingers through his hair. “You’re going off to college in two months and I’m staying here, I just don’t think it’ll work out.” 

You felt like your lungs were robbed of air. “Don’t say that.” You pleaded, eyes brimming with sudden tears. “You don’t get to decide that. It’s not fair.” 

“You deserve better.” Steve decided. “A lot better than me.” 

“And what makes you think that, Steve? What, because you didn’t get into any colleges?” Your voice was soaked in emotion, and you didn’t have the energy to try to hide it from him. You didn’t want to. “You can try again next year, you know. With Robin. Save your money and just try again.” 

Steve seemed to deflate at your words, but you weren’t done. 

Taking a hesitant step closer, you began to close the gap between you, words trembling on the tip of your tongue. “I love you, Steve Harrington. Nothing is going to change that. I’m all yours. No one else’s. I don’t want to be, baby.” 

“Don’t,” Steve nearly begged. His heart swelled at your words, almost unbearably so, a terrifying reminder of why he was doing this. “I don’t want to hold you back.” 

“From what?” You asked, voice a mere whisper. “What could you possibly hold me back from?”

Steve sighed, his head dropping. He could barely stand to look at you; at the pain he was causing you. Your red rimmed eyes searched for his, and his resolve almost crumbled. The sinister voice in the back of his head reminded him that this was for the best. The calming one told him to hear you out. 

“From a life away from here, from Hawkins.” Steve said, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I’m just— I’ll always be the reminder of this town. Of the things we’ve been through. And I know how much it all hurt you. I don’t want to do that to you.” 

“If there’s one thing you’re not, it’s that, Steve,” you told him, taking another step forward. “If anything, you’re my reminder that there’s still good in this place. You help me forget.” 

A strangled sob slipped from Steve’s lips, and you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. Steve’s head fell into the crook of your neck as one of your hands cupped the back of his head, your lips pressing gentle kisses to his hair. 

“I love you,” he whispered, grabbing your sweater by the fistful. 

You sighed, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I love you, too.” 

Being high school sweethearts and making it through college was a feat you didn’t think most people could achieve. But you and Steve had been so in love that somehow, someway, you did. The thought that you couldn’t never even crossed your mind. 

All of the friends you made through college all said the same thing — you were made for each other. Soulmates. The perfect couple. 

A perfect picture of love and happiness. 

Eventually, after that first fight, Steve had proved you right. He and Robin attended college together, graduating the year after you did. You never once doubted his ability to do what he wanted in life. 

You built a life for yourselves together. Steve began working for his dad, with a higher title than he could’ve ever gotten without a degree. You put your knowledge to use, working with the freshmen at Hawkins High. Even if Steve had wanted a life for you outside of the town, you didn’t mind staying. You’d go anywhere if it meant you were with Steve. 

He proposed Christmas after his college graduation. You got married two springs later, and moved into a brand-new, red brick house with four bedrooms — enough room to start a family. 

It was the simplest of lives, but you relished every single day of it. If it meant that there were no more monsters crawling out from the depths of hell to try and kill you, you would enjoy every single day. 

But it seemed that Steve didn’t want the life you did anymore. 

You should’ve seen the signs earlier. After being married for half a decade, and together for almost twice that time, you should’ve seen it when Steve first began pulling away from you. 

Nights spent late at the office, leaving you to eat dinner alone. Business trip after business trip, where Steve barely made the effort to call before bed. The declining amount of date nights, both out and in the comfort of your home. Steve’s lack of enthusiasm to hear about your day, or to just spend time with you in general. The way that every conversation began with snipping remarks that eventually turned into meaningless shouting matches. 

It should’ve been no surprise when you found the root of it all. 

Nancy Wheeler moving back to Hawkins was a surprise. Though, she was by no means Nancy Wheeler anymore. She’d been Nancy Byers for just under four years when she and Jonathan came back to their hometown. 

You were eager to catch up with her when she moved back to town. She and Jonathan had been living in Boston ever since they graduated college — her degree coming from Emerson, and his from Quincy, a community college from what you’d heard. With them, they brought a one-year old boy, with eyes like his mother’s and a quiet demeanor like his father. Benji Byers, short for Benjamin. 

The couple seemed content to move back for their son’s sake, to live out the rest of their life in the quiet town, now no longer plagued by the horrors you’d experienced in your teenage years. You were just glad you had someone familiar to talk to again; Robin stayed in Chicago after college, and only really visited for the holidays, wherein she’d crash in your spare bedroom for a month with her girlfriend, Jess. You loved the company.

