#these are kind of rushed because I had to get this idea out of my head immediately

[starryeyed-apple]

you're the only friend I need

summary: Caleb has always been your dearest friend, and so much more. Your world continues to revolve around his memory when you lose him, until he comes home to you.

★pairing: Caleb x Reader/MC ★wc: 5.2k ★content warning: fluff in flashbacks, nostalgia, longing, angst, grief/mourning (Caleb's temporary death), tension when he returns, emotional hurt/comfort. alcohol consumption. heavy use of pipsqueak/pips, Caleb calls Reader baby & honey one (1) time each. ★a/n: I feel like Ribs by Lorde is going to be my most played song this year because of Caleb & writing this fic. Been working on this one for a while! This song is just so Caleb-coded to me, it embodies all that painful nostalgia I love about him, and I wanted this fic to reflect that feeling <3 masterlist ★ read on ao3

It all replays. Effortlessly, in a never-ending loop each time you close your eyes. Every touch, every glance. As tangible as ever until you open your eyes again.

"Pips?"

You blink a few times, rapidly, before looking towards him. For a moment, your mind swims, blurring the familiar image before you.

"Yeah?"

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears, and you shake your head. You blink a few more times, until he becomes clear before you.

Tall, broad-shouldered. Face faintly freckled, framing the glow of those lilac and orange rose eyes. His warm, easy smile.

Caleb, you want to sigh in relief, and have no idea why.

His strong brows are furrowed as he leans forward to get a better look at you, trying to catch your eyes as you shift them away again.

"Sorry," you mumble quickly, giving another sharp shake of your head.

You smile, weakly at first, then stronger when your eyes meet his again. There's always a familiar rush of comfort when your gazes meet. Even when you just feel his eyes on you, it brings a certain kind of peace.

"Spaced out a bit," you add.

"A bit?"

He laughs, but it's worried, his head tilting to the side as he scans you from head to toe. As if there will be some secret revealed in the twitch of your fingers, in how quickly your weight shifts from one foot to the other.

Caleb would be the one to pick up on the slightest tell. Unraveling your darkest fears, so hidden even from yourself, just from the shift of your eyes or the bite of your lip.

"You were headin' all the way to the moon with that stare," he jokes, easing off that sweet, albeit overbearing concern when you smile at him again.

Still, there's comfort in how he hovers over you, in how his worry wraps around you and squeezes just tight enough to be pleasant. Familiar.

"Yeah—sorry," you mutter again, glancing around you.

The pounding of the bass is what hits you first, a sensation of the blaring music felt deep in your chest. You blink a few times more times, disoriented, swaying on your feet only for Caleb to step into your side, steadying you.

"Pipsqueak?"

Your drawn to his voice like a magnet, squinting at his face in the low light of the…bar?

Looking around again, your mind pulls together all the pieces to set the scene. Yeah, the bar—a popular one among students in Skyhaven, near enough to the Aerospace Academy's dorms that fledgling pilots could drown the sorrows of their finals or celebrate acing their flights.

Tonight, it was the latter—though you highly doubted it was ever anything else for Caleb. You were visiting for the weekend, a break from your own studies, and enthusiastically agreed to the night out for the both of you when his friends stopped by his room to ask.

God, where had your mind been?

"Have you been drinking too much?"

Caleb's eyes narrow down at the half-finished beer in your hands (was it your first or second?), and you automatically bring it to your chest, half-expecting him to snatch the affronting alcohol away. The drink in his own hands is barely sipped at by comparison.

"Nooo," you draw out petulantly, and his narrowed gaze turns to you.

You stick your tongue out at him, biting it in a growing smile when his own lips twitch upwards at your behavior.

"Alright, alright," he huffs, even as the suspicion doesn't completely leave his keen eyes—keener in everything they see when it came to you. "Just don't forget to bring me with you next time."

You return his smile, even if something buried deep within you aches at what he says.

"Bring you where?"

Caleb's hand lands softly on your head, the warmth from his palm seeping into your scalp when he ruffles your hair.

"The moon," he says with a grin, easing you and grounding you to both him and the moment. There's an infuriating, beloved sparkle of mischief in his eyes when he adds, "Duh."

"Aren't you supposed to be a real, certified Deepspace pilot soon?" you shoot back instead of focusing on that faint ache. You focus instead on his shining gaze directed at you, how he's fully attentive to every word you say, until that ache fades away. "You should be the one taking me to the moon."

He snorts, eyes crinkling with mirth.

Somebody shuffles past behind him, and he's forced to step closer to you. The heat of his body permeates into your own, and he leans down further to try and meet your wandering eyes.

"Why do you think I became a pilot in the first place?" he asks, tilting his head further down.

The magnetism of his gaze pulls your attention from the words you'd engraved on that metal around his neck.

"To be a big hotshot?" Your nose wrinkles up at him when he grins teasingly from baiting out your familiar snark. "That's what everybody else seems to think. Ooh, Caleb, he's so cool! Look at him coming off the plane, taking his helmet off, I'm gonna swoooon—"

"Oh, quiet, you," Caleb swiftly interrupts you, reaching up to gently pinch your nose. You smack at his hand, and he gives it a shake before letting go.

The pounding music increases in volume, and he shifts, his head tilting to the side so that his cheek brushes against yours. You freeze at the casual contact, and heat up when you feel his breath against your ear.

"Besides, why would I care what they think?"

Caleb's breath is warm, but his words are warmer, heating up your entire body from the inside out. You feel your cheeks get hot, and you can't help but wonder if he can feel it radiating off you, his own cheek still grazing against yours.

What would it feel like, you wonder idly, to have his lips there too? To have them press down, soft, then firm, to feel his breath turn to panting? What would he sound like if you—

You suck in a deep breath, smacking weakly at his chest, even as he doesn't budge in his proximity to you.

"You don't?" you mumble, a hint of petulance creeping into your attempt at teasing, even if you feel your heart race in time with the pulsing music.

Because you know how they all look at him. You know how they gaze longingly, how they admire him from afar or as close as they dare to get.

Even now, you can feel the attention that circulates him, grounding him as the center of gravity in the room, with all the little stars and planets stuck in his orbit.

You lean in closer, daring to get as close to the sun as you can without burning.

In a flash, you see the fingers coming to pinch you again, and you swiftly dodge it, wavering back and forth. He sets his drink down on the table closest to you, and reaches both hands towards your face to catch you.

When he does, you pout up at him, your lips further pushed out when he squeezes your cheeks in.

"Ca-leeeeb," you whine, putting down your own drink and pinching his cheek to mimic his actions, and he lets go of you with an easy laugh.

"I only care if you think I'm cool, pips," Caleb answers, his eyes warm and kind while he shakes his head at your huff of disbelief.

As if it was the most obvious thing in the world—maybe it was, to him. Maybe he didn't notice everybody else in the room as drawn to him as you.

"So?"

You stiffen, whipping your head away.

"So what?"

"Soooo," he drawls, picking his drink back up as he ducks his face into your view again, grinning, "Do you think I look cool? Coming off the plane with my helmet off—what did you say again? I'm gonna swoon, he's sooo handsome—"

"I didn't say that—"

"You thought it—"

"Did not!"

You wack at his chest, frustrated huffs turning into a steady stream of giggles as he wraps his hand around your wrist, tugging you towards him. You stumble towards him in the same moment he steps back to make room for you, crashing into somebody right as they try to skirt past behind him.

Caleb is pushed back forward, colliding into you, and you hiss at the suddenly unpleasant sensation of warm beer spilling all over you.

"Oh, shit."

Caleb's moving in an instant, setting down his glass—from nearly full to more than half-empty in a split second—and grabbing at a pile of napkins nearby.

There's mumbled apologies from whichever drunk classmate bumped into him, but it only earns a rare glare from your golden boy, instead of a charming smile and quick joke to defuse the tension.

"Sorry, pips, I'm so sorry—" he mumbles under his breath when his attention quickly rivets back to you, dabbing gently at your shirt.

But the napkins are not helping, and the layer of beer on your shirt is already soaked through and starting to make the cloth stick to your skin.

And it really sticks.

Caleb seems to notice at the same moment as you. He turns swiftly, backing you towards the corner, away from the eyes always glued to his every action.

Leaning over you, he uses his large frame to hide you from view, quickly unzipping his jacket and helping your arms through the sleeves.

"I'm so, so sorry," he's still rushing the apologies with every breath, zipping up the jacket all the way to your neck.

He rolls the cuffs of the sleeves up to your wrists, brows pinched with concern, face flushed down to his neck.

"Caleb," you urge softly, pulling his panicked gaze up to your eyes. His stiff shoulders relax slightly, just from the familiarity of your eyes looking back at him. "It's fine. People are drunk. I'm probably drunk. It happens."

He still frowns.

"It shouldn't," he mutters, before his hand finds yours, fingers easily falling into place around yours as he tugs you after him. "C'mon, let's get you home."

"What about—"

You stop, your mind suddenly feeling fuzzy again.

You get the uncanny feeling of being trapped in static, like an old-fashioned TV that sometimes sits in an antique shop window, playing the same image on repeat. It doesn't help that you swear this same song blasting in every corner of the bar has been looping on repeat for hours at this point.

Shaking your head, you blame it on the alcohol, focusing instead on the warm weight of Caleb's palm in yours, his fingers giving you a squeeze whenever he looks back at you.

"What about Gideon?" you finally manage once Caleb gets you through the doors, and you suck in a large lungful of cool, crisp Skyhaven air. "Your friends?"

"They'll be fine," he brushes off with a shake of his head, fixing the collar of his jacket on you when it sticks up from the sudden gust of wind. "Gideon's a big boy, he can handle himself. Promise."

"You should still let them know you're leaving," you insist, frowning.

With a sigh, Caleb fishes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. It's an older pair, you recognize the worn hems, and how it's become way too tight across the butt, accentuating how round his—

You clear your throat, glancing away. Needed to take him shopping for some new clothes, the dork. What was he wearing worn out jeans for?

"Shopping?" Caleb says as he sends a text and slips his phone back away, and you start.

Had you said that out loud?

Oh no did you talk about his butt out loud too?

God, how drunk were you?

Caleb frowns at you, pressing his hands against your cheeks before he's suddenly leaning in. Your breath stutters through parted lips, eyes wide as you watch his own close as his forehead touches yours.

"You're too hot," he hums, completely innocent in his concern, unaware of how you now feel even hotter. Unbearably so. "How much did you have to drink again? I swear I was keeping track…"

He's mumbling to himself now, ignoring how flustered you're getting as he turns, crouching in front of you.

"What—"

"C'mon." He reaches his hand back to give a pat to your leg, and you jerk forward with a squeak when his fingers squeeze gently on your thigh. "Hop on."

Hop—

You clear your throat, pushing the sudden barrage of mental images from your mind as you drape yourself over his back, letting him lift you in a piggy back ride back home.

There's a few stopping points along the way.

Five minutes into the walk, and he's setting you down on a bench at your complaints that your feet are being pinched by your boots. He gently tugs the laces loose, pulling each one off. They hang from his fingers while he lets you climb back on his back.

Five more minutes later, your cheek is pressed against his as you start whining for—

"Ice cream?" Caleb repeats, a little laugh in the question. "Pips, it's 1 am."

"Soooo?" You pout, nuzzling your cheek against his, failing to hide a smile into his neck when you feel his breath hitch in his throat. "I want some."

He pivots easily, taking you in the other direction.

Caleb sets you back down, this time on the curb while he gets a frozen bar of your favorite flavor from the 24 hour convenience store. He sits next to you, rambling about zero-gravity tests and flight maneuvers as you happily devour your ice cream.

His mouth opens automatically when you place the last bite in his mouth, lips closing around the stick to pull it off with his tongue.

He doesn't seem to notice the tips of your fingers caught in his mouth, even as your gaze is glued to the sight of them popping out, a little shinier and warmer than before.

You clear your throat, averting your gaze when you feel him look at you.

"You don't even like ice cream," you grumble.

"Nope," he answers in his teasing, sing-song tone, shifting for you to climb back onto his back. "But I sure do like you, pips!"

Caleb laughs when you groan and bury your face back into his neck, like he thinks what he said was the most casual thing in the world.

Which maybe it was.

Or maybe it wasn't.

Your head spins, and you don't say anything else until he's gently setting you on your feet outside his dorm room.

"God, you really are drunk," he sighs softly when you stumble through the door, his arm easily hooking around your waist. His voice is even more hushed when he gently directs you towards the bathroom, his palm on your lower back big and warm, "Gotta get you out of that sticky shirt, honey."

His back leans against the other side of the door when you take a quick shower, still rambling about whatever came to mind, and asking every now and then if you're doing okay.

You emerge from the tiny bathroom with a cloud of steam, clean and happy in one of his old t-shirts. It's one of your favorites of his, tucked away in the side of his top drawer just for your visits.

"Remember the first time you got drunk?" Caleb asks when he tucks you into his bed, only for you to kick the sheets free and tug him in with you. He laughs, easily slipping in beside you in his own favorite, comfy pajamas.

"Mhm," you hum. "I was sixteen—"

"You were fifteen—"

"—and it was at Francesca's house down the street—"

"—it was Luke's house, and I had to carry you for three blocks—"

"—for a sleepover—"

"—it was a house party, pipsqueak—"

"—I'm talking!" You bark at his constant interruptions to correct you, and he bursts out laughing.

You curl up into his side, giggling along with him. Whenever there's a lull in your laughter, with barely enough time to catch your breath, one of you starts up again.

You hold each other tight with each wave of giggles, until your ribs start to burn and your cheeks ache.

When the moment of silence finally comes, Caleb inhales slowly.

"I watched you dance down an entire street before you almost fell, and I had to carry you the rest of the way home," he whispers. It sounds reverent, as if the memory will disappear the moment he speaks it out loud.

You glance up at Caleb, admiring the faraway look in his eyes he got whenever he was hypnotized by nostalgia. It seemed to be happening more often, the older you both got—him remembering you, even when you were right in front of him.

"You were spinning around that flickering streetlight down on West Cedar Street when you almost tripped over your own feet." He laughs softly, and you smile at the memory. You were drunk and young and happy, and Caleb never strayed from your side. "And you were laughing so much I thought you'd wake the whole neighborhood."

"Did not," you mumble, resting across his chest, your body jostled by his laughter.

"Did too," he stubbornly insists, even when you pout up at him. "It was even worse when we got home. Had to shush your little giggles alllll the way up to bed before we got caught."

You roll your eyes, smacking him lightly in the chest.

"How come you never forget anything, Caleb?" you whine.

He falls quiet, and you peer up at him curiously.

There's a different look in his eyes now, even farther away, but it shutters off when he catches you looking.

"How could I forget?" he asks, smiling down at you with a tenderness that makes your heart race in these quiet moments—too intimate for what you said you were to each other, and also not enough. Never enough. "How could I ever forget anything about you?"

Caleb squeezes you tighter, and you feel that static in your mind again. It makes your vision hazy, your head heavy, and sets your heart racing with fear.

"I'm scared, Caleb," you whisper, fingers curling tighter into his shirt.

He shifts underneath you, the gentle strength of his arms tugging you closer. You adjust on top of him until you can listen to the steady beat of his heart, until it settles your own heartbeat.

"Of what?" he asks quietly, fingertips tapping an idle pattern against the base of your spine.

It's comforting, and your eyes begin to droop.

"Of…" you yawn, turning to bury your face further against his chest. Your fingers curl around the chain of his necklace, warm from his body heat. "Of getting older."

Of getting older without you, echoes in your mind.

Which doesn't make sense. When you get older, so does he. That's just the way it goes.

But the words dance around your mind, flashing in your eyelids every time your eyes blink shut again. They get heavier, harder to open, and you hold onto him tighter.

No, you think distantly. Not yet. Please.

You don't know why you think it. He'll be here in the morning when you wake up.

Caleb will give you that dopey, sleepy smile, tug gently at your cheek until you're awake and shoving him away. You'll pester him about what he's going to make you for breakfast, and he'll tease you that you better get up because you snooze, you lose, pipsqueak, it'll all be gone by the time you get up. But he lets you sleep in a bit longer anyway.

"There's nothin' to be scared of, pips," Caleb's hushed voice brings you back to him in that moment, and your racing heart begins to calm. "I'm gettin' older, too. Hear how creaky my knees are gettin'?"

He bumps his knees against yours, and you scoff, kicking him back until your legs tangle together as he laughs.

You want to stay up. You want to keep laughing, until you're sore in the ribs again. Until you feel him nestled between them, always.

"I'm right here with you, baby."

Your stomach flips. It feels off-script, somehow, but you're not complaining.

With a yawn, you finally allow your eyes to close. "Every step?"

Lips brush against your forehead, and you calm.

"Every step."

You poke him in the chest, fighting one more wave of sleep like it was anesthesia—pointless and painful to resist.

"Chapped lips," you mumble, brows furrowing. "Need to get you more chapstick…and jeans, you dork…"

His laughter rumbling through his chest is the last thing you hear.

When you wake, it's with the absence of him.

You sleep again, for just one more glimpse.

You don't like going out for drinks anymore.

You do it, because they ask you to. Your coworkers look for the smile on your face when it's been gone for months, when they should know better than to think you'll ever be happy again, with half of you gone.

And when you stumble home, it's alone.

No stopping for 1 am ice cream, shoes carried for you as you're carried the whole way. There's no dancing down Cedar Street, twirling around the flicker of a streetlight, knowing who's following a few steps behind and laughing along with you.

These aren't the streets of your old neighborhood. You couldn't bear the thought of ever walking them again, even as familiar sidewalk chalk art and cracks in the pavement flicker through your mind as you trace your steps back to your apartment.

It always replays in your mind, sleeping or waking. Sometimes you could hardly tell the difference between those dreams and reality.

You still hear his voice, teasing you with every little thing you do. Even with the weight of the words that had been a gift to him, a promise between you, now dangling around your neck.

He should be here, you think with each beat of your heart, with every staggering step. Your hand sways out from your side, fingers grasping at empty air each time you waver. He should always be here.

It feels like driving through a tunnel, the lights flashing above you with every image of a memory as your mind rewinds back through time. You remember every promise broken, every fear come to realization.

I'm right here with you. You can't remember if that was dream, or memory. Or both. Every step.

Either way, it's a lie. A cruel reminder.

In just a few years, you'll be older than Caleb ever was.

You slowly crouch to the ground, arms brought around your knees. The gate to your apartment complex is in sight, a distance easily crossed, even when your steps falter.

