#I don’t care if it happened to you it happened to me more

[pucksandpower]

Free Fucking Country

Max Verstappen x First Daughter of the US!Reader

Summary: the FIA needs a reality check — you’ve known this since they decided to punish your grown ass boyfriend for daring to say “fucked” in a press conference — and what better way to do this than by taking full advantage of your First Amendment rights … live on camera?

The Texas sun beats down on the circuit. You’re standing off to the side, watching the race from a monitor, arms crossed. There’s an edge to your stance, a tightness in your jaw that no one’s missed, least of all Nico Rosberg.

“You look like you’re going to murder someone,” Nico says, chuckling under his breath. “Who’s the unlucky victim?”

You shoot him a sideways glance, not quite smiling. “Not someone. More like the entire FIA.”

Jenson Button raises a brow from his spot beside Nico. He’s been fiddling with a microphone, but now his full attention is on you. “Ah. Still upset about Singapore, then?”

You roll your eyes. “Still upset? I’m livid, Jenson. They punished Max for swearing. Swearing. Like, are we adults or are we running a kindergarten here?”

Nico and Jenson exchange a look, trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

“They’ve done worse to other drivers, to be fair,” Nico says, playing the diplomat despite the thirst for drama you know is itching to escape.

“I don’t care!” Your voice rises a little, and you realize you’re pacing now, hands flying around in frustration. “They target Max like he’s public enemy number one, and I swear it’s just because he’s honest. They can’t handle it when someone actually tells the truth!”

Nico nods, clearly amused by your rant but trying to stay neutral. “True. Max does have a ... blunt way of putting things.”

“He shouldn’t have to censor himself. It’s not like he was even that bad. They act like he threatened to burn down the paddock.” You huff, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “It’s just so stupid.”

Nico leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what are you going to do? You’re not exactly on the FIA’s Christmas card list either.”

A slow grin spreads across your face, and Nico’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh no. I don’t like that look. That’s trouble.”

Jenson smirks. “What’s she planning?”

“I need a favor,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. You glance over at the camera setup behind them. “Can I borrow your camera for a minute?”

Both men stare at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“You want to go live? On Sky Sports?” Jenson asks, blinking in disbelief.

You shrug. “Why not?”

Nico shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re something else.”

But he steps aside, making way for you to take his place. “Alright, have at it. Just … maybe don’t get us all banned from the paddock, yeah?”

You wink. “No promises.”

Without missing a beat, you step in front of the camera, and within seconds, you’re live. Your pulse quickens, adrenaline buzzing in your veins. The weight of the moment hits you, but it only fuels your determination.

You clear your throat. “Hi, everyone! It’s me, your friendly neighborhood First Daughter, coming to you live from the US Grand Prix. Now, before we get back to the race, I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Nico and Jenson are barely holding back their laughter behind you, but you ignore them, fixing your gaze on the lens.

“Max Verstappen got punished for swearing during a press conference last week. Punished. For swearing. And you know what? That’s bullshit.”

The words fly out of your mouth, sharp and unfiltered. There’s a moment of stunned silence around you as people start to realize what’s happening.

You keep going, voice rising with every sentence. “The FIA is out of control. They’re so focused on micromanaging everything that they’ve forgotten what this sport is supposed to be about. Racing. Competition. Passion.”

Nico’s eyes widen as he leans toward Jenson. “Oh my God, she’s really doing it.”

Jenson just grins, watching in awe. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

You don’t let up. “You want to punish someone for being honest? For being real? Then punish me too, because I’m about to say a hell of a lot more.”

You can see people gathering around, eyes glued to the monitors. You’ve got their attention now, and you’re not backing down.

“The FIA is so far up their own asses, they can’t see what’s really going on. Drivers are out there risking their lives, pushing the limits, and all they care about is how polite they are in a press conference? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You wave your hands around, the frustration boiling over. “I’m sick of this shitty double standard. Max gets penalized for cursing, but the countless times that the FIA has done something much worse? Silence. It’s ridiculous.”

By now, there’s a crowd forming around you. You see a few FIA officials watching from the corner, looking like they’re trying to figure out what to do. You don’t stop.

“If the FIA wants to keep policing language, they should start by looking at themselves. They’re a bunch of fucking hypocrites who don’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a real racer. They’re killing the spirit of the sport.”

Just then, you spot one of the stewards marching toward you, followed by two security guards. You flash a grin at the camera. “Oh look, here they come. The fun police.”

The steward, a stern-looking man with a clipboard, stops right in front of you. “Ma’am, you need to leave immediately.”

You laugh, leaning into the camera, making sure everyone’s still watching. “Really? You’re gonna kick me out for talking? Last time I checked, this is a free fucking country. First Amendment, bitches! Try to shut me up, I dare you.”

The steward’s face reddens. “You need to leave, now.

But before the security guards can even move, your Secret Service detail materializes out of nowhere, surrounding you. They stand tall, arms crossed, ready to intervene.

You laugh again, this time louder. “Oh, you didn’t think about that, did you? You can’t kick me out. What are you gonna do, arrest the President’s daughter on live TV?”

The steward looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s nothing he can do. He steps back, clearly out of his depth, while the camera continues rolling.

You take a deep breath, calming down just enough to finish your rant with a flourish. “So, FIA, if you’re watching — and I know you are — get your act together. Start treating the drivers like adults, and stop with the petty bullshit. Or I swear, I’ll make it my mission to drag you on the broadcast every single fucking race.”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you. You turn just in time to see Max walking up, eyes wide, clearly catching on to what’s happening. He looks from you to the cameras, then back to you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Without a word, he steps forward, wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s sudden, unexpected, but it’s the kind of kiss that makes time stop, the kind that speaks louder than words.

When he pulls away, there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “You always know how to make a scene.”

You shrug, a mischievous grin on your face. “Someone’s gotta stand up for you.”

Max laughs, shaking his head. “Well, you sure did.”

Nico and Jenson are clapping from behind, both of them thoroughly entertained. Jenson leans into the camera, grinning from ear to ear. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N, everybody.”

You step back, still grinning, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The steward looks like he’s given up entirely, and the crowd is buzzing with energy.

Max leans in close, his voice low. “You know you’re going to get a lot of hate for this, right?”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Let them try. I’m not scared of a little backlash.”

He shakes his head, eyes shining with admiration. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m just getting started.”

[furuu]

‎𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ˳ 　　　It was late, and the house was quiet as you shifted uncomfortably in bed. The cramps had been gnawing at your abdomen all night, making it impossible to fall into a deep sleep. You tried not to move too much, not wanting to disturb Sukuna, who was resting beside you. He rarely seemed vulnerable, but in his sleep, his sharp features softened just enough to remind you that even the King of Curses needed rest.

But no matter how hard you tried to keep still, your body betrayed you. A small, pained groan escaped your lips as another wave of cramps tightened around your stomach, causing you to curl in on yourself. Sukuna’s body twitched beside you, and for a moment, you thought he was still asleep. Until you heard it—a low, rumbling growl from deep in his chest.

You froze. Was he... growling?

It took a few seconds before you realized what was happening. The faint scent of blood must’ve hit his heightened senses, and like a predator picking up on the tiniest shifts in the air, Sukuna was reacting to it. His brow furrowed slightly as he inhaled through his nose, the smell of your period filling his senses. He shifted in his sleep, instinctively moving closer to you, a territorial edge to the way his arm draped over your waist.

You could feel his fingers twitching against your skin as if unconsciously staking his claim. Another small growl escaped him, softer this time but no less possessive.

Suddenly, his eyes fluttered open, and you found yourself face-to-face with a very awake—and very intense—Sukuna. His crimson gaze locked onto yours, still hazy from sleep but filled with an unmistakable sense of protectiveness.

“You’re in pain,” he said gruffly, voice low and rough from sleep. “I can feel it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, your face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just… cramps. It’s nothing, really—”

His grip on you tightened just slightly, cutting off your sentence as he stared at you, his eyes narrowing in a way that left no room for argument. “Dumb girl,” he warned, as if what he said before was the most obvious thing in the world. His tone was matter-of-fact, yet there was an underlying possessiveness in the way he said it, as if it was something unbreakable. “I will keep you safe, as your king.”

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Sukuna, it’s just—”

“I don’t care what it is,” he interrupted, his voice softening just a little, though the stubbornness was still there. “Your body is suffering, and I will ease your pain.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the intensity in his gaze left you speechless. He didn’t just want to help—you could tell he needed to, like some primal instinct had taken over. Just like how animals got protective and snuggly around women on their periods, Sukuna’s instincts were flaring up. You could see it in the way his muscles tensed, the way he hovered protectively over you, as if keeping you safe from something unseen.

You sighed, feeling your embarrassment wash away as you realized how serious he was. “It’s just… it’s a little embarrassing,” you admitted softly, looking down. “I don’t want to bother you.”

Sukuna let out a quiet snarl of irritation. “You’re my mate. You’ll never bother me.” He shifted, pulling you closer into his chest as his large hand splayed across your abdomen, the warmth of his palm immediately soothing against your aching muscles. “Let me take care of you.”

Despite the initial embarrassment, the heat of his body and the firm but gentle pressure of his hand on your stomach made you relax. The pain wasn’t as sharp with him so close, and the reassurance in his gravely voice eased some of the discomfort in your chest, too.

You snuggled into him, allowing yourself to rest against his tattooed chest. His growls quieted into a soft rumble, more like a contented purr now, as he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“I’ve got you,” Sukuna murmured, his voice a quiet, possessive promise. “You’re mine. No one gets to hurt you. Not even your own body.”

And even though it was still a little embarrassing, you felt safer than ever wrapped in his arms, knowing that he would always be there to protect you—even from something as simple as cramps.　　‿ ݂۫ ׄ ༊࿔

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 3 - Bolt

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Back again! I have split the final chapter into two parts as it makes more sense that way, you’ll see why when you read the last one – which hopefully I should be able to post later this week, or early next – I’m just working on getting it right. Warnings for angst, angst and angst in this part – sorry in advance. I felt a bit weepy writing this. I’ve been blown away by the support this story has received, especially as it was written on a bit of a whim, so thank-you for all your reblogs and comments – it means a lot!! Also shout-out to the recent Variety SebStan photoshoot - very inspirational...

💔

You were sleeping like the dead, it was a miracle that anything could’ve woken you – but the soft click of the hotel door opening must’ve cut through the void somehow, because you shot up in bed awake, disorientated and suddenly on alert. Your breathing was heavy as you adjusted to your surroundings. What…where were…?

Bucky gently closed the door behind him and rushed over to your bedside.

“Hey, hey…it’s just me, you’re okay doll. I’m sorry I startled you. I was trying to slip in quietly…” he cooed, “I thought knocking might be too jarring…stupidly…”

You blinked at him, you were just able to make out his face in the dark as recognition sunk in. His features were subtly illuminated by the parking lot lights, the room’s curtains doing little to keep that glare out. He looked tired and drained; his hair unkempt. There was a weariness in his face that you hadn’t seen before. You groggily flicked on the bedside lamp as your brain caught up with the rest of you.

For a blissful moment you’d forgotten it all, from the haze of sleep, you’d forgotten why you were here. Bucky! Bucky is here! Your safe place. You began to smile and instinctively moved towards him. He smiled too, a relieved smile, holding out a hand to you so you reached for it with your own –

Wait.

Oh.

You saw the hope in his eyes dwindle when you jerked away from him, a scowl hardening your expression as you whipped your hand back as quickly as if it had been burnt. You pulled the sheets high and tight, covering your body as if you didn’t like that any of you was visible to him.

As he tried to lean over to get closer to you, you greeted him with a blunt, hard slap across the face.

He recoiled, his hand moving to his stinging cheek as he stood up to his full height and stepped back, “fine. I deserved that…”

“What are you doing here?” you sneered, “How did you even get in?”

He tilted his head towards the door and held up a key card, “They let me in. They gave me a key”.

“Well, they shouldn’t have! They shouldn’t just give away door keys to random people…”

“They don’t, just me,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, “You think this is funny?”

“Doll…” he reached out to you again, but you smacked his hand away.

“No,” you growled.

“I found out the truth…I know it wasn’t you. I’m so sor-” he sounded frantic, stuttering and jumbled, worlds away from the cool and collected man you knew so well. But you were unmoved, his betrayal still stinging and raw.

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, your tone flat and cold, “it’s too late”.

“I should’ve listened to you. I’m so sorry, baby. I flew off the handle without talking to you. I should’ve trusted you…” he pleaded.

“Yes, you should’ve,” you snapped bitterly, “but you didn’t. You wouldn’t let me talk, you just shouted…then you threw me out with nothing! Like I was trash! I walked for nearly two miles alone in the dark, in the middle of the night, Bucky. Anything could’ve happened to me…” your voice wobbled slightly at the end of your sentence; you took a deep breath – refusing to let anymore tears fall for him.

He dipped his head, his gaze dropping, unable to look at you. “I know, you’re right…I keep thinking about it…I keep…”

“Save it!” you shouted, a little more emotional than you intended. “All I wanted was for you to listen to me. I don’t know anything about a recording, or my phone pinging, or whatever you were ranting about. I just can’t believe you wouldn’t believe me, after everything we’ve been through…”

He sighed heavily, then withdrew his phone from his pocket. He began to scroll through.

You scoffed, “what are you-”

And then your voice, clear as day, rang out from his phone. Bucky held it up towards you, his face pained. You listened, stunned, as you heard yourself on the recording. It was so real you almost considered that it was you, and you’d somehow forgotten that you’d actually said it.

“Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything…”

After it had finished, you furrowed your brows in confusion, your mouth hanging open.

“But that wasn’t…” you whispered.

“I know. I know that now,” he sighed, putting the phone back in his pocket. “Rumlow set it up. He put it together with cutting edge AI, some advanced tech Stark helped develop. He also planted fake footage of you on the CCTV. Took your phone to an incriminating location. But Sam caught him tonight. He’s been working with the feds to bring me down, to make room for a HYDRA revival. He knew I’d be weaker and easier to takedown if you and I fell apart, so breaking us up was a two-birds-one-stone deal”.

You blinked, bewildered, a chill running through you as you thought about the lengths someone would go to in order to break you and Bucky up. You knew a little about HYDRA, the rival syndicate that Bucky used to work for before he struck out on his own. They’d been defunct for years, or so Bucky had told you. The implication of someone being able to make your voice say anything they wanted also haunted you. Rumlow could’ve even framed you for a crime with such technology. It was…scary.

You could see why Bucky freaked out, presented with all of this incriminating evidence, but…

“Rumlow didn’t break us up, Bucky”, you said quietly as your words sharpened. “You did. You could’ve come to me first. You could’ve showed me this and we could’ve set everything straight. Instead…you went nuclear…”

He dropped his gaze again to the threadbare hotel carpet, unable to meet your eye. It was almost funny, he looked small for the first time since you’d met him. Despite his towering height and hulking frame, he almost seemed like a little boy in that moment.