You spent a lot of spare time with Nancy, Jonathan, and Benji. They’d moved back to town around the time of year where Steve was away more often than he was home, and you couldn’t get enough of Benji. 

“Why don’t you and Steve don’t have kids yet?” Nancy had asked one day as you sat in her living room, a cooing Benji in your lap. You knew she had meant well, but the stutter in your heart and the hesitation before your response told her everything she needed to know. 

“We’re just not ready yet.” You said with a tight lipped smile. “Steve’s just so busy right now, and I think we’re still enjoying ourselves for now.” 

You just hoped your face didn’t show it as you relived the countless arguments over having kids that seemed to happen between you and Steve. Shouts of ‘I’m not ready’, always to be countered with your rebuttals of how much of a lie Steve’s words were. There was nothing you were more ready for than having a child. 

But it seemed Steve had his eye on something else. 

The Byers family moved back to Hawkins, and in less than a year, your marriage was nothing but a pile of rubble and shattered glass. 

The shuffling of feet and a clatter somewhere in the house roused you from your uncomfortable sleep. 

“Steve?” You mumbled from your place on the couch, voice raspy. 

An open book lay face down on your thigh, darkness drenching the space around you as your eyes adjusted. The last you remembered was flipping the page on your book, the clock reading quarter-past midnight, as you waited for Steve to get home safe. 

The shuffling stopped abruptly, and you stretched out your stiff limbs before closing the book and making your way to the kitchen, where light was spilling from the archway. Bleary-eyed, you glanced at the clock, almost unsurprised to find it reading twenty minutes to four. 

“Where were you?” You asked, finding Steve’s back to yours as he stood at the sink, hands gripping the counter. A bottle of whiskey and a half-full glass sat on the counter next to him. 

“Nowhere,” Steve said, knuckles turning white, head hanging low. “I, uh— I went to the bar with some of the guys, that’s all. Go to bed, I’ll be up in a minute.”

You sighed, shuffling into the room. “Steve,” you whispered. “Come with me. Please.”

Steve’s shoulders tensed beneath his crumpled button down, and it was now that you noticed the state he was in. Most of his outfit had been wrinkled, the sleeves haphazardly rolled halfway up his forearms. His hair was a mess, almost as though the gel he’d put in it that morning was never there in the first place. And the closer you looked, the easier you could see it. 

His hair was wet. 

You had known for a fact that it wasn’t going to rain tonight, mostly because you were planning to cook a barbeque dinner for yourself and Steve. 

The pieces seemed to click into place in an instant, and your blood ran cold. The thought of it made your stomach turn, your heart shattering in your chest, shards ripping and tearing at the skin of your soul. 

“Steve, where were you,” your tone was low, soaked in emotion. 

In an instant, Steve was turning to face you, anger twisting his face. “Jesus, I already told you! I was at the damn bar, Y/n!” 

You stepped back at Steve’s flailing limbs, horrified to find that the front of him looked no better than the back. 

The tie he’d put on that morning was no longer around his neck — in fact, it was missing altogether. The top five buttons on his shirt were undone, exposing the white tank top he wore underneath it. It also exposed the angry red marks that littered his chest and neck, forcing a strangled, quiet gasp from your throat like the last breath of air before you drowned beneath the weight of it all. 

“Who is she?” 

“What?” Steve hissed, following your eyes to his chest. His shoulders sagged, fingers fumbling to button his shirt, as if hiding the evidence of his infidelity would make you forget about it. “Y/n it’s not— don’t—” 

“Who is she?” You said, voice dripping with anger and pain. You could barely see your husband through the wall of tears building in your eyes, but you refused to take your eyes away from him. You would not break. 

Steve gnawed on his lip, heart racing. He knew he couldn’t lie to you, to his wife. 

“Nancy.” He spoke barely above a whisper, the name coming off his tongue like a bullet, aimed at your already shattered heart. 

The staggered breath that came from you made Steve’s chest fill with guilt. When he looked up, he found you staring at him, eyes tearful and cheeks stained with the ones that had already fallen. 

And yet, the response you gave was one he wasn’t expecting. 

“She’s a mother, Steve. How could you?” The more you thought about the entire situation, the more your sadness turned to rage. “She has a child! What did you think was going to happen, hmm?! You’d break up two marriages and ruin that poor boy’s life because— because, what, you got bored of me? That you’d raise someone else’s son because you couldn’t stand to think of having one with me?” 

As soon as the words slipped past your lips, it seemed the brief fire within you went with them. Your stomach turned at the thought, hands carding through your hair. “You… She has a son… Oh, God.” 