But your chin rests on your knees, tears swimming in your vision. Muscles heavy and slack, no desire to get up and go to it. Because this may be your house, but it isn't home.

Strong arms, gentle embrace. Sure, steady, always open and waiting for you to return to them. Constant. Inevitable.

Gone.

Wiped from an existence that should have always revolved around him.

You could never go home again.

By some miracle, it all comes back to you.

He comes back to you.

When your dreams do become reality, it takes a while to accept it as so. To differentiate sleeping from waking, to fully realize he was once again in not just one, but both.

But it's hard. Fuck, it's so hard. Your breath still catches in your chest, impossibly tight each time your beloved ghost stands before you.

His name still sticks to the roof of your mouth when you see him, sometimes. Your tongue heavy with the syllables you'd laughed, and cried, and called, and whispered; in times of joy and times of grief.

Grief, you think the word over, turning it to inspect in your mind as you walk those old streets. Searching for a forgotten, familiar glimpse of him in every place where you grew up. Seeking another memory in every corner, every old favorite haunt.

Your name is still on the top of the wall of wishes—untouched by human fingers, only weathered by time.

You retrace your footsteps down that repaved street, only to find they've replaced the light bulb in the lamppost.

Down at the abandoned park, the old chains creak under the brush of your fingertips when you sink into the worn plastic seat of the swing.

You haven't answered his messages today, ignoring every phone call, and you wonder how long it'll take him to find you.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take that long at all.

"Hey," he calls, even if you feel his presence before you hear him. "I've been textin' you for hours. What are you doing all the way out here?"

You don't answer, your feet kicking at the ground you couldn't reach as a kid, when he used to use his Evol to push you higher and higher.

He's still talking, but he sounds far away, as trapped in your memories as he used to be.

"Hey." His voice is still gentle, but more insistent when he kneels before you.

His gloved thumb and forefinger find your chin to tilt your face towards him, and you realize he's still wearing that damned uniform. Fresh out of the fresh hell of his job that tries to keep him locked away from you, and here he is, running back home to you.

"Pips, you're worrying me here. Talk to me."

When you meet his gaze, his breath is sucked into his chest at whatever look is in your eyes.

Eyelashes fluttering, he whispers with a crack in his voice, "Please?"

The déjà vu hits you then. You remember the two of you, just like this once before. Your reason for being upset then seems so petty, so inconsequential now.

"I don't recognize you sometimes," you whisper, voice shaking. Your heart breaks when you see the hurt flash in his eyes before he blinks, quickly covering it up. "Or—or maybe I do. Maybe that's what scares me. That you look like my Caleb. You are still my Caleb."

You sniff, eyes watering, and Caleb strokes his thumb under your eyes to collect the fallen tears, the leather cool against your skin.

God, how desperately you wanted to go back in time.

Back to when things were so simple, when all you had to worry about was homework and what Caleb was making for dinner. When the only thing that could hurt either of you was falling off the swings, and you never had to be scared because Caleb always kept a few band aids of your favorite color in his pockets.

You miss riding your bicycles to the train tracks so you could watch the chemtrails the planes left across the spring's sunset sky. You miss hot summer nights when you curled up on the floor of his bedroom with the windows wide open, sharing the same pillow and blanket.

You miss the winters when he'd share one glove with you when you forgot yours, your bare hands linked together as you walked home after school. You miss having sleepovers with your best friend whenever you wanted, surrounded by a pile of plushies and laughing until your stomachs hurt, over some stupid joke you'd forget in weeks.

You miss stale beer staining your shirt and the warmth of his jacket around you, you miss piggy back rides and 1 am convenience store ice cream and sharing beds and laughing and you miss him.

Most of all, you miss the days when you believed that nothing could ever take him from your side.

"You're still my Caleb," you whisper again, and his eyes flash back up to yours, wide and unable to hide all the hope he tries to keep hidden from you. "But I see all the pieces of you they tried to take away."

He laughs dryly, looking away again.

"It doesn't fit right, does it?" he mumbles, moving to stroke his thumb over the back of your hand now. His head tilts, staring numbly at your hand in his. You realize belatedly that it's his right one. "All those broken little pieces."

Whatever broken part of your own soul calls out to what's broken in him.

"Hey," you whisper, nudging your knee against his. You remember being a ghost in the street, drunk and stumbling home all alone. "What would you do if I told you I felt that same way about myself?"

Caleb stiffens instantly. His brows pinch together, looking in pain at just the mere idea of that.

"I'd tell you you're wrong." Slowly, his fingers shift, until his pinkie twines around yours. Looking back up at you from his knees, adoring and supplicant, he whispers under his breath, "You're the best of the best."

How could he be so sure of your place, you think, and not his place in your heart? His spot by your side?

You reach for him, desperately, your hands knocking the military hat right off his head. Your fingers drag through his hair as you pull him closer, until he's resting against your chest, holding him close to your heart.

"You think so little of yourself," you whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and feeling the breath that shudders out of his chest against your own. "But I adore you."

Your fingers gently scrape at his scalp, your lips pressing to his temple.

"I always have."

You're both quiet for a moment. Enjoying the once overlooked, beautiful simplicity of just breathing together.

When Caleb eventually pulls back, it's with a smile.

But it's tight, the corners of his eyes not crinkling in their usual mirth.

Typical Caleb, overthinking even your heart on your sleeve, waiting for him to take what's always been his.

"But you got a big, wide world out there now." His hand comes towards your face, hesitant, then caressing your cheek when you lean into it. "Don'tcha, pips?"

You wouldn't know. Your world had ended when they took him from you.

But you just hum. With a forced casual shrug, you take his hand from your cheek.

You gently tug his glove off, fingers sliding up along his longer ones. Callouses from the lives you'd fought for rub together before they intertwine.

"Maybe," you admit with an utter lack of conviction. Its stark in comparison to the devotion that shines in your gaze up at him, and you see the hard edges that had encapsulated him softening. "But you're all I need."

Your head finds its place on Caleb's shoulder, and his slow sigh of relief ruffles your hair, followed by the light brush of lips there. His fingers tighten in your grip, and yours squeeze in response.

Until it hurts. Until he can feel it.

Until nothing could keep you apart again.

Then it loosens. Not to pull back, never to pull back. But it mellows out to something comfortable.

Not quite content, not yet. But close.

Knowing that someday, hopefully, you didn't have to hold on so tight just to hold each other at all.

Somehow, you know that he hears it this time, in the soft silence that falls between you.

You're all I'll ever need.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Okay, so I have never had an orgasm (I'm afab and I'm 30). I only recently discovered I'm queer, am getting divorced, moved, and it just feels really crappy to not be able to do orgasm, like I can't even bring my body that bit of niceness to myself. I have yet to have sex with a woman (still very new to everything), but I don't know if it will ever happen (like I masterbate but I only started doing that a few years back because I grew up in Christian purity culture and you know, it's a big no no to explore yourself in that way). I am on SSRIs but even before I started taking those I never had one with my husband.

I'm not sure what I'm looking for. Words of encouragement? Advice? Something? Comfort? Pics of LeeLoo (frankly those are always welcome no matter the situation)

PS I've not been able to take my SSRIs for a few days because of med mix ups because of the move, so that probably doesn't help

She ran up thinking I had a treat for her and was very betrayed when she realized I didn’t. My beloved brought treats after these pics, she was rewarded.

Mostly my words are: it’s gonna get better. That’s so much to be dealing with and that kind of stress makes bodies really unwilling to relax and climax.

I’ve spoken before that body exploration should be based on just doing things that feel nice because they feel nice rather than working toward a goal. Touch erogenous zones, learn your body, and view it as successful if you have a nice time. You can read smut for ideas on stuff you might like or to see other experiences written that mirror yours.

Personally having been a gay person who did a long term relationship with a dude I wasn’t sexually attracted to, just loved a lot, things that didn’t work with him did work with partners that actually revved my engine.

I’m in my thirties and still exploring what all feels nice, as long as you have a body to enjoy you can find pleasure in it. It’s never too late, and it’s not a sprint. It’s not a marathon. It’s a joy, so try not to rush it feeling like you’ve missed out.

Bonus Korben cause he was cute earlier.

[steelheart-redux]

Steelheart Redux: Year 1 Retrospective

I meant to post this yesterday but forgot. Oops. Anyway, June 1st marked the official first full year of Steelheart Redux! For me, at least. While the comic didn’t go public until September, those who have been here since the start remember that I uploaded all of chapter 1 at once. That work started in June, so I consider that the comic’s effective birthday.

With that disclaimer out of the way: what a year it’s been! In 365 days, I drew 153 comic pages. That’s about 0.4 pages a day— a little shy of a page every other day. Granted, those numbers aren’t an even spread. I made all of chapter 1 in three months (68 pages) and then had to take a break for a while because of wrist strain (wonder how THAT happened…) and then the amount of backlog I had fluctuated wildly for a while. Some days I have more time and motivation than others. It happens.

Quite honestly, I’m mainly happy that I’ve stuck with the project. My worst fear was that I’d get a month or two into Actually Doing The Thing, then get bored, demotivated, and give up. Luckily, my brain has allowed me to stick with Redux with a level of consistency that is frankly unforeseen from me, and I’m just as motivated as I was a year ago, if not more, thanks to people's interest. I’ve said it before, but the reception to the story already regularly blows me away. I went into this with the expectation that it would take years for the comic to gain any real traction, if it ever happened at all. But here we are, a year in, with tens, if not hundreds of regular readers across multiple platforms. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly, and as I’ve said, I’m so, so grateful for the trust and support.

Looking back, the comic started on wobbly feet. That’s something I knew even at the time and had to make my peace with. Steelheart Redux is my first original story project, first long-form comic (first colored comic longer than a few pages, tbh), and first time I've ever really left the title of "fanartist" behind for longer than a month or so. I knew I was entering uncharted waters and that whatever I made, I'd later come to see as 'bad', or at least, not executed as well as it could have been. Unfortunately, the only way to get that experience and improve is to do it bad. So I did it bad!

STRUGGLES:

Chapter 1 is way too long. Not in terms of content, but in terms of page count. For some reason, I was utterly allergic to the idea of putting more than four panels on a page. While I do like the pacing of it, and the sort of slow ease-in to the world and the setting, I made way more work for myself than I needed to. I definitely could have cut at least 10 pages by compressing things without seriously hurting the pacing, and it would have saved me a lot of trouble. Figuring out how to "trim the fat" and get to where I'm going as fast as possible without making things feel rushed is still something I'm working on, but I'm a lot more intentional about things now that I know it can cost me time and physical strain. You can see the font size slowly shrinking throughout the comic's run as I pack more in, lol. Honestly, it kind of works.

I have various other nitpicks. I'm sparing myself from the general "I don't like how I drew that"s in terms of anatomy and such, as those are just an inescapable result of improving as an artist and not worth getting in the weeds over. I will raise my eyebrows over some lighting choices-- I went out of my way to plan out a way to make the nighttime section of early chapter 2 read as "night, but not dark", and then the entire bit was annoyingly dark as hell. Trying to get the purple DRACO to visually stand out from the concrete there was obnoxiously difficult. I don't think it's bad-- I like the 'scribble background' gimmick I came up with to save myself from having to do backgrounds there, for one thing-- but I don't think it would have killed me to brighten up that section a bit. Something to keep in mind for later.

Speaking of backgrounds. Maybe it's too early to say, but at least right now, changing the background style was a game changer. That was one of the largest time sinks of early pages, adding 2-3 hours to every page that had at least one or two backgrounds. They were doable, but tedious, and as time went on, I found myself enjoying them less and less, instead of more and more as I'd hoped. You can see details start to disappear as a result, as backgrounds stopped being a "fun worldbuilding element" and "visual element of the page" and became just "something I had to draw to get the page done". Changing the style to a much looser one has brought the fun back, and made it much easier to pack in all the details I actually enjoy drawing without getting bogged down in "is the perspective exactly right". I've written posts before about making things easier for yourself if you're doing a long-form project; this is honestly my best example.

GROWTH:

I feel like, looking back, I can see myself become a lot more confident with drawing various things. Steelheart Redux is filled-- intentionally and not-- with things I'm bad at drawing, which has forced me to improve at those things sheerly through unavoidable repetition. Mainly, this includes backgrounds, mechs (still can't get me to draw cars though LOL), full bodies, and profiles.

It's also interesting to see the way I draw characters change. Going into the comic, I'd already been drawing Arthur for years, but making pages forced me to really lock in his design and get comfortable with drawing it. While it's not too different in terms of content, it has a different 'feel' now. This, too, I know is inevitable, and honestly something I look forward to.

I've become a lot more confident in doing these things, which makes making pages less intimidating and lets me experiment more with layouts and angles I might have otherwise been afraid to try. It's nice! It shows in a lot of the end of chapter 2, which is one of my favorite parts of the chapter. I was worried about hitting those emotional beats, because they're setting up for a lot and really needed to feel meaningful, but I think I landed them alright. My character writing is still something I worry a bit about-- there's a lot of subtlety to these guys and this story I worry I won't be able to get across in a more visual story-- but that's something for me to increasingly focus on going forward.

Away from the comic, I've also improved a lot as a 3D modeler. My robot rigs have improved, and I have much better human bases to work off. I can also slam out a layout for a scene much faster, which is a nice time boost to my workflow.

Overall, despite the hurdles and rough edges of some of the early stuff, I'm incredibly proud of everything I've produced. This is the first time I've ever put my heart, body, and soul so thoroughly into a project like this, and I'd like to think it shows.

While we're still in somewhat of the early stage of the comic's story, I'm hoping I've made a solid foundation for myself. I'm so excited for what's to come, and hoping I can execute it even better, year by year.

[00lunect]

★JD with Braces: Take 3★

Translation:

JD: It huuuuuuuuuuuuurts~…

Bruce: Calm down, John. We'll get ice cream later.

Clay: No ice cream! You heard the dentist: his mouth is a mess. The last thing he needs is more junk for his teeth!

Floyd: Don't be so hard on him. The dentist also said it would take a few weeks for the pain to go away and that it would be good if we did our best to cheer him up…

Clay: You're being very soft. John asked for it by not taking care of it when he could!

Bruce: The underbite isn't something you can prevent by just brushing your teeth, Clay.

Branch: But the tartar, the three cavities, and the broken tooth that they also had to treat can.

JD: Shut up…

So, I decided to add a little ✨angst✨ to the whole JD braces thing because in my last doodle, the man didn't suffer enough, and my brain came up with more lore about it. (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠).

So, it turns out the underbite isn't the only thing wrong with John's mouth when they go to the dentist. While getting checked out, the doctor discovers the man has been living with a considerable amount of tartar, three cavities, and a broken tooth between his teeth for a few years, which obviously worries the brothers greatly and causes them to scold John for having neglected his oral hygiene so badly. At least for the first few years he was away from the Troll Tree. Apparently, his teeth started hurting about two or three years after Brozone separated, which is why he was forced to return home (also because he missed his family terribly, of course, but the cavities simply made him rush to get there faster and see a dentist).

Unfortunately for him, he found the Troll Tree empty, and, devastated by all this, he ends up neglecting his hygiene even more for a while, until he manages to make his own toothpaste. Years later, he discovers the other tribes, but unsure of what to expect from his medicine, he doesn't dare visit a local dentist for a checkup. By now, he'd gotten used to living with the pain as a kind of punishment for abandoning his family, so he just sticks to getting proper toothbrushes and real toothpaste. Since then, he brushes every day after every meal to prevent his dental problems from worsening and tooth loss, and somehow it worked, as even the dentist was impressed that he still had a set of teeth to save.

The rest of Brozone is horrified by the revelation and extremely worried for their older brother.

John Dory receives THE scolding of his life, plus special treatment to restore his teeth to their former glory (or whatever they once were before the split), which is pretty easy for the Pop Trolls considering their high-sugar diet, so performing miracles regarding cavities was their specialty. The broken tooth and tartar were more difficult, but the dentist managed. Finally, after several weeks of constant (and painful. Really painful) treatment and making sure John Dory's teeth didn't fall out anytime soon, they finally address the initial problem: the underbite. By now, John Dory has already had a terrible time with the other treatments, barely able to sleep after someone drilled into his teeth for hours and put some weird, bad-tasting stuff in them to fix them. So, braces are the icing on the cake. The pressure in his mouth is unbearable, and according to the dentist, he'd have to deal with that pain for a few more weeks.

Long story short, JD was going to suffer for another month, and he's exhausted and almost traumatized by it all. The only thing his brothers can do in the face of such a pathetic sight is try to make him feel better or keep him comfortable until it passes, and John can only last a few hours before finally being overcome by the urge to cry…

But don't feel sad, people, this is all for his own good. And once the discomfort from the braces passes, he'll look so cute with his new smile! (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠).

…Even if he hates it…

Here are Take 1 and Take 2 of this whole thing, in case you were wondering where this idea of JD with braces came from. Just a silly little thing I thought of the other day and wanted to capture. You'll also notice that the John Dory drawing in this post has facial hair, which the previous one didn't have, so I decided to add it. I don't know, I felt like he needed it. In my previous doodle, he looked very young.

And here's the drawing without text and enlarged, so you can appreciate my boy having a bad time. ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Thanks for reading!

[aimer-arts]

You haven't changed at all.

[r0semultiverse]

Happy 4/13, here's the Deltritan or Satyr Equivalent to Dragon Ball for their species and civilization.

[stylesispunk]

"What remains of us"

outbreak! Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel doesn't die after the brutal encounter with abby because you saved him on time.

wc: 4k>

warnings: angst,mentions of blood, mentions of murder (reader becomes violent), fluff, mentions of broken bones. english is not my first language so excuse my mistakes. Written in a rush.

a/n: so uhmm. How are we feeling? I personally feel broken by the events from episode 2 so I rewrite the story while i was free in the morning to help me cope with the grief and joel is alive.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Something felt wrong in your bones the moment the snowstorm hit harder than expected.

Not just the kind of wrong that came with whiteout conditions and freezing wind — this was deeper. Ancient. It whispered through the trees like a secret from another world, brushing icy fingers down your spine. A warning dressed up as weather. You felt it in your chest, in the weight behind your ribs, where your breath stayed too long before escaping.

Your skin burned from cold, your limbs throbbed with fatigue — but none of it compared to the way your heart pounded. Not from exertion.

From fear.

“Hey, you alright?” Jesse called ahead, pulling his scarf down just enough to glance at you.

You nodded too fast. “Yeah, just—cold.”

