#sorry i misplaced a tag

[delisae]

Bro I had a queer on and a cunt behind me acted like he was throwing up

[joznii]

obsessed with how faendals expression is permanently stuck as “disgusted” but the second you talk to him he sounds all “😊☺️☺️🥰☺️”

resting bitch face but bro sounds like a cutie patootie the second he’s talking to someone he likes he’s soo real for that

[supercalime]

I’ve been lurking in the 911 tags for only a week and I’m already exhausted of most b*ddie shippers holy shit

[lovesickgoose]

Chester my boy chester

[corrodedcoughin]

okay so your trans art binge-reblog spree yesterday kinda synced up with me having Intense Gender Feels so please allow me the liberty of gently knocking at your inbox again bc I feel a mighty need to unleash some trans!Eddie headcanons on you >.>

imagine the sheer emancipation of Eddie growing out his hair again after he had cut it short when first moving in with Wayne but this time long hair feels different and so, so much freeing bc it's no longer a stupid social expectation rooted in sth that isn't even true about him but instead a personal choice, one deeply connected with the music that comforts and inspires him like nothing else

imagine the freedom of him first realizing he's trans and how things — maybe not all things but at least some of them — suddenly fell into place from just knowing who he is, even if back then he had no opportunity and no safe place to as much as think about trying to socially transition. just feeling like his authentic self for once, without the weight of others' preconceptions about all the arbitrary ways he's supposed to be. he might've been unable to tell anyone at that time but simply having that knowledge to himself was liberating from the years of having felt like there's sth wrong with him. liberating bc now he knew for a fact that there wasn't. how can this be wrong if it made him feel like himself for the first time maybe ever?

imagine him hesitantly knocking on his uncle's door in the middle of the night when he had no choice but to run away from home. imagine the surprise on Wayne's face and all the unyielding unquestioning trust and comfort he's got for him, so thorough and genuine that it only takes him a few days to come out despite the fear. and then Wayne's silence breaks into a question of what name his nephew would like to called then. the words startling soon-to-be-Eddie into a impulsive hug, which is returned with utmost care and with quiet thinking-out-loud rambling of whether Wayne's got any clothes that would fit his nephew and that he would feel comfortable in

imagine the joy when Eddie gets a fake ID from Reefer Rick one day

imagine him making friends with the rest of Corroded Coffin guys and, when he gathers the courage and trust to come out, being met with support, ranging from confusion and a promise to eventually get how any of it works and to respect Eddie's pronouns etc, to deep understanding that hardly needs words bc you know you're being seen for who you actually are

imagine Eddie working on his voice and ending up achieving some success partly thanks to singing along to his favorite songs and trying to learn harsh metal vocals and at first scaring everyone around by going over the top with them until he figures out ways to train his voice to be more masculine sounding without resorting to that kind of harshness (and developing multiple fun vocal stims on the way)

imagine Eddie getting together with Steve and as a bonus gaining the perfect person to get advice from when it comes to figuring out a workout routine for his purposes

imagine the relief of knowing there are multiple people who you can be your authentic self with and who love you for this and would never change a single thing about what makes you yourself

oof well, I kinda carried away "a bit" (meanwhile the Feels have only intensified further whoops) and these are in no particular order but I really hope you'll like this humble offering. have a restful fulfilling weekend💜

LIAM!!!! LIAM!!!!! I am always ready for transing the narrative (been in some gender struggles too so let’s be in this together 🤝) I’m going to be running commentary replying so if it’s incoherent or accidentally cover something said later I’m sorry!!

- the hair!! YES!!! I feel like he had long hair before and felt pushed into have short hair in order to be taken seriously in his identity but what he always really wanted to be was ‘just a boy with long hair’ and the more it grows the happier he gets becuase THIS!! THIS!!! Is who he feels like he should have always been!!! This feel RIGHT! When it gets past the length of being ‘acceptable’ for a boy and starts brushing his shoulders he hasn’t never felt more strongly that he is Right. That this is Who He Is, this is Eddie Munson and Eddie Munson is a societal expectation-dodging BOY

- THE ACCEPTANCE AND REALISATION!!! What if he was going around as a child saying kid stuff like ‘when will I grow a beard?’ And being hushed by his elders (before Wayne). Going along with what was given to him, be it toys or clothes because his family didn’t have a lot so he’s not going to ask for more but knowing that they didn’t feel right. That he was performing a character for these people and hoping it would be enough for them, for himself. It’s not, something still feels wrong and he can’t figure out. But then, then he gets the keys to the kingdom, he moves in with Wayne and Wayne gives him some money and sets him loose in the thrift shop. At the start he sifts through the girl’s rails but all of the sizes are wrong for him. So wayne just suggests the boys racks because hey it’s just T-shirts and we need to get you stuff that fits. He guides eddie to the plain T-shirts, not thinking much of it. Not thinking it’ll be a Realisation in the young mind of his nephew. Eddie goes home with 2 boys T-shirts that day and from then on gravitates to exclusively wearing them. Next thrift shop visit eddie makes a beeline to the boys section and doesn’t look back.

- AHHH WAYNE AND COMING OUT I LOVE YOUR VERSION!!! What about Wayne passing a couple of shirts on to Eddie? A hat too? And a belt because god knows Eddie’s buying the jeans that hide his hips and needs something to hold them up. Wayne starts calling eddie ‘son’ and ‘boy’. Every time it’s like Christmas lights have been turned on behind his eyes. He feels dizzy with it, can’t contain himself, has to clench his fists to stop himself from shaking becuase this? This feels right. It fees Correct and knowing Wayne is here with him is the ballast he needs to secure himself on this unpredictable ride.

-CORRODED COFFIN SAYING ITS SO METAL OF HIM. (I personally also hc Gareth as trans so I like to think that Jeff and Freak are always ready to be Boys and show them Boy Stuff. Like alongside band practice they had Boy Practice at the start and now they can burp the alphabet in harmony and can armpit fart guitar solos and play fight and are just GOOFY)

- eddie going to a gig or band practice and then the next morning waking up with a slightly wrecked voice that he /loves/. He surreptitiously tries to maintain it, shouting lyrics in his room and just screaming sometimes but it starts to get painful and he accepts he has to find a different way. He listens to the radio with Wayne, asks to go with him when Wayne’s work friends plan a couple of drinks in one of their yards. Eddie gets to go to a couple, gets to listen to Wayne’s country and rock radio stations. Gets to hear these men talking and tries out phrases he hears when he’s on his own, records them on a tape deck he found in the thrift by luck one day. Records and re-records until he gets it right. Until he can prank call principle Higgins and get shouted at down the phone ‘I’ll find out who your father is boy! He’ll have your hide!’ The peak is when he goes into scoops and gets everything he wanted ‘hey man, how’s it going?’ From the offensively cute sailor with the big hands and strawberry sweet smile

- WORKOUT SUPPORT STEVE. YES. YES ABSOLUTELY!!! Steve showing him that he can’t just hit upper body every day, that he has to get everywhere. That he needs to make his core thicker if he wants that boy look. That working on his quads and calves will help, he promises it won’t leave him a big butt and tiny waist. (Not unless he wants Steve’s routine, that boy is going to work on his ass-ets okay?) eddie doing his first full push up with Proper Form and feeling the muscles in his back move and thinks yes. This is Good. God knows he’s not great at sticking to it but when it serves a purpose and it means he gets to ogle his boyfriend? Kind of a win win

- TBE LAST POINT!!! Yes!!! Eddie living in subconscious fear for so long that he pushes the very notion of being a Boy down. so far Down and Away that he won’t ever let it see the light of day. Or so he thinks. He tells himself that he is fine, that this is fine. But it isn’t and he doesn’t know what feels wrong. Until it slowly starts to change at a glacial speed. He tries different things. Starting only in his room, makes jokes that he thinks he can get away with in front of Wayne. Pushes it further, does more Boy things with corroded coffin. Sees that it’s okay? They are okay with it? With how he is? Sees that Wayne just nods at him and doesn’t make a fuss? That Wayne’s friends don’t bay an eye somehow? (Sure some guys at work do, but Wayne makes sure they know where their opinions aren’t wanted. That Wayne and his group aren’t to be taken lightly on the topic of Wayne’s nephew)

Eddie experiencing so much acceptance and love and there being so venom in it. No ‘waiting’ for it all to pass and Eddie to go back to ‘normal’. Eddies never been normal and that’s a badge he starts to wear with pride. With defiance. Knowing that he has everyone he could ever need how could be not?

[hikayunas]

[writeouswriter]

Making out with Grady Hendrix’s book cover designer but physically fighting Grady Hendrix himself 😔

[piningpercussionist]

(ooc)

was NO ONE gonna mention the accidental DM posting?? 😭 apologies fellas

[wormsdyke]

curious as to why i feel insane in several very specific ways. surely it’s unrelated to the fact that i have forgotten to take the medication that makes me not feel insane for several days

[hexiewrites]

make this inn our own: chapter twelve

for @thefreakandthehair’s spicy six winter prompt challenge! thank you @reindeerrobin for the graphic & for everything!!!!

deja vu??? nope! it's a double chapter day, baybeeee!!!

read it on ao3

chapter twelve: lavender haze

“So,” Chrissy started, as she spun on one heel in the lobby of the inn, half eaten scone in hand. “When you told me that all it needed was a couple coats of paint and a, what were your words, ‘bit of a clean’, that was….?”