“Y/n—” Steve rushed forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

You pushed your husband’s arm away from you, taking several steps back. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me, Steve. I can’t believe you.” 

Turning on your heel, you rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs, Steve shouting your name as he followed after you. 

“Y/n, come on, let’s just talk about this,” 

You spun around in your bedroom doorway, chest heaving. “You want to talk about this?” You scoffed. “Why don’t we talk about the fact that every time I’ve brought up kids you said you didn’t want any yet! That you weren’t ready! Let’s talk about how I’ve spent the past four months— longer than that, even— trying to find a way to fix our marriage while you screwed your high school ex-girlfriend behind my back! About how you ruined two marriages because you couldn’t stand living a normal life!” 

“That’s not true!” Steve shouted back, following as you moved to grab a suitcase from the closet. “You know that isn’t true, Y/n!” 

“Yeah, right, it’s not true.” You admitted, stopping between where the suitcase sat open, empty on the bed, and where the dresser sat. “You wanted that life. The white, picket fence, Church on Sundays life. You just didn’t want it with me.” 

Steve stood in your bedroom — the room you shared, as husband and wife — dumbfounded and heartbroken at the sight of you. He had been the one to cause this hurt, and for what? To relive his teen years? To go back to the time that seemed to be the highlight of Steve’s life? 

His mind started back up again when he noticed the clothes you were packing into the suitcase. They were his. 

“What— Honey, what are you doing?” 

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, shoving everything he owned into one of his suitcases. “And if you really want to know, I’m packing. Because if you really love Nancy that much, you can go sleep on her couch. I’m not sharing my bed or this house with a cheating asshole.” 

Steve’s chest deflated, struggling to catch another breath. “What?”

“You heard me. You made the choice to sleep with another woman. A married woman. Now deal with the consequences.” The zipping of the suitcase on the bed punctuated your words, and Steve watched, practically glued to the floor as you hauled it out of the room and into the hallway. 

It wasn’t until it thumped heavily down the stairs that Steve jumped, legs finally kicking back into gear. 

Your footsteps followed the tumbling suitcase. Steve watched from the top of the steps as you grabbed it, and he followed you as you moved to the front door, wrenching it open. 

“Y/n, Y/n, wait—” 

Steve was unable to stop you as you tossed it out onto the paved walkway, the suitcase skidding along the concrete as you turned to look back at him. 

“Get the hell out of my house.” 

Upon catching the look in your eye, the fury mixed with unimaginable despair, Steve knew there was nothing to be done to salvage your relationship. As he passed you by, Steve stopped at the threshold and whispered, “I’m sorry,” 

You didn’t acknowledge him as he walked out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him. 

And with the click of the lock latching, and the metal door cooling your skin as you pressed your forehead against it, you let the dam break. Sobs wracked your body, shaking your bones as you slid to the floor, curling up against the front door. 

Steve Harrington had once promised that he was all yours. But promises get broken, and people, more often than not, turn out to be liars.

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

steve harrington taglist: @theweasleyslut @starjane312 @the-romanian-is-bae @lillsxd @jemimah-b99 @heavcnslyre @xitsyaiizax @magicalxdaydream @timeladygallifrey @cadencebeat2662 @jamespotterslover @whoreou @mariecoded @suranne-doesstuff @hehehehannahthings @alexwritesthingssometimes @unic0rntaking0ver17645 @wecallhimbrowneyess @erospecies @pariahsparadise @alexxavicry @imabee-oralizard @bluesongbird @1-800-isabellapotter @ajordan2020 @g4ys0n @sunshine-daisies-library @tsaidelrey @moonlightsgirl

taglist form!

[ultred]

when you can’t persist in the new story through negative circumstances & react negatively to the 3d.

this is something i struggle with sometimes ngl. persistence isn’t that hard for me, but sometimes my circumstances can make it a bit difficult and i end up reacting negatively or doing something that contradicts my manifestation. here is how i deal with it.

1) if i can’t deny the negative circumstances, i tell myself that they’re leading me to my desires. even if i’m put in the worst situations i can possibly think of, i tell myself that they’re part of the unfolding and that everything is working out in my favor. just like when you order something and some complications happen. you know that eventually these complications will be resolved and your order will arrive regardless. when i am unable to mentally persist in the new story, that’s what i focus on. i don’t focus too much on the unfolding though so i don’t stay there. i just don’t give power to them. i just try to be as calm as i possibly can and know that the negative circumstances are just the unboxing of my manifestation.