“…I just can’t believe you thought I’d do something like that to you. That I’d betray you like that. That I could look you in the eye every day and lie to you and…”

He suddenly looked up, quickly snatching your hand, “I’m so sorry, doll, this is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made…I’d do anything to take it back…”

“Well you can’t!” you sniped back at him as you tore your hand away from his, tears in your eyes. “You must think so low of me that you think I’d be capable of this. And all the stuff you said about me leeching off you for your money! I’ve never been comfortable spending your cash and you know that! I can’t believe you’d throw it all back in my face…”

“Baby, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean of it. I was hurt…” he said, the desperation building in his voice as his eyes widened, “I was just trying to hurt you the way I thought you’d hurt me. I didn’t really think it. I never have”.

“It must’ve come from somewhere!” you spat venomously, “you didn’t pull it out of thin air…”

“I promise. I was just throwing words out and didn’t care what they were as long as they hit. I just was so mad,” he sat down on the bed and began running his hands through his hair as he closed his eyes, he always did that when he was stressed.

He sighed heavily, then turned to you, “Look”, he began – his voice soft now. “I guess part of me always thought this was too good to be true…everything happened so quickly when we met. I’d always been content with one-night stands and casual hook-ups. Then I met you, and…” he trailed off as he chewed his lip, carefully choosing what to say.

You watched him, your earlier anguish now hardened into pure rage, you wanted to kick him out – send him out into the street the way he had with you. But you also wanted to hear this. You wanted to understand what possible reasoning there could be for causing of this pain. What weak excuse he could use to try and justify his cruelty. He looked at you again. His eyes were kind, warm. But you couldn’t help but remember the coldness in them from earlier. You didn’t think you’d ever forget it.

“I guess…everything changed. I fell for you so hard. You took over my life. Invaded my thoughts, my senses. I just wanted to be with you all the time. And to my surprise…you felt the same. This sweet, wonderful woman wanted to be with me, too. I was sure you’d turn away when you found about my job…my past…my scars, my arm... Because why wouldn’t you? You were kind and decent. You saw the best in people. How the hell could you love someone like me? A killer. A monster…”

“Bucky, I…” you croaked.

“Please, just let me finish…” he pleaded, “but somehow, you did love me. And I know you moved in with me quickly, but it felt right. You had a rough start in life, and all I ever wanted to do was take care of you and fix it so you didn’t have to worry about money or paying bills or any of that ever again. I wanted you to sleep soundly, knowing I would protect you and do right by you and you wouldn’t have to sling burgers and fries to get by anymore. And part of me knew it was selfish…because you deserved better than me. You deserved the white picket fence, a dull but decent man with a boring job who comes home and tells you about whatever shit Janet in Accounting got up to that day. But no, you had me – who stole you from that peaceful future to make myself happy. I worked late and committed violent acts. I had to give you bodyguards just in case. I uprooted your entire life. I did my best to give you the love you deserve, but I couldn’t even get that right. When I heard that tape…it was like the universe telling me what I already knew - I wasn’t worthy, and the debt I owed was getting collected. I guess part of me always expected I’d inevitably screw it up, because I never deserved you in the first place. And I’m just sorry that I proved myself right”.

You sniffed back your tears, bowled over by his words. He’d never said anything like this to you before, you had no idea he held those insecurities. The silence hung heavily between you, until you finally spoke, your voice shaky.

“But I was happy slinging burgers. And I never wanted the boring guy. I never wanted the white picket fence. I wanted you, Buck. Only you. I knew who you truly were, and it didn’t matter. It never mattered. You did deserve me. You did deserve love and everything we had…until…well…this”.

He nodded sadly, taking your hand in his.

“I know that now, doll, I do. I ended up sabotaging the best thing that ever happened to me because of my own fears. And that’s on me. But look…I need to ask, do you think you could ever forgive me? I’ll do whatever it takes, I’ll go at whatever pace you want…We can just be friends and see how it goes. I’ll go to therapy to sort out my shit. Anything. I’ll never doubt you again. All I ask is that you give me one final chance to fix this. Please, doll…I’m begging you…”

You looked into his big blue eyes, glossy with his unshed tears. Your heart ached and twisted at the sight. You’d never seen him looking so vulnerable before, so lost. You loved him so very much. You would’ve taken a bullet for him if he’d asked. He was correct that the two of you had moved fast in your whirlwind romance, but it always felt like a natural progression. It had always felt right.

But something had shifted. Something monumental. And you didn’t know if it could ever be like it was. It was wrong now.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I can’t….I…” you whispered, squeezing his hand as your tears began to fall. “I want to…I just…I don’t know if I can…”

He inhaled deeply and your heart shattered as you saw the flash of anguish in his eyes. But then he took a moment, a sad but accepting smile creeping over his face. He leaned over and wiped away your tears with his thumb.

“It’s alright, doll” he told you softly. “This was my fault. I’m not gonna force it or push you to forgive if you’re not comfortable doing so, okay? Not because I don’t care or don’t want to fight for you. But because I love you, and loving someone means sometimes you have to let them go”.

You nodded as you looked up into his eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“Hey, c’mon…” he soothed.

He quickly vanished into the en-suite bathroom, returning with a small wad of toilet paper to dab at your tear-soaked cheeks. He extended a finger and gently moved it under your chin, propping your face up to look at his. The tenderness and care he showed you was what you were used to with Bucky. This was the version of him you’d always known. It almost made you forget about everything. Almost.

You both shared a small smile. A melancholic smile, a smile that you both understood meant too much had happened here tonight. Too much had changed. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Nothing was spoken, but everything was said.

It was hard to know how much time had passed, but eventually he got up and moved to the door. You didn’t stop him, and he didn’t ask you to. He ran a finger over your trusty red backpack as he passed the desk. He chuckled and picked it up, “I should’ve known this old thing was involved. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how you left with no clothes or money…but you’ve always been the most resourceful person I know.”

You smiled back at him weakly.

“It’s funny…” he mused as he caressed the straps, “you had this emergency kit already to go. Just in case…”

You shook your head, “no…it wasn’t meant to be a kit, it was just left from where I moved in with you. I didn’t-I just dumped it when I…”

“Yes…left fully packed and untouched. With clothes and cash. And debit cards, presumably. Stashed in a closet by the front door. That doesn’t strike you as a choice? A plan? Even if you weren’t fully aware of it?” he asked.

You didn’t respond as the silence laid thick between you. Incisive Bucky, as always. He could read you better than anyone on the planet. You knew he was right, he knew it too. You swallowed, looking down at the frayed thread on the bedsheet.

“You are always planning, doll. Because you always had to, with the life you’ve had. You always had to keep moving and stay one step ahead. We both know that”.

Again, he was met with your silence as you pulled at the thread. But there was no denial. You couldn’t deny the truth.

“Guess we both had our own ejector seats for this plane,” he mused as he moved the bag back to how he found it. “Looks like we had even more in common than we knew”.

He was right, again. It seemed that both of you had your anxieties and insecurities about this relationship. Both of you were maybe a little too cynical and world weary to believe in happy ever afters. His had manifested in anger, in rage…yours in being ready to flee at any time. Both of you had been on the starting line waiting for that pistol to fire.

But it had only finally imploded because of him.

He continued his slow march to the door, clearing his throat as he looked back at you.

“I meant what I said, every word. I’d do anything to get you back. I’d go at any pace, I’d take whatever you offered – in any form, as long as I’m still in your life in some way. I’d spend the rest of my days apologising if I had to. But honestly, I’d also be happy just to be your friend. Okay? So, you can call me, text me, anytime. Hell, just send me an emoji. Even if you just to talk. Even just to yell at me. I’ll always pick up, I promise”.

He pulled a business card from his wallet and placed it on the desk, “here. Put my number in your new phone when you get one”.

You stayed mute, but your eyes followed his hand as he gently put the card down.

“Will you be okay? For money, I mean?” he asked as his hand rested on the doorhandle, “because I can…”

“I’ll be fine Buck, I always am”.

“Yeah doll, I know”, he said softly.

Neither of you said goodbye. Maybe it was too hard to actually say the word out loud. Speak it into existence and accept its reality. So, he just nodded at you, and you smiled back, and you tried not to think about the tears glistening in his eyes or that painful tugging in your chest.

A few seconds later he was gone, and then it was as if he’d never been there at all.

[sanemistar]

᧔o᧓ choso x gn!reader, fluff, based on this

you and choso have been talking on the phone for hours now, and you only realize now that it’s getting very late. both of you need to get sleep. this always happens whenever you two have late night calls together, because you enjoy each other’s company so much that you lose track of time.

“babe, we should hang up and go to bed. i’ll call you when i wake up.” you notify your boyfriend, but he protects at your statement.

“just five more minutes, please. i still want to talk to you.” choso whines, he just can’t get enough of you, he wants to spend as much time with you as possible.

“but, choso… it’s getting too late. i don’t want you to lose sleep because of me.” as much as you also want to keep talking to him, you still try to convince him to hang up. because you care about him, and to you his health come first, and it’s the most important thing.

“i don't mind losing sleep if it means i get to stay up with you, love.” choso coos, his tone is so soft against your ear. your heart almost skips a beat, and you feel yourself succumbing in eventually, his smooth words are just too tempting to resist.

“fine, just five more minutes.” you announce in defeat, and he chuckles. you know that they won’t be just five minutes and you two will end up staying up until the sunrise.

୨୧ taglist: @yueliie @spkyssn @ayrastv | back: jjk m.list

[maruflix]

  — ★ hell hath no fury...

☆ — like a woman scorned.

featuring: narumi gen x f!reader

synopsis: it was at this moment narumi gen knew... he fucked up.

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the first division, hoshina’s little sister!reader, narumi is an idiot, men who beg and grovel, no beta we die like narumi’s hair in the anime

word count: 1,8k

Heav’n has no Rage,

Narumi Gen knows he fucked up.

He can see it in his subordinates’ eyes, in the way they all ignore his silent plea for them to acknowledge the levity of his earlier statement.

“Without me to watch your back, you’re practically dispensable.”

Gen thought everyone knew he was just kidding.

He rethinks that, because you — the one who never backs down from a playful banter — immediately fall silent.

“I-I’m sure the captain didn’t mean that.”

“Of course I did.”

Of course he didn’t. But in the heat of the moment, he can only blame Kikoru for opening her mouth and forcing him to say words he didn’t mean.

Because what else could he do? Apologize?

There’s a heavy tension around the cafetaria table, and it still hangs in the air even after you gathered your belongings and left with a clatter.

like Love to Hatred turn’d,

“Here.”

You barely spare him a glance, opting instead to take a fresh towel from the rack.

Gen purses his lips, gripping the towel he offered you before bringing his hand down to rest on his sides.

“So, uh, you wanna play that new game tonight?”

You’ve been avoiding him these past few weeks and it’s killing him more than he’d like to admit. To usually have you by his side and suddenly be robbed of your company…

You straighten your chin. Gen feels like he’s going to choke.

He’s still standing in the same spot even after you stand up and leave. Behind him, he can hear you laughing with the other officers.

Practice used to be fun, now it’s like he’s walking on eggshells or the chill in the air will freeze him solid if he’s not careful. The worst part? They pretend like nothing is wrong.

It’s not like anything happened after the incident — life goes on as normal in the Ariake Maritime Base. The same practice, the same missions, the same meetings. No one spoke of the incident. Not even you.

Still, he knows your relationship with him changed, and not in the way he intended. He wants to continue being the person who everybody thought is your boyfriend, but is actually your best friend, but it’s complicated because he kinda has feelings for you. But now you won’t even acknowledge his existence.

Gen knows he has to apologize.

But he doesn’t know how.

Nor Hell a Fury,

“What?! You haven’t apologized?!”

Gen doesn’t understand what the big deal is. Everyone knows that you’re always involved in some sort of bickering with him.

The two of you compete about everything. To him, being able to compete with someone fair and square is rare — it’s proof enough that the two of you are on equal footing. So why is everyone acting like one nonsensical sentence from him discredits all your achievements and prowess?

If he says he’s the Director of the Defense Force, will old man Shinomiya instantly step down from his position and give him the spot?

“… No, I don’t feel the need to.”

Eiji shakes his head. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Gen sighs and looks to the side.

Truthfully, he regrets it already. Why else would he discuss his relationship with Hasegawa Eiji, of all freaking people? You ignore his texts, reject all his calls, pretends like he doesn’t exist, and you even exit the room when he comes in. He’s desperate, that’s why.

Gen admits that he was never good with words. He’s better at showing you how he feels through his actions. Now he can’t even do that, because you don’t let him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Gen breathes out a shaky; “What should I do?”

“I have an idea,” Eiji starts, “but I don’t know if you’re brave enough to do it.”

When Gen opens his eyes, there’s a newfound determination in them.

like a Woman scorn’d.

“Sir, please, you can’t just enter like this..!”

Narumi Gen has never let a kaiju stop him, let alone a mere attendant. He storms his way past the flurry of housekeepers, gardeners, and household staff — all of them combined is not nearly enough to stop him.

He halts in front of the wooden steps leading up to the front doors, huffing and catching his breath.

The stately Hoshina Estate looks intimidating with the shiny thatched roofs reflecting the brilliant sun.

The attendants have caught up to him now, their footsteps thudding on the rocks behind him. Hushed whispers of his identity and his purpose of coming reverberates through the field, making his chaotic heart thunder loudly in his chest.

“(Y/N), please come out! I’ve come to see you!”

For a moment, no one dares to step forward.

What is the Narumi Gen doing here? It’s no secret that Japan’s strongest anti-kaiju combatant has always been at odds with the Hoshina Family’s Hoshina Soshiro, but why has he come seeking for their young lady?

They all wait with bated breath. There is no response. What will he do next?

Gen gets down to his knees.

“(Y/N), please..!!”

The attendant from before scrambles to his side, gripping his arm in an effort to drag him out. Gen stubbornly stays rooted to his spot. He’s prepared to do this, however long it takes.

“Sir, please don’t cause any problems!”

“I just need a few seconds, please!” Gen frantically reasons, “(Y/N), I want to apologize, so please come out, damn it!”

A second attendant seizes his other arm, and just as he thought he’s going to fail, the front doors slide open.

Gen looks up to see you staring down at him. Next to you, your brother crosses his arms as his gaze trails down to him in amusement. The two Hoshina siblings, dressed in hakama, katanas resting snugly on both your hips as it gleams in the sunlight.

A shiver runs down Gen’s spine at the coldness of your glare.

The attendants immediately bow in your presence, “Our apologies for the ruckus. This person suddenly broke down the gate and forced his way in, insisting to meet with the Young Lady,” The attendant throws Gen a glare, to which he ignores, “Young Lord Soshiro, should we throw him out?”

“Should we, Lil’ Sis?” Hoshina Soshiro wraps an arm around you protectively, “What’s this clown doing here anyway. Should I get Soichiro?”

“No, no, wait! (Y/N), I made a mistake!” Gen inches his body up but immediately bows back again to retain his kneeling position, his legs now shivering from adrenaline, “I didn’t mean what I said that day! I was wrong, and I.. I’m sorry!”

He’s pretty sure the entire household can hear him screaming, but he genuinely doesn’t give a shit.

“You’re indispensable to the First Division and you totally don’t need me to watch your back, I was just.. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Gen doesn’t even dare to lift his face up, “I really regret saying those words, I…”

“Look at me when you apologize.”