“A lie?” Steve tried, and flashed her one of his charming sheepish smiles, one hand coming up to scratch at his head in the way he knew made him look like a cute innocent child, like he thought that was going to get him out of anything.

“A lie, Steven!” she snapped, and jabbed her pointer finger into his sternum. “Why didn’t you tell me how much work there was? I would have-“

Steve raised an eyebrow, a challenge. “You would have come to Hawkins, Chrissy.”

She threw her hands in the air, flinging scone crumbs as she did so. “Yes, you little moron, of course I would have! I could have helped, and-“

“But you hate it here, Chrissy! And what about Ness? And her talent show? And besides, I love you very much, but you’re not exactly known for being good with your hands,” Steve pointed out, with another smile. Chrissy had no bite—hell, she barely had a bark—and he always knew how to take advantage of that.

keep reading on ao3

[planetaryupscaled]

Misplaced Comfort

Male OC x Kim Minjeong (Winter)

Tags: 2k, creampie, dub con, stepsister, tw

Kim Minjeong knew she had fucked up the moment she walked through the door. The way he sat in the chair, feet propped on the table, eyes cold and looking at her from head to toe. His gaze moved up and down her body, scrutinizing every detail of her outfit with a judgment that made her stomach turn.

“Minjeong.” He says her name in a way that makes her want to cower, but she doesn’t.

“Do you have an understanding of how men’s minds work?”

She’s at a loss for words. She just stood there, holding his gaze.

“Do you know how men perceive you when you dress like that? Where the fuck were you?” His words are harsh, but his tone is smooth and collected, his gravely voice low yet sharp.

“You’re not my father,” she snaps back. Definitely not her most mature move.

“I’m your brother.”

“Step-brother,” she corrected him.

“Just because you are older than me doesn’t give you parenting rights.”

She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. He stands slowly and deliberately begins to walk toward her. She steps back subconsciously until her back is against the closed door.

“Say you’re sorry,” he says softly. Eyes fixed on hers.

Minjeong felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

“I’m not saying sor…”

Her voice is cut off as he shoves two fingers into her mouth and down her throat. His other hand wraps gently but firmly around her neck, pushing her against the door. He towers above her, looking down at her.

“Somebody didn’t raise you right,” he says with that condescending tone she know so well.

In a burst of anger, she violently pushed him away, her nails digging into his arms, though his strength is unmoveable.

To her surprise, he lets go of her neck and slides his thick fingers from her mouth. But she can tell from the look on his face that he’s not done.

“If you were a smart girl, you would’ve bitten her fingers,” he says, and she feels a hard slap across her cheeks, bringing tears to her eyes. She looked back up at his chiseled face, trembling.

“I fucking hate you!” she hisses, surprised by the toxicity in her own voice.

“Say that again,” he warns, his voice dark and low.

“I. Fucking. Hate. You!” she snarls between her teeth.

His hand suddenly covers her mouth, sending the back of her head slamming against the door. He flips her around so her back is now facing him with his hand on the back of her head, and her face is pressed against the door. He holds her in place with one hand while undoing his belt with the other.

“Stop,” she choked on a broken whimper.

He forcefully wraps his belt around both of her wrists, trapping them behind her. She looks behind her, and their gaze’s lock. Minjeong shakes her head, her eyes welling with tears.

With a look of defiance on his face, he pulls out his thick cock which is filled with veins just like his hands. Minjeong never understood how it fit inside her tiny body.

With one hand on the back of her head and her face pressed against the door, his other hand begins to slide up and down his hardness. “Lick it,” he commands.

She struggle against the binds. “You’re fucking sick,” she sobs.

“Lick the fucking door,” he repeats quietly. She began licking and kissing the door, as if it were a person.

“Wouldn’t your daddy be proud,” he purrs, his hand working up and down his hardness.

Disgusting. She felt shame rising in her chest, but she was aching between her legs.

“His little girl, being slutty in a--” He interrupts his speech to slap her again. - “--fucking club full of men!?”

she flinches as his hand strokes her face.

“I didn’t even dance on anyone,” Minjeong sob.

He turns her around and lifts her up against the door, her legs straddling him, her skirt riding up to expose her lacy white underwear. Her hands are still locked behind her back, painfully pressed against the door. He keeps her there, his cock perilously poised at her entrance.

“Tell me what you said again,” he commands.

“I said I fucking hate you,” she exclaimed. He pushed her underwear to the side exposing her smooth-shaven pussy.

“That’s not how you are supposed to talk to me,” he whispers.

“No,” she whispers. “Please stop…stop...”

He enters her tightness, slowly pushing in. Minjeong felt as if she were being ripped in half. He covers her mouth as she screams into the rough palm of his hand.

He begins to work in and out of her. She feels like he’s in her stomach, tearing apart her organs. He works into her expertly, fucking her slowly as if they were making love. his abdomen’s taut skin grinding against her clit.

“Say it again,” he hisses, withdrawing his hand from her mouth.

“I fucking hate you,” she said in a low, soft voice, and began to cry, tears adorned her beautiful face.

He pushes into her hard and slow, enunciating each word to match his rhythm. “Say. You. Are. Sorry.”

“I’m sor--”

He shoves his fingers down her throat again, silencing her.

“Who taught you to choke on a man’s cock?”

“Answer me.” He asks sharply.

“You,” she cries out desperately. Her voice breaks, and muffled as his thick fingers invade her mouth.

He moves even closer to her face. His fingers leave her mouth, but he uses one hand to crush her face. Their eyes are locked. The other hand is on her hips, lifting her up and down, holding her against the door.

“Who fucking taught you how to take it like a good girl?”

Minjeong was cobbing uncontrollably. She can hear it in her voice and feel hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You,” she cried.

He releases her face. “Open your mouth.” She obeys, and he spits into her mouth. She swallowed it, a pang of humiliation marking her heart.

“Who. Fucking. Owns. You?” He asks, his calm quiet voice slowly getting louder, pushing into her in time with each word.

“Whose spit do you swallow?” Who stretches your cunt until you beg him to stop? Who comes to you every fucking day?

“Y- Yours,” she whispers.

“Say it,” he growls.

“You fucking own me,”

“Louder.”

“You fucking OWN me!” she screams.

“Shhhh,” he murmurs, putting his hand over her mouth again. This is a sick game. He begins to pick up speed, his abs grinding into her clit, taking her closer and closer to a place she refuses to go.

“I own you,” he says sweetly. His eyes darken suddenly.

“So tell me how the FUCK I don’t have parenting rights,” he hisses, his voice as loud as she’s ever heard it.

“Tell me!”

Her voice is muffled beneath his hand, and her attempts to speak are unrecognizable.

“I can’t hear you,” he mutters. His eyes flash with dark pleasure.

“If you don’t answer me, I’m going to put a finger all the way up to that little ass of yours,” he purrs.

Minjeong screamed against his hand, begging with her eyes. He fucked her faster and faster, but remains rhythmic and calculated.

“That’s not a good enough answer,” he says.

Minjeong felt his thick finger at the entrance of her ass, and began to push in as she struggled against her binds.

“Kiss my hand,” he says.

Minjeong began to feverishly lap at the palm of his hand, the hand that silenced her, doing everything she could to get him to stop. Instead, she felt his finger push up into her asshole. She cannot believe it fits. She choked on her own screams.

Instinctually, she bite his hand.

She barely hurt his thick, calloused skin, but the look on his face as he removes his hand from her mouth is priceless.

Until it isn’t.

His surprise fades into a dark, intense anger. He begins to push a second finger into her ass at the same time he pushed deeper into her love tunnel, his cock head nudge at entrance of her cervix. Reactively, she begins blubbering.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m sorry. Please don’t. Not two.”

“Sorry what?” He asks sharply. He holds his fingers like a gun, waiting her answer. She trembles and hesitates for a moment, “Don’t make me say it. Please don’t make me say it,” she told to herself.

He then pushes his second finger up into her asshole.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Minjeong’s hoarse voice cracks. The phrase, which may be corny in some contexts, comes off her tongue raw.

His eyes light up. He enjoys her embarrassment. She knows he does.

“I’m going to cum inside you,” he says smoothly and authoritatively.

“And you’re going to cum for me.”

“No… I won’t.” Minjeong remains defiant.

“Say you’re sorry again,” he murmurs as he continues fucking her faster and harder against the closed door.

She moaned. The friction on her clit is too rhythmic and calculated; she feels her heartbeats and the tingles in her stomach. He gets closer to her face than before, with his open mouth so close to her.

“There we go,” he murmurs.

“Cum for me…” He said looking into her eyes.

“No,” she whimpered, and at that moment she cumming, her pussy grip tightening even more around his cock, a small noise of broken pleasure escaping her throat.

He bares his teeth, brows furrowing, as Minjeong feels his cock throbbing, bursting his load inside her unprotected pussy, owning her insides.

He falls against her, and she against him, both out of breath.

He takes her in his arms and carries her to the bed, laying her down. He unlatch the belt from her wrists. He lies beside her, carefully watching her with his eyes.

Minjeong is weakened from the fucking he gave her; she can barely move. His hand reaches out and touches her face. She flinched.

“Shhh,” he says with genuine concern on his face. “It’s over.”

She looked up at this man, this loving and perfect man who had always protected her and who could transform into a complete animal in a heartbeat.

“I know,” she whispers, her voice smaller than usual.

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I do it because I love you. Because I’m protective. You know that right?”