2) i recall moments when everything went to shit and i still got my desires. i have a lot of moments where my 3d was in shambles and i still got my manifestations or something even better.

3) i remind myself that the law is real and it’s a LAW. meaning, it is always on. it is always waiting for me to select the reality i want. i’m always shifting. i’m always choosing. this doesn’t change just because i’m facing negative circumstances.

4) i tell myself that no matter what i do in the 3d, it doesn’t matter. it’ll lead me to my manifestation regardless. even when i throw a fit or have a mental breakdown or react negatively to the 3d in any way, i tell myself that it doesn’t matter. i can do whatever i want and still get my manifestation. if i want to cry, i cry. if i want to feel angry or frustrated, i allow myself to feel these emotions. sometimes i pretend that time froze along with everything else. like i’m in a place where nothing happens and it transcends the notion of time and existence ? in a way. i’m allowed to do anything i want and it won’t affect my 3d at all.

5) i trained my mind to detach from anything that overwhelms me. this one was extremely hard at first but now i’m way better at it. i naturally detach after letting my feelings out. i don’t feel regret at all for reacting especially when it comes to sp or people in general. this eventually led to my awareness being more focused on myself and my inner peace rather than my desires.

6) i watch manifestation content as motivation boosts. i don’t know why so many people are against this honestly. i’m pretty sure that even if you’re a “master manifestor” you’ll sometimes need a motivation boost or reminders and that’s okay. i’ve lived a big portion of my life without knowing about loa, shifting, non-dualism, etc. so sometimes my mind will go to my old mindset or beliefs especially as someone who grew up in an environment where people’s spiritual or religious beliefs where forced onto them. i’m sure some of you might relate. i try to saturate my mind with manifestation content to remind myself of my power and focus on my own mindset instead of my desires and the 3d circumstances.

7) i read some of y’alls blogs ! honestly, they’re so helpful. i’m so glad i reinstalled this app because the manifestation community here is amazing. y’all are so motivating and informative. i love the creativity on here as well. being here also helps me feel more motivated to focus on myself and i even reread my own blogs as reminders. do whatever makes you feel good. i sometimes even play loa audiobooks, take a nap, or spoil myself in any way. i make myself happy regardless of what i see in the 3d. if persistence feels exhausting or difficult to me, i just do my best to chill and detach and that eventually calms me down and makes me able to handle things way better than when i’m triggered. i think emotional self-regulation is beneficial. is it a necessity for manifesting what you desire ? no. but it does help in moments like this. ⋆ ⟡˖ ࣪

[inkspiredwriting]

Goodbye to Keep You Safe

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five paced the dimly lit living room, his thoughts a whirlwind. The house, usually a place of comfort and refuge, now felt stifling. He glanced at the old clock on the mantelpiece. Y/n would be here any minute, and he needed to gather the strength to do what had to be done.

He knew he was doing this to protect her. The Commission was after him, and his enemies had grown more dangerous and unpredictable. Staying together would only paint a target on her back. But the logic of his decision did little to dull the ache in his heart.

The sound of footsteps and a soft knock at the door jolted him from his reverie. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation that would follow.

“Come in,” he called out, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.

The door creaked open, and Y/n stepped inside, her face lighting up with a warm smile as soon as she saw him. “Hey, Five,” she said, crossing the room to hug him. “I missed you.”

Five hugged her back, lingering for a moment longer than usual. “Hey, Y/n,” he replied softly, his voice tinged with sadness. He pulled away, gently holding her at arm’s length. “We need to talk.”

Y/n’s smile faltered, concern flickering in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “Is something going on?”

Five nodded, struggling to find the right words. “I...I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about our future,” he began, his gaze fixed on the floor. “And I’ve realized that as long as we’re together, you’re in danger.”

Y/n's expression softened, a mix of confusion and worry. “What are you talking about? Five, we’ve faced dangers before. We’ve always made it through.”

Five shook his head, his eyes meeting hers. “This is different, Y/n. The threats I’m dealing with now, they’re beyond anything we’ve faced. The Commission, other enemies—they won’t hesitate to use you to get to me.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, understanding dawning. “You’re breaking up with me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Because you think it’ll keep me safe?”

Five’s heart clenched at the pain in her voice. He reached out, taking her hands in his. “I don’t want to do this, Y/n. I love you more than anything. But I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you because of me.”

Tears welled up in Y/n’s eyes, but she squeezed his hands tightly. “Five, you can’t protect me from everything. We’re stronger together. We can face whatever comes our way.”

