#these people sound like little kids who don't want to eat something they don't know and just decide it's gross and poison

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 27 || The Sweet Moments (PT. 2)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, a tinge of angst, & lots of fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.7k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——AFTER THE EVENTS OF WHAT took place in Toji's car, he gave you the option of either sleeping in the guest bedroom of his home or his bedroom. You chose the first option and he was sure to warn you that his son would probably return home sometime that morning so you'd have to stay hidden in there during that time.

You agreed to that and when you got into his home, Toji had given you a spare shirt of his to sleep in. The night went on perfectly fine and he even gave you medicine for your throat before he went to bed, something you gratefully took since you could feel the slight upcoming scratch in your esophagus.

The following morning, you woke up to dim sunlight resting upon the side of your face, making you groan a little before you turned over. You could hear talking coming from somewhere outside the bedroom you lay in.

There were two voices, one obviously Toji's and the other sounding like a smaller and younger person. After laying there for a few minutes trying to listen and wake yourself up at the same time, you eventually got up and decided to be nosy.

The talking you heard slowly transformed into bickering as you neared the shut bedroom door, pressing your ear against it lightly and listening in on the conversation taking place down the hall and in the nearby kitchen.

"Please no," A child's voice was heard.

The sound of a scoff hit your ears, "What do you mean please no??" Toji replied, "I make the best sandwiches..."

"Dad, every grilled cheese you've ever made has been burnt." His son replied, "And every time you make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich... you put like three pounds of peanut butter on it."

"You said you liked peanut butter," Toji argued back with a shrug.

"Not that much." The child grumbled, "And even the regular sandwiches you make always have too much of something..."

Toji frowned, "No one told you to be so damn picky... If you want it done right maybe you should come in here and do it your damn self."

You can hear the kid laugh at his father with footsteps following behind the sound. The footsteps get closer to the bedroom you're in and you hear his voice just outside it, "You're the one who keeps trying to make them in the first place. I never asked you to."

"Then why do you keep eatin' them?" Toji shouts to the boy as he furthers away from him.

"I gotta' eat something... even if it tastes like shit..." You hear the child curse, just under his breath as he passes your door.

Toji raises a brow, "I know I didn't just hear you curse."

"Can you even hear anything, old man...?" His kid fires back, the sound of his footsteps heard entering a room just down the hall from you-- most likely his bedroom.

"Oi, don't make me come back there!" Toji shouts.

"And do what?" The boy mutters sassily, "Force me to eat another dry chicken sandwich with no water like you did last week?"

There's a second of silence and you try not to laugh at their bickering. Toji sounds a bit annoyed now, "You said you didn't want anything to drink.."

"I wasn't expecting to choke on fourteen pounds of chicken and two slices of bread that were the same size as my laptop..." The kid explains overdramatically.

Toji scoffs, "Whatever, hurry up and get ready before you're late."

"Like you'd care..." You hear the kid say very quietly to himself.

"What was that?" Toji calls out.

There's a moment of quietness and you hear his kid playfully respond, "I knew you were going deaf." He says before shutting his bedroom door.

You move to open yours at the sound and peek out, seeing that it is in fact the child's bedroom that he just disappeared into. Toji scoffs within his kitchen and you take a moment to slip out of the bedroom you're in and join him there.

When he spots you emerging from around the corner, he raises a brow. For starters, he's wearing a t-shirt that hugs his torso, revealing that insane physique of his. You gawk at it slightly as you make your way over to him, walking around the counter and approaching his side to see what he's doing.

"Sounds like you need help out here," You whisper to him teasingly.

Toji smiles slightly at your words, realizing that you've heard just about everything. "Kid doesn't like anything I make."

You tilt your head as you stare at the sandwich he's currently making. It looks like it's supposed to be peanut butter and jelly but it's definitely coming out as more jelly with a hint of peanut butter. A hand comes up over your mouth as you try not to laugh at it.

Toji looks to his side and down at you with a frown, "I know you're not laughing right now."

"Mr. Fushiguro..." You snicker, "He's never gonna like anything you make if you do it like that."

"How the hell am I supposed to do it then?" Toji grumbles.

Both of your voices are quiet enough so that his kid couldn't hear anything.

"Watch and learn," You hum before moving to make the sandwich in a way you think anyone would enjoy.

Toji moves to the side a bit as you create an entirely new sandwich, leaving the one he was working on idle. He watches as you spread peanut butter across two slices of bread and then put an even amount of jelly in the middle, bringing the two slices of bread together and then cutting it in half diagonally.