Ellie was further up the ridge, carving her own path through the deepening snow with the horse, unaware of how your whole body shook with more than frost. You hadn’t told them. Couldn’t. How do you explain that your body knew something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet? That every step forward felt like walking away from safety?

Your heart was screaming in a language older than logic. Since the morning. Since Joel left before you could fully wake up.

The echo of his voice still lingered in your memory — low and warm, brushing against your ear as you stirred under the covers.

“Get some more sleep, darling”

But he hadn’t kissed your forehead like usual. He hadn’t lingered. And when you finally did get up, your gut twisted when you saw the empty space in the stable, the saddle still had damp with snow.

Joel was out there with Dina; you had no idea under what circumstances. And the sky had turned gray with anger.

You shook your head, tried to focus on Jesse’s voice. Tried not to feed the panic unraveling in your chest like a pulled thread. But the cold in your mind spread, and no matter how tightly you gripped the reins, no matter how fast your horse moved, the feeling remained.

Something was wrong.

You finally found a rundown outpost, an old hunting cabin half-buried in snow and swallowed by pine trees. The roof sagged, one of the windows was cracked, and the door barely held on its hinges, but it was shelter. You and Jesse pulled your horses inside the narrow lean-to out back, while Ellie stomped snow off her shoes and kicked the door open with more force than necessary.

Inside, it was cold and smelled like old weed and damp rot, but you didn’t care.

There was a radio.

You didn’t hesitate. Your gloves were off before Jesse could even say anything. Your fingers moved over the knobs, turning dials, trying to find the frequency Jackson always used for patrol check-ins.

A burst of static.

Then another.

Finally, a signal.

Your breath caught. “Jackson patrol, do you copy?”

Ellie moved closer. Jesse pulled his scarf down, suddenly silent.

“Joel? Dina? Come in.”

Only static.

“Come on,” you muttered, heart hammering, twisting the dial again. “Joel, please, respond.”

Nothing.

The silence wasn’t ordinary. You knew silence. This wasn’t delay. It was absence.

Your body went rigid, every instinct screaming louder than your racing thoughts. Your limbs moved before you made the decision. You were out the door and into the snow again before Jesse or Ellie could stop you.

Jesse called after you.

But Ellie was already grabbing her rifle.

“Where are you going?” Jesse yelled, chasing behind.

“Something’s wrong!” you snapped, swinging onto your horse. “I just know it!”

Ellie mounted up beside you, eyes wide and fierce. “Then we’re not wasting time.”

Jesse hesitated, glancing between you both and the radio inside.

“You don’t even know if that’s where they went—”

“I know,” you growled, already riding. “I feel it.”

Ellie followed without a word.

The snow clawed at your skin like it wanted to peel the truth away. The wind howled as if it knew what was waiting ahead. But you didn’t stop.

Because something had happened.

And Joel and Dina were out there.

You and Ellie rode hard, the snow whipping across your faces like knives, the hooves of your horses lost beneath the storm. You could barely see five feet ahead — but then, in the distance, a glow.

“Shit,” Ellie hissed beside you, pulling her hood lower.

You followed her gaze. Through the trees, past the slope of the hill — firelight. Orange, flickering, wrong. It wasn't from a patrol cabin or torch post. It rose in a bloom, too wild to be controlled. You slowed your horse as your stomach dropped.

“It’s from Jackson,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Ellie.

It wasn’t the whole town, not yet. But something was burning. And it was enough to send a coil of panic twisting through your gut, feeding that same deep certainty that had been clawing at you all day.

“Come on,” you growled, spurring your horse harder, cutting off the cold fear before it could settle. “We are too far.”

And it wasn’t long before you saw it, the lodge.

It sat crooked and hunched near a clearing, like it had been dropped there by accident. One of the side windows was shattered. Smoke was seeping through cracks in the boarded upper floor. The front door hung ajar, barely moving in the wind.

You pulled hard on the reins. Your horse bucked a little, skidding in the snow. Ellie drew her rifle and slid off hers.

Your eyes locked on two shapes near the side of the lodge.

Horses.

Your heart stopped.

Joel’s and Dina’s.

Both were tied loosely, their coats soaked with snow, hooves pawing nervously at the ground. Alone. No movement near the front entrance. No voices. No patrols. No sounds but the wind and the creak of the old building groaning under weight it wasn’t meant to bear.

You slid off your horse.

“Ellie…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, breath clouding in front of you.

She already had her knife out.

“Oh shit...”

You didn’t wait for backup. Couldn’t.

Because Joel’s horse was here. And he wasn’t.

And whatever was inside that building, you felt it—It was about to break you open.

The sound of screams of agony and a body hitting the ground echoed down the hallway like a gunshot.

You knew that sound. It was torture. It was pain.

Your boots thundered down the corridor of the lodge, Ellie at your side, a worry and desperate look in her eyes. She’d followed the path like a wolf hunting a pray, her eyes screaming please don’t let it be too late.

You didn’t say a word. Couldn’t. Your heart was stuck in your throat, and the only thing that moved was your body, in fast motion, furious, drawn to the man who should have never left your side in the first place.

Then you saw it. The door, a from inside, screaming slipping from the lips you used to kiss every day. Joel’s screams.

You didn’t wait. You didn’t breathe. You kicked the door open and your world shattered.

Joel was on the floor, a mess of blood and pain and something worse. His legs bent at unnatural angles. One hand barely raised in instinct. His face, bruised, bleeding, one eye swollen shut. His body twitched like it wasn’t sure if it should keep trying.

And above him, a woman. Blonde. Rage carved into her face like she’d practiced it. Her arms raised again, a golf club in her grip, stained red.

She didn’t see you at first. Her eyes were solely focus on Joel, but you weren’t having that.

You roared, not screamed, roared and tackled her with everything you had, all your weight, all your fury. You slammed her into the wall with a force that cracked wood. The club dropped from her hand and hit the ground.

“No more.” you growled.

Her people came fast, like shadows. One tackled Ellie to the ground. Another raised a knife.

But they hadn’t counted on you.

You were already moving, eyes wild, mind gone. You fought like someone who had nothing left but him.

You weren’t skilled like Joel. You didn’t need to be. You were desperate. Right now, you were desperate.

Fists cracked bone. You took hits but didn’t stop. Didn’t feel them. You were pulling someone off Ellie, dragging them by their collar, throwing them into a chair that splintered on impact. You used what you had — a piece of wood, a broken lamp, your fists, your fury.

And they couldn’t stop you. Because you couldn’t be stopped.

The blonde tried to rise again. You met her halfway and slammed her back to the floor. She spat blood. You didn’t flinch.

“Get away from him!” you screamed.

The crack of your shotgun echoed like thunder as the first shell slammed into one of the men flanking her. Blood hit the wall. Chaos exploded in every direction.

“Who the fuck—?!” Abby turned, fury and shock colliding in her face.

You dropped the shotgun, drew your blade, and charged.

The first one that tried to reached for you got a knife through the ribs. You shoved him off like he was made of paper. The next came at you with a bat, you caught the swing and used his momentum to slam him face-first into the fireplace bricks.

“You don’t get to touch him,” you hissed. “Not him.”

Abby swung the club toward your face. You ducked.

Then you hit her. Right in the gut. The force of it sent her staggering back, wind knocked from her lungs.

“You wanna kill him?” you growled. “Try me first!”

She looked at you like she wanted to, but she hesitated.

And that was her mistake.

Because Ellie broke free just long enough to grab your dropped shotgun and aim it at her. “Step back,” she spat, blood in her teeth, voice shaking but solid.

“Now.”

Abby looked between the two of you. At Joel — bleeding, still breathing — at her fallen group. Then she backed off, raising her hands slightly.

“This isn’t over,” she said.

“Yeah,” you snapped, “it is.” You said, pointing your gun right between her brows.

Your shotgun echoed in the stillness of the room.

The blast slammed into her chest, and her body jerked back like a puppet with its strings cut. She hit the floor; eyes wide. No final words. No redemption. Just silence.

Ellie flinched.

You stood over Abby’s body, breath hitching, heart pounding in your ears. The room reek of blood and then there was silence, except for Joel’s ragged breath.

You dropped beside as your knees had finally given out.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice cracking into pieces. “Joel, look at me. I’m here. I got you.”

His one good eye fluttered open, dazed, unfocused. There was blood crusted at his brow, dried and fresh, a cruel mask across the face you’d kissed so many times before.

“Y-you---"he rasped, voice like torn gravel.

You nodded, cradling his face in your hands, not caring that blood smeared across your palms. “I’m here. You’re safe. Don’t you dare go anywhere.”

His breath stuttered, chest rising too slow, too shallow. His eyes couldn’t stay fixed on you. They wandered, like he wasn’t fully in the room anymore.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered, leaning close. Your forehead rested against his, warm against cold.

“Hurts,” he mumbled, eyes slipping closed again.

“No, no,” you said quickly, your hands gently patting his face. “Stay with me. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay. Help’s coming, okay? Just—just hold on.”

But he didn’t answer. His breathing slowed.

Your heart lurched in panic. “Joel!”

Nothing.

You pressed your fingers to his pulse—still there, but faint.

“Don’t you do this,” you choked out. “You fight, dammit. You’ve been through worse, haven’t you? Don’t you leave me now.”

You’d already faced your worst nightmare. Now you were living in it, holding it in your arms.

Joel lay limp and broken on the floor, his breath rattling against the stillness. His face was swollen and unrecognizable on one side, purple and black with bruising. One eye swollen shut. Blood trickled from his nose, his mouth, the side of his head. His legs—

Don’t think about the legs. Not now.

“Hey,” you whispered again, voice hoarse. “Joel. You still with me?”

A faint groan. Barely audible.

But it was enough.

He was still here.

You pulled off your jacket and shoved it under his head. Your hands were shaking, but your mind was locked in: every first aid trick you’d learned from scraps of survival guides, emergency manuals, anything Joel had ever shown you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You had paid attention.

You just never thought you’d be using it on him.

Dina stumbled in, still pale and groggy, her hand gripping the wall. “Ellie?” she rasped. “Wh—what the fuck happened…?”

You didn’t look up. “You were drugged. Ellie is moving the bodies. We need the space.”

Dina staggered past, gagging at the sight of blood, but she didn’t hesitate. She knew. The air had changed.

This was a war zone. A zone you had built in seconds because you didn’t know what else to do. You blinded yourself; you had become a murderer monster just to save Joel.

You pulled Joel’s shirt open — shredded, stained with red. Purple splotches across his ribs. Swelling. At least two broken.

Your voice cracked. “You’re gonna hate me for this, Joel. But I have to move you.”

“Don’t…” he mumbled, almost unconscious. “Just… leave me—”

“Shut up,” you said, fierce now, your tears splashing onto his collarbone. “Don’t you dare say that. You don’t get to give up.”

Ellie appeared, face pale, blood on her shirt, Dina behind her with a blanket and an old mattress from the back.

“We cleared the room,” Ellie said. “It’s just us now.”

“Good,” you said. “Help me splint his legs. We need to keep him still until we can get him out of here.”

You tore up a curtain and grabbed two broken chair legs. It wasn’t perfect, but nothing about this was. Ellie held Joel’s leg as steady as she could, while you worked the makeshift splint around the worst of the fractures.

Joel screamed.

It was guttural, raw as if he was being dragged through hell.

You didn’t flinch. “I know,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his as you tied the cloth tight. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’ve got you.”

You felt his breath against your skin, shallow and hot.

His lips moved. “Why?” he whispered.

You leaned back and looked at him. “Because I love you,” you said simply.

His eye fluttered open — just barely. And for one fragile second, the pain slipped away. There was only you and you brush the hair from Joel’s face. He was burning up. You needed to clean the wounds. Stop the bleeding. Keep him warm.

Keep him alive.

And somehow, by the grace of whatever broken god still watched over you all, you would.

You pressed a damp cloth to his temple where skin had split beneath Abby’s final blow. His blood soaked through instantly. You didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Your hands moved on their own now. Wash. Compress. Tie. Splint. Whisper to him. Stay with me. Please stay with me.

Ellie and Dina had gone quiet. Standing behind you. Watching. Waiting for direction.

Then your voice broke through the stillness.

“Go back to Jackson.”

Ellie flinched, like she hadn’t expected you to speak.

You didn’t look up. You were holding Joel’s hand — limp and calloused in yours.

“We need help,” you said, barely audible. Your voice was shot. A raw whisper. “Tell Tommy… tell him to send help. We need to get Joel back there.”

Silence. Just the sound of Joel breathing. The sound of blood dripping from the club Abby left behind.

“Please,” you added, and that word cracked like bone. “Please. I can’t carry him by myself. He’s—he’s too heavy. He’s—”

You swallowed hard. Your fingers curled tighter around Joel’s hand.

Ellie stepped forward. “We’re not leaving you.”

You finally looked up, eyes glassy and red-rimmed. “You have to. We need a stretcher, a team. Horses. Anything. I can keep him alive for a few more hours. But I can’t move him like this.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched. Her knuckles went white. “I don’t want to leave you with him like this.”

You reached out, brushing Joel’s graying hair from his brow with trembling fingers. “I’ve got him.”

A pause.

Then Dina touched Ellie’s arm. “I’ll go,” she said gently. “I’ll ride. I’m faster. You stay.”

Ellie nodded, eyes not leaving yours.

You left a loud gasp “No,” you said quietly, lifting your eyes once more to Ellie’s. “Ellie… you go with Dina. I’ll stay here.”

Ellie’s shoulders stiffened. Her brows pulled together like she was bracing for another blow. “What? No. I’m not leaving you and him.”

You sat back on your knees, your hands bloodied, trembling. Joel’s chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged motions beneath you.

“You have to,” you said, your voice breaking. “You have to, Ellie. Dina shouldn’t be riding alone.”

Ellie looked at Joel. Looked at you. And shook her head. “I can’t leave him like this. I can’t.”

You grabbed her hand.

That startled her.

It startled you too.

But you held on, grounding her, pulling her attention back to your face. Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“Please,” you said. “Please. Help me save him.”

Ellie’s eyes filled. Not with tears — not yet — but with everything she couldn’t say. The guilt. The fury. The fear that maybe… it was too late.

But you looked at her like there was still something worth fighting for.

And Ellie, for the first time in what felt like forever, let herself believe it.

She swallowed hard. Nodded once.

“I’ll go.”

Your chest caved with relief. Joel let out a faint groan beneath you, and you turned back to him, brushing your thumb against his jaw.

“I’m here, baby,” you whispered. “I’m right here.”

Ellie hesitated at the doorway. “Will he be okay?” she asked before daring to step a foot outside the room.

You nodded, but it was instinct, automatic, hopeful, desperate. The truth lodged in your throat like a splinter you couldn’t spit out.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, voice trembling. “I—I need to stop the bleeding. His leg is bad. His ribs—fuck, I don’t know how much damage they did.” Your eyes flicked over Joel’s body again, breath catching at the way his chest rose unevenly. “But he’s breathing. And that’s something.”

Ellie stepped closer, still pale, still wide-eyed, her clothes soaked with blood—some hers, some not. “What do you need me to do?”

You looked up at her then, and for a split second, she looked like a kid again. Shaken. Haunted. But standing tall.

“Just go back to Jackson and bring help,” you said, your voice barely more than a breath.

Ellie’s eyes burned. She nodded once; jaw clenched. “Okay. Okay. Just hold on, please.”

You gave her one last look. “I’ll keep him breathing.”

She was gone the next second—boots pounding out the door, calling for Dina. You were left in the broken room, just you and Joel and the slow drip of blood on floorboards.

You pressed your hands to the worst of the wounds, breath shaking. “You hear that, Joel?” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “Help’s coming.”

He didn’t speak. But his fingers twitched again, slow, and curled around your wrist.

It wasn’t much but it meant he was still here.

That night felt heavy like wet ash. Outside, the snowstorm had died to a bitter hiss. The wind still screamed through cracks in the lodge, but inside, everything had gone quiet—except for the sound of Joel’s ragged breath and the low creak of floorboards every time you moved.

You’d done everything you could.

His legs were splinted crudely with a broken table leg and belts. His wounds were packed with gauze you tore from your own coat lining. You boiled snow over a fire in the next room just to clean the worst of the blood from his side. You weren’t a medic. But you were a woman in love. And that made you terrifying.

He’d faded in and out of consciousness, his lips murmuring your name between groans, sometimes not even sure it was real. You sat beside him, your back against the bloodstained wall, holding his hand in both of yours.

But then it went still.

You hadn’t realized how quiet it had gotten until the sound stopped completely.

“Joel?” you whispered, leaning close.

No answer.

You shook his shoulder, gently. Then harder. “Joel.”

Nothing. His head lolled to the side. His skin felt clammy beneath your palm.

Your breath broke in your throat. “No, no—please, no. Joel—” You cupped his cheeks. “You stay with me; do you hear me?”

Still nothing. And then a twitch.

His brow twitched. His lips parted, barely, and a broken whisper slipped out.

“…Sarah.”

The name came out like a breath lost in time. You froze. Your heart cracked open.

His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, a flicker of life.

In his mind, it was Austin again.

The smell of smoke and gasoline in the air. Sirens in the distance. Sarah was laughing, running ahead of him, calling back over her shoulder: “Dad, come on!”

And he was smiling. Genuinely smiling. He could hear her. Feel her hand in his again. It was warm. Real.

He turned and they were on the couch. Watching a movie. She was leaning against him, head on his shoulder. He’d just said something dumb. She rolled her eyes. He didn’t want to blink—afraid it’d all vanish.

But then came the gunshot.

Her warmth gone. He spun. He screamed for her. And when he looked down—

You were there.

In the memory. Not Sarah. You. Covered in blood. Crying. Calling his name.

Joel, please. Please.

Your hands were glowing with firelight, trembling as they pressed against his chest.

He tried to reach for you. He couldn’t move. The world was slipping.

And then—your voice cut through the haze.

“Joel, please. Please don’t do this.”

His heart stuttered once. Then again. A sharp inhale tore through his chest as if he’d been drowning.

“Joel!”

He coughed, body shaking, and your hands caught him just in time.

You sobbed, half-laughing as you gripped his cheeks again. “You scared the shit out of me—oh my god” you sobbed.

He looked up at you, dazed, confused. Then his eyes cleared, just a little.

“You were crying…” he mumbled, lips cracked.

“Yeah,” you whispered, brushing your thumb beneath his eye. “Yeah, I was.”

He blinked slowly. “Stop...”

“I won’t,” you promised. “I’m here. I’m staying.”