Five closed his eyes, battling his own emotions. “I wish that were true,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “But I can’t take that risk. I can’t lose you.”

Y/n’s grip tightened, her tears falling freely now. “But you’re losing me anyway, Five. You’re pushing me away.”

Five’s resolve wavered, but he forced himself to let go of her hands, stepping back. “I’m doing this because I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “You deserve a life free from constant danger, from the shadows that follow me. You deserve better.”

Y/n shook her head, her tears flowing. “All I want is you, Five. I don’t care about the danger. I just want to be with you.”

Five’s heart shattered at her words, but he knew he had to stay strong. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said, his voice cracking. “This is the only way I can protect you.”

Y/n stood there, tears streaming down her face, her hands reaching out as if to hold onto him. But Five took another step back, his own tears blurring his vision. “Goodbye, Y/n,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Please, stay safe.”

With a final, heart-wrenching look, Five turned and walked away, his steps heavy and slow. He didn’t dare look back, knowing that if he did, he would never be able to go through with it.

A Year Later

Five stood on a quiet street, his heart pounding as he glanced up at the small café where Y/n worked. The Commission had been dismantled, and the threat had finally passed. He had returned, hoping to find her, to explain, to see if there was any chance for them.

As he walked toward the door, he saw Y/n through the window. She was serving a customer, her smile as radiant as ever, though he noticed a shadow of sadness in her eyes. His heart ached with longing and regret, but he knew he had to try.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Y/n looked up, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw him. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the distance of the past year closing in an instant.

“Five,” Y/n said, her voice a mix of shock and emotion. “You’re back.”

Five nodded, his throat tight. “I am. And I’m so sorry, Y/n. I never stopped loving you. I had to protect you, but I’m here now, and I—”

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears, but she smiled through them. “You came back,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “That’s all that matters.”

Five crossed the room in a few swift steps, pulling her into a tight embrace. They held each other, their tears mingling, their hearts finally finding solace in each other’s arms.

As they stood there, holding on as if they would never let go, Five knew that this time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake. He had lost her once, but now he had a second chance. And he would spend the rest of his life making sure he never lost her again.

[ladykailitha]

Hellfire Part 8

This story is almost done and will have 13 chapters. Which I thought was very fitting, honestly. It has been one hell of a ride and thank you for sticking it out with me.

In this we have a new villain or two, the attacks against Steve simmer down, but up frequency, and Wayne is pissed.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

Steve had to be more careful and stayed clear of the edge of the stage. But little things kept happening. His make up would go missing, his hair spray would suddenly be empty, just little things.

Wayne was furious. The fact that whoever was doing this was doing it under his nose. He couldn’t believe that any of the people he hired would stoop so low as to terrorize another dancer into quitting.

He resolved to get to the bottom of this, come hell or high water.

“You don’t have to do this,” Eddie murmured. “You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

Wayne glared at him. “I came down here to make things easier on you in running this place. So I’mma focus on this and you focus on shaking your ass up there.”

Eddie ducked his head and nodded. “I just don’t understand why they wouldn’t just say something to me.”

“Maybe you did and you rightfully told them to go to hell,” Wayne reasoned. “Some folks just don’t like change. Will do everything in their power to buck against it. Nothing you can do about that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie said with a heavy sigh. “Just keep it on the down low. I don’t want them spooking and doing real harm to Steve.”

“You’ve got it.”

~

It would be a couple of days later before Wayne got anywhere with his little investigation. He called Jeff and Eddie into the office.

“Have a seat boys,” Wayne said with a chuckle. “You aren’t in trouble, there was just something I noticed while digging into the schedules to see if I could find a pattern in the attacks against Steve.”

Jeff and Eddie shared a glance.

“What did you dig up, you old fossil?” Jeff teased.

Wayne turned around a piece of paper and laid it on the desk. It was their weekly schedule.

Eddie read it and then scooted it back to Wayne. “Okay, I’ve seen this, I’m the one that makes it. What about it?”

“Did you know that you and Jeff don’t have any nights off?” Wayne said, lacing his fingers together and leaning on his elbows. “Eddie I get, he’s a workaholic and wants to be there every night to make sure everything goes well and doesn’t have any issues that crop up. But you, Jeffrey? I expected better work/life balance out of you.”

Jeff blushed. “I originally asked for more days because I went through a messy break up and just never changed it back.” He rubbed his hair sheepishly.

“You’re both experiencing burnout,” Wayne groused. “And I’m not gonna let that happen on my watch. So here’s what is gonna happen. On Monday nights, Jeff will have it off. Not Sunday, though I considered it. Don’t want folks thinking you’ve got a problem with Steve, considering he has your night off.”

