#he really really like does so good with like all the voices

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK Men React to Seeing You in Their Clothes

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Yuta x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: fluff over fluff, I'm pretty sure I already wrote something like this but I can't find it anymore lol, all scenarios talk about the clothes of the said jjk men being big on you so please don't read if this isn't what you vibe with (but feel free to let me know if you want a version in which their clothes actually fit reader quite well!)

Gojo Satoru

The apartment is unusually quiet as you move through the living room, your bare feet padding lightly across the cool floor. Gojo had left early this morning to deal with some “business,” leaving you alone with nothing but a mess of his belongings scattered around. You’re not one to complain though - cleaning up after him has become second nature after spending so much time together.

As you tidy up his place, you come across one of his oversized hoodies. It’s sprawled across the back of a chair, still slightly wrinkled from when he wore it the night before. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the fabric, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, you find yourself reaching for it.

It’s soft, much softer than you expected. You hold it for a moment, staring at it thoughtfully before a mischievous grin tugs at your lips. You slip the hoodie over your head, the fabric swallowing you whole. The sleeves are comically long, almost covering your hands completely, and the hemline reaches down to your thighs. It’s so big that it feels like you’re wearing a blanket, and despite yourself, you giggle at the sight of your reflection in the hallway mirror.

You sit down on the couch, pulling your legs up under the hoodie, and let yourself relax into the comfort of wearing something that smells like him. His signature cologne that follows him around wherever he goes, that makes your heart skip a beat every time you smell it. To be honest, you really miss him. These past weeks were so busy that you didn’t really get the chance to see him more than 2 hours before passing out sleeping. What you’d do for a whole afternoon, just you and him…

Not long after, you hear the oh so accustomed sound of the door unlocking, followed by the familiar voice of Satoru calling out, “I’m home!”

You stiffen for a moment, wondering how he’ll react, but you can’t hide now. Fuck, you never wore his clothes before. After all, they belong to him and you have no right to grab his stuff as you please.

Before you can say anything to defend yourself, Gojo steps into the living room, his bright blue eyes immediately locking onto you.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

His sunglasses are perched on his head, revealing his crystalline eyes that seem to glow with delight.

“Did you raid my closet while I was gone?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool despite the sudden warmth creeping up your neck.

“Your place was cold. Figured I’d borrow something.”

Gojo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he walks over to you, crouching in front of the couch as he eyes you up and down. His grin widens as he takes in the way the hoodie completely engulfs you, making you look even smaller than usual.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, laced with something playful but undeniably affectionate.

He reaches out, tugging on one of the oversized sleeves gently.

“In fact, I think it suits you better than it does me.”

You scoff, though your heart skips a beat at the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You think everything looks good on me.”

“That’s because it does.”

His grin is infuriatingly confident, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“But you, wearing my clothes? I think that might be my favorite look.”

He leans closer, his nose brushing against your temple before pressing a soft kiss there.

“You can keep it if you want,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t think I’m getting it back anyway.”

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s early morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a soft glow over Megumi’s small apartment. He’s still asleep, his dark hair a mess of unruly strands as he breathes softly beside you. You’ve been staying with him for the weekend, a rare break from the chaos of jujutsu sorcery.

As you quietly slip out of bed, careful not to wake him, you feel the cool air hit your skin. Without thinking, you look around the room for something to cover yourself with. Your eyes land on one of Megumi’s plain black shirts, tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. It’s oversized, much bigger than anything you’d typically wear, but you shrug and grab it anyway.

Slipping it over your head, the fabric is soft and familiar, carrying the faint scent of him. It hangs loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long and the hem falling halfway down your thighs. You glance at yourself in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. There’s something comforting about wearing his clothes, like having a part of him with you even when he’s asleep.

As you turn back toward the bed, you freeze. Megumi’s awake. His dark eyes are half-lidded, still clouded with sleep as he watches you from the bed. You can’t quite read his expression -it’s a mixture of surprise, confusion, and something else you can’t place.

“You’re up early,” he mutters, his voice still thick with sleep.

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed your shirt.”

Megumi blinks, his gaze drifting over you slowly. He doesn’t say anything right away, but you can see the way his eyes linger on the way the shirt swallows you, how it looks like you’re drowning in fabric. After a long moment, he finally speaks, his voice quieter than before.

“It looks good on you,” he finally speaks out, a little awkwardly, as if he’s not quite sure how to compliment you.

“Better than it does on me.”

You can’t help but laugh at how flustered he seems, even though he’s trying to play it cool.

“Really? I think it’s a little big.”

Megumi shakes his head, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his messy hair.

“No. It’s perfect.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, almost shyly,

“You should wear my stuff more often.”

His words catch you off guard, and you raise an eyebrow at him, surprised. Even though you know all too well that Megumi Fushiguro has a soft spot for you, you never really thought about stealing or borrowing his stuff. After all, he is the guy who slaps the back of Yuji’s head each and every day over stealing his sandwich or equipment. And now…he’s telling you straightforward that he wants you to wear his shirts?

“You want me to?”

He looks away, his usual stoic mask slipping just a bit as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks.

“I mean... yeah. It suits you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. Megumi isn’t one for big, flowery declarations, but this, this small, almost hesitant compliment, is enough to make your chest warm. You walk over to him, climbing back into bed and curling up beside him like you always do after waking up.

“Well, if you insist,” you mutter teasingly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I might just steal more of your clothes.”

Megumi huffs, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his loose shirt.

“I don’t mind.”

Yuta Okkotsu

You’ve been staying at Yuta’s apartment for the past few days, crashing at his place while you’re both on a break from missions. It’s been nice: quiet, peaceful, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company without the usual chaos of jujutsu high looming over you.

It’s late in the evening now, and you’ve just gotten out of the shower, feeling refreshed after a long day. As you towel off your hair, you realize you forgot to grab something to wear. Your suitcase is still in the living room, and you don’t really feel like walking out there in just a towel.

Your groan in frustration over your usual absent-mindlessness, eyes landing on one of Yuta’s old sweatshirts, folded neatly on the chair by his desk. It’s a little worn, clearly well-loved, and the idea of wearing something of his brings a smile to your face. Yuta definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing one of his shirts, right? And even if he did…you’d love to see that little blush creep up his face.

Without thinking twice, you pull the sweatshirt over your head. It’s oversized, the sleeves long enough to cover your hands, and the fabric is soft and cozy against your skin.

You’re adjusting the sleeves when the door creaks open slightly. You look up just as Yuta steps into the room, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you.

“Oh, hey-” he starts, but then he freezes, his gaze locking onto the sweatshirt you’re wearing.

His face flushes almost instantly, a deep red creeping up his cheeks as he stares at you.

“Uh… is that…?”, Yuta stammers, clearly flustered.

You glance down at the sweatshirt and smile sheepishly.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I forgot to grab my clothes, and this looked comfortable.”

Yuta blinks, his face still bright red, but he quickly shakes his head.

“No! I mean, I don’t mind at all! It’s just… you look… um…”

He trails off, his eyes flicking away as if he’s too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

You giggle softly, stepping closer to him, to tease the hell out of him even more. That poor innocent boy who doesn’t even dare looking your direction when you stumble in the bathroom in the morning with noting but a shirt and panties on.

Even though you’ve been together for over a year by now.

“I look… what?”

Yuta clears his throat, still avoiding your gaze.

“You look… really cute,” he mutters, barely audible.

“In my sweatshirt, I mean.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but smile as you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, Yuta.”

He finally meets your gaze, his face still red but his expression softening as he squeezes your hand back.

“You can wear my clothes anytime you want,” he says quietly, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

You grin, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I might just take you up on that.”

Yuta chuckles, his arms wrapping around you in return as he pulls you close.

 “I wouldn’t mind,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Not at all.”

Nanami Kento

It’s late, and Nanami is still out on a mission. You’ve been waiting for him to come home, but the clock is ticking past midnight, and exhaustion is beginning to catch up with you. After all, you’ve had a long and exhausting day at work yourself.

You’re curled up on the couch, half-asleep, when the chill of the evening air prompts you to grab something warmer to wear.

Your own clothes are in the bedroom, and you don’t feel like moving that far. Instead, your eyes land on one of Nanami’s neatly folded dress shirts, sitting on the back of a chair. It’s probably not the warmest option, but the idea of wearing something of his feels comforting, like having a part of him with you while you wait for him to return.

You slip the shirt on, the crisp fabric soft against your skin. It’s too big, of course, the sleeves hanging past your wrists and the hem falling almost to your knees, but it’s cozy in its own way. You curl up on the couch again, pulling the sleeves over your hands and breathing in the faint scent of him that still lingers on the fabric.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until the sound of the front door opening stirs you awake. You sit up groggily, blinking as Nanami steps inside, looking tired but unharmed. He pauses when he sees you, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the sight of you wearing his shirt.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of Nanami’s lips.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he observes, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

You rub your eyes sleepily, nodding.

“It was cold, and I didn’t feel like getting up.”

Nanami walks over to you, his expression soft as he takes in the sight of you.

 “It suits you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“I didn’t expect to come home to this.”

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“If you don’t like it, I can-”

“I like it,” he cuts in, his tone firm but gentle.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand lingers at your cheek.

“I like it very much.”

You smile, leaning into his touch as you look up at him.

“I might have to borrow your clothes more often, then.”

Nanami chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek before he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re welcome to them,” he breathes out.

“Though I have to admit, you make my clothes look much better than I do.”

You laugh softly, your heart warming at his rare display of affection.

“I doubt that.”

Nanami shakes his head, his eyes soft and filled with affection as he looks at you.

“It’s true. But regardless, you’re welcome to them anytime” he insists.

With that, he sits down beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You snuggle into him, the warmth of his body and the comfort of his shirt making you feel safe and content.

“Thank you, Kento,” you whisper, closing your eyes as exhaustion starts to pull you back into sleep.

Nanami presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and soothing as he murmurs,

“Anytime, love.”

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[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 05

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

You spend the Sunday in bed, trying to watch a TV show to shut up your mind, which keeps coming up with all too vivid images of what Sukuna and you did in the locker room. But you can't focus on the show. Instead, your gaze wanders distractedly through your room and brushes over the white, too-large hoodie that is draped over the backrest of your chair. Sukuna's hoodie. And you are mentally back where you started: In the locker room on Sukuna's lap.

You groan and bury your face in your hands. You will have to go to your classes again tomorrow, which means there is a high chance you will bump into a certain pink-haired, tattooed hockey player. But you have no idea how to act around Sukuna after this! Hopefully, you won't run into him, at least for a few days!

But of course, it doesn't work like that. You haven't even started your first class of the week before you see Sukuna again. He is leaning against one of the vending machines in the hallway that leads to your creative writing class, talking to one of his teammates while looking gorgeous as always, with his pink hair slicked back, tight black jeans that accentuate his muscular thighs, and a white team hoodie, just like the one that is waiting for you in your room.

You duck behind a large plant, groaning inwardly at how insane you must look to everyone around you. But you simply cannot face Sukuna right now! Just one look at him brings back the memories of those firm muscles under your fingers and how those large, calloused hands trailed all over your skin, and how good that thick cock felt inside you.

You make a strangled noise as you try to determine whether Sukuna already saw you or whether you can still turn around and run the other way. You are about to give in to the second option. But it's already too late.

"Hey, princess!"

You draw in a sharp breath as you clutch your books to your chest and slowly turn around again. Sukuna is casually strolling over to you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black jeans, his typical arrogant smirk on his handsome, tattooed face.

You exhale slowly, lifting your head and straightening your shoulders, trying to will your embarrassment away as Sukuna stops in front of you.

Act cool, act cool, act cool!

"Hey, Ice Prince."

Sukuna's eyes sparkle in amusement, and he laughs that sexy low laugh and runs a tattooed hand through his pink hair as he cocks his head,

"Prince? I'd rather think I am the Ice King. But of course, I can be anything you want, princess."

Suddenly, he is so close to you again, towering over you, tall and big, and your back bumps against the wall behind you. Your heart is racing wildly as you look at Sukuna. At his lips precisely. Lips that lift in that sexy, rude smirk. Lips that you know feel so hot and soft against yours when they kiss you. Your breath hitches. And Sukuna laughs softly.

He leans down, his sexy cologne filling your nose, and his warm breath is on your neck when he whispers in your ear,

"Do I make you nervous?"

You grit your teeth and bring a hand up to push weakly against his broad chest, not really trying to push him away (not that you could move him an inch anyway), but in a helpless attempt to cover up your embarrassment. Why does he have to be like this? Why isn't he nervous, too? You shake your head, eyes burning into Sukuna's,

"No, of course not!"

But Sukuna huffs, leaning even closer, his voice full of smug amusement,

"Liar."

He smirks at you, his maroon eyes filled with a far too knowing look, when he adds in a teasing voice,

"Why do you act so flustered then? Like a scared little bunny. Is it maybe because you can't stop thinking about what we did in the locker room? How you bounced on my cock and how my cum was dripping down your hand and..."

You make a squeaking sound and reach up to press your hand over Sukuna's mouth to shut him up. And he laughs. You feel his lips move against your palm, feel his smirk, and then something warm and wet.

You jump, and your gaze snaps to Sukuna's eyes. He is staring right at you, a teasing, amused spark in his eyes while he is licking your palm.

There's another slow, teasing flick of his tongue, and much to your horror, it sends bolts of electricity and desire through you, making you press your thighs together involuntarily. But at least you finally come to your senses and quickly pull your hand away, wiping it on your jeans while you roll your eyes at Sukuna.

"Stop it!"

Sukuna grins broadly at you, his tattooed face still full of mischief, but at least he lowers his voice when he says,

"It's fine, princess. I enjoyed our little locker room fuck, too."

You restrain yourself from pressing your hand on his mouth again, and Sukuna adds smoothly,

"How about we make this a regular thing? It doesn't have to be exclusive to the locker room. We could also use a bed next time, or a shower, or anywhere else you like. You and I get along, and the sex is good, so why not have some fun together? It doesn't have to be a big deal. What do you say?"

You stare at him, your pulse racing and your head spinning at his offer, unable to form a response.

Sukuna smirks and touches your shoulder, letting his large hand trail down your arm until he reaches the pocket of your cardigan, where your phone is sitting. Sukuna pulls it out and holds it out to you,

"Unlock it."

You do as he says as if on autopilot and watch as Sukuna types in his number before handing the phone back to you. He takes a step away from you, slinging his backpack casually over one broad shoulder, and jerks his chin at you,

"Think about my offer, princess, and hit me up if you crave a little fun in your life."

He winks at you before he turns around and strolls away, leaving you standing there leaning bonelessly against the wall with your heart beating up to your throat and your mind whirling.

Did Sukuna just offer me a fuck-buddies arrangement?

This new development turns you into a distracted mess for the rest of the day. You get into trouble with your grumpy professor once again when you fail to reply to her question because your mind is too occupied thinking about Sukuna and what to do about this whole arrangement he is offering you.

You drop your books and forget your jacket and curse yourself for being such a flustered idiot just because some hot hockey boy blessed you with the best dick of your life and is asking for a repeat!

Get a grip!

But even when you are back in your dorm, you can't stop obsessing over this whole situation with Sukuna. You keep playing with your phone, unlocking it to stare at the new contact.

Sukuna 🏒👑

Your lips twitch when you see the hockey stick and crown emoji next to his name.

Your fingers hover over the message icon several times, but you always lock your screen again before you can write anything.

You throw your phone onto your bed with a heavy sigh. You are too flustered and too shy to text Sukuna and agree to whatever it is he is offering. But at the same time, there's this excited tingle in your veins that screams at you to text him and just enjoy that star player dick.

Isn't this the kind of exciting thing you dreamed about happening to you when coming to this college? And now you get it presented to you on a silver platter, but you are too chicken to take it?

You groan and bury your burning face in your hands. Maybe you can make a decision tomorrow. You need some time to think, or rather overthink.

You manage to avoid Sukuna the whole next day during classes, feeling like a complete fool with the way you sneak through the hallways, always checking if you see his pink hair somewhere. Your lunchtime is spent in your classic literature classroom, munching on some sandwich you hastily prepared this morning. Hiding away like a coward.

You feel relieved when your last class of the day is over. Now you just have to head to the library to get some research material for a new assignment, and then you can go back to the safety of your dorm, where you can lock yourself in your room and obsess in peace over a phone contact with a hockey stick and a crown.

You roll your eyes at yourself, and the librarian tells you to stop giving her such mean looks. Your eyes widen, and you hastily apologize, fleeing towards the section she told you the book you are looking for is.

The old floorboards creak beneath your feet, the smell of old books fills your nostrils, and you feel at least part of the familiar comfort the library always offers you. You scan the bookshelves, looking for the number the librarian gave you. And sigh in annoyance when you finally spot the title you were looking for.

Of course, it has to be on one of the higher shelves, and you can't see a ladder anywhere! You get on your tiptoes, bracing yourself on the shelf with one hand while you try to reach the book you want. You curse softly when your fingertips barely manage to graze the wooden shelf on which the book is standing.

And suddenly a familiar smug, low voice speaks up behind you,

"Need help, princess?"

You whip your head around, looking over your shoulder at the very person you have been avoiding all day. He has that typical, lazy smirk on his tattooed face, and there's an amused glint in his maroon eyes.

"Sukuna?"

You blink at him in surprise, and Sukuna's grin grows broader.

He steps closer, closing the distance between you so his body presses lightly against your back, making your heart race like crazy. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to run from him anymore with the way you are trapped between the bookshelf and Sukuna's tall, muscular body. You gulp hard, pulse fluttering at the feeling of Sukuna pressed against you and the enticing smell of his cologne and the cigarette smoke on his clothes filling your nose.

Sukuna reaches above your head, effortlessly plucking the book from the shelf.

He doesn't pull away immediately but stays right there, pressed lightly against you, his buff body caging you in while his warm breath brushes over your earlobe. His velvety voice has dropped to a low, seductive murmur that makes goosebumps appear on your arms,

"I haven't seen you all day. Where were you hiding, princess?"

You huff, trying to sound casual, but you cringe inwardly when you hear how breathy your voice comes out,

"What do you mean? I wasn't hiding."

Sukuna finally steps away, and you let out a breath and turn around to look at him. He is holding the book you need in his large hand, and you reach for it, but you see a shit-eating grin spread over Sukuna's face, and even as you reach out, you know it means trouble.

And, of course, right before you can grab the book, Sukuna lifts his arm above his head, letting your book dangle from his long tattooed fingers out of reach for you.

"Uh uh, not so fast."

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest,

"What are you doing? Give me the book!"

Sukuna laughs softly, smirking at you in that rude and sexy way that infuriates you and turns you on at the same time. He shakes his head and drawls in a low, amused voice,

"I'll give you your book if you promise to see me tonight. My dorm, 8 p.m. We can just talk if you want. Or we can do more than that. It's your choice, princess."

Heat throbs between your thighs as your mind provides you with an image of the two of you on Sukuna's bed, naked bodies moving rhythmically against each other. Your hands trailing over Sukuna's smooth tattooed skin, your fingers feeling up his buff muscles... You draw in a sharp breath and look up at him with big eyes and a face that feels way too hot.

