#sorry for taking a while to respond to this

[dykebehaviour]

more loser!ellie please 🙏🙏

taking loser!gf!ellie with you for lingerie shopping

cw: fluff, suggestive, loser lesbian!ellie, fem!reader.

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it starts with one sentence. one sentence and a perfectly timed glance over your shoulder while you’re straddling her on the couch.

“i need new lingerie.”

ellie doesn’t respond at first. she just sort of… short-circuits.

you’re wearing her hoodie - the green one with the stretched sleeves and little bleach spots on the cuff - and nothing underneath it. your thighs are bare against the scratchy fabric of her secondhand couch. your lip’s caught between your teeth. and you say it so casually, like you’re telling her you need shampoo. like you’re not already half in her lap, driving her fucking insane.

she’s holding a half-lit joint and stares at you like you’ve just told her the world’s ending.

“i’m sorry,” she says finally. “you what?”

“i need lingerie,” you say again, slowly this time, like she’s old or confused. you stretch, arms up over your head, hoodie riding even higher on your thighs. you blink down at her. “i’m low on pretty stuff.”

she blinks. once. twice. her fingers flex against your hips like she’s trying to ground herself. “isn’t all your stuff already… pretty?”

you grin. “that’s sweet. but no. i want the really pretty kind. the ridiculous kind. bows and lace and way too many straps.”

ellie’s jaw flexes. “oh.”

you let the silence stretch.

then: “you wanna come with me?”

ellie’s eyes shoot up. her whole body goes rigid, like you just asked her to go to war.

“to… to the lingerie store?”

you nod, very nonchalant. “yeah. i need a second opinion.”

“right. because i’m so… fashion-forward.”

“you are when it comes to me.”

ellie says nothing. her fingers twitch where they rest on your thighs. she’s pretending to look cool, but her mouth is slightly open and she hasn’t blinked in way too long.

you raise an eyebrow. “that a yes?”

she clears her throat. “uh. yeah. sure. i mean, yeah. i can do that. just, like… be normal. in the lingerie store. like a normal person.”

you lean in, grin widening. “you’ve never been normal, ellie.”

“yeah,” she breathes. “and it’s about to get so much worse.”

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the next day, she dresses like she’s attending your funeral.

dark jeans. beat-up converse. that ratty smashing pumpkins tee she only wears when she’s feeling brave, and a zip-up hoodie over the top. she doesn’t style her hair, just pulls it into a low bun and lets the baby curls frizz around her ears. you kiss her temple as she slouches into the passenger seat of your car, and she groans into her hands like you’ve just kissed her in front of a firing squad.

you, on the other hand, look unfairly hot.

hair pretty. lip gloss on. you even sprayed perfume - the one that makes her dizzy and stupid. you keep twirling your hair around your finger at red lights. keep crossing and uncrossing your legs like you don’t know exactly what it’s doing to her.

“please be gentle with me,” ellie mumbles as you pull into the parking garage.

“no promises.”

she groans again.

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the store is a lot.

it’s pink. everything is soft, glowing, wrapped in silk and tulle. the music is sultry - some slow, breathy remix of something you danced to at a party last summer. the mannequins are tall, leggy, headless, and intimidating. there’s a neon sign above the back wall in soft cursive that says treat yourself, baby.

ellie stares up at it like she’s witnessing a religious experience.

she mutters under her breath, “this place is terrifying.”

you loop your arm through hers and tug her deeper into the racks of lace and mesh.

“i thought you liked terrifying things,” you say.

“i do. usually. but this is… this is uncharted territory.”

you pause in front of a rack of blush-colored balconette bras and grin. “you mean you’ve never been in here before?”

ellie frowns. “i’m gay, not suicidal.”

you laugh, loud and bright, and the sound makes her smile, even if her ears are beet red.

she keeps her hands shoved in the front pocket of her hoodie. doesn’t touch anything. doesn’t even look too long at any single item, in case it kills her.

you, on the other hand, are in your element.

you move through the store like a dream, trailing your fingers over lace, pausing to hold up sheer teddies and corsets, tossing matching panties over your arm like it’s a fashion show and you’re the star. you pick up a strappy red bra and turn toward her, holding it against your chest.

“this one?” you ask.

ellie swallows. loudly. “jesus christ.”

you smirk. “so… yes?”

“yeah. definitely. that’s gonna haunt me in the best way.”

you pick up a few more pieces - pale blue, black silk, something sheer and embroidered with little moons and stars - and disappear into the dressing room with a wink.

ellie stands awkwardly outside, pretending to browse a rack of crotchless boyshorts. she checks her phone. bounces on the balls of her feet. almost asks the assistant if they have snacks, then realises that’s a completely insane thing to do in a lingerie store and shuts up.

then, your voice calls out from behind the curtain:

“babe?”

her heart stutters. “yeah?”

“can you come help me zip this?”

she drops her phone. literally drops it.

fumbles to pick it up. wipes her palms on her jeans. tries to act like her pulse isn’t pounding in her ears as she stumbles toward the back room like she’s walking toward her execution.

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the curtain slides shut behind her.

and ellie’s knees immediately go weak.

you’re standing in front of a full-length mirror in the softest, sexiest thing she’s ever seen. lavender lace. bare back. garter belt. stockings hugging your thighs. your skin glowing under the warm lights, the soft sheen of the fabric clinging to every curve like it was custom made for you.

you glance at her over your shoulder, all doe-eyed and dangerous. “can you zip it?”

ellie doesn’t answer. she just stares.

she looks like she’s in pain. mouth open. eyes wide. her gaze drags from your heels to your thighs to your hips to your back to your shoulders to your lips. she shifts on her feet like she’s trying to adjust herself without making it obvious, but you notice. of course you do.

you always do.

you smile slowly. “you okay, el?”

she clears her throat and steps forward. her hands are shaking as she reaches for the zipper. she’s so careful. touches you like you’re breakable. her fingers brush your spine and she jolts like she touched a live wire.

“i’m fine,” she lies, softly. “so fine. doing amazing. really holding it together.”

you turn to face her, and her mouth parts helplessly.

“do you like it?” you murmur.

“‘like’ is the understatement of the century,” she says. “i’m actually blacking out a little. Is that normal?”

you step closer. she doesn’t move away. she never does.

“i’ve got a few more to try,” you say. “want to help me with the rest?”

she exhales shakily. “this is a trap.”

you hum. “maybe.”

“you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“i hope so.”

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you model four more outfits.

with each one, ellie unravels a little more.

the second is all black mesh with star embroidery. the third is a deep red strappy set that leaves very, very little to the imagination. the fourth has tiny silk bows and pearl accents. the fifth, the final one, is so sheer you have to cover your nipples when you step out just to give her a chance.

she stares. frozen. absolutely wrecked.

you cross the room, slide your arms around her neck, and lean in until your lips brush her ear.

“i’m getting this one.”

she makes a noise, something breathless and desperate, and rests her forehead on your shoulder.

“you’re evil,” she whispers. “this is psychological warfare.”

you kiss her jaw. “you love it.”

“i do,” she groans. “that’s the worst part.”

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at checkout, ellie carries the bags like they’re sacred objects.

she hasn’t made eye contact with anyone in ten minutes. her ears are bright red. her face is still flushed. you hand the cashier your card and glance back at her, amused.

“you’re very quiet.”

“i’m recovering,” she mutters.

“from what?”

she glares at you, eyes glassy. “you flashed your ass at me in four different colours and then smiled like it was nothing. i saw your nipples through lace. that wasn’t just ‘nothing.’ that was a religious experience.”

you giggle and slide your arm through hers as you leave the store.

she’s still dazed when you reach the car.

you lean against the passenger door and grin. “wanna come back to mine?”

she nods immediately. “yes. oh my god. please.”

“for what?”

“closure. a cold shower. therapy. a full spiritual reset.”

you lean in, kiss her cheek, lips sticky with gloss. “i’ll wear the red one.”

she nearly walks into a parked car.

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perm taglist: @yasmilks , @natsheretic , @lovemiraamira , @ellies-real-wife , @wewerewildandfluorescent , @jullsii , @eyesttokill , @dmenby3100 , @bunchogravie , @oneinameliann , @intheshadowofthestars , @pariiissssssss , @vanpalmertruther , @madsxh1022 , @rbnvrnxoxo , @firefly-ace , @alyaserrax , @silly-pigeon69 , @glassofgreenteapls , @pearlsiie , @aj0elap0l0gist , @sincerelyherz , @imsiriuslycool , @0phantom0 , @ggutpunch , @leeidk87 , @mikellie <3

[nekonaps0]

The mood is gone pt2

✦part1 part3

✦gn!reader

✦characters: Cater, Jade, Vil, Malleus

✦slightly smut

✦how the boys would react when things are just about to get heated with their beloved… and then bam! someone barges in, killing the mood.

Cater Diamond

Things had been flirty all day, photos with heart filters, little brushes of fingers, and just enough lip-biting to make your knees weak.

Now classes are over and everyone went back to their dorms, and you were straddling Cater’s lap in the empty classroom he’d dragged you into “for couple time.”

His hands trailed your thighs. His voice, breathless and smooth

“Babe… you look way too hot~ Should I take photos of us and post it on my private story?”

His lips just barely brushed yours, his hand sliding under your top—

SLAM.

“CATER!? ARE YOU IN—OH GREAT SEVENS—”


Deuce stood frozen in the doorway like he’d just walked in on a crime scene.

Cater slowly turned, one hand still on your hip, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yo, Duecey. Maybe try knocking next time?”

You sighed, climbing off his lap.

“Yeah… mood’s gone.”

And you left.

Cater blinked after you, then looked at Deuce.

“You just cockblocked the best moment of my week. I’m not gonna cover you next when you break a rule.”

That night, he showed up with a heart-shaped lollipop at your door

“Let’s try again... but this time, no witnesses~”

Jade Leech

The lounge was empty. Closed. And you? Pressed up against the bar with Jade’s long fingers wrapped firmly around your hips and his lips ghosting over your throat.

“You really shouldn’t tempt me like this,” he purred, voice dangerously soft. “I don’t have much self-control when you beg like that…”

You whimpered softly, fingers clutching his uniform. His mouth hovered over your collarbone—

CLICK.

“Jade? I forgot my pen on the counter—OH FOR THE LOVE OF—”

Azul stood, horrified, in the doorway, eyes wide as his soul visibly tried to escape his body.

Jade didn’t even blink.

“Ah, Azul. A touch late, wouldn’t you?”

You groaned, pulling away, flushed and flustered.

“Mood’s gone Jade.”

And you left. Jade exhaled slowly, turning to Azul.

“Well, this has been deeply inconvenient.”

Later at night in your dorm, Jade brought you tea, pulled you gently into his lap, and whispered against your ear:

“I’m deeply sorry about what’s happened, shall I pick up where we left off, my pearl? The tension has only… intensified~”

Vil Schoenheit

You were in Vil’s room, sitting on the vanity table back pressed against his mirror, while he pressed kisses along your collarbone, undoing the first buttons of your shirt with a grace that should’ve been illegal.

“You’re intoxicating,” he murmured. “Every time I look at you, I forget the whole world.”

He pushed your hair aside, teeth grazing your shoulder—when—

BANG.

“Vil! I can’t find the hair—AH!!”


Epel stopped mid-sprint through the door, immediately turning bright red.

“WHAT IN—SWEET APPLE SAUCE I’M OUT—!”

He bolted. The door slammed.

You stared at Vil. Vil stared at the ceiling with the expression of someone trying very hard not to break something.

You cleared your throat and stepped off the vanity.

“Yeah… the mood’s gone. I think I should go.”

You left before Vil could respond.

He was silent for a long moment. Then:

“Epel. You are on cleaning duty for six months.”

That night, he returned to you with roses and your favorite chocolates.

“No more interruptions. I promise.”

Malleus Draconia

You were curled in Malleus’s lap beneath the stars, tucked in the garden. The night air was warm. His hand caressed your waist. His voice was low and thick with desire.

“You’re… dangerous to me, my love.”

His eyes glowed as he leaned in slowly, reverently, lips just brushing yours—

CRASH.

“WAHH—WAKASAMA!!! I HEARD—ARE YOU UNDER ATTACK—OH SEVENS—!!”

Sebek exploded from the bushes like a gremlin on fire.

Malleus froze mid-kiss. You choked on a squeak. Sebek’s eyes were wide in horror as he turned full crimson.

“I—I—IT WAS FOR YOUR SAFETY, MY LORD— I DIDN’T MEAN TO—”

You pulled away, wiping your lips.

“Thanks Sebek… the mood is gone.”

And with a blush and sigh, you walked off.

Malleus blinked once.

Then twice.

“Sebek.”

“YES WAKASAMA!?”

“You are forbidden from speaking for the next forty-eight hours.”

Later, Malleus appeared in your window with glowing green eyes and a velvet box.

“Shall I make the stars sing for you tonight? No interruptions this time, I promise…”

..............................................................................................................................

HERE IS THE PART 2!!! Now back I said!!!

[mrsbarnesblog]

˖˚⊹ old habits

➤ summary: you call Rafe out when he acts disrespectfully

➤ w/c: 1.5k.

➤ warnings: themes of toxic masculinity, emotional confrontation

➤ a/n: really wanted to be a part of @zyafics campaign, and I hope that other writers will consider doing it too <3

masterlist

The thing between you and Rafe was still new and fresh—only a few times going out on dates, lingering touches, and way too many moments that were more than just friendly.

Since the first time you had met him, you thought that he had grown to be a better person. He tried to change some of his old habits to become more mature. And you truly saw that, and it was a reason why you even started to catch feelings. But there were still times when he struggled, when some of the traits of that old toxic Rafe were slipping through, either because it was too hard to control things that he had been taught from a young age or because he truly didn’t see himself being in the wrong. 

That day he invited you to the new cafe near the beach on the mainland, saying that it was the best one. For you, Rafe was a gentleman. He picked you up, helped you to get in and out of his truck, complimented your dress and your hair, and let you hold his upper arm when he was leading you to the entrance.

He opened the door for you, and the place was dimly lit with yellow tones and just radiated warmth. It was a little bit too loud with people sitting everywhere, but if the place was good, you didn’t mind that one bit. You looked back at Rafe, sharing a smile, until the young hostess stepped in front of you. 

“I’m so sorry, but as you may see, we’re full right now. You may sit here until one of the tables is free.” With a polite smile, she gestured to the side. “The waiting time will be around fifteen to twenty minutes, if that’s okay with you.” 

You nodded to her words without hesitation. “That’s totally fine.” 

But beside you, Rafe let out a small breath. Not quite a sigh, more like a scoff. He raised an eyebrow and looked the girl up and down with something colder in his expression than you would’ve preferred.

“You’re telling me you can’t fit two people in? It’s not even full in here.” She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, briefly looking at you to figure out how to react. Rafe’s voice wasn’t loud, but you knew how intimidating and cold he might be, especially to people who were not used to it.

“Rafe.” You said his name sharply, tugging his bicep once in hope that he would let it go. 

He glanced at you, then back at the hostess, not getting the problem that you seemed to have. “We’re literally standing here, dressed nicely, just asking for a table. I’m not trying to be a dick. I'm just saying, you could make it work if you actually wanted to.” You didn’t wait for her to respond. You took a step back, slowly removing your hand from his arm.

“I’ll be outside.” You said. No emotion in your voice, hands already folded across your chest. 

You sat at the bench outside, one leg thrown over another, looking at the ocean and debating just simply going back home. Rafe walked out a few minutes later, with hands buried in the pockets of his pants, looking at you like he genuinely could not understand your behavior. 

“Are you seriously mad at me?”

“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.” You said calmly, not even sparing him a glance. 

“For what? I didn’t even say anything bad. She was the one who couldn’t do her job properly.”

Your head snapped towards him with eyebrows raised in surprise. “No.” You said sharply, taking him aback. “You were being an asshole because you didn’t get what you wanted. She was doing her job, Rafe.” 

His brows knit. “Jesus, I wasn’t an asshole—I was just calling her out.”

“Calling her out for what, Rafe? For not breaking policy? For not giving you special treatment?” He looked away, jaw clenching. His hand reached his head to rub over his buzzed hair in frustration, while you simply looked at him, seeing the conflict that he had. Part of him clearly knew you were being reasonable, that he might’ve stepped over the line, but the rest of him, the louder part, wanted to be right. Wanted to win.

“I’m not dating someone who thinks talking down to people makes him important.” You said firmly, your voice low and calm but hard to let him know how serious that situation was for you. “That’s not cute. That doesn’t make you look cooler or whatever. That’s not something I tolerate.”

Rafe exhaled hard through his nose, briefly throwing his head back in frustration. “You’re making it sound like I screamed at her or something. I was just—I don’t know—frustrated.”

“Yeah, and she was working. Probably scared of losing her job because of kooks who talk down to her every day. Probably already dealing with a bunch of other men who think that they are better than everyone and that other people owe them something.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t do that.”

You stood up, stepping closer with your heels softly clicking against the wood. You squinted your eyes slightly, tilting your head to the side now that you were almost the same height. “Do what?”

“Make me out to be some kind of monster.”

“I’m not.” You shot back. “But if you don’t like how I make you sound by just talking about your actions, maybe ask yourself why instead of getting defensive.”

The silence that followed stretched long between you. You crossed your arms tighter, mostly to keep yourself from softening, because, God, you wanted to. Because part of you knew that he didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but still addressing the problem was important to prove to him that the said problem existed. 

You watched the gears turning behind his eyes, jaw tight, hands buried deep in his pockets. He looked off toward the ocean like maybe the answer was out there, like it could help him to understand how to break the default settings that were engraved in his brain. 

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” Rafe admitted finally, his voice quieter now, and you could hear the edge of hesitation. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it. That I was acting like…” He trailed off, and you knew what he meant. Like Ward.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.” You said softer now, but still steady. “You don’t even notice when you slip. I know that you’re trying to be better. I see it, but I also need you to acknowledge that sometimes you can still be mean, that sometimes you’re in the wrong. Otherwise we won’t work out.”

He looked at you then, as if hurt for a second, because for the part of him, it sounded like a threat or like a challenge that he didn’t want to accept.

“I don’t want to be that guy.” He said after a moment. “I’ve been trying. You know I have.”

“I know. That’s why I’m still standing here and not leaving.” You stepped closer, but you didn’t reach for him.

“But I’m not going to coach you through being a decent person every time you slip. You have to want it for yourself, not just to keep me happy, because I’m telling you right now, Rafe…” You met his eyes, staying your ground. “If that’s the man you choose to be, I will walk away. Even if I don’t want to.”

His throat bobbed in a nervous swallow, his eyes darted away, then back to yours, as if he was trying to measure if you were bluffing. And when a few seconds passed, when you looked at him steadily, waiting for an answer, he turned and walked back toward the café.

You watched him through the front windows when he hesitated near the hostess stand, tugging awkwardly at the expensive watch on his wrist, and then leaned in to speak to the girl. Her face was surprised at first, then softened as he continued to talk, before she nodded a few times, still slightly hesitant, and said something back to him. 

When Rafe returned back to you, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little bit, though his jaw clenched when he rubbed the back of his neck and stopped in front of you like he wasn’t sure where to begin.

“I apologized. Told her I was out of line.”

You gave him a small nod. “Thank you.”

He shifted on his feet, nervous. “She said the table will be ready in ten.” You nodded again, waiting for him to continue. “You still wanna eat with me?” He asked, almost hesitant, like a boy who'd just been scolded.

“I do.” His lips stretched in a small smile, eyes glimmering with something like surprise and maybe a bit of shyness that you caught every once in a while. Rafe stepped closer, offering you his hand, and you playfully rolled your eyes, smiling back and interlacing your fingers. “Now I’m about to order the whole damn menu, Cameron. And it better be good.” 

[spearofheaven]

GETTING STICKY.ᐟ — spider-man! toji fushiguro

SUM. breaking the bed with your superhero boyfriend

CONTENTS. 18+ content, MDNI. x fem reader. 800 words. unprotected p in v. bed breaking. improper use of webs (mentioned once). dom toji. use of baby and doll.

A/N. no i haven’t worked on the long fic 💔😣

SPIDER-MAN! TOJI whose strength had always been a trending topic in the morning’s edition of the daily bugle after he lifted a subway train with just his web-covered hands without so much as breaking a sweat.

forums on reddit were dedicated to calculating just how much that weighed, each user trying to figure out just how much the masked hero could lift before unanimously coming to one conclusion: spider-man was really fucking strong.

..all dedicated to the same toji who lost track of just how strong he was whenever he was inside of you.

“atta baby, there we-” toji pushed his cock into your slick cunt, pushing through that initial ring of resistance until he managed to bottom out, “-go.”

but then again, how was he supposed to remember when you squeezed around his cock like you wanted to milk him dry? your walls seemed to take the shape of his shaft with ease, gripping around him like a tight vice.

toji gave you some grace—starting off with slow, shallow thrusts. but then you started to whine and wiggle against him. impatient as ever. “go faster, baby, please.” he couldn’t bring himself to deny your needy request, not with the way your hips started moving back, trying to meet him halfway.

even with the webs securely binding your hands together, you were eager. eager to move, eager to grasp whatever you had next to you.