Jeff nodded. “Works for me.”

Eddie just shrugged. It didn’t matter when Jeff had off. All the days were covered for the dancers, it was just the waiters he had trouble with juggling to give Robin and Steve the same days off.

“And you will have Tuesdays off,” Wayne growled. “And on that day, Jeff will be manager. Lean on him a little and I’ll bet you both will be feeling like new men in a matter of weeks.”

Eddie and Jeff shared another glance.

“Yeah, okay,” Jeff said. “It’ll my nice to have an evening to myself for a change.”

Eddie on the other narrowed his eyes at his uncle. “Giving me the same day off at Steve, and you’ll want me to believe that’s coincidental.”

Wayne smiled back. “Oh it absolutely isn’t. It is a very deliberate attempt to get you laid.”

Jeff laughed as Eddie slumped in his seat, arms crossed over his chest in a pout. “Fuck you, too, old man,” Eddie huffed.

Wayne’s expression turned serious and immediately Eddie sat up straight and Jeff gripped the arms of the chair. “I think I have it narrowed down to about three people it could be and it could be all of them, one of them, or any combination of two.”

“Let me guess, Stella, Danny, and Levi?” Eddie said darkly.

Wayne blinked at him for a moment and then tilted his head. “How did you get two out of the three right? I knew Stella still had problems with Steve, but I thought Danny and Levi had gotten over all their doubts about him.”

“He made them look stupid,” Jeff said shaking his head. “Hell, I’m pretty sure I’d hold a grudge against anyone who did that to me.”

“So who are the three?” Eddie asked, leaning forward on his elbows and cupping his hands under his chin.

“Levi, Danny, and Scott,” Wayne said, sitting back in the chair.

“It’s not Scott,” Eddie and Jeff said together.

Wayne eyebrows shot up. “You two sound very sure of that. Why?”

“They’ve become friends,” Jeff said, “they even go out for lunch and coffee and stuff. Scott would never.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “Scott was the one that jumped in and helped Steve when he was having trouble with a move Steve’s first day at practice. Dude would literally have to be possessed before he hurt Steve.”

Wayne blinked at them for a moment. “Not Scott then.” He made a note and quietly rearranged things. “All right, it’s really looking like there is a third person but I can’t figure out who it is.”

“I don’t want to say Stella,” Jeff huffed, “but it’s totally Stella.”

Wayne opened his mouth to refute that when Scott came barreling into the room.

“Eddie you’ve got to come quick!” he huffed. “There is something happening out front and we need you!”

All three men were on their feet in an instant and followed Scott out to the front of the club. Eddie wasn’t sure what he was going to see but whatever it was, it wasn’t this.

Steve stood in front of Chrissy with his arms crossed in front of him, glaring at two newcomers. Well, one was a newcomer. The woman was new to Eddie, but the man most certainly was not. Jason Carver, asshole extraordinaire stood next to short woman with dark curly hair and piercingly cold eyes. She also had her arms crossed over her chest, her full weight on her back foot.

“I don’t care what you think of me, Nancy Wheeler,” Steve spat, “you or the sanctimonious ass over here, but you leave Chrissy alone.”

Instantly Eddie’s already raised hackles went into overdrive. “Hey, what’s going on here?” he asked moving between the intruders and his dancers.

The woman, Nancy raised an unimpressed eyebrow as she looked him up and down. “And you are?”

“I’m the owner, Eddie Munson,” he replied coldly. “And you already fucking knew that. Or at least you should if you’re any kind of reporter. But then again most journalists don’t care about the truth anymore just about getting that good ‘ol revenue dollar.” He rubbed his fingers and thumb to indicate money.

Nancy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She didn’t think that she would be recognized. “So you’ve heard of little me?” She ducked her head and batted eyelashes coquettishly.

“I’ve course I’ve heard of Nancy Wheeler,” Eddie growled. “You’re the reporter that got that lab in Hawkins shut down for dumping chemicals into the local lakes. I thought you were about taking out the trash, not swimming with it.”

Jason raised his fists to go after Eddie, but Nancy stalled him by putting her hand on his chest. “You and I have very different definitions of trash if you think I’m not taking it out, by writing an an exposé on this place to get it closed down. Hopefully for good.”

Eddie laughed. He just doubled over, clutching his sides. When he finally stood up, he wiped a tear from his eye. “Honey, if you’re talking about the Mayor’s daughter, I was barely involved and fired the one that was heavily so. All my licenses are current and my building was inspected two months ago and was told it was better than in code.”