"I..."

Sukuna laughs softly, his cat-like eyes gazing deeply into yours, completely shameless, far too arrogant, but damn, it drives you crazy in a very good way. One corner of his lips lifts in that sexy smirk, and he cocks his head,

"Is that a yes?"

It's not fair how charming and sexy he looks and how he is tempting you with a good time. The kind of good time you really want. The thought of meeting him again, knowing what it will lead to, still makes you flustered and feel like some shy little virgin, but you really like what he is offering you. And so you nod and mutter a soft,

"Y.. yes."

And Sukuna looks so pleased.

"Hmm, smart girl."

He leans down, his grin downright devilish now, and his breath brushes over your neck, making your skin tingle everywhere. And it gets even worse when Sukuna's tongue darts out and licks a slow, wet trail up your neck while you feel his rude smirk against your skin.

You screech and push at his broad chest,

"Hey! Don't drool on me!"

But you can't hide how playful and amused your voice sounds. You shake your head and laugh breathlessly as you look up at Sukuna's grinning face and he laughs and pulls away. He lowers his hand, holding the book out for you to take.

You quickly snatch it from his tattooed fingers. But Sukuna is fast. It must be his hockey-player-reflexes. He manages to grab your hand before you can pull away, holding onto it while his maroon eyes gaze deeply into yours.

"8 p.m. at my dorm. Don't keep me waiting, princess."

He doesn't wait for an answer but lets go of you, leaving you standing in the middle of the library with wobbly knees and wide eyes.

You are a nervous, excited, giggly mess when you make your way over campus and to Sukuna's dorm.

You feel embarrassed and exposed when you slip through the front door of the large dorm building, thinking that everyone who sees you must know exactly what you are up to. As if you are holding a blinking red sign that reads, "I am going to have sex with your star player."

But at the same time, your veins are singing with excitement. You feel almost high. You are meeting a super hot hockey player/the resident bad boy to get into a fuckbuddy arrangement with him or something like that! It's the kind of crazy thing you would have never thought you would ever get to experience.

You, who were always too scared, too anxious, too careful to experience anything exciting. But somehow, Sukuna made that whole cardhouse tumble down so easily, and suddenly, you feel so light, with your pulse racing and your whole body buzzing.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest when you reach the Itadori twins' apartment. You need a moment before you finally make up the courage to lift your hand and knock on the door. The seconds tick away, and your breath comes out in nervous, quick huffs as you wait for Sukuna to let you in.

Finally, the door swings open, and Sukuna stands in the doorway in low-hanging grey sweatpants, a black t-shirt, and that damn boyish smirk on his handsome face.

"Hey, my lucky charm."

He waves you inside, and you slip off your shoes and follow Sukuna into the apartment. It's bigger than the one you and Nobara share, which is probably a bonus the beloved hockey players get. The living area and open kitchen look clean but a bit chaotic, with hockey equipment, weights, and other gym stuff strewn everywhere. A red hoodie is hanging over the backrest of the couch, and various video games and manga are scattered all over the couch table next to several empty protein shake containers.

"Ignore the mess. I just came back from practice and didn't have time to clean. It's not my mess, by the way. My brother can't keep a clean room."

You smile to yourself, thinking that it's kind of cute that big bad hockey star Sukuna apologizes for how his living room looks. But before you can tease him about it, Sukuna already pushes open the door to his bedroom and ushers you inside.

It's surprisingly neat compared to the mess in the shared living area. The first thing you see is Sukuna's bed, which is actually made and suits him really well with the all-black bedding. On the left side of the room is a window and a desk with neatly stacked books. Above it is a shelf with trophies and next to that, a big pinboard with some hockey tactics written in Sukuna's elegant handwriting and a few pictures of Yuuji and Sukuna and an old man with a face shape that looks very similar to Sukuna's and Yuuji's, so you assume it must be their grandpa.

You look curiously around the rest of the room. A flag with the team crest is hanging on the wall behind the bed, and on the right side of the room, you can see a half-opened closet. The clothes you can spot in it are all black, with the exception of some white and red, which you assume must be Tigers merch.

A stack of cigarette packages and some energy drinks sit on a shelf next to a whole array of hair products (cherry flavored, like you already assumed), as well as several big bottles of cologne and a smaller bottle of black nail polish. You smile to yourself.

Vain idiot.

"So, did you think about my offer? About our little arrangement? You okay with it, princess?"

Sukuna's low voice interrupts your nosiness, and you whip around to look at him, feeling flustered again. You shrug and tug nervously on your fingers,

"What does it include exactly?"

Sukuna laughs and shrugs,

"Anything you want. We just have fun."

He has taken a step closer to you, and his low voice is smooth and velvety like a caress. You feel nervous, intimidated, and overwhelmed by the way your mind screams at you: You had sex with him! He was inside you. And you know you want it again. You are in his room. You just have to reach out and touch him!

A shaky laugh comes out of your mouth, but you nod and smile nervously at Sukuna,

"Okay, sounds good."

You gulp hard and lick your lips. They feel too dry suddenly as you look up at Sukuna's tattooed face, too aware of how small the room seems all of a sudden, and how good he smells, and how tall and strong he is. You add shyly,

"So... um, how do we go about this?"

You gesture helplessly at the bed and at Sukuna, suddenly ready to just run from his room and hide away forever. But Sukuna laughs softly and cocks his head, his face softer than usual, as if he feels bad for you.

He puts a hand on your waist.

"No need to be so nervous, princess. It's easy. Just come here, and I assure you, you will know what to do. It worked really fine the last time, don't you agree? Our chemistry is good."

He is right.

The moment Sukuna wraps an arm around you and pulls you against him, it's really easy.

Your hands automatically wrap around his neck, and you get on your tiptoes, pressing your body against Sukuna's, sighing when you feel his warm, firm body against yours. Your lips crash into his, kissing him hard as if to make up for your shyness a moment ago. And Sukuna kisses you back, his tongue licking hungrily into your mouth, both of you instantly overcome with the same craving you felt in the locker room.

Sukuna's large, warm hands are on your hips, steering you to his bed, while your lips trail from his mouth down his jaw, kissing his sexy tattoos before they close around his Adam's apple and suck on it, smiling when you hear the soft growl coming from Sukuna.

You tumble onto Sukuna's bed, and everything feels completely natural. As if you have never done anything other than make out with Sukuna. It's as easy as breathing.

Your hands slip so naturally under Sukuna's t-shirt and explore his abs and pecs before you tug on the soft cotton shirt, and Sukuna helps you pull it off.

It's the most natural thing ever to lift your arms above your head when Sukuna tells you to do so, letting him undress you too, pulling off your shirt, and then opening your bra expertly with one hand. He lets your bra drop to the floor before he replaces it with his large tattooed hands, cupping your tits and brushing his thumbs over your hardened nipples while his lips find yours in a sloppy, wet, open-mouthed tongue kiss.

From that moment on, the only thing you know are passionate, wet kisses and wandering hands, tearing at each other's clothes until you are both naked and writhing against each other on Sukuna's bed. You don't have to think. You just have to feel. And it's really as easy as he said. No shame, no worries, just pleasure.

Soon you are on all fours, your ass up, your face pressed into Sukuna's pillow, which smells so intoxicatingly like him. And you mewl loudly into that pillow because Sukuna dicks you down so good that you feel like you will melt.

He is kneeling behind you, one foot placed on the mattress, his large, strong hands on your hips as he takes you from behind, fucking you hard and fast and so deep. Dominant, in control, and knowing exactly how to fuck you right.

His strong hands hold your hips tightly, pulling you closer again anytime you try to get away when you think the pleasure becomes too much. But Sukuna won't have it and just holds you in place while his sexy, low voice tells you,

"Stay here, princess. I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good. Just be my good girl and let go. You can be as messy and loud in my bed as you want."

His words drag a loud, desperate cry from your lips as Sukuna's hips hump against your ass and your swollen pussy, fucking his thick cock deep into you, hitting your sweet spot in a maddeningly delicious rhythm.

You feel tears run down your cheeks from how good you are getting fucked, and you do as Sukuna says. You relax and let him take full control.

You are a babbling, sobbing mess, but it's just like Sukuna said, you know, here with him, you don't have to be embarrassed or shy. You eagerly lift your ass, pushing back against Sukuna's body, taking his thick cock deeper, begging him for more, whining loudly anytime his thick mushroom head hits your sweet spot.

And Sukuna laughs and moans, and it's so sexy that it makes your pussy clench around his gorgeous, talented cock, making him groan that sexy breathless "fuuuck" that drives you absolutely wild.

The way Sukuna fucks you with those deep, hard strokes makes you almost delirious. His gorgeous cock is giving you such a fluttery feeling in your stomach and in your pussy, growing more blissful every moment.

You let out a high-pitched squeal when you cum, muffling the noise by pressing your face deeper into Sukuna's pillow. And Sukuna fucks you through it, groaning in that sexy low voice,

"Fuck yeah, princess. Cum on my fucking cock!"

Your breath hitches, and you scream and kick your legs, cumming so hard and intense that you think you will lose your mind.

And Sukuna groans and grabs your wrists with his large rough hands, keeping them in place as he pushes you down on the bed with his heavy body, mounting you, fucking you into the mattress. He snaps his hips faster, fucking his twitching cock into you at a maddening pace that makes the headboard of the bed bang loudly against the wall.

You whimper needily at the feeling of Sukuna's heavy weight on top of you and the switch of position it brings with it. The earlier doggy turned into a deep, intense prone bone that makes Sukuna's cock push even deeper into your sensitive pussy.

One of Sukuna's large hands grabs your chin roughly, turning your head to the side so he can give you nasty deep tongue kisses while he fucks you with those deep, intense strokes that grow harder and become more erratic as he nears his orgasm.

You mewl under him when you hear him growl and feel him push his cock deep inside you. And then Sukuna stills his movements, cumming inside you, fucking his cum into the condom he put on this time.

His hand around your wrists squeezes them tightly. His breath is loud and harsh, and a low, sexy moan falls from his lips only centimeters from your lips before Sukuna kisses you again.

A breathless laugh escapes his lips, and you feel his smirk against your mouth as Sukuna starts to move again, slow, shallow thrusts, fucking his whole orgasm into you while you mewl softly beneath him and squeeze your pussy around him.

With a last, teasing flick of his tongue, Sukuna pulls away.

He rolls off you and lets his heavy body fall onto the mattress next to you, a broad, satisfied grin on his tattooed face and a low laugh falling from his lips.

One of his large hands lands on your naked ass giving it a squeeze, and then his tattooed fingers trail slowly up and down your thigh, caressing it as if you are a beloved pet he is pleased with.

You still feel dazed when Sukuna gets up after a moment, shamelessly walking around his room completely naked, throwing the condom into the trash bin before he bends down to pick up his black boxer briefs from his bedroom floor.

He pulls them up lazily with one tattooed hand as he walks over to his desk, making you lick your lips as you watch his gorgeous muscles flex while he moves. He grabs his cigarettes and a lighter from his desk and opens the window next to it, leaning casually against the window frame as he lights a cigarette and brings it to his lips, inhaling the smoke with a soft little hum.

Sukuna turns his head, looking at you with heavy-lidded maroon eyes and a lazy smirk.

"See, I told you it's easy."

And you laugh and roll on your side, pulling Sukuna's blanket over your naked body, feeling exhilarated and a bit dreamy after such amazing sex.

"Yeah, you were right."

Sukuna smirks, getting that smug expression on his tattooed face again.

"I know. I am always right."

He turns his face to blow his cigarette smoke out the window while you groan in playful annoyance.

You walk out of Sukuna's bedroom fifteen minutes later, after you both got dressed again, and Sukuna showed you the various medals and trophies on the small shelf above his desk and explained what he got them for. It felt less awkward than after your locker room fuck, though it still makes you a bit shy to just talk to him like you are friends after he was balls-deep in you and you cried into his pillow from how good he fucked you.

Sukuna is close behind you, bumping into you when you stop short as your gaze lands on Yuuji.

Sukuna's twin is lounging on the couch in the shared living area, his feet resting on the couch table while he watches TV. Yuuji turns his head to greet you and smiles his big sunshine smile at you, honey eyes wandering from you to his brother and back again.

And you smile back awkwardly, feeling your face get hot again,

"Hey, Yuuji."

How long has he been here? Did he hear you? Does he know what you did in Sukuna's room?

You quickly flee towards the door, but before you can leave, Yuuji laughs happily and says,

"So Kuna found you! He was complaining the whole day because he hadn't seen you. I'm glad you came over!"

You blink and look back over your shoulder just in time to see a protein bar getting thrown at Yuuji's head while Sukuna yells at his brother to shut the fuck up.

And you quickly slip out the door, grinning from ear to ear as you hear the twins bickering. Your steps feel incredibly light as you jog down the staircase, snickering to yourself the whole way to the front door.

I FELT THE FLUTTERY FEELING IN MY STOMACH AND MY PUSSY TOO 😭😭💗💗

Here we are in a fuckbuddies arrangement with our sexy hockey boy ;) Also, big applause to Yuuji for exposing his dear brother. I know you are obsessed with us, Kuna. It's ok, baby 😘

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

In Chapter 6, Reader and Sukuna have some more fun with each other + also some bonding moments.

Thank you so much for all the love on this story!! It makes me so happy 💗💗

[darnell-la]

I can't stop thinking about how Logan would be like "yeah those boys are not enough for you you need a man like me to take care of you" pleeeese do a story based on that <3 Love you guys works btw

note: Logan Howlett is an eater.

———

Logan had originally come to y/n’s apartment to drop off dinner. Wade had told him she hadn’t been eating proper food because of her study hours, so he cooked and packed it, ready to foul her up.

When he arrived, he heard noises from the young woman’s room. Two voice. Hers and someone else’s. A man’s. A boy.

He held himself together, understanding that she was young and experimenting. At least she better be. She shouldn’t be dating right now. He won’t allow it.

The man went to turn around and leave, maybe come back in an hour, but he heard a moan. Her moan. “Fuck no,” the man said, changing his mind about experimenting after he heard her with another man.

“Y/n!” The man knocked on the door hard, making the two jump in the bed. “Fuck, that’s Logan — M-My friend’s friend. My friend. J-Just get dressed,” y/n got up quick as well as the boy.

“Goddamnit,” he cussed, angry that he didn’t get to finish after touching y/n for the longest to get her wet. “Can you just like shoo him away or somethin? I’m fucking hard,” the boy said.

“I can’t, he’s like family. And he wouldn’t leave anyway,” she said, making the boy roll her eyes. “Get him outta here or I ain’t comin’ back,” the boy said, making her roll her eyes, but she was also horny now. She needed something.

Y/n cracked the door, hoping to talk with Logan for a quick second before sending him off, but he pushed open the door, causing Y/n to fall back.

“You ain’t comin’ back. Get the fuck out,” Logan snapped at the boy. His attitude was unacceptable. Even his appearance in her room was unacceptable.

“Dude, get out of here — We just got-“ Before he could say anything, Logan grabbed the boy by his collar and pulled him out of her room. “Don’t come back, or you’ll regret it,”

Logan shut the door and then turned to look at y/n who was embarrassed. “Logan, I-“ she went to say but he cut her off. “You what? Fuck boys during your study time?”

“What!? No, I- I mean — Logan, why are you here?” She asked, trying to switch the conversation which made him chuckle. “To give you dinner that you never have time to eat. Now I see why,”

Y/n felt bad. Now Logan knew she didn’t show up on Friday nights because she was fucking some random boy.

“You ditch family for a boy that can’t respect you? Let alone, properly make you wet!?” The man asked, shocking y/n. “H-He does make me wet,” y/n said, not knowing why she would tell Logan that. She just felt defensive.

“Oh, really? You know I can smell ya, Bub. Right?” Logan asked the young lady as he placed her dinner down on a desk before walking towards her. “And you’re already all dried up,”

“Logan that’s- That’s very inappropriate,” she said as she backed up, the back of her legs hitting her bed. “Is it? Then I must be a nasty son of a bitch, because I smell for you every time I’m around you,”

Y/n didn’t know how that got her on her bed, spread open for him, but she was, legs spread and cunt leaking as he stuffed his face in between her legs.

“So fuckin’ tasty. Gotta lick that son of a bitch off of you,” Logan groaned onto her heat as her hands tangled in his hair. “Oh god, Logan,” y/n threw her head back as her bud swole.

“Sweetest pussy that lives, baby. So fuckin’ good,” Logan couldn’t stop eating at her. He lifted a hand up and used two fingers to push at her entrance until he could curl in the right spot.

“F-Fuck,” y/n cried, making him lean back to watch her as he finger fucked her cunt. “You like that?” Logan asked as she nodded, head still leaned back and eyes closed.

“Yeah? Gonna start callin’ me instead of the boys?” He asked her, making her nod quickly. “Yeah, these boys aren’t enough for you. You need a man like me to take care of you,”

Y/n whined as she grinned at his fingers, chasing her orgasm. She was close, and he had just started. He was definitely better than any boy she’d been with. He was even better than herself.

“Give it to me, baby — Cum on my face — Need my face drenched,” the man looked into the girl's eyes and began to cross and roll back.

“C’mon, baby, give it to me — Give it to your man,” Logan kitty licked her bud to give her a better sensation that Wii jot sent her over the edge with a loud moan.

Logan latched his lips around her lips as he continued fingering her, humming into her cunt to get this amazing feeling in.

She tried to push the man off and close her legs, but he kept slapping her hands away and speeding her legs further with his free hand.

“G-God, Logan,” y/n cried out, feeling a bit embarrassed, and he felt it. He slightly loved the idea of her being shy from now on. The animal in him loved the look of a deer in headlights.

[papaya-twinks]

my little bookworm - l.n

Warnings: cuteness

Pairing: Lando Norris x uni!fem!reader

A/N - based off of @cheriiepies, you inspired this and this is for you x

Lando loved you. He really did. You were his perfect little angel of a girlfriend, sweet and nice and just everything he could ever want all bundled up into one adorable little person that he loved more than he loved anything. But sometimes he did find it a little saddening to watch the girl he was so in love with to have her nose buried into a book.

Not that he didn’t understand why. He knew what he was getting into, when he asked out the smartest (and prettiest) girl he’d ever met, he knew you’d have to continue with your studying. Benefits and not so good parts of dating a bookworm, anyways.

“Y/N,” Lando said, his voice very nearly close to being a whine as you finally tore your eyes from the book you were studying. “I’m finishing my studying, Lando,” you said to him with a little huff, annoyed he’d interrupted you.

“You’ve been studying for ages, though,” he said, “and you said you were ‘nearly done’ a whole hour ago,”. God, it was ten minuets ago. And here Lando was, performing his Grade A drama shit. Good on him, anyways? Back up career if F1 didn’t work out.

“You’re so needy,” you said, flicking him as you went back to jotting down your maths equations. “What the hell does that even say?” Lando asked, eyeing the questions with wide eyes. “It’s basically means-,” you started, only for Lando to cut you off.