“yeah?” plap! “you can take what i give you? no runnin’ away?” plap! you nodded almost eagerly along to his words, “i can take it, i can take it, toji!”

“yeah, you can,” he almost affirmed, tip kissing your cervix every time he bottomed out. “take everything i give you so well, doll,” toji leaned down, pressing a kiss onto your shoulder while he kept rutting into you.

“f-fuck, just like that! just like that!” your moans bounced off the paper-thin walls, almost molding into the perfect symphony with each loud squelch! and fwap fwap fwap! your slick coated his shaft completely, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets.

“just like that?” toji punctuated his mocking words with a slam of his hips, “just like that? yeah, baby?” you nodded like a bobblehead, burying your head into your pillow to attempt to muffle your moans.

the bed started shaking underneath the two of you, screws clobbering onto the floor. toji didn’t seem fazed that you were sinking inch by inch, fingers rubbing at your clit with quick precision.

“toji, toji, toji!” each moan of his name was like pure music to his ears, his hands instinctively gripping your waist all that much tighter.

“toji, the bed!” your warning came out a loud mewl, finally registering in his mind. your fingers dug into the silk sheets underneath, eyes rolling back while your cunt gushed around his shaft like a broken faucet.

the bed in question creaked on its hinges, headboard slamming against the wall with each sinful thrust of his hips. “mhm, what about the bed?” he drawled out, “use your words, doll.”

before you had the chance to respond, the bed gave out. one minute you were several feet above ground and the next, you were on the floor with what remained of your bed frame. “…the bed’s gonna break. again.”

“whoops,” the bark of laughter that left his lips let you know just how sorry he was. you smacked the side of his arm, only making the man laugh harder. much to your displeasure. you looked around at all the scattered pieces of chipped wood on the floor, the wooden frame completely annihilated.

“where are we supposed to sleep tonight?” the million dollar question. toji simply shrugged, leaning over and pressing a kiss on your shoulder. he seemed more worried about undoing the strings of webs on your hands.

“i’ll fix it tomorrow. don’t worry so much, baby,” toji uttered, completely distracted and blissfully unaware. his lips moved up to gently suck on your collarbone.

“toji, there isn’t anything to fix.” you gestured to the mess surrounding the two of you, making him look up.

“huh,” he noted, standing up from his spot before extending his hand out to you. toji cleared a little path onto the corner of the room where the two of you wouldn’t get a splinter, “we can just buy another one tomorrow.”

“the guy at the furniture store’s gonna give us a weird look. it’s our third time buying a bed frame in less than a year.” the man had already questioned the two of you when you went two months ago with this same problem.

his hands went down to rest on your hips, holding you close to him, “so?” even with a broken bed, the man was completely unbothered. “we’re giving back to the community ‘n stuff.”

and almost like that wasn’t nearly bad enough, a bright yellow noise complaint notice was plastered smack middle onto your creaky, unfixed door the next morning.

the sales clerk at the furniture didn’t seem to take it the same way when the two of you walked in the next day, immediately giving you both a dirty look. “another one? the last was supposed to be heavy duty.”

you wanted the ground to swallow you full.

and toji simply seemed amused. his scar stretched as his lips curled into a subtle smirk, like he was proud of himself, “we need a titanium one. last one wasn’t that heavy duty.”

[pitchsidestories]

Three weddings and one new love II Patri Guijarro x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 2169

summary: Patri and Reader cross paths at three weddings. Each meeting brings them closer, but is it enough for something real to begin?

author's note: hi, like everyone else, we absolutely loved all the woso weddings and inspiration struck. We hope you enjoy the fanfic that came from it. <3

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

Lola and Cristina’s wedding was in full swing.

“Patri, do you remember her?” Leila’s question was innocent enough, but when the midfielder caught sight of you, she nearly choked on the champagne she’d been sipping.

Of course, Patri remembered. How could she not? But somehow, you were even more beautiful than she’d allowed herself to recall.

Noticing the brunette’s stunned expression, you laughed, light and effervescent, like the bubbles rising in your glass: “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Nice to see you again. It’s been a while.”, Patri said, recovering quickly. The midfielder felt the warmth rising to her cheeks. Normally, she was cooler, more composed. She blamed the heat. And the drinks.

“It’s nice to see you too.”, you replied, a soft smile on your lips.

“Are you enjoying the party so far?”, the Barcelona player asked, her voice casual, but her eyes lingering just a little too long.

“I do. What about you? I really like your dress.”, you said.

The sleeveless black dress hugged her figure effortlessly, the ink of her tattoos accentuating her sun-warmed skin.

Patri tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous smile playing on her lips: “Oh, thank you.” She paused, gesturing vaguely. “And yeah, Lola and Cristina know how to throw a party.”

You took a moment to absorb the atmosphere. Laughter drifted through the garden, and even usually composed Alexia was dancing in her pink dress, barefoot and carefree, with the bride.

“I’m not usually a fan of weddings, but this one’s something special.”, you confessed.

Patri grinned: “That’s a big compliment, then. Can I get you another drink?”

“Oh. Yes, please.”, you responded, returning her smile.

Like a true gentlewoman, she returned with fresh drinks for you both, gently clinking her glass against yours. “Cheers.” “Cheers.”

“It’s really beautiful.”, Patri murmured, her eyes scanning the joyful chaos unfolding around you.

You followed her gaze. The couple radiated happiness, surrounded by friends, laughter and the soft golden light of early evening.

Knowing them as well as you did, especially Lola, the goalkeeper who’d stood by you when everything in your career was falling apart, you felt a quiet swell of emotion. “I agree.”, you said, your voice low.

Patri turned to you, a playful tilt to her head:” Would you like to dance?”

Her brown eyes caught yours, deep and steady, and something warm unfurled in your chest. You hesitated, nerves fluttering at the edges.

“Oh, um… sure,” you nodded, speaking almost to yourself.

As you stepped onto the dance floor, the DJ smoothly shifted from a fast rhythm to a slow, melodic song. You both paused, smiling, a little shy, a little amused, before stepping closer.

Her hand found yours, and the space between you disappeared. The movement was easy, natural, like you’d rehearsed it without knowing. There was no need to speak, your bodies seemed to anticipate each other, flowing in quiet synchrony.

The moment, soft and perfect, was suddenly broken by the arrival of Irene, her expression tight with concern.

You watched as Patri’s eyebrows knotted together, looking over to her teammate.

“Patri? Can you help me find Mateo?”, Irene asked, the slightest hint of panic in her voice.

“I…”, Patri hesitated, looking back and forth between you and Irene until she nodded firmly: “Yeah, sure.”

She offered you an apologetic smile: “Sorry.”

You waved her off casually: “It’s fine. I need to check on Andrea, anyway, looks like she had enough to drink.”

With a final wry smile, Patri disappeared into the crowd. She eventually found Mateo several minutes later, sitting calmly beneath a table, hidden by the tablecloth and happily playing with his toy cars. The relief on Irenes face when she saw her son was immeasurable.

Happy to have been of help, Patri returned to where she left you earlier but you were gone.

“Ale? Do you have y/n’s number?”, she asked Alexia who was seated on a table nearby, sipping white wine.

She raised her eyebrows as she took another sip: “I don’t. Why?”

“I…”, Patri started. But what was she supposed to say? That she couldn’t find you after circling the parameter of the big yard three times already. That she felt something between you two and didn’t understand why you had just left?

Before she could find the right words, Leila chimed in, her eyes lighting up with excitement: “You want to see her again?!”

“Yeah?”, Patri answered carefully.

This caused Alexia shoot her a knowing, slightly pitying look. Patri wished she hadn’t even asked at all.

Summer break meant wedding season in the womens football world, so the next ceremony was only a couple days later. It felt like the celebrations were never-ending. But you weren’t complaining, not when it gave you another excuse to wear something fancy.

You were stuck in some small-talk with two men you didn’t know, and it quickly became clear that they were more interested in each other’s opinions than anything you had to say. You stood there politely, twirling the stem of your champagne flute between your fingers and pretending to listen. At least until a bright red jumpsuit caught your attention.

It was Patri, smiling carefully as she walked towards you.

You smiled back at her, grateful to have an excuse to leave the one-sided conversation: “You again. I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.”

“Hi, I didn’t know you knew the brides.”, Patri greeted you and as she took in your uncovered arms added: “… or that you had any tattoos.”

You smirked at her, catching the way her gaze lingered on your body: “Wow, you underestimate me, Guijarro.”

“I did. I thought…”, she started, her cheeks turning pink.

“You thought I was just the girl next door? I feel like I should be offended.”, you teased, leaning in with a grin.

Clearing her throat, the midfielder defended herself: “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.”, you said quickly, hoping to ease her visible nervousness.

Biting her lip, Patri murmured an apology.

“Yours are really pretty.”, you admitted, lightly tracing the inked lines on her upper arm with your finger. Was this still just friendly chatter between guests, or had it already tipped into flirting? You suspected the latter. You couldn’t help it, the banter between you was too good to resist.

Under your attention, she muttered: “Oh, thanks.”

“Although the tiger might be a bit cheesy.”, you added with a wink.

Pretending to be offended, the brunette shot back: “What? No, it’s cool.”

You chuckled: “Uh-huh.”

Then the mood shifted. A memory surfaced, the last wedding where you’d seen her, and how abruptly it had ended. Your voice softened: “Sorry for vanishing like some kind of Cinderella the last time we saw each other.”

“Is that a thing you do?”, Patri asked, her tone cautious. She didn’t want to be hurt again. The feeling of being left behind was still raw, it hadn’t been a few days ago.

You shook your head.: “Vanishing and leaving a pretty girl behind? No, usually not. At least, not on purpose.”

“So, I don’t have to be scared you’ll disappear again?” she questioned, watching you hopefully.

“No, I won’t do that.” You smiled, heart open. “You want me to stay?”

“I do.”, Patri confirmed, her voice barely a whisper. “I even asked the others for your number.”

“You did?”

Here was the thing, you had all played for the national team together. But after you left for England and refused any further call-ups, not much in the Spanish federation had truly changed. Just fragments. Bits and pieces. And there was still so much left to be desired. Which meant, of course, that none of her football friends would have your contact details.

“I can give you mine now,” you offered, pulling a pen from your small bag and scribbling your number on her arm.

“Thanks,” she responded softly.

“You’re welcome. I’m rarely in Spain these days, but I’m here most summers.”, you explained.

Nervously, she glanced at you, her voice quiet as she hinted at the dance you never got to finish last time: “That’s... fine. I just still owe you a dance.”

“You should do that now,” you replied with a smirk, nodding towards the dance floor. “One of my favourite songs is playing.”

Patri shrugged as if this opportunity was as good as any: “Okay, then.”

You took her hand in yours and led her onto the dance floor.

The music surrounded you both as you started to sway. Patri’s hands settled naturally on your waist, guiding your movements with the rhythm of her own body. She moved smoothly, like water. Almost like the way she played football, you thought.

“You’re surprisingly good at this.”, you smirked.

Patri smiled, lifting an eyebrow: “Surprisingly, huh?”

“Yeah, I mean you’re maestro on the field but the dance floor is very far from a pitch.”, you teased, biting your lip.

She tilted her head, considering for a moment and then said with a slightly challenging tone: “Can’t I be both?”

Her face was so close to yours now, the sunlight catching in her deep brown eyes.

“You can be even more than that.”, you murmured, your gaze locked on her.

You knew she stared at your lips. You waited for her to lean in. Maybe she was waiting for you too. The kiss never came.

And then the moment was gone. You had to leave right after this dance, but you had no idea how much chaos your exit would leave behind.

Later that night, with the music still playing and drinks still flowing, a fine sprinkle of rain began to fall over the wedding and Alexia came running towards her friend group, her high heels dangling from her fingers: “Olga! Leila! Patri is crying… and she won’t tell me why!”

They found her outside, sitting on the venue steps, quietly sobbing and mascara smudging underneath her eyes.

Leila crouched down beside her: “What happened?”

“I had her number but it vanished… just like her.”, Patri sniffed, pointing towards the fading writing on her arm that was almost completely washed away by a mix of sweat and rain.

“Aw, cariño…”, Olga sighed, brushing strands of hair out of Patris face.

“It’s okay. I’m sure we can get her number somehow.”, Leila said softly.

“Promise.”, Olga added, squeezing her shoulder.

Patri wiped her eyes and looked up to them. The crying had finally stopped.

The third wedding was Laia’s. Just as beautiful as the last two ceremonies and with a lot of familiar faces on the guest list.

When you walked in, you noticed one table right away.

“Patri. Get up and stop pouting.”, Ona ordered, elbowing her in the ribs.

Patri was seated next to her, frowning into her champagne glass.

“She’s here!”

“Stop messing with me.”, the midfielder muttered, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Unmoved by her teammate’s theatrics, Ona gave a half-smile: “I’m not. She and Laia go way back to their Atlético days. So come on now.”

Patri’s head shot up: “Wait, are you serious?”

With a sigh, Ona grabbed her arm and gently tugged her to her feet. She turned her toward the other side of the courtyard, where you stood talking to the bride, laughing in the golden dusk.

“I am.”, Ona said simply.

Laia’s voice rang out beside you, warm and sure. She rested her arm on your shoulder: “I hope you’ll come visit me in Barcelona soon.”

You smiled, hugging her close: “Of course I will.” The promise was meant for her, but when your eyes flicked past her shoulder and found the one woman you'd seen at the last two weddings, your heart quietly wondered if the promise might stretch to her too.

Beaming, Laia announced: “I’ll go find my husband.”

“Okay.”

Their happiness was contagious, easy, natural. It was beautiful to see someone you’d known so long marry the man who had cried the moment she stepped into view at the ceremony.

You and Laia shared one last hug. Then, as you turned, you almost stumbled straight into Patri.

“Oh, hi.”, you mumbled, nerves fluttering in your chest.

“Hey.”, she replied, calm on the outside, though her heart was pounding. Three weddings. Third time’s the charm, maybe this was the moment, like in all the films and books.

You gestured toward the happy couple: “Laia and I were just talking, I’ve got to visit her in Barcelona soon.”

“Yeah,” Patri said. “It’s great to have her back.”

You nodded. “You lot are lucky.”

“We are.”

You hesitated, searching her face: “What if I want to see you too, not just Laia?”

Her expression lit up, hope blooming across her pretty face: “You want to visit me?”

“Yeah.” You smiled. “I really do.”

“I’d like that.”, Patri answered, and stepped a little closer. She kissed your cheek soft, deliberate, her lips brushing just a little too close to yours.

Three weddings and maybe, this was the first chapter of your own little love story.

[svckmyballzfr]

“I know it’s over”

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Maki Zenin!reader

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 - “Where else I can go” Tw: neglect, Injury, obsession, abandonment, Torture, Abuse, SA, Death, Suicidal thoughts, Suicide, brief description about [name]’s eyes sorry (this is a disclaimer for the whole story + sorry about the bad grammar and typos, I won’t rewrite until I’m bored)

[Somewhere In Tokyo]

The sun was setting as it rained, the streetlight outside of the school buzzed as it flickered.

Heavy breathing was heard in the hallways of said, school “Well Well , if it isn’t Yuta Okkotsu my favorite weakling”

“Don’t you come near me” Yuta said shakily as three boys surrounded him in the empty classroom.

“Oh come on, don’t play hard to get” The bully said with a smirk.

“I said don’t …” Yuta said trying to said tuff but failing miserably as the bully itched closer to him. “Come on I just wanna slug you one more time before i graduate!” The bully laughed and his little minions joined in.

“Stop it..” Yuta muttered as he clenched his other arm looking down.

“Since it’s our last time together, maybe I should just kill you” The bully said as he walked closer.

“D-don’t touch me! RIKA” Yuta said in a panicked tone looking up as the bully had gotten closer with his hands towards him. A large shadow then appeared behind the bully and he froze with a wavering presence behind him.

“hm? Whatcha say?” The bully asked confused as large hands with sharp nail and went to both sides of his face. “Argh!” The bully let out a noise as his face was pulled back behind him.

….

The rain got heavier outside as yuta had crouched by the walls of the classroom muttering “I’m sorry” Blood leaks from the locker next to him slowly and it slowly opens to a mangled body.

Yuta was now sitting in a chair, in a room full of Tailsman with small lamps surrounded in the dark room to give light. He looks up staring at all the Tailsman that reached to the dark never ending ceiling.

….

“A complete cover up and a secret execution? Boy that’s some story” Gojo said unamused “The child in question did consent though.” One of the higher ups replied but Gojo quickly responded “He’s underage, just sixteen years old, and who knows how many he have cursed”

“So you’ll take him?” One of the old hags of the higher ups asked “Yes, Yuta Okkotsu will attend Jujustu high school.”

….

Yuta had his head down with his arms crossed still sitting on the chair “You make this in shop class?” Gojo said infront of him holding up a twisted knife “Yuta Okkotsu..” he finished “I-it used to be a knife..” he said softly

“I tried killing myself” He hugged his knees closer and slowly looked up “But…Rika wouldn’t let me. Gojo just stared at him “Kinda dark.” he tossed the twisted knife away. “guess what? You’re starting at a new school today.”

…

The next day at Yuta got ready for the day where he would Jujustu high! He got to walking in the hallways tiredly with his eye bags shining in the sun.

“Did you hear about the new transferred student coming today? I heard he stuffed 4 of his classmates in a locker” Panda said while he walked with [name] and Inumaki

“You mean he killed them?” [name] asked “Tuna mayo” Inumaki added “Nah, gravely injured”

“If he’s cocky I’ll put him in his place” [name] said holding her bag on her shoulder. “Bento flakes” Inumaki sighed

“Students of all grades!” Gojo said exaggerating with hand motions “We have a new student! Give him a hand!!!!!”

‘God it’s too damn early for his bullshit..’ [name] said with a her head leaning on her hand, with her legs crossed.

“not one hand…” he said sadly

“Heard the kid’s a real wet blanket, the last thing I need is an another moody rookie to look after.” (Whatever that means..)

“Salmon”

Panda hums in agreement with Inumaki, Gojo sighs and puts his hand out “Oh well then! You can come on in now!”

Yuta then opens the sliding door and as soon as his foot stepped in the classroom they sensed his cursed aura and ever stepped he took it got stronger. Panda tensed up and got aggressive and [name] eyes widen, a large menacing curse was sensed behind him and made a strange noise while facing the 3 students, [name] unzipped her bag, Inumaki put a hand on his tall collar getting ready to use his cursed technique.

Bruce Wayne had never truly possessed a reason to resent [name]—not a logical one, at least. He simply did. Or, more accurately, the reason was etched into [name]’s eyes: the exact same eyes as her mother’s.

Every time Bruce looked at her, he saw those eyes staring back—haunted by their shape, their color. He recoiled, not out of hatred, but from something far more : fear. Because he knew precisely why they unnerved him.

Her mother—the woman he loved—had abandoned him. Abandoned the Waynes. She had walked away from the life they had built, forsaking them for her Clan—a group that viewed weakness as expendable and loyalty as conditional. A Clan that had never seen her as a person, only as power.

That memory alone, of her turning her back—festered inside Bruce like a wound that refused to heal. The thought of her always lingered, sharp and unforgiving, and [name] carried that echo with every glance.

So when Bruce received a call from Naobito Zenin, irritation boiled in his chest. He instructed Alfred to sever any lines of communication. He didn’t want to hear from them. But curiosity clawed at him, and eventually, he took the call.

“Maybe M/n is finally ready to crawl back. Fine. I’ll entertain it—but I’ll make her work for it,” he had thought, even allowing a slight smile at the idea of seeing her again. Just like old times… M/n, Satoru, and him—together. A family of sorts, fractured but familiar.

But that smile shattered when Naobito’s voice turned somber. M/n was dead—she had died months ago. And now, there was a child. A daughter. His daughter.

He could barely choke out a response. “What.”

It was too much. Jason’s resurrection. The chaos of the Red Hood. And now, this?

Bruce had Gordon collect the girl from the airport and order a DNA test immediately. He needed proof—needed something solid to stand on.

The results were : the child was his. And… impossibly, she was Satoru Gojo’s as well???

The moment she stepped through the manor doors, Bruce hadn’t yet been briefed. But when his eyes met hers—one luminous blue like Gojo’s, the other the rich hue of M/n’s—he knew.

Even beyond the strange eye color, everything else was him. The cheekbones. The jawline. Even her posture. She stood tall for a six-year-old—too tall. But those eyes... they unraveled him.

He couldn’t be near her.

If he stayed, he feared he might crumble. Or worse… lash out at something so heartbreakingly innocent.