"Aaand done," You say cheerfully, turning to look at the man beside you to see his eyes wide. You chuckle, "What?"

Toji blinks, "He's not gonna eat that."

"Wanna bet?"

"Sure," Toji replies confidently, moving to finish the sandwich he'd been making previously, "He's gonna hate both of them. Kid' hates everything."

"I'm not sure that's true," You hum, watching as Toji proceeds to make his version of the sandwich.

"You'll see." He replies, "Now, go back in the room before he comes out here."

You sigh, "Fiiine." Then, as you walk away, you turn back with a curious brow raised, "What's his name?"

Toji shrugs, "Don't remember."

You blink, spotting a world's best dad mug on the nearby counter, "You're joking right...?"

Toji chuckles and looks up and at you, "His name's Megumi."

You nod and smile before dipping back around the corner and into the room you'd previously been in. You make sure to quietly shut the door behind you and then patiently wait to hear Megumi emerge from his room.

After about five more minutes, you hear his door open and footsteps rush past the room you're in. Megumi is heard in the kitchen taking a seat at one of the barstools.

"Here," Toji sighs, "Try these two before you go and tell me which one is better."

Megumi's face scrunches up, "If you made them, then they both probably taste like shi-"

"Just eat the damn sandwich." Toji cuts him off, frowning at his son in an annoyed manner.

With a roll of his eyes, Megumi goes for the one Toji made first, taking a single bite and dramatically making a disgusted face in reaction. "Daaad, there's like two whole jars of jelly on thiiiiis," He whines.

Toji's expression remains blank, "Yeah yeah, now eat the other one."

"I'm scared..." Megumi mumbles with a pout as he moves for the second sandwich. Toji leans over the counter and watches his son take one bite and then raise his brows. "You made this?" Megumi questions.

"Yep," Toji lies, now frowning at the fact that there's a noticeable difference in his son's reaction to his sandwich versus yours.

"Bullshi-"

"Megumi if you curse one more time, I'm throwin' you out that window over there," Toji cuts off sarcastically.

Megumi sighs, nearly chuckling at his father's dramatic threat, "But you curse all the time."

"I'm a grown-ass man."

"See?" The kid scoffs before moving out of his seat and grabbing the second sandwich he tasted. He then moves to shove the rest of it into a ziplock bag and then drops it into his bookbag, leaving the sandwich his father made on the counter. "Anyways, thanks for not making this one too bad."

"Oh, so you like the sandwiches like that?" Toji asks.

"Yeah, it's even. Not too much peanut butter or jelly. Make all of them like that please." Megumi requests as he moves to grab his shoes.

Toji watches his son near the front door of their home, "I'll try."

His kid nods his head in response before opening the door and making sure his bookbag is on properly, "Thanks. Bye Dad."

"Mhm, cya." Toji hums in response while moving to clean the mess made in the kitchen.

You hear the front door shut and then wait a few minutes before emerging from the bedroom yet again. When you get to the kitchen, you notice the sandwich you made is completely gone and Toji's is still sitting in the same place. Then, you see the older man straightening his kitchen up.

"What was that you said about him hating both sandwiches?" You ask tauntingly as you cross your arms.

Toji sends you a look, "Shut up."

You chuckle, "He seems like a good kid," You say to change the subject.

"He's alright," Toji grumbles while snatching up his abandoned sandwich from the counter. "If he keeps fuckin' with me I'm gonna sell him," He says sarcastically.

Your eyes go wide, "Sell him?!"

He shrugs, "He'd go for a lot of money too, I bet."

"Mr. Fushiguro that's your son." You say, emphasizing your words.

Toji starts laughing, "I know, I know. I just kiddin'."

"Uhuh..." You hum, nodding and smiling at him.

You end up helping him straighten up his kitchen a bit and afterward, he offers to drive you home. You didn't want to run the possibility of Shoko or anyone else you know seeing Toji drop you off so instead, you told him you'd call a friend to come get you.

With a shrug, Toji said okay and then he went off to prepare himself for his day. You ended up putting your dress back on and leaving the shirt he gave you neatly folded up on the bed you slept on.

After which, you give Toji one last bye before heading outside. It was decently early in the morning and the chilly fall breeze was brushing up against your exposed skin as you walked down the street a bit. You didn't want to call your 'friend' (Gojo) to come pick you up from right outside Toji's house so you made sure to distance yourself a bit.