Jeez, would he even let you get a word in? Christ. “No, no, you’ve lost me, I’m gone,” he said, and you could swear you saw his pupils dilate just the tiniest bit just staring down the equations on your textbook.

“I’d rather be dumber than dumb than know that,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. “If I finish this page,” you said, “will you stop having a go at me?”. Lando hummed for a second, almost as if he was contemplating it (though him and you both knew he’d definitely say yes anyways).

“Fine,” he said, moving to sit on the bed, kicking his sneakers off as he stared at you, eyes travelling down your body. “Stop staring,” you said with a huff as Lando shrugged. “I’m not staring,” he said, even having the audacity to continue staring as he said that. What a jerk. In an affectionate way.

“Finally,” he sighed, watching as you put the book down. Lando didn’t even hesitate, wrapping his arms round your torso and bringing you into his side, a giggle on your lips as he did so. “Took you ages, Y/N,” he huffed.

“Sass me again and I’m going back to reading,” you said, flicking him as if to say ‘cut the attitude!’. “Sorry,” he sighed, shaking his head, curls fluffing against your cheek as he did so. “You’re so gorgeous,” he mumbled, his eyes on your face, tracing the contour of your face, the way your eyes sparkled…wow.

“You’re handsome too, mister,” you said, a little smile on your face as he pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Love you,” Lando said, as you smiled to him, lips pressed to the edge of his own. “Love you too,” you said, the last word lost between Lando’s lips as he pressed to you.

“So gorgeous,” he mumbled, lips moving across yours, his tongue peeking out to dampen your lips as well as his own, pressing between your lips, diving into your mouth. The feeling was almost unrealistic, having Lando turn you slightly so he was above you.

“Love you,” he repeated, almost like a chant as his tongue explored your mouth, delving into every crook of your own perfect little mouth. “So pretty,” he gasped, his eyes squeezed closed as you wrapped your arms round his neck, his body to yours.

It was like a harmony, both of you pulling back simultaneously to reach for air, before reaching back to the other, desperate for contact. It was almost like a reward when you finished your work, ready for your countless exams in university.

That was the price to pay for being gifted with such impressive brains. And you knew, at the end of the day, Lando always had your back, whether you failed them or not, he'd be there for you, to hold you and hug you through the night, kiss your pretty lips, wipe your tears away.

But you'd never fail anyways.

[requiemforthepoets]

this is me trying 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: growing up, the only thing you know is that you need to be strong, provide, and take care of your sister. but being with oscar, it was different, he made you feel things—that it’s okay to not be fine, vulnerable, and to be taken care of.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have this fic finished the other day but i was debating on whether to post it or not, but here we are. it’s been a while too since i last wrote for oscar, and this is like a comfort (?) fic idk lol. also, can i just say that LANDO ON POLE FOR THE SG GP!!! 😭🧡 ok, i hope you guys will have fun reading this one. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, eldest daughter syndrome, no use of y/n, cursing, unnamed sister, named friend, and parents death

You were sitting in the living room, surrounded by case files and legal books, trying your best to prepare for the court trial that you’ll be doing soon, but your mind was elsewhere. You can't focus on the work that you’re working on in front of you, no matter how hard you try. Your phone buzzed, and you almost didn’t answer, thinking it’s just another work call, but when you saw Blaire, your friend’s name, flash on the screen you quickly picked up, expecting a casual chat.

“Hey, Blaire, how are you?” You greeted her, trying to mask your exhaustion.

Her voice on the other end was hesitant, not the usual warm tone that you’re used to. “Hey…I really hate to bring this up, but I was wondering when you would be able to repay the five thousand dollars?”

Your stomach dropped. “Repay?” You repeated, utterly confused. “What do you mean five thousand dollars?”

The conversation between you and Blaire unraveled quickly. She explained how she had lent the money to your sister out of need, thinking it was for you or with your approval. Rage bubbled in your chest, your pulse quickened, at this point all you can see is red. You thanked her hastily, barely able to end the call before fury overtook you. Without thinking, you dialed your sister’s number, the beeps echoing in your ear like a countdown to an explosion.

“Hello?” Her voice was casual, completely unaware of the storm coming her way.

“What the actual fuck did you do?!” You yelled, not caring if it was late at night. “You borrowed five fucking thousand dollars from Blaire without asking me!? How could you?!”

There was a pause, a brief moment where you could almost feel her shrug through the phone. “Oh my god, can you relax? It’s not like you can't afford it. It’s not that big of a deal, you can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making, it’s barely a scratch on your bank account!” You couldn’t believe what you were actually hearing.

“Not a big deal? Did you spend the money already? Do you have any fucking idea how humiliating it is for me that you did this without even consulting me? You think just because I make good money, I’ll fix every mess you create?” You were seething.

“Well, yeah,” she responded with a laugh, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation. “You’re my older sister. Isn’t it your job to take care of me, right?”

Your grip on your phone tightened. “I’ve been taking care of you your whole life! I’m working myself to the bone just to make sure you have everything you need, sending you to that fancy school that you’ve always wanted so you can have a better future, and this is how you repay me? By lying and stealing?”

The silence on the other end of the line felt heavy, but your anger has not subsided. She mumbled something that sounded like a half assed apology, but it was already too late for that. You immediately hung up and slammed the phone down on the table, heart racing, pulse pounding in your ears. Anger still swirling inside you like a storm, the words of your sister still echoing in your mind. You can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making. Her carelessness, lack of respect—it hit harder than anything you had experienced before. It wasn’t about the money, you could handle the five thousand dollars easily, but the way she completely dismissed your hard work, as if it was nothing, as if your sacrifice and years of struggle meant nothing—that was what burned deep. It hurts like fucking hell.

You sat down there on the couch, trying to calm yourself down, tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You didn’t cry. You cannot cry. You have always been strong your whole life—the provider, carer, and protector. That’s who you were. No one had ever taken care of you, not since your parents passed away when you were fifteen and your sister is only ten. It has always been you, alone, against the world, and now, it felt like even your sister was against you.

You didn’t hear Oscar enter the living room until his voice, soft but firm, broke through the silence. “Hey, I heard you from our room. Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, your body automatically stiffening instinctively and continued browsing through your documents like nothing happened.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” you lied, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

Oscar walked over and sat down beside you on the couch, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. “You don’t always have to be fine,” he said quietly. “Tell me, what happened?”

You exhaled sharply, your hands trembling as you ran them through your hair. “It’s my sister,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “She borrowed money from Blaire. Five thousand dollars. Without even telling me. Now, she’s acting like it’s my job to fix it.”

“Five thousand? That’s a lot.” Oscar frowned, his brows knitting in concern.

“I know,” you said, “she doesn’t even care. She just assumes I’ll take care of it, like I always do every time she gets into stupid situations. She thinks just because I earn good money, I’m supposed to fix everything.” Your voice cracked, and before you could stop it, the tears you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Oscar. I’m always the one fixing things, I’m always the one who has to be strong.”

Oscar didn’t say anything for a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes filled with understanding. Then, without a word, he pulled you into his arms. You tensed at first, still not used to being vulnerable, but Oscar’s embrace was warm, grounding. Slowly, your body relaxed into his, and the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little as you rested your head against his chest.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered to him. “I’ve always had to be the strong one. I’m tired, Oscar. I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His hand gently stroked your back, his voice soft and reassuring. “I know. It’s okay to be tired. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his face, “I just don’t know how to let anyone help me,” you admitted, voice barely audible. “I’ve been doing this for so long, I don’t know how to not be the one in control.”

“I get that. But you don’t have to do it all alone anymore. I’m here. Let me be strong for you, too.” Oscar smiled gently, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The idea of letting someone else carry even a fraction of the weight feels completely foreign to you. But as you looked at Oscar, his eyes full of sincerity, something inside you shifted. Maybe, it’s time you let it all fall down, you didn’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time.

“What am I supposed to do about her?” You asked, your voice small but steady now.

Oscar sighed softly, thinking for a moment. “You have all the right to be angry and upset. Your feelings are valid,” he said. “She needs to learn that actions have consequences. But at the same time, she’s your sister. She’s young, and sometimes young people tend to make mistakes. You’ve been doing everything for so long that she probably hasn’t learned how to take responsibility for herself yet.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Yeah, maybe. But I can’t just let her think she can keep doing this.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you also don’t have to do this alone. We can figure it out together.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone. Maybe you didn’t always have to be the strong one, the provider, the protector. With Oscar by your side, you could learn how to let someone else carry the weight with you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into him once more. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oscar smiled, pressing a soft tender kiss to your forehead. “You’ll never have to find out, I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

The next morning, you stared at the screen of your laptop, fingers moving quickly over the keys as you finished drafting the contract. The legal jargon was familiar, comforting even, but the fact that you had to use it against your own sister left a bitter taste in your mouth. The contract was firm, direct, and laid out the consequences clearly: five thousand dollars, to be repaid in installments, with interest and penalties if the deadline is missed. You hated doing it—your heart never felt so heavy—but you knew it was necessary. You had been too lenient for far too long, if she didn’t learn this now, she might never understand the true value of money and the responsibility that came with it. It was time for her to learn the hard truths you had known your entire life.

Oscar was sitting across the table, sipping his coffee, watching you in silence. “You’ve finished it?” He asked gently. You had told him last night that you need to straighten everything out, and told him your plan, in which he quickly supported you.

You nodded, eyes scanning the contract one last time before saving it. “Yeah. She’s not going to like it, but this has to be done.” You sighed, “I’ve been too lenient, too forgiving. I can’t keep cleaning up after her messes.”

“You’re doing the right thing.” He said as he reached over, placing his hand over yours. “It’s tough, but you’re teaching her a lesson she won’t forget.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, glancing out the window, the weight of responsibility pressing down on you once more. “I’ve never been one to ask for anything back, but she needs to learn that she can’t just treat me like this. I want her to be successful, but she can’t rely on me forever.”

Later that day, you booked a flight for her to Monaco, and notified her about the flight schedule. She was studying in Switzerland, and it would be a four hour flight from Switzerland to Monaco. It was time to have this conversation face-to-face. You couldn’t keep allowing her to avoid responsibility just because you were miles apart. This is a conversation that is long overdue.

A couple of days later, she arrived at your and Oscar’s shared apartment. She seemed different—more subdued, perhaps. You could tell the weight of your anger still lingered in her mind. She greeted you cautiously, her eyes flickering to Oscar, who stood nearby, his presence calm but protective.

“Sit down,” you said, pointing to the couch.

She looked at you, clearly trying to gauge your mood, but she did as she was told. You sat across from her, with Oscar by your side, and the freshly printed contract lying on the table between you. The tension in the living room was thick.

“I had already settled your debt with Blaire,” you began, your voice calm but firm. “But this conversation is not just about the money. It’s about respect, about responsibility.”

“I said I was sorry.” She crossed her arms, trying to play it cool.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” you snapped, your patience was already running thin, barely hanging on by a thread. “I have been providing for you because I want nothing but the best for you. But what you did was careless, and you disrespected everything I’ve done for you. You didn’t even ask me before borrowing that money, and then you just blatantly assumed I would handle it. You do this every time to me, you always get me into awkward and humiliating situations.”

She bit her lip, her attitude wavering. “I know, but you make so much—”

“That’s not the point!” You cut her off, about to lose your cool but Oscar had managed to calm you down by softly caressing your back. “Yes, I make good amount of money, but that money just doesn’t magically appear. I have worked hard, harder than you can imagine, to get to where I am. Do you want to know what’s worse? What’s worse is that you’re not even thinking about how hard it is to earn that money, how I burn myself off everyday. So I’m making you earn it back.” You slid the contract towards her.

“What’s this?” She looked down at it, then back at you, looking all confused.

“It’s an agreement,” you said. “I’ve decided to give you the five thousand dollars. Consider what you bought from that money as a gift, because I know you’ve been doing well in school, and it’s been a while since I’ve given you anything. But this will never happen again. You owe me that money, and you're going to pay it back. Every cent of it, with interest.” Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off before she could even speak.

“This is not negotiable. I’m still going to support you, I’m still going to pay for your tuition, but you need to learn how hard it is to earn this kind of money. You’re going to work for it, and I'll expect proof—payslips, records—everything. If you miss a payment, there will be penalties added, and if you refuse or try to make a fool out of me, I’m not afraid to take legal action.”

“You’d sue me? Your own sister?” She stared at you in disbelief.

“Yes, I would,” you said coldly. “I don’t want to, but you’ve left me with no choice. You are already eighteen and will turn nineteen in two months, you are already capable of knowing what’s right and wrong. You need to understand that I’m not going to bail you out every time you mess up, this is your responsibility now.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Her face was a mix of shock and anger, but you could tell the gravity of the situation was already starting to sink in.

“I’m not trying to be harsh,” you said softly, leaning forward. “But I’ve been in your shoes, and I know firsthand how hard life can be. I have shielded you from that, and maybe that was my mistake. But if you’re going to succeed in this world, you need to understand that nothing is free, nothing in life is free. Everything comes with a cost.”

Oscar then leaned forward, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’re not doing this to hurt you,” he added, tone gentle but firm. “But this is a wake-up call. You need to understand how your sister has worked so hard, and how important it is that you start contributing. No one’s saying you have to do it alone, but you have to start doing something.”

Your sister’s eyes shifted between the two of you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of guilt in her expression. She glanced back down at the contract, and you handed her a pen.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it. I’ll pay you back.” Her attitude and defiance slowly faded from her face.

“Good.” You nodded, “then sign it.”

She hesitated for only a moment before scribbling her signature across the bottom of the contract. You felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness, knowing you had to be this tough, but also hoping it would be the turning point she needed.

“You can stay with us while you’re in Monaco,” you told her, “but I expect you to find a job as soon as possible. If you fail to keep up with your end of the deal, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Understood.” She nodded, though her expression was still a mix of resentment and defeat.

You exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. This wasn’t easy, and you hated having to be this strict with her, but it had to be done. Oscar wrapped his arm around you, his touch grounding as soon as you watched your sister head towards the guest room.

“You did the right thing,” he said quietly.

“I hope so,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I just want her to grow up.”

“Don’t worry, she will.” Oscar assured you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “With you as her sister, she doesn’t have much of a choice,”

Later that evening, the apartment finally fell quiet, dinner was definitely awkward and quiet, but with your sister already tucked away in the guest room, the weight of everything you had said and done began to settle in. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, heart heavy and mind replaying what had happened earlier over and over. The way your sister had looked at you—hurt and angry—it cut deeper that you were willing to admit.

You had always been strong, but this strength had come with a cost. Now, sitting in the stillness of the night, the reality of your actions hit you like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just the contract or the money, it was the fear—the fear that in trying to teach her a lesson, you might have pushed her too far. That in being the disciplinarian, you had damaged something that might never fully recover or heal.

Oscar entered the room quietly, sensing the shift in your mood. He sat beside you, his presence had always been comforting, but it wasn’t enough to stop the flood of emotions you had been holding back.

“Was I too harsh, Osc?” You whispered, voice barely audible.

He frowned slightly, tilting his head to look at you. “No, you weren’t. She needed to hear all of it.”

“I know,” you replied, voice trembling. “But what if I lose her because of this? What if she hates me for it?”

You felt your tears welling up again, but this time you couldn’t stop them anymore. They spilled down your cheeks, unchecked, as you finally let go of the tension and frustration you had been carrying.

“I’m not being harsh to punish her, I just want her to understand how hard life is, how much I’ve sacrificed. But what if all she sees is me being cruel?”

Oscar pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you broke down. You rested your head on his chest, sobs coming in waves, guilt and fear crashing over you. You had always been strong for so long—too long—and now, it felt like everything was unraveling.

“She’s my baby sister,” you choked out between sobs. “I don’t want to lose her. But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want her to think I’m just some heartless person who only cares about money.”

Oscad held you tighter, his voice calm and steady as he spoke. “She won’t hate you. Not forever. She’s upset now, sure. But she’s young, and right now, she probably doesn’t understand why you’re doing this. But she will, trust me. One day, she’ll look back at it and realize that you did this because you love her.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening with the weight of your emotions. “I feel like I’m always the one who has to be the bad guy. I never get to be the one who’s just there for her, to support her without judgment.”

Oscar stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “You’ve done more for her than anyone else ever could. You’ve given her everything. You’re not the bad guy, you’re her protector, even when it means being tough on her. Yeah, maybe this will cause a rift for now, but it won’t last. She’ll come around, she’ll see that you’re doing this because you care.”

You pulled away slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Oscar said firmly. “But even if it takes time, you can’t keep beating yourself up for doing what’s right. You’re teaching her a lesson that no one else will. You’re giving her the tools to grow up, to be responsible. Sometimes, that means being tough. That’s tough love.”

You nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at you. “I just wish I didn’t have to be this person all the time. The one who fixes things, who keeps everyone in line.”

“I know. But you’re not doing this alone anymore, okay? I’m here. Whenever it feels like it’s too much, rest on me. You can always rest on me.”

You leaned into him again, his warmth easing the ache that you’re feeling inside of you. “I just hope she understands someday,” you whispered.

“She will,” Oscar said softly, kissing the top of your head. “And until then, you’ve done what you needed to do. You’ve set her on the right path, and that’s what matters.”

As the tears slowly subsided, you felt a flicker of hope, knowing that even though this was hard, it was necessary. Even if your sister doesn't see it now, you could only hope that one day, she would understand that everything you did was out of love.

The weight on your shoulders became a little lighter, knowing that Oscar was right. Even if it took time, even if there were still battles to fight, you knew you weren’t facing them alone anymore, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe. You had done what needed to be done. Now it was up to your sister to follow through.

[thinkinonsense]

i just listened to sabrina's new album and oh my god the song slim pickins is such a song that was written from daydreaming about lumberjack!logan, oh and the recent fic that you reblogged was just so yummy and perfect for that song especially the lyrics "a boy who's jacked and nice" like god having to settle down for less because nobody can be him 😭😭😭 need him expeditiously im afraid

it's slim pickins

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: yearning!! fluff, tiny nsfw conversation (nothing graphic)

a/n: this request couldn't have come in at a better time because i'm seeing sabrina on opening night of her tour tomorrow night!! <3

masterlist

"am i just destined to be alone forever?"

another friday night in the hole in the wall bar outside of town. another date gone horribly wrong. your question hangs heavy in the air as you gossip to your best friend who's bartending tonight.

"you keep picking douche bags." she answers without missing a beat.

"well, that's fuckin' rude." you slur slightly, sipping on your third fruity drink tonight.

"well, it's fuckin' true." she smiles, looking over your shoulder at a group of men that walked in. "why don't you go talk to one of them? they look hot."

you spin around in your stool to see a group of lumberjack workers. these were the men that you worked with, you can't flirt with them.

"i work with those guys!" you hiss.

"sooo...?" she smirks.

both of you quickly end the conversation with the five guys approach the bar. the last thing you needed was for these guys to see the desperate and pathetic look on your face. quickly, you rummage through your purse for some cash to put down.

"what are you doing here, doll face?" a familiar voice asks.

you look up and see the most handsome of the men, in front of you; logan. twice your size, buff, toned, tan... god, you had such a crush on him. never in a million years would you go after him though, he's too good to want a girl like you. you were just a friend. he make small talk with you, laughed at your jokes, calls you little nicknames, and refills the coffee pot for you but thats what friends do, right?