Your sharp reply makes his head jolt upwards.

He can see an amused smirk creeping on your lips as you finally humor his attempt of trying to get your forgiveness.

“So you stormed my family estate just for this? Can’t this wait ‘til tomorrow?”

Gen shakes his head. “I’ve waited long enough to apologize. Am I forgiven?”

You smile. “Well, now. No need to beg.”

Like a cue, the attendants finally let go of his aching arms.

You step to the side, inviting him to enter. “I was just training with my brothers. Wanna join?”

Gen practically beams as he makes his way to you. He trips on the last step, almost falling on his face, and smiles sheepishly when he finally reaches the door. “Pardon the intrusion.”

The two men watches as you walk back inside with a smile on your face.

Soshiro shakes his head. “Yer’ a mess.”

Gen laughs. “For your sister, I always am.”

They make their way inside, walking in a comfortable pace.

“Don’t let Soichiro hear that. Yer’ gonna get a beating.”

“If that means we can be brother-in-laws, sure.”

Soshiro scrunches his nose in disgust. “Wouldn’t count on it. Yer’ not even dating.”

Gen hums. Maybe he should ask Eiji how to go about that.

taglist: @bgyuus, @plsmarrymehioriyo, @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @moon-cakiie, @17020, @eeiternity, @ryescapades, @vash-yuu, @yueliie (tags not working as usual so i will be tagging in the comments smh)

[luveline]

do you think you could do something with zombie au where reader is on her period? thank you!!

thank you for your request! fem, 1k

You’ve gotten your period three times since the apocalypse began. The first time, you and Steve were just beginning to get along, and he’d proved why you trust him as you do, treating the whole thing with kindness. More recently, he’s your unofficial boyfriend. Like, kissing you and holding you, but foregoing the conversation that would make you an official couple. 

Either he doesn’t want to be official (which is fine, it’s not like he’s going anywhere), or you’re official without words. You’ve assumed the latter because the former makes you nauseous. 

Not that you need much help in that department. Your stomach churns like a tide, bouts of sickness and pain that hit you rampantly as you follow Steve downstairs. 

“Can I take my shoes off?” you ask. 

“Why are you asking me? It’s not my house.” Steve descends the last step and holds his hand behind him for you. Seemingly to help you down a step you don’t need help with. 

You’re asking because taking your shoes off means getting comfy for the night, and he doesn’t want to do that at every house you break into.

You don’t explain yourself. You follow Steve into the living room, hoping he’s going to take your hand again. He nudges you with his hip into a mildly dusty couch. 

You sit. “What, are we gonna watch TV?” you joke. 

“You look sickly.” 

That’s not nice. “I do?” you ask, all teasing gone from your tone. You often wish you were much prettier, and occasionally beg fate to drop a bottle of medical grade body wash into your lap, if just to make Steve see you that way. But Steve’s kissed you with a greasy nose and blood on your chin. You were hoping appearances didn’t matter. 

“You look awful,” he says, his eyebrows stitching together as he heads into the kitchen. “Stay sat down!” 

“Awful?” you ask. 

He doubles back, face peeking around the doorway. “Not like that,” he says hurriedly. “Just, sick. I’m gonna cook you something.” 

“I don’t need to be sat down, I’m fine.” 

He disappears again. “That why you’re glaring at me?” he calls, his voice echoing against tile. 

You don’t have the energy for whatever it is that’s happening. You kick your legs out on the couch and begin kneading the swollen mess that is your stomach, debating on telling him why you’re grumpy. It’s not like he cares. He never finds it gross, but you don’t want him to pity you either. It’s just a period. 

(It really sucks.) 

“Alright, the hot plate is on,” he calls. “What do you want, huh? We got the split pea soup, or the chicken casserole?” He laughs. “The casserole, duh. Ten minutes and it’s yours.” 

Your breath rushes out through your nose. Stomach hurts, head hurts, he’s making you dinner and laughing where you can’t see him. You force yourself to get up, shuffling to the kitchen with a pout already in place. 

“Ten minutes is not right,” you say, announcing your movement so he doesn’t stab you. 

“Is too right. How come you never listen?” 

“Steve, please don’t be mean to me, I’m on my period.” You wince as a pang climbs your back. 

“Oh, you are?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Well… I’m glad, sort of. Better that then the flu, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

A couple of weeks ago, he would’ve told you to go back to the couch, and he would’ve brought your food in to you, wrapping a blanket over your legs and leaving you to it. But this is now. Your unwilling protector has gone remarkably soft on you. 

“Is it like last time?” he asks, holding out his arm. 

You drift toward him, pretending it isn’t to be hugged. “It hurts, if that’s what you mean.” 

“It hurts,” he repeats in a murmur as his arm finally curls around your waist. He pulls you into his side.

“You’re pitying me.” 

“You like it,” he jokes, his tone still held in that soft murmuring. 

You close your eyes, driving your nose into his chest. The hot plate gurgles weakly on the stove, using the last of a canister of camping gas, a few days from the end of its life. Your eyelids feel heavy closed, achy not with tears but fatigue, and your head aches with a migraine you know from experience won’t be defeated using tylenol. But Steve hugs you with one arm and leans against you as you press into him. Stuck together. He doesn’t move for ages. 

“I’m glad I don’t get my period,” he says. 

“You act like you do.” 

“Were you not gonna tell me? I guess you don’t have to, but if you’re in pain, I’d like to know.” 

“Don’t need you to feel any more sorry for me.” 

“I don’t. Just like rubbing your back.” 

Your heart skips a beat. That’s as close to a confession of feelings you’ve ever gotten from him. Well, verbally. His sporadic kissing says a lot. 

“Thanks for telling me,” he says. You have to strain your ears to hear him. “I don’t think there’s much iron in chicken casserole. I wish we… How much iron is there in squirrel?” 

“I don’t wanna eat squirrel.” Again. 

“It’s good for you.” 

Doubtful. You turn completely into his touch and hug him. “Please don’t make me eat squirrel.” 

You sound a teeny tiny bit pitiful, and you earn yourself an even better hug than the first. “I won’t, I won’t, I was just kidding,” he promises, “I just figure you need it. Maybe if we look through the medicine cabinet they’ll have some multivitamins or something.” His hand grabs at your side. It’s not a careful touch, though he’s far from spiteful. “You need painkillers, right? I could crush a Vicodin into your casserole.” 

“Yes, please.” 

Steve’s nose presses into the side of your face. You feel close to him in a way that chokes you up, but you don’t need to talk any more. 

“Half a Vicodin,” he deliberates, “and I’ll rub your back.”

[citricacidprince]

I wanted to ask if you can make a doodle of that drifting star gravity falls au but it’s relativity falls. Stan gets sucked into the portal and Dipper has to take care of him.

Took a hot second but I finally did it!!!

This family makes me wanna lose my mind I adore them so so much <333

(Sorry it’s a bit messy and clunky, my brain is fried atm lol)

Notes under cut!

I like to think that Dipper is oh so tired and is trying so hard to find a way to kill Bill so he can get back home to his sister as fast as he possibly can that he’s sooooo willing to aim guns at people. Like sure a laser gun works fine most of the time, but it’s soooo much easier to bring lead to a knife fight, ya know?

Stanley would think Dipper is so fucking cool and Dipper has to do a double take because no one has ever called him cool and meant it

Stanley is wearing a mini version of his homeless hoodie, as a treat :]

Mabel was inconsolably crying for a hot second after this all happened and Stanford was utterly pissed and in denial, weakly kicking her and hitting her with his little baby arms to bring his brother back

Mabel manages to reverse engineer the portal gun to erase the government agents minds, but unlike Dipper, who could’ve done it in 5 minutes tops, it takes her about an hour, so she tells Stanford about her brother Dipper and everything that happened while she does so

While doing this she asked Boyish Dan to block the door and gave him permission to beat up anyone who tried to get in, something the concussed teen was very happy to hear

They manage to buy time, and thankfully Mabel already knows how to open the portal again, but it’s gonna take a week or two maximum to get it fully running again

Stanford is still very very pissed, but it’s a silent and resigned anger aimed at Mabel. She lied to them all summer, she not who she said she was, she won’t stop apologizing when she looks at him now, how could he not be mad?

Besides it’s easier to be mad when the alternative is being so sad you feel nauseous over the fact your brother is missing, you have no clue if he’s okay or even alive, and every passing moment is making you regret trying to push him away all summer because you miss his stupid jokes and laughter and antics so bad it makes you steal all the blankets off his bed and praying to something, anything, that he’s going to be okay so you can just hug him one more time.

Mabel isn’t doing very well either. She completely locked down the Shack until she can bring Stanley and Dipper home. She told Dan and Anjelita that they didn’t have to come to work, something Anjelita gladly accepted, while Dan insisted that he could help. After all you expect him to go home and be normal about this later??? He got a concussion and punched an FBI agent so hard he passed out. He’s in this for the long haul.

I don’t want Stanley and Dipper stuck in that portal for longer than a week, because even if Mabel and Ford opening that portal again would cause Weirdmageddon they don’t care in the slightest, they just want their brothers to come home

[honeydewandcake]

TW — Asylum/Hospital setting, mental disorders, medical malpractice

Inspired by Fran Bow, Sparklecare, Pure Trance, and other such things; I had an idea for a Dandy’s World AU that centers around a hospital setting

I feel like a lot of people don’t like asylum or hospital AUs because they are full of exaggerated or misinformed ideas of what mental illness is. I tried not to do that, though I’m not a professional so I still might be wrong about some things. I don’t want to take this idea too far in fear that it might be distasteful, but I do want to share this idea to see if others like it too.

Dandy’s Care is a separate world where, instead of a museum, Dandy and his friends were meant to be for a children’s hospital to treat the sick and ill. They were meant to be comfort characters to patients and were meant to support them during their stay. Like in Dandy’s World, the hospital shut down due to unspecified sanitation issues. Dandy, also known as Dr. Dandicus Dancifer, slowly became more and more starved for activity. He started targeting his friends, making the hospital into an asylum for them. He changed their characters, changing his friends into patients. The toons have no memory of their former self, only knowing their diseased and ill present self.

The staff is made up of the main toons. All of them are nurses and Dandy is the main doctor. They all act like their former selves, though they have no memory. I didn’t want to draw all of them so just imagine Astro and Vee in these uniforms.

Read more to see other toons (not all of them drawn or thought of yet, don’t attack me ;-;) ↓

Razzle and Dazzle, the only ones that I thought of completely because I already drew them before. They’re the reason why I made this entire thing anyway.

They are just experiments by Dandy, who wanted to see if the two could live together if they were attached. They used to love each other, now they don’t. Razzle is no longer looking for comedy, Dazzle is no longer looking for hope. Both are only set on the idea of revenge against Dandy for making them this way.

Life is hard when you can only feel the sensations on one half on your body, they can barely walk and can only stand or sit. They take many painkillers as their wounds take a long time to health properly. They wish they could escape this place and just die already, but they’re stuck and forced to live for as long as Dandy wants.

Razzle is a lot more violent now. He is prone to biting and scratching the staff. He hates doing all the lab tests and medical procedures, he hates being near Dazzle, he hates being stuck in this living hell. Razzle is the reason why they’re not allowed near sharp or blunt objects.

Dazzle became paranoid, scared of any noise that happens. He’s terrified of Razzle because of how violent he can get, he hates him too. Dazzle cries a lot, he cries until he can’t everyday. Dazzle wishes he could just die already, he thinks everything is scary and out to get him.

Shrimpo is thought to be a patient that had anger issues and aggressive tendencies. According to Dandy, he was admitted for being violent in public, although this is only part of the fake story that Dandy gave him. Shrimpo was forced to get a lobotomy, unethical but who cares. Dandy sure didn’t.

He’s still in the recovery phase, so he might be a bit loopy. Once those bandages are off, he’ll be as right as rain. Shrimpo is a wanderer around the hospital as he’s no longer a threat. He’s allowed to leave his room and go out in the play yard but only if a nurse is with him.

Shrimpo doesn’t really have much going for him. His thoughts are scrambled and he only cares for things in front of him. Although the lobotomy made him more passive, it doesn’t mean he’s any better in terms of motivation. Shrimpo certainly has no drive for anything anymore, he doesn’t mind but it gets in the way of his health as well. The staff needs to remind him to go to the dining room to eat or to go take a shower, because otherwise he’ll forget.

Boxten was made to believe that he has had problems with insomnia ever since he was little, of course it’s not true. He takes sleeping pills and melatonin, but it only seems to worsen his nightmares. This makes him skip his doses to avoid sleeping, repeating the cycle over and over.

Boxten is afraid of imaginary things that might get him. He thinks they’ve already in his head, eating away at his brain and giving him nightmares. Of course the only thing the nurses can see is his music box. Boxten has lost all trust in the staff since they couldn’t see or feel the things he can.

In my original notes, it said that Boxten might have psychosis.

Well that’s all the once I’ve drawn, I don’t really have the motivation to make every single toon. I have a couple of ideas though

— Goob somehow survived a terrible accident, but both his arms needed to be amputated making him armless. He suffers from brain damage and internal bleeding. He doesn’t seem to have any change in his personality, still as joyful as ever. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism

— Tisha has severe OCD which damages her mental health. She’s constantly worried about everything that happens around her, making her super aware of her surroundings. She could be a danger to herself and others as she sometimes has very aggressive thoughts but can’t control her actions. She unintentionally hurts herself because of her OCD, such as washing her hands so many times that they start to bleed.

Not for a toon, but I did have an idea for an added addition to the hospital. Maybe there’s a twisted reform center where the staff try and heal twisteds back to their normal self. They would clean the ichor from them but since the ichor is also inside of them their personalities don’t change as much. Twisteds such as Finn and R&D might be too far gone though, they would have to be disabled for life. I might draw this idea because I think it’s kind of cool, I definitely will if people also think this is interesting.

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: a really long chapter part thing i fear . kisses .. maybe .. IM NOT SPOILING THIS

prev next

authors note: erm guys .. if im rushing this then do NOT pay attention !! I WANT THEM TO BE OKAY AGAIN JUST LIKE U GUYS I FEAR. I CANT HELP MYSELF. but do NOT think this is the end because this is NOT!! we still have to get through the rest of the second week + the wedding. and if u think about it, DAMN a lot happened in week 1 omg goodnight

anyway, if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3333

you keep your distance from him the next two days. you know you have to face him, and sometimes you do, but you’re stiffer than before. he knows better than anyone to maintain that gap until you’re okay again.

it just feels like your breakup with him all over again, but this time, for a different reason other than having too much time apart. this time, you’re all he spends time with but there just happens to be something getting in the way of that. another girl. it isn’t fair.

drew’s been trying to show in little ways that he’s sorry, but it doesn’t cut it for you. not yet. and you don’t want to lead him by a string and take advantage of him caring about you. but him bringing you breakfast, then trying to avoid you throughout the day until you’re back in libby’s bed again—it’s just frustrating.

you don’t even want to be there anymore. you don’t want to have to deal with this. but it’s for leila and theo, their day is coming up soon. you just want them to have a good time and then you can all separate ways and live your own lives again. how it’s always been and how it should be.

the guys are getting ready to visit town while the girls stay back. this isn’t for you though, and you’re grateful. gia proposed a self-care day after a package was shipped to the home, a large box of cookies, and safe to say you all agreed to the plan.