“I’m sorry for your mother’s passing,” he murmured, voice hollow and clipped, before retreating to the Batcave.

There, beneath the weight of grief he’d never prepared for, Bruce collapsed to the floor. Hands gripping the cold ground, lungs burning, air slipping through him like smoke. Pressure mounted on his chest, like unseen hands crushing his ribs. His limbs trembled. His heart thundered like a war drum in his ears.

“No, no, no, no… please stop…” he thought as panic overtook him. His vision tunneled, lips dry, mind spinning into a storm of sorrow and helplessness.

.

.

.

.

Dick never had anything against [name], he knew her mother was really close to Bruce and had seen the woman before plenty of times as robin and he couldn’t help but grow fond of her. I mean that’s basically his mother! So was nice, caring and also helped him when he had a problem with something between him, and Bruce! He could’ve hate her, never! But that changed when she had left, when he was nightwing. How could she? For that clan.

So, when Dick was in the kitchen he had got surprised by a voice behind him and when he turned he had thought it was M/n but smaller! Those eyes. Blue and e/c eyes…he got scared and kicked the poor child.

‘I mean who is this child?? Why do they have M/n eyes, and Gojo’s eyes…’ he soon snapped out of it when he seen blood dripping from her head.

hey sorry I’m so sorry…” Dick said and helped her up.

“I-It’s o-ok I’m a big girl..” [name] says as she wipes the streak of blood of off her forehead.

“Let me-“ Before he finishes he gets a text from Alfred [Master Bruce has passed out in the batcave. Please hurry here master Dick.]

“You said you were a big girl right?” He said turning his head to her. [name] nods her head eagerly.

“Then you’ll be fine handling it. I have to go. When I come back we can go to the arcade.” Dick offered a smile then left and hurried to the batcave where Alfred stood with a worried expression.

….

The next day Bruce had woke up in his bed when dick sat near with his hands on his face.“Bruce.” Dick stood up when Bruce had sat up on the edge of the bed. “What happ-“

“I can’t be a father for that girl.” Bruce interrupted and Dick froze and looked confused “The girl little that just came to the manor. I can’t be her father. That isn’t my daughter.”

Dick just stared at Bruce with a frown “Bruce-“ Bruce silently began to cry with a hand on his eyes “I can’t..” he said shakily, dick sat next to him with a hand on his back “Ok.”

Of course Dick didn’t approve of this, I mean who would??? But he could obviously see that Bruce isn’t in the right state but It’s ok he’ll be a big brother for her to lean on and see as a father…one day. Right?

.

.

.

.

Jason hated [name].

Or at least, that’s what he told himself every single time he caught her in the corner of his eye, every time someone so much as brought up her name. He’d scoff, roll his eyes, cross his arms, and say something cruel like-

“She’s a spoiled bratty bitch whose mother was a dumb whore that got herself killed.”

He said it like it was truth. Cold, harsh truth.

But deep down—where the rage throbbed and the loneliness curled into something even colder—Jason knew he was full of it. Every time he dragged her mother’s name through the mud, he was really just trying to bury how much he missed her. M/n was the only person who ever made him feel like more than a burden. She treated him like he mattered—like he was hers.

He cried harder than anyone when he found out she died. No one saw it. He made sure of that. But behind all the noise and anger and bravado, he wept for her. For the mother he never truly had, but almost did. Until she left. Until she abandoned him—right after he was kidnapped. After the Joker. After everything.

And now she was dead?

Jason couldn’t even look at photos of her without feeling like the world was cracking apart at the seams. He hated her for walking away. Hated her for dying. Hated how much he still loved her.

He had ignored Dick’s call two days ago. Didn’t want to hear anything that had to do with the manor. With Bruce. But something in Dick’s voice… something had kept him from deleting the message. So now here he was—back in the same house where everything had started to rot.

Dick looked like a wreck. Pale. Exhausted. Haunted.

Jason didn’t bother hiding his sneer. “What’s wrong with you, dickface?”

Dick barely looked up. “She’s dead.” His voice cracked like glass. He ran a trembling hand through his hair.

Jason blinked, confused. “Who?”

“M/n… I just wanted to tell you. She has a child. And she… she’s here.”

Dick couldn’t even finish. He left the room without another word.

Jason stood there for a long time. Heart pounding. Head spinning.

He wandered into the library, trying to escape the weight of it all. Grabbed a book—anything to pull him out of his own head. Tried to focus. Tried to not feel.

But the pages blurred. Wet. His hands were shaking.

Tears? No. No, stop that. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.

But he did. God, he did.

No mission, no alias, no mask could erase the ache of being loved—and left behind.

She had come into his life. Treated him like a son. Then left. Had a baby. A new child. And then died.

Where was his closure? Where was his chance to protect her? To yell at her? To forgive her?

Jason slammed the book shut and sat frozen, chest heaving.

Then someone bumped into him.

His book hit the floor with a dull thud.

“Oh, sorry—” a small voice stammered.

He looked down.

It was like someone had punched him in the gut.

Those eyes. One blue. One [e/c].

His hands curled into fists.

So this is who she died for? This… replacement? This child? Is this the one who got her love in the end? Got her last words? Her final breath?

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he snapped, voice low and venomous.

The girl looked down, ashamed. “...oh.”

He scoffed, bitterness thick in his throat. “Another one of Bruce’s adopted mistakes?”

“I-I’m his kid! I promise… a-and you’re my brother, right?” she said quietly, voice soft and trembling.

Jason didn’t answer. He smirked—sharp and humorless.

She thinks I’m her brother. Like she gets to call me that.

He knelt slightly, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder, watching her flinch beneath his grip. “Look, kid,” he said, voice like ice, “you’re just one of Bruce’s little distractions. And soon enough, he’ll forget about you too—just like everything else you care about. You’re not special. And I’m not your brother.”

He let her go and turned without another glance as she stumbled into the bookshelf behind her. The sound echoed like guilt.

But Jason kept walking.

And as he stormed off down the hallway, jaw clenched so tight it ached, he swore something to himself in silence.

‘You ruined the only good thing I ever had—just by being born. So don’t expect mercy. Not from me.’

Yuta explains that the Cursed Spirit is Rika, a childhood friend whom he had promised to marry when they grew up. Rika died in a freak accident and became an overprotective spirit that harms anyone who threatens him. 

During his first mission with [Name], Yuta successfully summons Rika on his own for the first time to save them from a Cursed Spirit. Three months pass in his school training, and he grows close to [Name], Toge, and Panda. One day, on a mission together, Toge and Yuta are attacked by a high-level Curse. The man behind the attack was Suguru Geto, a previous student and old friend of Gojo, who defected from the school and killed over a hundred innocent people on a mission.

Geto attempts to get Yuta on his side so they can make use of Rika, but Yuta refuses when he insults Yuta's friends due to unsettled circumstances. Geto declares war to activate a portal to the under-world: he will release a thousand Curses upon the city to remove non-sorcerer humans, as he believes them to be undeserving and beneath sorcerers. Geto's real reason for the war, however, is to distract Gojo so he can kill Yuta and add Rika to his collection of cursed spirits. Gojo realizes this upon learning of Yuta's background, and sends Inumaki and Panda back to the school to protect Yuta and Maki during the night of Geto's attack. Geto overpowers them all, leaving only Yuta conscious. Enraged at seeing his friends hurt, Yuta promises himself as a sacrifice to Rika in order to strengthen their bond. As a result, Geto is severely wounded. He is found by Gojo, who after reflecting on their past friendship, executes him.

.

.

.

.

[name] stood quietly at the edge of the room, her gaze resting on Gojo’s sleeping form. The soft rise and fall of his chest was the only proof he was still here—still breathing, still fighting. But earlier… she’d seen his face after the fighting. The way his expression cracked when he thought no one was looking. The way his hands trembled before he shoved them deep into his pockets.

Her eyes drifted to the blindfold resting against his forehead, slightly askew. With a small breath, she stepped closer, fingers twitching nervously as she reached for it. She gently lifted it from his eyes, careful not to wake him, and replaced it with her own glasses, pressing them onto his face with a little huff.

she slipped the blindfold over her own eyes.

“Gosh, how does he see with this thing?” she muttered to herself with a crooked smile. “I’m literally blind right now.”

She took a step—and promptly bumped into the wall with a soft thud.

“Ow…” she mumbled, rubbing her arm.

Laughter—low and breathy—broke the silence behind her.

She whipped around, the blindfold slipping halfway off her face. Gojo was awake. Sitting up. Watching her.

And smiling.

His eyes—those eyes—were soft and bright like sunlight scattered across an endless ocean. Their glow lit something warm and dizzying inside her chest.

“H-HUH?! THIS IS A DREAM!” [name] blurted, panicking, leaping into the weirdest stance she could think of on the spot.

“Oh wow, I’m terrified,” he teased, clapping dramatically. “Is that… the ancient Fighting Crane meets Confused Flamingo technique? Legendary.”

[name] tried to hold the pose, struggling to stay serious. “Silence! I am the blindfolded warrior, guardian of the living room!” she declared, wobbling slightly to the left.

“Well then, oh mighty warrior,” he said with a mischievous glint in his bright blue eyes, “I challenge you to a duel. But only if you can pass… the tickle trial.”

“Huh? Wait no—NO!” she shrieked as Gojo lunged, grabbing her sides with the lightest poke.

She burst into uncontrollable giggles, twisting away and finally pulling off the blindfold in a fit of laughter.

“You blue eye bastard!” she panted, catching her breath.

He sat up, smiling softly now. “Yeah, I tend to break the rules. Especially for a smile like that.”

For a moment, there was silence—the good kind. Then his voice turned gentler.

“Hey, [name]… could you take that bandage off?”

She blinked, confused. “Oh. Sure—but I kinda can’t see too good with that eye,” she murmured, fingertips brushing the edge of the gauze as she slowly peeled it away.

Her partially blind eye met his, and he stared.

“I was right,” he whispered, stepping forward with small, steady steps.

“What?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

She felt it, then. The heat of tears soaking through her shirt. His shoulders trembled against her. The strongest man she knew was quietly falling apart in her arms

“You’re my daughter.”

She froze in his embrace. And then slowly, carefully, wrapped her arms around him, like maybe, just maybe—someone loves her.

A/N || sorry for the wait but here’s the chapter!!! And boom here’s the big plot twist!!! btw name won’t have six eyes or anything, just related to gojo!! SO YES GOJO IS OUR PAPI TOO GUYS 😜 (ALSO ANOTHER AUTHOR I LOVE LIKED MY SERIES AHHHHH!!!!! TYYYYYYY ILYSM (I follow you😝) Also about the genetics thing, M/n genes pull the stronger genes into [name] ,but there is a possible, a little chance that if there is a third party, their genetics can also be in said baby (not logically obvious)

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[rokiibrok]

Gentle Scratches

Smut with a plot.

Caleb x you

synap: After getting bruised in a fight with wanderers, Caleb offers to clean you up, leading to undeniable sexual tension.

The phone in your back pocket vibrated repeatedly. When you finally took it out, a very enthusiastic voice greeted you.

“Hey, pipsqueak, what are you up to?” You could almost imagine him twirling his hair like some excited teenage girl.

“Running a few errands, I hope you’re still free after,”

“I already cleared the rest of my schedule for you,” which wasn’t as easy as he made it sound.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled, tucking the phone between your shoulder and ear.

He let out a slow, exaggerated sigh. " Boring colonel paperwork," His pen now twirling in his fingers.

"I would have thought you'd always be on your feet, stressing about something," you replied with a teasing tone.

“No, most of the time-” He paused. You could hear a faint knock before another voice started speaking. They sounded almost panicked as they rushed their words out. But you couldn’t make out a single sentence. “Sorry, pipsqueak, I have to go. Make sure to call me when you get to Skyhaven,”

You responded with a quick will do before ending the line.

You finally finished all your errands, but unfortunately, a hunter never gets a day off. Shortly after your watch pinged, Wanderers appeared. You quickly pulled out your gun, keeping an eye out for the fleeing people while also trying to contain the Wanderers and protect the rest of the city. The fight ended quickly, but you didn’t come away unscathed. Keeping people safe while fighting wasn’t easy; you had bruises, scratches, and some minor bleeding, but nothing life-threatening. An ambulance arrived and offered to take you to the hospital, but you declined; you were used to a few bruises by now. Finally, after everything, you arrived in Skyhaven, feeling relieved to have made it.

You didn’t even have enough time to click Caleb’s name on your phone before your name was called. The excitement in his voice cut off immediately.

“Are you okay? What happened?” He rushed towards you. His hand was hovering slightly above your face. His voice was stern.

“Just a bit exhausted,” You looked up at him, his brows furrowed. His hand finally cupped your cheeks ever so gently. He turned your face left, then right, slowly. “I’m fine, I swear,” you smiled, hoping it would ease the tension a bit.

“Was it Wanderers?” The way he spoke, moments when his voice lost all playfulness, all emotion. It reminded you he wasn’t the boy you grew up with. Not anymore. You nodded a bit, grabbing his hands.

“Let’s just forget about it. I’m not hurt, just a few cuts,” he didn’t respond right away.

“Can I at least check on you when we get home?” he said softly, almost as if he were begging. His violet puppy eyes looked down at you, and no matter how many times he gazed at you with that almost hurt expression, you always fell helplessly for it.

“Of course you can,”

——————-

——————

Caleb's thumb held your chin as he turned your face. Y'all were now at his place.

“Does that hurt?” His free hand gently running down your neck then stopped at the edge of your shoulder. You almost shudder at the touch.

“No-tickles,” you giggled a bit, which earned a small smile from him

“You have dirt in your hair,” he said, backing away and ruffling your hair. His voice was tinged with a hint of sorrow. He spoke softly, his brows pointing upwards. Lips pouted so slightly, if you hadn't known him so well, you would've missed it.

“Offering to wash it?” It was almost a joke. You felt kind of icky after the fight. After all, you had rolled around in dirt. Dried blood and sweat still stuck to your skin.

“I-,” he paused before smiling. “I haven’t washed your hair since we were kids,” you hummed, smiling.

“Because you'd pull my hair,” you teased, walking to the bathroom.

“Mayyybe because you couldn’t sit still.” He followed behind you, and you didn't notice when his gaze quickly flickered across your body.

You now sat in the tub. Bubbles sitting right above your chest. With Caleb, you never felt uncomfortable. Not even while you sat naked in the tub. Bubbles covering your most intimate parts. After all, you’d sat like this time after time with Caleb.

“Little Miss Hunter,” He spoke lowly. His fingers gently rub your scalp. “Always rushing head first into danger,” His fingers somehow massaged your scalp like an expert. Gently soaking the bubbles deeper. You almost hummed at the soothing sensation. “Try not to squirm, I don’t want soap getting in your eyes,” His voice low, breathy. Heat from his mouth brushes against your neck, causing you to shiver. One hand traces the curves of your back. “Does this hurt?”

It took you a moment to respond, not because of the question, but because you were worried you'd let out a moan for an answer. “No,” the words slowly fell from your lips, hesitant yet firm.

“Look up,”

You did as told without a second thought, almost instinctively. You shifted slightly, closing your legs as a pressure began to build in your lower stomach. It was something you were somewhat used to; after all, Caleb was a handsome man. It would be strange if he didn’t make your heart race once or twice, right? Especially when he spoke so low it should’ve been a whisper. It didn’t help when one hand ran water through my hair. You took a deep breath before slowly letting it out. Your chest, wavering. Your body reacting in ways you wish it didn’t. Goosebumps covering your skin.

“Try not to squirm I don’t want soap getting in your eyes,” He laughed slowly, a teasing, low laugh that made your head spin and your eyes roll back. Both of his hands rested on your shoulders. His left hand remained still while his right hand trailed down your arm, moving only with his fingertips.

“Your entire arm is bruised.” His voice was soft and slow, like it hurt to say. That quiet worry made your thighs press tighter together. God, he cared. And that did something to you.

“I’m okay,” A breathy moan escaped your lips involuntarily. “Promise,” you added quickly. Hoping to brush past the sound. Whether he noticed, he didn’t respond. You glanced over your shoulder and took in his disheveled hair, with a few strands sticking to his forehead, likely from the stream. Then, your gaze fell on the sleeves of his shirt, which were rolled up to his forearms. You noticed the bare skin of his arms, the visible veins, faint scars, and the contours of his fingers. His hand rested on the side of the tub for support.

“Distracted?” That boyish grin drove your imagination wild. Your eyes rolled as you looked away. The teasing lit in his voice caused you to smile. You couldn’t stop it if you tried.

“You done?” Maybe if you got him out of the bathroom, the heat consuming your body would slow down.

He smiled and tilted his head a bit before pushing himself up. “Yea yea,” that smile never leaving his lips. His eyes not quite leaving you either.

The moment he left, you let out a sigh of relief. The heat in your face slowly going down. You rinsed off the soap, feeling the water trickle down your body. Your mind wanders to the memory of Caleb's slender fingers against your bare back. Imagine the feel of his hand on other parts of your body. You quickly shook your head and got dressed. Which was unsurprisingly his shirt and shorts. They almost hung on you like a blanket.

“We aren’t playing doctor all night, are we?” You teased walking out of the bathroom. Caleb is already holding a few Band-Aids.

“Not much longer, promise,” He patted the open space on the couch. “We can do whatever you want after,” his smile didn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Whatever?” you echoed with a grin, your voice lilting just enough to let him know you were poking fun.

“Anything,”

“What if you regret saying that?” You sit down next to him. He scoots a little closer. You were only teasing-or at least it’s supposed to come off as that way. He paused a little, then smiled wider this time.

“Turn your head, pipsqueak.” The Gentle tone he used affected you more than you wish. As you did so, you could feel his hands on your jaw as he laid down a band-aid. He started covering the rest of the open wounds on your body. His hand gentle around your waist. You had to look away so you wouldn’t stare.

Especially when he dropped to his knees. Settling between your legs. Putting a Band-Aid around your ankle, with all his attention focused on that one leg. His eyes looked up. Those soft violet eyes made your heart jump. Just one glance from him could make your body shudder. Not to mention the feeling between your legs returned tenfold. His fingers spread as they slowly moved up your leg, inspecting every inch.

“Relax,” His voice was soothing and intoxicating all at once.

“I... am just," You paused, taking a quick breath. “Stings,” the words sounded more like a question. You shook your head, a bit embarrassed with yourself. It felt silly-the sexual tension building had to be your imagination. Caleb's eyebrows tilted ever so slightly. He glanced back at your leg before placing one more band-aid on your upper thigh.

“When we were kids you’d always get hurt doing the silliest things,”

He sat up, still on his knees between your legs. His ruffled hair covered his face as he looked down. His attention was on the same leg. Seemingly lost in thought as his fingers ran down. Stopping right above your ankle. He let a low, breathy chuckle.

“Then you’d come crying -Caleb, oh Caleb, I think I broke my leg,” he mocked. Then, slowly, he glanced up. His hair was still blocking his face. His eyebrows raised as he looked up at you, passing his lashes and strands of brown hair. “And I’d take care of you,” his thumb caressed the middle of your leg. “Until you felt better,” His tone steady and low. A moment passed, yet you couldn’t look away. Especially when you caught glimpses of his eyes.

“Caleb,” The words came out slower and softer than you expected. He didn’t respond right away, his head dropping to your leg once more. His fingers slowly trailed up your leg. One hand around your calf while the other on top. Both hands moving in sync. Then he said your name. So low you could’ve missed it if the outside world wasn’t so quiet. His hands stopped below your knee. He seemed almost hesitant.

“Is this okay?” The question seemed simple. But in reality, he was asking, Is it okay to cross this silent boundary? The one that kept us friends? Would it be okay if we went passed the point of no return? Slowly, you nodded, holding his eye contact. It took a moment before he stood up. One hand remains on your leg. Slowly moving up until it reached the outer side of your thigh. His other arm reached out beside your head. As he places his hand on the back of the couch. You followed his movements, then stopped back at his face. Your eye darted from his lips to his eyes. The dog tag you had gifted him was dangling from his neck. Slowly swinging back and forth. Him now standing between your legs.

“I need to hear you say it.” The usual teasing edge in his voice was gone, replaced by a quiet firmness that made your breath catch

“Yes,” you paused and glanced away. Only for a second. “It’s okay,”

The hand on your leg that was hesitating before now continued to roam over your thigh. You could feel the faint warmth of his body. He tilted his head and leaned in but stopped halfway. His unsteady breath hits your bottom lip. His eye was glued to your lips. Then they slowly trailed back to your eyes. He waited like a quiet invitation. As if he were asking, “Are you sure,” one last time. Wrapping your hand around his neck, you pulled him in. His lips immediately moved once they connected. His hand on your thigh roaming up passed your ass then stopping at you lower waist. He pulled you closer to him. It was slow and passionate. Like two flickering flames slowly connecting. His free hand on your neck. He slowly tilted your head down to follow his movements. His knees were back on the ground. His pelvis was on the edge of the couch. You could feel his chest against your lower stomach.