"oh... um, i'm just-"

"she's been sitting here moaning and bitching to me all night about her horrible date." your best friend smiles then introduces herself to logan with a handshake.

"thanks asshole." you mumble under your breath at her, making logan chuckle.

"tough night?" he asks, looking down at you in a way that makes heat rises up your face.

"kinda, but i'll save you all the gory details." you admit, sliding off the tall stool a little ungracefully. "have a good night, logan."

"wait, doll face." he says, grabbing your arm to balance you. "wanna talk about it? i'm sure your friend here is busy."

the alcohol let him take you to one of the booths. all the other men noticed logan and you sitting together, definitely making mental notes to tease you both on monday.

"so, what's on your mind?" logan asks, taking a swig of his beer.

"it's nothing really..." your mouth says one thing but your phone says another; practically buzzing off the table.

"you sure?" he raises a brow.

"uh... yeah?" you sound confused as you peak at the notification. an annoyed groan falls from your lips as you slam the phone back down and sink into the booth. "why? why? why?"

"why what?" he squints.

"be honest, do i have dumbass written on my forehead?" you sigh, hazily looking over at logan. the question threw him off guard; unsure if you're joking or not.

"no." he answers.

" well, i sure feel like one. every guy i've gone out with is either the most obnoxious asshole i've ever met who's still hung up on his ex or he's absolutely perfect but he's just not ready for a commitment right now? what the fuck does that even mean?"

all of your drunk rambling surprised logan. at work, he's only seen your shy personality as you scribble down numbers and log them into spreadsheets. this was a completely different side of you.

"i know what you're thinking, 'why not just try dating a woman?'. well, i fucking would if this town wasn't stuck in the 50's, except the men aren't going to war in order to get away from you, instead they just run back in between their ex's thighs and pull that 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit."

it was getting harder for logan not to crack at your silly yet, adorable expressions as you rant.

"and the worst part is that they can't even get a woman to orgasm." you say a little quieter. logan stores that quote in his pocket for another time. "a few weeks ago, i literally had a man in my bed who didn't know the difference between their, there, and they're! i don't know who's stupider, him for not knowing or me for letting him give me the worst head in my life."

if you were even a little sober, this would be mortifying. sitting in front of your work crush and spilling pathetic details of your love life to him. if you were even a little sober, you would have notice his eyes turn dark and lustful under the dim bar lighting. logan couldn’t fathom that you were having trouble in your love life.

"sounds like it's slim pickins out there."

"you have no idea." you sigh.

"if it makes you feel any better, i don't think that you're stupid."

"you're just saying that to be polite. trust me, everyone thinks i'm an idiot for taking these guys back every time. im just like my mom, my sisters, my friends, and every other girl i know. we make up excuses for their shitty behavior because we are afraid to be alone."

logan could see tears forming in your waterline, about to roll down your cheek. it hurt him to see you so heartbroken over these losers. everyday at work, you came in like a ray of fucking sunshine. you didn't deserve to be treated like this.

"it's not your fault that those asshole don't know how to treat a woman." he sighs, leaning forward in an attempt to comfort you.

"i know, i know..." your voice was cracking and you didn't want logan to see you so vulnerable. suddenly, you rise from the booth. "thanks for listening, logan."

"where do you think you're going, doll face?" he asks, following you out the door.

"should head home." you mumble, pulling up the number of a car service about twenty minutes out.

"let me give you a ride home." he offers. "you've been drinking too much."

it's late, you're exhausted and heartbroken so, you let him help you into his truck. it's kinda old but full of character, like logan.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" logan asks, breaking the silence in the car. "still sad?"

you shrug. "think i'm just going to become a nun."

he tried, he really did, but he had to laugh.

"sweetheart, there's no need to become a nun."

"well, i'm never going to find the man i'm looking for so, might as well join the sisterhood."

"what are you looking for in this dream man?"

logan's question has your eyes wondering over to where his left hand sets on the wheel and his right on thigh. the images of what his hands could do flood your fuzzy mind.

"j-just a good guy who's um, who's kind, jacked... respectful, good with his hands...."

it was shameless, your staring that is. logan worried you might get drool on the car seat, not that he would mind.

"hm... those seem like simple requirements there."

"apparently not." you giggle. "it's fine, though. i'm sure the nuns will be friendly."

"still thinking about joining the 'sisterhood'?" he asks, pulling up to your drive way.

"maybe... i'll give it twenty-four hours and if he doesn't come knocking on my door, i'll just buy a chasity belt and go off the grid with the nuns." your smile warmed his cold bitter heart. "thanks for the ride, lo. i'll see you monday."

as logan watches you fumble with your keys and make your way inside, he fights an internal battle over his feelings. he has had a crush on you since the day the two of you first met. by the end of the week, you had baked him some cupcakes, babbling about how you do this for all the new employees, which was far from the truth he later learned.

you captured his heart. even when he tried to burry his feelings for you, when logan looked at you, his world stood still for a moment. he looked forward to all your silly jokes in the break room or the ridiculous gossip you would tell him when he lingered outside of your office door. he couldn't let you slip away into the arms of another asshole who didn't deserve you.

before logan could comprehend what he was doing, his feet lead him up to your door, knocking twice. the wooden door opened and he knew he made the right decision.

there you were in your light blue and grey plaid pajamas with a cupcake in your hand and vanilla frosting on your bottom lip. logan had never seen you look prettier.

"hey? did i leave something in the–"

in the blink of an eye, logan’s hands reach up to caress your jaw, leaning in until his mouth engulfs yours. the taste of vanilla and alcohol surrounded both of you. forgetting the cupcake in your hand, dropping it to reach up and pull logan closer. kissing him was like drinking a glass of wine after a long day. no more stress or anxiety over anyone else’s bullshit. the two of you gasp against each others lips, catching your breath.

“i could be the good guy, you know?” logan pants, now forever addicted to your taste. “i could be the good guy for you.”

your heart fluttered as you stared up at his pretty hazel eyes, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger. this had to be a very realistic dream, thats the only answer to this.

“you would do that for me, logan?” your delicate voice could bring him to his knees, worshiping the ground you walk on.

“i would do anything for you, honey.” he whispers, leaning back in to kiss you again. maybe your dream guy wasn't as far away as you thought?

[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: sexual themes !! but eek another cliffhanger i fear yall are gonna eat me alive

one | two | three | four | five | six

authors note: i havent slept and its 8am because ive been writing this for U GUYS 😞 let me know if u would like to be part of the tag list tho thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

drew jolts awake, his heart racing from whatever dream he’s already forgotten. he blinks against the early light streaming through the curtains, his eyes squinting as he scans the room. instinctively, his hand reaches for your side of the bed, but it’s empty.

“y/n?” he murmurs, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. his brain tries to catch up to his surroundings, still sluggish from sleep.

just as he’s about to throw the covers off and go looking for you, the door creaks open. there you are, balancing a tray in your hands with a small but proud grin on your face. his lips curl into an instant smile at the sight of you, and it’s relief that washes over him.

“good morning,” you draw out playfully, your voice teasing as you approach the bed. drew watches, amusement in his eyes.

“what’s all this?” he asks, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes but already intrigued by the spread.

you gesture to the tray proudly, listing off the items you’ve prepared. “made us both some eggs, bacon, toast . . . oh, and fresh fruit,” you say, pointing at the colorful array of berries on the side. “figured i’d bring it to you since you were still sleeping.”

he chuckles, sitting up properly and glancing over at the tray with a grin. “so did the others get the same royal treatment?” he jokes, looking up at you with raised eyebrows.

“obviously.” you nod, a smile tugging at your lips. “the girls and i were up early making breakfast for everyone. the guys are already up and eating, but i thought I’d bring yours here. you know, special delivery.”

he shakes his head, still smiling as he takes it all in. “so, breakfast in bed? don’t mind if i do.”

“shut up,” you say as you crawl onto the bed carefully, setting the tray between you both.

as you settle beside him, drew is already popping a blueberry into his mouth. he chews thoughtfully, an amused look crossing his face. “you know,” he says, pausing to finish his bite before continuing, “you never did stuff like this when we were together.”

you glance at him, casual as ever. “we were always too busy,” you reply nonchalantly, reaching for a piece of bacon. “i don’t think we ever really had time to eat breakfast together in the mornings, or whatever.”

it’s such an offhanded comment, one you barely think twice about, but drew does. his fork hovers mid-air as your words sink in. he realizes how right you are—there was always something else, always a rush to be somewhere or do something. sure, you spent time together, but not like this. not with simple, meaningful moments that could’ve mattered.

his thoughts flicker back to the night before, to the messages he saw on his phone. that nagging feeling from last night returns, tugging at him. he quickly glances over to the nightstand, his head whipping around so fast that it draws your attention immediately.

you laugh, startled by his sudden movement. “dude, are you alright?” there’s amusement in your voice, but you look at him with mild concern.

he blinks, pulling himself together, and his heart beats a little faster. “yeah, yeah, i’m fine,” he replies quickly, trying to shake off the tension that suddenly crept in. he flashes a quick smile, picking up his fork again and taking another bite. “just thought i, like . . . misplaced my phone or something.”

you raise a brow at him but let it slide, not thinking much of it as you continue eating.

drew takes a bite of the eggs, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets out an involuntary moan. his hand flies to his mouth, covering it as he starts to laugh, almost embarrassed by how dramatic his reaction is. “oh my god . . .” he mumbles, shaking his head like he can’t believe it.

you look over at him, confused but amused by his reaction. “what?” you ask, smiling, not quite getting what’s so funny.

he finishes chewing, still grinning, and gestures at the eggs with his fork. “these. i know it has to be you who made the eggs.”

you raise an eyebrow, genuinely puzzled. “what do you mean?”

“there’s just something about the way you make them,” he explains, his voice sincere. “i don’t know what it is, but it’s like i could pick your eggs out of a million different versions. they’re always so . . . perfect. they melt in my mouth every time.”

you laugh, slightly bashful but clearly appreciating the compliment. “whatever,” you say, though you’re smiling. “they’re just eggs.”

he shakes his head, still smiling back at you. “no you’ve got, like, the magic touch or something.”

curious now, you take a bite of your own eggs, chewing thoughtfully before pausing. you look over at him, nodding slowly in agreement.“you’re right. these are good.”

drew laughs at your half-joking realization, and you can’t help but join in. the moment feels light and easy, like a glimpse of what things used to be, even if it’s just for a second. “told you,” he teases, leaning into you as he takes another bite.

you grin, leaning back into him. “okay, fine, maybe i do have a magic touch.”

the laughter fades, leaving a comfortable silence as you take another bite of your breakfast. it’s easy, almost natural, how quickly you fall into this rhythm—like no time has passed. drew shifts beside you, the subtle change in his posture drawing your attention.

he clears his throat, looking over at you. “thanks . . . by the way,” he says, and you look at him as he gestures to the food. “for breakfast. this is really nice.”

you give him a small smile, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “just don’t get too used to it.”

you’re laughing and singing songs with the girls as you make your way down to the beach. you’re only really carrying your towel with you as you skip down to an open spot. libby’s protecting her large floppy hat as she runs there with you, shouting that you all should make camp here.

you look behind you and wait for the others. you spot drew immediately as he carries the bluetooth speaker in one hand but on his opposite shoulder is the large tote bag you gave him earlier. he posed for you when you said he looked like a mother.

“hurry, hurry, hurry!” you say, mainly to drew, because he has the groups shared essentials. “i can literally feel my skin aging the longer you guys take.”

roman trudges through the sand, clearly not enjoying the trek, even though it’s better than if they didn’t stay at a beach house like they are now. “you know, if you’re so concerned about your skin aging, maybe you should’ve thought about that before today,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

gia grimaces at how stupid he is. “or maybe you should’ve thought about showering before leaving the house, babe,” she says, then continues walking over until she reaches you and libby.

roman stops in his tracks, feigning offense. “i’m literally holding your second bag to the beach. like who even does that?” he gestures dramatically to the extra tote slung over his shoulder.

theo comes up from behind and pats his shoulder to say that it’s okay as he passes by, so roman mumbles something under his breath as he continues.

eventually, you’re stripping down to your bikini as you watch the waves. you unbutton your shorts and pull them down, shimmying out of them before tossing them onto your towel that’s already been laid out.

you pull your hair away from your face as you look toward the group. “is anyone going in the water?” you ask them, but there’s several no’s and not yet’s that make you frown.

“i’ll go in later maybe,” theo volunteers for you. “i just came down here to bring the chairs and set my towel down but i still need to cook the hotdogs in the backyard.” he’s pointing behind him, and you groan.

“so boring,” you mumble as theo nudges oscar before they start heading back to the house to begin making late lunch already.

“y/n?” gia says as she plans on handing you the sunscreen next. she and roman have already had a turn as they share their towel together. roman looks as grumpy as ever as he rubs the sunscreen into his skin while gia sits pretty and tries to keep her hair out of her face.

you drop to your knees on your towel and shuffle forward to reach for the bottle that gia hands you, and you plant your butt back down on your towel.

drew finishes setting up the speaker for leila to play her music, and he glances over just in time to see you about to apply sunscreen. he hesitates for a moment, then clears his throat, “you want some help?”

you look up, a bit surprised but also amused. “are you volunteering?”

“maybe,” he replies, “just thought i’d help out.”

you bite your lip, considering it. “okay, but just my back, please.” you’ve already squeezed some sunscreen into your hand so you decide to spread it on your legs while he gets to work on your torso.

he steps onto your towel and crouches down behind you. as his hands glide over your skin, you can’t help but sigh in relief. “you’re kinda really good at this. i feel like i’m at a spa.”

drew grins, glancing at you. “guess i’ve picked up a few tricks over the years.”

there’s a moment of playful silence as you finish your legs, and he begins massaging the sunscreen into your shoulders. you tilt your head back a little, relishing in the feeling.

it almost feels nice to recognize the familiar hands across your skin. he’s dipping down toward your chest as he settles down to get closer, reaching around you. you make it easier by leaning back against his chest while watching his hands, making sure he’s not doing anything he shouldn’t be.

but it’s like you’re in a daze as you witness the way he rubs it into your chest, around your bikini top, and down to your waist. he knows your body well enough to know that he’ll cause goosebumps immediately, and he does.

a part of you feels guilty, like it’s almost wrong—but it is all for the plan, right? you make up the excuse for yourself as drew’s hands move back up, edging the bottom of your breasts as your breath hitches. you hear his breathing by your ear as you watch him be so careful, so cautious with where he touches you.

but before it goes any further, he pulls away, and honestly, you think it's a smart choice. you swallow down whatever you just felt as you pull yourself together, and you glance behind you as he gets up. “thanks, star,” you murmur, and you hear a faint ‘uh-huh’ as he sits back to do his own.

you make sure he’s rubbed everything in briefly before turning back to see what he’s doing. he’s already spreading sunscreen onto his arms when he catches your eye, and there’s a smile when he understands the situation.

he nods to the bottle that’s just laying on the towel, and you know what this means. that it’s alright if you want to help him too.

you take the bottle into your own hands and squeeze some out onto your palm, then crawl behind him to sit down. you work on his back for a while, and you can’t help but admire him while he can’t see you.

you notice everything. the way his back muscles flex, how he flinches the moment your hands touch him, but also the way he relaxes into your touch the second after.

he’s waiting patiently for you, and you hear him chuckle a bit after you finish, so you crawl on all fours to sit down in front of him. you give him a look, asking if he’s already done it yet, but he shakes his head.

you smile to yourself as more sunscreen lands in your palm, and you massage it into his shoulders first. he sits up straight for you as you slowly make your way down.

you can’t tell if he’s flexing his abs as a joke but you look up at him and make eye contact, just inches away, and you smile at each other. he’s stupid but it still amuses you regardless.

he leans back and holds himself up by his palms, looking up to the sun. his eyes are clamped shut as he scrunches his nose briefly.

you move your hands lower until you reach his v-line, a little underneath the hem of his shorts. you shouldn’t be going there but you do anyway. he tenses immediately when you start and you know what you’re doing—you can’t help it—but you pull away and spread the remaining sunscreen on his face to make sure he’s fully covered. you feel like a mother when you do, but ignore it.

“i appreciate it, thank you,” he says to you, and you close the sunscreen bottle and toss it back over to one of the open chairs in case anyone else needs it.

with that, you get up, looking toward the water as you adjust your bottoms. you look back at drew, “come on.���

“what?” he says out of habit, before realizing what you’re talking about. “no.”

“come on,” you say again as you walk to him and grab his arms, then his wrists, to pull him onto his feet. you know he’s willing because you’re even able to move him.

you let go of his wrists as you make your way over to the water. “let’s go! just for a bit! you can just dip your feet in.”

drew doesn’t say anything but him rolling his eyes tells you everything. he’s so sassy, but it makes you grin as you hold your hand our for him to take. he’s slow as he walks over, pretending to not want to, and you groan.

“okay then go sit back down if you don’t want t—”

you’re terrified when he starts charging at you, and you scream as you run to the water as if it’ll help you. he runs in there with you, but you’re constantly looking back and going deeper in when you see he’s still determined to catch you.

he’s pretending to be some monster as he fake growls, though it’s just his face with no round, while clawing at the water as he tries to make his way over to you.

the small waves hit your torso and your hair as it splashes up your body. it’s colder than you thought it would be, and your mouth gapes open in shock.

drew ends up catching up to you and he scoops you up with ease since you’re in the water, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you further into the ocean by your bum.

you look toward the group and see what everyone’s doing in just a brief moment—theo and oscar still gone, you see roman even heading back to the house to help probably, gia’s tanning while laying on her towel, then leila and libby are talking while on the beach chairs right beside her.

drew stops walking when you reach a good spot that won’t kill you in a wave. hopefully. but he doesn’t set you down. the water already reaches high on his torso, so he assumes it’s best not to put you down and risk an incoming wave.

you hold on tight as you look out to the horizon, and you pull away to look at him. there’s an instant smile that forms when you’re face-to-face.

“the water feels nice,” you say awkwardly. the ocean is cold against your back but any body part that touches drew’s body is warm. he’s warm. “i’m really glad you came.”

drew cocks his head to the side as he squints his eyes, “i’m pretty sure i had to. leila wanted to go to the beach today so uh . . .”

“no you fucking—” he’s laughing and you have to wait until he’s done. “you know i meant on this trip,” you tell him.

“i’m glad you came too,” drew says, and you pull him closer again, burying yourself between your arm and the side of his head, and you close your eyes as the waves push you back and forth.

hours pass, unexpectedly. you didn’t initially plan on staying there for so long—none of you do, but time just flies. you’ve eaten the hotdogs provided by the boys, which you heard some got burnt thanks to theo.

you played volleyball a bit after, boys vs girls. you wanted to sit out but leila convinced you to stay.

“don’t be such a baby, roman!” you remember gia yelling to her boyfriend from across the net, and then he was hit with the volleyball again.

now it’s nightfall. you’ve all packed up and returned to the house simultaneously to take showers. some stay to talk or build really sad sand castles out of cups from the house while others occup the showers.