“i’ve been trying to get back into reading but i feel like i have no time sometimes,” leila’s telling you and the girls as you set up shop at the kitchen island.

there’s an array of face masks, moisturizers, rollers, oils, creams, other things they’ve wanted to try. gia even brings her diffuser and places it nearby as the tv in the living room plays.

“i recommend ���doomsday’!” libby perks up from across the table. “i read it last summer and let me tell you, i bawled crying for a month straight.”

“y/n, you read,” leila says as she files her nails, crossing a leg over another. “what are your recommendations?”

“hey,” theo greets leila as he and the boys join you four at the table, each with their respective girlfriend besides libby and oscar, and technically you and drew. he hovers behind you but just merely nods his head to say hello. “we’re gonna head out.”

“oh, okay,” leila says with a small frown, but kisses him goodbye. “drive safe, alright?” you’re winking at roman who points at you to say to behave, but he kisses gia’s cheek before he’s following theo out.

you answer leila from earlier with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting to find ‘the last love letter’ but i haven’t really been reading lately. been too busy.”

gia mouth gapes open as she slams her hand on the table, nearly knocking something over. “shut up, i’ve been wanting to read that too!” she shrieks as libby tells her to be more careful.

you can only giggle at her while she gets off her seat and comes up behind you to pull your hair and tie it back.

“that book is literally nowhere, i swear the author only made like five copies of it.”

“have you guys read ‘self sabotage’?” leila asks as she and libby, already prepared, begin to place their face masks on.

you’re on the couch with the girls as libby records you on her phone. the box of cookies are opened and after careful review, you’ve all decided what to try first and what comes after that, and so on.

“now?” you ask libby if she’s ready, and she nods. you, leila, and gia take a cautious bite out of the pieces you’ve broken off of the first cookie. it only takes you a few chews in to realize how heavenly it is. gia even pretends to faint beside you.

“holy shit,” leila says as she covers her mouth, taking a look at the cookie with wide eyes. “are you serious?”

libby lunges at you with her phone to take it from her, “well now i wanna try it!”

you’re in a fit of laughter as you try to turn the camera around before she can sink her teeth in, but she’s too fast. your eyes widen at the girl, “libby, slow down!”

and eventually, you’re full of cookies and half of them are still yet to be tried. you agree with the girls to continue this matter tomorrow if the boys don’t eat it all themselves, and you know they will. you’re just glad you’ve already tried all the ones you really wanted to before then.

when the guys get home, it’s exactly what you anticipated. they bee line directly to the cookies on the coffee table, but not without greeting you all first.

theo groans as he takes a bite, roman right beside him to stuff a whole chunk in his mouth. “this is better than sex,” he murmurs while roman snaps his fingers several times. leila can’t help but nod in agreement.

“i feel cookie-drunk,” you say with your hand on your stomach, and gia curls up into your side as she holds onto hers. “what’d you guys get?”

roman is quick to reach into his bag and pull out a couple of keychains, as if he just got reminded about something. he tosses one at gia’s head, and you look over to see what it is.

“the world’s okayest girlfriend,” she reads aloud, and she chucks it back at him, no longer accepting the gift that roman laughs about. she gets up to see what else is in his bag, leaving drew to plop down next to you and libby, who’s on the other side of you this whole time.

she’s cleaning the ice cream off her spoon when she speaks up for you and her, “what’d you get?”

“few things,” he says as he lets you look inside for yourself.

you pull out a long box and open it. it’s a chain bracelet, sterling silver. it’s nice, and you nod with raised brows. there’s other things inside that you only glance at, but when you look up at him you notice the new pair of sunglasses that’s resting on his head.

you pull it off of him silently and place it on yourself, unspokenly thanking him for the temporary gift you’ll give back later but you like them so now they’re yours for a few hours.

drew purses his lips and closes his bag, assuming you’re done, so he gets up and starts heading upstairs. you look over at libby. without hesitation, she asks, “you okay?”

you hesitate, and you know she’s only asking this because this is one of drew’s brief interactions with you since a few days ago. but you shrug it off, “yeah, i’m okay,” you say.

libby doesn’t miss a beat, she’s not convinced at all. she knows you well enough to understand what ‘im okay’ really means is ‘i’ll be okay’. that it’s not okay, but it will be eventually.

she’s seen this look on you before, during the hardest parts of your relationship with drew. she can feel the unspoken words between them, the ones you don’t even need to say out loud.

“right,” libby says with a soft sigh. she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. “you’ll be alright,” she whispers. you know she won’t pry further, but knowing that whatever drew did, it was enough to hurt you again.

after a few moments, she pulls back and, with a small smile, asks, “wanna help me with dinner soon? leila thought it’d be nice to eat out in the backyard tonight, by the pool.”

you hum softly, nodding your head, “yeah, that sounds good.”

libby grins, “awesome. ‘cause it’s pizza night and i cannot do it alone.”

the next few hours blur together. you’ve successfully prepared the pizzas with libby and slid them into the oven. now you’re cutting into them and displaying them outside on the table.

it used to be bare, but someone since morning has gone out there to help decorate the backyard to make it just a little flashier. there’s a cloth on the table, which is scattered with candles, flowers, dishes, platters of cookies, fruits, a charcuterie board, and there’s a helpful variety of drinks.

fairy lights blink across the backyard, even over the pool, and it illuminates the whole place. you place the different pizzas in between each candle piece, which libby lights as you do. when you call everyone outside, you join together at the table.

and once theo leads you once again with the ‘i’m grateful for my future wife’ shit, you get to dig in. you’re pretty sure it was longer this time around and even roman started to just eat until he was kicked under the table by drew.

“fucking finally,” libby murmurs under her breath after theo concludes his speech, to which causes him to pick up an olive off the plate and toss it at her. “yeah, you’re so lucky i like olives,” she whispers to herself as she rearranges her napkin, “fucking loser.”

“libby,” you scold, though you can’t hide your laugh. she’s grinning when she looks up, silently laughing with you.

when you turn to drew on the other side of you, he’s taking large bites from his slice. he tilts his head back with a groan, then takes a longer look at the pizza as he chews.

“s’it good?” you ask, and he nods rapidly, and soon his body moves with it. you bring yourself to smile, grateful that people you care about like what you’ve cooked.

you reach over to take your own slice from each pizza and just stack it on your plate, planning on going through them one by one from the one on too being the one you least want to eat, and the last at the bottom being the one you’re most excited for—a ‘save the best for last’ type of thing. it’s silly but you do it anyway.

drew’s finishing up his bite when he leans into you gently. “i have to talk to you later, by the way,” he says, and it sort of startles you because at this point you’re just talking to libby.

you look at him with furrowed brows, but again, you’re not mad. you’re not upset with him. at least not in this moment, you can’t be.

and it looks like he’s grateful because he can see it too. “if that’s alright with you,” he says, then takes another bite. you just nod at him in silence, and watch as he turns back to oscar who’s on his other side before talking to him.

you look straight ahead where roman’s sitting, and he sends you a look. he heard drew talking to you, he knows it must be about something important, but it’s not what’s on your mind right now.

you shrug it off. “—tell you later,” you mouth to him, then turn to libby when you realize she’s talking to you again.

after dinner, gia and leila clean dishes while literally all of the guys clean up outside as a thank you to you and libby, who lay across the living room with bellies filled with food.

there’s a movie playing on tv that you can barely pay attention to, but you’ve been laying there for about an hour so if you really want to, you could. you just play into the laziness that you’re allowed.

you hold your phone above you as libby rolls around the carpet, or at least that’s what you last saw her doing before you looked away. you’re scrolling through texts with your manager as if a new message will come in.

“did elyse get back to you?” libby asks, a face-full of carpet and it sounds like she’s just a few feet away. “about the thing.”

“no,” you mumble, then turn your phone off and set it face-down on the carpet, just like libby. the side of your head is laying on your arm as you look at her. “i could go for another cookie.”

“you ate three!” libby’s muffled voice raises.

“and i’ll make it four,” you tell her, raising your volume back. you consider getting up but don’t feel like it. you can actually lay here forever—maybe.

“y/n,” you hear his voice. it’s drew.

and you get up immediately. he was so softspoken, so cautious with you. he’s entering the house with the other boys who must’ve finished outside, meaning it’s time to have his talk. you almost ask if you guys can just have it there if it’s not that important, but if that’s possible then he wouldn’t be trying to get you alone.

you look over to libby, who—at the sound of drew’s voice—peeked her eyes out to see what he wanted. she looks to you, and she understands why you have to go. she convinces herself to get up and find the remote so she can turn the volume up.

you know it’s for you and drew, and a part of you wants to nudge her or be offended, and you do. is this going to be normal behavior in the house? turning up the volume just for you and drew when you guys need to have these ‘talks’ that are just screaming practice in disguise?

you’re almost embarrassed but you know that you’d rather have this than let them hear you two upstairs.

you follow him to your room, or technically his room as of three nights ago, and he lets you inside first. there’s a chilling feeling when you realize what’s about to happen and you feel like he’s literally about to murder you.

the room is clean, for the most part. you didn’t doubt for a second that he wouldn’t take care of this room regardless if you’re in it or not. his bed isn’t made and his backpack’s on the edge of it, opened and rifled through.

you look to him when you’ve entered, and he nods toward the bed, as if to say he would rather you sit there while you listen to what he has to say, so slowly, you make your way over and settle down on the edge.

drew pulls out a chair from the desk across the bed and turns it around, pushing it closer to you. you’re surprised that he’s doing a whole setup just to talk to you. maybe he really is going to kill you.

“i haven’t been honest at all . . . since we started talking again,” he begins as he sits down in front of you. you stay there and close your mouth. you want to hear what he has to say, even if it ends terribly. you need to hear what he’s been thinking. “so i’d like to tell you everything about this past year if you’re okay with that.”

you shrug and gesture to let him have the floor. “please,” you insist with a nod.

he sighs as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “there’s . . . mila," he starts, and even though you knew this conversation was coming, it still stings when you hear her name.

“i guess you could call it a situationship or whatever,” he says before he catches himself, realizing how that sounds. “i mean, to me, it felt like that. but i think—” he pauses, chewing on his words. “no, she definitely saw it as more. she always viewed it as a relationship.” he glances at you, watching for your reaction, but you just sit there, waiting.

he rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with himself. “we just weren’t on the same page. i was . . . i was using it to distract myself, if i’m being honest. and i know that’s not fair. i knew it even then. but it felt easier than than facing what i was actually feeling at the time.”

he continues, “i told myself it was nothing, but i knew, deep down, it wasn’t fair to her. she didn’t deserve to be strung along like that.”

you feel your chest tighten, but not from jealousy. it’s you knowing that someone else had been hurt in this too, someone who had clearly thought there was more between them. “does she know? about this?” you ask him.

he flinches slightly, as if the concern you’re showing for mila makes this even harder to explain for him. he hesitates, “i officially ended things with her three nights ago. the night you confronted me about her. i told her it was over, that i couldn’t keep pretending things were fine when they weren’t. she didn’t take it well. and honestly, i don’t blame her.”

you’re quiet for a moment—so he’s decided to keep you and him a secret from mila? to spare both his and her feelings? you aren’t sure if you should bring light to it or just push it aside. you did say before that it was ultimately his decision.

“i’m glad you told her,” you say carefully, but there's a pause before you add, "but i can’t imagine how confusing this must be for her.” you shift in your seat, rubbing your palms on your knees. “i mean, from her perspective, this whole thing must feel like it came out of nowhere.”

he swallows hard, nodding. “yeah, it wasn’t fair to her. not at all.”

there’s a beat. he looks at you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. “i told her about you,” he says. he’s quiet, as if he’s afraid of the confession. “i told her that i’m . . . that i’m still not over you. that i don’t think i ever really was.”

what?

you blink, startled by his words, though in a way, you’re not entirely surprised. you’ve felt the tension between you two from the moment you started talking again, but hearing him admit it, finally saying it out loud . . .

his voice is rough, like he’s forcing himself to continue. “but that’s why things with mila were never real. not for me, at least. i kept telling myself i could move on, that i could just forget, but every day i’d realize i wasn’t. i couldn’t let go of you.”

“but you broke up with me, drew,” you remind him. “that doesn’t necessarily sound like you’re in love with me.”

“i didn’t break up with you because i didn’t love you,” he says, his brows furrowed. “i do, more than i’ve ever loved anyone else.” his eyes meet yours briefly before dropping to his hands, which he’s fiddling with in his lap. “like, it was the opposite. i felt like i wasn’t enough for you. like i was failing you.”

you feel your breath hitch in your throat, but you don’t interrupt. you sit up on the bed.

he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he speaks. “our jobs, the schedules, the distance . . . it was tearing us apart, you know? and every day, i’d think about how i wasn’t giving you what you deserved. we were supposed to click, supposed to last, but i felt like i was just holding you back.” his voice is quiet, and he rubs his forehead slowly. “and i couldn’t stand the thought of you waiting for me when i could never give you the time you needed. it was eating me alive.”

you stay quiet, but tears prick at the corners of your eyes. his words hit hard, and you feel like everything that was left unsaid was finally coming to light now—there were arguments that could’ve been avoided, the misunderstandings that built up. he was overthinking, spiraling, and instead of talking to you, he made the decision for both of you.

“and i just kept thinking, like . . . ‘she deserves someone who can be there for her, really be there. someone who can come home to her every night’. i wasn’t that guy. i’d go days without seeing you, weeks even, and it broke me.” he swallows hard again, shaking his head. “i convinced myself that you’d be happier with someone else. someone who wasn’t always on some stupid set, always busy.”

your heart aches as you watch him, his guilt written all over his face. you lean forward and whisper, “but you don’t get to decide that for me, drew. we make decisions together. or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“i know,” he mutters, his tone regretful. “i know that now. but back then, i thought i was doing the right thing. i thought i was . . . protecting you, i guess. from me.”

you shake your head, wiping at the tears that are now falling freely. “protecting me from you? drew, i never, ever wanted anyone else. i wanted you. i didn’t care about the schedules, or the distance. i would’ve waited, and we could’ve figured it out. together.”

his eyes finally meet yours again, and for the first time, you can see the depth of his regret. “when we broke up, i tried. god, i tried to move on. i tried to find something, you know? but i was always looking for you.” he takes a shaky breath. “every girl i met, i’d compare them to you. i’d look for pieces of you in them, trying to find something familiar, something that felt right. but it never worked.”

you knew he had tried to move on, but hearing that he was always searching for you in others, that no one ever compared. it leaves you speechless for a moment. if that’s what happened, then why invest so much time into mila?

you finally gather the courage to ask, “mila. did she . . . was she like me?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but you need to know.

“no,” he admits, shaking his head. “not really. mila was cool, and she’s . . . she’s great in her own way. but no. she wasn’t like you.” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. "but i remember i wanted her to be."

he didn’t try to replace you with mila, but it was clear that he had been searching for something, anything, to fill the void you left behind. and it never worked.