He was the first to pull back. You could see his eyes moving around your face. His lips slightly parted, his breathing irritated. Both his hands on your waist now.

“I want you.” Your eyes wandered to his chest. “I need you Caleb.” It wasn’t long until his lips were back on yours. His fingers tightened slightly. Not hurting, just firm. You go to take off his shirt. He pulls back for a second to slide his shirt over his head. His chest was firm. His torso was bare beneath the light. Lean muscle shifted with every subtle movement, each line of his abdomen carved like stone, sharp and defined, the kind of abs that made it impossible not to stare. the taper of his waist draws the eye lower.

“You have me,” he went back into the kiss. Tongues connecting, His slight groans muffled by your lips. Both of his hands now cupping your cheeks. He leaned into the kiss. Pushing your back against the plush couch. His hips moving between your legs. Your slight groans muffled with each kiss. “You’ve always had me,” He murmured against your lips. Not fully pulling back as if he wasn't ready- wasn't capable of breaking the kiss. You pulled back to slip your shirt off. A trail of saliva follows you. Now leaving you in just his shorts. He watched your every movement. Caleb's eyes seemed awestruck. Especially when he leaned back in with a smile. “You’re beautiful,” he said, kissing the side of your neck. His hands following the curve of your waist.

“Every part of you,” His lips trailed down your neck. Leaving small kisses in a slow trail. Finally stopping at your collarbone. He paused for a moment before continuing to kiss down your body, stopping just above your chest.

“Caleb,” The way you said his name was almost whiny. Showing him how impatient you were growing by the second. It didn’t make him move any faster. In fact, all he did in response was hum a little as he started kissing up your neck. Stopping right below your ear. His hum was almost a mocking "yeah"

He kisses your jawline, then pulls you back into his chest, before scooping you off the couch. You could feel his muscles as he carried you like nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into another hot and heavy kiss. One arm wrapped around his neck. Your other hand was tangled in his hair, gripping slightly. You moaned into the kiss. His hand gripping under side of your thigh. He gently pushed your back against a wall. You leaned back, looking at him. His cheeks a slight shade of red. His head tilted ever so slightly. One of your hands rubbed down his bare chest. Keeping a slow, tantalizing speed. Feeling each ab on your fingertips while holding eye contact. He groaned at your touch. You could feel him grow tense. His eyes followed your touch. He squirmed as your fingers slid down. Without moving his head, he locked eyes with you. He was smiling. Your hand stopped at his waistband. You gently pulled at the front, making sure not to break eye contact. He whined just at your touch alone.

Putting his hands on your lower back, he pulled you into his chest before backing off the wall. He kissed you once more, like a starving man. He wasn't ashamed to be vocal, that's for sure. Using his foot, he kicked his bedroom door open. He dropped you onto his bed, your legs spreading as you looked up at him.

You leaned in, grabbing his dog tag and pulling him on top of you. He followed along, crawling over you, his arms resting on either side of your head. The tip of the tag rested on your bottom lip. You pulled at it, dragging him closer. His tongue tangled with yours. He slowly lowered himself onto you, his hands finding your waist. He moaned into your mouth as you both felt each other’s most intimate parts. The print in his pants rubbed against your clothed cunt.

He took the first initiative to take off your pants, sliding the oversized shorts off and dropping them to the floor. He paused for a moment, looking up at you. His lips spread into a slow smile as he looked down at your panties.

"You're wet," he said — almost like he couldn't believe it, like it was a dream. He leaned down, kissing your lower abdomen.

You tensed up a bit. You head rolling back on the soft pillow, one hand in his hair. Not pulling, just holding. The other holding the side of the bed. "Relax," He mumbled into your stomach. A low vibration followed his words. He trailed down, leaving kisses. One hand sneaking from your waist to your lower stomach. His fingers spread out. "I read you better than anyone,' The last word sounded venomous. Whilst the rest were low yet comforting. "I'll know if you start second-guessing," He said, kissing the lace on your panties. "I'll know," he kissed again. "So," he pushed your leg open, placing a kiss above the crease between your thigh. "Trust me,' He spoke slowly, his words sounding like a whine. Like he was silently begging.

"Of course, I trust you," the hand in his hair falling to his cheek for a moment. The way his brows rose, his red cheeks. His slightly parted lips. It made your heart rate rise. He kissed the space between your legs. Earning a low whine from you. A silent approval as he slowly slid your panties off. His eyes trailed down your legs, then back to the middle. He leaned in, not quite doing anything. Not yet, at least. His arm lying on the top of your upper thigh. Slowly he ran his thumb down your clit. you squeezed the side of the bed and looked away.

"Do you like it when I do that?" He asked, rubbing a small circle in the same area. A simple yes wouldn't be enough. It took you a moment before you nodded a meek yes, leaving your lips. Quickly followed by a soft moan. He played with your clit, enjoying your reactions. He'd been yearning for so long that he'd never want to rush this moment. Especially not with you. "I want to hear you," it took a few seconds before he continued, "Baby." His voice is enrichingly deep.

"Yes," Your words came out in a single breath.

"Okay' He leaned in. The tip of his nose on your bare pussy. "okay" He mumbled into you before leaving a kiss. Then he stuck out his tongue. Staring from the bottom and stopping a you clit. It was slow and long. Your body involuntarily jolted. Your back lifted off the bed for a second. One hand was squeezing his hair. His moans vibrating off the walls of your cunt.

"Please," you moaned, looking down at him. His eyes appeared between your legs. "Caleb." Whether it was your tone, his name, or the way you begged. Something made him snap. He ran his tongue over your soaked core one last time before finally slipping it inside you. Your breathing became ragged, your throat dry, as involuntary whines left you. Both Caleb's hands are on your thighs. You could feel the faint pressure of his Evol keeping your legs open. Your eyes rolled back. The heat in the room prickles your skin with sweat. You moaned louder when you felt a finger enter. His tongue still ravishing your pussy as he fingered you. You moaned his name. His tongue now lapping at your clit. His fingers kept a steady, slow pace. Finally, he lifted his head. The area around his mouth glistened. He watched looking at your chest rise and fall quickly. His fingers were still moving. He watched as you tried to hold eye contact. But failed as you continued to whimper. Your head falling back on the bed. His fingers wiggling inside of you. His evol letting up so he could watch you squirm in his grasp. Your legs shaking with every pump of his fingers. Then, as you reached your peak, he stopped. You heaved as your chest lifted and fell, struggling to catch your breath. After a moment you spoke.

"You’re such a tease," you said, not directing your comment at him specifically. Eyes glued to the ceiling.

"I can't help it," He sat up. "it's not my fault you sound-" He paused as you sat up and jabbed his chest gently.

"shut up," You pulled him back on top of you, pulling him into a kiss.

"So bossy," He spoke against your lips. Your hands found the buckle of his pants. He helped you slip them off alongside his drawers. Finally letting his cock spring to action.

"Oh," you leaned back on your arms. He was huge—realistically huge. It jumped as you stared, eyes tracing the curving veins. You sat up on your knees, taking a moment before gently pushing him down on the bed.

"Okay," you whispered next to his ear, your finger trailing slowly down his chest, giving him the same kind of slow torture he gave you.

You watched him whine, eyes locked on yours like he'd do anything you asked in that moment, no matter how ridiculous. He tensed when your fingers traveled back up his chest. He moaned your name and grabbed your wrist, not to stop you, just to feel you. You kept stroking his chest, and he jolted at your touch. Your fingers spread as you trailed down his chest. Feeling his chest and the ripple of his abs.

You hadn’t even touched his cock yet, and still it jumped like you did Pre-cum dripping down. "Do you... like this?" You asked hand lowering. Finally touching the tip if his cock. Cum sticking to the palm of your hand. He moaned, his fingers pulling at his hair.

"can-" He took a sharp breath as you ran your hand down his cock. "I want to feel you, baby." His voice wavered. You paused, looking up at him. His soft voice, almost a pleading tone. It made you ache to feel him. You leaned over him, catching his lips. You straddled his hips. His hands found your waist as you fervently made out. You moaned against his lips. Your hands on his bare chest holding yourself up.

"Is this okay?" You whispered, looking down at him. He took a moment before speaking.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered softly, reaching up to caress your cheeks. His thumb rubbed small circles as he continued, "I want you to feel how much I love you."

His words were all you needed as you hovered over cock. Before slowly sitting on top of him, you stopped at his tip. It stretched you open. He sucked in a deep breath his fingers tightening on your waist.

"Are you okay?" He asked with a husky tone. You nodded, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his size. Your hands are still on his chest most of your weight focused there. You slowly dropped yourself lower. A gasp left Caleb as you clenched around him.

You moaned his name when his cock twitched inside of you. His eyes still glued to you. Occasionally, trailing over your body. Taking in the sight of you on his penis. He stuttered as he said your name, head rolling back. "do you like that," His voice low.

You nodded, moving your waist. His penis moving against your walls. He whimpered, hands once again tightening.

"good job, baby," His voice was high. His breath was heavy with every word. Your hips bounced once more until you found the perfect rhythm. You moaned a bit, stifled as you covered your mouth. "let-" He interrupted himself moaning. "l-let it out," You clenched around his cock. His voice was low, husky, ragged, like each word was dragged from the back of his throat. “Just like that…” It rumbled out of him, breathless and broken, the sound heavy with want. Every syllable felt earned, like he was speaking through clenched teeth, trying to hold himself together while you moved on top of him.

"Yeah,” your words came out as a whine. One of his hands rested on the back of your neck, holding your head still to maintain eye contact. Your stomach tightened as the pressure built. Using his hand on your neck, he pulled you in for a kiss. The other hand traveled from your cheek to your lower back. Slowly, he flipped you, positioning himself on top. You let out a small gasp as your back hit the bed. “You feel so good…” You gasped, the words tumbling out between moans. Caleb slowly moved in and out of your pussy. Make sure to leave the tip in before slowly pushing back in. A plethora of wet sounds with each thrust. Caleb nodded at your words. His dog tag dangled violently, swinging with each thrust. Sweat dripped down his toned arms with each hand on either side of your head. His moans were loud, unashamed, and unrestrained, echoing in the air between you. There was nothing held back, no control—just raw, desperate sound spilling from him with every roll of his hips.

Balancing himself on one arm, he touched your lower stomach. He could feel the tip of his cock when it entered. He pushed down softly and earned an abrupt, loud moan from you. It left your lips without shame, high and needy, the kind of sound that made him look at you like he was ready to ruin you all over again. The pleasure building inside of you. You could tell he was at his climax. His words came out strangled. His breathing was heavy and whiny.

"Caleb, I'm going to-" You couldn't even finish speaking. Caleb nodded, his fingers curling around the sheets. The moment you stopped speaking your walls clenched around his penis. He moaned your name as he leaned down, catching your lips. Your moans entangle with his tongue. The world blurred for a moment as you both came undone. Legs shaking as the high slowly subsided. Caleb slowly dropped on top of you. Rolling over a little, not to crush you. Your limbs still entangled.

He took a few heavy breaths before he spoke. "Are you okay?" He seemed to speak in one breath. You nodded before turning your head to look at him. Strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. The rest is messy. His eyelids were lowered like he'd fall asleep at any moment. Unable to restrain yourself, a smile crept onto your cheeks. The euphoric moment takes hold of you.

"are you okay?"

He nodded at your question, smiling. His eye widened slightly, sparked with new life. His hand once again found your cheek. His thumb caressing your face as he held eye contact. Neither of you could speak. The moment was filled with comfortable silence as he admired you. He leaned in pressing his head onto yours.

"I love you,' He whispered before closing his eyes.

"I love you, too, Caleb." Your eyes fluttered closed as well, listening to his soft breathing.

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

This was my first time writing actual smut. So I hope you all enjoy, and if you have any requests or feedback please let me know :)

[kuncitizen]

The curtain yanks open with a dramatic rustle. You let out a squeal in surprise, whipping around as water streamed down your face. Instinctively, you slap your hands over your chest.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Good morning to you too,” Suguru hums contently, stepping in without ceremony.

His clothes are, unsurprisingly, already thrown somewhere across the bathroom. Midnight hair falls past his shoulders, a few strands plastered to his face. But most noticeable of all, is that unmistakable glint in his eyes. The infuriating, shit-eating sparkle that meant he was about to be absolutely insufferable.

“Water bill’s too high,” he adds, grabbing your shampoo from the shelf overhead.

“You just want to see me naked,” you mutter, still covering yourself with your hands like that would stop the inevitable.

“Sweetheart,” he leans in, lips brushing your shoulder, “I always want to see you naked.”

You shoot him a look. “You're such a perv.”

“And you look gorgeous right now,” he drawls, eyes trailing downwards languidly. “We should really do this more often.”

Suguru's lips press to your shoulder lazily, mouth warm even under the hot water. His kisses trail slowly, almost absentmindedly, over your collarbone as if tasting the steam off your skin.

His hands, though, remain annoyingly neutral. Adjusting the showerhead, pushing hair out of your face, lathering body wash on your back while he peppers kisses tenderly on each and every part of your body.

“So are we actually showering, or are you just going to stand there and... be you?”

“Don't act like you aren't enjoying this,” he replies, one hand casually snaked around your waist. “You could ask me to leave, y'know.”

“You never listen.”

“True,” he says, eyes flicking to your lips then back up. “But I’m an excellent multitasker.”

You open your mouth to respond but don’t get the chance. Suguru's hands find your jaw, cupping your face as he turns you towards himself. His lips press against yours, slow at first, steady, like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands fly to his neck, pulling him closer just as his body presses into yours, chest to chest, nothing between you but heat and steam.

He deepens the kiss further, one hand gripping your waist and pulling you closer like he can't bear even an inch of space between you. The other stays on your cheek, holding you in place, hips tilting just right as he grinds against you.

“Okay,” you breathe against his lips, dazed. “Now you’re just cheating.”

“Cheating?” he repeats, all innocent and wide-eyed. “I’m just loving you in high-definition.”

You roll your eyes. But don't stop him when he presses kisses along your jaw, when his hands drop lower, skimming your thighs, slipping up the backs with delicious deliberation.

Just as you finally give in and sigh, tilting your head, letting your eyes fall shut—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Suguru!” came Gojo’s agitated voice. “Are you trying to become one with the water in there? I am about to piss a new timeline into existence.”

You freeze on the spot.

Suguru does not.

In fact, he nips at your collarbone and chuckles, deeply amused.

“You gonna answer that, baby?” he whispers, one hand now teasing the insides of your thighs.

You slapped a wet palm over your mouth, desperately trying not to make a sound. Scrambling for composure you yell back, “I’ll be out in a minute!”

There's a pause on the other side before Gojo replies, voice suddenly chipper.

“Oh. Sorry! Didn’t know it was you. Take your time!”

Suguru raises an eyebrow. “Huh. He bought that?”

“I hate you,” you muttered, especially when his hand snuck between your legs with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how much trouble he was about to cause.

“Don’t lie now,” he said, dimples flashing with wicked satisfaction.

You glared at him, ready to curse him out, but that proved ineffective.

He caught your lips mid-protest, resuming the kiss with a hand tangled in your hair.

His other hand wasn't even pretending to behave as he hoists you up, clean off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and your back hit the cold tile with a gasp. He smirks against your mouth, breath ragged.

“Always climbin’ me like a tree,” he mutters, voice rough with amusement. “Might as well make it easier for you.”

“Screw you.” you hiss, barely biting back a moan.

“Yeah, yeah. Working on it,” he grunts, already rolling his hips into you.

His pace is slow, deep—each thrust angled to break you open. Your toes curl, head tipping back against the tile with a thud, fingers tangling in his soaked hair like you’re holding on for dear life.

Suguru stays close, mouth glued to your skin, groaning against your neck as he drives into you like he’s trying to fuck the air out of your lungs.

You were shaking, gasping, whispering his name over and over.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

“My hearing's just fine, you gross fucks! I swear if I piss myself while you're getting dicked down in my shower—”

Gojo’s tantrum doesn’t even phase him. Suguru’s too busy wrecking you, too caught up in the way you clench and cry out to care who hears.

“I love you,” he breathes into your collarbone.

“This is not romantic,” you whimper, nails digging into his back.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he pants. “You’re literally trembling.”

“Because Gojo’s threatening to piss at the door!”

On the other side, his best friend was banging on the door like his life depended on it.

“I hope the shampoo goes in both of your eyes and the water turns cold mid-orgasm!”

And yet, Suguru never stopped smiling.

— ✦ — ❖ — ✦ —

You barely made it out alive. Hair dripping, legs barely cooperating, and Suguru still looking like the devil incarnate he is, towel slung dangerously low on his hips.

You’re swaddled in the fluffiest one he could find, clutching it like a lifeline while trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person.

The bathroom door creaks open.

“Finally,” Gojo groans, stomping in with all the righteous fury of a man wronged. “I have seen entire civilizations rise and fall in the time it took for you two to defile my shower.”

He walks in and grabs his toothbrush, looking you dead in the eyes.

“I sincerely hope you both rot. Like, from the bottom of my heart.”

You shrink further into your towel, cheeks on fire. Suguru, of course, doesn’t even blink.

“You should’ve knocked,” he says smoothly, toweling off his hair with a yawn.

“Oh wait, you did. Three times.”

Gojo spins dramatically, toothbrush still in hand. “Three? I was one knock away from calling an exorcist for the sounds I heard.”

“You could’ve just gone in the sink,” Suguru says, utterly unbothered.

“I did. Not my proudest moment.”

You blink. “Wait. You seriously pissed in the sink?”

Gojo groans. “What choice did I have?! Every time I knocked, I was rewarded with moaning. It was like Pavlov's bell.”

You bury your into your hands, hoping the ground just up and swallows you whole.

Gojo turns to face you, deeply hurt by your betrayal. “You were my favorite, just so you know. Were.”

You’re about to defend yourself—say something—but Suguru wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close, and smirking like the devil himself.

“Wanna go for round two while he’s brushing his teeth?”

Gojo gags and retches. “I will shove that fucking loofah so far up your ass, you’ll be exfoliating from the inside out.”

Suguru just raises an eyebrow, calm as ever. “D’you want us to go at it again? Because you sound like you want us to go at it again.”

“I swear to god, if I hear one more thigh slap—”

“Slap?” Suguru muses, looking at you. “Did it sound like a slap? I thought it was more of a—”

“Don't you dare finish that sentence.”

“Can we just…” you whisper, already mentally packing your bags, “pretend this never happened?”

A/N: Everyone talks about how deranged Gojo would be as a boyfriend. But once you’re deep in with Suguru? Boyyyy that man would make Gojo look emotionally well-adjusted.

[lanadelspray02]

HOLD ME ANYWAY: CHAPTER 22

paige x azzi

Hey guys, I'm so sorry for the long wait. This chapter isn't the longest, but I think you'll still enjoy it. I'll be back to posting frequently again. I hope y'all like the chapter :) let me know ur thoughts

if we lose to the fever.... im crashing out.

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 4052

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

The sun wasn’t even fully up yet, just brushing the edge of the horizon in pale watercolor streaks, when Paige zipped the last duffel bag shut. The house was quiet around them, soft and dark in that familiar way of early morning, where the walls seemed to exhale sleep and the silence felt a little sacred. Ruby was curled up in Paige’s sweatshirt on the couch, Sparklehorn clutched under one arm, the ends of her hair curling damply around her cheeks from last night’s bath. She stirred every so often but didn’t wake, one leg flopped over a pillow like she owned the whole couch.

Azzi moved through the house with slow, quiet steps. She hadn’t slept much, though she’d pretended well enough when Paige curled around her in bed a few hours earlier. Her mind had been too loud. She’d checked her phone three times between midnight and four, staring at the same message each time.

Darshay: I know I messed up. But I want to talk. Please.

She hadn’t responded.

Bob was already up when they came downstairs, his hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, coffee mug in hand. He didn’t say much, just offered Azzi a nod and Paige a warm smile, and helped them carry the bags out to the car while the morning stayed quiet.

Drew emerged right before they were about to leave, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his pajama pants twisted like he’d fought a blanket in his dreams. He hugged Ruby goodbye with dramatic flair and gave her a folded piece of notebook paper with a big crayon drawing on it, the five of them in front of a castle, Sparklehorn huge and smiling in the sky.

"So you won’t forget us," he said, very seriously.

Ruby nodded solemnly. "Never ever."

Bob pulled Paige in for a hug, murmured something in her ear that made her eyes go soft, then turned to Azzi and wrapped her in the same kind of quiet strength.

"Anytime," he said. "You don’t need a reason."

Azzi swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Thank you. For everything."

The drive to the airport was sleepy and uneventful. Ruby dozed again in the backseat, her hoodie pulled over her head, feet curled beneath her. Paige sat beside Azzi with one hand rested on her thigh.

"You okay?" Paige asked eventually, voice low.

Azzi hesitated, then pulled her phone from her pocket. She turned it screen-out toward Paige.