“why don’t you and theo just shower together?” you remember libby asking leila as you and her laid on the chairs together while libby was on the floor with said sand castle.

leila grimaces. “washing sand out of his ass is not romantic whether you’re about to be married or not.”

now you’re all clean, dressed in your pajamas with your freshly wet hair as you sit on the floor with leila. drew is already taking his turn in the shower while you discuss the little scrapbook leila brought on the trip.

she said that she bought everything literally on day one, and she hasn’t gotten around to filling it out yet because she doesn’t know how to. she grabbed you to help and you went to your room to see what she had.

there’s different stickers, paint, flowers, glitter, possibly the entire arts and crafts store all over the floor as you two plan even the first page. she had absolutely no idea what she was doing—you’re certain that she went to the store that day and just started grabbing whatever she thought was cute, but you don’t blame her.

“i just want to show this to our kids or something when they’re our age,” leila says as she rearranges the photograph of her and theo when they first started dating, and she frowns at the memory.

“are you thinking about kids?” you ask her as you glue on a piece of paper in the corner of the page that leila insisted was aesthetic.

leila shrugs, “i mean, you know how it is. eventually, just not now. i don’t think theo and i are ready for that.”

“waking up to crying in the middle of the night,” you let her picture it herself as you scrunch your nose up, “when you already haven’t been able to sleep for days.”

“that’s the only part i’m not excited about,” leila tells you, and she pauses as she thinks about it. “besides the vomiting, the screaming, the pooping, so really i—”

“—should not have a child anytime soon,” you cut her off, and she chuckles, nudging you with her shoulder as she plays around with some of the stickers.

leila sighs after a bit and she looks around, but it’s difficult to see right away when all the stuff is on the floor. “what time is it? i feel like it’s getting late, or it’s ice cream sundae time.”

“probably the second one,” you mumble as you look around for your phone. you don’t know where it is but it clearly isn’t there. it must be in one of the tote bags downstairs, but that’s too far away. “hold on.”

you get up and carefully step over the mess you’ve created—though leila’s already collecting everything to call it a night—and approach your side of the bed. your phone isn’t there still and there’s no clock in this particular room.

you take a peek over at drew’s side of the bed. his phone is laid face down on his nightstand, almost about to fall off. you sigh as you grab it and plan on putting it safely on the nightstand after you check the time really quickly.

“it’s just 10,” you tell her.

she nods as she stuffs her bag with more supplies, muttering under her breath, “definitely sundae time.”

you’re about to put his phone down when a notification comes in. he has a million already pending but you don’t even plan on looking at them until this one comes in just now.

‘ are you seriously with her? ’

you furrow your eyebrows as you check the name.

mila?

is this his girl best friend or something?

another notification comes in right after that that you can’t ignore.

‘ i’m going to sleep. just text me tomorrow. ’

‘ please. ’

‘ i miss you. xo ’

the words blur together for a second, but the meaning behind them hits you all at once. he’s been talking to someone else this whole time, since before the plan was even made probably. you feel a twist in your stomach, but you try to steady yourself, taking a slow breath.

you weren’t expecting this, but it’s not like he owes you anything. you knew things had changed between you two, but seeing these messages—it hurts more than you thought it would.

you’ve been getting closer, laughing together, and just being there in the ocean in his embrace . . . and the whole time, someone else has been on the other side of his phone, waiting for him.

if you had known, if drew had told you he was still talking to someone, you never would’ve agreed to this plan.

you feel uncomfortable, a little betrayed, but not heartbroken. it’s not that deep—not yet. but it’s enough to make you feel like you’ve stepped into something you weren’t prepared for.

“you wanna make the sundae with me?” leila’s voice barely rips you from your thoughts as she gathers her things in her bag and stands up, waiting on you.

“what? no, i’m fine,” you tell her. “i’m probably gonna head to bed soon? i don’t know, i’m tired but i’ll let you know. i’ll probably join you, knowing me.”

she smiles at you but leaves it at that, and leaves the room, leaves your thoughts to grow bigger and louder now that you’re alone.

you don’t check any more of his messages, respecting enough of his privacy not to dig. the weight of those few words heavy in the air as you switch his phone off and set it back down on the nightstand.

i miss you. xo

you shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away. this was supposed to be for your friends, just a harmless plan to avoid awkward questions. that’s all. but now, you’re starting to wonder if there’s more going on here than you realized.

this wasn’t part of the plan.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @cl4uus @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

baby steps. l Joel Miller

Summary: you were his very quiet companion on patrols

Warnings:  angst, a little bit of swearing, mentioning pregnancy, mentioning loss of a child, mentioning abortion, mentioning suicidal thoughts, generally - a lot of unpleasant things, Reader is 30s or sth, I guess

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a long time. There are some not so nice things (read the Warnings!) but I hope the whole story won't be so awful. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

and i would like to thank you for the few kind words i have received recently. it scared me but was very nice. thank you!

The first time he met you was at Tipsy Bison when Tommy told him you would be his new partner on patrols. Footsteps were barely audible, and then a chair on the other side of the table moved and you sat down. 

Your eyes stopped on Joel's face for a moment, you nodded in greeting. The name quietly fell from your lips, and then you focused on the map that Tommy had spread out on the table.

Joel wasn't sure if you understood what his brother was saying to you. You were silent, sometimes nodding your head, nothing more.

"Is she even good for this?" Joel finally muttered as you said goodbye and left.

"What do you mean?" Tommy folded the map and put it in his jacket pocket.

Joel raised his eyebrows "She seems a little... I don't know. Distant?"

A quiet laugh escaped Tommy's lips "Really? And who's talking?" he took a few sips of coffee "Joel, you wouldn't patrol together if I wasn't sure she was good. She may not be the life of the party, but she's great at what she does."

Joel had the impression that he had seen you a few times in Jackson, but you were one of those people who kept their distance from others. So he looked like that to others too?

It was only the first patrol with you that made him change his mind about you, but he wasn't sure yet if this change was for the better. 

You were definitely not one of those people who needed to talk. Small talk wasn't for you, but you listened very carefully. 

The area around Jackson was no stranger to you, just like handling a gun. So Joel got used to you, and over time he even managed to get some information out of you.

You had been in Jackson for almost five years, you lived alone in a small apartment. You were alone. "That's the best way." No family or close friends, except for Maria. You were patrolling and searching for supplies. He was also sure he saw you in the library, but he never asked about it.

After a few months, Joel could clearly tell that you were the right person for the job. He even managed to make you laugh a few times or talk a little longer. You never asked him about the past, and when he asked you about it, you answered "We're at an age where everyone has some background, right? But not everything is suitable for talking about it."

"Your girlfriend seems nice." Ellie stated one day, and seeing his confused face added "I talked to her today. She said that this crap didn't let her finish high school, so now she's catching up on school readings. If I were her, I wouldn't bother. School sucks."

The warm coffee warmed his tired body, but after a moment he spoke up "You talked to her? When? And... She's not my girlfriend."

Ellie shrugged "We talk a lot. And you don't? You spend a lot of time together, I thought that..."

"You were wrong." Joel mumbled "Did she say anything else?"

The girl looked at him carefully. "You really don't know her very well, do you?"

He wasn't sure if he knew you at all. Did he have the right to demand that from you? You did your job thoroughly, he could rely on you, and despite everything you were still standing somewhere in the shadows, hiding from everyone.

"Is everything okay with you?"

Your voice tore him out of his reverie for a moment. You were walking through a quiet area, the fading grass crunching under your feet, and the cold wind slowly became more and more severe.

"Yeah, everything's okay." he replied, glancing at you over his shoulder "I was lost in thought."

"I saw. Good thoughts?"

Joel cleared his throat and stopped, and a moment later you stood in front of him, looking at him uncertainly. 

You really liked him. Miller might seem like a grump, but his personality didn't bother you at all. Women in Jackson also said he was handsome. You had a lot of time to watch him outside the city, you had to admit they were right too. But that wasn't what mattered, was it? You felt safe with him and you trusted him, that was important.

"Doesn't Ellie tire you out?" he asked finally.

"What?" you burst out laughing "Come on. I like her. She asks a lot of questions, but she's a cool girl. I remember when I was her age..."

You stopped as if the thought slowed down your thinking the moment it appeared in your head. Joel saw your eyes wandering around the area with an unseeing gaze.

"Were you her age when this started?" he asked, but you shook your head slightly "Older?"

"Not much." Your voice was quiet but calm "I was a senior in high school. It seems so stupid now... I had a crush on this one guy, fuck, I don't know why I thought of him now."

"It was important back then." Joel mumbled, absorbing your every word. "And your family?"

"They died. A long time ago." The answer was quick, but emotionless. "Why do you ask?"

Joel shrugged. "I don't know. Just like that. Maybe I'd like to get to know you better."

You nodded, analyzing his words for a moment. "You're weird sometimes, Miller." You finally stated. "Conversations like this don't lead anywhere. They only reopen old wounds."

You adjusted your rifle strap and moved forward.

Fall had come for good, and you were slowly starting to withdraw even more. He could see it. Patrols were almost completely silent, he rarely saw you among people or at evening community meetings. 

Even Ellie convinced him that something was going on, because when he asked her she said that she hadn't talked to you in a while.

"It's that time of year." Maria said when he asked her about you too, he was helping her fix the heating in her house. "You should get used to it, Joel. But... I didn't know you were so interested in her."

"It's not like that." he mumbled, but he felt a strange warmth creep up the back of his neck. "She's my partner on patrol. I want to know that she's okay."

"I get it." Maria nodded and sat down on the couch. "Have you talked to her?"

"I've tried, but you know perfectly well that it's not easy. You're her friend." the woman smiled gently. "Is there something she's not telling me?"

"A lot of things, Joel. Just like you, she's not very open to confiding. And this time of year..." she looked out the window where the wind was playing with the fallen leaves. "You should talk to her yourself, if you care about her. But you can also forget about it, be like everyone else, pass her on the street and just let her be. It shouldn't be that hard for you, right?"

And that was something he couldn't get out of his head.

When he saw that guy instead of you the next morning, a strange shiver ran down his spine. "She's sick." Mark said, pushing leather gloves onto his hands. "I'll replace her."

Joel nodded and they set off on patrol. However, his thoughts kept returning to you, he analyzed your last meeting, the last words you exchanged. You were even more subdued. He had the impression that he was forcing the next words out of you, and you just wanted to leave, to disappear.

"She's weird, but pretty." Mark replied when they took a break for hot coffee and a sandwich. "A few guys hit on her, but nothing came of it. Actually, I was hoping that you and her, you know..." he winked at Joel. "But maybe she's that type of person."

"What type?" Joel asked, chewing a bite of his sandwich.

"In times like these, people need each other. They want to at least pretend that things are normal." Mark explained, reaching for the thermos of coffee "And others simply adapt to it. They don't want to have anyone close to them, because it's risky, you know. I guess she's like that. A lone wolf."

But Joel wasn't entirely sure, because he knew you from a slightly different side, or at least that's what he thought. When he showed up at your door that evening, only silence greeted him. And it was the same for the next few days.

"Yeah, she's still in Jackson." Maria was sure of her words "I visited her yesterday, but I don't think..."

That was enough for him. That strange fear was creeping into Joel's heart again. He didn't know why. He was afraid, and all his thoughts kept running to you. It was as if a strange force was pulling him towards you.

"Hey! It's me. Open up." he knocked on your door, but it didn't help "I know you're there. I want to talk. You can't keep hiding."

No answer.

"I can easily break down this door." he declared "I'll make a mess and you'll just be embarrassed. I can do this, you know that. So... On three?" he cleared his throat as if he was preparing to actually do it "One!" Nothing. "Two!" he thought he heard quiet footsteps on the other side. He was about to open his mouth when the door opened slightly and he saw your face.

"You'll hurt your shoulder. It'll be my fault and you'll be excluded from patrols for a long time." you said "That's pointless. Go away."

"I'm not going until you talk to me." Joel replied, his dark eyes full of stubbornness that you knew so well "You can't keep hiding."

"Maybe I'm sick?"

"You don't seem to be."

And then with one strong push he opened the door and before you could stop him he went inside. His gaze swept the apartment, he heard your protests but didn't care. 

Like a storm he passed through the small living room, peeked into the kitchen and when he entered the bedroom he found what he was looking for.

"Fuck! Get out of here!" you hissed, rushing after him, but then you noticed the bottle of whiskey he had taken from your nightstand.

"And these are bedtime snacks?" he growled, throwing a box full of medicines to the floor. "You robbed a fucking pharmacy?"

"None of your business!" you replied, he saw the fury in your eyes. "You're the last person who should be judging me."

"Or maybe I can, because I'm the only one who's ever shown up at your fucking door? What did you want to do, huh?" he put the bottle down with a bang and walked up to you, but you didn't take a single step back. "We were supposed to find you only when the stairwell started to stink? Did you think about Maria? About Ellie? That girl really likes you. Did you think about..."

About me.

Your gaze, although full of tears, was unwavering. You stood there, arms folded across your chest, your throat constricted so tightly that you couldn't swallow.

"Joel..." his name sounded like a prayer in your mouth. "I don't know what you were thinking, but this doesn't concern you. You shouldn't even be here. I tried to keep you out of this."

"Why?" his voice was a little calmer "Why are you like this? I can't figure it out. At first I thought we just didn't know each other well, but after so many months. I heard how freely you talked to Maria, Tommy said that you used to babysit their kid. I don't understand it!"

You closed your eyes as if his words brought you pain, as if they evoked all the emotions in you that you wanted to hide. Tears ran down your cheeks, and a quiet sob escaped your throat.

"I don't know how to deal with this, Joel..." you whispered after a moment, looking at him with eyes full of pain "It all hurts me so much. Every day. Patrols with you were an escape for me, you didn't ask stupid questions, I could feel safe there. But it's all always for a moment."

Joel approached you, his warm hand caressed your arm "You can tell me everything, you know that." you nodded "Come on, sit down."

He closed the bedroom door behind you as if he was leaving something unpleasant and bad there, and then sat down next to you on the couch. When you calmed down a bit, you looked at him like never before, almost with tenderness.

"When I came to Jackson, five years ago, I wasn't alone." you started slowly.

"Were you with someone? With some group?" Joel frowned, trying to remember that detail that must have escaped his attention.

You shook your head. "No, Joel. I wasn't alone, because I was pregnant."

Something twisted his guts. He didn't expect this.

"It was the middle of the seventh month, I guess. It's hard to get regular doctor's visits these days." The little joke was probably meant to lighten the mood, but even you didn't smile. "I've had a long journey. I was alone. Almost." you took a deep breath, and Joel felt his hands go cold and trembling in an instant. "It's funny, you know. Long time ago, women my age already had two kids. And I was completely unplanned pregnant and I hated every single day. I didn't want this baby, but it was there. It was growing. It was alive. I could feel it."

"What about the father?" Joel asked quietly.

A strange grimace crossed your face at the mere memory. "He wasn't father material, if that's what you mean. Some random guy. You know, as women we have another bargaining chip. Something that really tempts some men. Something we can use to survive."

He knew perfectly well what you meant. He had seen many women like that, but he didn't judge them. Everyone did what they had to to survive.

"He was nice, if that's any consolation. We stuck together for a while, and then we went our separate ways. After a while, I found out I was pregnant. But I didn't have anyone or anything at hand to help me solve this... problem." you rubbed your forehead with your hand as if you wanted to get rid of bad memories "Some guy told me about someone who could get rid of it manually, but I was afraid of infection. Then it was too late. Days and weeks passed, and I hated myself and this baby. The nausea was killing me. I was no longer good at smuggling. I also had no idea what I would do with a crying newborn... I got to Jackson, I thought maybe someone here would help me. Maria was so wonderful." a faint smile appeared on your lips, but you weren't even looking at Joel anymore. Your gaze was fixed on your clasped hands "I started bleeding a few days after I arrived. Then everything happened so quickly... The doctor at the clinic couldn't do anything. I had to give birth, but... There was so much blood... And silence. There was no baby crying."

Joel felt as if a heavy stone was resting in his stomach. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your face, but he couldn't say any words that could comfort you. And what the hell would they sound like. But you didn't wait for that, the words slowly flowed from your lips. 

"The doctor said that my body was too weak, that long fatigue, improper diet, that he was too weak... I had a son. He was so small when Maria put him in my arms... And he was so perfect. I was so afraid that his crying would bring trouble to us, that he decided to be quiet."

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault..." Joel finally choked out "Things like that..."

"Happens. I know that." You interrupted him calmly "But it was my fault, Joel. When I saw him... I would have given my life so he could cry, so I could know he was healthy and strong. How could I have ever thought otherwise? What kind of person am I?"

Your voice broke. You looked exhausted and tired of life. Joel understood your guilt perfectly, he knew what you felt. Sarah appeared in his head in an instant.

"I had a daughter." His voice broke the long silence between you. "I lost her right at the beginning."

"I'm sorry." Your voice was quiet, but full of something that gave him some relief.

"After everything I wanted..." he cleared his throat "I wanted to do the same thing you wanted. I even tried, but... I know how you feel, it's so devastating, and it will never get easier."

"I still have him in my mind, you know. He'd be five now. He'd ask a thousand questions, and I'd have to make sure he doesn't get into trouble. Sometimes I think about what it would be like, but then I hate myself even more... I didn't want him. I wanted to get rid of him. Maybe it's because of this..."

"Don't say that." Joel grabbed your hands and squeezed them tightly. "You might have thought so. You were alone, and this world had gone mad. You got into Jackson, you could be safe here, but... These things happen."

You watched him carefully. Never before had you and Joel spoken so intimately, but you didn't feel embarrassed by it. On the contrary, it was the first time someone had really meant it when they said "I understand you."

"I'm sure she was beautiful." you said quietly.

"She was. And very smart. Much smarter than me." Joel added. "She probably would have gone to college or something."

For a moment, silence reigned again. You had the impression that you were both lost in your thoughts about the losses that affected you. You weren't beating each other, you just allowed yourselves to feel it all again.

"Did you really want to kill yourself?" his question brought you back to reality for a moment.

You nodded. "Look at me, Joel. I have nothing, no one. I don't know if I could ever get close to someone again. And all these thoughts only make me feel worse. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to feel anything anymore."

He understood it perfectly. After Sarah died, he felt that this world wasn't for him. Every day was torture, and the longer it lasted, the more he closed himself in his shell. Years passed, and Joel barricaded himself so much that no one and nothing could get him out. 

And then Ellie appeared.

"You know..." he began uncertainly trying to find the right words. "I know what I'm going to say will seem pointless to you, but sometimes it's worth gritting your teeth and trying to live on. Not jumping into the deep end right away, but slowly, day by day. I know that your son..."

The name you gave him when you saw his face for the first time came out of your mouth. Joel repeated it gently.

"Your son would have a really fantastic mother." he said "I'm sorry you had to go through this. I really am."

Tears flowed down your cheeks and Joel struggled to put his arm around you so that you could snuggle up to him. You clung to him, and for the first time he felt the warmth of your body, your scent, your tender touch when you hugged him.