“no one’s ever going to compare to you, y/n,” he continues, “i realize that now. it took me a while, but i’ll always search for you in everyone, and it’s never going to be the same. it’ll never feel the way it felt with you."

for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally getting the truth. the real, unfiltered truth about why things ended the way they did. he wasn’t running because he didn’t care. he was running because he thought he wasn’t enough for you. and now, he’s sitting here, telling you everything he couldn’t say before.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, on the verge of crying. “i’m sorry for walking away. for not talking to you about it when i should’ve. i was scared. scared that i wasn’t enough for you, and scared that i never would be.”

you can feel the tears still lingering in your eyes, but there’s also a strange sense of closure. you’ve needed to hear this for so long, to understand why things fell apart the way they did. and now, you finally do.

“i messed up,” he says, “i messed up everything, and i know it. but i never stopped loving you and i’m . . . i’m still in love with you.”

you stay silent, blinking away the burn in your eyes, trying to absorb what he’s saying. part of you feels relief, but another part of you is cautious. you’ve been hurt before like this. by another and by him.

he watches you closely, and it feels like the longer the silence is, the more anxious he gets. “i know this doesn’t fix anything, and i’m not asking you to forgive me or take me back. i just needed to tell you the truth. i needed you to know that mila . . . ? mila was never you. no one is.”

the room feels too small suddenly, too full of emotions that you don’t know what to do with. you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, but all you can manage to say is, “why now, drew? why are you telling me this now?”

his gaze softens, “because i didn’t want to lose you again. not without you knowing the truth.”

you can only look down at your lap. your vision blurs as you try to focus on your fingers, interlocked and tense in your lap, the pressure in your chest is tightening by the second.

you don’t trust yourself to speak just yet, so you hold everything in, to find the right words, but nothing comes out.

when you finally lift your head to look at him, the tears are already pooling in your eyes. you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from spilling over, but it’s useless. without saying anything, he stands up and pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame.

you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as your face presses into his chest, and it’s like the dam inside you finally breaks. the tears fall freely now, your body shaking as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arms around you—something you’ve missed so desperately.

and it’s not just about the last few days. it’s about the past year of missing him, of pretending you were okay when you weren’t. and you can tell drew needed this too. you can feel it in the way his grip tightens, like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to hold together everything that’s broken between you both.

you stay like that for a long time, the sound of your quiet sobs muffled by his chest, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back as if to soothe the ache inside you. it’s a comfort you haven’t felt in so long, and it is exactly what you’ve needed.

toward the end of it, your face still pressed against his chest, you mumble something, your words half muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he loosens his hold just a little, enough for you to pull back slightly, just enough to breathe. “i . . .” you take a shaky breath, your hands still gripping his arms, and when you finally meet his eyes again, you whisper, “i never stopped loving you either.”

the words hang between you, raw and honest, and as soon as you say them, you see the way his expression softens, like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting to hear.

his lips crash into yours, urgent and insistent. his fingers tighten against the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. his lips coax yours open, deepening the kiss, and he swallows the whimper that escapes you.

his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on the bed. he kisses you like he's been starved of you, his tongue swirling against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your face, your neck, your hair. this is what he’s been waiting to do.

his hands trail down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “stay with me tonight?”

you can’t get enough of him, and although you know that everything can’t be completely fixed over just one conversation, sleeping and waking up in the same bed as him isn’t hurting anyone.

you nod, a soft smile on your face that causes him to grin. but he pulls away slowly hesitating for a moment, his smile growing a little wider as he reaches past you into his backpack, his fingers rummaging around as if he’s searching for something precious.

you watch him, curiosity bubbling inside you. what could he possibly have?

“hold on,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and filled with warmth, and you smile as you press another kiss to his.

finally, he pulls out a book, holding it out toward you with a look of pure joy on his face. you take a look at it but almost don’t even catch it the first time until a second later. your heart skips a beat as you recognize it—the last love letter.

“shut up,” you say, taking it into your own hands to see if it’s real. and of course it is.

he nods, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “i heard you talking about it with the girls before we left earlier,” he explains, but he knows you can tell already that much. there’s a goofy look on his face as he wipes underneath one of his eyes. “i knew how much you wanted it and i saw a copy in town, so . . .”

“no, shut up. i can’t take this,” you exclaim, feeling tears welling in your eyes. “star.” the words spill out, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. it’s not just the gift; it’s the thought behind it that strikes a chord deep within you. you trace the cover with your fingertips as if it’s a treasured artifact.

he watches you intently. “i wanted to,” he assures you. “i heard it, i thought it would mean something to you.”

your gaze shifts from the book to him. “thank you, it does,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you blink out a few more tears.

you set the book aside momentarily, throwing your arms around him once again. the embrace feels like a lifeline. you hold him tightly, your heart racing as you bury your face against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent.

he wraps his arms around you, holding you just as tightly, as if he’s afraid to let go. the world outside fades away, and in this moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, a bubble of intimacy where everything feels right again.

after a long pause, as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, you can see the softness in his eyes. “you really didn’t have to do this,” you say again, looking down at the brand new book. “but it means the world to me that you did.”

he grins, “i know it’s just a book, but i wanted to show you that i’m here—like, really here this time.” and you are so glad he is.

“i missed this,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he closes his eyes for a moment, and you continue to explore the pages of the book, though your thoughts keep drifting back to him. aw you run your fingers through his hair, it dawns on you how much you've missed this—this connection, this easy banter, the comfort of being together.

“i missed us,” you finally admit, looking into his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right again. it all floods back to you.

he shifts slightly, leaning in closer, and his arms slide to wrap around your waist as he lays his head on your shoulder to take a look at your book with you, his voice in relief as he mumbles, “me too.”

and you’re happy, it all just feels like your dream again.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull @lovelylupin04 @ecstqzy @dasguccier

[runnning-outof-time]

Tommy & His Girls | Tommy Shelby x Reader

read more of the Girl Dad Mini Series — HERE.

request: yes by anonymous

pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

summary: When things get rough, Tommy can most certainly count on the girls in his life to lighten things up.

warnings: drinking, smoking, Tommy being a horsegirl

word count: 2089

a/n: back at it with another girl dad!Tommy fic - I just love using this little family I’ve created (if you couldn’t tell) I hope you like this installment of their story!! p.s…I’m sorry if the ending’s corny…I didn’t know how to, well, end it. Enjoy!! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Tommy barely said a word as he entered Arrow House. He handed his things to Frances and made a b-line to his study. Things with the business were rough today...they'd been rough for as far back as Tommy could remember. It seemed like he was the only one in the family pulling the weight and that left him feeling like there was war happening inside his head as he made the drive home.

He pushed his study's door closed behind him as he walked into the room, not even caring if the door had enough velocity to latch or not. He trudged his way to his desk after pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey. Half of it was downed in the first drink; he really wanted the pain in his head to cease.

Setting the glass down, he went through the motions of lighting himself a cigarette. The first, deep drag he took finally made some of the noise quiet down.

It's unclear how long he sat like that: slumped back on his chair with a cigarette burning between his fingers. The next time he came to, however, was when the office door opened slightly.

"Dad?" a small voice came from the opposite side of the room, making Tommy sit up straighter in his seat.

"Yeah," he answered, his voice not quite audible. He cleared his throat before responding louder, "yes?" He focused in on the doorway, seeing his oldest daughter, Thea, standing in it.

The young girl said nothing else as she fully entered the room and made her way right over to his desk. “You didn’t come to my room to say hello,” she stated, a slight frown present on her face.

She stopped in front of his chair as she finished speaking, her arms open to show him that she wanted a hug. The second he opened his, she fell into them.

Tommy let out a sigh as he felt the weight of his eldest daughter against him. “Hello, Thea,” he breathed, a sigh escaping with his words. He couldn’t deny the fact that he felt terrible in that moment. He always made sure to greet Thea when he returned home from work, no matter what type of day he had.

How could he have gotten so frustrated that he forgot one of the most important parts of his day?

Thea was the one to break away from the hug — Tommy could have sat there like that all evening if she allowed it — and step back to look at her father.

He watched her, waiting to see what she’d do next. To his surprise, she made her way over to one of the seats that faced his desk and sat down.

The two stared at each other for a few moments longer. Thea looked as if she was studying her father; like she was taking notes on the entire situation. Tommy was quite confused as to why the ten year old wanted to stick around after greeting him.

Finally, after several moments of silence, he had to ask her just that, “why have you decided to stay, love?”

“I was able to tell that you’re stressed out over work, dad. I don’t want to leave you alone,” she answered him, sounding simultaneously like a ten year old and like a person who was beyond their years.

Tommy took a moment to let her words sink in. Then he couldn’t help but smile as a soft chuckle escaped his lips. The innocence that his daughters held despite the line of work their father was present in was always something that grounded him, no matter what was going on. He knew that he could count on it to bring him back down from that position of power to just being their dad.

“You can keep working,” Thea’s voice broke through his thoughts, making him realize that he had been sitting there, staring at her for some time.

Tommy glanced down at the papers that were scattered across his desk. They were covered with statements that he truly didn’t want to read anymore. Then he looked to one of the photographs that sat proudly on his desk. It was of Thea, Evie, and Juni. They were all hugging onto each other and smiling their biggest smiles. His eyes finally moved to Thea, who was still sitting with a smile on her face.

“I can’t work any longer,” he said to her then as he stood from his chair, “let’s go and see what your sisters are doing,” he suggested, his statement making Thea rise from her seat as well.

Tommy and Thea found Evie and Juni playing in the front room.

“Dad’s home!” Thea exclaimed, making the two younger girls quickly turn around.

“Dad!” they both cheered in unison, smiles lighting up their faces.

Tommy smiled as they rushed over to hug him. He could slowly feel the stress leaving his body. “Hello, girls,” he greeted them, rubbing both of their backs as they held onto him tightly.

“Come play, dad!” Juni exclaimed as she pulled away from him to go back to the toys they had strewn about on the floor.

“Have you ladies finished your homework?” he asked the older two before making his decision.

“Course I have,” Evie answered in a matter-of-fact tone, “it was too easy.”

“Mine’s finished as well,” Thea answered with a smile.

“Good,” Tommy nodded, smiling at his girls.

“Let’s play!” Juni shrieked from where she was standing by the toys. By this time she already had one leg in one of the ‘princess dresses’ that the girls had specially made for them. Tommy smiled as he saw the one she’d chosen - it was one that Thea had been given when she was little.

“What game?” Tommy asked, watching as his other girls followed suit and grabbed the things they needed from their toy chest.

“Princesses, of course,” Evie answered like it was common sense….well, in this Shelby household it kind of was. Tommy chuckled at that thought.

“Thea’s the queen!” Juni shouted excitedly.

“She’s always the queen though!” Evie protested, a frown on her face as her hands dropped to her hips.

“I’m the queen because I’m the oldest,” Thea calmly explained to her disgruntled sister, “it’s just one of my jobs as the oldest sibling. You and Juni are princesses because you’re my younger sisters, and you’ll get to be queen once I’m older.”

Tommy couldn’t help but smile as he listened to her explanation. She was truly wise beyond her years, and she handled everything with such grace.

“Fine,” Evie huffed, deciding to accept the decision even though she sounded a little disappointed.

“What’s my part in this?” Tommy asked the three once their conversation had ended.

“The part you always are, dad,” Evie was the one to answer.

“Got it,” Tommy nodded, surpressing a groan as he lowered himself to the floor. I’m getting too old for this, he thought to himself, but he didn’t dare let that feeling show. He’d never turn down the opportunity to play with his girls.

(Y/N) was finally finished with discussing all of the changes that were to be made with the grounds and house keepers. A lot went into preparing Arrow House as one season rolled into the next. Despite the magnitude of the task and all of the moving parts that were involved, (Y/N) would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy overseeing these changes.

Now, however, she was more than ready to get back to her family.

She was able to hear them before she saw them. The giggles of her girls and one of Tommy’s unmistakable impressions. She laughed to herself just hearing it.

The sight she was met with in the front room brought the widest smile to her face. “What’s going on in here?” she made her presence known with a question.

“Mum!” came as a chorus of yells from the three girls as they forgot what they were doing to run and greet her.

“Hello, my darlings,” she greeted them, eagerly accepting their hugs. “What’re you playing in here with dad?”

“Princesses!” Juniper chirped, holding up her wand excitedly.

“Ahh,” (Y/N) nodded in understanding, “and what part is dad playing?”

“He’s the prized horse,” Evie happily answered.

(Y/N) finally looked to her husband. The sight she was met with had her stifling her laughter. Tommy was still down on all fours, and was wearing a rather strained expression as he looked at her through the longer strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“Of course he is,” she finally responded, grinning at him before focusing her attention on the girls. “How about we give him a break now, hmm? Frances has informed me that dinner is ready,” she then suggested.

No pushback was received from any of the girls, who promptly began making their way to the dining room.

(Y/N) looked over at Tommy again. He was now wearing a look of relief, and he matched his eyes with hers again just briefly before he began the process of standing up. (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle at his predicament, waiting for him to be on his feet again before she started walking to the dining room.

For once, Tommy was actually relieved to have heard that dinner was ready.

After dinner the family decided to go out onto the grounds and enjoy one of the final warm, late fall evenings before winter hit.

Juniper, of course, wanted to go to the stables and check on the horses. Tommy happily took her while the older two stayed back with (Y/N). It wasn’t a surprise, however, when he saw the three cresting the hill to join them in the stables.

Later that night, Tommy was - surprisingly - ready to be in bed at the same time as (Y/N). He helped out with tucking the girls in, wanting to spend as much time with them as he could.

(Y/N) didn’t miss the groan that left his lips as he sat down on his side of the bed. “Not as nimble of a horse as you used to be, huh?” she teasingly commented, biting on her finger to stiffle her giggles when his head snapped to look at her. “Maybe they should put you out to pasture.”

Tommy shot her a look that told her she should watch what she was saying. His look made her giggles escape.

“They’ll still treat you as their prized pony,” she conceded, moving over to where he was so that she could drape her arms over his shoulders. “You know how much they enjoy having you play with them,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.

Tommy smiled at the sentiment, nodding his head slightly as he brought his hand up to set it against the spot her wrists crossed each other.

“I don’t believe I’ve asked you…” (Y/N) started after a few moments had passed. She lifted her head from his neck before continuing, “how was your day?”

A breath of a laugh left his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment, silently recounting his day’s events and deciphering what he wanted to tell her. “I came home stressed, but the girls were able to put me into a better mood,” he decided not to go too far into details, settling with a short summary.

“They’ve stolen my job then, hmm?” her question wasn’t the sort of response that he was excepting, and it was one that had him turning his head in confusion, hoping that she’d offer more explanation. “It used to be my job to put you into a better mood,” she remarked, the smile she was wearing telling him that she wasn’t being completely serious about this.

“All of you girls put me in a better mood,” he responded in a matter-of-fact tone before adding, “don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was the truth. Without those girls, he probably would have still been in his office, droning over the same stack of papers and nursing his umpteenth whiskey.

Without those girls, he probably would have had to deal with another night of keeping his demons at bay as the shovels hit against the walls.