Darshay: I know I messed up. But I want to talk. Please.

Paige's jaw flexed. She didn’t speak for a beat.

"When did he send that?"

"Yesterday. I didn’t want to ruin our last day."

"You didn’t ruin anything," Paige said. "He doesn’t get to have that kind of power anymore."

Azzi looked out the window. Her voice came out quiet. "What if he tries something? Like showing up? Or going to court? He’s not on the birth certificate, but still."

Paige squeezed her hand. "Then we fight. And we don’t do it alone. You have me now. And Ruby has both of us."

Azzi didn’t answer, just nodded slightly and turned her gaze back to the window.

At the airport, they moved through security slowly, Ruby still groggy but cooperative, Sparklehorn getting her own bin at TSA. Paige got them coffee and orange juice while Azzi sat with Ruby tucked into her lap at the gate.

When Paige returned, Azzi was staring at her phone again.

"You thinking about responding?" Paige asked.

Azzi shook her head. "I don’t know. He might not stop unless I do."

"Then let’s hear what he wants. On our terms."

They boarded the plane in quiet coordination, Ruby taking the window seat and immediately plastering her drawing to it with the little roll of tape Paige had stashed in her backpack. Halfway through the flight, Ruby fell asleep with her head on Paige’s lap, Sparklehorn tucked like a pillow under her chin.

Azzi leaned close, whispering. "He didn’t want her when I begged. But now that she’s growing up, now that she’s happy… now he’s curious?"

"You built a world without him," Paige whispered back. "He doesn’t get to step into it like he’s owed something."

Azzi rested her forehead to Paige’s shoulder. "I want to believe that."

"Then start here. With me."

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

By the time they landed, the light outside had turned gray and overcast. Familiar.

The drive back to Azzi’s house was quiet, Ruby dozing in her car seat with Sparklehorn hugged tightly to her chest. The clouds hung low, and everything outside the window looked washed in silver.

When they pulled into the driveway, the porch light was already on even though it was still afternoon. Katie opened the front door before they even rang the bell, a warm smile on her face and her arms immediately reaching for Ruby.

"There’s my girl," she whispered as Ruby melted into her arms. "And Sparklehorn too, of course."

Tim appeared a second later, taller than the doorway, his smile soft. "Welcome home."

Azzi hugged them both, lingering longer than usual. Paige followed, quiet but present, and received hugs of her own, Katie holding her tight like she’d always belonged, Tim ruffling her hair with a quiet chuckle.

Inside, the house smelled like roasted vegetables and something sweet cooling on the counter. It was warm in the way only homes lived in by love could be. Azzi helped Ruby out of her coat while Paige dropped the bags by the stairs.

They all moved into the kitchen, exchanging travel stories and small laughter, the kind that covers the quiet beneath. Ruby curled up on the couch with a blanket and was out within minutes, Sparklehorn tucked under her chin.

After a while, Katie took Tim by the hand and said they'd let them rest, leaving the girls in the kitchen alone.

Azzi stood by the counter, phone in hand, staring at the voicemail icon.

Paige entered silently, watching her.

"You gonna listen?"

Azzi nodded once, barely.

She pressed play.

Darshay’s voice came through low, clipped, and defensive.

"You’ve kept her from me long enough. I don’t care what excuses you’ve made. She’s my kid too. I got a right to see her. Don’t think I won’t do what I have to if you try to keep playing house without me."

The message ended.

Azzi stood still. Then slowly, she set the phone down on the counter.

Paige crossed the room and pulled her into a hug without saying anything.

Azzi leaned into her, breath shaky.

"I don’t know what I’m going to do."

"Whatever it is," Paige said, steady, sure, "we do it together."

Azzi closed her eyes. Her arms came around Paige like muscle memory. Like home.

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

The house had quieted after dinner, the kind of hush that settles after too much food and just enough warmth. Ruby was upstairs in the bath with Katie, her voice floating faintly through the floorboards in high-pitched little bursts of song. Tim had disappeared into the living room with a blanket and the remote, mumbling something about his nightly routine. Azzi stood in the hallway near her old bedroom, arms crossed, staring at the floor like it owed her answers. The air felt thicker here, maybe because it still held pieces of who she used to be. Maybe because the voicemail still hadn’t left her body.

Paige moved softly down the hall, slow like she knew how easily the wrong step might shatter the quiet. She didn’t say anything when she reached Azzi, just slid in behind her, wrapped both arms around her waist, and rested her cheek on Azzi’s shoulder like they’d always fit this way. Azzi leaned back without hesitation. She didn’t need to say thank you. Paige already knew.

“I’m fine,” Azzi murmured, voice low and thin.

“Sure,” Paige replied, not letting go. “And I’m training to box.”

Azzi blinked, half-turning her head. “You’re what now?”

Paige didn’t miss a beat. “Boxing. Gonna join a gym. Learn to punch. Maybe get one of those mouthguards that makes me look cool but also slightly unapproachable.”

Azzi tilted her head. “For what purpose?”

Paige’s voice dropped into a dry mutter. “For when certain people forget how replaceable they are.”

Azzi huffed a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh but wasn’t far. “You’re gonna beat up a grown man?”

“If I have to. I already play forty minutes a game and lift three times a week. All I need is footwork.”

Azzi turned fully this time, hips still pressed to Paige’s as she faced her. She didn’t smile yet. But she did let her hands slip up, palms skating under the hem of Paige’s hoodie until they found warm skin and the hard lines of her stomach.

“These abs,” she said softly, brushing her fingers along them, “are not for boxing.”

“They could be,” Paige said, chin tilting up a little smug. “They’re functional.”

Azzi’s hands lingered, slow and deliberate now. “They’re dangerous.”

“I hope so.”

“Just not in a boxing way,” Azzi said, thumbs brushing slow circles against Paige’s ribs, her voice a little lower now, a little warmer. “More in a… you walk into a room and I forget how to think way.”

Paige leaned in, forehead almost touching hers, smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Is that what happens?”

“Frequently.”

“I like it when you flirt with me,” Paige whispered.

Azzi’s voice was barely audible. “I like it when you let me.”

Paige was already leaning in when the soft sound of footsteps padded down the stairs. Both of them stilled, heads turning as Ruby’s small figure appeared at the bottom step. She had damp curls sticking to her forehead, pajama pants that nearly swallowed her feet, and Sparklehorn tucked beneath one arm like a personal bodyguard. She blinked at them, sleepy and pink-cheeked, before padding over with the kind of gentle certainty that only toddlers and house cats could get away with.

“I done with bath,” she announced softly. “Can we all cuddle now?”

Azzi dropped to one knee immediately, arms opening. “Of course we can, baby.”

Ruby folded into her like she’d been waiting to all day, Sparklehorn squished between them. Paige crouched beside them, brushing a damp curl off Ruby’s temple, and watched the way Azzi’s whole body softened when she held her daughter close.

Ruby looked up at both of them, voice smaller now. “We can cuddle in the bed?”

Paige kissed the top of her head. “Wherever you want.”

Azzi didn’t say anything. She just stood slowly, Ruby balanced on her hip with an ease that looked effortless but wasn’t, not really. It had taken years to make it look like that. Paige followed them into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her with a soft click, the kind of quiet that made the room feel like a secret.

They curled up together without words, all limbs and blankets and Sparklehorn somewhere in the middle. Paige’s arm draped over both of them, fingers resting lightly against the curve of Azzi’s hip, and Azzi didn’t even pretend she didn’t need it. Ruby squirmed once, then settled, sighing like a content little furnace tucked between their bodies.

Paige didn’t say anything about the voicemail. She didn’t ask for more or try to fix it. She just stayed close, her touch steady, the rise and fall of her breath anchoring the space between them.

And when Ruby reached out in her sleep and curled one small hand around Paige’s shirt, neither of them moved.

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

The morning was already moving too fast. Katie had packed their breakfast into foil-wrapped bundles for the road, handing them off with a kiss to Azzi’s temple and a reminder to breathe. Tim had offered a silent nod and a thermos of coffee. Ruby was in the backseat, humming to herself, one sock half-off and Sparklehorn buckled in beside her with her own seatbelt looped around a glittery horn. Paige drove. Azzi sat beside her, scrolling through texts she wasn’t reading, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to check on Ruby. The car was quiet in that way mornings often were — everyone halfway between asleep and alert, the day still waiting to fully begin.

They pulled into the small gravel lot beside the daycare just before eight. A couple of other parents were walking toward the entrance with lunchboxes and sleepy toddlers. Paige was halfway into a gentle hum when she saw him.

Darshay.

He was standing near the gate, hoodie pulled low over his head, arms crossed. Like he belonged there. Like he had the right to be there.

Paige’s whole body stiffened. She slammed the gearshift into park and sat frozen for half a second. Azzi followed her gaze and immediately went still. Her breath caught with an audible hitch.

Ruby, oblivious in the back, was singing quietly to herself, stringing together lyrics she didn’t understand.

Paige was already reaching for the door handle. “Stay here,” she said, low and tense.

Azzi opened her door before she could finish the sentence. “I can’t stay here.”

Paige rounded the car fast, meeting her on the other side, voice still low but urgent. “Azzi, you don’t have to talk to him. He has no right”

“I know. But Ruby—he’s here for her.”

They both turned as Ruby climbed down from her car seat, dragging Sparklehorn behind her by the tail. “We here?” she asked, still yawning. “I bringed my backpack.”

“Yeah, baby,” Azzi said softly. “We’re here.”

Paige stepped in closer, putting herself slightly ahead of Azzi and Ruby as they walked. She didn’t make it obvious, she just shifted forward enough to be between them and Darshay.

He saw them immediately. Started walking toward them like he hadn’t vanished for three years. Like he hadn’t missed birthdays and fevers and first words. Like this wasn’t trespassing.

Azzi stopped walking.

Paige mirrored her.

Ruby tugged on Azzi’s sleeve. “I go in now?”

Darshay’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “So you just gonna keep pretending I don’t exist?”

Paige stepped fully in front of them now, squared her shoulders. “Back off.”

“I’m talkin’ to her,” he said, nodding past Paige. “She’s the mother of my kid.”

Ruby blinked up at them, confused. “Mama? Who’s that?”

Azzi knelt down beside her. “It’s okay, baby. Just stay close to me.”

But Darshay kept coming. “You kept her from me long enough,” he snapped. “I don’t care what lies you told. She’s mine too.”

Paige moved again, blocking his path with her whole body. “Leave. Now.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” he spat. “You’re just playing house. You think because you wear the jersey and sleep in her bed, you get to be her daddy now?”

Azzi stood slowly, her hand holding tight to Ruby’s.

“Stop it,” she said, her voice shaking. “Just stop.”

Darshay looked down at Ruby then, and it was like a bomb went off.

“Ruby,” he said, loud and deliberate. “I’m your daddy.”

Everything stopped.

Ruby’s little body stiffened.

“No,” she said, voice small. “No you not.”

Darshay kept talking. “Yes, I am. I’m your real dad. I’m supposed to be—”

“No!” Ruby screamed. Her face twisted up like she didn’t have words for the panic surging through her. “No! No! I don’t got no daddy!”

Paige reached for her, but Ruby jerked away, tears already rolling down her cheeks. “I got two mummys! I don’t want you! I don’t want you! Go ‘way!”

People were looking now. Other parents slowing. Teachers coming out to the curb.

Azzi dropped to her knees and pulled Ruby into her chest. “Shh, baby, shh, I’ve got you, it’s okay, it’s okay, he’s leaving.”

“No!” Ruby sobbed, fists pounding against Azzi’s chest. “He scary! He lie! He not my daddy! I got you and Paigey, that’s all I got!”

Paige stood frozen for a second. The words, two mummys, echoed in her head like a siren. Not because of what they meant, but because of how Ruby had said them. Screamed them. Claimed them.

Azzi was rocking now, whispering into Ruby’s hair, trying to breathe through the storm.

Darshay looked around and realised everyone was watching. He backed up, muttered something under his breath, and then he turned and walked down the street, around the corner, gone like smoke.

Paige blinked, came back to herself, and dropped down beside them.

“I’ve got you,” she said, voice trembling now. “I’ve got both of you. Let’s go.”

She helped Azzi lift Ruby, who clung to her with desperate, shaking limbs, her face buried in Azzi’s neck. Paige wrapped her arms around them both, pressing a kiss to the back of Ruby’s head, and another to Azzi’s temple.

“C’mon,” she whispered. “We’re going home.”

Azzi nodded, eyes still locked on the space where Darshay had disappeared.

Paige didn’t look back.

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

The drive back to Azzi’s house was quiet, the kind of silence that didn’t ask to be broken. Ruby was tucked into Azzi’s arms in the backseat, her face pressed into her shoulder, one small fist still clutching Sparklehorn’s mane like a lifeline. Her sobs had faded into hiccups, then into breathy whimpers, but her body stayed curled tight, like she was trying to shrink into safety.

Paige didn’t say a word the whole way. She drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her thigh, fingers twitching now and then like she didn’t trust herself not to fall apart. Her jaw was clenched the entire time, but her eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror, checking on Azzi, checking on Ruby. Every glance only made her chest hurt worse.

Katie opened the front door before they even knocked, Tim appearing just behind her, concern already carved into both of their faces. Katie took one look at her daughter holding a trembling Ruby and didn’t hesitate, she reached out, arms wide.

Azzi didn’t speak. She just stepped into her mother’s arms and let herself be held, Ruby still wrapped tight between them.

“It’s okay, baby,” Katie whispered, rocking both of them gently. “You’re safe now. You’re home.”

Tim looked at Paige, who gave a short, stiff nod. “Darshay showed up,” she said, voice flat.

Tim didn’t respond with words. He just exhaled hard and gave a slow, heavy nod. He didn’t ask for details. Didn’t need to.

Katie coaxed Ruby from Azzi’s arms like it was second nature. “C’mon, little one. Let’s get you cozy. You wanna sit with Grandma on the couch? I’ll put Sparklehorn’s blanket in the dryer so she warm-warm, yeah?”

Ruby nodded into her chest without speaking, eyes still glassy and tired.

As they disappeared down the hallway, Azzi turned to Paige, but Paige was already gone.

She’d slipped away sometime in the hand-off, and by the time Azzi noticed, her bedroom door was already shut.

Paige sat on the edge of Azzi’s bed, both hands pressed hard to her eyes, trying to breathe through it. The moment had been too much. Seeing Azzi like that. Hearing Ruby scream like she’d been betrayed. Watching the man who caused it all walk up like he had any claim at all. She hadn’t cried when it happened. Hadn’t blinked. Hadn’t breathed.

But now that they were safe, now that Ruby was tucked into Katie’s arms and Azzi had let out that first, broken exhale. Paige couldn’t hold it anymore.

She pressed her fists to her eyes and curled forward, elbows on her knees. The tears came fast and hot, burning her throat, tightening her chest. She didn’t sob. She just shook, silently, shoulders trembling under the weight of everything she couldn’t say out loud.

She didn’t hear the door open.

Didn’t hear the tiny footsteps.

She only noticed Ruby when she felt a small hand brush her knee.

Paige jerked her head up, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve, trying to gather herself. “Hey, Roo, hi, baby sorry, I just needed a minute—”

Ruby looked at her with big, worried eyes, then silently climbed into her lap.

Paige froze. “You okay?” she whispered.

Ruby nodded, then reached up and touched her cheek with a still-damp hand. “You cryin’?”

Paige swallowed. “A little.”

“You sad?”

“Yeah.”

Ruby snuggled in closer, resting her head against Paige’s chest. “I sad too.”

Paige wrapped her arms around her instinctively, holding her tight, letting Ruby’s warmth ground her.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Ruby lifted her head, peered up at Paige, and asked, quiet and careful, “Paigey… you my mummy too, right?”

Paige blinked, caught between breath and something breaking open. “What?”

Ruby nodded, serious and small. “I got two mummys. You and Mama. That’s right, huh?”

Paige stared at her, the breath gone from her lungs. “Yeah,” she managed, voice shaking. “Yeah, baby. That’s right.”

Ruby leaned in again, arms wrapping around Paige’s neck like she’d done it a thousand times. “Okay. You don’t be sad, ‘kay? We safe now.”

Paige held her tighter, kissing her head, tears slipping silently down her cheek. “Yeah, baby,” she whispered. “We’re safe now.”

She didn’t notice Azzi standing in the doorway.

Azzi hadn’t meant to follow. Had only stepped down the hallway when something in her chest said Paige had been gone too long. But when she reached the door, slightly ajar, she froze.

She heard it all.

Saw the way Ruby curled into Paige’s lap like she belonged there, like she always had.

Heard the softness in Paige’s voice, the way it broke and steadied in the same breath.

She didn’t move. Just stood still, heart in her throat, watching the love of her life be called something she’d never dared say out loud, not even in the safest moments.

“Mummy.”

And then Ruby looked up and saw her.

“Mama!” she shouted happily, bouncing in Paige’s lap like she hadn’t been crying an hour ago. “Mama, I told Paigey somethin’!”

Azzi stepped in, her voice gentle. “Yeah? What did you tell her?”

Ruby grinned, proud and wide-eyed. “I said she my other mummy! ‘Cause I got two!”

Azzi’s chest ached with the force of it.

She knelt beside them, resting a hand on Paige’s back, pressing a kiss to Ruby’s forehead. “You do, baby. You really do.”

Paige looked at her, eyes still shining, lips parted like she didn’t know what to do with the moment.

So Azzi kissed her too, soft, grounding, forehead to forehead. No words. Just breath.

Then Ruby wiggled between them and announced, “Cuddle time!”

Azzi let out a short laugh and slid into bed beside them. Paige followed, letting Ruby climb onto both of their chests like she was the bridge keeping them upright. Sparklehorn was wedged between pillows. Ruby yawned and stretched and then sighed like she had solved every problem in the universe.

And then Azzi turned toward Paige like she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She kissed her cheek. Then her jaw. Then the tip of her nose. “I love you,” she whispered between each kiss. “So much. You’re—God—you’re everything.” She kissed her again, longer this time, lips pressing warm and sure against Paige’s as her hand slipped up her back.

Ruby giggled. “More kisses!”

Azzi laughed into Paige’s mouth, then pulled back just enough for Ruby to wiggle up beside her.

“Mwah!” Ruby declared, planting an exaggerated kiss on Paige’s cheek. “One more!”

“Mwah!” Another, right on Paige’s forehead.

Paige was laughing now, breathless, wrapped up in the weight and joy of both of them piled on top of her, covered in kisses and the kind of love that left no room for doubt.

“Okay,” Paige said between laughs. “You two are gonna smother me.”

“Love smother!” Ruby yelled.

Azzi leaned in again and kissed the side of her neck. “We’re not sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

They lay there tangled up, warm and full and clinging to each other like the storm had passed, like they were still alive inside the eye of something beautiful.

And if Paige cried a little more with both of them in her arms, no one said a word.

Because now it wasn’t fear. It was a relief. Ruby had said it out loud. She saw Paige as her mummy. And that was everything.

[cupidstrace]

Once Upon A Time

Summary; You don't fall in love easily. But there was a time. Pairing; Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content Warnings; character death

You sit across from a man in a small diner, watching him drone on and on about the gritty details of corporate as if you yourself don’t deal with it every passing day. The world outside the window speeds by in a blur, just like it always has, ever since three years ago.

He offers a charming smile that has your heart curling in your chest. You smile back.

His lips move, and you have to will yourself to listen. “You’re staring at me. What, have you fallen already?”

You laugh softly.

You don’t fall in love anymore. Or believe in it.

But there was once a time.

You were once a kid, brave enough to chase the impossible. Naive enough to believe you could reach it. A dreamer, full of grand ideas, chasing some sort of utopia in which everything would end up fine, and you would lose nothing in the process.

But that’s not how the world works. There’s give and there’s take. There’s the living and the dead and the fact that nothing will ever remain truly stagnant. Not love. Not even you.

You were once in love.

Gojo Satoru was insufferably cocky. Reckless. Arrogant, even.

But he was brilliant. Brave enough to chase the impossible, and stubborn enough to achieve it. He believed that strength wasn’t about how many enemies you could bring to their knees, but how many people you could keep standing.

And he was good.

He had a penchant for getting in over his head and telling you nothing. He’d come home and curl up with his head in your lap like that made up for all the silences, the half-truths, the lives he lived outside your door. He said he was a teacher. But he never let you visit the school. He never let you all the way in.

He’d watch you drift off fondly and be gone by the time you woke.

And yes, he wasn’t always present. Yes, you never married him, too swept up in arguments over finances and commitment and you never think of me as anything but a way to redeem yourself to realize that he wanted to propose. Yes, you never got any further than small murmurs at 2 am about a white picket fence and two kids in a faraway land where nothing ever mattered.

But you loved him. And he loved you. Very much.