You sat like that for a long time. For the first time you talked about everything and nothing, he heard your quiet laughter a few times and noticed how much he liked it. It was all like honey to his heart. The feeling of loneliness he had disappeared when you were next to him.

He saw you the next day on patrol. It was the first sunny morning in a long time.

"Hi." Your quiet voice was the best thing he'd heard in a long time.

"Baby steps, right?" He nudged your shoulder lightly.

You smiled and followed him.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[bluesidez]

Hello!!! Love that you’re taking requests now 🫶🏽 would you write a domestic!miguel fic? Like showing the chaotic but fluffy dysfunction of the O’Hara household. Miguel and the reader already have two kids, maybe reader is pregnant with the third (if you’re comfortable with writing that)

I just really need some fluff in my life lol 😅

[Five Peas In A Pod]

lab taster: @scorpihoooe 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Pregnant!Reader

summary: No family's life is exactly perfect, but it doesn't make them any less beautiful.

content warning: lots and lots of fluff, mentions of vomit, mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy cravings, mentions of food, could possibly be suggestive? but not enough to warrant a huge warning, a lot of crying but I promise it's not sad

word count: 4.3k, not proofread

a/n: I apologize for this being so late! But I'm really happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it as well!

“Finally.”

Miguel slid under the covers, grunting as he inched towards your back. His breath was warm on your head as he positioned one arm under one of your pillows and another around your waist.

“How are we feeling?” he kissed your scalp and rubbed down your stomach.

“Not too great, she’s been kicking for the past forty minutes.”

“That’s no good,” Miguel shifted to place his mouth on your shoulder. “What’s wrong, mija? Did you miss me?”

Your baby girl brought her feet to where Miguel held his hand, tapping away like there was there was no tomorrow. Miguel chuckled and wrote a pattern into your skin with his thumb.

“I’m glad you two are having a lovely reunion, but I’d like to go to sleep.”

Miguel kissed up your shoulder and neck as you sighed.

“Hear that Gabi? Can you calm down until tomorrow? Mama needs to sleep so you can keep growing. We can talk in the morning.”

Like magic, Gabriella’s little feet slowed to a halt.

“She hasn’t even seen you yet and she’s already a daddy’s girl,” you weave your fingers through his over your stomach. “What’s next? She’ll look like you too?”

“Mm,” Miguel placed his lips behind your ear. “I hope she looks like you. She’ll be the most beautiful in the world.”

You smiled, “Yeah?”

“Of course.”

Miguel took his hands down your body and massaged your hip and lower back. You groaned and melted into your pillow, arching your body into Miguel’s hold. With his ministrations and your daughter giving you a break, you start to fade into dreamland.

You could almost visualize your next craving you were going to make tomorrow. A big bowl of mashed potatoes with chunks of pickles, bacon, and caramel drizzle. Maybe some sprinkles too.

The door of the bedroom creaked, Miguel looking over his shoulder.

“Daddy? Mommy? I threw up.”

Miguel’s hands paused and he heaved a heavy sigh.

There was a dip in the bed and a shuffle of slides across the floor.

“Is your stomach still feeling funny, bub?”

You turned your body to watch Miguel bend down and check your second oldest for soiled clothes. Daniel shook his head and tucked his chin into his chest, eyes welling up with tears.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was shaking. “I didn’t mean to.”

You got up on the edge of the bed and walked around to the other side. You sat on your knees next to Miguel and pressed the back of your hand to Daniel’s forehead. He wasn’t burning up, but he was trembling.

“We know you didn’t mean to, honey. Sometimes, we just get sick. It’s ok!”

“Yeah, buddy. Papá gets sick all of the time.”

“Really?” Daniel looked to Miguel with big doe eyes, a baby picture of Miguel brought to life.

“Absolutely.”

“And Mama has to nurse him back to health-”

“Ok! Here,” Miguel tugged at the sleeves of his shirt while you laugh. “Let’s clean you up and get you some medicine. It was probably really scary, huh?”

Daniel nodded his head as Miguel helped him take off his pajama pants.

“C’mon. Let’s take a quick bubble bath. How does that sound? No need to be sad,” you gave Daniel a hug and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll get the sheets and clothes in the washing machine and join you.” Miguel said as he helped you up. So much for cuddles before bed.

Miguel was quick to scope Daniel’s room. Any smell of tonight’s stir fry mixed with the chocolate milk from lunch and your waves of morning sickness might come back. He was quick to transfer the sheets to the washing machine and spray the room down with disinfectant. Luckily, the damage wasn’t drastic, so a quick change of sheets and a mop to the floor was all that was needed.

By the time he got to the bathroom, Daniel was wrapped up in a green dinosaur hoodie towel with a smile on his face as you blew raspberries into his cheek.

Miguel gasped, “Are you two having a party without me?”

Daniel folded his hands under his chin and nodded meekly, face rosy.

“Nonsense!” Miguel swept him up in his arms. “There’s no party without Papá, no?”

The hall filled with giggles as Miguel airplaned Daniel back to his room. The chatter amongst them filled the noise as Miguel reassured Daniel that he and mommy would only be a room away if was feeling sick again.

He ran lotion over his body and placed him in paw print pajamas. He wrapped him tight in the covers and shifted the star night light on the nightstand. With a whisper of goodnight, Miguel inched his way to the door.

However, the crumbling face of the five year old as Miguel looked through the crack tugged at his heart. He opened the door, swept Daniel up, and trudged back to his own bedroom.

Walking into the room, you were laying down with the opposite side of the duvet flipped up and an extra pillow in between yours and his.

Your face was knowing, a shake in your shoulders as you watched Miguel rock a clingy baby in his arms to the bed.

“Joining mommy and daddy, Daniel?”

“Uh huh,” he crawls to the middle and pulls the covers up. You lay a hand on his tummy over the duvet as Miguel slips in with a deep sigh.

He turns and places his hand over yours, the two of you acting as a shield. “I love you’s” and “good nights” are exchanged and a kiss between the two of you is shared before Daniel whines about wanting a kiss too. Both of you laugh and kiss him on his cheeks as he settled into his pillow.

You rub his chest lightly, something that put him to sleep easily as a baby.

His eyes start to close, almost gone to the world, before he jerks back up, startling Miguel whose eyes were just as heavy.

“Papá, can you sing the night-night song?” Daniel pleads.

A soft breath escapes your nose as you watch Miguel blink his eyes open and comply.

“But you have to go to sleep after this, bub.”

Daniel promises to do so as Miguel starts up a lullaby about a baby that wants to sleep but can’t.

It works on you too, the low drum of his voice holding you in his arms as you held your baby in yours.

Gabriella moved, and as softly as you can, you take his hand to your stomach. With this, she taps softly to his palm.

Miguel smiles sleepily as he watches you take a little breath, the rise and fall of your chest showing that you were in a deep sleep.

He only stops singing when he’s sure all three of you are asleep.

“Jaime, I’ve asked you five times to get up already. Get it together.”

There was only one more hour left before everyone needed to be out of the house or else you’d be late to your appointment.

The lump in the bed only moves a bit before it’s still again.

“Jaime, please. I don’t want to have to pull you out of the bed.”

Today was already starting out all over the place. You woke up sweaty and achy, the heat radiating from your furnace of a husband and your snuggly son was too much. Your ankles felt a little more swollen than usual, and you wanted chewy spicy rice cakes with extra cheese, but the heartburn wouldn’t be worth it.

You sighed as your eldest stayed put. A soft pat to the bed only earned a whine and a wiggle from him.

Looking towards the growing footsteps at the door, your husband was frantic and glaring at his watch as if it cursed him.

“What’s the holdup? We need to be in the car soon and Daniel has to be at school early for a field trip.”

You held your hand out to the bed, face defeated.

“Son.”

Jaime shot up with a wobble to his lips and a scrunch to his face at the tone of Miguel’s voice.

You folded your arms, half concerned, half offended.

“I know you hear your mother asking you to get up.”

“But-“

“Jaime O’Hara.”

The tears start to fall as he shuffles out of bed and goes to the bathroom, his cries pitiful and broken.

He swings the door like he’s about to slam it only to close it softly at the end, the sound of his voice carrying through then hallway.

“Was I too hard on him?” Miguel’s shoulders drop.

“No? I don’t think so. But I think there’s something he’s not telling us.”

“Is there something going on at school? Did we miss an important date?”

The two of you stare at each other as Jaime continues to sob in the bathroom.

“There’s no award ceremonies. He hasn’t said anything strange about his classmates. His birthday isn’t until the end of the year. He does have his game coming up.”

Miguel gasps and runs his had through his hair, “He’s been worrying about his 3-pointers nonstop. He’s probably nervous about it.”

He puts his face in his hand and mumbles through his fingers.

“How could I forget?”

You pat his shoulder, “Don’t worry about that right now. What’s important is that we talk to him. Check up on him, calm him down, explain things to him, and encourage him. Right?”

“Absolutely,” Miguel kisses your temple. “You’re so good at this.”

A snicker follows his statement, “And so are you. Now, can you go stop his crying while I make sure Daniel hasn’t made a mess in the kitchen? He’s too quiet.”

Miguel’s eyebrows shot up again as he realized he left the kindergartner to his own devices. The last time he did that, he walked onto a floor covered in flour and dusty, giggly baby.

“Smart idea.”

“Mm hm.”

Miguel turns and heads towards the bathroom, giving it two knocks before asking to come in.

Jaime takes a deep breath and pushes out a yes.

Miguel opens the door to him crying in the mirror while he puts up his toothbrush. If it were anyone else’s child or baby brother, it could have been funny and dramatic, but Miguel sees himself in the way his entire chest jumps when he breathes in.

He hopes Jaime always feels that home is a safe place to cry and yell, something his own parents never offered him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

He left his frustration with the frantic morning at the doorway and stepped inside. With one hand on the counter and another arm resting on his thigh, he squatted down to Jaime’s level.

His son rubbed his eyes from the inside of his elbow to his arm, “I kept messing up.”

“Messing up what? Your shots?”

Jaime nodded his head, curly hair bouncing along with it.

“At practice, Coach made us do Around-the-worlds and the further from the goal, the more I kept missing. But the game is soon, and I can’t mess up at the game.”

His voice reached its highest point and he bit his lip in order not to cry again.

“Oye, está bien. That’s just practice, mijo. The game isn’t until a few more days. There’s plenty of time for us to get to a court and do some more drills. I know it feels like a lot right now, but we can always work to be better. Understood?”

Jaime nodded his head.

“Can you look at me?”

Jaime pouted as he turned to Miguel.

“I apologize for not giving you the space to explain yourself this morning. I was rushing and I didn’t take the time to check on you. For that, Papá’s sorry. Lo siento, mijo.”

With a calmer demeanor, Jaime forgives him. No whines and no hesitation.

“Still, when you’re feeling like this, you need to communicate, ok? Mamá was there and you could have told her that you were worried. You could have even called for me and I would have come running.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt Mamá.”

Miguel bit the inside of his lip in order to not coo, “I know you didn’t. Would you like to apologize to her like I did to you?”

Jaime collided with Miguel’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck. He could feel the movement of his head nodding.

“Ok, buddy. Let’s go find her after we get your uniform on.”

Jaime wasn’t budging from his spot so Miguel let him cling off his neck as he got up. One day his eldest might not want to do things like this again, so for now he’ll cherish it.

One blazer, some knaki shorts, and a button down later, Jaime was all ready for school.

“And what do we say when we’re feeling down about ourselves?” Miguel asked as he tucked in the end of Jaime’s belt.

“Nothing can stop me from the path I want to take, not even my doubts.”

“And?”

“O’Hara’s may make mistakes, but O’Hara’s bounce back. O’Hara’s succeed.”

“¡Exactamente!” Miguel patted his back.

“¿Papá?”

“¿Sí, mijo?”

Jaime held his hands up, silently pleading with Miguel.

With an easy tug, his son was in his arms. As tall as he was getting, he was still Miguel’s baby.

In the kitchen, you were leaning over the island as you listened intensely to Daniel talk about types of dinosaurs. You looked up to your son in your husband’s arms and you knew they had a good talk.

Miguel strode up to you and looked at Jaime expectantly.

“I,” he picked at his uniform tie. “I’m sorry for not listening to you this morning Mamá. I was sad but that- that doesn’t mean I was supposed to ignore you.”

Your eyes started to water, “I forgive you, Jaime. I’m glad you were able to figure out what was wrong. Can I give you a kiss?”

“Yes, please.”

With that, you kiss his cheek and place a hand on his head.

“Papá, pick me up too!” Daniel huffs out.

Miguel complies, holding him in his other arm like nothing. You giggle at the three of them, all very similar in some way. Their skin, their hair, their smiles. Your precious, precious boys.

A sharp kick to your stomach causes you to suck in through your teeth.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Miguel asks with a pinch in his brow.

“No, I just think a certain someone wants your attention, too.”

You gently press your stomach to your husband’s, hoping that he could feel Gabriella’s tap dance performance.

“She’s going crazy in there,” you mumble.

Miguel can kind of feel her little feet through his shirt, but really, he was staring at you.

Even as you frowned at your stomach, you were still so beautiful. Your skin was glowing, you were giving him more smiles than ever, and the pregnancy was treating your body right in his eyes.

“Mírame.”

You peer up at him and it’s like a halo appears above your head. He’s quick to slot his lips against yours and hold it, the feeling of warmth settling into his bones.

“Eugh,” Jaime scrunches his face up in disgust.

You pull back and shake your head with a heated face, brought back to reality. Daniel is giggling behind his hands.

Miguel turned to Jaime and bombarded his face with kisses to, leading the 9-year-old to scream bloody murder. You joined Miguel on his attack, not stopping until Jaime waved his white flag.

The two of you looked at each other and then at Daniel simultaneously who squeaked when he saw you grin. Laughter filled the kitchen as the three of you gave Daniel some love.

Mornings were for chaos, but they also brought you together.

By the time Miguel was walking to the car with his kids, it was far past his estimated time.

He turned and looked at you still standing by the kitchen counter.

“Baby, c’mon.”

“But,” you pause, smile growing on your face. “The baby wants to be carried, too.”

You think he’s about to brush the comment off with a sigh but he gives a “One sec” and disappears into the garage with the kids.

You go to gather your purse and your water, checking that all of the lights and appliances are turned off.

“Ok,” Miguel rushes back in and claps his hands, “vamos.”

Three blinks at his wrestler stance and it clicks. You walk to him and your feet leave the ground.

“You’re so silly,”

“Just in love, mi amor.”

The gel was still as cold as ever, you could never really get used to it.

Looking to Miguel, you could see that he could never get used to sitting next to you in these rooms either. His grip on your hand was tight and solid.

The obstetrician slid the transducer on your lower stomach, her eyes sliding over the screen.

Gabriella’s little heartbeat bounced through the room, fast and strong.

Miguel’s grip on your hand loosened as he smiled at the screen.

“Baby girl is looking good,” the doctor says. “Everything is in place and she’s growing perfectly. You both should be proud.”

She paused and looked at you both, specifically at Miguel, “I would be worried about how she big she’s getting at this stage, but I can see why. How tall are you?”

“Uh, 6’9.”

A whistle passes her lips, “Godspeed, Mama. You’ll need it for the next several months.”

“Two boys and my only girl is going to give me a run for my money,” you mumble.

Jaime and Daniel were so tiny when they came out, both of them barely showing at five months. Gabriella is close to being almost twice their size at this rate, and the soreness all over your body was showing it.

At least your husband made time to make you feel good in more ways than one.

“Is there anything that she should look out for? Other than the obvious?” Miguel asks, always the worrier.

“No, I think you guys are good to go. I’ll get you some pictures of the baby and get you checked out. Just keep taking your vitamins, get plenty of water, get those feet up, and stretch as much as you can while you still feel like it. The least stress you have, the better.”

Your stomach is wiped clean and in no time, you’re back in the car trying to decide what to get for lunch.

“I feel like I should have asked more questions,” Miguel’s fingers tapped on the wheel.

“I’m sure you’ll have more that you can call her for later, baby. Right now, I want a milkshake.”

“You need some nourishing food, too.”

“Is that what you want Gabriella?” you ask your stomach. No taps, no spins, no twirls. “What about a milkshake? Chocolate oreo? Extra whip cream?” Gabriella thumps three times.

“My girl is already so smart,” you say to Miguel who scowls.

“Already so spoiled.”

“You love it, though.”

“Mm.”

Miguel swore he would never be like those fathers that only connected to their children through their own expectations of them, and to be fair, he was the complete opposite.

Though seeing him stand at the bottom of the bleachers with a baseball cap, folded arms, and a stern face gave the impression that he was that type of dad.

“¡Ay, eso es faulta!”

“Babe. Maybe let’s let the coach and the referee do their jobs.”

“They don’t know what they’re doing. That was clearly a foul and my son should be holding the ball right now.”

You sighed and continued to chew on your nachos with Daniel who was just happy to be out of the house later than usual. Miguel was about to burn a hole in the gymnasium floor with how stiff he was standing.

Behind him was a family that couldn’t see, leaning around him.

“Miguel, honey, please sit down so everyone can see.”

He sits and folds his hands under his chin. His muscles bulge through his jacket as his legs bounce.

You place a hand on his leg and put a water bottle to his lips. He takes a few sips and focuses back on the game.

“Let’s go, Jaime! Make it count!”

He’s back on his feet again as Jaime gets ready to shoot some free-throws.

Jaime looks at Miguel, a hint of fear in his eyes. Miguel brings his hands up and pushes them down, motioning a deep breath.

“You got this, mijo. Just like we practiced.”

Your son dribbles once, twice, and takes the shot.

The basketball flies through the air and brushes the rim of the basket. It spins and the gym goes quiet. You don’t realize your holding your breath until it comes back when the people behind you stomp on the bleachers.

Jaime looks to Miguel with the brightest face he could muster. Miguel almost springs through the ceiling with how high he jumps.

“That’s my son,” he claps his hands like thunder, chest puffing up. “That’s my son!”

The game continues with Miguel milliseconds from fighting with the official, Jaime looking to Miguel for encouragement, and you smacking the back of his thighs whenever he was standing too much.

When Jaime made the final basket, you were scared Miguel might do a backflip.

Jaime ran to him and jumped in his arms, Miguel spinning him around and laughing with glee.

“I did it, daddy! I did it!”

“¡Eres increíble, mijo! I’m so proud of you.”

“Did you see me, mommy?”

“I did! I couldn’t take my eyes off of you!”

Daniel jumps up and down, “You made the ball go whoosh! And, and, and when it went in everybody screamed!”

Jaime and his brother played together as the gym started to empty out.

“What do you say we celebrate with some pizza?” you ask Miguel as you watch Jaime help Daniel dribble.

“I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“And what do you say to carton of cotton candy ice cream after the kids go to bed? Maybe even a soak in the bath?”

Miguel looked to you as you blinked your eyes at him. You slid your hands down his arm and tilted your head.

“You want vanilla wafers too?”

You nod.

“And strawberry syrup?”

“You’re such a good husband.”

You pull him down to kiss him, heart soaring.