Luckily for you, there was a bench just down the street that you found yourself sitting at. The phone call you made to Gojo was relatively short and how quickly he got to where you were surprised you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"Did you fuck Mr. Fushiguro again?" Was Gojo's first question to you as soon as you got into his car and buckled yourself in.

You release a sigh before responding. "Yep. That's another six thousand if I'm not mistaken," You claim, turning your head to look at him with an innocent little smile on your face.

He blinks, "You're lucky I love you, y'know that right?"

There's a pulse felt within your heart. Just when is he going to stop saying that? "Am I?" You ask.

Gojo scoffs, "Yeah, do you even know how much money I've given you so far?"

You shrug casually, "Am I supposed to be keeping track?"

"I mean you don't have to but I'm surprised you don't," Gojo hums, smiling a little, "You're like a spoiled princess now..."

"I'm not sure princesses get paid to fuck hot guys," You utter before looking away from him and his stupid smile that makes your heart rate increase. "And wait, how did you know I slept with Mr. Fushiguro again?"

"Uhm, he lives down this street. I babysat his kid and I know where they live, remember?" Gojo explains.

"Oh... Wait, speaking of that... Satoru," You turn your head to him and you see light pink decorating his cheeks at the mere sound of his first name leaving your lips. He looks like an idiot in love and you think you hate every second of it, "What do you owe everyone on the list? Why are you in debt?"

His eyes widen and Gojo swallows hard, quickly snatching his gaze off of you and moving his hands to the steering wheel in front of him so that he can start driving. "Does it matter?" He asks you, his brows furrowing.

"I mean, I'm just curious." You say flatly, "How do you even come up with the gift of a whore being your form of payment? And again, what do you owe-"

"Did you just call yourself a whore?" Gojo cuts off.

"Yeah, it's not the first time-"

"Stop that." He says, making a left down the next street, "You're not just some whore, okay?"

"Ohhh so I'm a special whore? Got it." You utter sarcastically.

"I'm serious, don't call yourself a whore. That's not what you are." He says sternly.

"Fine, a slut then." You argue, shrugging a little, "Either way, I'm still spreading my legs for a bunch of guys."

"First off, sluts don't get paid to sleep around, you do." Gojo clarifies, "Secondly, I'm forcing you to do these things so in a sense, you're not a whore."

"But... I am." You argue anyway, "That's what you're using me for so that's what I've become."

"You don't have to claim that, it's degrading your character."

You scoff, "And since when do you care about me degrading my character, Satoru? It's the fucking truth. I fuck people and get paid, know what that means?" You utter sarcastically and slightly bothered, "I'm a whore."

Gojo slams on the brakes and stops the car at a stop sign, turning to you with anger written all over his face, "You're not a whore! Stop fucking saying that." He shouts.

That was his first time ever yelling at you.

A moment of silence fills the air followed by his harsh tone. Hell, you don't even think you've ever seen Gojo so upset over something before. It was weird to see him like this. All the aggravation in his tone and in his expression over a word that's been loosely used plenty of times before?

Your eyes narrow at him, in no world would you let Gojo yell at you and just sit there and take it. "The hell are you so upset for? You've called me a whore yourself-"

"No, I haven't." He interrupts, "Never in my life have I referred to you as a whore."

Your face scrunches up, "Uhm, yes you have? After the first time I slept with Mr. Fushiguro and you saw Choso had taken me home, you called me a whore because you thought I slept with three guys in one day." You recall flawlessly.

Not flawlessly enough though, "No, sweetheart. I asked if you were becoming a whore. I implied it but I never flat-out called you that shit."

"Implying it is practically calling me it, dumbass."

"It's not. If I imply the fact that someone's a bitch, does that make them a bitch?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Exactly. And when I asked if you were becoming a whore it was because I was pissed, not that my emotions make up for it but still." Gojo rambles. He's so passionately aggressive about this topic for some odd reason, "Plus, I don't know if you forgot but I literally told you I never agreed on you becoming a whore."

"I didn't forget but did you forget what I responded to that with?" You ask, annoyed by this conversation. "I asked you if that's what I've been from the start."

"Okay, and-"

"And your response to me was maybe." You finish.

He nods his head and then smiles a bit, still appearing angered, "Then I said the list was different because it was supposed to be you fucking someone once and getting paid, not multiple times."

"Okay, well it's not me fucking someone once. Get over it and pay me like you promised to." You respond simply.

"You don't have to ever worry about me not paying you, sweets. That's not what this conversation was about to begin with." Gojo replies, "I just don't want you to think or feel like you're a whore because you're not."