And as the fire cracked quietly, Joel leaned ever so slightly into your palm, the pain pulling at him, but your voice anchoring him.

The night lingered like a wound that wouldn’t close.

You didn’t sleep.

Your body screamed for rest, but you stayed next to Joel—watching the way his chest rose and fell, slow and shallow, praying it wouldn’t stop again. Every time his breath caught or he groaned too hard, your stomach twisted into knots.

The lodge was cold. Blood had dried into the floorboards. The fire in the next room was too far away to warm either of you, and you didn’t dare move him to get closer.

So you pressed your body to his side gently, just enough to share warmth without causing him pain.

“Still with me?” you whispered.

His eyes fluttered open, sluggish and heavy. “Yeah…” His voice was more gravel than sound.

You breathed out a shaky laugh, your forehead resting lightly against his temple. “You’re stubborn as hell, y’know that?”

Joel let out a faint puff of breath—maybe a laugh, maybe a wince. “…Learned from the best.”

Your throat clenched. You reached for his hand again, interlocking your fingers with his—gingerly, so you wouldn’t brush the torn knuckles.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

His eyes moved—slow, searching—until they landed on you again. Then he mumbled something you barely heard.

Silence settled like snow. You closed your eyes, listening to the wind groaning against the walls. Time stretched, only broken by Joel’s breath stuttering again.

Then—his fingers twitched around yours.

Then you whispered, “Joel?”

He made a sound.

“I love you.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes were glassy with pain. But then he squeezed your hand, and his voice came soft, barely a breath.

“I love you too.”

It felt like the first time he had told you those three words and that had broken you in the gentlest way.

You buried your face in his shoulder, careful of the bruises, and let yourself cry—not in panic, not in fear. But in overwhelming, soul-shaking relief. He was alive.

He was alive.

Joel woke to the soft hum of voices and some old machines. The scent of cleaner stung his nose before the light even reached his eyes.

His body was pain, muted but deep, like a dull echo in his bones. He tried to move, but something warm and heavy rested on his side.

Your head.

You were slumped in a chair beside him, your cheek pressed gently to his arm. Your fingers were laced with his, your grip loose with sleep but still holding on. Still there.

The light in the room was soft, filtering through the curtained window like morning fog. Outside, life stirred in Jackson. But here, it was quiet. Just the two of you.

Joel blinked slowly, his throat dry, the taste of cotton still on his tongue. His gaze drifted down to you. There was a crease between your brows even in rest. You looked exhausted. Pale. Eyes ringed with shadows.

But you were here.

He breathed your name, raw and hoarse.

You stirred at the sound, your head lifting slowly as if from the depths of a dream. Your eyes met his, still sleep-warm but wide with shock. Disbelief flickered, then relief so powerful it made your lips tremble.

“Joel…” you whispered, leaving a sob behind.

His smile was small. Barely there. “You didn’t leave.”

Your hand came up to cup his cheek. “Never,” you said. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He swallowed hard, his hand tightening weakly around yours. “How long?”

“Three weeks,” you said, voice shaking with the memory. “You were unconscious the first few days back. Fever wouldn’t break. They weren’t sure if you’d make it through the second night…”

He looked at you again, really looked. “And you sat here the whole damn time?”

You gave a soft, broken laugh. “Where else would I be?”

His good eye softened. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You leaned closer, resting your forehead to his. “You promised me once you wouldn’t leave me.”

He nodded faintly, his eyes closing for a moment as your breath mingled.

Your fingers brushed his temple, so gently, as if afraid he’d fade again like some half-formed dream. Joel’s skin was warm beneath your touch, warmer than it had been in days, and that alone nearly broke you all over again.

“It’s going to take time,” you whispered, your voice barely louder than the hum of the machines. “To heal. For everything.”

Joel didn’t say anything, but you felt the tremor in his breath.

You threaded your fingers more tightly with his. “But I’m not going anywhere. You hear me?” you said, firmer now, voice catching on the tears in your throat. “I’m not leaving your side. You will get sick of me.”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue, maybe even protest, but then he looked at you again. Really looked. The cut on his brow. The bruising on his cheekbone. The pain behind his eye, and beyond that, the softness that only came when it was just you.

“You shouldn’t have had to—”

“I had to,” you cut in, gently but unshakable. “Because I love you. Because I couldn’t lose you. And I won’t.” you paused to take a deep breath before continuing, “You and I will grow old together, and we will die peacefully in farm, together.”

Joel blinked. His hand tightened slightly in yours again, like the only strength he had left was meant for that one touch. His voice was barely a whisper when he said, “I don’t deserve you.”

You leaned in and kissed his forehead, bruised, stitched, healing. “You’re mine, Joel. And I’m yours. That’s not about deserving. That’s just how it is.”

Silence fell, heavy but not suffocating. The kind of silence where you could finally breathe again. Where you knew, he was going to live.

Joel let his head rest back into the pillow, the edge of a tear slipping from the corner of his eye.

“Okay,” he whispered, smiling at you.

You smiled through your tears, the kind that burned hot down your cheeks but carried no pain—only release. Relief. Love.

You shifted in the chair, reaching up to brush a bit of hair back from his forehead, careful not to touch where it was most tender. His skin warmed beneath your fingertips. Alive. He was alive. The reality of that still hadn’t fully settled in.

“I’m gonna be here when you wake up,” you promised, voice like a hush of wind through leaves. “Every morning. Every damn day if I have to. You focus on getting better.”

Joel's smile trembled, worn and crooked, but it was his. The first real smile you'd seen in so long it felt like a lifetime ago. His good eye drifted shut, but not before his fingers gave yours one more squeeze, like he couldn’t bear to let go even in sleep.

You watched him as his breathing evened out again, slow and steady, like the beat of a familiar song you never thought you’d hear again. The machines hummed softly beside him. The faint glow of a streetlamp outside filtered through the hospital window, painting golden lines across the bedsheets.

You rested your head by his side again, your cheek brushing his arm, eyes closing just for a moment. Not to sleep, but to hold the feeling. The warmth. The miracle.

He was still here.

And you would be, too. Always.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Size difference with Caleb!

Content: Non proof-reader; Established relationship + Size difference (duh) + Tummy bulge (so unrealistic) + Manhandling + Mating press + Overstimulation

Summary: When does Caleb notice just how big he is in contrast with you?

Note: Thank you so so much for the idea!! I hope you like it, dear @dishoneykisses ♡ Sorry if it's a bit short/not what you expected...

Kind reminder that petite body is solely based on the height, plus my sweetie pie Caleb is a strong boy! No need to feel ashamed about your weight with him!

Caleb notices the size difference when...

He's cooking with you by his side. He is too engrossed on having the correct measures for the perfect mix between the spices and the sweetness of the sugar, when he suddenly notices you trying to reach the ceramic plates. You are trying your best to reach them, having to get on your tip toes and stretching your arm as much as possible just so you can get that one plate that you needed. Before you notice, Caleb is already behind you, his hips brushing against your rear, sending shivers down your spine as you felt his warmth behind you. "Be careful pips, surely you don't want them to fall on your head? Next time just let me know so I can help you." Caleb rubs your hair before focusing once again on finishing the recipe.

He's taking care of you during your period. As soon as you told him that your period had started, it took him less than a few hours to suddenly appear in front of your door. His shoulder carrying a huge bag filled with God knows what. After Caleb is done giving you all the treats he had brought, and then letting you choose between more than four different brands of pads and tampons, he finally let you lay on top of him, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. It was during this time that he realised just how small you were, with your feet barely reaching somewhere between under his knees and his own feet. He couldn't help but feel a bit tempted to grab you press you against him just because of how cute you were.

He goes to hug you. It is quite often that Caleb ends up rushing towards you, arms extended as he wraps them around you, lifting you up as if it was some kind of corny romance and then giving you a few twirls before carrying you in the bridal style. You hit his chest multiple times, trying to get him to let you down, as all the people were starting to stare at the two of you, but it wasn't as if Caleb really cared, after all, he was far too focused on repeating the scene in his mind, remembering the sweet scent that emanated from you, together with how light you had felt as he lifted you and carried you around. He worked out so much for something, after all!

He's fighting along side you. He isn't all that into letting you fight by his side, this was not a matter of seeing you as weak, of course. It was just that he had grown accustomed to being the one to protect you, so of course he felt uncomfortable with letting you get too close to the Wanderer... So when he suddenly has to rush towards you to cover you from the claw of one of them, as he grabs you and pushes you away from it, he is able to notice just how small you are, with his frame being completely able to cover your smaller one.

He's playing with you. Despite how much time has passed, Caleb still enjoys playing with you, from the board games such as kitty cards, to the claw machine, even the ones that you used to play when you were younger, the ones in which the two of you tried to fight against the other. So when you start to playfully get on top of him and try to push him against the couch, Caleb is debating whether to let you win or to use a bit of his strength to prove who is really in control. And he was about to choose the first option, but when you suddenly start to tease him about you being "way stronger" than him, it takes barely a few seconds for him to have you against the couch, cheeks pressing against it as you kept trying to squirm to get away from his grip around your wrists. "Surely you already know who is really in control, right pips?

He's under you. This was one of the many times in which you tried to make your point, telling him to let you ride him since you had been researching on it. Caleb agreeded, a smirk appearing on his face as he saw your legs starting to tremble as the minutes went by, tears falling down your cheeks as the overstimulation gets a bit too much for you. He knows you're trying your best, cheeks puffed as you kept feeling frustrated from not being able to set a proper rhythm, surely you wanted him to take care of you... right? So he suddenly grabbed your hips, using his evol to lift you with ease , suddenly increasing the gravity and forcing you on his cock, hitting with the tip that spongy spot inside you, forcing lewd moans and pleas as you sinked your nails on his shoulders, trying your best to not let him know just how much pleasure was he making you feel. It is then that Caleb notices something. A strange bulge that keeps moving each time he enters you as you let those indecent mewls while he kissed your glossy lips. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help but press it, putting his warm hands on top of it and making some pressure on it, making sure to rise it every time he lets your weight fall on his dick. "Gotta make sure I teach you how to fuck yourself, right? No time to rest, honey..."

He's balls deep inside you. The night had become a blurr the second you had started to drag your hands against his pelvis, always giving him poor excuses about you trying to find the popcorn that was clearly NOT there. You wanted to tease him? Just don't expect him to behave properly. Before you realised it, Caleb was already on top of you, his shirt thrown somewhere as he keeps forcing his cock inside you, fingertips interlocked as he keeps you under him, your back completely pressed against the couch as he keeps plummeting your insides, the wet sound of your poor cunt taking all his length filling the room, mixing with the obscene sounds that were leaving both Caleb's and your lips. "Too much Caleb! Tummy...! You're hitting... somewhere weird!" You try pressing your hands against his hips, giving him those puppy eyes as you try to get him to reduce the depth of his thrusts... Not like it would really work, of course. In fact, your little attempt only made him even harder, making him notice just how small your hands were in contrast with him, who was simply huge, in contrast with you. His weight squeezing you as he kept hitting your g-spot one after the other, making your eyes roll back to your skull each time, even taking advantage of it and staying there for a few seconds, cocky smile on his lips as he saw your flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. His eyes sometimes fixed on the creamy ring that had formed around his cock from all the times you had creamed around his cock... surely he could get to make you orgasm for the eighth time, right?...

Just how was he supposed to restrain himself from taking your petite body and fucking you against the first surface he could get to?!...

[a-hermit-pining]

LADS Men React To Thinking You're Moving Out

AN: Thank you for requesting and yes I did just use an unrelated gif of absolutely stunning Aragorn.

Request: Hello, I absolutely loved your last post!! It was so fun to read, lol. I went through your master list right after and I also read the one about you moving in with the lads men (gold.) Which make me think of a scenario... If you take requests now, what do you think the lads men would do if: You just moved in with them. Everything is fine, but unpacking is kinda slow because both of you need to work. One day you are off from work and decide that day is the day everything will be put in place because it's already suffocating to have that many boxes. He is at work from morning till evening and so happy to come back home to *you*. Just that when he entered the apartament he saw a box next to the door with your clothes in and you packing yet another box with your clothes. But shouldn't you be unpacking? Are you packing your things back?? (Mc just got a better look at everything she owns since she needs to unpack everything and decided to donate some stuff. She had no intention of moving out)

Pairing: Lads boys x fem reader

Genre: fluff

Xavier:

He walks in, probably tripping over the box. Somehow, completely oblivious.

"Xavier!" You rush to him, helping him sit up. "Are you alright?! Oh my god, did you hit your face?"

You both are trouble magnets.

"It’s bruising!" You gasp, already hurrying to grab an ice pack while he sits on the couch, face buried in a cushion.

Please, just sit with him and coddle him until he recharges enough to help you unpack.

Rafayel:

"Where are you going?" Instant tantrum mode. Hands on hips, standing like someone’s disapproving dad.

"I told you, moving in was an irreversible deal. We share the lease. You’re not going anywhere."

Picking up your box of clothes, he strides into your shared bedroom, where you’re busy unpacking his boxes, blissfully unaware, your back to him.

He sighs, pauses, and keeps talking to your back. "Alright, I won’t let the seagulls eat all our salmon. And… there won’t be any more running nude painting jokes..."

"What?" You pull out an earbud, blinking in confusion. "When did you come in?"

Rafayel stares.

"Aw, thanks for bringing in my box! I was just about to get to my closet," you grin, pecking his lips. "When did you get back?"

Let’s just say, Rafayel does not recount the great monologue you just happened to miss.

Zayne:

Conceal, don’t feel kind of guy.

He stands and stares at the box.

Then, without a word, he steps forward and pulls you into a tight hug. He’ll stay there for as long as you allow him to.

"You’re back early," you murmur, leaning into him as he buries his face in your shoulder.

This is normal, him being extra clingy after a long shift.

"What’s the matter?" You turn, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Did something upset you?"

"No," he replies, looking up at you. "I missed you. Let’s go out for dinner tonight."

He’ll go out of his way to make these last few hours with you memorable.

The next day, when he returns home from work, expecting an empty house, the sight of you curled up on the couch is nothing short of pure joy.

He heads to your room, only to find all your clothes neatly hung next to his.

Sylus:

"Have you finally decided to accept the vacation?" he all but purrs, conveniently ignoring the lack of a suitcase.

"Those are for donation, Sylus. And no, I am not taking time off for another vacation." You reply, tossing some of his clothes into the donation pile.

"Um. No, you’re not." He plucks a dress from the pile, inspecting it like it’s a priceless artifact. "I like this one on you. And this too," he mutters, rummaging through your does-not-spark-joy pile.

"No, we are not keeping it!" You snatch the clothes back. "You are banned from the pile. Hands off."

Somehow, he is more offended about giving away clothes than he is concerned about the idea of you leaving.

He considers everything you own part of his hoard.

Caleb:

Hides the box.

Immediately rushes to the kitchen to cook a feast.

Pulls you to a fully loaded dining table, all smiles.

"So, what are your plans tomorrow?" he asks, piling food onto your plate.

"Mmm, I think I’ll be joining the hunters’ food and clothing drive in the morning. Let me know if you want to give away—"

And he's gone.

Sweating, watching you devour the food.

Oh. Oh, no.

He did not just accidentally drug you.

You’re going to be so mad at him. Especially for making you miss the drive.

Excusing himself immediately, he goes to cancel the flight to his private island.

Caleb is now on damage control duty.

[midniqhtt]

robert ‘bob’ reynolds

masterlist • marvel • 06/04/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

⭑.ᐟ xerox pt2 pt3 I @ichorai

you had one last job before you were free. no more splitting, no more deaths. unfortunately, that job seemed to rope in four other assassins and a... a man in hospital-wear?

⭑.ᐟ the fling I @sacredsorceress

bob finds out that you had a one night stand with bucky a few years earlier and feelings bubble to the surface.

⭑.ᐟ therapy I @/sacredsorceress

⭑.ᐟ mocha I @/sacredsorceress

yelena decides to make it her mission to set up bob with her close friend.

⭑.ᐟ lifeline I @/sacredsorceress

When you sleep, the Void visits you. This time, you can't hold your worries in and Bob is there to save the day.

⭑.ᐟ let go I @sunskisser

bob avoided you, and you had no idea why — till the night you help him out of a frenzy.

⭑.ᐟ the woes of bowties and missing puzzle pieces I @websterss

One day Bob having a rough day and void jumps out, creating quite a chaos. She tries to talk him through it but void being void thinking she’s a liability for them, he “consumed” her. Few moments after that he turns back into Bob & other people came back from void but not her.

⭑.ᐟ the hand that’s forced pt2 I @/websterss

You hadn't meant to get attached to Bob, much less fall in love with him. You hadn't meant for things to slip out right from underneath your grasp. Out of your control, much like Valentina holding your love for one another over your heads.

⭑.ᐟ i see you I @cocastyle

⭑.ᐟ sneaking around I @callsign-swan

Bob doesn't mean to be sneaking around. But he can't help it. He's got a secret, and he wants to keep it that way. Too bad he's best friends with Yelena Belova.

⭑.ᐟ alone together I @/callsign-swan

For the last few years, Tony's daughter has been living out in the tower basement. She doesn't realise when Valentina buys the tower, not until she's being choked out by Sentry (turns out Sentry is a really sweet guy called Bob, who knew?)

⭑.ᐟ picnic day I @roanofarcc

when rain threatens a thunderbolts team bonding outing, per the request of Alexei, they turn to their resident weather-controlling team member to save their plans. 

⭑.ᐟ a bunch of teenagers I @mallory524

Bob has really started to like you, but he assumes you don’t feel the same way about him. You do though, and everyone seems to know that except Bob… and apparently also Walker, who really thought he had a chance

⭑.ᐟ going out I @/mallory524

You and Bob finally spend some time together one morning, but you find yourself rushing to defend him when he gets overwhelmed and people aren’t kind to him.

⭑.ᐟ in my arms I @woantohae

The Thunderbolts are constantly on missions, busy trying to do good and save whoever they can. One of them was Bob Reynolds, the defenseless yet powerful man who is part of this team and family. However, he doesn't participate in these missions so he can continue practicing controlling his powers. Despite telling them he's capable, the team prefers to give him more time to get used to them, until one mission, when a member of the team is injured. And all Bob can think about is the fury he feels when he hears Y/N being hurt. And how much he wants revenge on whoever did it.

⭑.ᐟ shadow I @/woantohae

Y/N loved the darkness because she could see the stars better. Void does everything in his power to make sure she can gaze at the starry sky, even if it means turning everything into darkness.