He’d take you out when time allowed, which wasn’t very often. You’d wait late into the night to hand him a bag of sweets and see him beam. He’d whisper names in his sleep that he couldn’t bring himself to say in the daylight, and you never asked. Just held him closer.

He looked at you as if you were some fragile thing, and he was breaking you, ruining you, just by being fragile himself. He held you as if you were worth everything, and his worth was determined by how close he could mold your body to his. As if your warmth might redeem him.

Sometimes, in the quiet of the evening, with the TV humming something forgettable in the background, he’d ask if you thought he was strong enough to protect you. Even though he failed others. Even though the weight of a million could-have-beens pressed into every word he uttered and every action he took.

You used to tell him that strength didn’t mean carrying the world. It meant being vulnerable enough to let others into that world.

And for a while, you believed that.

You believed a lot of things, once.

The man taps your hand softly, and you snap out of it, offering an apologetic look. “Sorry. I was just.. thinking.”

He nods, eyes crinkling. “Do tell.”

You stare at him for a moment, searching his eyes for some flash of blue that you know won’t be there. Searching his smile for the feigned arrogance of the man that held you close all those years ago. “Do you ever wish you could turn back time?”

He hums, taking a sip of his drink before responding. “Is this one of those first date opener questions?”

You muster a soft laugh. “Maybe.”

“Yes,” he responds. “All the time. The past is like.. sand after a long day at the beach. Sometimes you go home and sit in silence and realize there’s still grains left in your asscrack. But they’ll wash away. You can’t keep going back to the beach just to slip more sand in your bathing suit.”

You blink at his metaphor, then tilt your head. “You go to the beach a lot?”

He grins. “All the time. You?”

You nod.

You wish you could turn back time to that day three years ago and ask him to stay. You wish you could stop him at the door, hold his face in your hands, and tell him not to go. Not this time. You wish you’d begged. Screamed. Something. Anything.

Instead, all you have left is a voicemail.

It’s old. Glitchy. You’ve played it so many times the words have started to slur together, like the memory of his voice is disintegrating. Softened by time, warped by grief. You’ve listened to it while staring at the photo frame on your nightstand, as if you could will him back into existence just by refusing to forget.

Hi, baby. I’m helping one of my students, so I might come back late.

..hey.

When I get home, let’s get married.

A weak laugh follows. It hurts to hear it every time, like he knew he’d never get the chance.

Let’s buy that little house on an island somewhere no one knows our names. We’ll build a fence. Two kids. No more work. No more secrets. Just you and me. I promise.

I love you, baby.

I’ll be home soon.

But he never was. Not really.

Not even a body. No final words beyond that message, stuttering through static like some ghost caught on repeat.

All they gave you was an apology. Gutted and formal and not nearly enough of an explanation to excuse the fact that he was gone. And a small, weathered box his subordinate found beneath your shared wardrobe. With a ring inside.

The one you pointed to years ago in a window you passed once and never mentioned again. Still gleaming. Still waiting.

Sometimes, in your lowest moments, you play the message back and whisper that you would’ve said yes. Because you would’ve. A million times over.

But the line’s long dead.

You blink and you’re back to the present, watching the man across from you motion to his bicep. “And that’s where the jellyfish stung me.”

He looks up at you as if waiting for some sort of awestruck look. Or concern. Or maybe both.

You hesitate, then muster a small “oh.”

The man pauses at your reaction, then laughs, sheepish. “It wasn’t a bad sting though. Anyway, yeah.. that was the first time I went to the beach. The real beach, not the metaphorical one. I’ve been hooked ever since.”

You let yourself giggle at his joke, hand coming up to twist at the ring hanging on your necklace. A nervous tic. “..I always wanted to live somewhere tropical. Remote. With shore for miles.”

He grins and nods enthusiastically. “Me too. Somewhere fun, you know? A fresh start.”

“Right,” you whisper, looking down at the ring. “Somewhere peaceful.”

He catches the shift in your tone, and for a brief moment, something unreadable flickers in his eyes. Not suspicion, or pity. Quiet understanding. “..an ex?”

“My boyfriend,” you murmur. “He was – is – somewhere peaceful. I hope.”

You clear your throat and let the silence settle like dust. Let it say everything you won’t. He doesn’t try to sweep it away.

The server comes by with a smile and a check you barely remember asking for. You both reach for it at the same time.

“I’ve got it,” he says, hand brushing yours.

You let him.

Outside, the sky has turned that soft sienna that only comes at the end of a particularly long day. 

You wonder, briefly, if he’s up there.

If the stars twinkle less to mock you for remembering and more to remind you he’s smiling, watching, from somewhere you can no longer reach.

He holds the door open for you. “Want to take a walk?”

You stare at him, then smile softly. “Yes. Thank you.”

You walk side by side through streets you’ve walked before, by a sunset you’ve seen a million times over. But it’s different, somehow. Lighter.

“Do you think people only get one true love?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

He thinks for a moment, then looks down at you. His hand touches yours, light, then he intertwines your fingers with his when you don’t pull away. “I think if you’re lucky, you get one true love who teaches you something. And if you’re brave, you’ll keep your heart open long enough to find it again.”

You stay quiet. But your shoulders drop, and the words seep through your ribs, somewhere between the neverending ache and something softer.

The ring on your necklace lies warm on your skin. The sun disappears beneath the horizon line, winking out like a bittersweet goodbye.

Maybe you were right. Maybe nothing stays stagnant.

Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

You squeeze his hand and keep walking.

[marsdql]

heyy, it's me 💗

can you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make a Jay version of enhypen babying the reader and can it be a little longer too? i hope it's not too much

thankyou so much 💗

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Here you go and I also tagged you in the niki btw! Thank you for requesting and I’m sorry it took so long, I saw all your msgs don’t worry! >.< sorry i had to make jay cringe I js had to.

The members were lounging in the dorm living room, a lazy afternoon filled with snacks and half-watched variety shows. You were curled up on the end of the couch, legs tucked under you, quietly giggling at something on your phone. Your oversized hoodie practically swallowed you, sleeves covering your hands as you tapped away.

Jay was sitting nearby, pretending to be interested in the show, but he couldn’t stop glancing at you. The way your nose scrunched when you laughed, the way your eyes lit up, the quiet hum you did when you were comfy. His heart was not just full—it was overflowing.

Then you looked up at him with those big eyes and gave him the tiniest smile.

That was it.

“Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath, standing up suddenly.

“Hyung?” Sunghoon blinked up at him. “You okay?”

But Jay didn’t answer. He crossed the room in two strides, scooped you up bridal-style with absolutely no warning, and sat back down with you cradled in his lap like a giant teddy bear.

You squeaked. “Jay! What—?!”

He buried his face into your shoulder, squeezing you tighter. “My baby’s jus’ too cute. I can’t handle it no more,” he mumbled against your skin, voice dropping into the softest baby-talk. “Look at you, all tiny n’ squishy in this hoodie. You tryna kill me, huh? You doin’ it on purpose?”

You flushed, face warm, and the members froze.

“Hyung…” Jungwon looked both amused and horrified. “Are you—baby talking?”

Jay just grinned, completely shameless. “She’s my baby. You guys can deal with it.”

You tried to hide your face in his chest, embarrassed but secretly loving it.

“Aww, no hiding,” he teased, gently cupping your face and nuzzling your nose. “Lemme see that pretty face. My precious girl. Mwah.”

Sunoo groaned. “Okay, we’re leaving. This is gross. Adorable, but gross.”

Jay just chuckled and held you tighter. “She started it by being cute. I’m just reacting.”

You mumbled something unintelligible against his hoodie.

“What was that, baby?” he cooed again, full baby-talk mode now, rubbing your back.

“I said… stop being so extra,” you muttered, though your fingers curled into his shirt, clinging.

Jay smirked and whispered just for you, “Not my fault you drive me crazy, darling. Mine forever, yeah?”

You’d barely stepped out the dorm when Jay started.

“Watch your step, tiny one,” he said in a ridiculous fake-deep voice, holding your hand like you were about to cross a dangerous battlefield instead of a cracked sidewalk.

You side-eyed him. “Don’t start.”

He grinned, unfazed. “Sorry, sorry. You’re just so small. So delicate. So petite. So fragile. So kawaii. So in need of my constant protection.”

You stopped walking. “Jay.”

“Yes, my baby mushroom pumpkin spice latte sugar baby?”

You groaned. Loudly. “I’m going back inside.”

He cackled, grabbing your hand again before you could turn. « Okay, okay! I’ll stop. Just needed to get it out of my system. » « You’re unbelievable. »

“You’re still holding my hand,” he pointed out, smug.

You didn’t respond. He knew he was right.

The ice cream shop was a quick walk away, tucked into the corner of the block. Inside, he let you choose while he stood behind you, way too close, leaning down just enough to speak near your ear.

“Don’t take too long. You’ll overthink the sprinkles.”

You ignored him, picking your usual. He paid, of course, and handed yours over with a smirk. “For the sleepy menace who pretends to hate me.”

Back at the dorm, you flopped onto the couch, pulling your hoodie sleeves over your hands and digging into the cup like your life depended on it. Jay sprawled next to you, one arm over the back of the couch. “You’re not mad, right?”

You gave him a flat look. Then, without a word, you slid lower into the cushions, head falling back. “Why are you so much sometimes?”

Jay just laughed. Loudly. “Oh my god, you’re crashing out. You’re done.”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

“You’re like a toddler after sugar. Just shutting down.”

You didn’t answer, just blinked slowly at him, expression blank. He leaned in, brushing your hair out of your face, amusement still tugging at his mouth. But his voice dropped a notch.

“You done pouting now, love?”

You blinked again, slower this time.

And something in him shifted.

He took the empty cup from your hand, set it on the table, then leaned back and tugged you into his chest. His voice changed — low, warm, steady.

“There she is,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “Always act tough ‘til you get tired. Then you melt.”

You didn’t say anything, but the way you curled against him gave you away.

Jay’s hand dragged slowly down your back, stopping at your waist, thumb pressing into the soft spot there.

“You gonna be good now?” he asked, voice near your ear, quiet and serious this time. “No more eye rolls?”

You let out a muffled hum.

“That’s what I thought.” His hand tilted your chin up gently. “You know I only tease ‘cause I like watching you get mad, right?” You tried to look annoyed, but your body betrayed you — relaxed against him, eyes fluttering shut.

He chuckled, but this time it was low. “Mm. Too tired to sass me now, huh? Thought so.” He kissed your cheek, slow and lingering. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ve got you.” And he did—one arm wrapped firm around your waist, holding you close like you weren’t going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

[beyondbluess]

with you

dallas winston x fem! reader

summary: dallas decides to join you on the front porch one chilly night. warning: fluff fluff fluff. not sure why i keep putting out fluff when i really love angst. not proofread; wrote this at two in the morning and didn't finish much later. author's note: so sorry for the lack of fics! definitely would've something out sooner but writer's block has been terrible. i'm trying to work on requests so bare with me.

Laughter was bouncing off every corner of the Curtis residence, a contrast to the chill nipping at your skin on the front porch. You couldn’t remember why you were out there or how long—you just needed to get away from the noise, at least for a while.

The front door opens and shuts from behind in a matter of seconds, but you didn’t bother to check to see who it was. 

“Y’alright?” 

You finally turned around to see Dallas, a hint of concern in his eyes. When you didn’t respond, he muttered something inaudible before sitting beside you on the cold concrete—his eyes never leaving your form. 

“Just.. needed to get away from the noise,” you replied, hugging yourself to keep warm. Dallas noticed this, taking off his leather jacket and placing it over your shoulders. An action that surprised you. 

Both of you sat in silence, the only thing that could be heard was the sounds of the crickets chirping. Something about the combination gave Dallas a sense of unease. 

“Doll, c’mon,” he bursts out, turning his whole body to look at you, brows creasing in further concern. “What’s eatin’ at you?”

You shrugged, lifting your knee to rest your arm on it. Dallas groaned in annoyance, lifting his hip to grab a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket to offer you one, but ended up respectfully declining. He soon pulled out his own to light it before easing into another moment of silence with you.

“Do you ever think about leaving?”

Dallas didn’t respond to this at first, as if he didn’t even know how to answer the question himself. He debated on putting out the cigarette, but stopped in his tracks. “Dunno, sometimes.”

“It’s just,” you started, finally turning your body to look at him. It’s probably the first time you’ve really looked at him all night—you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked over the moonlight. “I’ve grown up here, gotten used to seeing the same people, same places. I want to see what life is like outside of Tulsa, Dal.” 

Dallas listened to you ramble on, a smirk appearing on his face. He always liked how you were always so comfortable with him, never straying away from speaking your mind. 

“You’ve been to New York, right?” you ask, not even realizing that you’ve scooted closer to him, your hand just centimeters away from his. “What’s it like?” 

“Mainly got arrested there, sweetheart,” he replies, taking a drag out of his cigarette. His gaze followed the car that passed by, his lips forming a thin line. “Wasn’t there for fun, it’s that’s what ya askin.” 

You hummed at this, shifting your attention towards the ground in front of you. Dallas’ hand moved closer to yours, fingers now lightly touching. Neither of you felt like moving. 

Eventually, the excitement inside fizzled out, leaving the occasional chatter and the sound of footsteps throughout the house. Dallas knew that the conversation from earlier still lingered on your mind—what life is like outside of Tulsa. He wanted you to have that experience; he wanted to be with you for it. 

“Hey, doll?”

You turned to face him, raising your eyebrow in curiosity. There were a few seconds where he didn’t say anything, simply just looked at you with those eyes. Before you could speak, he leaned in, cutting you off with a kiss. You didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to. 

“Y’know, we can always go,” he murmured, a small but hopeful smile gracing his lips. He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, his touch so uncharacteristically soft. 

“What are you—”

The front door opened, revealing Darry, shoulders tense from working two jobs that paid little. By now, he’s usually cleaning up and getting ready for bed, so you were surprised when he allowed everyone to stay over this late. 

“You two alright out here?” he asks, his eyes shifting between you and Dallas. He muttered out a curse at how chilly it was, pulling the door back slightly so the air wouldn’t come in completely. You wearing Dallas’ jacket doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just… talking,” You answered softly, eyes lingering on Dallas a moment longer before looking up at Darry. “Everything okay?” 

“Jus’ realized that y’all haven’t eaten yet,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, a soft groan escaping from exhaustion. “Figured ya wanted somethin’.”

You were about to answer, but your stomach did it for you—grumbling. A small chuckle escaped Dallas’ lips, making you swat his shoulder playfully. You got up from the porch, dusting off your jeans, looking down at him.

“You coming, Dally?”

“Uh, yeah, jus’ give me a minute,” he muttered, taking another cigarette out of the pack to light, but instead just held it between his fingers, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer, something about your presence giving him a sense of ease. 

You were about to take off his jacket to give it back, but he shook his head—something about how it looked better on you than it did him. Darry moved aside so you could come inside, the warmth welcoming and inviting. He looked down at Dallas, giving him a knowing look.

“So you and—“

“Shut up.”

requests are open !

[noctiva]

sorry guys I’m angsty today. here’s how some of the boys would break up w you.

Toby: Loud and messy. More angry than sad (the grief will come later). Tears streaming down his cheeks and shaking hands as he points an accusing finger at you. His entire body taut like he’s holding himself back from lashing out further. Calls you every name in the book. Says shit so cruel you’re left wondering how long those thoughts have been stewing in his brain.

Cuts you off in the middle of a sentence by storming out and slamming the door so hard it makes you ears ring. It’s the last time you ever see him.

You would really have to push him to the absolute brink for this to happen. Toby’s always one to try and work things out instead of letting his emotions get the best of him. He loves hard, and it’s unwavering. You’d have to do something pretty damn horrible for that to be snuffed out completely.

- “I c-can’t believe I wasted so much time on someone like you.”

-

Jack: Silent but brutal. Clinical and apathetic. He won’t be the one to actually start the fight or utter the final blow, he’ll just slowly push you away and ice you out until you’re the one to sever the ties. You can practically feel the affection leech out of him over the course of a few months. Doesn’t touch you unless you initiate it. His tone with you gets drier, more detached. Like the words you speak are muffled, and he’s just responding off of autopilot

When you finally do decide to end things, he doesn’t flinch. Barely bats an eye. He won’t fight you. He’ll agree the moment you even suggest splitting up. His ears twitch at the quiver in your voice but he won’t comment on it.

You’ll probably storm out out of frustration over his complete and utter nonchalance. He’ll be gone by the time you get back.

- “If that’s what you want.”

-

Brian: Completely out of left field. Completely blindsides you to the inner workings of his mind. Thought about ending it for months, but didn’t let it show even a little bit - continued on as normal, plastered that same old charming smile on his face, let the pet names roll off of his tongue just as smoothly as always. All while plotting the easiest way to let you down. He’s always been uncannily good at keeping his true intentions hidden, the mask he wears indistinguishable from his true self. Shame you didn’t find that out until it was too late.

He’ll take you out for a drive one night. Start the conversation out like normal. But when the silence between you starts to stretch, it feels heavier than it ever has. When he finally speaks again, he doesn’t beat around the bush. No sugarcoating, no preheating the dread by starting off with ‘we need to talk’. He just says it, point blank. Peers at you out of the corner of his eye to gauge your reaction.

And of course you’re shocked. Of course you cry. But it doesn’t really phase him. He’s been preparing for this for ages now. When he comforts you, it sounds hollow.

He’ll drop you off at home with a weight lifted off his shoulders.

- “You didn’t actually expect to marry me, did you?”

-

Tim: He just leaves. Crawls out of bed while you sleep and silently packs his things into the closet bag he can find. He probably forgets a few things in the rush. He won’t miss them, but they’ll ruin your entire mood anytime you come across one of his old socks, or notice that his toothbrush is still sitting by the sink.

He’ll write you a note and leave it on your bedside table. Telling you how he’s sorry he was too much of a coward to say all of this to your face, but it’s just easier this way. He knew you’d cry. He knew you’d beg for him to stay. Doing it this way was a much cleaner break - on his end, at least.

He’ll tuck the sheets over you gently, lets his gaze linger on your face for a few moments too long - nearly long enough for him to just crawl back in bed and let this whole plan go to hell. But, that subsides rather quickly as his eyes scan across your sleeping face. You look so calm. So serene. So sweet.

He wasn’t deserving of you and he knew it. He had known from the start.

- “This was never going to work. I know you thought it would. I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

-

Cody: Just shuts you out completely. The breakup version of ‘quiet quitting’. In his mind, the moment he starts to get the urge to do so - you’re already broken up. Shuts himself in his lab for hours on end and doesn’t let you in like he used to. Makes up excuses about how it ‘needs to be a sterile environment’ and that he ‘can’t afford distractions’.

Goes back to wearing his gloves around you. Wanting that barrier that he had broken down for you to go right back up again. Brushes you off every time you try to make plans with him. Short, one word answers every time you speak. Like Jack, his ultimate goal is for you to just get fed up and end things before he can, but unlike Jack - he’s less patient.

It irritates him how you try to cling on. How you just roll over and let him treat you like this just because you’re reluctant to lose him.

One day, he’ll just hit you with it. Short and sweet. And he’s walking back off and locking himself up in his lab before you can even get a reply out.

- “Your inability to take a hint is mind boggling. We’re done. Why can’t you get that?”

-

Habit: Kills you. He had joked about it when you first got together. How once he’s tired of you, he’ll just lob your pretty head clean off. It wasn’t actually a joke. You should’ve probably guessed that.

He just can’t be bothered. Would much rather avoid everything that came with a real, formal breakup. The tears, the bartering, the desperate pleas. All just trivial human emotions that irritate him so much it makes him feel nauseous. He’d much rather just put an end to that before it can even start.

How he does it depends on what mood you catch him in. Maybe he’s feeling merciful and does it in your sleep. Slits your throat so quick that you barely even have time to wake up before you’re choking on your own blood. Maybe he’s just fed up. Strangles you with his bare hands jusy so that he can watch the fear flood into your eyes - knowing that he’s serious this time.

Doesn’t even bury you. Throws you in a lake and walks off like nothing happened.

- “I told you this would happen.”

[gimmethatagustd]

new flame | kth

Flame is a dating app designed for omegas and alphas to find heat and rut partners. You’re skeptical of using the app, not anticipating that you might find someone who is more than just a new flame.

Pairing: Alpha Taehyung x Omega Reader

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: Omegaverse, strangers to lovers, smut

Word Count: 1,359

Content Warning: Heat sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, marking, choking, knotting, biting, blood

A/N: Writing a/b/o as a reader-insert felt sooooo weird

Soundtrack: Monsta X - MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

From: Taehyung good morning 🥰 im at the gym but lmk if u want me to pick u up anything omw back

You stare at the text message with only one eye and half your face smushed against your bed. Holding up your phone takes too much effort, so you have it propped against your pillow next to your head. 