Nancy narrowed her eyes and turned to face him completely. “And what about men and women getting dressed together in one big room? There is no privacy.”

“Honey,” Eddie said disdainfully, “I don’t know if you’ve been to many of these types of clubs, but like with modeling shows you have to do costume changes really fast and sometimes you see a bit of a dick or the flash of a nipple. Besides, they literally take their clothes off for a living, I really don’t think they’re seeing anything they haven’t a million times before.”

“It’s about the decency!” Jason roared. “Men and women shouldn’t be getting changed together! And they certainly shouldn’t be taking their clothes off together! It goes against the sanctity of marriage!”

“Jason,” Chrissy said, sliding off the stage on to the restaurant floor, “if this is about us breaking up, it’s been five years, get over it. I broke up with you because you are controlling and an ass.” She cocked her head to the side. “But especially because I’m a lesbian!”

Jason pulled out an actual fucking cross and thrust it in her face. She rolled her eyes and walked around it, straight up to Nancy. She looked her up and down. “I know your type. You’re as much as hypocritical, sanctimonious ass as he is. Only virtuous when it suits. You’re the type that would picketing outside of a Planned Parenthood, slip in for a little flush on the weekend and then pop! Back out on the picket line by Monday. You don’t get to judge me, princess. I’m the Queen of Hell.”

Steve let out a whistle. “She’s got you pegged, Nance. You’re just pissed no one else would put up with your diva behavior once I was forced to drop out of the ballet company. Well, it’s not my fault your understudy didn’t know the correct way to jump. But then again, she shouldn’t have had to know it, but you refused to come out your dressing room because the flowers in the bouquet were red and not white.”

“The flowers are supposed to symbolize the purity of the love between Odette and Siegfried and red means passion,” Nancy huffed stomping her foot. “But look at you, Steve. You’re stripping for strangers, using your God given talents for titillation and seduction.”

Steve laughed. “You say that like it’s not as much work and effort to strip as it is to do ballet. And let me tell you, having done both? Stripping is way more fun. I get to smile for a start.”

Nancy decided to change tacks. “Steve, I know when you got hurt, you felt like you had no where to go and I know you were fired from your last job, but is this really the life you want to live? I could put in a good word for you, anywhere you want to go. It would give you your dignity back.”

Steve put his hands on his hips and licked his lower lip. “Oh yeah? You going to put in a good word for everyone? What about Eddie? Huh, Nancy? You’re willing to take away his livelihood just because his morals don’t align with yours?”

Eddie felt a surge of fondness for his new dancer. Steve hadn’t been with the troupe long and had people actively try and hurt him. And yet, here he was standing up for all of them, but especially him.

“He doesn’t have morals!” Jason spat. “Him and his uncle has bred this den of iniquity for years corrupting the good people of this fair city to the depths of hell! The number of souls lost to this pit of destruction are countless and grotesque!”

“Dude,” Scott huffed. “Chill out. Being a stripper didn’t make Billy Hargrove an ass, being Billy Hargrove made him an ass. And Heather Holloway never set foot inside this club, not ever. So how did the club corrupt her? Billy? Pass me on that bullshit!” He licked his lips and cocked his head back and forth sassily. “Besides my mother is Catholic and she loves what I do. Just as much as she loves my younger brother doing drag on the weekends. So what’s your excuse?”

“You blaspheme!” Jason cried. “You’re all going to Hell! You will all burn in the fiery pits of damnation if you do not turn from your current path! Repent! Repent all ye sinners!”

“Fuck off,” Stella said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “We don’t need your puny god. He has no power here. Shoo!”

Eddie turned to them. “You heard the lady, get out before I call the cops on you two trespassing in my club.”

Nancy turned to Jason, “Come on, let’s get out of here. I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

Jason clenched his fist like he was still looking for a fight. He looked around gauging the people around him. With a sneer and a snarl, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the club. Nancy followed him, but she stopped at the door.

“This is your last chance, Steve,” she murmured. “You can still come with us. Leave this behind. I’m sure I could you place teaching ballet. You’d have to leave this place off your resumé of course. But just think, you could be raising the next group of dancers.”

Steve scoffed. “There are fifteen dancers, six bartenders, ten wait staff, and two large cleaning crews that depend on this club for their livelihood. Not to mention the two men who put their heart and soul into the running of this club, and if you think I’m going just walk away like that, then you never knew me at all.”

Nancy just shook her head and walked out the door. It was silent in the hall for a beat, maybe two before the whole club erupted into a dull roar. Everyone talking and gesturing wildly all at the same time.