Without his girls, he would most certainly be a completely different man than the one he is today.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver

@stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder

@cillmequick @strayrockette @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

[machveil]

Can't believe you're gonna make me simp for this man while I'm at work-

LET ME KISS HIS SCARS BETTER REPEATEDLY DAILY ON THE BED ON THE DESK ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER WHERE NO GOD CAN SEE OR JUDGE I WILL WORSHIP THE MAN WITH WAR WOUNDS THE WAY HE OUGHT TO BE -🐸

Kiss it Better

sometimes a kiss makes things feel better— or a few dozen! headcanons for smoochin’ their scars: Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, König, Sebastian Krueger

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Simon Riley has been on the receiving end of a lot, he’s used to it - mishaps during training, wounds during deployments, not to mention the occasional bumps and bruises from daily life. what he wasn’t used to receiving was the feeling of your lips on the rough, patchy parts of his skin

”What’chya doin’, love?”, voice warm as he watches you press kisses to his scarred chest. he’d told you about some of them, grazes and nicks, close calls with blades, “Nothing, Si.”. a content hum resonates in his chest, a hand resting on the back of your head as you continue - kissing from scar to scar

he was indifferent towards the scars - a part of his job, but when you littered kisses over them? the warmth that bloomed in his chest was welcomed. lounging in bed with you, the tv idly playing in the background as he combs his fingers through your hair, the domestic moment is pure bliss for Simon

pressing his own kiss to your hairline, he cracks a smile when you chuckle, nipping at his collarbone. “Careful, you’re supposed t’be kissin’ ‘em, lovie.”, he says, tugging your hair a little.

“Could leave a couple new marks for you.”, you mumble, smiling against his skin when he gently scratches your scalp

John “Soap” MacTavish:

for every kiss you place on his scars he’s doubling them and giving them back. Johnny is a sucker for when you kiss his scars - getting them can be horrifying depending on what happened, but when you’re pecking his arms? peppering kisses over his scarred muscles? he’s thinking about banging his knee into your coffee table ‘accidentally’ so you’ll kiss it better

“Wait, go back— missed a spot, mo ghaol.”, Johnny happily says, hand cupping your chin as he smiles at you, guiding you to press a kiss to his shoulder. the scar is barely visible - probably a nick from training or bumping into something, but he’s more than happy to feel your lips against the small mark, “Ya started this, gotta kiss ‘em all.”, he insists

he’s living for the attention, thumb pressed to your cheek as he gently guides you to each scar - some completely visible, others you have to squint at. and he’s gushing, cooing sweetly at you about how nice your lips feel against his skin, how you should do this more often

and he when you’re done? he’s pressing you down against the couch, a hand holding your wrists above your head as he kisses you silly - he’s laughing, dopey smile on his lips as he sloppily pecks you. “Hold still, mo chridhe! You’re squirmin’ too much—“, he chuckles, accent thick between quick kisses

“John! John— let go! It tickles!”, you complain, his stubble rubbing against your neck as he playfully bites at you

König:

it took a while for König to reveal his marred skin to you - scars, freckles, and moles all hidden beneath his uniform and civvies. despite his confidence and cocky nature as a Colonel, behind closed doors König worries. ever since his childhood people had pointed and mocked him, and back then he wasn’t charging into the field receiving wounds

but he trusts you, and when his sniper hood is awkwardly tugged off by large, calloused hands? his icy blue gaze meets yours, his face on display - a small scar over against his eyebrow, a cut across the corner of his lips, a scattering of roughed up skin against his cheek. he doesn’t explain what happened, how he got his scars and wounds, but you don’t pry. instead, when your first instinct is to press a kiss to his long since healed cheek?

he freezes, breath hitching - König was expecting you to be appalled, to leave his apartment with knit eyebrows and disappointment in your eyes. he wasn’t expecting such gentle, careful adoration. and when you move to kiss his crooked nose, the bridge slanted slightly, he feels his chest tighten with relief, heart hammering. “Oh, liebling—“, shaky hands moving to hover above your hips, he swallows, “You don’t have to.”, he murmurs

his stomach flips when you kiss the corner of his lips, right where the nick against them is. he lets his eyes flutter shut when you tell him you want to, the he’s handsome and ever so charming - words he never thought he’d hear

“So pretty—“, you mumble, moving to peck the small scar the splits his eyebrow, “You look perfect, König.”

Sebastian Krueger:

prideful bastard, he’s showing off each and every scar - telling you exactly what happened. it doesn’t matter that his body has a reminder that he was nicked by a blade, “Ja, the man that did this won’t lay a hand me again, meine Herz.”, it’s almost like he’s bragging about them

Krueger cracks jokes about some of his more serious wounds, waving off anything he considers boring. the small scrape on his hip? ignore that he accidentally hip checked the corner of a table, look at this one! it’s the size of your thumb, you want to know where he got it? no? oh, you don’t want to listen to his stories, kleiner Vogel? you’re hurting his feelings, you should kiss his scars to make it up to him

he just wanted to share some stories with you, isn’t it mean that you’re denying him? he’s holding your face, palm to your chin and his thumb slightly digging into your cheek, “Du willst mir nicht zuhören, kleiner Vogel? Fine, how about you give me some attention then, Klingt das gut?”. he grins when you press a kiss to the scar on his chest, humming at the feeling of your lips against his skin, “Schau dich an, isn’t this nice?”

in fact, Krueger likes it so much that he’ll seek you out just to feel you kiss his old wounds - settles you in his lap, crowds you against the kitchen counter. his eyes light up whenever you initiate, chest twisting with excitement as you peck his collarbone, where a nasty little wound had been years ago

softly smiling as you press kisses to the healed, rough bit of skin, you glance up at Krueger, “Tell me about this one?”

I love these silly little guys - I hope you enjoyed these fluffy, domestic interactions with these soldiers🎀✨

[writeriguess]

Hey hey! Love your works :) Can I get a Katsuki B x fem reader fic where they like each other but he is stubborn and refuses to admit it? Reader is like "We're more than friends and you know it".

Maybe something happens where Katsuki almost loses her and he finally confesses. First kiss included please! Thanks!

You’ve always been good at reading people, but Bakugou Katsuki? He’s a whole different challenge.

It’s been months now, this tension hanging between the two of you. Ever since you joined the agency, working alongside Katsuki, the air between you has been thick, almost unbearable at times. There’s an unspoken connection, like a live wire sparking between you, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

You try your best to be patient, to let him work through whatever stubbornness is holding him back, but lately, the friction has been building.

Another patrol together. Another day with him snapping at you over every little thing. You swear, if he blames you for one more trivial mistake, you’re going to lose it. And you do.

“Watch your damn back next time! You’re supposed to be a hero, not a liability!” Katsuki growls at you, his eyes narrowed into that familiar, fiery glare. The two of you just finished up a mission — a robbery gone south — and he’s pissed that things didn’t go smoothly. But of course, it’s your fault.

You whip around to face him, blood rushing in your ears. “Are you serious right now? You act like I wasn’t the one who saved your ass back there!” Your voice rises, and you feel your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

“I didn’t need your damn help,” he snaps back, stepping closer, towering over you with that broad, muscular frame of his. The air between you crackles, a dangerous charge that neither of you can ignore. “I had it under control.”

“Like hell you did!” You take a step forward, closing the gap between you, refusing to back down. You’re not afraid of him. “You were outnumbered, and you know it. I’m not your enemy, Katsuki. Stop treating me like one.”

His jaw tightens, the tendons in his neck flexing as he clenches his fists, palms sizzling faintly with restrained explosions. “I don’t need you to baby me. I’m not weak.”

“And I’m not a damn sidekick!” you shout, frustration boiling over. “I’m your partner. We’re supposed to be in this together, but you—” You stop yourself, realizing how close you are, chest heaving, eyes locked on his. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, his presence overwhelming.

Katsuki’s crimson eyes flicker for a moment, something unreadable passing through them, but then it’s gone, replaced with that stubborn scowl you know all too well. He grits his teeth, lips curling in a sneer. “We’re not partners.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a second, you feel the sting of hurt settle deep in your chest. But then anger flares hotter than ever.

“Bullshit,” you hiss, stepping even closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. “We’re more than friends and you know it. Don’t pretend like you don’t feel it, too.”

Katsuki freezes. His eyes widen, just a fraction, but you catch it. The way his breath hitches, the way his muscles tense, as if you just struck a nerve. He doesn’t say anything, but his silence speaks volumes.

You shake your head, feeling the frustration, the hurt, the longing all swirling together into a chaotic storm inside you. “You’re so damn stubborn,” you whisper, voice trembling. “You push me away like this, like you’re scared of what’s between us.”

His eyes narrow again, but this time, they’re not filled with anger. There’s something else there — something raw, something vulnerable, something you’ve never seen from him before.

“I don’t—” he starts, but his voice falters.

“You don’t what?” you challenge, heart pounding in your chest. “You don’t care? You don’t feel anything?”

He looks away, jaw clenched so tightly you can hear his teeth grinding together. His fists are still balled, knuckles white, but he doesn’t say anything.

The silence is deafening.

“Fine,” you mutter, turning on your heel. “If you won’t admit it, then I’m done. I can’t keep doing this.”

You walk away, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Your heart aches, your mind races, and all you want is to get as far away from him as possible. But before you can take more than a few steps, there’s a loud crash — an explosion.

It happens so fast.

Debris rains down from the building above, the one you’d just helped secure. One of the walls crumbles, massive chunks of concrete and steel plummeting toward you. You barely have time to react before the ground shakes beneath you, your body instinctively moving to shield yourself, but it’s too late.

A blinding pain shoots through your leg as you’re pinned under the rubble. The impact knocks the wind out of you, and your vision blurs. Dust fills the air, and the sounds of crumbling brick and twisted metal are deafening.

“Katsuki…” you breathe, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

And then he’s there.

Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, you feel a blast of heat, the sound of explosions ripping through the air as Bakugou demolishes the debris around you with precision. His hands grip the remains of the wall, shoving them aside with sheer force, his movements frantic and desperate.

“Don’t move,” he orders, his voice low and strained. There’s a wild look in his eyes, panic flashing through them as he kneels beside you, his hands trembling as he assesses the damage.

You wince, pain radiating through your body, but his presence is grounding. You’ve never seen him like this before — not Katsuki Bakugou, the unshakable, unstoppable hero. This is different. This is raw.

“I’m… I’m okay,” you manage to whisper, but even you don’t believe the words. You feel the blood seeping from your leg, the sharp pain making your vision swim.

“Shut up,” he snaps, but his voice cracks, betraying the fear he’s trying to hide. “Just— Just hold on. You’re not— I’m not gonna let you die.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, exhaustion and pain weighing you down. But you feel his hands on you, gentle in a way you didn’t think was possible. You hear the strain in his voice, the way his breath hitches as he fights to keep it together.

“Katsuki…” you murmur, your fingers weakly reaching for his hand. You’re scared. More scared than you’ve ever been. But he’s here. That’s all that matters.

“Damn it,” he curses under his breath, his hand gripping yours tightly, almost painfully. “You’re not leaving me. You hear me?”

You try to speak, to reassure him, but your voice falters. Darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, and you feel your consciousness slipping.

And then, you hear it.

“I— I can’t lose you.” His voice is raw, broken, filled with a vulnerability you’ve never heard before. “I— Fuck, I’m such an idiot. I— I love you, okay? I love you, and I should’ve said it sooner, but I—”

His words blur in your fading mind, but you catch enough. Your heart clenches, and despite the pain, you feel a warmth bloom inside you.

“I love you, too…” you whisper, just before everything goes dark.

When you finally wake, the first thing you feel is warmth. Soft, comforting warmth, like sunlight after a storm. Your body is heavy, but the pain is dulled, replaced by a numbness that you recognize as medical treatment.

Slowly, you blink your eyes open, adjusting to the dim light of the hospital room. And then, you see him.

Katsuki is sitting beside you, slumped forward in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, his head hanging low. He looks exhausted, his hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes. But he’s here.

“Katsuki…” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

His head snaps up instantly, eyes wide as he looks at you. Relief floods his features, followed quickly by something else — something softer, more tender.

“Idiot,” he mutters, standing up and moving to your bedside. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You smile weakly, still groggy. “You were scared?”

“Tch.” He avoids your gaze, his face turning red. “Shut up.”

But then, before you can say anything else, his hand reaches for yours, and he leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that’s fierce and gentle all at once. It’s everything — all the tension, all the frustration, all the unspoken feelings between you finally breaking free.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, his voice low, but there’s no hesitation now. No stubbornness. “I love you.”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “I know.”

And for the first time, there’s no more pretending, no more pushing each other away. Just you, and him, and the truth that’s been there all along.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like at once.

[spencerrreiddd]

Three, Two, One. - Chapter 2

Summary: After telling Spencer that you’re pregnant with his baby- how is he going to react? what’s going to happen now?

Pairing: UnitChief!Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, Mention of abortion, Angst, Fluff?

WC: 3.0k

A/N: - chapter 2 has finally made its ARRIVAL! enjoy ! 🔪🤍

UPDATE: chapter 2 is under an editing process !

Three, Two, One. - Chapter 1.

"Spencer, I'm pregnant - You are the last person I slept with. I am pregnant with your baby" You said it before you even had time to think about what you had said, it wasn't lies but telling him now?

You could visibly see all of the color leave Spencer's face, you wondered what was going through his big genius brain, if anything at all.

"W-what? We were careful, we were very careful." -

Before you could even produce words, you were cut off again by Spencer and the panic coursing through his entire being.

"How could this of even happened, Y/N?" He asked quickly, making his panic more and more obvious by the second.

"Spencer, you are fully aware of how this happens and careful isn't always guaranteed to be 100% effective" After the words came out of your mouth, you realized it was a bit snippy but- c’mon, Spencer is a genius. He of all people should know that being careful and using protection is always 100%.

All he could do was stare, like he wanted to say something but had no idea how to start moving his lips to speak the words. He was frozen in place.

"I- I know we are not in a relationship, Penelope told me that you were talking to someone and that's fine- if you don't want any part in this, I will keep my lips sealed" You continued, it broke more of your heart saying that.

You knew Spencer, you know Spencer and you know that he isn't the type of person to abandon someone with his child- You would be 100% fine being a single parent and healthily co-parenting with him, if that is what it came down to but you would be lying to yourself, if you said you didn’t want a relationship with him. You’ve wanted a relationship with him for years, you just never spoke on your feelings so a beautiful friendship wasn’t ruined because of it.

"Y/N, I'm just in shock, I mean, I wasn't expecting this- I was expecting something after the conversation I walked up on with Alvez and Garcia but not this" You honestly could understand what he was saying but did it hurt? Of course, it did but you are also taking his feelings into consideration.

And what conversation did he walk in on with Alvez and Garcia anyways?

Spencer could barely look you in the eye, he was starting to pace around like a dog that needed to go out for the potty.

"If you need time to let this all sink in, that's okay with me and I understand, honestly. This is a lot to take in, in a short amount of time" You could sympathize with him, for godsakes it's still hard for you to accept whats happening but you know you have to accept it.

"I just need some time to- to bring this all in, It's just a lot" He says, finally looking you in the eyes.

"I will contact you, Y/N. I won't leave you in the dark, please trust my word on that" His eyes pleading with you to trust him, to trust what he is saying to you.