A strange, misplaced comfort envelopes her entire body. A wave of exhaustion rises up her spine.

“Answer me,” he says, his voice gentle.

“I know, it’s because you love me,” she says.

“Say it again,” he says, his voice aching with love as he observes her every movement.

“It’s because you love me,” Minjeong repeated.

Her eyelids are heavy, and she closes them. She feels his caring eyes on her as she falls asleep, her mind and body tired as they always are after an argument.

She couldn’t deny that deep down, she found peace in his violence.

[ferritins]

SWEETER KIND OF PAIN | D. GRAYSON

SUMMARY: the first clue that something is wrong happens when you walk through the door to find that Dick is a) still in his Nightwing uniform and b) touchy, even for him.

WARNINGS/NOTES: dubcon non-s*xual physical touch (cuddle pollen).

The first clue that something is wrong is when you walk through the door to find that Dick is a) still in his Nightwing uniform and b) touchy.

Touchy is an understatement.

Dick’s hands are everywhere; palming the handle of your hipbone over your pyjama shorts, smoothing over the wings of your shoulder blades, sweeping up the length of your sides, and sit e, he’s always been tactile with you, but this is a lot, even for him.

The near-desperation and intensity of the way he’s seeking your skin gives you pause.

“Dickie, hold up.” You say, voice soft but hands braced firm on his shoulders.

Dick visibly shudders as he withdraws his hands from where they’re perched on your hips, something desolate creeping into his expression.

“Sorry, I’m sorry—“

“Hey, don’t apologise. This is just… a lot, even for you, and I need to know what’s up so I know how to help.”

“Cuddle pollen. Ivy tagged me earlier.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” You say, empathy a heavy stone on your sternum.

Dick has described to you before the gnawing, hollow cold of cuddle pollen, the ache of skin hunger; touch starvation, dialled up to twenty. Just hearing it described sent goosebumps down your back; to think that Dick is experiencing that now stops up your throat.

“Come on.” You say, taking his hand in yours and heading to your bedroom. “Let’s get you out of your suit, then we can cuddle.”

Dick clings to your hand like a lifeline. His hands return to your hips, long fingers sweeping under your pyjama shirt on the search for skin as you unzip your his suit at the neck.

He groans, full-throated, as you push his suit down to his hips, revelling in your touch, the sound making your ears hot.

You tug his pyjama shirt over his head, and help him tug down the legs of his suit til he’s just in his boxers.

The brief loss of contact sets him to shivering.

You wince, sympathetic.

As soon as you’re under your duvet, bare legs tangled with Dick’s, his body goes slack with relief, two hundred pounds of muscle and sinew pressing into you like he wants to work himself subdermal, live inside of you.

One hand slips under your shirt, pushing it up to smooth over the soft expanse of your belly; the other sweeps long, slow, proprietary strokes over your thigh where it’s thrown over his.

“You’re so soft, baby, feel so good.” He mutters into your neck, pressing butterfly kisses into the delicate skin. You’re not entirely sure he even knows what he’s saying, most likely endorphin drunk.

“.”Flatterer.” You laugh. “Is this helping?”

You valiantly ignore the way your voice quavers at the end of your question as his fingers catch on your waistband before sweeping back up over your belly.

“Yeah.” Dick sighs. “Thank you.”

Cocooned in warm blankets, held by someone you love; it’s no wonder that you find yourself fighting sleep.

Tomorrow, you’ll need to talk, to assuage his misplaced guilt, and set some boundaries for the next time something like this occurs.

For tonight though — touching and being touched, able to give intimacy and comfort in a way deeper than mere sensuality — you’re happy just to be here, to hold Dick close.

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. there's nothing more romantic than travelling halfway across the world for the girl you love... even if it is two years late.

wc. 3.4k

tags. none really, yn is described as shorter than megumi, possible ooc for EVERYONE, lowkey forgot how to write halfway through, possible spelling mistakes and plotholes (pls still like my writing i beg)

a/n. im sorry i never really got round to answering the comments on the last post but i have added everyone to the taglist who asked. so i did write two endings but one was bad SO i stuck to this one only <3 i hope this is the right end to the series and thank you sm for the support over the last few months!! i will have a 'spin-off-ish' series focused on the students making the videos in the first place which i will add the link to on this chapter once it's up. this is for @ilovejugs69 ly pookie

previous part / series masterlist

“this is such a bad plan.” 

megumi let out a small sigh, resting his head back on the leather of the plane’s seat. an economy seat – much to gojo’s dismay – but there hadn’t been much time to consider other options, bar gojo buying himself a personal private jet and hiring a pilot all in the space of less than an hour. 

the dark-haired student clutched the arm rests as he felt his stomach churn in knots as the reality of their decision sunk in. it was a very last minute and muddled plan but gojo was desperate to see you again and megumi wanted nothing more than to have his family back – so when gojo offered to take them both to the other side of the world to find you, he agreed a little too quickly. spontaneity was not his thing and with each passing second he was remembering why.

gojo shuffled himself back in his seat, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he struggled with the small gap for his longer-than-average legs. if his height wasn’t drawing the pair any attention (which it certainly was), the uniforms and the sorcerer’s blindfold definitely were. he didn’t need his six eyes to feel the stares of strangers. 

“i’ve never had a bad plan in my life.” 

megumi scoffed at the declaration, rolling his eyes at the white haired sorcerer’s misplaced confidence. like it wasn’t gojo’s idea to send megumi on that mission alone that ultimately resulted in yuuji swallowing sukuna’s finger or his idea to prank nanami on his birthday that got both himself and the first years all detention. 

“don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” gojo lightly swatted megumi’s arm, wiggling one of his fingers in front of the younger boy’s face. “your mother will think i’m a shit dad and won’t come back.” megumi ignored the tightening in his chest at the casualness of gojo’s words.

“you are a shit dad,” he retorted, closing his eyes and willing the next seven hours to go by faster than they were. he didn’t hate flying, but he wasn’t the biggest fan, and the nerves that were building up alongside the nonstop chatter from the man beside him were definitely not helping.

gojo gasped and megumi felt him jostling in the seat next to him, he could only imagine the dramatics his teacher was pulling in public. it was best he kept his eyes closed. 

“that wasn’t very nice. god, teenagers and their angst these days.” 

megumi heard gojo mumbling loudly under his breath and there was no doubt in his mind that there was a cheshire grin on gojo’s face, daring him to take the bait and bicker like the mature adult he was. 

however annoying he may have found him, megumi knew that gojo was just as nervous as he was. the two, however, were just polar opposites in all aspects. so while megumi just wanted to spend the next few hours trying to sleep and hope he’d have the courage to face you when he woke up, gojo wanted to play avoidance by teasing him as if they weren’t travelling halfway across the world for you.

when megumi didn’t respond, to gojo’s disappointment, a silence settled between the two. with his hands now stuffed in the pockets of his uniform and head almost on gojo’s shoulder, the dark haired sorcerer attempted to finally fall asleep.

“do you think she’s mad at me?” megumi asked quietly after about five minutes. 

gojo hummed thoughtfully, looking down at the teenager almost asleep on his shoulder. “she has no reason to be mad at you,” he said in the most reassuring tone he could muster.

“she’s never messaged me back,” megumi countered.

“at least yours still go through.” gojo huffed lightly, an attempt at brightening megumi’s mood at the expense of himself but it only left both more unsettled at their predicament. he knocked his knee into the younger boy’s gently. “get some sleep, this is going to be a long flight.”

“if you just take a seat here, i will go see if ma’am is available. it’s so lovely to meet her family finally.” a woman dressed in formal attire gestured towards a small lobby waiting room with a bright smile. 

there was no one else in there apart from one middle-aged guy with a briefcase, newspaper in hand. gojo thanked the woman, hand on megumi’s shoulder as he led him into the back corner of the white minimalist room.

the sun had set by the time they’d landed and found your office building – something that gojo had forced shoko to send him. he hadn’t even had a chance to tell her what they were doing before he’d gotten on the plane so after she had a go at him for leaving her out of the loop and not bringing her too, she sent across the necessary details with demands for regular updates. 