⭑.ᐟ only you I @/woantohae

Bob's dark, evil entity, The Void, appears when you least expect it. The rest of the team must be prepared to confront him and his prevailing malice. However, there is only one person on the team with whom he has a soft spot. And it's her.

⭑.ᐟ like real people do I @froggibus

Bob seeks you out following a bad dream

⭑.ᐟ misunderstanding I @strkly

you and bob were inseparable. until he begins to ignore you and you have no clue why. when you’re injured after a mission gone wrong you’re finally able to find out why.

⭑.ᐟ darling I @fireinmoonshot

You always call Bob darling in private... until you accidentally slip up and use the nickname in front of the rest of the Thunderbolts.

⭑.ᐟ unreal I @/fireinmoonshot

Bob offers for you to share his room while your room in the Watch Tower gets renovated... there's just one problem – he didn't think about the fact that he'd have to share a bed with you.

⭑.ᐟ control I @/fireinmoonshot

Bob always waits for you to come back from missions, but when you don't come back one day, his powers start to get a little out of hand.

⭑.ᐟ lethal touch I @hearts4johnwick

while training, all goes well until a move bob makes changes your concentration as you begin to relive your worst memory.

⭑.ᐟ stay with me pt2 I @scarletmika

Bob wants to feel useful, to truly be part of the team, but the others don't think he's ready. You take it upon yourself to teach him control, to guide him through. But mistakes will be made, and it might not be possible to keep the darkness from creeping back in once more.

⭑.ᐟ destiny or not I @/scarletmika

As The Darkhold foretold Wanda Maximoff's destiny, The Book of Vishanti foretold your own. You just didn't know how much of that destiny was intertwined with Bob Reynolds, until the day you met him in the vault.

⭑.ᐟ peace and quiet I @/scarletmika

Sometimes the tower is too loud, and Bob can feel himself getting overwhelmed. He's always found comfort with you, in your room, where he can find peace and quiet whenever he needs it. And you'll never turn him away, finding the same comfort in him.

⭑.ᐟ request I @lovebugism

you like taking care of bob on his bad days. he isn't quite sure why

⭑.ᐟ stitches I @skeltnwrites

Bob learns how to stitch a wound

⭑.ᐟ plainclothes man pt2 I @em1i2a3

Everyone at the compound knows Bob has a massive crush on you–except you.

⭑.ᐟ carry the zero I @/em1i2a3

You and Bob are sharing a room while the Avengers Compound is under renovations, which brings on a slew of new things to learn about one another.

⭑.ᐟ cherry waves I @/em1i2a3

You’ve been sick for a few days, so while the rest of the team goes out to do a recon mission, you’re on your own watching over Bob. One morning he comes to your room with a weird request.

⭑.ᐟ sailor song pt2 pt3 I @/em1i2a3

Bob is in love with you, but you can’t be what he wants.

⭑.ᐟ i wanna get lost with you I @/em1i2a3

After a rough night, you find yourself with a rare day off–the one that you take on the same day every year in memoriam for the fallen. So you head into the city to spend your feelings away on the only thing that makes sense to you: gifts for your favourite team of scrappy anti-heros…And Bob.

⭑.ᐟ it’s you i’m thinking of I @/em1i2a3

Valentina organizes a PR event for the Thunderbolts and during the event Bob realizes that he may want more out of life than just saving the world.

⭑.ᐟ signs I @/em1i2a3

You haven’t been able to sleep for the past four days, you’ve tried everything in the book, but tonight Bob has come to your room to offer you some help.

⭑.ᐟ the greatest light is the greatest shade I @/em1i2a3

You return back to the compound a week early from an initial two week-long mission, only to find Bob asleep in your bed.

⭑.ᐟ test drive pt2 I @/em1i2a3

You have a late night encounter with The Void

⭑.ᐟ a little bit of jam I @violetrainbow412-blog

⭑.ᐟ archives room I @owastie

you’re tasked with searching through the archives room to find some information on a new threat

⭑.ᐟ oh, scaling all your shadows I @swordgrace

plagued by nightmares, bob takes comfort in the one person who’s pulled him from the shadows time and time again — you.

⭑.ᐟ so high school I @pagesfromthevoid

⭑.ᐟ walk through darkness I @/pagesfromthevoid

⭑.ᐟ unfamiliar feeling I @ang3ltine

Bob was asleep for God knows how long, now that he has the chance at a better life. Who better to show him than you?

⭑.ᐟ admiration I @/ang3ltine

Being recruited by Valentina as part of the new Avengers (z) team was never part of your list of agendas. Yet here you were, doting on an awkward brunette.

⭑.ᐟ look what the cat dragged in I @eyelessfaces

you get bob a cat for emotional support; the cat adopts you as parents and is undeniably bound to bring the two of you closer.

⭑.ᐟ how to kiss I @worstghost

teaching bob how to kiss and accidentally slipping into a 20 minute makeout session

⭑.ᐟ the good side I @cosmictheo

bob loves you so much that he slowly begins to transform into a house-husband for you. and he loves it.

⭑.ᐟ heavenly I @/cosmictheo

it's the first time you're wearing your new suit as an official (new) avenger and bob is a little too excited about it.

⭑.ᐟ fur-evermore I @ofstarsandvibranium

Because you're Bucky's assistant, you, and your service dog, Juniper, head to the tower to give him some files as well as meet the rest of his new team...including a very cute and slightly awkward, Bob.

⭑.ᐟ mr. oblivious I @/ofstarsandvibranium

Bob is sometimes oblivious to the fact that people find him attractive and/or like him. One of those people includes you.

⭑.ᐟ i dream of you even when awake I @deakyjoe

Your gift makes sleep difficult. Luckily, Bob is there to guide you through it.

⭑.ᐟ something special I @blank-potato

You’ve been the live-in doctor at Avengers Tower for a year, and Bob wants to get you something special to celebrate. Unbeknownst to him, that something special turns out to be a sex plant. 

⭑.ᐟ loving you is easy I @/blank-potato

You and Bob are indifferent to each other, never seeming to mesh. But when you lose your memory, something new blooms between the two of you.

⭑.ᐟ drabble I @undyingdecay

⭑.ᐟ peace in the darkness pt2 I @theonewiththefanfics

Bob knows Y/N isn't one to go back on her words. So when she doesn't show up to go through with their plans, he starts to worry. Luckily for him, Yelena knows how to break-and-enter. And doesn't mind invading her personal space.

⭑.ᐟ the ghost i left behind pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 I @brookghaib-blog

Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

⭑.ᐟ a pleasant inconvenience I @little-miss-dilf-lover

your cat likes to run out of your apartment when you return home. today she makes it further than usual but is luckily stopped by a stranger.

⭑.ᐟ run hot I @moon-fics

The heating in the tower has broken in the middle of winter. This leaves everyone trying to find warmth any way possible.

⭑.ᐟ accident I @upl0aded

you and bob had always been perfect, you kept him happy and he kept you satisfied. but what happens when a buried memory accidentally gets revived?

⭑.ᐟ truth will set you free I @sergeantbuckybarnes

You are injected with a truth serum during a mission, and when you return to the Watchtower, you must avoid Bob in order not to spill your feelings for him, but this causes Bob to believe he has done something to upset you.

⭑.ᐟ gladiator I @trainer-from-unova

welcome to the party, say hi to everybody. you're valentina's daughter and you're late to the party in honour of her new puppet.

⭑.ᐟ i can’t have what i want (but neither can you) I @honeyatsu

You don't know how to explain the feeling when you see Bob and Yelena together. You don't understand it, and you don't like it. You think maybe you're not a people person, maybe you're better off being on your own. You take matters to solve this problem your own way, but everyone doesn't agree with your logic.

⭑.ᐟ i like it better I @sl-ut

every member of the thunderbolts* are struggling with having friends for the first time in… ever, for the most part. the team is shocked to find out that, for some reason, bob is having the easiest time with it. aka, four times the team notices a budding romance, and one time they all realize they’re late to the conclusion.

⭑.ᐟ the complete knock pt2 I @sunsburns

you’re only here to try and understand why bucky’s suddenly gone off the rails and joined a new team, leaving you, sam and joaquín in radio silence. the last thing you expected was to find comfort in a stranger. a kind stranger named bob.

⭑.ᐟ second nature I @bruisedboys

bob tells you he’s never been kissed. you decide to change that.

⭑.ᐟ request I @gay-dorito-dust

⭑.ᐟ charcoal smudges I @cryptidcasanova

Bob thinks he's in control. At least…until you get involved. 

⭑.ᐟ short circuit I @honeybadgerwritings

Bob helps Y/N train to control her powers under pressure. But when frustration gets the better of her, their sparring session turns tense.

[shaiyasstuff]

ever after | sylus | sequel

synopsis : Fate may draw the lines, but it is choice that colors the heart. content : soulmate!au, zayne x reader x sylus, zayne x non-mc!reader, unrequited love, angst (light or not, you decide) note : here is a short peek into reader’s life after the events of through the fire and red. This was super short because I kinda just ran out of ideas, forgive me lovelies🥹

“Ow,” you groaned softly as the tiny needle pricked your wrist.

A low chuckle came from beside you. Sylus leaned back in his chair, holding up his arm. “I already got yours tattooed. Besides, this was your idea.”

“I know,” you muttered, trying not to flinch. “But it hurts.”

The tattoo artist grinned beneath her mask. “Won’t be long now.”

“That’s what you said thirty minutes ago,” you grumbled, earning laughter from both of them.

—•

You stared at your wrist, eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief.

There it was. His name. Sylus.

Written in bold black ink, permanent against your reddened skin.

Beside you, he smirked and slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you close without a word.

“How’s it feel?” he asked.

You glanced up at him. “Itchy.”

He laughed.

“At least it’s my name,” he said, looking ahead with a rare softness in his voice.

You followed his gaze, then grinned, bumping your shoulder against his.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I guess so.”

Suddenly, the world around you fell quiet.

The hum of the city faded into a comfortable stillness as you and Sylus walked side by side beneath the soft glow of the evening lights.

There was no rush. No need to fill the silence. Just the sound of your steps, the breeze brushing past, and the warmth of his hand resting gently at your waist.

He turned to you, eyes softer than usual, the sharp edges of his expression dulled by something quieter.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

You looked up to meet his gaze—those deep crimson eyes that had once unsettled you, now familiar, mesmerizing.

You reached down, letting your hand rest atop his, grounding yourself in the moment.

“To be honest,” you began, your voice calm, steady, “it was empty at first. I had to get used to not feeling the pull… the ache.”

You smiled gently, not bitter, just honest.

“But I’m here with you now. And it’s my choice.”

You paused, the weight of those words settling between you like a vow.

“It’s… liberating.”

Sylus said nothing at first—just looked at you, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. Then, slowly, his fingers curled around yours, steady and sure.

And in that silence, you both understood.

This wasn’t fate.

It was something better.

You leaned your head gently against his shoulder, eyes half-lidded as the quiet between you settled deeper.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

A lazy smirk tugged at his lips.

“Haven’t you thanked me enough?” he drawled, voice low, amused.

You chuckled softly, the sound warm against the cool evening air.

“I don’t think a lifetime of ‘thank you’s will ever be enough.”

He glanced down at you, the teasing glint in his eyes softening just slightly.

“Good,” he said, a hint of fondness lacing his words.

“Guess I’ll stick around to collect them all.”

It had been almost a year since you walked away from it all.

The heartbreak.

The mark.

The unbearable weight of loving someone who could never choose you back.

Now, your days were quiet. Peaceful in ways they hadn’t been in years.

Life with Sylus wasn’t perfect—nothing ever truly was—but it was real.

There were still nights when the past reached out with ghostly fingers.

Times when you’d turn away from his touch, not because you didn’t want him, but because the emptiness still echoed too loud.

Your body had been trained to ache for someone else.

To mourn.

To burn.

Choosing Sylus hadn’t been easy.

But he never rushed you. Never pulled when you needed space.

He waited. With the kind of patience only someone who understood pain could offer.

And little by little, you let yourself lean into him.

You let his hands steady you, his voice soothe the cracks, his presence remind you what it felt like to be wanted—not by fate, but by choice.

Now, there was no one you trusted more.

He knew you in ways no one else did.

He understood the quiet battles. The loneliness that crept in when the lights went out. The guilt that lingered like a scar.

And still, he stayed.

Not because he had to.

But because he chose to.

Just like you did.

Shaiya still called, every now and then.

The first time, you had finally felt strong enough to answer. To explain why you’d vanished without a word.

You remembered sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest, the phone pressed against your ear as her voice broke on the other end.

She cried.

She apologized—again and again—for something that was never hers to carry.

You had only listened.

Because what could you say?

That it hurt more to know she cared? That her kindness made the healing harder?

You never once blamed her. You never could.

But Zayne…

You hadn’t spoken to him. Not once.

Not because you didn’t want to.

But because some things are better left untouched—like old letters in a drawer or wounds that have just stopped bleeding.

The surgery had taken away the physical pain—the pull, the burn—but not the years of quiet devotion.

That kind of love didn’t vanish with ink or tissue.

And that was enough.

For you, and for him.

Shaiya had mentioned they got married. No fanfare. Just a small gathering, vows exchanged quietly with people they trusted.

You’d smiled faintly at the news.

“Congratulations,” you’d said softly, fingers brushing over Sylus’s as he sat beside you.

He didn’t say anything—just watched you with that ever-present smirk, his thumb lazily tracing slow circles against your palm like he was reminding you of his presence.

And now, things were steady. Familiar. Whole.

Until Shaiya’s voice rang from the other end of the call again, “I’m going to be in town for work. Do you wanna meet for coffee?”

You glanced at Sylus. He’d already heard.

He arched an eyebrow, not saying a word—just letting you choose.

You smiled into the phone.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

Shaiya clapped, the sound muffled but full of joy. “Okay! See you soon!”

The call ended.

You lowered the phone, and Sylus leaned in, resting his chin on your shoulder, his fingers still tangled with yours.

No questions. No tension. Just presence.

And for the first time in a long time, you were at peace with the past.

Your eyes drifted down to his wrist, to the place where your name was inked in dark, permanent lines—etched into him like a promise.

You reached out, running your finger over it gently, tracing each letter with a quiet kind of reverence.

“I’ll never get used to seeing it,” you whispered, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

Sylus chuckled low in his throat, the sound warm as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against the curve of your neck.

“I know,” he murmured, as if he’d been waiting for you to say it.

And you both stayed like that—entwined in each other’s warmth, your heartbeats slow and steady beneath the quiet hum of the room.

No strings pulled by fate.

No ache left behind.

Just two people, holding on.

Not fate.

Choice.

—•

“Sy, stop it.”

“What?” he replied innocently, even as his fingers continued their relentless mission—pinching your cheek with maddening precision.

“Stop doing that!” you huffed, swatting at his hand, your pout deepening as you tried to glare at him.

He just laughed, completely unfazed. “How intimidating,” he teased, his voice low and amused.

You groaned in defeat, crossing your arms dramatically as he leaned back, clearly proud of himself.

The two of you were sitting outside a quiet little coffee shop, tucked beneath a striped awning, the afternoon sun filtering through the trees.

You were waiting for Shaiya, but somehow, with Sylus next to you, it didn’t feel like waiting at all.

Just another soft, easy moment—with a side of cheek-pinching torment.

He only stopped when he caught movement from the corner of his eye—Shaiya, approaching with a bright smile and an excited wave, her footsteps light as always.

Sylus lowered his hand, finally releasing your cheek, though his signature lazy smirk remained firmly in place.

You turned at the same moment, catching the familiar warmth in her expression, and your features softened.

You lifted your hand to wave back, fondness blooming quietly in your chest.

Beside you, Sylus leaned back in his chair, still watching you, but now with something gentler behind the teasing glint in his eyes—like he could see the weight of everything this meeting meant.

And for a moment, the world felt still again.

Steady. Safe.

You stood as she reached you, pulling her into a hug that was tighter than expected—tight enough to steal a bit of your breath, but you welcomed it all the same.

“How are you?” she asked, her voice laced with concern and hope all at once.

You pulled back just enough to smile, then glanced over your shoulder at Sylus, who was still lounging in his seat with one arm lifted in a lazy wave.

“Never been better,” you replied, the words easy, true.

Shaiya’s face lit up, her smile blooming wide as she took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

Then the three of you sat, the air light with something like peace.

No ghosts. No ache.

Just the quiet comfort of healing, and how far you’d come.

“Zayne couldn’t come,” Shaiya said, reaching into her bag, “but he asked me to give you this.”

She placed a small box on the table in front of you.

You stared at it, unmoving. First at the box, then up at her, then finally at Sylus.

He met your gaze calmly, offering only a small shrug, as if to say, It’s okay. If you want to open it, do.

With a steadying breath, you lifted the lid.

Your fingers stilled.

Inside was your doctor’s tag.

The one you hadn’t seen since the day you left. The one you were sure had been lost in the shuffle of your quiet escape.

Your breath caught.

Shock flickered across your face, tangled with confusion.

Shaiya’s expression softened. “He said you’d need it. If you’re going away.”

Your eyes lifted to hers again, searching.

She smiled gently. “He had me search your old apartment top to bottom to find it.”

You looked down at the tag again, the weight of it suddenly heavier than its size should allow.

Memories pressed at the edges, but beside you, Sylus reached out under the table, resting his hand on your knee—grounding, steady.

You exhaled.

Not everything had to hurt.

Some things could just be part of the journey you left behind.

And maybe, a small piece of it could come with you as you moved forward.

You understood what he meant.

This was his way of saying goodbye—quietly, gently.

Of apologising, to tell you he’s let go.

There was no letter, no grand parting speech. Just a small, familiar tag. A memory returned, so you could finally move forward without looking back.

You blinked back the emotion gathering in your chest and turned to Shaiya with a soft, grateful smile.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

She only nodded, eyes warm and knowing.

And beside you, Sylus gave your hand a gentle squeeze—no words needed.

You were free now.

And finally, you were ready to be.

—•

Soon, you returned to work.

It felt strange at first—stepping back into that world, but something inside you had settled. Healed.

With your resume and years of experience, the hospital welcomed you without hesitation. Chief surgeon. Yeah, just like that.

You were still wrapping your head around it when Sylus let something slip, far too casually, over dinner.

“I might have made a few calls,” he said, swirling the wine in his glass with a smug tilt of his head.

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously.

“You’re full of secrets, aren’t you?” you teased, leaning forward. “First, you lied about your soul mark. Then you decided to casually reveal that you own this city.”

He arched a brow, unbothered.