“Mamá! Look what I can do!”

“No, Daniel! Don’t jump off that!”

“If I hear that raccoon sing that song one more time, I’m going to lose it,” Miguel bit into a slice of pizza.

You reached across the table to wipe some ranch off of his lips and lick it away.

“I like the song! He’s a little off-key, though.”

Miguel had a grimace on his face, the energy from the building overwhelming. Or perhaps it was Daniel clinging tight to his side whenever the mascot came close to their table.

A couple of kids ran by, running towards the line for laser tag.

You listened to them go over strategies, all very serious coming from them.

“God, I can’t believe he’ll be 10 soon. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You poke the straw of your cup in and out, pout on your face. It felt like just yesterday you and Miguel were setting up his nursery.

“I remember him grabbing my finger at the hospital. So strong for someone who couldn’t eat solids yet.”

“Now he’s running around and blooming into this perfect little boy,” you sigh, watching him catapult into a ballpit. You should definitely make him take some vitamins later, just to be sure.

“And this little boy is the sweetest,” Miguel kissed the top of Daniel’s head, who seemed to be pre-occupied with a coloring book you packed.

“And once our little girl is in our arms, it’ll be so special,” you say. “She’s already making an impact.”

“I’m already crazy about her,” Miguel grins.

“And I’m ready for her to come out,” you snicker. “I have a feeling that whatever she’ll do will involve these rapid fire feet.”

“I need to get some new running shoes then,” Miguel replies in all seriousness. Daniel interrupted him with a drawing of a T-rex.

“When she gets here,” Miguel comments in between his praise for Daniel’s skill, “how do you want to celebrate afterwards?”

“I don’t need anything. Just maybe a plate of food I couldn’t eat and a comfy bed.”

“Mamà, c’mon,” Miguel held your hand across the table. “That can be arranged easily. I mean something especially for you for doing something so amazing. It can be anything. I’ll make it happen.”

Your heart sped up, a bit giddy.

“Well the last time we took a trip to an island and,” you panned to Daniel, “we both know how that ended. Maybe the mountains?”

“We can do the mountains. Or just you and your friends if you want.”

Miguel thought about you all bundled up and cozy, enjoying s'mores and wine in a sweater and a blanket. Peak cuddling form.

“That would be very nice. Thank you, Miggy.”

“Of course. Now what do you say to a friendly game of arcade racing?”

“There’s nothing friendly about leaving you in the dust.”

Miguel scoffed and slid Daniel into his arms.

“It’s on.”

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! This was very sweet to write!!

[tragedy-of-commons]

"You're burning up" + Aventurine?

"You're burning up."

Aventurine doesn't know what else to say, so he goes with those three words. Safe bet - the doting parents in all the movies and sitcoms say it just like that; with care and worry, palm splayed out across the ill's forehead.

And holy hell are you ill.

Collapsed on his lavish sofa, you groan in response, swatting his hand away. "I'm gonna be just fine..."

He's inclined to disagree. You're sweating buckets despite how he'd mashed the thermostat down to its limit - he even had to shrug on a jacket. Perhaps Aventurine would have poked fun at you for your intolerance, but he has enough decorum to hold his tongue. He really doesn't like seeing you so put out, as much as you're welcome to crash here.

"Your poker face could use some work. Save your words, we can hang out another time," he dismisses easily, bracing himself for your incoming opposition. He reluctantly breaks away from your side to amble over to the coffee table, beginning to clean up the remnants of game night.

"No way," in the corner of his eye, he notices you shifting restlessly, "finals are coming up. Won't have time after this..."

Aventurine sighs, sweeping his very nice clay chips into one hand while using the other to click open their case. This time of year, things become almost unbearably hectic. He has exams coming up in a few weeks himself, and though he never needs to study, he always adheres to your modus operandi of 'cram now, cry later'.

"Well, you're not going back to those dorms in that state."

"You sound like a dickhead," you murmur. "You think I wanna live there? Shitty thin walls... shitty dining hall food..."

He chuckles, snapping the case shut and dusting his hands of nonexistent dust. "You're cruder than usual when you're feverish."

Aventurine almost startles when you gasp. "I have a fever?!"

...and you're loopy, too.

He gets you to sit still with the promise of retrieving a fever reducer and some water. Aventurine roots through his bathroom cabinets, combing through his own extensive collection of self-care and skin products to reach where he keeps his medication.

It takes several minutes of crouching down on the tile for him to realize he doesn't have any. He clicks his tongue - well, it seems his own lifestyle has backfired on him once again. Aventurine doesn't get sick often, doesn't spend a lot of time at home, and has enough stubborn resilience to power through any ailment that might plague him.

But for you? The only reason he spends any time at all in this stupidly expensive penthouse?

Yeah, he'll make a quick trip to the drugstore.

When he walks back into the living room with his shoes on and wallet in his pocket, his heart warms. You've somehow slipped into an upside down position, hair spilling over the edge of the cushions. You somehow make it look comfortable, eyes closed and brow free of any creases.

"Does that help your sinuses?" he asks, really only to test if you're awake.

"You smell good..."

Aventurine ignores how those words make him feel, eyeing the door (and where your shoes are lined up neatly against the wall).

"I have to restock on Tylenol," he swallows. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yes," you respond coherently this time.

Before he departs, he cajoles you into another position in case you throw up like that and end up choking - not without some strangely endearing complaints that you'd normally never voice, positive thing you are.

He doesn't get to the inside mat before you pipe up again, making him stop in his tracks.

"C'mere," you cough. "Please, humor a dying star's last wish..."

He really should be going so he can get your temperature down quicker, but leaving you on the sofa while you're about to cough up a lung strikes him as cruel. Aventurine gives into your dramatics - which happen to perfectly align with his own at times - and makes his way over to you.

"What is it? Did I forget something?" he sits down on the armrest, perching there with perfect balance. When you don't respond immediately, an odd little expression on your face, he rests his chin on his fist, pensive.

You hum.

He doesn't expect much; a request for another pillow, a plea for him to turn on a movie for you while he's out. Instead, he's caught off-guard as you throw an arm around his waist and pull, effectively whisking him off the high ground and right into your grasp.

Aventurine initially tenses but settles as you nuzzle closer. You're the only person in the world that can get away with loving him so easily.

"M'sorry I got sick on game night..." you whisper, uncaring that you're spreading your sickness (and your homely oxytocin).

He finds himself not caring much either.

"Do you believe me to be that hung up on you catching a cold?"

Aventurine's heart rabbits cruelly - he's sure you can hear it, with the way you're snuggled against him and whatnot, but maybe he'll get lucky like he always has, and you'll remain oblivious and perfect and unbothered, despite what you do to him.

You sniffle, words thick with exhaustion. "I dunno. Just stay."

He can't. Not just because he has to go pick up that Tylenol, but because he feels like he might die if you keep saying things like that.

"Five minutes," he acquiesces.

Aventurine waits for your celebration of victory, but no such thing comes. You're fast asleep, clinging to him like he's worth something.

He stays for a lot longer than five minutes, only wriggling out of your arms when he's sure you won't wake up to find him gone. When he returns later with his spoils (which also just so happen to include your favorite drink), you're cradling a pillow in his place.

Before Aventurine is your boyfriend or lover, he is a liar.

He is most definitely, unequivocally, one hundred percent hung up on you.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: modern au because i couldn't possibly resist. just wanted to mention here that u guys absolutely killed it with these quotes. you have my gratitude! also why is he like that. soggy wet cat

event post here

[evanbi-ckley]

He feels like he’s being weighed down. Like he’s under water or a heavy blanket. His limbs are heavy, and he can’t get his eyes to open. There’s muffled sound nearby, but he can’t make out anything coherent. He’s also really warm. Uncomfortably so.

Is this what death is like? Is he in Hell? Or something Hell-adjacent? Were all the fire and brimstone idiots he refused to give the time of day actually right about something?

But then the heat is gone and there’s a cool breeze that skims across his skin.

Does he have skin? Do people feel their skin once they’re dead?

He’s still debating with himself as he gets pulled further under.

~***~

What is that annoying, repetitive sound? Did he change his alarm? Why the fuck can’t he turn it off?

~***~

It hurts.

Why does it hurt?

He can’t even tell what hurts, but something fucking hurts.

If he could just open his eyes and get up to take some ibuprofen.

Also his nose itches. Why can’t he fucking scra-

~***~

“Fucking bees.”

~***~

He’s warm again, but it’s not uncomfortable this time. 

He feels safe. And alive. 

He doesn’t feel as weighed down anymore.

It’s difficult, but he cracks his eyes open. He’s - in the hospital? That’s definitely a hospital ceiling and hospital lights and hospital machines beeping.

He turns his head to the left - slowly - and sees his arm is in a giant cast. That explains why he can’t lift it.

He turns his head to the right just as slowly. He’s surprised to see a head of curly hair lying next to his hip, a large hand in his own. 

When he flexes his hand, the curly head pops up immediately.

The man looks at him with bloodshot eyes that clearly haven’t seen sleep in days. He’s young - not alarmingly so but certainly younger than Tommy. The stubble on his jaw has gone far past 5 o’clock shadow and has entered the realm of beard, making him look slightly older. But who -?

“Tommy?” the man asks. His voice is low and raspy, possibly unused.

“Uh,” Tommy says. His own voice sounds even worse.

Without hesitation, the man turns - without letting go of Tommy’s hand - and pours a cup of water from the pitcher on the table next to the bed. Then he brings the cup up to Tommy’s mouth, a bendy straw pointing toward him.

Tommy drinks slowly, his mouth feeling like parchment that’s been left out in the sun too long. 

“Thanks,” he says.

The man sets the cup down and says, “Yeah, so um, h-how do you feel?”

He thinks for a bit, taking stock of himself.

“Sore. Numb in places. I assume they’ve got me on the good stuff?” The man nods, a cute smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “But there’s also the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen sitting next to me, holding my hand. So all told, I’m doing pretty well.”

The tips of the man’s ears turn pink, and a cute blush spreads across his cheeks. Adorable.

“You don’t have to flirt so hard, Tommy. You should know by now, I’m a sure thing.”

Ah, so -

“So we’re,” Tommy gestures vaguely with his head, “together?”

“Uh,” the man laughs uncertainly, “for about six months now, yeah.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up. “But you’re so…” He trails off, not really knowing where he was going with that.

“So…what?” the man prods.

“Take your pick,” Tommy says. “Young? Pretty? Out of my league?”

“Sweetheart.” The man says it like they’ve had this discussion before, but he’s smiling. “Don’t try to amnesia your way out of being with me. I called dibs forever after our second date.”

Tommy smiles lazily. “Dibs forever, huh?”

“Yep. You’re stuck with me.”

Humming as if he’s considering the pros and cons, Tommy finally says, “I guess I can live with that.”

The man’s smile is blinding. “Evan,” he says. “Evan Buckley. In case you forgot.”

It comes back to him then - a cruise ship rescue in the middle of a hurricane, a basketball game, a kiss, a first date that ended terribly, more dates that ended perfectly, slow dancing in the kitchen, long nights together that ended too soon. A call during a bad storm, total engine failure, glass and fear and rain and acceptance and trees and blue eyes and a smile like warm sunshine.

“Evan,” Tommy says, pulling him closer. “Baby.” He kisses him softly. “I love you more than anything. How could I forget?”

Evan has tears in his eyes and leans their foreheads together when he says, “Don’t ever do that again. I thought I lost you.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. I thought so, too. I thought I’d never get to see you again. I’m so sorry.”

The next kiss is wet with tears - Evan’s or his own, it doesn’t matter. They’re here, and they’re both okay, and they’re together. That’s all that matters.

“I love you, too, by the way,” Evan says once they pull apart. “Can’t believe you waited to tell me until after you almost died, but I’ll take it.”

“I’ll say it every day until I actually die, okay?” he says. He gets a smack to his good shoulder for his effort, but they’re smiling too hard for it to have any weight.

There’s a long road ahead with recovery and therapy and stubbornness and frustration, but they’ve got this. They’ll get through it all. 

Together.

part 1

part 2

part 3

also now on ao3!

[kenobers]

tremble & shake | jason todd x sionis!reader

but first free palestine !! Jason doesn't show up for your hook-up. You don't think much of it until he comes barreling through his window in a distressed state. He's desperately in need of your comfort and you don't have a clue why, but you can't stand to see Jason Todd hurting. tw: angst, hurt/comfort, could be read as a panic attack, mental breakdown, slightly dubious attempts to initiate sex, non-sexual intimacy, uhh fear, self deprecating thoughts (i swear, one day i'll write something where neither you nor jason have anything bad to say about yourselves). jason todd needs a hug, reader was previously not very good with emotions. or empathy. fem!reader. a/n: happy batman day! here's jason crying <3 this comes after magic hands & is this love?

Slam.

You jolt awake from your sleep, immediately reaching for a blunt object. Blinking hard, you squint at the door. Jason's door.

That's right, you're in Jason's apartment for one of your regularly scheduled hook-ups. He hadn't shown up, his phone abandoned on his bedside table. You figured he must've had to patrol tonight and forgot to give you a heads up. However, it's been pouring rain all night, so you decided to stay. You must've fallen asleep waiting for him.

"Jason?-"

No sooner does the man's name leave your lips than he practically tackles you on the bed. He's still in his costume, the red bat on his chest heaving heavily. His red mouthpiece hides the bottom half of his face as he looks down at you from behind the white of his domino mask. He's absolutely drenched. Cold clings to him and sends a shiver down your spine.

You furrow your brow. Something's wrong.

"I thought you weren't patrolling tonight," you whisper. He says nothing.

Pursing your lips, you ran your hands along his bare forearms. He's shaking. He'd gone out without his jacket. Jason's tough, almost inhumanely so, but if he'd gone out without his jacket in this rain...he must've been in a hurry.

"Did something happen?" Your eyes search his unbroken skin for injuries. Still, he says nothing and the empty whites of his mask are starting to freak you out.

You push his wet hood back and comb your fingers through his soaked hair until they find the buckle of his mask. You undo it and pull the mask from his face, peeling the domino along with it. His expression underneath is just as blank, like his mind is somewhere else.

Before you can say anything, he's kissing you hard. Almost violently. A shaky hand grips your shoulder with a ferocity Jason hasn't previously had with you, even when you've really gone at it.

"Hey," you say between harsh, wet kisses. "Jason, stop."

As if he doesn't hear you, Jason moves to your neck. The hand on your shoulder drops to your hip.

"Jason."

It starts to paw underneath your satin hem.

"Jay!"

The fear in your voice makes his head snap up. He stares at you with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. You shake your head, "I don't want this. I don't think you want this."

He moves off of you, staring at his lap.

You sit up slowly, mirroring his position on his knees. Panic chews at your insides as you try to assess him. He needs help, needs comfort, maybe. You have no experience with comfort, no clue what to do. You can't do this, you're not the person he needs, this-

This isn't about you. The man that has been at your every beck and call for the past several months looks like he's fighting for his Goddamn life. You don't hate the possibility of making a fool of yourself as much as you hate the sight of seeing Jason Todd in pain.

Somewhere, in the very back of your mind, there's a vague memory of a hand cupping your cheek, wiping away your tears. You copy it, reaching out to him hesitantly, terrified of making things worse.

Your fingertips brush his cheek with an almost non-existent touch, just heavy enough to wipe away the remnants of rain. He leans into your touch and you take this as permission to hold his face in your trembling hands.

His own hands find your hips again, drawing you between his thighs as his head comes to rest in the crook of your shoulder.

"'just wanna feel you," he mumbles against your skin, making your shoulder vibrate.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like this," you card your other hand through his damp hair. "You're going to wake up and realize it wasn't what you needed."

He says nothing, but clutches you as close as he possibly can. You tense as he presses against you. His armor digs into you uncomfortably, the buckle of his holster poking at your thigh. Water from his soggy clothes seeps through your satin nightgown. The hand on his face begins to cramp at this bent angle.

You've never seen him like this. Neither of you ever really come to one another for comfort, sans the time he brought you pads. Or the other time he calmed you down from a fight with your father. Or came to your rescue when your friends got you greened out on some fucked up weed. Okay, so you come to him for comfort, but he is...much more reclusive about his emotions. Complaining to you, sure. He often pulls to your sessions pissed and fucks you until he felt better. Sometimes he's so hungry for your body that he doesn't speak, except to check in with you. This was neither of these things. But this would mark the first real emotional emergency of whatever this relationship is. This was sad, desperate. Fearful.

"Please," he breathes in a broken voice. You...relax.

Without thinking about it, you hug him. You run your hand between his shoulder blades, supporting the back of his head. You cradle him like he might break. The same way he holds you when he sleeps.

"Nothing's gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna let 'em," the memory in the back of your head says.

"It's okay," you soothe, pressing your lips to his wet curls, feeling them tickle your cheek. "I'm not gonna let anything hurt you. Nothing's gonna touch you here, Jaybird."

There's a slight shake of his head as he clings to fistfuls of your dress. Your stomach clenches at the thought of whatever was bad enough to puncture his mind like this. You pull back just enough to look at him. Only the bottom half of his face was visible. His lips quivered, silently forming "no" over and over again.

You momentarily retracted your hand from his back to rest your palm to his cheek.

"Baby, I don't know where your brain is telling you or what it's telling you is happening, but I swear to you, you're safe with me in your apartment. Nothing is coming for us, I won't let anything happen."

His breath shutters and he buries his face completely into your shoulder. You squeeze your arms around him, rocking the giant man back and forth. He defeatedly sags against you with a single sob. Your heart drops even further at the sound. You shush him gently, resting your chin on his head.

"It's okay, you're okay. You're here with me. I've got you, baby. I've got you."

The next however many minutes go on like this. You cradle him, praying he doesn't shatter in your lap. You coo any sweets words you can think of until the tension in his muscles eases at your touch. His weight grows heavier in your embrace. For a moment, you think he fell asleep.

"Jay?" You call out softly. He lifts his head and rests it against your forehead. His gaze is still lost in space, but at least they look exhausted. That's better than nothing.

His skin burns against icy hot yours. Sweat starts to replace the rain. He needs to sleep, but he needs to properly warm up first.

You frown, "Jay, you should take a shower. You'll catch a cold."

He tightens his grip on you, not eager to let you go. You tuck your hand under his jaw, "I'll come with you."

This is a good enough promise to sway him. He nods, reluctantly pulling away from you. You slip off the bed, then shyly grab his hand. He intertwines his fingers with your own and follows you into the bathroom. It hits you that this is the first time you've held hands. Under better circumstances, it would feel nice.

You eye him up and down, taking in the damage under the bright bathroom fluorescents. His cheeks are flushed and newly decorated with tear streaks, but otherwise, he really doesn't look hurt. Just incredibly lost. Like he's not quite sure where he is. Green irises burn holes in you, golden flecks incinerating your skin, as if he's trying to figure out if you're real. The gaze is so intense, you have to look away for a minute. You conveniently make note of how funny of his scuffed up black boots look compared to your pedicured toes, bare against the checkered tiles.

He needs to get out of his wet clothes.

Sliding your hands under the shoulders of his sleeveless hoodie, you ask, "Can I undress you?"