“i bet she’s going to call security,” megumi sighed as he dropped himself down into the black leather seat, resting his head back against the wall behind him. between school and the plane journey, he’d been awake for nearly twenty hours and the stiff seat he was on felt like a pile of feathers. he was going to fall asleep before he’d even had the chance to see you.

gojo crossed one leg over the other, hands crossed behind his head. the teenager wanted to elbow him for his calm posture – he could have as well, he’d dropped his infinity the second the two had entered the building. the second the older sorcerer had stepped into the building he knew you were here, recognising the cursed energy that brought him a familiar comfort he’d missed. “why would she?”

megumi snapped his head in his direction, eyes opening to give him an incredulous look, “why would you say you’re her husband?” 

gojo waved a hand dismissively, “i basically am–”

“was. several years ago.” megumi countered and gojo’s mouth dropped open at the audacity of his pupil to point out the obvious facts.

rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, gojo began to stand up and megumi was close to cracking a smile at his behaviour. the delirium of not sleeping was beginning to sink in. “okay, kid–”

“you’re here.”

gojo’s sleeves dropped just as fast as megumi stood up from his seat, both more alert than they had been all day. suddenly, the uneasy feeling megumi had had on the plane didn’t seem so bad, this was so much worse.

you’d barely changed since you’d left, bar your hair being a few inches longer. if the two looked closely enough at you, they’d realise you were just as wrecked with nerves as they were as you struggled to stop your hands from shaking.

when the receptionist had first come up to tell you that your husband and son were here to see you, your initial reaction had been to say she’d made a mistake… until the cryptic message shoko had sent you thirty minutes earlier started to make a lot more sense. 

she was the only one you’d maintained regular contact with after you’d left. initially you had gone on a complete no contact with everyone, refusing to even acknowledge that you had a life and a family in japan. you were scared and you’d chosen the coward's way out by running. it felt wrong to still have strings binding you to a life that was no longer yours.

but you missed her and you worried constantly about gojo and megumi, so you’d slowly built up messaging her once a month to every few days just to know everyone was still alive.

you had desperately wanted to take megumi with you but you didn’t have it in you take him away from his sister and, despite how you’d laid into him about how even he had limitations, you knew megumi was safer with gojo than you. in america, you were vulnerable to curse users and curses alike without the protection of any other sorcerers or specialist schools to help you.

the three of you probably looked like idiots to the other man in the room, all staring at each other too afraid to make the first room. it felt surreal to all be together again. you were afraid your longing to see them again had reached a point of insanity, and they were afraid of spooking you if they got too close too quickly.

megumi was the first one to make a move, stepping around the rows of seats and the centre coffee table till he stood a metre from you. “hi.”

your hand covered your mouth as you had to tilt your head up slightly to keep eye contact with the boy you’d raised since he was only a fraction of your height. you may not have changed but megumi had – both his height and voice – and the guilt of leaving him behind was overwhelming.

���oh my god, you’re so much taller than me.” you moved closer to him to gently grab ahold of his arms as you took in how much he had grown. there wasn’t a day that had gone by that you didn’t regret and feel guilt for leaving megumi and you only hoped he understood why you left him so suddenly. taking a step back, you gestured to his uniform, “what’s jujutsu high like?”

the words were bittersweet. what had leaving achieved apart from heartache? megumi was still a jujutsu student and gojo was still japan’s lifeline. maybe you would live a longer life in america, but was the life you had now worth the one you’d left behind?

“it’s…” megumi hesitated before clearing his throat, “it’s okay. there’s two other first years, yuuji and nobara. they’re alright.” you smiled at his words, flashbacks of your own childhood crossing your mind as you remembered the innocence of your first year. it was fun being in a class with two prodigies, you were mini celebrities in a world of rich and powerful sorcerers.

“i’m glad you’ve made some friends, megs,” the nickname rolled off your tongue too naturally and if megumi closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend that you were all still in japan and you were just catching up after being away on a prolonged mission. you glanced to the other sorcerer in the room who had remained silent up until this point – although he had silently made his way over. “i’m going to go speak with satoru in my office and then can i take you out for dinner? to talk properly?”

megumi nodded a little too eagerly, “yeah, please. i’ll just wait here.”

“perfect. satoru?” the acknowledgement was all the strongest sorcerer needed to be following behind you, keeping a distance of several paces as you led him inside your office.

gojo rested his forearm against one of the large ceiling height windows in your office that overlooked the city. you had to be at least twenty stories up and the blaring of car horns was simply a hum, vehicles appearing as mini red and yellow dots on the busy roads below.

“nice view.” 

it was the first words he’d uttered in your presence and despite him being the one to initiate the venture to you, he had no idea what to say. this was likely his only chance to convince you to come back and he may have already screwed up by waiting as long as he had.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as you pushed your door shut, leaving the two of you in the privacy of your small office. it was nothing special; a chair, a desk with paperwork piling up and no photos whatsoever. there was no trace that you even existed beyond these four walls.

“don’t i at least get an ‘i miss you’? i just travelled over ten hours for you,” he said lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room but your voice was no longer as soft as it was when you spoke with megumi. the teenager had done nothing wrong – he was part of the reason you left.

“it’s been two years.” he didn’t have to turn around to know that your arms were probably crossed in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side as you waited for him to explain himself. except he thinks his past offences of stealing all of the sweets before halloween were a little more forgivable than letting you leave.

his hand turned to a fist as he dropped it from the window, turning around to look at you properly. “i know.”

both of you stared at one another, neither of you speaking as you took the other in.

“you chose them over me,” you accused. them being both the higher-ups and the whole of jujutsu itself. you’d given him a chance to have a normal life – a natural life in which you’d grow old together and die of old age – and he’d chosen the short life where he’d likely die before he turned thirty.

“you knew what you were signing up for,” he said and there was no malice behind the words though they still frustrated you. he was right to an extent, he’d sat you down after you’d finished school, just before he’d taken in megumi and given you an out. you chose to stay, fully believing that the two of you had already gone through your worst.

“i didn’t realise i’d always be on the losing side.”

“we weren’t always losing–”

you stepped closer to gojo as you held out your hand, counting each disaster after the other with your fingers, “haibara died, we almost died, geto defected, we took in megumi and the tensions between your clan and the zen’ins got ten times worse. you said you wanted to change jujutsu society and what had we done? i never knew if you’d come home to me after missions, it made me feel sick.”

“how do you think i felt coming home to a note?” you could count on your hands the amount of times you had seen gojo angry – and while he wasn’t all the way there he was teetering on the edge as he frustratedly lifted off his blindfold, throwing it onto your desk. in the same way you’d been desperate for him to hear what you were saying before you’d left, he was equally as desperate for you to hear him now. to see that he was here. “megumi? at least geto left for a purpose, you just left.”

it was an unfair dig – geto had committed mass murder, after all – but similar to the one that you’d pulled on him two years ago.

you clicked your tongue as you tried not to make it obvious how badly that made you want to cry, holding your hands up in surrender. “was it so wrong to want a life where i didn’t go to work thinking i would die? to want a future?”

“you were my future.” he sounded sad as he uttered them, and it looked foreign to see the gojo satoru look so dejected. there were only inches between the two of you now and despite the fact he towered over you, he appeared so small as he continued, “was i ever yours?”

memories of your late teenage years and early adulthood play out as a montage: from your first meeting when you’d both gotten lost on the train to school, to the tears you spilled as you finished writing your note and closed the door to his apartment for the last time. 

“of course you were.” your voice was shaky, no longer holding any bite. until the day you’d left, since you were sixteen, you’d never envisioned a life without him.

gojo’s hand reached out to push your hair back from your neck, the little white scars still tarnishing your flawless skin. it was taking all of your resolve to not collapse into his arms and have him hold you like you knew he would. you were sure you’d believe him this time if he told you he could protect everyone, that he was in fact able to be in six places at once and still come out on top. “come back with us please.”

“satoru…” you dragged off, looking away as you fought between listening to your rationale that reminded you that nothing had really changed and your heart that missed being in love.

“just come back,” he repeated, “are you going to tell me you’ve found someone else? that you enjoy your life here?” it was wrong and selfish, he knew it, to be convincing you the way he was – to even be here full stop – but he missed you and he wasn’t ready to let you walk away again.

“i can’t lose you.” hesitantly you pressed your hands to his chest. for a second he was scared you were going to push him away, but you didn’t, fingers tightening around the material of his uniform.

“don’t be silly and travel halfway across the country then.” his voice was just above a whisper now as he brushed his nose against yours. “hey, look at me properly.”

you complied without any hesitation – you always did when it came to him. two years of no contact but your body still reacted on muscle memory to the sound of his voice. never in your life had you ever seen eyes like his, of course you hadn’t, and you were still taken aback by the full blue colour as he gazed down at you.

“tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.” you did want him to. “tell me you want me to walk out of this room and not turn back and i’ll do it.” he wouldn’t have left without you.

“i missed you,” you whispered, and that was all he needed to duck his head down to let your lips meet. gojo’s hand slipped round to the back of your neck, tugging you impossibly closer as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. you missed this, you missed him, and you were going to find it impossible to let go of him again.

only when your lungs ached to breathe did you force yourself to pull back from your ex boyfriend. gojo’s eyes were still focused on your lips and you didn’t doubt that if it were up to him, he’d be leaning to kiss you again. it was only the light push against his chest that held him back.

“what are we doing?” you asked, voice wavering from both the kiss and nerves. whilst there was no doubt in your mind that gojo was who you wanted, you had many reservations about reentering jujutsu society.

“about to ditch this place and go back to japan on a plane. all three of us.”

you brows furrowed together, “but–”

gojo held a finger up your lips, his other hand slipping into his back pocket, pulling out three plane tickets. “i already got your ticket, you don’t want it to go to waste do you?”

you lightly hit his arm and smiled up at him. he was grinning now and it didn’t need to be said aloud – he was yours again (though he’d never really stopped being such) and you were coming home. “that confident?”

“surprised you were able to resist me this long.” he pecked your cheek this time, a hint of tease in his tone like he hadn’t needed megumi to convince him to even enter your office building in the first place.

you let his joke slide with no rebuttal. “are you coming to dinner?” you hoped you hadn’t been keeping megumi too long.

“do you want me at dinner?” gojo asked.

you reached across to your desk to grab ahold of his blindfold and passed it to him. as much as you loved being able to see his eyes, you’d rather not be spending your first twenty four hours with him in bed complaining about a splitting headache. “i’m sure megs won’t mind. plus you can pay,” you added with a wink.

gojo raised an eyebrow, lips tugging up at the corners into a slight smirk, “oh so that’s the real reason why you missed me?”

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super sorry if ive missed anyone!

[vbecker10]

Hi V!