“Is there more I should know?” you asked, grinning.

He smirked, that signature lazy curl of his lips.

“Oh, probably.”

He leans in close.

“Like how I’m exceptionally good in bed,” he said with a straight face, though his eyes gleamed with mischief.

You didn’t miss a beat. “I know that already.”

He smirked, undeterred. “How I ride bikes?”

You raised a brow. “That too.”

He leaned in closer, grinning now. “Then that means you know everything already.”

You chuckled, resting your chin in your hand as you met his gaze.

“Hardly,” you said, lips curling into a smirk of your own. “You’re an open book with missing pages, Sylus.”

He tilted his head, clearly amused. “Guess you’ll just have to keep reading, won’t you?”

You tilt your head back laughing as he smirks at you.

Your heart felt warm.

There was someone who finally saw you.

And you aren’t ever letting that go.

Soul marks be damned.

That night, as you lay in bed with Sylus, wrapped in the quiet hush of the room, you couldn’t remember a time you’d felt more at peace.

His arm was around you, his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek in a slow, steady rhythm. You listened to the sound of his heartbeat—calm, unwavering—like the world outside couldn’t touch you here.

Then, you felt the soft press of his lips against your wrist.

You let out a quiet chuckle, warmth blooming in your chest. “What are you doing?”

He smiled against your skin, not lifting his head. “Kissing my name,” he murmured, voice low and fond. “The one that’s on my love.”

Your breath caught.

And for a moment, the world disappeared.

Just his voice, his touch, and the way your heart skipped a beat—reminding you that this, here, with him, was real.

Not fate.

Not obligation.

But love.

Chosen, freely and entirely.

“Sy?”

He turned to you instantly, eyes softening the moment they met yours—gentle, steady, like he was always ready to listen when it came to you.

“Yeah?”

You hesitated for only a breath, then reached out, fingers brushing lightly against his cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered.

The words settled in the space between you like they belonged there.

His eyes didn’t widen. He didn’t freeze.

He just smiled. Slow, warm, and so full of something that made your heart ache in the best way.

“I know,” he murmured, voice quiet with affection. “I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

And he pulled you closer—like you were already home.

Perhaps you were.

[kingkaisen]

“You Want to Adopt Me?”

♡ — SUMMARY: You & GOJO decide to adopt Yuji & Megumi.

♡ — A/N: This is a continuation of my dad!gojo au, but reading the other parts isn’t necessary.

♡ — WC: 2k

Four hours had passed since the glorious moment in which Yuji discovered that his beloved teacher had a wife and daughter.

And, after having dinner with all of you that evening, he never wanted to leave.

Walking home that night — all alone, with no family around who would care whether or not he was safe — was one of the most difficult things he had to do. It made curse fighting seem like child’s play.

It was so utterly painful; he fought to hold back a tear as he walked down the sidewalk, staring at his shoes, which he could only see thanks to the dim streetlights.

Truth be told, he hated himself for getting so emotional over this.

Most, if not all of his friends were just as lonely as he was. Most of them didn’t sit at a dinner table and gobble down a nice warm meal with a loving family.

Most of them didn’t have a mother to hug them, or a father to cheer them up. And, if their parents were still around, they were probably distant and unloving.

Even so, it didn’t change the fact that having a family was, perhaps, the one thing Yuji truly wanted.

He just wanted to be loved.

The ache in his heart was so incredibly strong. The pain shot throughout his chest, through his veins, and down to his fingertips.

“Why am I so emotional? I can’t cry over this,” Yuji thought. “This isn’t something worth crying over.”

An unwavering lump in his throat formed from his attempts at holding back a cry.

That was when his footsteps came to a halt.

What was the point in rushing back to his lonely, isolating room at the school?

No one was waiting for him. He could go anywhere he wanted, and no one would truly miss him.

People would look for him, but mainly because of their obligation as sorcerers to track down Sukuna’s vessel. Nothing more.

Some people would actually prefer it if Yuji did disappear. And a few people were honest enough to tell him that to his face.

As he stood there, in the dark, alone on the sidewalk on such a cold night, he couldn’t help but wonder if his friends would secretly be happy if he did somehow vanish into thin air.

Maybe loneliness was destined for him. Maybe everyone would feel safer if he didn’t return to the school. Maybe-

“Hey, Yuji!”

Gojo’s voice startled the young boy, who instantly turned around to see his teacher approaching him, his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t make it too far — good.”

“Is everything okay?” Yuji asked.

Gojo could hear the sadness in his voice, but he decided not to comment on it. After all, he knew exactly why his student was upset. He didn’t have to be a genius to figure it out.

“Yeah, listen,” Gojo paused, “it’s pretty cold and dark out here. Why don’t you come back to my house and stay the night? We can both head back to the school in the morning.”

For a moment, Yuji felt a spark of happiness, but that spark quickly fizzled out.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Yuji frowned. “I’m a vessel. I’m dangerous. Having me sleep in the same house as your wife and kid would be-”

“Would be fine,” Gojo interrupted. “Nothing bad is going to happen, Yuji. Me and Y/N both know that you’re a vessel, and we want you to come anyway.”

Yuji didn’t respond. Nor did he move an inch. Gojo spoke once again.

“She wants to make you pancakes in the morning,” he said in a tempting tone. “Homemade too. The kind that has the crispy edges, but are very soft and fluffy at the same time? We have syrup and butter — orange juice as well. Or do you prefer apple juice? We have both, either way. Not to mention, the bed in our guest bedroom is bigger and way more comfortable than the one at the school-“

“Okay!” Yuji suddenly smiled happily, and it was a real, genuine grin.

He quickly rushed past Gojo, making his way back to your warm, cozy home eagerly.

—

Seven months later, Yuji visited your home as often as he could. Sometimes, Megumi would tag along with him, as the dark-haired boy secretly craved a connection with a loving family too, even if he’d never admit it.

On this particular day, Megumi was lying on the couch, covered in blankets as he watched a movie about two princesses going on some sort of adventure.

Megumi was injured during his last mission, and thanks to the chilly weather, he was also catching a bit of a cold as well. You insisted upon taking care of him, but your daughter insisted that making him watch Barbie movies all afternoon would make him feel better.

As the two of them watched the movie together, you were in the kitchen, standing over your wooden cutting board as you chopped up carrots, onions, and celery.

Yuji hovered over the sink, washing the dishes.

“I want you to have some soup as well, Yuji. You could catch a cold any day now.”

“Yes ma’am,” Yuji said, scrubbing a plate as he smiled softly. “I really appreciate it.”

Suddenly, the front door opened, and Gojo walked in, shouting casually, “I’m home, everyone!”

Quick, soft footsteps could be heard pattering against the floor as your daughter ran up to Gojo, holding her arms out.

“Daddy! You’re home!” She giggled as he lifted her.

“I’ve missed my little muffin so much,” tickling her, he said, “did you have a good day? I think my little girl has grown a couple of inches since I last saw her this morning! Did she grow? Hm?”

The sound of your daughter’s laughter made Gojo smile brightly.

As he held her, he walked into the living room and ruffled Megumi’s hair.

“Cut it out,” the teenager frowned.

“Good to see you too,” Gojo paused, pressing the back of his hand against Megumi’s forehead. “You’ve cooled down a little since this morning, that’s good. I’ll give you some more medicine later on, okay?”

“Okay,” Megumi mumbled.

Gojo slowly put his daughter down. “I’m gonna go say hi to Mom, okay? Keep an eye on Megumi for me.”

“Okay!” Your daughter happily replied. “I can keep an eye on Meg-mi!”

When Gojo made his way into the kitchen, ruffling Yuji’s hair as the boy walked passed him on his way to join Megumi and your daughter in the living room, you instantly stopped chopping your vegetables.

You wrapped your arms around your husband’s neck.

“Hi baby,” he greeted, kissing your lips softly. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” with a smile, you looked into his eyes. “Did you have a good day? Kill any curses?”

“I had a great day. Didn’t kill any curses, though. I was just stuck in a bunch of meetings with the higher-ups,” Gojo said softly, his face only inches from yours, his hands on your hips. “What’s on your mind? You have that look in your eyes.”

“Well,” you paused. “I know they’re teenagers, and they’re very strong and independent, but . . . I can’t help but feel protective over those boys. I love them both like they’re my own. Last week, Yuji accidentally called me mom. He was just so excited when he saw the new clothes I got him for winter, and it slipped out. And it just made me think that, well . . . Maybe he should be able to call me mom. Both he and Megumi. I wanna adopt them.”

Gojo was silent for a moment, which made you frown a bit in worry. Suddenly, he kissed your pouty lips. It was a soft, passionate kiss — one that told you just how much he loved you.

“I think that’s a great idea,” he mumbled against your lips once he pulled away.

“I just think that those boys deserve a place to call home, and that school certainly isn’t it, especially when the people who run it don’t care about their lives at all. It’s just horrible.” Your frown deepened. “And we have more than enough room here, too. We can keep them safe and happy.”

“Let’s go tell them.”

—

Yuji, Megumi, and your daughter were all sitting in the living room, enjoying each other’s company.

The sight of it only confirmed that you and Gojo were making the right decision.

“Hey, we need to talk to you three,” Gojo said.

Megumi grabbed the remote, switching off the television as he struggled to sit upright.

“What’s going on?” Yuji asked, sitting on the floor as your daughter sat down beside him.

“Well, we noticed that you and Megumi have been spending a lot of time here recently.”

Gojo’s words sent an all too familiar heartache through Yuji’s chest. He frowned sadly.

“They’re about to tell me to go away,” Yuji thought. “I knew this wouldn’t last.”

“Me and Gojo decided that it would be best for-”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I get it. I can leave.” Yuji suddenly cut you off, trying his best to hide his pain behind a smile. Slowly, he started to get up, and your daughter grabbed ahold of his pants leg, looking up at him sadly. “I’m sorry if I was a bother. Thanks for everything.”

“Woah, Yuji, where are you going?” You called out, watching the teenager head for the front door.

“Yuji, stop,” Gojo stood up from his seat.

Yuji, who was almost out of the living room, instantly stopped walking. But he didn’t turn back around.

Quiet sniffles could be heard. No matter how hard he fought, or how much he had been through, he wasn’t strong enough to hold back his tears.

The pain of feeling unwanted was simply too great.

He tried to wipe his tears away quickly and silence his little sobs, as he didn’t want to make you and Gojo feel guilty for not wanting a dangerous vessel like him around.

Slowly, Gojo approached his crying student. “Yuji, you have it all wrong. We don’t want you to go anywhere.”

Yuji didn’t respond.

Gojo placed a comforting hand on the crying boy’s head.

“Me and Y/N are going to adopt you,” Gojo smiled. “Looks like you’re my son now.”

“We wanna adopt you too, Megumi,” you said, smiling at the stunned teenager. “We want you to be our son too.”

“I don’t get it — why?” Megumi asked rather sadly. The pain of being unwanted.

“Because we love and care about both of you, so why not?” You said.

“You guys . . . You want to adopt me?” Yuji turned around, his wide, glassy eyes shiny with utter shock. “This isn’t some sort of prank, is it?”

“Of course not,” Gojo grinned at Yuji, before turning his attention towards his daughter, who was starting to tear up when she saw that Yuji was about to leave. “You’re going to have two new brothers, muffin!”

Your daughter smiled brightly, standing up and she ran over to the couch, throwing her arms across Megumi to hug him. Then, she ran up to Yuji with open arms, and he bent down and hugged his future little sister.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Yuji said, flickering his eyes between you and Gojo. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise that I’ll be the greatest son ever!”

Megumi, who stared at his lap as he tried to process everything, suddenly spoke up.

“Thank you for everything,” he mumbled. “I really . . . Thank you.”

“Let’s have a group hug!” Yuji happily suggested.

“Great idea,” Gojo added on just as excitedly. “Everyone pile on top of Megumi since he can’t come to us.”

“Wait, wait, wait-“

Megumi’s new family instantly rushed over to the couch, hugging him and giving him more love than he could handle.

Truthfully, he had no idea how to begin processing this level of happiness, but he looked forward to learning what joy was like.

When Yuji cried this time, he didn’t bother stopping the tears. The warm and silly embrace was healing his soul in ways he didn’t know were possible.

His dream had come true — everything he ever wanted.

Yuji sighed in contentment as the hugging continued, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Finally,” he said with relief.

He finally had a family.

Next part.

[checkeredflagggs]

Scavenger Hunt

pairing: max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

summary: fans are baffled when they spot max verstappen running about Monaco on Valentine’s Day — what’s causing him such panic?

a/n: inspired by the upcoming baby verstappen and little Donut

a/n2: I know there’s a typo in one of the texts but I didn’t want to rewrite that so imagine there isn’t please

Masterlist | Taglist

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Bluesky

user1: it’s so early and on Valentine’s Day…are you guys thinking what I’m thinking?

↳user2: that he forgot to get y/n something and is now rushing around last minute?

↳user1: yup!

user3: it’s so fun to see celebrities act just like regular people

user4: just how early is it over there

↳user5: extremely. I honestly have no idea what he’s doing up right now

user6: early, rushing around, and he’s still kind enough to smile at people…

↳user7: I have no idea how people think he’s a villian

↳user8: right? He’s just a little pookie

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Lando and y/n

Bluesky

user9: another max spotting!

user10: he must have completely forgotten about Valentine’s Day…

user11: wild thoughts thrown into the universe but…are they even still dating??

↳user12: what??

↳user11: neither of them have posted anything about each other in months. By this point in winter break last year, there was like 100 photos of what they were doing and where they were going…

↳user12: omg don’t even say such thing again…

↳user13: ohhh you have a point. I don’t like it but you have a point…

user14: was he up at the crack of dawn or something??

↳user15: that’s what I was wondering…

user16: ok but where was he going in such a hurry??

↳user17: I saw him today! He was ducking into a local bakery and he came out empty handed about 2 minutes later

↳user16: he’s rushing about at the crack of dawn to go to bakeries???

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Charles (and Alex) and y/n

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Bluesky

user18: I saw him this time!

↳user19: well?

↳user18: another bakery and this time he came out with a bag from them. He was still in a rush

↳user19: interesting interesting 🤔

user20: he’s been spotted all over Monaco hasn’t he?

↳user21: At least 4 different locations now yes!

↳user20: have they all been bakeries?

↳user21: as far as we know yes

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Bluesky

user22: he looks so good!

↳user23: he always does… y/n is so lucky…

user24: was it another bakery?

↳user25: it was!

↳user19: hmmmm

user26: did he answer any questions while he was signing?

↳user27: he was chatting with us!

↳user28: did you get anything interesting from him?

↳user27: thankfully he’s still dating y/n — he was laughing because apparently she had ordered donuts from a bakery last night but forgot which one so he’s out and about trying to track them down

↳user28: awwww

↳user19: 📝📝📝

user19: I have a theory!

↳user29: is it completely crazy and out there?

↳user19: no! Well maybe! But I have some proof!

↳user29: oh no…

user19

liked by user, user, user, and 21,823 others

user19: I believe that y/n, Max Verstappen's girlfriend, is pregnant! Facts!

1 — these are the last photos she posted of herself before she went into a soft blackout (she’s only posted a couple of congratulations for Max and the McLaren boys near the end of the season). Those clothes and that pose? Classic for hiding pregnancy — and it even looks like she has a bump in that last one

2 — Max's store has a host of new baby items (cute af and I’ve already ordered some for my nieces and nephews). Why would he seemingly spontaneously start to carry baby stuff? Cause he’s got a kid on the way

3 — the last couple streams Max has done, he’s talked about legacy and the future. Not the strongest evidence but both Max and y/n have said in the past that they’d like to have a kid or 2 when they get more settled in their lives

4 — Max’s behavior today. Rushing all about various bakeries? That just screams pregnancy cravings — I bet that y/n sent him out to get something specific and he was trying to find it/them

In conclusion, y/n is pregnant and I think she’s pretty far along — and they’re trying to hide it

view all comments

user30: oh my god…

↳user31: baby verstappen incoming!

user32: holy shit…

↳user33: I don’t know what to say here

↳user32: I do! user19 you’re crazy

↳user19: just because I’m right doesn’t mean I’m crazy!!!

user34: I don’t think I’ve wanted anything to be more true in my life…

↳user35: big mood

user36: this is such a stretch but god do I want it to be true

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Lando and Charles and y/n

Private Messages, Max and y/n

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 2,913,923 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: our little family is growing — this is Donatello. Thank you yourusername for the wonderful Valentine’s Day surprise!

And baby Verstappen is coming Spring 2025

view all comments

user37: WHAT???

↳user38: it’s just like max to showcase his cats first…

↳user37: well baby Donatello came to the house before baby Verstappen liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1

yourusername: awww I’m glad you like little Donatello

↳yourusername: and that you didn’t mind me sending you all over the place this morning

↳user39: did you really send him on a goose chase today?

↳yourusername: well I had to get him out of the apartment somehow and pregnancy cravings are a good catch all 😂

↳maxverstappen1: schatje…

↳yourusername: you love me really

↳yourusername: and i had to come up with something when you heard me talking about Donut…

↳user39: awww is his nickname Donut?

↳yourusername: no

↳maxverstappen1: yes

↳charles_leclerc: yes 😊

↳yourusername: ugh

oscarpiastri: congrats on the new additions

↳yourusername: thanks Oscar!

charles_leclerc: you’re welcome for helping!

↳yourusername: thanks again Charles!

↳maxverstappen1: yes thank you

↳charles_leclerc: ☺️☺️

↳yourusername: oh yeah max he wants godfather liked by charles_leclerc

landonorris: and i don’t get any thanks for helping?

↳user40: threesome??

↳maxverstappen1: what

↳landonorris: no no no I helped hide the new cat

↳yourusername: ewww no. He hid some of the extra cat supplies for me in an effort to bag godfather

↳maxverstappen1: say goodbye to the potential godfather title

↳landonorris: FUCK

↳charles_leclerc: HA!

user19: I WAS RIGHT!! liked by user53

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @Voidvannie @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff

[taeyongdoyoung]

daddy's home

summary: boyfriendless, jobless and hopeless, you rush to take the first opportunity you find, which is a nanny position. but the kids are not the only ones you grow fond of... pairing: seungcheol x reader genre: fluff, smut, single dad x nanny AU warnings: kids (triggering, i know), age gap (unspecified), mentions of past cheating, abandonment issues, potential therapy, male masturbation, confessions, blowjob, kissing, eating out, protected sex (unbelievable), dirty talk, size kink, pet names (sweetheart, angel, darling, little girl), sir+daddy kink, unprotected sex (with baby-making goal), breeding kink, creampie, more kids (sorry im ovulating) author's note: this is loosely based on the sitcom the nanny in that there's a single dad with three kids but minus the dead wife trope cuz that's too depressing for my tastes word count: 4.3k

You are desperate. Your shitty boyfriend cheated on you, broke up with you and you also lost your job. So it’s been a couple of terrible weeks. Now, you would take pretty much any kind of job as long as it pays enough for you to afford food and the bills. ASAP.