He blinks. You hold your breath, praying you didn't just trigger something else. Then, wordlessly, he nods. You let out the breath as inconspicuous as you can and make quick work of the damp hoodie. His shirt follows. All scars, bruises and beauty marks look present and accounted for. Nothing new in the inventory. 

It's when you tug his gloves off that you finally locate any kind of laceration. Pebble-like imprints litter his palms; he must've been clutching something concrete like a stress ball for hours. He hadn't bothered with his usual red wrist wraps either, another sign he'd left in a hurry.

You don't pry, however. Instead, you kiss his reddened palms. Then, as your father taught you to do, you turn his still trembling hands over in your steady ones and kiss each knuckle gently. Unlike his forehead, his skin here is frozen until warmed by your loving lips.

Something about this interaction seems to ground the man a little more. You kneel to untie a beat-up boot, reminiscing about how your father used to let you take his loafers off for him when you were little. However, you've only managed to undo the other knot when Jason stops you.

"I can get the rest."

You're thrilled to hear him speak and nearly pop a kiss on his lips like it's a gold star before thinking better of it. You leave him to it, redirecting your focus on turning the shower on and picking out two fresh towels.

When at last he's naked, you make to shed your own minimal clothing. However, Jason stops you yet again, with time with an unsure hand on your bicep. He takes a moment to simply examine you once more in the good lighting, this time letting his eyes wander from your face. A hint of adoration crosses his drained features as his gaze combs your body, lingering on the curves and swells highlighted in baby pink.

Jason's index hooks around the thin strap of your slip. His thumb skims along the satin material before caressing your collarbone. It's a classic Jason move, but now it feels more akin to the way a child might grip a blanket.

"...Can I?" It's the shyest you've ever heard him speak. You nod and he brushes either strap off your shoulders, watching as the item pools at your feet. You give him a moment to admire the matching pink thong underneath before it joins the fabric puddle on the floor.

The shower is quiet, save for the dulcet sound of the running faucet. Jason winces when the hot water stings his frigid skin, however you can physically see the tension in his muscles melt away. His shoulders are much more relaxed beneath your washcloth, the rise and fall of his chest is becoming less stagnant. You take turns washing each other, like it's some kind of game. You touch him tenderly, still gauging for any kind of pain. He touches you with an intent that doesn't meet his drained eyes, still just gauging you.

When the silence is broken after who knows how long, it's by Jason.

"I don't deserve you."

His voice cracks like a 15-year-old.

"Don't talk like that," you chastise. He doesn't elaborate as his hand continues to rub body scrub along your back. You turn to him, both of your hands finding his face and holding it in place, the way he loves to do to you. "Don't talk like that."

You don't know what else to say. Neither of you are wordsmiths. You're afraid if you try to keep him talking, he'll just be self-effacing. You don't think you could handle hearing him talk about himself that way, not with him being as stubborn as he is. So you press a soft kiss to his lips. It isn't long, it doesn't invite more, but when you pull away, there's more green in his eyes. He envelopes you into his chest and holds you there. You return the embrace without hesitation, arms sliding around his waist while water taps the tops of your heads. You think you could stay like this forever; wrapped in each other's arms under the sanctuary of warm water, as the sound of his heart beat lulls you somewhere far away from the world outside the fogged up glass.

You do stay like that until the shower runs treacherously cold. Until one of you has to shut the faucet off, until the other is swathing each of you in fluffy wine colored towels. It's just a series of tasks you wordlessly complete so you can earn the reward of collapsing into bed, just dry enough to avoid waking up to a still damp pillow. You're both too tired to be bothered with pajamas. You aren't sure you're so wiped. Maybe you're just desperate to hold your lover again. He seems to feel the same way as he wastes no time reaching for your waist once the comforter is pulled up.

He slides down to kiss your shoulder and appreciate the warm scent of your body scrub. Much to your surprise, his head stays there. Even more to your surprise, you find it's because his eyes have fluttered shut. Jason never beats you to sleep, even at his most tired. But the relaxed weight of his body on your tells you he's winning this round.

You stroke the nape of his neck, grazing your fingernails through the tapered patch of hair. You'd been so focused on everything else that hadn't even noticed he'd gotten the haircut you'd asked him to. The request had been a joke really, something snarky to remark when he'd said something too nice about your appearance. It looked good, even from this angle. He must've just gotten it today. He must've gotten it for you.

Not everything's about you.

You try to push the thought out of your head as you admire the way Jason's cheek is smushed against your chest. If you lingered on it, you'd just started ragging on yourself, making it even more about. Earlier tonight had been the first time may be ever that someone with the last name Sionis had dared to consider something might not be about them. But what, did you want a cookie or something? A key to the city for your basic empathy?

Jason's earth rattling snore yanks you from your tailspin. You giggle quietly, no wonder he waits to fall asleep second. Your fingers resume wandering their course through his hair and a tremor runs down his back. He lets out a satisfied snort, his red lips parting. With a deep breath, he nuzzles into you. His usually hardened face is the softest you've ever seen it. Even the scars seem to fade. It's the complete opposite of the stony picture you woke up to. Despite the circumstances, you wouldn't trade the world for the sight before you.

You smile drowsily, ready to follow his lead and doze off when your phone vibrates rudely on the bed stand. You swear mentally, first at yourself for jerking so suddenly, then at whoever the fuck just had to send you a notification right this very second. A string of potential threats crosses your mind as you clumsily reach for the phone, gritting your teeth at the awkward way you bend your arm. It isn't easy to reach when a 225 pound man is slumbering (thankfully) unperturbed on top of you.

It takes you a few seconds to recall how to read as you glare blearily at the too bright screen. Your eyebrows knit when a message from an unknown number at last comes into view.

'Is he okay?'

You inwardly rescind your threats. It doesn't take a genius detective to deduce the identity of the sender.

'He's okay. He's sleeping now.'

The reply is instant.

'That's good. Moderate case of fear toxin, it should wear off all together by the morning.'

Ah, that will do it. You frown at Jason. A sick feeling creeps in at the thought of how terrified he must've been. That's why he seemed so unsure of you; you weren't the only thing he was seeing. Your poor baby.

When you glance back at your phone, there's another text.

'Are you okay?'

You blink.

'Yes, thank you. We're all fine here.'

There is one more response before you shut off the phone.

'I'll check in in the morning. I'm glad he's with you. Get some sleep.'

You're glad he's with you too. You're glad he came to find you. You're glad he wanted your comfort.

You're glad you would do anything for this stupid boy.

Jason sighs into your now dry skin. For just this moment, he knows nothing but peace. You'll fight off anything else.

Finally, you succumb to your exhaustion, knowing better than to disobey the Bat. The last thought you have is how warm Jason is wrapped safely in your arms before dreams of his shit eating grin take over. 

[maxtermind]

A smut, or fluff story, anything really. Where reader is slightly chubby with thick thighs, and she’s super insecure and lando hates how she doesn’t see her worth and helps her. - coming from a thicker girlie 🥹

a/n :: got me thinking and like im gonna ramble😓

lando would honestly be so fucking sweet everytime you'd feel insecure even when he doesn't understand it.

you are literally so beautiful so how could you feel insecure when he's absolutely smitten but he does get it.. he gets it better than most.

maybe you're just lying in bed with a sheet covering your thighs because it's really one of those days.

lando notices and is quick to reach under the sheet to rub your thighs while continuing whatever conversation you guys were having.

you instantly feel your heart calm down a bit and when you kiss him,'thank you.' without saying it out loud. he's just smiling cheekily as his hand keeps on moving higher and higher till it's cupping you fully and a hiss is leaving your lips.

calls you 'pretty girl,' in public whenever he feels like you're closing off with the insecurities creeping in.

glares at people if they stare till they stop.

he is proud of you and none can ever make you feel bad about yourself when you're his

imagine how he eats you out, teeth dragging sinfully against your soft thighs he is holding securely in his hands. dragging out a low,"patience baby!" when you try to grind against him to get his mouth where you need it the most.

"let me show 'em some love before I get you off, baby," and like who are you to reject such a princess treatment when he's making you feel so good.

you know you can approach him whenever.,

"do you think this makes me look ugly?" and he'll look up before his brows would draw together because like what the fuck?

looking at you literally reminded him that his heart beats because of how fast it goes suddenly.

"you look eatable if anything," lando replies nonchalantly before throwing the phone that was in his hand on the couch, pulling up to his lap so he can show you exactly what he thinks the dress makes you look like.

your cheeks burn and you're sure he can tell when you feel a very hard evidence of how that dress makes him feel.

"this is all for you, love. don't go shy on me now."

lando makes sure to keep an eye out because he knows you are chronically online when you want to be and salty people hiding behind their screens aren't exactly kind.

the minute he comes home and sees you slumped on the couch with your phone in your hand, he is snatching it away.

"babe I'm starving so I think we should cook together."

drags you across the room till you're sitting on a chair while he cooks, keeping you engaged in whatever gossip he gets from the paddock.

you get distracted for a bit and with a smile, lando is leaning against the counter and gently pressing his lips against yours.

hours later, when you both are fed and happily in love, he is again getting on his knees to show him just how much he appreciates your pretty curves.

the world is loud but all you can hear is his voice, he makes sure you know it's the only one that is valid.

it gets easier because he is able to love you at times it's hard to love yourself.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

I LITERALLY THOUGHT OF YOUR JASON WHEN I SAW THIS TIK TOK: it was someone getting emotional because of their s/o reconnect with hobbies they did during their childhood.

and i just thought of jason presenting reader with baked treats, unknowingly rambling about the treats him and alfred made to give to bruce and kids of crime alley.

and reader just tearing up or (if like me) full on crying and jason holds your hands with his mitten hands, wondering if you burnt yourself from eating them too quick. only for reader to be emotional over his hobbies before he died :(

Cookie Sheets

Ah!! Wait, I LOVE this. Here's a little (mostly) fluffy ramble that spiraled because self-control and Jason Todd do not go together for me. ~500 words

You didn't think anything of it, when Jason picked up baking ingredients during your weekly grocery shopping trip.

You were mildly curious, when he pulled out a worn, handwritten page from his pocket and started to move around the kitchen, pulling bowls and pans out of the cupboards.

You were engaged, watching silently from where you're sat, when the smell of baked goods started to fill your apartment.

He was obviously focused, eyebrows knitted together, and lower lip pulled between his teeth. You really, really wanna listen to the cliché 'kiss the cook' apron he's wearing, but something about the intent look in his eyes tells you this is important.

So you wait, content to study him as he moves fluidly around the kitchen. Your bright grin matches the giddy expression on his face when the oven timer goes off.

It's when he's finally, carefully moving each cookie off the tray to cool when he starts to talk, "Alfred and I used to bake together all the time."

You straighten out immediately, "Yeah?"

He hums in acknowledgment, "Yeah. For everyone, really. Brownies that B took into the office for his meetings. Cakes for Dick to take back to the Titans. Bags of cookies for the kids on the streets. Pies for the shelters in Park Row."

"Oh," You say softly, and the weight of what he's doing settles on your shoulders. It makes your throat tighten, in grief of what was taken from him and in pride that he's rekindling that part of his life.

You almost want to cry over the fact that he's really always been so good. You practically jump out of your seat, moving to pluck a cookie off the counter.

"Doll," Jason practically cries out, voice pitching. He goes to snatch the treat from your hand, "It's still hot!"

You bite into the cookie instead, "It's delicious."

His eyes soften a little, but he still fixes you with a disbelieving gaze, lifting your hand to inspect it for burns, "They weren't going anywhere, you know."

"We can make more, if you want. Take them down to the soup kitchen," You suggest, a little sheepish as he presses a kiss to your fingertips.

Jason smiles at you, and you know you've said the right thing, "I'd like that." His eyes dart back to the cookies for a moment, "Were they really good? It's been a while since I, uh, made them."

You grab another cookie and grin, biting into it even under his disapproving glare. This time, you listen to the apron and plant a kiss on his cheek, "They're good. Really good."

He kisses your forehead in return and tentatively picks up a cookie, turning it over and inspecting his work. He takes a bite, like he's braced for it to be nothing like he remembers. But his body relaxes instead, "Yeah, doll, they are."

You spoil yourself and chase his lips, curious to see if his baking tastes just as good on his tongue. (It does)

[machveil]

Trying not to think about Simon 'Always Doing Acts of Service and Caring for Others Silently' Ghost Riley forgetting to care for himself as much, and how it would probably touch a part of his heart he thought wasn't there anymore if someone did the same for him. Something simple, like just a new jacket after his old one got wrecked from wear and tear, that's thick and durable but soft and comfortable, a nice weight on his shoulders but doesn't make him sweat, resting over his chair. Or after a long day of work where he's dragging himself along, finding a meal already made for him sitting in the fridge, something actually cooked and seasoned the way he likes so he doesn't have to think about cooking or go to bed on an empty stomach. Idk, this has been rattling around in my brain all day and I needed to get it out, sorry if this is weird! Also really like your art and writing, congrats on the 1k, you deserve it and so much more!

anon I’m smooching your big, beautiful brain (I wrote this in one sitting, hope it’s not terrible lol)

Simon Riley is a man of action - Ghost, the most literal manifestation of serving. Ghost follows and gives orders to assure his team, his friends, make it home safe at the end of a deployment. as a Lieutenant, Simon wouldn’t say it out loud, but he cares so deeply for his team. Task Force 141 is a second home to him, more so the people, and thus makes it his job to protect them

but Simon Riley is also a man of action off duty - a civilian who’s heart rests in your hands. loyal as a dog, Simon would do anything for you. a man of action, he’ll insist you relax, you shouldn’t lift a finger for something small. anything Simon can do in your stead he will. because, while his team is a second home, his true home is you

but Simon, stubborn and strong as he is, gets tired. front door clicking shut, mask already being tugged off, his muscles are tense and sore after a long day. dirty blond hair messy and eyes half lidded with exhaustion, he’s still only got one thing on his mind - to serve you and make you happy. he already planned on trudging into the kitchen to make dinner, something simple but filling. he pauses when he smells food already though

kicking his boots off, worn and dirty, he makes his way to the little kitchen around the corner. cracking a small, barely there smile at the sight in front of him. you, moving about the kitchen. the lights a little dim - he’d change the lightbulb later, and there you are, cooking a meal. one step ahead of him, and he soaks in the domestic scene. a part of him wants to step in, tell you you’ve done enough and he’ll finish everything off… but he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt this cozy, intimate moment

it’s only when you see him does he approach, hands a touch too rough and calloused - he’s sure you’ll make him moisturize later. “Smells nice, lovie.”, he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hairline. eyes fluttering shut as he holds your hands, a small grin tugs at his lips, “S‘pose the food smells good too.”. he relishes in the laugh that leaves you, the way you squeeze his hands. he moves to press a kiss to your jaw, slightly crooked nose nudging against you as his hands wander to your hips - touch featherlight, as if handling you any rougher might shatter you

there’s a reluctance in his heart as he lets go of you, scoffing when you tell him to go sit down. “Bossy little thing.”, he mumbles, voice lighthearted as he leans back against a counter. he stays there for just a moment, one last glance at you happily cooking - cooking for him. it melts his heart knowing that you’re just a loyal as him, that you’d both run to the ends of the Earth for each other

he’s content to finally relax, leaving the kitchen to slump against a chair in the small dining room. head tilted back a little as he rolls his shoulders, his hands move to idly take his belt off - he’d change later, a hot shower after dinner always made him feel better. maybe he’d convince you to join him, better yet— maybe he’d convince himself to indulge in a hot bath instead. and when you join him at the table, sitting down next to him with a full plate for him, Simon feels butterflies in his stomach

he loves eating with you, sharing a meal and letting his guard down. gaze smitten as he listens to you recount your day, breathing steady as he hums. and when everything is done, stubborn man, he’ll take the dishes to the kitchen. as much as he’d like to wash them straight away, he settles for leaving them in the sink tonight. soon enough he’s sweeping you up in his arms - no matter how roughed up and sore he is, he always finds the strength to carry you. he’ll ignore any protest that, “Simon! I can walk—“, a gruff chuckle rumbling in his chest, “Know that, love, but I can carry you just fine.”

and from then on, Simon feels like he’s floating. in a dreamlike state, he sets you down on the cool bathroom floor, feet making contact with tile. gently thumbing at your hips, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, “Thank you.”. soft spoken words contrasting his gravely voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek - lips a little chapped, but he’s never heard you complain about them

and when you help each other slowly strip, the bathroom filling with mist like steam, he feels the tension in his muscles give. he puts up a little fight, grumbled words, when you insist on sudsing him up. he’s all bark though, when he feels you rub his aching shoulders he feels like he could never muster up any bite ever agiain. comfortable and turning to putty in your hands, he’ll happily let you mould him into a soft, gentle man

he’ll lazily return the favor, rough hands lathered in your body wash. content. feeling you under his palms, warm skin dotted with beads of water and bubbles, Simon’s content. a warmth in his chest that he’s still not used to. the simple intimacy of washing away the sweat and filth from the day, it makes Simon feel like a new man - and to wash you? he’s happy you feel safe enough, that you trust him, to handle you so carefully

and at the end of the night, cleaned from the dirt of his daily life, Simon settles in bed with you. all gentle touches and soft, murmured praise - you did so good for him today. he fights the back of his mind off, you’ve taught him better than to believe those gnawing words. Simon Riley deserves this. a phrase you carved into his heart, long since settled at the forefront of his mind. and as he holds you to his chest, warm hand on the small of your back, he sighs deeply…

a man of action deserves rest

[fairyhaos]

thinking about baker!mingyu trying to come up with a new recipe for his bakery but when hes looking for the samples he baked last night in the fridge.... they're gone.... into y/n's stomach lol (midnight cravings am i right)

HAHAHAHHA mingyu can't leave any baked goods around the house bc he knows that you'll just snatch up any pastry you can find (what can you say, you're a sucker for your boyfriend's baking) but the idea just so happened to come to him when he's home, and he has to get it all out of his system before he can go to bed. which he does, and he's so satisfied, putting the tray in the fridge and going to bed.

cut to some hours later—it's like 4am and he's getting a glass of water, only to see you standing hunched suspiciously over the table, your back to him. he can't see what you're doing, but it's clear as anything what it is:

"yn... what are you doing?"

you freeze where you're standing. "um. nothing." your voice is suspiciously muffled.

"is that right? you're not, say, eating a plate of pastries labelled yn, please don't eat, are you?"

"okay, listen," you say, finally turning around and exposing the crumb-riddled plate, "they're just. really really good. and they were just there. and i think im craving a lot of sweet stuff right now, and you always bake the best stuff, and-"

mingyu just laughs, shaking his head and reaching over to hug you placatingly. "it's okay, babe. ill just bake more. there's no need to get worked up."

"oh, good. because i was, like, really worried you'd get mad."

"of course not."

"as an apology, i could help you bake more, maybe?"

"absolutely not. i know the extent of your baking skills. a better apology would be to stay away."

"fair enough. they were really good, by the way."

"thanks. i know, i made them."

"....can you bake me more? right now?"

"....fine."

"yay!"