And to be entirely honest, you do trust him. You trust him with your entire life but it doesn't stop the pain that you feel in your chest and how suffocating the pain is.

"Take your time, please. I understand that it's a lot, Spence- just don’t leave me in the dark” You surprisingly manage to choke out with the hot tears pricking your eyes.

Watching him walk out of your apartment tore you apart, you wanted to chase after him, beg him to come back, wrap his arms around you and tell you that it's all going to be okay but it was all wishful dreaming.

Right now, all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry and maybe stuff your face with sweet treats, sweet treats that you didn't even have but you knew who would have them.

to: ‘Penelope Garcia 🖥️💖🍩’

'are you busy? - I need someone and I need sweet treats, please come through for me, my sweet crazy lady'

You could at least giggle at yourself with the little random nickname you through in there at the end of your text message. Ever since you joined the BAU and met Pen, y’all were best friends, she was there for the worst times of your live and for the best times of it.

You always thought, if she can produce weird and funny nicknames for people then you can to- outside of Spencer, she was the one you grew very close to.

You were close with everyone and you loved them dearly- Rossi, Tara, JJ, all of them but it just seemed so much easier with Penelope.

from: ‘Penelope Garcia 🖥️💖🍩’

'I am on my speedy way, my sweet sugar plum'

All you could manage to do after reading her text was zone out and stare at a random wall in your apartment, other than feeling like your heart was absolutely shattered, you wren't sure if you were even happy about all of this- maybe, just maybe if the situation would've been different, you could probably be happier.

Have you always wanted children? Of course! but before getting pregnant did you at least want to be in a stable relationship or marriage? Also, yes.

Before you even realized how much time had passed, Penelope was running through your front door and holding all of your favorite sweet treats- Honey Buns, Oatmeal Cream Pies and your ultimate favorite, Fudge Rounds.

As soon as she was fully in the door and sat everything down, you collapsed in her arms crying your heart out. Everything, the tears and the sobs had been waiting to spill out until this moment.

"Okay, okay, what's going on" Worry coating her voice - "Nobody could reach you after you ran out of work, even Spencer was worried about you!- Did you get any of my texts or voicemails"

"I told him- I told him about the baby. It all came out before I could even process my thoughts" You had a small amount of hope in your soul that she would be able to understand that through your sobs.

Looking at Pen after you said that, you could see the wheels turning in her head. Realization setting in.

"Reid came by here? By your apartment?" She questioned.

"Yeah, I was just relaxing and came out to the kitchen and I nearly ran right smack into him. He nearly gave me a heart attack in my own house" You were still unappreciative of that scare to say the least.

"Ho-how did he take the news"

"Not horrible but not how a woman would hope her-"

"Person would react" Penelope cuts you off seeing as you couldn't even figure out you own words.

"Exactly but as hard as it is, he isn't even my person. He's my boss, Pen. My boss. Our boss got me pregnant because we stupidly decided to have sex a few times to release the stress of work and life because evidently, we couldn't just sit down over coffee and vent to each other" You don't feel shame admitting that, should you? Maybe but you and Spencer are both adults.

Now that you're thinking about it, he never did confirm or deny, if he was talking to someone or not- It probably wasn't your business but at the same time, you felt like it was. I mean, you are carrying his child and you don't want to be responsible for tearing apart a relationship or a relationship that is forming.

Spencer has been through enough hurt with JJ and with Maeve. You couldn't bear the hurt and the guilt of causing him more pain like that or even similar to it.

Remembering and witnessing his pain first hand after Maeve was gut-wrenching, it made you want to lay and sob right there with him.

from: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'I'm sorry for how I left, how I was unable to sit down and talk with you. Can we meet tomorrow?

'It would be good to sit and talk about all of this and there are things that I need to tell you, still.'

You couldn't even look at the message, so you had Penelope read it and just simply asked her to tell you if it was good or if it was bad.

"He wants to sit and talk to you, says he is sorry for how he left- I would say that's a good message" Handing you your phone back, so you could message him back. If you could even bring yourself to do that. In reality, you knew that it was the right thing to do.

to: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'Sure, I would feel comfortable speaking here, at my apartment. Is that okay with you? You can come over at any time tomorrow- If not, let me know and we can figure out another place to meet'

"I asked him if we could just meet and talk here. Do you think that's okay to even ask? Asking him to come here? I should've asked where he felt comfortable meeting" You are beginning to overthink everything and rambling on- you care about Reid's feelings but right now, you're caring for yourself more as selfish as that sounds.

"Y/N, that's a perfectly fine thing to ask- what's gonna happen? He's going to knock you up.. again? Y'all are talking, not getting under the sheets" How she said it made you laugh a bit considering the situation.

from: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'That's fine with me, Y/N- I will be there at 10:30.'

You surprisingly feel relief washing over you reading his message-

'Let's just hope tomorrow goes better' You think to yourself.

“Oh. Pen. What conversation did Spencer walk in on you and Alvez having, anyways?”

“I saw you run out of work and I knew at that point, Alvez opened his mouth about something I shouldn’t have even spoken to him about and I’m sorry, for telling him- we didn’t tell Reid anything, though” She admits, you weren’t mad at her- you just had confusion after hearing Spencer say he overheard their conversation.

After a few hours of eating sweets and watching Modern Family with Penny, you started getting tired -

"I'm getting tired, Pen- I'm gonna go to bed, you're welcome to crash on the couch, if you're too tired to drive" Partially hinting at her that you wanted to be alone but you still didn't want her falling asleep behind the wheel and hurting herself or someone else.

"Don't be silly, I'm never too tired and plus, I enjoy sleeping on my own couch, if i'm sleeping on any couch, ma'am" She deadpans as she stands to leave.

Hugging her good-bye and giving her the biggest thank you for coming over to calm you and well, the sweets too.

"I love you, Penny- I'm also keeping these sweets. I know my pregnancy cravings will appreciate them soon and you for bringing them"

"You better be happy that I love and adore you, I wanted to take the Honey Buns with me- oh, and yes, I love my next god-child too" She says in a jokingly way while walking out the door.

After Penelope left, you decided that you did need sleep even though you would probably be struggling to even close your eyes because of your wonderful habit to and overthink every tiny thing about anything and everything in you life- all of this going on with Spencer is just fueling your ability to overthink. Lovely.

'What if he asks me to get rid of it' 'What if he ends up being a deadbeat and i'm stuck raising this baby alone' 'What if we can't co-parent in a healthy way and it causes the child trauma' - Any and every 'what if' flew through your mind. It felt like hours before your eyes finally closed and you were able to get sleep.

After waking up to the sun shining directly into your eyes, you roll over just to see 10:27 A.M on your alarm clock. - You don't remember ever having to fly out of bed that quickly, except maybe when you were in school and running late or even yesterday with work.

Walking out of your room and into the living room to sit in peace for about a minute or two before Spencer shows up. The nausea you began to feel was becoming over powering. Was it from pregnancy? Was it from the nerves? You didn't know but you were accepting your fate that you may or may not upchuck everywhere.

10:30 A.M - KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Right on time" You mumble to yourself, you weren't expecting him to be a minute early or late.

"Come in" You yell, not having any energy to stand up and not wanting to move because it was making your nausea 10x worse.

"Hey" He greets coming through your door, he doesn't appear to have gotten any sleep- his hair messy, he has dark bags under his eyes.

"Hey, glad to see you showed- I'm sorry, I didn't mean that in a horrible way, I know what you said yesterd- I'm rambling. I'm glad you're here, Spencer" Another bad habit of yours, rambling on and on when you were nervous.

"Me too. Where do you want to start- I mean, I've never had to have this conversation with anyone else before" You could clearly hear the nerves in his voice.

You know you want to keep the baby. Regardless of what happens between you and Spencer. Tell him that.

"I'm keeping the baby, Spencer. That's my plan. I know we aren't in a relationship and we don't have to be to healthily co-parent and if you don't want to be involved, I understand because you're working on building a relationship with someone else but-" Spencer cuts you off before you can continue on with your rambling.

"Okay, pause for just a minute. I'm not in a relationship, I'm not working towards a relationship with anyone else. Where are you getting that information?" He asks with slight irritation in his voice.

"Penelope did, I went into work yesterday and I told her about me being pregnant, blah blah blah- she told me that you had a girlfriend, as far as she knew at least because the contact name for her 'wasn't a name you gave a friend"

"Y/N, getting back to the point then I will come back and touch on that- I wanted you to keep this baby, I want you to keep our baby. I've always wanted to be a dad, you know that about me. I want to be here every step of the way with you, with our child" Spencer is looking into your eyes with every word coming from his lips.

"And to touch on this topic because the names in my contacts are evidently Penelope's business, the name she is referring to is 'Pretty Girl', which is you, Y/N- Since we're on the honesty road, Y/N, I love you and I mean that, I've loved you for years, this isn't coming out of nowhere for me and it's not because of our current situation, either" You're blown away by everything Spencer has just said to you to say the absolute least.

Honestly, now that your mind isn't running a marathon, you could pinpoint certain changing things between you and Spencer- the longing looks between one another, bringing each other breakfast and coffee in the mornings, which never happened beforehand, the private meetings after work to just talk, nothing sexual ever involved but last but not least, the sex between the two of you.

'He loves me, he loves our child, he's been in love with me for years- I am the weird? contact name in his phone that Pen had spotted.' You think to yourself, seemingly not able to produce words after Spencer's confessions.

"Spence, I don't even know what to say or how to begin saying it. - I love you, I loved you since the first time I saw you walk into the bullpen and Gideon introduced his newest prodigy to all of us. - I'm happy, so happy that you want to be apart of our babies life and be here for us."

Neither of you have words after you both say your peace, you've both just poured your hearts out but your eyes are still saying so many things to each other.

"Y/N, I love you and I want a future with you. I want to have a family with you, if you'll allow it" Spencer confesses further moving closer to you.

"I would love that, Spencer" It came out as a whisper but with how close he was to you, to your face- you know that he heard you.

Moving even closer, Spencer takes your face in his hands and kisses you gently- It's a kiss that you can tell is filled with love, comfort and pure gentleness. Nothing like the kisses y'all shared in bed when y'all were just trying to reach an orgasm after a rough case.

Finally, you both break apart, breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each others.

"Not to ruin such a beautiful moment that I have been waiting years for, what's going on with all the 'Little Debbie' boxes" Spencer jokingly asks you, finally realizing the boxes you forgot to put away last night.

"Penelope was here last night, I asked her to come over with sweets after you had left- I needed honey buns to cope" Shrugging your shoulders saying it, you had no shame in your sweet tooth game and you certainly wouldn't when your pregnancy cravings really started attacking you.

"So, another quick thing- of all people, why would you tell Alvez and Garcia this news?" Spencer looking at you, confused as ever as to why you would tell two of the biggest blabbers.

"I didn't tell Alvez, I told Garcia and she "let it slip" to Alvez- Alvez is why I left the other day. He came up to me talking about it loud enough for anyone else to hear him, if they were paying any attention at all- It got to me, frustrated me. I should've communicated better but, I wasn't exactly coping well yesterday" There was nothing to hold back now and frankly, at this point, you had zero shame about any of that and any of what was currently happening.

"I'm not upset- I was worried, I should've came myself after I heard that you left, I should've at the very least sent someone to come and check on -"

"Spencer, it's okay. I would've probably ignored the knocking of anyone and my phone was on do not disturb anyways, I wanted to be alone. Don't beat yourself up about this. We're okay. I love you." You couldn't stop yourself from cutting him off, you couldn't stand to watch him beat himself up, you couldn't stand watching anyone beat themselves up.

"Y/N, I love you and I want you to be mine, I want this family."

"And I love you, Spencer and I want to be yours and I want you to be apart of this family. I loved you then and I love you now."

not going to lie, i thought this was going to be a 3 part story- not including the epilogue that i do plan to make for this mini-series.

i, personally am happy with how this turned out with this being my first writing in so long and being rusty to say the least.

i hope you, my dearies, enjoyed reading it and i hope you look forward to more stories coming your way.

PLEASE MAKE SURE TO LEAVE FEEDBACK

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[darnell-la]

can i request older logan with reader who’s a crybaby… reader who cries over little things and older logan who can’t help but get hard and coddle her. wiping away tears during sex!!!

note: older Logan wouldn’t take y/n’s crying session seriously. Usually, they’d all be because of work, something he’s told her a thousand times he didn’t want her to do, so a part of him didn’t care. Instead, he loved how much she cried, taking advantage of it whenever he could.

———

“How was work today, Bub?” Logan asked, eyes glued to the newspaper he had picked up in front of the door earlier this morning. Y/n hadn’t said anything. She tried thinking of what exactly she should say, but he had spoken first.

“Bub? What up?” Logan asked, eyes looking over his reading glasses as she slipped off her shoes and hung her things up. “I-I — You know,” y/n said, but Logan in fact did not know.

“I know what?” He asked, setting his paper aside as he felt something wrong with her. “Work today — It was just exhausting,” she said as she went into the kitchen to grab a glass of any alcohol Logan bought for himself, and she drank occasionally.

“What happened?” Logan asked as she got up, listening closely to her story of the day. The more she talked, the more cracks he heard in her house.

“A-And the boss said maybe he’d fire me if I kept snapping back at the customers, but they always start it! Every day, it’s the same s-shit!”

“Baby, baby,” Logan said as he came up behind the young lady before she could pick up the glass she had just filled. “Don’t need you drinkin’ your problems away. It ain’t good for you,”

“I know, but — I just need something, Logan. This is so stressful,” she said as he turned her around to take a look at her face, and like he knew it, she was crying. Eyes glossy and puffy as always.

“Baby,” Logan tilted his head with a sigh, upset that she’s always stressed and taking in everything people say to her. He wished she could just move on with life, and stay happy with a big smile.

“Look at me, Bub,” Logan said as he lifted her head after she tried turning her head. “You need to relax — Stop letting these people get to your head,” Logan said as he wiped her tears.

“I know, but-“ y/n tried saying, but the man shushed her. “Don’t speak, Bub, just relax. And no drinking either,” Logan said as he moved the glass she filled to the side.

“You’re too pretty to be cryin’ all the time, baby,” Logan said as his faves nuzzled hers. “I-It’s just so much,” y/n cried as his hands rubbed her body, trying to calm her down a bit.

“I know, baby, and what did I tell you? Told you I’d take that easy lumberjack job, right? Get us double what an average human man could make workin’ for ‘em and put that money towards our cabin,” Logan reminded her.

“Baby, I don’t want you to work though,” y/n said as his hands tracked up her shirt. “And why can’t I? I’m the man, and you’re my pretty girl. I’m tired of being a housewife. That’s your job, or at least let me do it all. You can relax the rest of your pretty life,” Logan said in the crook of her neck.

“You’re gonna take my offer, bub. Ian askin,” Logan’s hand dug into her jeans to rub at her cunt until she squealed. “I-I don’t know,” she still cried, upset at herself for being this sensitive and also hit by the instant pleasure Logan was giving her.

“What did I say, baby? This ain’t askin,” Logan said before he ripped y/n’s jeans off of her. She gasped as he picked her up and placed her on the counter, spreading her legs as he pulled himself out of his jeans.