Exhaustion makes your limbs heavy as you get up, and you only move enough to kneel in your bed before you let your arms hang limply at your sides. Hot tears slip down your puffy cheeks, and you barely have the energy to wipe them away. You’re so tired, and your body hurts. Your pre-heat symptoms are nothing new, but they always suck. 

“Good morning,” Taehyung’s soothing voice fills your room when you call him and set your phone on speaker mode. “Gonna let me bring you breakfast, or are you gonna be stubborn still?”

Your tongue feels swollen, and your throat so dry that you can barely swallow, let alone talk. 

“Hey, you okay?” Taehyung’s concern is unbelievably sweet for a guy who barely knows you.  

“A-alpha,” you sob, immediately clapping your hand over your mouth.

The silence on Taehyung’s end is horrifying, almost as much as your slip-up. Embarrassment makes your already sweaty skin prickle with even more heat.

“I’m sorry,” you rush to apologize despite your body screaming at you to call for the alpha you’ll be spending your heat with. 

“Don’t,” Taehyung says softly. “Just give me, like, twenty minutes, okay?”

Before agreeing to spend your heat with Taehyung, you’d met for coffee. He’d called it a date; you’d called it a meeting. The first thing you’d noticed about Taehyung was that he smelled like chamomile and he was really fucking tall.

“Is that it? Not that I’m handsome or anything?” he had laughed when you told him, his mouth morphing into a boxy smile that made your stomach flutter.

“Of course you’re handsome. I responded to your lame pickup lines on Flame, didn’t I?” you’d responded, half hiding behind your drink while he watched you with sparkling eyes from across the table. 

Now, with Taehyung standing in the entryway of your apartment, he seems even larger and more intimidating than before.

You cling to him with your arms circling his neck and your legs clenching his waist when he picks you up and lets you wrap the two of you in the blanket you’re practically swaddled in. You haven’t met Taehyung’s eyes yet, too afraid of how intimidatingly gorgeous he is, like a fever dream designed by your heat. 

You nuzzle his neck as he carries you to your bedroom. It should be awkward, but it isn’t when Taehyung lays you on your bed. He’s quick to step out of his basketball shorts and tug off his hoodie, but you don’t have time to admire him before he’s kneeling between your legs. He drags his hands down your thighs to remove your slick-soaked underwear and is just as gentle when he takes off your t-shirt. 

“Can I mark you up, baby?” Taehyung murmurs with a flick of his tongue against your throat.

“Y-Yeah,” you moan and bare your neck. 

You shiver every time Taehyung nips your skin with his blunt front teeth, though your body still burns brighter than the sun’s pinks and oranges peeking around the window blinds. His teeth graze the sensitive spot on your neck where your jasmine scent is the strongest. It’s gross how Taehyung sucks and laps at your sweaty skin, swirling his tongue and sucking so hard that it hurts, but your basic instincts make you melt under the attention. 

“Please.” 

“Hmm?” Taehyung runs his nose along your jaw. 

You turn your head to kiss him, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth. He tastes as sweet as he smells, floral and prettier than most alphas. Most alphas’ scents are harsh, but Taehyung’s scent surprisingly calms you.  

“More, please,” you whisper against his lips, mellow and sweet like chamomile tea. 

Reaching down, Taehyung slides his fingers through your slippery folds, smearing slick over your pussy and the inside of your thighs. You’re leaking, soaking the sheets, and getting Taehyung’s thighs messy, too. 

“You’re so wet,” Taehyung groans, voice low in the back of his throat. 

Taehyung thrusts two fingers into your pussy and uses his other hand to press your leg against your chest, spreading you open. You can’t help but think his fingers would look just as pretty in your mouth as they do pumping in and out of your pussy. 

“Tell me what you want, omega.” 

You tangle your fingers in Taehyung’s soft hair and tug until he lifts his head so you can get lost in the amber sparkles in his eyes, his arousal permeating the room. The smell of it sets your body into overdrive until all you can think about is, 

“Want you to fuck me, alpha. Please, please. Want your knot.” 

“Fuck,” Taehyung grinds against your pussy, slicking up his cock when it slides through your folds, “Gonna present for me, omega? Show me how bad you want my knot.”

You don’t have to think about your actions; your body takes over for you as you get on your forearms and knees. It’s your heat talking, but all you want is to be fucked within an inch of your life and bred by the strong, pretty alpha touching your body like you’re something to worship. 

“Look at you…” Taehyung murmurs as he squeezes your ass, jiggling one cheek before letting it go to give it a hard slap that makes you jolt. When you whimper, he slaps your other cheek. “Think you’re ready for me?” 

You thrust back when Taehyung slides two fingers inside you again, massaging your walls until you’re shaking. 

“Yes, alpha, I’ve been ready since I, since I c-called you.”

You’re gasping, on the verge of tears, when Taehyung finally presses the head of his cock against your entrance. The stretch is minimal with how soaked you are, your pussy gushing when he bottoms out.

“Gonna, gonna fill you up,” Taehyung growls, pounding into you so hard that your arms give out. 

Turning your head to the side, you let your upper body drag against the bed sheets with each snap of Taehyung’s hips. To keep you in place, he squeezes the back of your neck, holding you against the mattress as he fucks you.  

You feel lightheaded from the pressure on your throat. Quick, shallow breaths make you more sensitive to the drag of Taehyung’s cock against your slippery walls. Slick gushes around his cock and drips down the inside of your thighs.

“Knot me, alpha, please, knot me,” you sob a little chant for Taehyung, “Make me full.” 

Unshed tears collect along your eyelashes when you feel Taehyung’s knot grow, stretching you even more. It’s your pheromones and warm slick making him spiral so quickly.  

“Fuck, gonna cum,” Taehyung gasps. 

He shoves you harder into the mattress, draping his body over yours as he deepens his thrusts. His knot fully expands when he cums, a broken moan on his lips. 

The sudden pressure on your sensitive walls makes the burning coil of arousal in you finally snap. You unravel on Taehyung’s cock with a cry of his name that’s muffled by the bed sheets. 

“You okay?” Taehyung asks repeatedly, panting heavily against your shoulder as his body cages yours against the bed.

His pupils are blown out and dark, giving him a wild look. There’s blood on his teeth from where he bit into his forearm when he came to stop himself from sinking his teeth into your neck. 

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, “Thank you." 

"I told you I’d take care of you,” Taehyung murmurs as he turns the two of you onto your sides. 

It’s more comfortable for Taehyung to spoon you, considering your bodies will be connected until his knot goes down. He leans forward to nuzzle his face in your neck and breathe deeply. Heats suck, but you could get used to having Taehyung to spend them with. Even if he is a dumb alpha. 

@rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap @likecrazy22 @iadelicacy

[shina913]

Tumble Dry | CSC

Tumble Dry

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x AFAB!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Established relationship; domestic AU; smut; some fluff

Warnings: mentions of ovulation/menstrual cycle; cussing; breast play; fingering; oral (both giving/receiving); unprotected sex; PIV sex; ass smacking; dirty talk; creampie

Word count: 3.3k words

Summary: Sure, a man doing chores is hot. But a man who does the laundry, folds it, and puts it away? Absolutely irresistible.

A/N: The monkey is off my back and I finally channeled my Cheol Burstday comeback brainrot into this!!! Thanks to @roaminginthenights for always enabling me in the DMs. This is for you!

Throughout the workweek, you and Seungcheol text frequently. It’s your way of letting each other know you’re thinking of one another. You share the most mundane things, like mismatched socks on laundry day, or talk shit about coworkers you’d gladly dump on a deserted island along with your other annoying acquaintances.

Occasionally, the messages turn spicier, sent during quiet moments at your desks.

But today has been brutal. The kind of nonstop insanity that barely lets you glance at your phone, let alone reply. You feel guilty for leaving him on ‘read’, but you couldn’t get a moment to break away since there were too many fires to put out.

Seungcheol could tell the week was eating you alive. You’d been venting about that looming deadline, and judging by your radio silence, he connected the dots. Without saying anything to you, he heads out of work early to start dinner and knock out a few chores, just so you can walk in the door and finally decompress.

Back at your desk, you glance at the clock. Just a couple more hours until you can escape the madness and burn off every last ounce of tension with him. The thought alone has you pressing your thighs together. You lick your lips, letting the anticipation settle into the base of your belly, using it as motivation to power through the rest of the day. And you can come home and claim your well-deserved reward.

******

The scent of dinner cooking welcomes you as you walk through the door after a long and trying day. At the end of the hallway, you catch a glimpse of Seungcheol in the kitchen, his broad back turned to you while he unloads the dishwasher.

The exhaust fan hums softly, and music is blasting in the background. You figure this is why he hasn’t responded to your text that told him you were on your way.

You cock your head and watch him for a moment. Your heart swells with appreciation at the sight of him taking care of some chores at home without you asking him.

He looks up at the jangle of your keys as you hang them on the wall. He beams instantly when his gaze lands on you. “Hey, love! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

He’s in sweats and one of his old college shirts, whose sleeves he proudly hacked off himself. It used to hang loose around his shoulders, but now it clings and stretches nicely over his biceps. They’ve been looking more defined lately, and you’ve mentioned more than once how good he looks in that shirt.

You spot the V-shaped sweat mark beneath his collar that tells you he just finished a workout. You can’t help but hope he’s not completely spent, and that he’s saved some energy for you.

Honestly, you’re hoping for a little more than “some.” You want—no—need to be manhandled tonight. After hours of trying to hold things together today, you’d want nothing more than to give up control and have him take over.

He strolls over and greets you with a kiss. A grin spreads across your face. “You didn’t have to cook!” you say. “I was going to order takeout, because I thought you’d be working late tonight.”

He turns back to the stove, lowering the flame beneath one of the simmering pots. “I was,” he says, “But Joshua owes me a favor, so I asked him to finish up the rest of the cases. Told him there was an emergency at home.”

You tilt your head, brows knitting in curiosity. “Oh? What kind of emergency?”

He crosses the room again, cups your cheeks, and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. His eyes soften as he meets yours. “The kind where I need to take care of you.”

He’s so cheesy—but your heart still melts. “Ugh... I love you,” you gush.

“Love you too. Now go get changed—dinner’s almost ready.”

******

After dinner, as the food coma settles, you and Seungcheol curl up on the couch to catch up on your favorite show. You’ve changed into an oversized sleep shirt and stretched out sideways, your legs draped across his lap. His eyes are on the screen while his thumb traces lazy circles over your knee.

You’re not really watching the show—your gaze keeps drifting to his profile, bathed in the soft, warm light of the nearby lamp.

“Thank you for dinner,” you murmur. “It was perfect… especially after today.” A slow smile spreads across your face.

He turns to you with a gentle look. “You’re welcome. I know this week’s been a lot,” he says, his voice low and warm. “I thought if I came home early and took care of a few things, maybe you could just… breathe a little easier this weekend.”

“Like what things?”

“Just a few chores. After grocery shopping, I stopped by the pharmacy to pick up your prescription…”

You could cry listening to him list many of the errands you planned to do this week, but never found the time for. How is it possible to love him even more than you already do?

“Then, before I started cooking, I did the laundry.”

Your shoulders tense up.

Every time he did the laundry, it was utter chaos—darks, lights, and delicates tossed into the same load. You never knew if your white tees would survive unscathed or come out with a tinge of pink. The last time, he left everything in the dryer overnight, and you spent the next morning re-running cycles just to tame the wrinkles. Since then, he’s been unofficially banned from doing laundry unsupervised.

He sees your expression shift and quickly adds, “Don’t worry. I sorted everything. Even used the pre-wash on the sheets—just like you showed me.” He gives you a reassuring look, promising there wouldn’t be a repeat of last time.

Your eyes go wide. “You did what?”

He hesitates. “I… did the laundry?” He breaks into a sweat as he starts to question every decision he’s made in the last couple of hours.

You shake your head. “No, no—what did you say after that?”

“I sorted it and ran a pre-wash cycle?” He winces, hoping this answer will get him in less trouble.

When he sees your jaw drop with a gasp, he assumes the worst and scrambles for an explanation.

“Okay, hear me out. I know I messed up before, but I swear, I did it properly this time. I even folded the clothes and put them away in our closet. I’m just waiting for the last load to finish in the dryer.”

You find yourself…inexplicably aroused by all of this. The thought of him in his cutoff shirt, doing a load of laundry, and carefully folding everything. Not only that, but most importantly, doing it exactly the way you like it—is enough to get you hot and bothered.

He sits there anxiously, completely unaware of the effect this has on you.

“I was just trying to help. Are you mad?”

Instead of answering him, you lunge forward and kiss him.

“Whoa, what? What’s happening?” He’s perplexed, yet pleasantly surprised by your sudden aggressiveness.

You shift to straddle his hips. “You had me at ‘sorting the laundry,’” you breathe against his lips before kissing him again, harder this time.

He pulls away again, still looking confused. “Wait, seriously? The laundry?”

It’s not just the laundry. Your hormones are already raging from ovulating, which not only piles onto your stress and irritability at work, but it also leaves you feeling unbearably horny.

The dinner he made had briefly distracted you, but now he’s stirred the memory of what you’d really been looking forward to since walking through the door.

You glare at him in exasperation for trying to derail your plans again. “Yes! Now, are you going to interrupt me again or do you want to get your dick sucked?”

He blinks slowly, your words echoing in his head. Then a slow smirk tugs at his lips, and his gaze darkens. He mimes zipping his mouth shut, hands lifting in mock surrender. He sinks back into the couch, arms stretched, eyes locked on you with quiet amusement.

“Good choice!” You cup his nape and pull his mouth to yours.

You kiss him with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue—each one driving him crazy with want. Your hunger is intoxicating, only rivaling his scent: a heady mix of body wash, sweat, and the savory aromatics from the dish he cooked. It’s the perfect cocktail that sends your senses into overdrive.

When you break the kiss, you tug his shirt over his head. Then you lower yourself again, pressing soft kisses along his jaw, tracing it with gentle licks that elicit a low moan from his throat. Your mouth travels down his chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses as you slide from his lap, then finally sinking to your knees between his legs.

He lifts his hips when you tug at his waistband, helping you slide his bottoms, just enough to pull his cock out.

You tease the tip with a gentle flick of your tongue, making him inhale sharply. You slide your mouth down his length, drawing another gasp from him. At the first hint of suction, he sinks his head deeper into the cushions and groans in pleasure.

“Holy…f…uck…” The rush of wet heat from your mouth over his sensitive tip is so intense, he struggles to catch his breath. Your lips tighten around him, your tongue massaging that perfect spot on his cock that you know makes his toes curl.

You pull upward, then tease him with your fingers, stroking with just enough pressure to make him crave more.

His hands are in your hair, his neck straining to get a glimpse of your mouth sliding up and down his cock.

“Fuck, baby…” he hisses through his teeth, “So good.”

You peer up at him and see his lip caught between his teeth, eyes heavy-lidded, face etched with pleasure—the visual intensifies the throbbing between your legs. Unable to resist, you slip your fingers into your panties to ease the ache. Being extra sensitive during this phase of your cycle, it doesn’t take long before your fingers are coated in your slick.

The hum of your moans vibrates through him, fueling his torment and driving him closer to the edge. You can feel it in the way his thighs tense, hear it in the way his breath stutters. Then suddenly, his hands grab your sides, breaking your suction as he pulls you upward.

“C’mere.”

His hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt, gliding to cup the backs of your thighs and the curve of your ass. He pulls you in until your center hovers right over his face.

“Take it off,” he whispers, eyes gazing up at you with dark anticipation.

Without hesitation, your top comes off in one fluid motion.

He presses slow kisses across your stomach, each one making you sigh with pleasure and weak in the knees. His fingers hook into your panties, easing them down your legs, and he guides you back onto his lap.

You gasp as your overly sensitive nipples brush against his bare chest, sending a burst of sensation straight to your core.

“I want you inside me,” you whisper, nuzzling his nose with yours.

“Yeah?” His fingers find your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You whimper when the sharp but pleasurable pain makes goosebumps race across your skin.

“How bad?”

You grind your soaked folds shamelessly along the length of him, then tease the seam of his lips with your tongue. “Really, really bad.”

Seungcheol flashes a cocky grin, clearly pleased with your answer. For a second, you think he’s about to finally put you out of your misery. But instead, he surprises you, lifting you off the couch.

His hands steady beneath you, he tightens your legs around his waist. You band your arms around his neck, clinging to him as he carries you down the hall—both of you giggling and kissing between breaths.

He angles his body and bumps your bedroom door wider. Your thighs hit the edge of the mattress first, and then he lowers you gently onto your back.

With a sly, teasing smile, he leans down and kisses you quickly.

“My turn.”

He hovers over you, then down—his hot mouth trailing over your breasts, your stomach, and finally, your center. You gasp, arching as his tongue flutters over your clit, every flick sending jolts through your body.

His hands slide up to cup your breasts, fingers teasing your nipples while his mouth devours you with unrelenting focus. The more you beg him to fuck you, the longer he makes you wait, savoring every sound you make, every tremble of your body.

“Cheol, please…”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just slips two fingers inside you and curls them, pressing and stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you.

You’re close to tears when he makes you come once. Then again. And again. By the time he finally lets up, your legs are shaky, your body limp with aftershocks. You lie still, your limbs heavy, your clit still pulsing from his relentless mouth.

You barely register him speaking when his finger strokes you gently across your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You nod weakly.

He chuckles, clearly pleased with the satiated look on your face.

“Time for bed?”

The second the words register, your eyes snap open, and you push up onto your elbows, protesting. “What? No!”

The corners of his mouth twitch. That’s exactly the response he wanted. He leans in close, his breath fanning against your skin.

“Can you take more?”

His teeth graze the shell of your ear, then his lips trace a path down your cheek before claiming your mouth again.

“Please. I just want you inside me.”

He’s seen that look in your eyes before—hunger, need. And because Seungcheol aims to please, he gives in.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You give a vague nod and your body’s already moving, scrambling upright, too eager to wait another second.

He leans in again, his breath warm on your cheek as he gently tucks a few loose strands behind your ear.

“Say it.”

A small smile curves your lips as you kneel on the bed, hands resting obediently on your thighs, sitting back on your heels–like a good girl.

His teeth catch his bottom lip. God, he could come just from seeing you like this.

“Ask me again.”

He steadies himself, shifting his focus to hang onto his last shred of control. He wants to make this last—for both of you.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“Yes.”

He takes a couple of steps back, and your mouth waters as you watch him peel off his sweats. His hand wraps around himself, slowly stroking, before he climbs onto the bed with you.

“Lean into me,” he murmurs.

You shift until your back presses against his chest, resting your cheek against his shoulder. One hand cups your face, tilting your mouth up to his for a kiss, while the other slips between your legs, fingers pumping steadily inside you.

“You ready?” he purrs.

“I’ve been ready,” you whine breathlessly.

He chuckles. “Go ahead,” he coaxes, his tongue touching yours with teasing licks. “Put me in then.”

Reaching back, your hand wraps around his length. He adjusts to line himself up for you. You sink your hips as he pushes up simultaneously, both groaning at the sensation of stretch and constriction.

He wraps his hand gently around your throat, his palm flat against your stomach. He withdraws, then thrusts so hard into you that you could swear you see stars. He holds you firmly in his arms, pumping in and out of you steadily, his groans thrumming against your spine.

“Yes, yes…harder,” you pant, reaching behind and sinking your nails into the flesh of his ass, beyond needy.

You don’t have to ask him twice—he’s already on it. He pulls out, guides you down to the bed, and steadies you as you bend at the waist, cheek pressing into the mattress. His hands grip your hips firmly, and he slides in deep, pulling a whimper from your lips. This is exactly what you wanted, and he’s all too happy to give it to you.

Your insides tense, clenching desperately around him. He grunts through clenched teeth, pulling out just enough before pushing back in intensely. Again and again. Each time, hitting every one of those tight bundles of nerves inside you.

“Don’t stop…” You whine.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Let me hear you.”

He smacks your ass hard, the stinging sensation causing your insides to clench around him in a vice-like grip. Your fingers claw at the sheets, deep moans rumbling from your throat.

Your legs tremble with a particularly rough stroke, but you’re still desperate and hungry for more. The steady rhythm of his hips and the sounds you make only add to his own insatiable need for you.

He spanks you again, before he picks up the pace, pounding into you, his fingers circling your clit add to the torment. Your cunt squeezes around him as another orgasm nears.

His movements grow unsteady and erratic—after delaying his gratification for so long, he’s now racing toward his orgasm.

He comes with a drawn-out, throaty growl, your knees buckling with the rush of his release melding with yours.

You both collapse onto the bed, skin flushed with a gleam of sweat, limbs tangled in the mess of sheets that he had, ironically, just washed.

He lets out a hoarse, breathless laugh. “Sorry if I went too hard.”

You giggle. “Are you kidding? No complaints here—at all!”

You both settle into a comfortable silence as your breathing steadies and heartbeats slow to normal.

After a moment, he glances over at you and asks, “Hey… are you ovulating, by any chance?” His tone is light, but there’s a hint of apprehension to it.