How are you? I have add and i havent seen very many fics with someone who has add/adhd so i wanted to send this to you since i know you will do amazing with it! I have a fic idea request for you:

You are a new recruit to join the avangers one day you are in the gym with steve learning a new skill but you can't focuse or follow details instructions thanks to your add/adhd later on you are in your room trying to get a list of to dos but you get frustrated/can't get the chores done/distracted

Easily Distracted (Part 1)

Part 2 / Part 3 (in progress)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader (Y/N) - reader has ADHD

Summary: You've recently graduated from the SHIELD Training Academy and you couldn't be more excited or more nervous to start working as a probationary agent. You study and train, trying every way possible to prepare yourself for your evaluation in three months but your ADHD threatens to derail your progress, and so does Loki. Captain Rogers sees you struggling to succeed and steps in to help you in any way he can.

Warnings: Self-doubt, Loki being an ass, mild swearing (which Steve does not approve of), feeling like giving up

Background: Female reader has ADHD (Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder) with the following symptoms: inattention, hyperactivity, difficulty listening and finishing tasks, losing important things frequently, becoming distracted or sidetracked easily, trouble following instructions, difficulty staying organized and managing time

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this request @animnerd! I absolutely love it. Sorry it took me so long, I kept getting distracted while I worked on this one which I think is super ironic lol. We talked about this a bunch and I ended up tweaking the ask a bit to make it a longer story 🙂 I really hope you like this 💚

Thank you so much for these amazing dividers @jiyascepter I absolutely love them!

Also, this is officially my first Steve Rogers x reader fic so I hope you all like it! I just ended up tagging a few people from my Loki list cause I don't have a Steve list 🫣

Day 1

You take a seat in the middle of the bus and huff a sigh of relief that you are finally on your way. The Avengers Tower is just under half an hour from your small, one bedroom apartment but it's all you can afford right now. It's only for a few months, you remind yourself with a hopeful smile.

Pulling your backpack onto your lap, you unzip the largest pocket and begin to double cheek that you have everything. One of the more annoying parts of your ADHD is how unorganized it can make you feel, this often results in you forgetting or losing things. The more important the item is, the easier it is for you to misplace it apparently. You mumble to yourself quietly as you feel around for your laptop, pens, ID badge and various other items you thought would be helpful today.

You sit back, bag still unzipped with your hands frozen as you think, I can't believe it's actually my first day as a probationary agent for SHIELD! I'm going to meet the Avengers and train with them, go on missions with them- your thoughts suddenly shift and you slump in your seat. If I make it to the end of the three month probationary period.

You survived the two year long SHIELD Training Academy, but just barely. Having ADHD made following detailed instructions, focusing on long lectures and completing multi-step tasks extremely difficult. You struggled daily but never gave up, passing all of your exams and earning one of twenty probationary positions available in the New York office.

I can do three more months, you think positively, looking out the window of the bus as the city passes slowly. The next three months will be full of nonstop procedural meetings, group and one on one training sessions and skill assessments until your written exam and field evaluation. Three months to find out if I'm assigned a post as a field agent, an analyst or if I'm going to be fired and have to work mall security for the rest of my life, you think as the bus comes to a brief stop.

You're mind has wandered so far that you don't notice the announcement the driver makes until the bus starts moving again. Looking up from your still wide open bag, you see the Tower get further away and you immediately panic as you realize you missed your stop. You zip your bag quickly and run up the aisle. The driver rolls his eyes at your plea to be let off and opens the door at the next red light. You thank him and take off running the five blocks back, knowing you were already late when you left your apartment.

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

You push through the most annoying revolving doors ever designed and step into the lobby of the Tower. Without stopping, you head for the elevators but a security officer gets up from his desk and yells for you to stop.

"Sorry," you walk back towards him, opening your bag as you dig around for your temporary ID badge. "I work here, I'm new," you explain with an awkward smile.

Happy sighs, sensing your nerves and says, "You need to take a breath and slow down. Scan your badge here then put it on, picture out and don't take it off while you're inside the building."

You nod, trying to take a deep breath as you set your ID badge in the scanner. It flashes red and Happy motions with his hand for you to flip it over. You laugh nervously and flip your ID but the screen lights up red again and you look at him with an awkward shrug. He takes the badge from you, rotates it, scans it and hands it back to you.

"Thanks," you put the lanyard around your neck, fidgeting with it immediately.

"Probationary agent orientation is on the tenth floor with Captain Rogers," he tells you and you nod, looking towards the elevators. "Good luck," he waves at you when you take off and you hear him mutter, "You're gonna need it."

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"You're late," the tall, blonde super soldier says, crossing his muscular arms over his chest when you open the door to the small conference room. The nineteen other probationary agents in your unit turn to look at you as you stand frozen in the doorway.

"I know, I'm sorry, I-" you try to explain, panting hard from running down the hallway.

"I don't want excuses. You are expected to be on time," Captain Rogers says sternly, cutting off your words. He motions to an empty seat in the front of the room, his eyes tracking your path to the chair.

You nod and sit quickly, nearly knocking over the vacant chair with your bag. "Sorry," you offer a hushed apology to the surrounding agents who mumble and whisper to each other. You know most of them from the academy, although not well as you had been too focused on trying to pass to make any friends. They are clearly surprised you were accepted into this program and to be honest, you still are too.

"Agent Y/L/N, is it?" he asks, looking up from his clipboard as he flips back and forth between the pages. You are too absorbed in unpacking your laptop from your bag to realize he is speaking to you. He takes a few steps towards you, waiting for you to look up and acknowledge him but you don't. "Agent Y/L/N," he says a bit louder, towering over you.

You let out a startled gasp and sit up straight, nearly knocking over the coffee of the person next to you when you bump the table. "Yeah?" you ask without thinking and he raises his eyebrow in response, waiting for you to correct yourself. "Um," you clear your throat. "Yes sir, Captain Rogers."

He grips the clipboard tightly with one hand and leans down towards you, his blue eyes never leaving yours. "You will not be late again, understood?"

"Yes sir," you nod in agreement, looking up at the super soldier.

He sighs and turns away from you, clearly annoyed but ready to move on thankfully.

By the time you've set up your laptop, Captain Rogers has started to erase all the information that was written on the large white board. You hold back a groan and try to type the remaining notes as quickly as possible, already knowing you'll need to reorganize them later.

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

By the end of the day, you have officially gotten lost 3 times, been late to all but one of your meetings and left your ID badge in the woman's bathroom twice because the lanyard annoyed you.

You sigh deeply, placing your bag on one of the desks in the furthest corner of the library. You pull out the chair and prepare to settle in for a long night of review like you did every night in the academy. You need to organize all of your notes and study the map of the Tower. You take out your headphones and search on your phone for the right playlist, hoping the music will help you focus.

You open your laptop and think, tomorrow has to be better than today or I won't even make the 1 month mark.

Day 2

A loud banging sound wakes you suddenly and sit up right in surprise, breathing rapidly. You look around, your hands gripping the desk and you spot Loki leaning against a nearby bookshelf with an open book in his hands. He looks down, flipping through the pages slowly seemingly unaware of whatever woke you. You rub your eyes and wonder what made that sound then suddenly it occurs to you that you are still in the library.

"Good morning agent," Loki says, closing his book and tucking it under his arm.

You stretch your back and use one hand to hide a yawn before realizing he smiling at you. "Oh, morning," you respond a bit wary of his friendly expression. You hadn't met Loki yet but you had heard stories about him, everyone in the academy had. You look around for your phone but it's not on the desk, you must have knocked onto the floor while you slept.

"I would have thought you had somewhere to be this morning," he says in a smooth voice.

You see your phone on the floor, pushed back to the wall. "What?" you ask, barely paying attention to him as you get up from the chair and crawl under the desk to reach for your phone.

"It's nearly 10am agent," he says and you lift your head quickly, slamming it on the underside of the desk.

"Fuck!" you yelp and rub your head with one hand, the other grabs your phone and you get to your feet. You gather your belongs as fast as you can, shoving everything into your bag without noticing the smirk that spreads across Loki's face.

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

The second the elevator doors open, you run down the hall towards the gym for your first one on one training session with Captain Rogers. You were already terrified about it, you didn't need to be late too.

You arrive at the gym, completely out of breath and swear when you pull on the door handle and it doesn't budge. "What the hell?" you ask, pulling the handle again then remember you need to swipe your ID badge. You reach for it but the lanyard is missing from your neck. "You've got to be kidding me," you mumble then kneel on the ground, taking off your bag and setting it in front of you. Pulling the contents out, you quickly lose hope that you'll find it.

The door opens and you look up from the ground at Captain Rogers. "Oh, you're here early," he checks his watch.

"I'm early?" you ask utterly confused, sitting back on your heels. You check your phone which you realize you haven't done yet. It's 7:45, an hour and 15 minutes before you even need to be at the Tower.

"Why are you on the ground?" he chuckles a bit, asking his own question in response.

"Oh, sorry sir," you look around at the mess surrounding you and haphazardly shove everything into your bag for the second time in fifteen minutes. "I can't find my ID badge," you admit, getting up off the ground. "Please don't report me, sir, I know where it is," you are suddenly filled with dread.

"I-" he starts to answer to but your attention is pulled away by the sound of two sets of approaching footsteps. You turn your head to see the two Asgardians heading towards you.

Loki smirks devilishly, "Nice to see you again agent."

"You've met?" Steve asks and you almost think he sounds a bit worried as he looks between you and Loki.