Single dad looks for a live-in nanny for his three kids. Full-time with Sundays off. Contact this number for more details.

Okay, truth be told, you’ve never considered yourself as someone who is good with kids. But how hard can it be? Have you mentioned you’re desperate?

“Listen, Miss L/N,” Mr. Choi, your potential future employer starts. “I appreciate your enthusiasm but I’m not just going to hire you. I’m looking for someone with experience.”

“Well, I have a bunch of nephews, if they turned out alright under my care, then I guess that counts for something,” you chuckle.

“That’s very nice but I’m talking about professional experience. Have you been a nanny before?”

“Technically, no, but how can I get experience if you won’t hire me?”

“Touché,” Mr. Choi laughs.

“How about a trial period? Let me spend some time with your kids under your supervision and prove myself capable.”

Mr. Choi nods reluctantly.

“Well, you’re in luck since my little goblins have driven away five nannies in the past month.”

Oh, dear. Five nannies…And here you were thinking this could be an easy job.

“So, what’s one more?” you chuckle nervously and Mr. Choi shakes your hand, agreeing to give you a chance.

You are excited when meeting his kids. The eldest daughter - Chaerry is 15, very elegant and polite. You think that you’ll have no problems with her and you’ll have lots to talk about. The middle child and only son - Dino is 10, extremely mischievous and loud. You’ll definitely have problems. Finally, the youngest daughter, Elsie, is 5, she’s such a cutie but leaves a mess of her toys everywhere she goes. It’s easy to trip if you’re not careful, but nothing you can’t handle.

The trial period goes by in a flash. Dino attempts to get on your nerves by pulling pranks like hiding fake spiders in your bag and spraying your outfit with ketchup, but you accept all that with an easygoing laugh. Elsie constantly asks you to play with her toys and you need an unlimited source of ideas to keep up with her wild imagination, but it feels more like fun than a job. Chaerry is quiet and doesn’t share much at the beginning but eventually tells you about this boy at school she has a crush on. So, you count that as a success.

“I must admit, Miss L/N, I had some worries at first but seeing how quickly my kids accepted you is remarkable,” Mr. Choi shares his observations with you at the end of the trial period.

“So, am I hired, then?” you beam with excitement.

“Absolutely, yes. The kids have taken a liking to you and changing nannies so often is probably not great for them, either.”

“So true. Kids need stability and I would be happy to stick around for as long as you’ll have me, Mr. Choi,” you are thrilled not only because you will have a bed to sleep, food to eat and money to spend, but because you are genuinely looking forward to spending more time with these little munchkins.

And spend time with them you do. You're not sure what exactly it is that makes the kids warm up to you, but whatever the reason, it's working.

With Chaerry, you talk about boys and high school drama and make-up. On one occasion, she tells you something that sincerely touches you.

“Thank you for being my best friend, Y/N. I know I shouldn't keep stuff from my dad, but he can be so overprotective sometimes it's difficult to talk about...well, going on dates with boys, mostly.”

“Aww, Chae, you can tell me anything. It'll be our little secret,” you give her a wink, followed by a hug.

You're not exactly sure what the correct response here is. But you'll make sure to maintain some kind of balance - both look after her safety so that Mr. Choi sleeps peacefully at night and not betray Chaerry's trust in you.

With Dino, after the initial phase of silly pranks passes, you notice that he's become more honest and calm.

“You won't leave us like our mom and all the other nannies did, will you?” he asks you one afternoon as you're watching TV together.

You haven't asked Mr. Choi what exactly happened with these kids' mother because frankly, it's none of your business, but something is telling you they're a lot more hurt than they let on.

“I'm not going anywhere, Dino,” you promise, though really, it's up to Mr. Choi to decide that.

“Good. It would really suck if you left.”

That's a lot, coming from the kid who damaged like half of your wardrobe with all kinds of sauces.

With Elsie, another strange situation takes place due to the fact that the kid has no filter.

“Let's play family!”

“Um, okay,” you agree without thinking much.

“This will be daddy,” Elsie points at a stuffed lion plushie and then grabs a tiger plushie, “And this is you, mommy!”

“Oh, honey. I'm not your mommy,” you try to explain as gently as possible.

“But can you be? Daddy says our mommy left and has a new family somewhere else.”

Okay, that's a lot to unpack here. Though you don't think it is your place, you'll need to have a conversation with Mr. Choi, because the kids obviously have some kind of unresolved trauma...

One evening, after the kids have gone to sleep, instead of going to your room, you wait in the living room for your employer to come back from work, so you can approach the subject as delicately as you can.

“Good evening, Miss L/N. Kids go to bed?” he greets you as he takes off his coat.

“Evening, Mr. Choi. Yes, they did. I was wondering if we can have a chat. It can be a sensitive topic, I'm sure, but for the sake of the kids, I think it's important.”

Mr. Choi nods and takes a seat next to you on the couch.

“About their mother...”

“I was wondering how long it'd take you to bring that up,” he chuckles bitterly. “Other nannies wanted me to spill the tea on day one.”

“Wow, seriously?”

“It's not like it's this big secret, I just prefer not to talk about it unless absolutely necessary. My ex-wife...cheated on me and got pregnant by another man, so we had a divorce and I kept the kids, because she said she wants to start anew with this other guy, and...well, the kids said this is their home and that they won't move. So, I suppose the judge took that under consideration.”

“My God. I had no idea.”

“You couldn't have known, considering I just said I don't enjoy revisiting those painful memories.”

“Yes, of course, I only meant that...I guess it explains some things. Forgive me for saying this, but I think the kids have some kind of abandonment issues. Elsie and Dino, in particular, they seem to have a fear that I'll leave just like...well, their mom and the other nannies.”

“And are you? Leaving, I mean.”

“Not if I can help it. Mr. Choi, your kids are very vibrant and precious to me. I genuinely love my job. But I'm worried that what happened with your ex-wife affected them more than they show. Maybe you should look into therapy?”

“I will definitely take that into consideration. Thank you for your candour, Miss L/N.”

“You're most welcome.”

“What about Chaerry?”

“What about her?”

“You said that Elsie and Dino express these abandonment issues. Does Chaerry not have them?”

“She probably does, but at the moment she's too busy thinking about boys.”

“Boys? At her tender age? I don't think so,” Mr. Choi immediately goes into ultra alpha protective dad mode and you honestly find it kind of funny. And hot.

“Oh, relax, Mr. Choi. It's just typical high school drama. There's nothing to be worried about.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly.

“I'm counting on you. Does it ever occur to you how quickly they grow up?”

“I suppose it's more difficult for you. I've only known them for a few months but I think I get what you mean.”

“Yeah...How strange, it feels like you've been part of this family forever.”

You try not to think too deeply about it. He...considers you part of this family. Elsie called you mommy. Dino doesn't want you to leave. And Chaerry talks to you about boys. A topic, which girls usually discuss with their mothers. Oh, sweet heavens. Maybe, this nanny gig is becoming more than a job...

One Monday Mr. Choi texts you not to come to work this Saturday, as the kids will be spending some time with their grandparents (aka Mr. Choi's parents). However, the moment you receive the text, you're too busy trying to escape from Dino who is chasing you with a water gun in the garden. So, you somehow forget to put it down in your calendar.

Saturday arrives and poor Mr. Choi thinks you'd be in your own apartment. Finally, some peace and quiet. His parents picked up the kids early in the morning to go to the park with them so he's all alone and free to do as he pleases.

But alas, you go down the stairs of Mr. Choi's enormous house and make your way to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast for the kids. However, it's too quiet. Hm, how strange. Maybe, they're not awake yet? You shrug as you pour some milk and cereal in a bowl.

Oh, you hear some noise from the living room. Is that the TV? Your curiosity gets the better of you and you enter it only to find Mr. Choi in a very compromising position. He is touching himself, watching very obscene things on the big screen!

You are on the verge of chastising your boss for doing something like that in the living room, where the kids could walk in any minute, when you remember. The kids...They're with their grandparents today. Which means that...Fuck, you're not supposed to be here. You should be at your own apartment instead of being witness to...your very sexy and very single employer taking care of his needs.

You are going to sneak back into the kitchen and wait for a more appropriate time to leave the house when you hear it. At first you think you're hallucinating but then you hear it twice. Your name.

“Y/N...please, let me-” Mr. Choi moans, his eyes closed, he is unaware of your presence.

However, he doesn't get to finish his sentence because you are so shocked that you drop the bowl of cereal, which shatters on the ground with a loud noise.

“Fuck, I'm so so sorry,” you murmur nervously as your boss finally notices you watching him.

His cheeks flushed, his lips pouting, he is the most adorable you've ever seen him. He hurries to tuck his cock back into his pants and turn off the TV.

“N-no, I'm sorry...Miss L/N, what are you doing here?”

Oh, so you're Miss L/N now...Very well, then.

“I apologize. It must have slipped my mind that the kids are with their grandparents today.”

“It must have,” Mr. Choi repeats coldly, obviously embarrassed by this situation.

You wonder if you should tell him what you heard. Would that be unprofessional? But then again, he is the one who said your name, so...what is professional anyway?

“Do you want me to leave?”

He sighs deeply.

“What's the point? You already saw me...fuck, I feel so humiliated.”

“Why would you feel humiliated? Am I so undesirable that my presence immediately turned you off?” you ask bluntly.

“That's not the case and you know it.”

“I'm not sure I know anything anymore,” you admit. “You...said my name. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

“You were never meant to hear that,” Mr. Choi hides his face behind his hands, the redness refusing to leave his complexion.

“But I did. So, what now?”

“Please, don't quit. I realize that what I did is unforgivable but...the kids care about you so much, it would devastate them to lose you.”

“I wasn't even thinking of quitting. But...are the kids the only ones who care about me?” you need to know.

“No...As it so happens, I care about you.”

“So, stop hiding from me,” you don't know where that boldness comes from as you grab his wrists and remove his hands, so you can look at his face. Fuck, he's so pretty.

“You're not...grossed out by me?” Mr. Choi blinks at you in surprise.

“Kinda flattered, actually,” you confess. “But I'd like it much better if you let me take care of your frustrations.”

“You would?” he is unable to believe his luck when you drop on your knees in front of him and take him out of his pants again, engulfing his cock with your pretty mouth. “Y/N...”

The way he says your name is enough to make you even more enthusiastic, sucking him deeper and bobbing your head to the best of your abilities. He grips your hair tightly and you make sure not a drop is spilled as you swallow his cum down your throat. You wipe off your lips and sit down next to him, unsure of what to do next.

“Mr. Choi...”

“Call me Cheol, please.”

“Cheol...may I kiss you?”

Seungcheol doesn't respond and instead kisses you passionately, grabbing your face with his hands. His tongue is exploring your mouth in ways you'd never imagined could bring so much pleasure and you can't resist the urge to sit in his lap. Somehow, against all reason, he's hard again, as you grind against him. Fuck. He's so hot and sweet and amazing you just want to make him happy. How anyone could cheat on this fine man is beyond you.

“Um...not to assume or anything, but do you have a condom?” you ask sheepishly.

“I do, yes,” Seungcheol goes to his coat and brings a package.

“I mean, don't get me wrong, I love kids, but I think we should be responsible considering this is our first time together and you already have three of your own,” you're probably talking too much but oh well. Better safe than sorry.

“No, I understand. You're totally right.”

“Will you fuck me?” you inquire.

“Here? On the couch?” Seungcheol is in disbelief.

“Well...you were touching yourself here, but I guess it's whatever. Your home, after all.”

He chuckles, suddenly embarrassed again.

“Come on, let's go to my room.”

Seungcheol offers you his hand and you follow him upstairs excitedly. Is this really happening? Are you seriously going to do this with your boss?

He lifts your chin up because he notices you're not meeting his eyes out of nervousness.

“Look at me,” he commands you easily and you're on the verge of falling apart and he hasn't even undressed you yet. The power this man holds over you... “We don't have to do this if you're not ready.”

“It's not that. I do want this. It's just...I don't remember if I told you but I was also cheated on. A little before I came to work here. And like, I haven't been intimate for a while, so I'm nervous. What if I mess something up?”

“Okay, first of all, give me that asshole's address, I just wanna talk. And second of all...darling, I haven't been intimate since way before my divorce took place. Trust me, I'm a lot more nervous than you right now.”

You shake your head.

“Whatever you do, I'm sure I'll find it like super hot.”

Seungcheol laughs and tilts his head, kissing you again.

“You're so cute,” he whispers against your mouth. “I can't wait to ruin you.”

And just like that, it's as if a switch is flipped. He pushes you onto the bed and leans above you menacingly, a devilish smirk painting his pretty face. Seungcheol pushes your dress up hurriedly, touching you all over.

“You really thought you could get away with it, huh? Walking around my house in those dresses of yours looking so sexy? Tempting me?”

“N-no, s-sir,” you murmur, not knowing where the title is coming from.

“God, I'm such a cliché. An old man unable to resist the gorgeous young nanny...”

“You're not old, sir,” you try to reassure him. You're not sure if he's just engaging in dirty talk or is actually having some insecurities. He's still young in your eyes. Whatever the case, you're there for him.

“Don't lie to me, sweetheart. I'm too old for ya...I have three kids. What do you have, hm?” Seungcheol speaks while caressing your pussy through your panties.

“I have you, sir,” you smile and palm his dick teasingly.

He sighs wistfully and buries his head between your folds, licking and teasing until you're a soaking mess for him.

“S-sir, p-please...C-cheol, don't stop,” you cry out helplessly.

It feels so good, too good. He holds you down, hands gripping your thighs as you cum against his tongue. He barely gives you any time to recover as he rolls up a condom on his cock. You stare at him hungrily, impatient to have him inside of you.

Seungcheol is like the drug everyone warned you about. Once you have him, you won't be able to quit.

“Are you ready?” he asks softly in sharp contrast with his previous behaviour.

“Please take me, Cheol,” you would beg if you had to.

And take you he does, entering you deeply with his big cock.

“Fuck, you're so tight, barely fitting me in,” he speaks, stroking your clit in circular motions with his thumb, while he fucks you harshly.

“It's okay, I won't break, sir,” you try to convince him.

“What if I want you to break, little girl?” Seungcheol inquires, his voice half-joking, half-serious, as he.

“Then, I'd be happy to serve you, daddy,” the word slips from your lips before you could think twice about it.

“Daddy, huh? You need daddy to make you cum?” you are grateful he plays along instead of making fun of you in this very vulnerable moment.

“Yes, daddy, please, I'll do anything for you,” you promise in a daze.

“Cum for me, sweet girl, let daddy take care of you,” his deep voice is enough to bring you to the edge.

“Fuuuck, daddy...Cheol,” you mumble repeatedly, as white appears before your eyes.

You're shaking in his arms but it feels like flying.

“I've got you, angel, daddy's right here,” Seungcheol comforts you, as he rides out his own high, spilling inside the condom. Then, taking it off and throwing it in the garbage bin, he hurries back to you.

You make grabby hands at him and he envelops you in a hug.

“I'm here, sweetheart,” he kisses your forehead gently and you melt against his chest.

“Cheol...I think you just murdered me a little,” you laugh.

“Well, then, I better make sure I revive you, because I can't imagine my life without you.”

“Good. You ain't getting rid of me.”

“That sounds perfect because me and the kids would like you to stick around.”

“Oh God, the kids! What time are they coming back?”

“We've got time, don't worry, they should-”

“Daaaad, we're home!” you hear Dino's loud voice from downstairs.

“Fuck,” Cheol curses under his breath and the two of you hurry to make yourselves look somewhat presentable.

Once dressed and back in the living room, you can only hope that you're not too obvious about what went down. However, you can't stop yourself from glancing at Seungcheol and he's just as flustered as you.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” Dino greets you as if it's completely normal for you to be there. As if you belong.

“How was your time with your grandparents?” you ask, trying to act casual.

“We had so much ice cream!” Elsie squeals excitedly.

“Grandma and Grandpa took us to the park,” Chaerry starts telling you about everything they did in great detail and you are glad that the shy girl you first met is becoming a confident young woman.

Elsie is asking for more ice cream but Seungcheol is explaining that it's lunch time. Dino is painting the table with mustard and honestly, that's so on brand for him...

It is funny where desperation brought you. You realize this is the happiest you've been in a while.

Later, when Seungcheol catches you alone after spending the afternoon with the kids, he asks:

“I know we kinda messed up the proper order of things, but...would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Oh! I'd love that, Cheol. Is it okay to still call you that?”

“Yeah, it's alright.”

“What about in front of the kids? I'm not sure to what point you'd like to mix professional with...personal life.”

“In front of the kids is okay, too,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, do you know what Elsie keeps asking me?”

“What?”

“When will you make Y/N my new mommy?”

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like something Elsie would say.”

“So, um, no pressure. But I think you're more than the nanny to me.”

“Well, I would certainly hope so. I didn't raise you, mister!”

Seungcheol can't miss the opportunity for a joke. He takes hold of your hand and places it on top of his...very hard dick.

“You raised him, though,” he whispers.

“Mr. Choi!” you hiss, scandalized. “I mean...Cheol.”

“Did you mean daddy?” Seungcheol teases you relentlessly.

“Stop it, you deviant!” you shake your head. “Fuck, you'll never let me live this down, will ya?”

“Do you kiss your boss with that mouth?” he smirks.

“Don't mind if I do,” you reply and bring your lips to his.

A year passes by quickly. You love every day of your life. Whether it'll be spending time with the kids, or going on fun dates with your boss turned boyfriend, or having mind-blowing sex with said specimen, you are truly happy with how things turned out for the best.

With one tiny thing missing.

“Cheol, can I ask you something?” you mumble one evening, as you are playing with his soft, fluffy hair.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Seungcheol turns towards you, giving you his fullest attention.

“Have you ever thought about having more kids?”

“Hmm, it hasn't crossed my mind. I already have three kids. But it depends. Is that something you're interested in?”

“Not till now. But if it's with you, I'd love to have a kid,” you confess shyly.