You narrow your gaze, intrigued. “Y-eah,” you draw out the word. “Why?”

He nods, as if that confirms something. “Figured.”

You tilt your head in amusement. “And how exactly could you tell the difference?”

His voice drops as he locks eyes with you. “Because I can feel it.” 

Sure enough, you’re much wetter, and he slips right into you with ease.

You bite back a grin. “Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on that kind of thing.”

He shrugs, all nonchalant about it. “We’ve been together long enough for me to know you tend to like it rough around this time.”

You glance at him, cheeks warming. He wasn’t wrong. You wanted to be manhandled, and he delivered, as he always does. “Is that weird for you?”

His mouth curves into a smirk. “Weird? Nah. Hot?” He gives an exaggerated nod, eyes trailing over you, and blows out a slow whistle.

You tilt your head back, laughing softly at the ceiling. “Well, I never thought properly done laundry would end up on my list of turn-ons, and yet, here we are.”

You catch his cheeky grin from the corner of your eye.

“Well, in that case,” he drawls, “I should mention that I ran the delicates cycle. Even used that little mesh bag you keep stashed above the washer.”

You roll onto your side and slow-blink at him, as if he’d just grown an extra head.

“And,” he adds, his voice dropping, “I vacuumed.” His eyebrow arches in that cocky way that sends your pulse racing and your self-control straight out the window.

You sit up slowly, crawling toward him with purpose. “Oooh, Mr. Choi,” you whisper, fingers trailing up his chest, “Keep talking dirty to me.”

He breaks into that throaty laugh you love so much. “Round two, then?”

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[suniix]

mission accomplished | bucky x agent! reader

synopsis | when a mission goes awry secrets are revealed, some more awkward than others

word count | 4.2k

warnings | mentions of blood + injury, light violence

note | this is me trying to get back into writing. it’s also my first time writing for bucky i hope it’s good 💔 also also, i haven’t watched anything after endgame so bear with me (im catching up i swear) i mostly wrote this at 4 am so forgive any errors 🙂‍↕️

The only reason you accepted this task was because during the mission briefing it seemed like a quick and easy job.

It totally didn’t have anything to do with the super soldier currently sitting across from you.

“Alright you two,” Sam called out and you felt the jet begin its descent. “Stick to the plan and we’ll meet at the extraction point.”

Right, the plan.

When Natasha first approached you for the job you were speed walking to a mission briefing you were almost late to. You found it a bit odd considering you almost never go out for missions. You weren’t exactly a field agent, only being called on for low stakes undercover tasks since you were an unfamiliar face or subbing in for those that couldn’t. Otherwise, you just worked behind computers.

“It’s simple; you get in, grab the files, get out.”

You rolled your eyes before looking down at the file she handed you. “It’s never that simple Nat, you know that. Besides, I have things to catch up on here.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong for thinking that. Based on the brief glances you gave the file it was essentially retrieving information in an abandoned hydra facility. If everything went according to plan, which almost never happened, you’d be back that same day.

The meeting room came into view and you handed her back the file. She accepted it with her usual smirk, that kind of smirk that meant she knows more than she’s letting on and made your stomach twist in anticipation for what she had planned.

Before opening the door she paused. “You sure you won’t change your mind?”

You didn’t respond, casting her a nervous look as you debated skipping the whole meeting. She chuckled before opening the door, letting you enter before she followed you in.

Safe to say, you changed your mind once you realized who else was assigned to the mission.

“Hey,” Bucky called out from across from you. He was already out of his seat. “You okay?”

“Yeah! Sorry, I just zoned out for a bit..” You quickly undid your seatbelt and started grabbing your things while simultaneously trying to ignore the embarrassment warming your ears. Regret settled in your chest— there was no way you’d be able to get through this mission undistracted, not while Bucky was here.

You heard Sam laugh from somewhere in the front. “Eyes on the prize people, can’t afford any distractions.”

He was right. You had to focus on the mission.

You felt the jet settle and begin to hover before a side door automatically opened. You glanced over and despite the darkness you noticed the area was different from what was shown in the mission briefing.

“I thought the drop off point was closer?” You yelled, hoping Sam heard you over the harsh winds.

“I looped around but didn’t see a clear landing spot, this is as close as I can get. You two are going to have to jump.” Sam yelled back.

You heard Bucky curse from beside you and you couldn’t help but let out an irritated sigh.

Great start to the mission.

You peered out the door to take a look at the drop. It wasn’t too bad— for a super soldier. There’s no way you’d be able to land safely, not without taking a few branches to the face on your way down and possibly breaking a bone or two. It was too high to jump regularly and too low for a parachute. You looked around, hoping to find a rope to throw over before Bucky suddenly jumped out without warning.

He landed silently with the skill only a trained soldier would have before gesturing you to follow, holding out his hands. You could faintly make out the words I’ll catch you and you swore your heart jumped out the plane without you.

There was no time to argue—the more time Sam spent hovering in the air the more likely it was that you would draw attention, regardless if the area was abandoned or not.

Trusting his words you jumped, feeling the harsh cold bite from the wind before it was quickly replaced with the warmth only another body could provide. He held you securely while you remained stiff as a board, still processing what you just did.

“Do you always jump out of planes without warning?” You tried to joke in an attempt to calm your racing heart. While your heart might’ve jumped out the moment bucky offered you his arms you were pretty sure your soul was still on the jet.

“Only when I need to.” He responds, gently setting you down and letting go when he’s sure you can stand on your own.

Your earpiece buzzed to life, catching the last bits of Sam’s laugh. “Alright, have fun you two. We’ll meet back in a few hours.”

With that Sam took off, leaving the two of you alone in the woods to walk the rest of the way.

Since joining to work with the Avengers one thing has been engraved into your mind.

Things never go as planned.

It should be obvious—plans change, especially in a field like this. You’ve learned how to adjust in order to accommodate those changes. Most of the time the information you receive before a mission is current, having been verified by multiple agents.

This was not one of those times.

Despite its run down appearance it turns out the facility was in fact not abandoned. You and Bucky quickly realized that once you began to get shot at.

“Fuck!—” You pulled back behind a wall as a bullet hit your side.

To your left across the hallway Bucky shot you a quick glance. Without saying anything he picked up a body that was nearby and used it as a shield against the bullets to cross the hallway and get to you.

“Shit, you okay?” He asked, waiting for the rain of bullets to end before he attempted to peek out and shoot back.

“Yeah totally.” You groaned, attempting to sit up but failing. Earlier, when you two were first noticed, you took a few hits while fighting. Later, your arm was grazed. You didn’t feel it at the moment but now the adrenaline was beginning to wear off and your eyelids were growing heavier by the minute. The blaring noise of the alarm wasn’t helping with the headache you were beginning to develop. You briefly remembered Sam’s words; had you been that distracted?

“Sam, do you copy?” Bucky asked, quickly attempting to shoot the assailants down the hall.

All you heard back was a jumbled mess of words followed by static.

“The walls must be messing with comms,” You groaned, handing him your gun when you noticed he was out of amo.

The stalemate continued for a few more seconds and you could tell Bucky was growing impatient. You two were outnumbered, Bucky would eventually run out of bullets and the agents would eventually close in. You instinctively ghost your hand over your blade to make sure it was still there—it was. There was no way you could fight and Bucky wouldn’t be able to defend both of you forever, but you’d sure as hell try.

Without warning Bucky slung your uninjured arm over his shoulder and began quickly dragging you down the hallway.

Left, right, left, right?—

The frequent turns he was taking only worsened your headache. You wanted to ask if he knew where he was going before he made a sharp turn and pushed past a door just as the footsteps approached. The two of you remained completely still, listening as the footsteps of the soldiers quickly passed by. Once the sound of footsteps disappeared you let out a sigh of relief and fully leaned against the wall before sliding down.

“Finally..” You breathed out, clutching your side. “I thought that only worked in movies..” You mumbled before shrugging off the outer layer of your outfit in order to look at the wound at your side and use it to absorb the blood.

“What?”

Before you got the chance to respond a whirring sound echoed from within the door followed by a harsh click. Bucky wiggled the door handle, but it refused to budge.

You immediately sit up in a panic. “Shit— they trapped us?”

Bucky shakes his head. “The whole building is on lockdown. They’re assuming we’re still looking for the exit and locked all doors to prevent us from leaving.” Bucky steps back while narrowing his eyes at the door. You could only assume he was debating whether or not to break it down.

“How are we going to get out? This place is a maze, completely different from the layout we were given..” You groaned, recalling the information they gave you. It’s clear whoever was running this place had made some upgrades.

Bucky looked over at you, eyes lingering on your bleeding side. “Our best bet is to stay put. The others will eventually realize something went wrong when we aren’t at the extraction point.”

A wave of guilt washes over you when you realize why. You put more pressure on your side, wishing the bleeding would stop entirely. “Eventually?..”

Bucky doesn’t respond, only crouches by your side before gently wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Let me take a look.”

You hesitantly allow him to remove your hand. He’s close, closer than he’d normally allow himself to be around anyone. He stares at your side for a moment longer, an unrecognizable emotion swirling around his blue eyes before he firmly places your hand back.

You know the wound is slightly deeper than the one you received on your arm, but nothing you couldn’t recover from. Still, it didn’t help the fact that it hurt like hell.

“So, how bad is it doc? Am I going to live?” You chuckle before wincing at the motion.

Bucky keeps his hand over yours. “You’ll be fine, just keep putting pressure.”

You nod and he slowly slips his hand away. You momentarily mourn the loss before he sits down next to you, keeping himself between you and the door. The distance is short, still close enough for your knees to brush if anyone moved, close enough to smell whatever cologne or shampoo he used.

“I need a coffee after this..” You mumble, attempting to sit up now that you were beginning to feel an ache in your lower back.

Bucky raised a brow. “A coffee?”

You nod. “Yeah, I always drink one in the morning, but not today.”

“Why not?”

“I was running late.” You breathed out a laugh, remembering your first encounter with the super soldier.

The first time you met him was early in the morning. You were running late for a meeting, because there was no way you would be able to get through the day without your coffee, and quickly turned a corner when you suddenly crashed into someone.

Your coffee spilled all over your clothes.

“What the!—” You immediately stopped once you noticed who you crashed into.

Sergeant James Barnes, or rather, Bucky as most people called him.

His mouth was moving, likely apologizing, but nothing was registering in your head. His eyes were furrowed and apologetic, his hair pulled back, and his skin shiny like he just came back from a workout.

Being this close to him, you realized he smelled surprisingly good.

Your gaze shifted behind him when you noticed a clock hanging on the wall, its ticking taunting you.

“No no, it’s fine! It’s just.. I gotta go!” You quickly rushed off once you remembered where you were headed.

Even though you went the whole day smelling like coffee you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him.

Running late was starting to become a bad habit, you noticed.

“You think there’s a chance they’ll figure out something went wrong before our pickup time?” You ask, gazing aimlessly at the ceiling.

Bucky shrugged. “If we’re lucky then they’ll already have figured it out.”

The silence that ensued wasn’t awkward, if it was you were too tired to notice. You looked around the room for the first time since you entered and noticed it looked completely unused. The room itself smelled stale and filing cabinets lined the walls with a few drawers left halfway pulled out. Whoever was here last left in a rush—you wonder how long ago that was.

Long enough for the layout to be completely changed. You hope you’ll remember to reprimand whoever was in charge of verifying the accuracy of the mission details.

However long ago that was, it was likely that they expected people to come looking for this place, but they probably never thought two agents would be stuck here waiting for help. You snuck a glance at Bucky. He’s still facing the door, jaw clenched, every part of him coiled like a spring—ready, waiting for something to pass through. It’s clear he’s thinking about something, you wonder if you’ll ever get to know what’s inside his head.

Bucky was only used for very specific missions, and in those cases he was usually accompanied by Steve, Nat, or even Sam. Someone the higher ups knew would be able to ‘handle’ him in case things went south, though they never have (and never will). With missions that required more agents you joined in, but those didn’t happen often. Even when they did, your interactions with the super soldier were limited. It’s not exactly the best idea to talk about mundane things while it’s raining bullets. The only other times you ran into him was during the briefings before a mission or randomly in the tower, and you savored every second. This was one of the few times he was sent out with someone apart from his usual trio and the only time he was sent out with you alone.

Maybe even the last given how messy the situation became.

You don’t know when you zone back into the moment, only becoming aware of it when you realize the alarm has stopped blaring beyond the door. A good sign, maybe they stopped looking for you two. Or maybe they’ve realized where you two are hiding and are on their way to ensure no one makes it out.

At some point Bucky reached over and placed his hand over yours, helping you apply more pressure on your wound. You hadn’t noticed you stopped.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve handled them faster.”

You snap your head in Bucky’s direction. “What? No, it’s not your fault.”

Bucky shakes his head, meeting your eyes for what feels like the first time this whole mission. “It is, the first time you got hit I reacted too slow. And now you’re—” He cuts himself off and looks away, clenching his hands.

You shift uncomfortably against the wall, the sting in your side a dull throb now. You’ve lost a decent amount of blood, you think, just enough for it to be worrisome. Maybe it’s the blood loss, but something you’ve been keeping unsaid is on the tip of your tongue.

Would now be a good time to say it? What would you even say?

There’s never a good time, you realize. Between your desk job, the missions, your rare run-ins with each other— this might be the only time you’re alone with him.

The two of you sit there against the wall with unspoken thoughts until you both decide to speak up.

“I like how you smell.”

“I think you’re afraid of me.”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

Bucky turns his head, brows raised, clearly just as thrown off as you. “Did you just say—?”

The door flew across the room, startling the both of you. Immediately Bucky was on his feet, your gun in his hand, aimed and ready to fire. When the dust settled a figure stepped through the door frame carrying a familiar red white and blue shield.

“It’s Captain America.” You happily cheered, only realizing how loopy you felt after hearing your own voice.

Nat emerged from behind him, rushing to your side. At that moment a wave of sleep hit you, making it harder for you to keep your eyelids open.

What happened after was mainly a blur. You vaguely remember being escorted out of the building and onto the jet. You knocked out on the ride back, briefly waking up when you were being wheeled out. In that small moment you were awake you noticed Bucky talking to Steve, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before he looked away.

You couldn’t forget how sad he looked or the blood that stained his hands, even as your consciousness faded.

You wondered if it was still possible to blame what you said on the blood loss.

Once you woke up, Dr. Cho informed you about what happened. Turns out you were lucky Nat and Steve got there when they did and even luckier that Dr. Cho was there when you were wheeled in, otherwise things would’ve gotten complicated. When you were shot the bullet passed all the way through, meaning you got to skip surgery and head straight into the regeneration cradle.

You healed during the night and were free to leave in the early morning.

Once out of the lab you headed straight to the kitchen, desperate for the coffee you’ve been craving since yesterday. The kitchen is empty, understandably so given the sun is barely peeking past the horizon. It’s the perfect scene for you to reflect on why of all things you had to say ‘I like how you smell’.

While the journey back to the tower remained a blur, what you revealed in that building was clear as day in your mind. The embarrassing secret you revealed followed by Bucky’s heart shattering confession.

You slammed a cup onto the counter.

You kept your hands busy, preparing your coffee, hoping it would distract you from feeling your heart crack. There was no way you would let the conversation end like that. You knew Bucky was never one to talk about his feelings and he likely wouldn’t open up again, but you refused to let the opportunity pass. You had to know why he felt that way and correct him. You had to let him know he was wrong, that there was no universe where you could fear him.

You grabbed your cup of coffee and began heading to your room. Once you were done you would head over to Bucky’s room and—

The sudden collision with something, or rather someone, sent you a few steps back, causing you to spill your coffee all over your clothes.

“I am so—Bucky?”

You pause once you notice who you crashed into and can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vú.

Bucky looks shocked to see you. His eyes immediately look to your side in an almost paranoid manner. “What are you doing up?” He asks.

“I just got out of the lab. I came to get my coffee, but..” You looked down at your coffee soaked clothes.

Bucky winced. “Sorry..”

He rushed over to the kitchen counter, grabbing some paper towels and passing some to you before helping you clean up the spilled coffee on the floor. As you patted yourself dry you figured now was as good a time as ever. “So, what are you doing up this early?”

He paused for a moment, seemingly contemplating his next words before continuing to soak up the mess. “Couldn’t sleep. Tried to let out some energy at the gym.”

Your mouth moved faster than you could think. “Why?”

He didn’t answer, continuing to clean an invisible spot on the floor. He refused to make eye contact. You had a feeling you already knew the answer.

It’s no secret Bucky struggles with nightmares. You heard the screaming before Tony soundproofed every room. You also knew about the mandatory therapy sessions and how every time he came back from a rough mission the lights in his room stayed on just a bit longer, like he was trying to keep something at bay. You knew the mess of the last mission likely didn’t help ease his conscience.

“What happened back there wasn’t your fault you know.” You mumbled, but you know he heard you when he stopped wiping the floor. “I.. I should be the one apologizing.”

That caught his attention. He opened his mouth to respond but you quickly cut him off. “I wasn’t focused, I let my personal feelings distract me. And—” You took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I did to make you believe that I’m afraid of you, but I promise that’s the furthest thing I feel when I’m with you.”

“Most people are afraid of me, what I’ve done.” He whispered, but in that empty kitchen you felt like it echoed against every wall.

“I’m not most people. Bucky,” You crouch beside him. “You have been nothing but kind to me, to everyone. You think your past defines you, but I’ve seen who you are now. You’re always looking out for others and taking the hit just so we can make it out unharmed. You’re different now.”

You hesitantly reach out, gently placing your hand over his when he doesn’t pull away. “You carry all this pain like it's your punishment, like saving people and sacrificing yourself is the price you pay for what happened back then, but you don't owe anyone your suffering, Bucky. You deserve more, so much more."

Bucky doesn’t say anything at first. His jaw clenches, eyes fixed on a crack in the floor like it might split open and hopefully swallow him whole. You can practically feel the war happening behind his blue eyes—old guilt clawing at the edges because of what you just said.

Finally, he exhales through his nose. “Different doesn’t mean good.”

“It does to me.”

He huffs. “Every time we meet it’s like you can’t get away from me fast enough.”

“That!—” You feel your ears burn in embarrassment. He’s interpreted your skittish behavior around him as fear. “—is for a different reason..”

He looks at you unamused.

“Oh come on..” You groan. “I already embarrassed myself back at the building, don’t make me repeat it..”

When he refuses to answer you can only sigh.

“It’s not that I’m afraid of you, I just don’t know how to act around you without making a fool of myself. As you can clearly see,” You point down at your now coffee stained clothes. “If anything I’m afraid of how I feel about you, because I like you, but I don’t want to ruin what we have or pressure you into anything by saying it!”

The silence is deafening. You feel as though the room is on fire as embarrassment continues to course through your body. You contemplate leaving, slowly beginning to stand when Bucky responds.

“And if I said I was afraid of the same thing?”

You freeze.

“I thought you hated me and that made me hate myself even more.” He continued. “With everything I’ve done I thought there’s no way I’d be able to change your mind, to show you I’m.. different now. I didn’t think I deserved it.”

He stood up, throwing the coffee soaked paper towels into the trash. “You never got your coffee, did you?”

“At this point I think it’s a sign that maybe I should stop drinking so much.” You laugh, hoping he doesn’t hear how fast your heart is beating.

“So if I asked you out for coffee, you’d say no?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you’re nearly convinced he heard it when you see a hint of a smile on his face. “I never said that..” You mumbled, fiddling with the paper towel still in your hand.

He called your name and you couldn’t resist meeting his gaze. His eyes bore into yours as he hesitantly approached you. “Are you free later? I think I know a place that sells good coffee. I owe you at least one after, well, everything.”

You quickly nodded your head. “Yeah yeah, today’s good, I just gotta..” You look down at your outfit. It’s the same one you wore on the mission—covered in blood, sweat, and now coffee. “.. shower.”

Bucky quickly nodded. “Me too, I’ll uh.. pick you up at three?”

“Ok,” You laughed, waving at him while walking towards the hall. “See you later.”

Once you turned the corner you nearly let out a squeal, causing you to almost crash into Nat, who wore a suspicious smile on her face. “Nat! You scared me, what’re you doing here?” You place your hand over your heart, hoping it’d slow down. You’ve had enough excitement for the day.

“I had a feeling you’d be here, I thought you’d be alone though.” She snuck a glance behind you, clearing having caught you and Bucky together. You try to ignore her by walking away, but she’s quick to catch up. As you two walked further away from the kitchen she bumped her hip with yours.

“So.. besides getting shot and nearly bleeding out, how’d the mission go?” Nat asked.

You took a moment to think of an answer. You were shot, nearly bled to death in a hydra closet, and you revealed to your hallway crush that you liked how he smelled while he was attempting to have a emotional conversation with you.

“I’m so glad I took that mission.”

thank you for reading till the end! reblogs are greatly appreciated :D

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