Wayne let out a loud whistle. “Shut up!” Once everyone had sputtered to a stop and turned to stare at him, he said, “Nothing is going to happen to the club. There have been a total six of these so called exposés in its history and it has never come close to shutting down.”

“That said,” Eddie told them, “we keep everything on the up and up for next little bit. I’m not sure how long. But we’ve got this. We follow all the laws, we keep our mouths shut and our heads down.”

He looked at everyone and they all nodded back. He clapped. “Now let’s have a round of drinks on me. I think we all deserved one. Maybe three.”

~

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @gloomysoup @novelnovella @micheledawn1975 @garden-of-gay

[insidekatmind]

Daddy is home Pt.1~Jude Bellingham

Plot: Jude Bellingham and you were together but broke up due to the distance. Your paths separated and you were engaged. After a year he returns to his city and enters the bar and you were with your new boyfriend. Jude sees you and walks up to you and tells you that he was back for you and a new beginning.

Part.2

It was a quiet evening at the downtown bar, the place you’d grown fond of since moving to this city with your new boyfriend, Marco. He was kind, stable, and different from Jude. Yet, there was something unresolved in your heart, a wound that time hadn’t fully healed.

Sitting at the table by the window, you smiled at Marco as you talked about a vacation you were planning. Suddenly, the sound of the bell above the bar door made you look up. It wasn’t a usual patron. Your heart stopped.

Jude.

He was there, standing with his usual confident posture, a dark coat over his shoulders, and eyes that seemed to be searching for something—or someone. When your eyes met, you knew immediately it wasn’t a coincidence. He’d found you.

With slow, deliberate steps, Jude walked toward your table. Marco turned around, confused by the attention this stranger was giving. Jude’s gaze was locked on you, ignoring your boyfriend entirely.

“Y/N...” he said, his voice low and warm, just as you remembered.

You felt a lump in your throat but tried to stay composed. “Jude... what a surprise to see you here.”

Marco looked at you, then at him. “Who’s this?”

You hadn’t yet found the words to respond, but Jude took control of the situation. “I’m Jude Bellingham,” he said, pausing. “Her past.”

The confidence in his tone made Marco visibly uneasy. “Ah... I see.”

You tried to step in. “Jude, I don’t think this is the time—”

He interrupted you, his eyes fixed on yours. “It’s never the right time, is it? And yet, here I am.” He turned to Marco with cold politeness. “Sorry, man, but I need to speak to her. It’s important.”

Marco looked at you, waiting for you to resolve the situation. “It’s okay, it’ll just take a moment,” you said finally, placing a reassuring hand on Marco’s arm. You stood up, following Jude to a quieter corner of the bar.

Once you were alone, Jude turned to you. “I can’t believe it, Y/N. You’re really here. It felt impossible to see you again.”

You crossed your arms, your heart still racing. “I moved on, Jude. You were supposed to do the same.”

“Move on?” he repeated, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “It’s not that simple. Not for me.”

You stared at him, trying to stay calm. “And what do you think you’re doing now? Showing up like this, out of nowhere, turning my life upside down? It’s not fair, Jude.”

He took a step closer, his eyes full of emotions you couldn’t ignore. “I came back for you, Y/N. I don’t care how much time has passed or how much we’ve been through. I realized I can’t live without you.”

A pang shot through your chest. His words hit you like a storm. “Jude, it’s not that simple. I have a new life now, a new relationship...”

“Are you happy?” he asked softly, his voice almost a whisper. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re truly happy without me.”

You stayed silent for a moment too long, and he knew. “You can’t say it, can you? Because you know it too, Y/N. What we had can’t be erased. It can’t be replaced.”

You bit your lip, torn. “It’s not that easy, Jude. I can’t just throw away everything I’ve built because you came back.”

“I’m not asking you to throw anything away,” he said, his voice now gentle. “I’m asking you for a new beginning. I’m asking you to believe in us, one more time.”

He took your hand gently, and your heart felt like it might burst. “Please, Y/N. Give me a chance.”

At that moment, Marco walked over, interrupting. “Is everything okay here?” he asked, casting a suspicious glance at Jude.

You nodded, pulling your hand away. “Yes, everything’s fine.” You looked into Jude’s eyes one last time, feeling the weight of the decision you’d have to make.

Jude stepped back but never broke his gaze. “I’m here, Y/N. Whenever you’re ready.”

And with that, he turned and left the bar, leaving you with a storm in your heart and an impossible choice to face.