“You should be waitin’ at home for him to come back and give it up. Not the other way around, baby,”

Logan pushed into the weeping girl, making her hands fly up to grip shi shoulder. “Logan,” y/n sobbed, feeling his cock run through her walls in all of the right ways. He always made her forget why she cried in the first place.

“Ssh, baby — Just enjoy me. Cunts beggin’ for it,” Logan said as he cupped her face, wiping all of the tears that streamed down her face. “Mhm hmm,” he groaned as his free arm hooked under one of her legs to get a good new angle to pound her in.

“L-Lo,” y/n cried out, loving the way his body smacked against hers. “That’s it, baby — Let it all out,” Logan pulled her into his body, pounding so hard, that the countertop began shifting.

“Cry on my cock, baby — Look so good like this. So fuckin’ good,” Logan couldn’t lie as his eyes could barely stay open and tears still streamed from them. He was Jauch a crybaby, but his crybaby.

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter two of ten

wc. 2.6K

prologue | part 1 | part 3 [soon!]

The air in the room became impossibly thick as Gojo’s voice echoed through the hideout, his presence overpowering everything else. The tension was suffocating, your heart hammering in your chest as you stood frozen in place. Satoru Gojo—he was here, and from the look in his eyes, there was no mistaking the anger simmering beneath the surface. For the first time, you felt a tremor of fear—not just for yourself, but for what would happen next.

Suguru Geto turned slowly, his calm demeanor unwavering despite the sudden arrival of his former best friend. His dark eyes flicked toward Gojo, and for a brief moment, something flickered between them—na unspoken recognition, a history that hung between them like a heavy shadow. But Geto didn’t seem surprised. If anything, it was as if he had been expecting this.

“Well, well,” Geto said, his voice low and smooth, as if he were welcoming na old acquaintance. “I was wondering when you’d show up, Satoru.”

Gojo’s eyes never left yours, his piercing gaze locked onto you with na intensity that made it hard to breathe. The weight of his presence pressed down on you, making you feel like a child caught in the middle of a storm you had no control over. You wanted to speak, to explain, but the words stuck in your throat. What could you even say? That you had chosen to leave Jujutsu High, to abandon everything you once knew, to follow the man who stood before you?

“So,” Gojo said, his tone biting, “you’re joining him now? Is this what you really want?”

His question was sharp, cutting straight through you, and you couldn’t help but flinch under the accusation in his voice. He wasn’t just angry—there was something else in his eyes, something deeper, something that almost looked like hurt. But that didn’t make sense. Why would he care? He had rejected you, brushed you aside like you didn’t matter. So why was he here now, standing in front of you, as if your decision had somehow affected him?

“I… I made my choice,” you managed to say, though your voice was barely above a whisper. You stood straighter, trying to summon the strength you had felt just moments ago, before Gojo had arrived. “This is what I want.”

But even as you said the words, a flicker of doubt crept into your heart. Was this truly what you wanted? Or had you been so desperate to escape your pain that you’d latched onto Geto’s ideals without fully understanding the consequences?

Geto stepped forward, his presence grounding you as he spoke with the calm authority that had drawn you to him in the first place. “She came to me of her own will, Satoru. Don’t you see? She’s tired of being part of your broken world. She’s found something better.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, and you could see the muscles in his neck tighten as he took a step closer, closing the distance between the two of you. His gaze flicked to Geto, and his voice was low, dangerously so. “You think you can manipulate her like this, Geto? Just like everyone else who follows you?”

Your breath caught in your throat at the accusation, and something inside you twisted painfully. Manipulate? Is that what Gojo thought this was? That you were too weak, too naive to make your own decisions?

“I’m not being manipulated,” you said, more forcefully this time, the frustration bubbling up inside you. “I chose this because I believe in it. I believe in what Geto stands for.”

Gojo’s eyes snapped back to yours, and for a moment, the weight of his stare was unbearable. “Do you really?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more measured. “Do you even know what he stands for? Or are you just running away from something you don’t want to face?”

His words cut deep, because somewhere in your heart, you knew there was truth in them. But you couldn’t admit that, not now, not when you had already come this far. You were trying to move forward, to leave the pain behind. But Gojo, with his relentless gaze and piercing questions, was forcing you to confront everything you had been running from.

“I’m not running away,” you said, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to carry. “I’m tired of… of being nothing. Tired of trying to live in a world that doesn’t care about me. With Geto, I can be part of something real.”

Gojo’s expression darkened, and he closed the distance between the two of you in na instant. His hand reached out, but instead of grabbing you, his fingers curled around your wrist gently, holding you in place as if daring you to pull away.

“You think Geto cares about you?” he asked, his voice low and intense. “You think he’ll give you the life you want? He doesn’t care about people like you—he uses them. That’s how he operates.”

You tried to pull away from him, but Gojo’s grip was firm, not painful, but strong enough to keep you there, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was something raw in his expression now, something vulnerable that you hadn’t seen before. His usual playful, carefree mask was gone, replaced by a seriousness that rattled you to your core.

“He’ll break you, just like he’s broken everyone else who’s followed him,” Gojo continued, his voice soft but relentless. “And when he’s done, he’ll toss you aside. Is that really what you want?”

A lump formed in your throat, and for the first time since you had made the decision to leave, doubt fully seeped into your chest. You had thought Geto’s ideals offered freedom, a place to belong, but Gojo’s words made you question everything. Was Geto just using you? Was this really your escape, or was it just another trap?

Before you could answer, Geto’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“Let her go, Satoru.”

Gojo didn’t move, his eyes still locked onto yours, but you could feel the tension between the two men grow heavier. Geto’s calm demeanor was still intact, but there was a steeliness in his gaze now, a warning.

“This isn’t about you and me, Geto,” Gojo said quietly. “This is about her.”

“And she’s made her choice,” Geto replied, his voice smooth but firm. “Let her go.”

Gojo’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now, as if this was the last chance he had to reach you. “You can come back. You don’t have to go down this path.”

Your chest tightened, your thoughts spinning in every direction. You had come this far, had left everything behind. But now, with Gojo standing in front of you, his presence so overwhelming, his voice cutting through your resolve, you didn’t know what to do.

You could feel the weight of Geto’s gaze on you as well, though it was calmer, more patient, as if he knew what decision you would make. But did he? Did you?

Torn between two powerful forces, you stood there, caught between Gojo’s plea and Geto’s promises. This was the moment of truth—the moment that would define the rest of your life.

But which path would you take?

The silence in the room was deafening, the air thick with tension as you stood between Gojo and Geto, the two forces that had pulled you in opposite directions since you left Jujutsu High. But the weight of your decision had already settled in your heart. Gojo’s words, though laced with concern, had only deepened the wound he had inflicted on you from the start. He had broken you once—shattered your heart with his rejection—and now he stood there, pleading with you as if he could somehow undo the damage. But it was too late for that.

You looked down at the hand gripping your wrist, the heat of his touch sparking emotions you weren’t ready to feel. The words he spoke weren’t enough to erase the pain, the months of being invisible in his eyes. He wanted to protect you now, but where had that concern been when you needed it most? His sudden care felt like a cruel afterthought, too little, too late.

With a deep breath, you pulled your wrist out of Gojo’s grasp, stepping back from him. The look in his eyes twisted something inside of you—there was hurt there, masked beneath his usual confidence. But he had already broken you once, and you couldn’t allow him to do it again. There was nothing left for him to shatter.

“I’ve made my choice,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended, but firm. You looked at Gojo, holding his gaze, even though it was painful. “You were right… maybe I’m running from something. But I’ve already run too far to turn back now.”

The silence that followed your words felt like the calm before a storm. Gojo’s face shifted, the tension around his eyes tightening, his jaw clenching. He didn’t speak immediately, but the weight of his disappointment was palpable, pressing down on you like a physical force. His usual carefree mask was gone, replaced by something much darker, much heavier.

“Is that really what you want?” Gojo asked, his voice low, the sharpness in his tone cutting through you. “To throw away everything? To follow him?”

The anger simmering beneath his calm exterior finally surfaced, and you could see the battle raging within him—his protective instincts clashing with the hurt of your choice. But there was no going back now.

“Yes,” you said, your voice stronger this time. “I’m following Geto. There’s nothing left for me at Jujutsu High.”

Gojo took a step forward, his expression hardening. “You think this will make things better? Geto will—”

“He can’t break me,” you interrupted, your words laced with a rawness that surprised even you. “You already did that.”

The room seemed to freeze after that. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Gojo’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something—regret, maybe—crossing his face. But it was fleeting, gone before you could truly understand it. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, relaxed for a moment before tightening again.

There was nothing more to say. You had laid bare the truth. Gojo had broken you in ways he didn’t even realize, and now you were too far gone to be saved. You weren’t the same person who had walked into his classroom with a gift and a confession. That person was long gone.

Geto, who had been silent through the entire exchange, finally stepped forward, his presence calm and steady. His dark eyes flickered between you and Gojo, and though his expression remained neutral, you could feel the satisfaction radiating from him.

“I told you, Satoru,” Geto said softly, his voice carrying a weight of certainty. “You can’t save everyone.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. But then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet space.

You stood frozen for a few moments, the weight of everything crashing down on you. Gojo was gone. You had pushed him away. It was over.

“Are you sure about this?” Geto’s voice broke through your thoughts, gentle but laced with a warning. “Once you walk this path, there’s no going back. Not even for you.”

You didn’t hesitate this time. The decision had already been made.

“I’m sure,” you said, turning to face Geto fully. “I have nothing left to lose.”

Geto’s eyes softened slightly, and for the first time, you felt something close to comfort in his presence. It wasn’t warmth or kindness—it was the understanding that came from someone who had already walked the same path you were about to take.

“You’ve been broken before,” Geto said, almost thoughtfully, “but that means you know what it’s like to rebuild yourself.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded. “Follow me, then.”

Without waiting for you to respond, Geto turned and began walking deeper into the hideout, his presence commanding as always. You followed without hesitation, your steps feeling heavier but more purposeful. Each one took you further from the life you once knew, the person you once were.

As you walked through the dimly lit corridors, you couldn’t help but think of Gojo one last time. His face, his voice, the way he had looked at you with both anger and something close to care—it all lingered in your mind like a ghost. But that part of your life was over. Gojo had his world, and you had chosen yours.

Geto led you into a small chamber, sparsely furnished but enough to serve as a living space. “This will be yours,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “For now.”

You nodded, setting your bag down in the corner. The room felt cold, unfamiliar, but there was a strange sense of comfort in that. This was your new beginning, no matter how difficult or dangerous it would be.

Geto lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching you closely. “You’ll train with us,” he said, “but more importantly, you’ll learn what it means to truly live outside the constraints of the world you’ve known.”

His words were heavy, and you knew that what he was offering wasn’t just strength—it was freedom, a chance to create something new from the broken pieces of your life. It was dangerous, yes, but you had already risked everything to be here.

“And remember,” Geto continued, his voice softer now, “this is your choice. No one can take that from you.”

You met his gaze and nodded. “I won’t regret it.”

Geto’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes as he stepped back. “Good.”

With that, he left you alone in the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

You sat down on the edge of the small bed, exhaling slowly. The silence was heavy, but it was different from the silence you had known at Jujutsu High. This silence wasn’t filled with the weight of invisible expectations or the pain of rejection. It was simply… empty.

For the first time in a long while, the emptiness didn’t scare you. It didn’t hurt.

Because now, for better or for worse, you were free to fill it with whatever you chose.

And you would.

As you sat there, your mind quieted, and a sense of determination settled over you like a cloak. There was no turning back now. You were following Geto’s path, and in doing so, you were forging your own.

Gojo had broken you enough already.

There was nothing left for Geto to break.

notes: Guys~ thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! <3 if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

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©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[literaila]

Need more gojo reader smoochfest

“remember this one?”

you’re a little bit dizzy, by now. you can’t remember how long, or when all of this started—but the end result isn’t necessarily unpleasant.

you hadn’t wanted to join nanami and shoko (and gojo whoever that is) for a drink—after a long day, three too many outfit changes, and a bed that you missed like an old childhood friend.

but your complaints are only partially heard, and satoru tends to drag you along wherever he goes, like a doll.

currently, though, you don’t really mind that.

gojo is not drunk, but you definitely are.

that’s why, mind you, when satoru spins you around again on the sticky linoleum floor, in this shitty bar that is definitely too small for dancing—you stumble a little.

but satoru’s hand is right there on your waist, keeping you steady and making sure that you don’t run into anyone that could be passing by.

usually he would let you trip and fall and spill someone’s drink down their shirt—because that would be hilarious—but you’re drunk, and he’s not and…

he enjoys taking care of you, when he gets the chance.

“no,” you say, giggling, when you’re spun back to him. “but i don’t think you should do it again.”

he’s grinning down at you. “why not?”

“because i might puke.”

satoru snorts, slowing his dancing down a little bit—because you really are swaying. “cute.”

“i know. aren’t you glad you married me?”

his eyes are covered but they’re sparkling (or you’re hallucinating). “very glad,” he says, with all the swagger that his seventeen year old self had.

that is to say, absolutely none.

but you lean in anyway, drunk and giddy and sweet, and brush your nose against his.

and satoru complies, like he always does, so his breath tickles your mouth and one of his hand finds its way to your jaw.

you kiss him once, just a slight peck, and pull back. you’ve always been a tease, but you usually reserve it for at home.

not now, though, when he’s so focused on only you, and so close that he could swallow you whole.

dancing always reminds you of satoru proposing, of letting him guide you wherever he wants to go in some sick metaphor about love and torture, the cure and the curse.

and, goddamnit, you’ve always been a sappy drunk. you’re going to regret this in the morning—especially because satoru has the upper hand here.

you told him you loved him for the first time because you were drunk.

and so, “i think im in love you,” you say now, again, just to get him to smile.

“then don’t tease me,” his tone is stern, a bit whiny, but you can see his dimples now.

“it’s so fun, though.”

“everything’s fun when you’re drunk.”

“tipsy.”

“okay, baby.”

“and everything’s fun with you.”

satoru’s mouth opens, his canines glittering in the dim light of the bar, and then he scoffs, “you—“ but he never finishes the sentence because his hand moves to the back of your head and he’s kissing you again.

you settle on your tip toes to reach him, sighing as he pulls you closer.

and you’re not moving now, nonetheless dancing, but who the hell cares?

satoru bites at your bottom lip, as punishment for being in love with him, and allows you to wrap your hands around his neck, drawing circles with your fingertips.

your body is so heavy and uneven, but it’s easy to kiss him like this. you’re not self conscious about the other people because satoru will keep them away from you both, and you’re not worried about breathing because why would you need to breathe when you could be kissing him?

still, eventually he pushes you back, setting his hands on your shoulders so you don’t fall. and he grins at you again, cheeky. “i think i love you, too.”

“oh, good. or this would be awkward.”

he kisses you again, a bit softer, but it’s not even a kiss, really.

because you’re both just laughing into each other, and everything seems so funny for a moment that you just let it happen. if you could rank the moments in time, kissing satoru like this would be very close to the top.

and someone probably shouts at you to get a room—but who cares anyway?