“Well, then, let's make you a mommy,” Seungcheol quickly makes it his mission and for the first time, doesn't use a condom.

“Yes, please, daddy, give me your cum,” you moan wantonly, as he fucks you deep.

“Take it like the good girl you are, I'll give you all I've got, fuck a baby in ya,” he grunts in your ear, sounding even more excited than you are.

“I love it, feel so full,” you whimper and can't stop kissing him. You can't believe this beautiful man is yours and wants to give you another present.

“That's right, sweetheart, I'll stuff you full of it,” he moans and releases himself inside you. Your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, as you reach your high.

Seungcheol gently pushes the cum that's spilling out of your pussy back inside and lifts your legs up.

“Do you think it'll stick?” you ask doubtfully.

“Can't hurt to try again until it does,” he shrugs, determined to succeed.

Nine months later, as you welcome the twins into the family, you realize you've never expected to achieve so much happiness.

“You really had to outdo yourself and give me not one but two babies,” you playfully push Seungcheol's shoulder.

“Is it too late now to say sorry?” he grins nervously.

“Don't be. I'm more than satisfied. But you'll have to give me a raise!”

“I'll give you something better than that,” Seungcheol promises and pulls a diamond ring out of his pocket.

“Oh my God,” you are in shock.

“Y/N...you've given me more than I could ever hope to deserve. You started off as a nanny but you became my three kids' best friend and now, the mother of two more angels. You became my closest person, my source of joy, my sweetheart. Knowing that I can come home to you is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Will you do me the absolute honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, of course, yes!” you say through your tears and kiss him, as he slides the ring on your finger.

“Can I call you mommy now?” Elsie peeks her adorable head behind the door, followed by Dino and Chaerry, who are all excited by the good news.

“Congratulations, Y/N!” Chaerry greets you with a hug and whispers: “Thanks for taking one for the team and making our lonely old man. happy.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Seungcheol complains loudly.

Dino jumps on the back of his dad with a loud squeal.

“You better treat her right, Dad!” the boy warns. “Or I'll ketchup your room!”

“Why do I feel like I'm the one being welcomed into the family?” Seungcheol bemoans his fate but he's never smiled wider.

“You'll get used to it,” you joke. “Come on, guys, meet your new brother and sister.”

“Hii, babies!” Elsie and Dino jump excitedly around the twins.

“Oh, they're so cute! Aren't they so cute, Dad?” Chaerry coos at the babies.

“They are, but it's too early for you to think about how cute babies are. Look at me...I already have five. Isn't it tragic?” Seungcheol keeps messing around.

“It could have been twelve or something,” you play along.

“I can't imagine,” Seungcheol cries out indignantly. But deep down, maybe he can.

The End

[alisonwritesimagines]

Count On Mom ~Batfamily Imagine~

Summary: The kids try to get Bruce to get away from the computer. Luckily, there is always one person who can take his mind out of anything including Batman duties. You.

Author’s Note: Haven't posted much in a while and I kept seeing a lot of Batfamily stuff at the last convention I went to so here we go!

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: boob flashing, hint to smut

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

Three of the batkids stared at their adoptive father as he had been stuck in front of the screen in the Batcave. None of the moved as they watched Bruce in some kind of trance.

“How long since he moved?” Dick asked Cassandra and Jason.

“A day,” Cassandra monotonous answered.

“I think he blinked a minute ago, does that count?” Jason asked.

“It’s official. Alfred called it. He said he’ll bake cookies if we can get Bruce to stop working,” Duke said as he walked into the batcave.

"Step aside," Jason said as he cracked his knuckles. "This will be over in no time."

As the kids began to try to get Bruce to move away, no effort was made to moving Bruce.

"I got an idea," Dick said as he took out his phone.

You felt your phone ring, making you put the groceries down onto the kitchen island so you could answer your phone. You had just gone to the store to grab some ingredients to make dinner for tomorrow's dinner.

“Hello?”

“Hey mom! Are you and Damien almost done with grocery shopping yet?”

“We just got home. Why?”

“We’re trying to pry Bruce off of the computer in the Batcave and Alfred said he’d make us cookies if we get him away from the screen.”

“I’m on my way,” you say with a chuckle at the end.

"Already began to bake the cookies. I know you'll be able to get him away," Alfred told you.

"Of course I can. That's my superpower in this family," you joked.

When you got to the Batcave, you saw your husband tiredly staring at the screen in front of him. The dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep made you upset but you knew there was one thing you could do that would always get his attention.

"Aw my poor husband," you say.

"You got this mom?" Jason asked you.

“Step aside kids and close your eyes,” you tell them as you walked over to your husband.

“What are you going to do mom?” Dick as as he covered his eyes. The rest of the kids quickly covered their eyes to avoid to see what you were going to do.

You climbed onto Bruce’s lap before lifting both your shirt and bra in front of him. Bruce quickly snapped out of his daze before looking up at you with a smile.

“Tempting me my love?”

“Maybe,” you smile as you pulled your shirt and bra down.

“Let me have my cookies and you can have me,” you whispered into his ears as you stood up.

“Okay kids. Enjoy Alfred’s cookies,” you say as you headed out.

The moment the kids uncovered their eyes, they watched in shock as Bruce already began to make his way towards you.

“Leave it to mom for getting Bruce to do anything other than his Batman duties,” Jason said.

"I wonder how she does it," Duke says out loud.

"Because dad's got it bad for mom," Dick tells him.

By the time Bruce got to you, you were eating your chocolate chip cookies that Alfred had made with Damien. You winked at your husband as you kissed Damien’s head.

“Alfred, why don’t you and the kids go out for a bit? It’s lovely outside,” you tell him.

“Of course,” Alfred said before walking over to get the rest of the kids. You began to head upstairs to your room, knowing that you had stirred something in Bruce.

“You coming Bruce?” You called out. You smirked as you heard Bruce’s fastened footsteps.

You let out a laugh as you felt him pick you up. You held onto him as he rushed over to the bedroom.

“I owe you some alone time don’t I?” Bruce asked you with a smile.

“Yes you do. Now, while everyone is out of the house, why don’t you make it up to me?” You asked him.

“I plan to," Bruce said before kissing you passionately.

[gf2bellamy]

Hiii first of all just wanted you to know that you are the best fluff writer I've ever seen secondly i had this cute idea about bau reader and spencer outing their relationship by accident when she shows up wearing one of spencer's mismatched socks like she’s wearing one and he's wearing the other and the team reaction to it specifically morgan and penelope

matching — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: teasing from the team , secret relationship a/n: hii !! thank you so so much thats such an honor and i hope you like this <3

"I love your apartment," you said with a smile as you slipped off your shoes, stepping onto the plush carpet of Penelope Garcia’s cozy home.

"Why, thank you very much!" Garcia beamed, twirling slightly in excitement. "This is my sacred palace, my whimsical wonderland, my fortress of fabulousness!"

You laughed at her enthusiasm, setting your bag down. She had invited the BAU team over for a small get-together, but judging by the lack of noise , it seemed you were the first to arrive.

"Need help with anything?" you offered, making your way toward the kitchen.

Garcia waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, everything is fine. Completely fine." She smiled. Well, tried to smile. It was the kind of forced expression that made your profiler instincts tingle.

"Penelope," you said knowingly, tilting your head, practically demanding she spill whatever was on her mind.

She let out a dramatic sigh before reaching into the fridge and pulling out—well, something. A cake? A tragic attempt at one? You stared at it, searching for the right words but coming up empty. It was lopsided, unevenly frosted, and slightly collapsed on one side.

"What… happened?" You fought the urge to laugh, biting your lip because this—this was a disaster. And Garcia, who prided herself on being a self-proclaimed Cake Boss, was probably not in the mood for teasing.

"I got distracted," she muttered, poking at the cake with a defeated sigh.

"By…?" you prompted, raising an eyebrow.

She hesitated for a second before mumbling under her breath, "My neighbor."

Your eyes widened. "No way."

Garcia winced, realizing what she just admitted.

"You have a hot neighbor and you didn’t tell me?" you gasped dramatically, placing your hands on your hips as if personally offended. "Penelope Garcia, I thought we were best friends!"

"I was going to tell you!" Garcia defended, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

The two of you turned back to the cake, staring at it like it was a crime scene.

"Well… it doesn’t look that bad," you offered weakly.

Garcia shot you a pointed look, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"I mean, if you put enough frosting on it, maybe you can fix it?" You shrugged, trying to sound hopeful.

She let out a dramatic sigh, leaning against the counter. "There is no hope. It's a lost cause. A cake tragedy," she lamented, waving a hand over the mess.

You were about to reassure her when she suddenly narrowed her eyes at you, eyebrows raising in suspicion. "Wait a second… what on earth are you wearing?"

Confused, you followed her gaze, only to realize what she was looking at. Your socks. Or rather, your mismatched socks.

One was a plain dark blue. Totally normal. The other? A black sock covered in bright white physics equations.

Garcia pointed at it like she had just discovered a federal crime. "Excuse me, ma’am, is that… math?"

Your heart nearly stopped.

"Oh—uhm…" You cleared your throat, scrambling for an excuse. "It looked cute, so I got it," you mumbled.

A blatant lie.

Because the truth? The truth was something you and Spencer had agreed to keep between just the two of you. A small, silly little secret.

You had been dating for months now, and this morning, in the rush of getting ready, you had grabbed a random sock from Spencer’s drawer without thinking , before you sat down for breakfast—half-burnt pancakes he had attempted to make, which you had teased him about relentlessly before eating them anyway.

Because, well… he tried. And that was what mattered.

Garcia’s eyes stayed locked onto your sock, her red-framed glasses slipping slightly down her nose as she raised an eyebrow.

"Those letters and numbers are cute to you?" she asked, her tone dripping with suspicion.

"Yes?" You dragged out the word, hoping it sounded somewhat believable.

Then, suddenly—she gasped.

You barely had time to react before she squealed, clapping her hands together like she had just uncovered the biggest scoop of her life.

"I know what this is about!"

Your eyes went wide with panic. "Wait—what?"

"You bought those socks because they reminded you of our very own young Doctor Reid!" She placed a dramatic hand over her heart. "Oh, young love!"

Your stomach flipped.

"Oh, no—no, no, no—"

"You two need to get together!" she cut you off, pointing an accusing finger at you as if you were the one making bad choices and not the person currently clutching a failed cake.

You stared at her, mind scrambling for a response. Denying it would just make her more suspicious. And honestly? The idea of her thinking you just had a hopeless crush on Spencer was a lot safer than the truth—that you were already together.

So, with the best nonchalant face you could muster, you threw your hands up in surrender. "Okay, nope, let’s drop this topic." You forced a laugh, acting like she had totally nailed it.

Garcia squinted at you, clearly not buying how quickly you caved. But before she could pry any further, you seized the opportunity to change the subject.

"So," you said, quickly pointing at the crime scene of a cake, "do you have anything else besides that?"

Garcia let out a huff but allowed you to steer the conversation away. "Do I have anything else? Please." She flipped her hair dramatically. "I have cupcakes, chips, chocolate cookies, vanilla cookies—oh, I even have ice cream! And pizza! And—"

You held up a hand, laughing. "Okay, Penelope, I think we’ll be fine without the cake. That’s way more than enough food."

Before she could reply, the doorbell rang.

Garcia’s eyes lit up. "Our guests have arrived!"

She rushed to the door, and you followed close behind. As she swung it open, two familiar faces greeted you—Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid.

"Hello to my two favorite men!" Garcia beamed, stepping aside to let them in.

"Hey, you two pretty ladies," Derek greeted smoothly, flashing his signature grin.

Garcia wasted no time latching onto his arm. "Come with me," she commanded, already leading him toward the kitchen. "I need your opinion on something, and no, you don’t get to laugh at me."

You watched as she practically dragged him away, no doubt to show off the tragic cake she had created. The moment they disappeared from view, you turned to Spencer, already stepping into his space.

His arms were around you in an instant.

"Hi," he murmured into your hair, his hand gently rubbing your back.

You leaned back slightly to look at him, a small smile on your lips. "Hey. I missed you."

Before he could respond, the sound of Garcia and Derek’s voices echoing from the kitchen reminded you both to be careful. You took a quick step back just in case they suddenly reappeared.

Spencer, however, still looked amused. "You saw me four hours ago," he pointed out.

"Four hours are too long," you countered without hesitation.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head as his curls bounced slightly with the motion. "I missed you too," he admitted, his voice softer. "Are you coming over tonight?"

The two of you started walking toward the kitchen, keeping your conversation low.

"Are you going to try and make me eat your burnt pancakes again?" you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Spencer scoffed. "I never made you eat them."

"You literally guilt-tripped me into it," you shot back, smirking.

"I offered them. You chose to eat them."

"Because you pouted, Spencer."

Spencer opened his mouth to argue, but the debate was cut short as you both stepped into the kitchen, immediately taking in the sight before you.

Derek stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, holding a spatula covered in frosting as he attempted—and failed—to salvage Garcia’s cake. His expression was one of deep concentration, but the results were… questionable, at best.

"You’re trusting Morgan with your cake?" you asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at Garcia.

Garcia huffed, arms crossed. "I am running out of options here."

Derek turned, pointing the frosting-covered spatula at you. "I’ll have you know, sweetheart, I am excellent at—"

And that’s when he accidentally knocked over the bowl of frosting, sending a massive glob straight onto the floor.

Derek froze.

Garcia gasped.

You burst out laughing.

"Derek Morgan!" Garcia scolded, staring at the mess in horror.

Derek sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, that might have been my bad."

Spencer leaned toward you, voice barely above a whisper. "I’d like to point out that I never make this much of a mess when I cook."

You bit your lip to keep from laughing again. "That’s because you just burn things before they have a chance to make a mess."

Spencer rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

Spencer, ever the gentleman, grabbed a handful of tissues and crouched down, diligently wiping up the frosting disaster while Garcia stood and dusted off her hands. Derek, still determined to salvage what remained of the cake, muttered to himself as he spread frosting across the lopsided layers.

You stood in the doorway, watching the chaos unfold with an amused smile.

But that smile vanished in an instant.

Garcia froze. Her eyes locked onto something.

“Your sock,” she said, her voice eerily calm.

Your stomach dropped.

She wasn’t looking at your sock this time. No—she was pointing at Spencer, who had just finished tossing the tissue into the trash.

“My sock?” Spencer repeated, confused, as he followed her gaze down to his feet.

The sock in question—the one covered in physics equations—sat comfortably on his left foot.

The exact same design as the one currently hidden beneath your pant leg.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Garcia’s head snapped up, eyes locking onto yours. Her expression changed instantly—realization flooding over her as she noticed the wide, guilty look on your face.

Her lips parted slightly in shock. "Oh my god," she whispered under her breath.

Spencer straightened up, now thoroughly lost. “What? What’s happening?”

Derek, finally sensing that something was going down, stopped his attempt at cake decoration and turned toward Garcia, his hands still coated in frosting. “Uh… what’s going on?”

Garcia ignored him, still staring at you.

“You lied,” she murmured, eyes narrowing.

The room was dead silent.

Derek turned his attention to you, his head tilting slightly. "Sweetheart, what is happening right now?" he asked slowly.

Garcia, on the other hand, was already spiraling. Her hand shot out, finger trembling as she pointed between you and Spencer, her mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

"They—they—" she sputtered, eyes wide.

Spencer took a cautious step back from her, moving instinctively closer to you as if that would somehow protect him from Garcia’s inevitable explosion. "What is happening?" he muttered under his breath, barely audible.

And then—

"They're wearing matching socks!"

Garcia's yell practically shook the apartment walls, making Spencer physically jump.

"They’re—oh my god—they’re wearing one sock each from the same set! That means—they swapped! That means—"

Her eyes practically bulged out of her head as the realization fully hit her.

"Oh. My. God. You're dating!"

Derek’s gaze snapped downward, confirming what Garcia had just screamed into existence. His eyes flickered from your foot to Spencer’s, then back up at you two.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face. "No way," he drawled, shaking his head in disbelief.

Spencer, who had remained mostly silent through this entire catastrophe, finally looked down at his own foot. Then yours. Then back up.

His mouth fell open.

And then it closed.

Then opened again.

Oh no.

He looked horrified.

Which, honestly, wasn’t the best reaction right now.

Panic seized your brain. Without thinking, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"No, we’re not."

The words left your lips so fast it was almost impressive.

Except… yeah. That was the worst attempt at a lie in human history.

Because standing right next to you, Spencer Reid—Dr. Genius IQ Spencer Reid—was standing frozen, mouth still slightly open, his brain seemingly buffering at an alarming rate.

Which, to Garcia and Derek, said more than enough.

Garcia gasped. Derek laughed.

Spencer blinked. "Wait, are we—are we lying? Are we—"

"Yes!" You whisper-hissed. "Lie, Spencer!"

But it was too late.

Derek leaned against the counter, arms crossed, shaking his head with a smug look on his face. "Damn, pretty boy. Never thought I’d see the day."

Garcia, on the other hand, squealed, practically vibrating on the spot. "How long?! How long have you been together?!Who made the first move?! Oh my god, were there love letters? Did he quote Shakespeare?! Tell me everything."

Spencer looked at you, helpless. You looked at him, equally helpless.

The interrogation was relentless. Garcia and Derek took turns, firing off question after question as you and Spencer sat there like two deer caught in headlights.

“How long?”

“Who made the first move?”

“How was your first date?”

Spencer had handled questioning criminals far better than this. But right now he was crumbling under Garcia’s sheer determination.

You were no better. Every time you tried to dodge a question, Garcia found another way to corner you.

And the moment JJ walked in?

Garcia didn’t even greet her. Didn’t even pretend to act normal.

"JJ!" she practically shrieked, making the blonde woman pause mid-step. "Forget hello, forget small talk—did you know these two are dating?!"

JJ blinked, eyes darting between you and Spencer. "What?"

"Matching socks. Lying. Stammering. Busted!" Garcia announced dramatically, pointing at you like she had just solved a murder case.

JJ’s expression shifted immediately into surprise, then amusement. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at her lips. "Oh," she said, crossing her arms. "That makes so much sense."

And it didn’t stop there.

Each time a new member of the team arrived, Garcia immediately hit them with the bombshell, practically vibrating with excitement.

Emily? "Did you know these two have been secretly together?!"

Rossi? "our resident genius has a girlfriend! I repeat—a girlfriend!!"

Hotch? "Hotch! I know you don't like drama but this is important! These two are in love!"

You and Spencer just stood there, completely shocked, as the team celebrated your relationship.