"Not formally, no," Loki says, "I ran into our young recruit sleeping in my favorite section of the library."

"You told me it was almost 10," you fold your arms over your chest as your annoyance bubbles to the surface.

"I have been known to lie, little one," he winks and you take an uncomfortable step away from him.

"Leave her alone, Laufeyson," Steve says, stepping between you and Loki. The God of Mischief shrugs, quickly losing interest in you.

"Well I haven't met her yet," Thor says cheerfully. He reaches out to shake your hand, gripping you tightly but not enough to hurt, "Thor."

"Yea, I know," you giggle a bit nervously as the God of Thunder continues to shakes your hand. "I'm Y/N," your eyes flicker to Captain Rogers and you correct yourself quickly. "Agent Y/L/N, probationary agent at the moment."

"Ah, one of Steve's recruites," Thor laughs warmly and pats Steve on the back hard enough to make the super soldier wince. "He'll take good care of you." Thor turns towards the door to the gym as Loki scans his ID badge and the door unlocks.

"Shit," you mumble under your breath, remembering that you misplaced your ID badge. Your outburst draws Steve's attention back to you.

"Language, please," he rubs his shoulder where Thor hit him.

"Right, sorry," you bite your lip knowing that's not the worst swear word you'll use today. "Ah, I mean, sorry sir," you correct yourself again. You had been terrible at remembering to speak properly to officers in the academy and it got you in a lot of trouble.

"You don't need to do that if we aren't in a formal setting," he says and you realize he seems much more relaxed and less terrifying than yesterday. "But why do you keep swearing?"

"I left my ID badge in the library," you point vaguely down the hall even though that's not the way to the library, "But I need my ID badge to get in the library and anywhere else for that matter."

"I'll go with you," he responds in a friendly tone, bending down to hand you a pen you had missed when you were cleaning up your belongings.

"You don't have to, I know you're busy," you tell him but he just smiles. "I'll just... stand awkwardly outside the library until someone shows up," your voice trails off.

"Right, that's a much better idea," he laughs as he starts walking towards the elevator and you put your bag over your shoulder, trying to catch up to him. "I have a feeling you're going to get lost if I let you go by yourself," he looks down at you as you move next to him.

"It's a big building," you try to defend yourself but he just laughs again, shaking his head lightly.

Day 7

"Agent Y/L/N, I would like to speak with you a moment," Loki says when everyone gets up at the end of his lecture.

"Me?" you ask nervously as you freeze in place.

"Is there another Agent Y/L/N here?" he asks in response and a few of your fellow agents laugh quietly.

"No," you answer sheepishly and he nods. You finish packing your laptop into your bag and put it over your shoulder, trying to swallow your fear. Loki makes you uncomfortable even at a distance so saying you're not thrilled about being alone with him is an understatement. The other agents file out of the room, talking amongst themselves, no doubt about you.

You slowly make your way to Loki, dread building with each step. He leans on the desk at the front of the room, his arms folded as he watches you approach. Your anxiousness makes him smile and you break eye contact first when you stumble over your own dragging feet.

"I have been watching you, agent," he tells you and you feel your heart pounding in your chest, "And you do not belong here."

"What?" you ask, you had no idea what Loki wanted to talk to you about but you didn't think this was it. "Yes I do. I-"

"You will not succeed here," he interrupts you and your mouth hangs open at his harsh statement. "I have seen how easily distracted you are, how confused you get with even basic instructions. You are late to everything, you still wander this building utterly lost and you cannot focus."

"I can do better," you tell him, your voice shaky as he lists all the flaws you've been trying to manage. "I made it through the academy, I can do this," you say, trying to convince yourself and the God of Mischief.

"I don't believe that is true," he says.

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

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffing as you reread the email you've typed on your phone. The bus stops at a red light and you look out at the city, lowering your head when it begins to move again.

Sighing deeply, you adjust a spelling mistake then add your name to the bottom of the email. Closing your eyes for a moment, you remember your conversation with Loki a few hours ago as well as the whispered comments from the other agents in your unit. You open your eyes, wiping your tears once more and hit send.

Day 8

"What can I do for you Cap," Agent Hill asks from behind her desk.

"Have you seen Agent Y/L/N? She's usually late for our morning training session but it's been nearly half an hour," Steve says, stepping inside her office.

"Oh, you didn't hear?" she asks, then takes a sip of her coffee.

"Hear what?" Steve shrugs.

"She quit," Agent Hill informs him.

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

You click through the pizza delivery app and order your usual, a TV show you're barely paying attention to plays in the background. You hit the order button and sit back, picking up a fidget cube you keep on your end table.

There is a knock on your door and you laugh as you get up, "Either the pizza guy is getting a big tip or-"

Your voice cuts off when you open the door and see Steve Rogers standing in the hall of your apartment building. "Hello Y/N," he says, his smile warm but it does little to calm the nerves that suddenly spread through you.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[solarnomoon]

ice ice baby - park sunghoon

the first time you went ice skating you almost fell. thankfully a taller guy was there to catch you. surprise surprise, of course it had to be sunghoon, king of the school, ice prince, whatever.

pairing >>> sunghoon x male reader

tags >>> college au, fluff, strangers to friends to more than friends (lovers?), ice skating, falling, idfk, sunghoon being a little forward

author's note >>> LOL hello i apologize for dying. i realize how much i miss this account and ive just been itching to come back so here i am

you knew coming to the ice rink was a mistake to begin with. i mean, come on, your ass was a fucking ice skating virgin: you'd never been before, so why would you even bother starting now?

alas, your best friend had stayed up all night watching yuzuru hanyu videos and all of a sudden, he felt the urge to begin ice skating, compelling you that it's "a calling" and if you guys didn't "drive to partake in the artistic media form that is ice skating" then you'd "lose the individuality that the human spirit guides us with."

...whatever that means.

at least he paid for you! a win's a win sometimes.

"c'mon y/n, you have to get off the railing at some point!" sunoo calls to you, skating in reverse to watch you. the edge had become your safety net, allowing you to actually move somewhat on the ice. sunoo on the other hand had somehow become a pro within the 15 minutes since you guys arrived, being able to skate forwards, backwards, eyes closed, anything possible. he even started gaining an understanding of how to spin, and was attempting to learn how to execute an axel.

you were still just trying to walk normally, not knowing how to know the difference between skating and walking. "sunoo, unfortunately i cannot let go of this fucking railing or i will die."

the boy just laughs at you, eyes rolling back. "you're exaggerating, just let go for one second!" you watch as he leaves you, gliding along the ice as if it was simply made for him.

building up the confidence, you finally stray away from the railing, letting go of your one protection spell from you upright and you on the floor. as you float along the ice, you feel that sense of freedom that sunoo was pestering you about, and you speed up, the skates on your feet becoming an outlet for your vitality.

but unfortunately, you were not yuzuru hanyu, nor were you kim sunoo. you misplace one foot, causing an imbalance in your body. you knew this was it. in front of all of these people, atleast 4 500 for sure, you were going to literally eat shit and die.

as you begin to fall, you brace for impact and close your eyes, but the collapse never happens, and instead, you feel someone's body holding yours, catching the impending descent to the ice.

"you okay?" the guy asks, and only after he said it was when you opened your eyes and looked up at him. though it takes you a moment, a flash of recognition eventually appeared in your brain. park sunghoon. king of the ice, king of the school. the renowned ice prince, the ice skater that competed in the olympics. "oh, y/n. are you okay?"

"y-yeah, sorry," you cover your face with your hands, muttering under your breath, "oh my god i almost died."

apparently it was in fact, not under your breath, because this gets a snicker out of the man, responding to you, "you did not almost die. maybe fall, but death is too much." he grabs you by the arm and skates you both toward the edge again, allowing you to grasp onto your lifeline once more.

"thank you, sunghoon. i'm sorry again for... i don't know. maybe it was a good thing, now you know that i'm shit at ice skating, i don't know how you do this." you observe him with your full attention now, noticing how he's dressed in a basic outfit with a beanie and headphones as if he knew that this would be a simple activity for him. not only this, but he has sunglasses on, presumably to hide his demeanor: he's kind of a celebrity around here.

"it's alright y/n, i told you already. plus, you're not that bad. you're just... learning." he seems like the last part was an afterthought, and you assume that he was going to say something more negative before changing his wording. "are you here alone?"

"nah, i'm here with sunoo. what about you?"

he flashes a quick smile, lifting his sunglasses to make eye contact with you. when he does, you look at his face closely, and realize he really is as cute as people say. you never really cared to notice him, as to you, he was just some guy that happened to have an expertise in ice skating. seeing him up close, you understand why people could develop crushes: his face was perfectly symmetrical with the only thing varied was the mole on his nose, but he has an extremely aesthetic face. his body was also perfect, broad shoulders with a smaller waist.

huh.

"just here alone. now i'm with you. so not alone." when he smiles, you could see how cute he really is, his fangs on both sides of his teeth accentuate his cuteness, offering a tinge of fierceness if he was focused. you both stare at each other for seconds too long, neither of you wanting to break the gaze. eventually, he looks away, saying to you, "wanna see something cool?" obviously you nod, and you watch as he skates away, accelerating before jumping right into a double axel, landing gracefully before coming right back to you.

you clap quickly, not wanting to let go of the edge for too long, "wow, impressive! i could do that too probably."

"oh yeah, cause you're like the best skater right? i think i've watched your videos before online." he motions a rectangle in front of him like a screen, "y/n l/n, triple axel, into a hydroblade, ending with two flying spins."

you scoff, flicking your wrist in front of him. "you know it bro, real recognizes real."

"for real." he looks at you with a straight face before bursting into laughter. "you're pretty funny you know, i'm surprised we haven't talked much before."

you scratch your head, "well, it's pretty hard when you're just the coolest, bestest, sexiest, beast of a skater." you joke with him.

"you think that of me?" he asks, one fang turning visible as he smirks.

"i was actually talking about me, thank you very much."

he hits his head in faux stupidity, smile not faltering from his face however. "oh, silly me. i should've known, like you said."

"what did i say?"

"real recognizes real." he removes his gaze from you to check his watch quickly before looking back at you. "you know, it's getting pretty late for a guy like you."

you whip your phone our from your back pocket. "sunghoon, it's literally 5:32 in the p.m. i can literally see the sun still."

he laughs awkwardly, "well, still late for a pretty boy like you."

"p-pretty?" you stare at him, wondering whether or not he meant to tell you that or not. "what are you talking about dude?"

"i said what i said. i meant that it's late, the ring closes at 6 today because of some hockey players wanting to run scrims before their tournament," sunghoon explains, leaning on the railing next to you. "i'm probably gonna leave soon anyway, so maybe you and sunoo can join me in getting dinner? if you want of course, i don't know if you have plans already."

"honestly, me and sunoo are supposed to get dinner with just each other, so maybe-" you begin to tell him, but then you notice sunoo talking to his crush on the other side of the ring, and a second later a text from said boy shows up.

[5:34 PM]

ALERT. CODE BLUE.

OK LOWKEY I REALIZE U DONT KNO WHAT THAT MEANS WEVE NEVER DONE CODES ANYWAY ICU TALKING TO SUNGHOON SO GO HANG OUT WITH HIM I WILL HANG OUT WITH MY MANSSSSSS XOXOXOOXO

"-you know what? let's get dinner. sunoo is actually busy all of a sudden." you roll your eyes when you make eye contact with sunoo, him giving you two thumbs up and a cheeky smile as his crush types something down on his phone.

"perfect. i wanted it to just be us. maybe i'll kidnap you and put you in my basement." the confusion on your face must've been evident, because he immediately follows up with "i was kidding. let's just get dinner." with that, he leaves you once again, skating around the rink with a few more tricks before coming back to you, signaling for you to follow him.

you do, getting out of the rink walking along the edge before sitting down next to him. you reach over to untie your laces, before sunghoon ushers you back, simultaneously getting on his knees in front of you, holding your right skate in front of him. "what are you doing?"

"untying your skate, why?"

"i can do it myself, you know?" you look straight into his eyes, tilting your head slightly.

"pretty boys shouldn't have to do anything," he suggests before giving you a little wink, causing you to turn away, not able to meet his eyes after his stupid flirtatious comment.

"w-well, what about you then!"

he removes your skate before moving on to the next one. "oh, so you think i'm a pretty boy huh? good to know." he unlaces your other skate before sitting down next to you, untying his own with haste. it clearly comes from experience, because it's no less than 15 seconds before he's up again, grabbing his sneakers, along with your own to your surprise. "here. so you don't have to get up."

"how do you know what my sneakers look like?"

"i saw you come in."

you lightly hit his shoulder. "so you were watching me the whole time?"

"cute boys deserve attention, wouldn't you say so?"

he goes back down to your feet and signals to put on your sneakers again. "i mean yeah but... you? finding me cute? hard to believe i guess."

"can't be that hard," you allow him to finish tying both shoes before helping him off the ground. you didn't even notice but he also had switched shoes with dexterity, leading you to wonder how much experience he has with these kind of things. "i've been watching you for a while honestly." he waves with his hands in front of you. "not like that, but more of like you're kinda like my school crush in a way."

you can't believe your ears. park sunghoon, king of the school, ice fucking prince, had a hallway school crush on you? y/n l/n. you didn't even feel like you stood out that much, just wanted to get your degree and leave. "school crush? there's just no way." you begin to walk away, not being able to face him without embarrassment flushing your face.

however, he clearly had other plans. "y/n." he grabs your arm, forcing you to look up at him. his eyes bore into yours, keeping you in a trance as you look at his face. "you're one of the cutest guys i've ever seen in my entire life. and i've seen a lot of people in my life already. please, just trust me when i say this."

and that was all the validation you needed. "oh. okay sunghoon. i trust you."

"good boy. now let's go get dinner, alright?"

and with that, he led you to his car to drive to dinner.

maybe the ice prince wasn't so cold after all.

[newobsessionweekly]

Let me fix this

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Metro!Tim Bradford x Metro!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: Two years after Tim broke up with you, you meet again on his first day at Metro.

Warnings: mentions of heartache, breakup, harsh words, swearing? not proofread yet ?

Angst

Requested: Yes, kind of

Words: still counting

Tags: @moneyy-21

GIF not mine, credits to the owner

The room feels suffocating as you dig through the forgotten corners of your closet, searching for something misplaced. Your fingers brush against the cool surface of a small box tucked away amidst a pile of old clothes. Pulling it out, you lift the lid, revealing a treasure trove of memories.

Photos, ticket stubs, and trinkets from days long gone stare back at you, each one a reminder of a chapter in your life that prematurely ended.

Your heart skips a beat as you stumble upon the photo you used to love so much, buried beneath layers of nostalgia. It's a snapshot frozen in time, capturing a moment of pure happiness between you and Tim. Dressed in your LAPD uniforms, you're locked in a tender embrace, lips pressed together in a kiss that speaks volumes of the love you once shared. The wide smiles on your faces are a stark contrast to the pain that now grips your heart.

The photo feels like a cruel joke, taunting you with memories of a love that was supposed to last a lifetime. Tears well up in your eyes as you trace the outline of Tim's face, the warmth of his smile a bittersweet reminder of what once was.

Your heart was racing as you hold his hands tightly, a smile playing on your lips. You've been together for what feels like forever, talking about your future, about marriage, about kids. But suddenly, something feels off.

"Hey, baby. What happened? Are you okay?" you ask as you reach out to touch his cheek gently.

Tim's eyes betray a storm brewing within him as he looks at you, his grip tightening on your hands. "I lied about everything. I just lied to two men I deeply respect, OK? I just betrayed everything I thought was right about myself. So no, I'm not okay."

Confusion washes over you, mingling with a sense of unease. You squeeze his hands gently, hoping to provide some comfort and reassurance. "I would have done the same thing if I was in your place. You were wrong, but you made it right, so it's fine."

But Tim's expression remains grave. "No, it's not. And you wouldn't have been in my place. You never would have put self-interest over your team."

You swallow hard, trying to understand. "Tim..." Your voice trails off.

He shakes his head, his voice strained. "No, no. You got to let me finish, OK? This is very hard for me to say."

Tears start to well up in your eyes as you nod, urging him to continue, your other hand reaching out to cup his cheek gently, trying to offer him comfort in any way you can.

"Y/N, I've been lying to myself for a long time. That's clear to me now, and I can't-- I can't just go back to the way things were. Not right now. Maybe never," Tim confesses, his voice breaking, his forehead resting against yours as he leans in closer.

Your heart feels like it's shattering into a million pieces. "Wait. Are you breaking up with me?" you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips, your breath mingling with his as you hold onto him desperately.

Tim's gaze softens, filled with a sorrow you've never seen before. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb gently wiping away your tears as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

"No, no. You don't-- you don't get to do that. You don't get to push me away, not let me be by your side and then use that as an excuse to leave me, OK? That's not OK," you protest, desperation creeping into your voice.

Tim's eyes are filled with regret as he reaches out to pull you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. "I know, I know," he whispers, his touch gentle against your skin.

"What you're doing is not okay. Don't do this to me," you plead, your voice trembling as your hands were clinging to him as if he's the only anchor in a stormy sea.

"I'm sorry," Tim repeats, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears, his lips brushing against your temple in a silent apology. "You– you are incredible, okay?"

You shake your head, unable to comprehend what's happening, your body shaking with sobs as you bury your face in his chest, clinging to him as if he's slipping away.

"No, Tim... Don't do this. Why are you doing this?" you cry out, feeling like your world is collapsing around you, your fingers clutching desperately at the fabric of his shirt.

"You deserve so much better. That's why I'm walking away," Tim says, his voice barely audible as he stands up, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your shattered heart and a million questions left unanswered, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin.

The past two years had been a whirlwind of heartache and longing since the breakup. Each day felt like a battle against memories that refused to fade and emotions that refused to be tamed. So, when you landed a position at Metro, it felt like a lifeline, a chance to escape the constant reminder of what could have been.

As you prepared for your shift, the Metro division buzzed with activity, a hive of energy and excitement. Your fellow officers bustled around, exchanging greetings and sharing snippets of their lives. You smiled at the familiar faces, grateful for the distraction they provided.

Your superior's voice rang out, breaking through the chatter. "Attention, everyone! We have a new recruit joining us today," she announced, her words drawing curious glances from your colleagues.

You turned your attention back to your preparations, trying to push aside the knot of nerves that had formed in your stomach. But as you glanced up, your heart skipped a beat — you never expected to come face to face with Tim again. But there he was, standing in the same room, his presence hitting you like a ton of bricks.

He catches your eye, and for a moment, the world falls away, leaving just the two of you locked in a silent exchange. His gaze is intense, filled with emotions you can't quite decipher, and for the first time in years, you find yourself unable to look away.

Seeing Tim's face again sent a surge of electricity through you. He looked even better than you remembered – all rugged and hot, with that stubble on his jaw making him look dangerously sexy. And those lips, once the source of endless kisses, now held a serious expression that only fueled the flames of your longing. It was his eyes that captured your attention and held it captive. Deep pools of blue, they seemed to pierce through your soul, stirring emotions you thought long buried.

Tim in that Metro uniform was like a jolt of electricity, sparking a fire of desire within you that you hadn't felt in ages. The fabric clung to his body in all the right places, showing off his muscles and making you feel all warm and tingly inside. His shoulders looked broad and strong, his chest firm and inviting, and every move he made just seemed to make you want him more. He walked with this confidence that was so damn sexy, like he owned the place.

You realized with a pang that you had never truly moved on, that you had been fooling yourself into thinking you could bury your feelings for him. The sight of him brought back a flood of emotions you had tried so hard to suppress, reminding you that some wounds never truly heal.

Tim couldn't tear his gaze away from you, his heart skipping a beat as he took in the sight before him. You looked different, changed somehow, yet still undeniably beautiful.

Your eyes, once filled with laughter, now seemed tired, as if they had seen too much. But they still held that sparkle that had always drawn him in, like they were sharing a secret only he could understand. Your lips, once always curled into a smile, now held a hint of sadness, but they were still as soft and inviting as ever, making him want to reach out and kiss them just like he used to.

And as his gaze trailed down your body, he couldn't help but feel a surge of longing. The way your uniform hugged your curves, accentuating every contour, sent a pulsing wave of desire through him. He remembered how it felt to hold you close, to run his hands over the curve of your waist, and the memory made his heart ache with longing.

Days passed, and it became painfully clear to Tim that you were avoiding him like the plague ever since he joined Metro. Every encounter felt like stepping on eggshells, your attitude frosty and distant, making his training sessions feel more like a battle of wills than anything else.

"You're late, Bradford," you snapped one morning, your voice cutting through the air like a whip as he entered the training room.

Tim clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. "Sorry ma'am, got held up with paperwork," he muttered, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Your eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation crossing your features. "Excuses won't cut it here, Bradford. If you can't handle the workload, maybe Metro isn't the place for you," you retorted, your words like daggers aimed straight at his heart.

Tim felt his temper flare, but he bit back the retort that threatened to spill from his lips. He knew it wouldn't do any good to escalate the situation further.

From the moment he stepped into the training room, you were on him like a hawk, scrutinizing his every move with a critical eye. Your instructions were sharp and unforgiving, your expectations sky-high.

You pushed him to his limits and beyond, demanding nothing short of perfection in everything he did.

For Tim it was like diving into the deep end of a pool without knowing how to swim. Each day was a whirlwind of sweat, sore muscles, and frustration, all thanks to you, who seemed determined to push him to his breaking point. But he refused to crack. He gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain, determined to prove himself worthy of being at Metro, no matter how hard you tried. And it was frustrating, for both of you.

The tension between you and Tim was palpable, a thick cloud of grudges that hung in the air whenever you were in the same room. Your fellow officers couldn't help but notice the frosty exchanges and sharp words that passed between you, like sparks flying in a tinderbox.

Despite the urging of your colleagues to bury the hatchet, neither of you were willing to back down. Every interaction was fraught with tension, each word laced with bitterness and resentment.

"You really think you belong here, Bradford?" you spat, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you glared at him.

Tim's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with anger. "I belong here just as much as you do, Y/L/N," he shot back, his tone defiant.

The cruel words flew back and forth, each one cutting deeper than the last. But beneath the anger and pain, there was a passion between you that refused to be extinguished. It was a fire that burned bright, fueled by years of history and unspoken feelings.

Despite everything, there was a magnetic pull between you that neither of you could deny. It was a connection that had only grown stronger with time, a testament to the depth of your emotions and the intensity of your bond.

When tensions reached a boiling point, one of your closest colleagues, seeing the toll your treatment was taking on Tim, pulled you aside for a private conversation.

"Y/N, can I have a word?" his voice was gentle, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of concern.

You nodded tersely, already bracing yourself for whatever lecture he had in store.

"I know things between you and Bradford are... complicated," he began carefully, choosing his words with precision. "But you're making his training unnecessarily difficult. He's a good cop, and he deserves a fair chance."

Your jaw clenched at the mention of Tim's name, but you remained silent, unwilling to acknowledge the truth in his words.

"He's struggling, Y/N," he continued, "Maybe it's time to put aside your personal feelings and give him a break."

You scoffed, unable to hide your bitterness. "He doesn't deserve a break," you snapped, "He's not Metro material, and he never will be."

The officer sighed, his expression one of disappointment. "I thought you were better than this, Y/N," he said quietly before walking away, leaving you alone with your stubborn pride and the weight of your own unresolved emotions.

Tim stood tall in front of his team, his posture commanding as he barked orders at the officers under his command. He radiated authority, his voice firm and unwavering as he prepared you for the mission ahead.

"Alright, listen up, everyone!" Tim's voice rang out, commanding the attention of the officers under his command. "We've got a hostage situation at the bank downtown. We move in fast, we move in hard, and we get those hostages out safely. Understood?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his words, your frustration bubbling beneath the surface. It was bad enough that you had to endure his presence every day at Metro, but now you had to take orders from him too?

As Tim's gaze landed on you, he seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally speaking. "Y/N, you're with me," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

But you weren't about to let him call the shots. Not after everything that had happened between you. "I fly solo," you shot back.

Tim's expression hardened, hurt flashing in his eyes for just a moment before he composed himself. "Suit yourself," he muttered, his jaw clenched with frustration.

As Tim barked out commands over the radio, everyone on the team fell into line, following his lead without question. But you, stubborn as ever, chose to go your own way, defying orders and doing what you knew best.

"Y/N, I need you to fall back and cover our six," Tim's voice crackled over the radio, his tone firm but tinged with frustration.

You gritted your teeth, ignoring his orders as you continued with your part of the mission. The sound of Tim's voice grated on your nerves, fueling the fire of resentment burning within you.

"Y/N, do you copy?" Tim's voice came through again, more insistent this time.

You rolled your eyes, shutting off your radio with a flick of your thumb. You didn't need Tim's constant nagging in your ear; you knew what you were doing.

The mission dragged on, tension thick in the air as the stakes grew higher with each passing moment. Despite your defiance, Metro emerged victorious, completing the mission with flying colors. As the team regrouped, Tim congratulated everyone on a job well done, his voice dripping with pride.

"You all did a phenomenal job out there today," Tim began, "and I couldn't be prouder of each and every one of you."

The team exchanged smiles and nods, basking in the glow of Tim's praise. But when his gaze landed on you, the warmth in his eyes was noticeably absent, replaced instead by a simmering tension that seemed to hang in the air like a tornado.

"Except you, Y/N," Tim continued, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "You acted recklessly out there, disobeying orders and putting the entire team at risk. You're lucky we came out of this in one piece."

You bristled at his words, anger bubbling up inside you like a volcano ready to erupt. "I did what needed to be done," you shot back, "I know what I'm doing, Bradford."

Tim's jaw clenched, his frustration evident in the way his hands balled into fists at his sides. "You think you can just do whatever the hell you want out there?" he snapped, his voice dripping with contempt. "Well, let me tell you something, Y/N. This isn't about you. It's about the team, and you need to start acting like it. You put everyone at risk."

"I don't need you or anyone else telling me how to do my job."

The air crackled with tension, the space between you charged with an energy that was impossible to ignore. And as you stood there, locked in a battle of wills with Tim, you couldn't help but feel a surge of something else stirring deep within you.

"Dammit, Y/N, why are you so stubborn?"

"Why am I stubborn?" you shot back, your own anger fueling the fire between you.

Your hand reached up to push him away, palms resting on his chest, but your touch lingered, the heat of his skin searing through the fabric of his uniform against your fingertips and you couldn't move them away.

"Maybe because you never listen to me, Tim. Why do you always have to think you know what's best for me?"

Tim's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. "Because I care about you, damn it!" he retorted, "I never stopped caring for you."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there was barely an inch of space between you.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you met his gaze, the intensity of his stare threatening to consume you whole. "And what if I don't want you to protect me?" you challenged.

Pausing for a moment, the air thick with unspoken desire, you closed the distance between you, your lips hovering just inches apart.

"Stop trying to protect me," you murmured, your breath mingling with his. "I don't need you. I stopped doing that the second you walked away."

Tim's grip tightened on your waist, his eyes searching yours with a fierce intensity. "I never stopped loving you," he confessed, "I was a fool, alright? I know and I regret every single moment for leaving you."

"Lies," you whispered, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. But despite your words, you couldn't deny the longing that pulsed through your veins, the ache in your heart that yearned for him.

"Let me fix this," Tim pleaded, his voice desperate as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek.

"Two years, Tim..." you trailed off, "And what's even worse is that I love you even more."

Your words faded into a whisper, lost in the haze of desire that clouded your mind. And before you knew it, Tim was closing the distance between you, his hands reaching out to cup your face as he pressed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

The world fell away as the kiss deepened, passion igniting between you like a wildfire. Years of pent-up longing and desire poured into the kiss, each touch, each caress, speaking volumes of the love that had never truly faded.