"That's what I feel like though. I fuck then get paid." You say blatantly, shrugging. "I don't understand how else I'm supposed to feel."

"Lessen the number of times you fuck people and maybe you won't feel like that." He suggests.

That set's you off just right, an annoyed smirk pulling at your lips, "Well, sorry that last night Sukuna left me horny and I happened to run into Mr. Fushiguro at the right time." You say sarcastically.

Gojo opens his mouth to reply but he's cut off by you.

"Sorry that I wanted to have sex last night. Sorry that I got into your car and reminded you that you have to pay me for it because it's what you agreed on." You go off, "Oh, and sorry that these actions of mine all stem from you and this stupid fucking list!"

For a moment, Gojo's quiet. He simply stares at you, the car having yet to move since he stopped it. With perfect timing, a car pulls up behind the two of you. Gojo looks away from you and moves to park the car somewhere.

After that, he sighs and rests his head back, "So you're blaming this on me?"

"Who the fuck else am I supposed to blame?" You snap instantly, having not cooled off at all, "I didn't record myself and threaten me with it. I don't owe a whore to a bunch of people. And I didn't start this damn list."

"Right." He nods, "But you left your door wide open-"

"So that gave you the right to come in and record me?" You fire back.

Gojo scoffs, feeling pissed. "Told' you that was an accident."

"As if I fucking believe that."

"Okay well, you're still the one doing extra shit that has nothing to do with the list-"

"Y'know, I didn't hear you complain this much last week when I slept with you." You cut off, "Funny how you only find this much to bitch about when I'm fucking anyone that's not you more than once."

"First off, I'm not bitching about anything." Gojo clarifies. He's upset with you for the first time and it's unusual to see and experience, "I'm being serious with you right now. You complained about feeling like a whore even though I'm trying to tell you that's not what you are, then, your argument to that is the list? The things that are making you feel like a whore are the things you're bringing on yourself."

Your face scrunches up, "What-"

"I never told you to fuck Suguru more than once. Nobody told you that you had to fuck Mr. Fushiguro twice, and god knows how many times you and Choso had sex." Gojo expresses, "If you feel like a whore, that's not because of me-"

"I wouldn't have slept with any of those people in the first place if it wasn't for you." You remind him for what feels like the millionth time, "Did you forget that?"

"No, I know. But even though it's because of me, you wouldn't have felt like a whore if you only slept with them once like you were supposed to."

"Right," You smile and scoff, "Sure."

"And even if you did feel like one," Gojo slowly turns his head to look at you, his eyes dead serious, "I'd tell you a thousand times over again; you are not a whore."

"Well," You purse your lips together, "I'm turning into one and nothing you say will make me feel like I'm not-"

Gojo interrupts you by saying your name. You think your entire body freezes at the sound. It's always been sweetheart or sweets or love or any affectionate nickname. The last time you heard Gojo say your first name was the day the list started.

You try to continue anyway, "Like I-I'm not a-"

He utters your name yet again, those blue eyes of his drilling into the side of your face.

"N-No, let me finish," You say, your voice softening unintentionally, "There's nothing you can say to make me feel like I'm not a wh-"

First and last, your full name leaves his lips in a low tone.

You grit your teeth and finally shut up.

"Look at me," Gojo orders. You don't and he scoffs. Gojo tips his head to the side a bit and narrows his eyes, "Fucking look at me." He repeats, no malice heard in his tone.

With a roll of your eyes and a huff, you turn to him, "What?"

"You're not a whore." He says, his tone going completely soft, "If you want someone to demean like that, demean me, not yourself."

You blink, not knowing what to say to him anymore.

"But please," Gojo's gaze goes gentle, his face twisting up in sorrow, "Don't call yourself a whore."

"Satoru." You say, voice completely calm, "I-"

For one last time, Gojo cuts you off by voicing your name in a gentle tone. "You are not a whore." He whispers.

You swallow down whatever arguments you had to that. You have no idea what it was about his tone and the look in his eyes but suddenly, you felt that need to argue with him lifted.

"Okay," You whisper in response.

"Say it," Gojo instructs.

With another swallow, "I'm not a whore." You tell him.

A small smile spreads across his face, "Thank you." He utters.

It was weird. Is this the same man who blackmails you? He's whoring you out and yet doesn't want you to refer to yourself as such? Why? What's so significant about that word that you can't call yourself that?

"And uh," Gojo looks away from you, "I'm sorry for yelling at you..."

He mimics that of a sad puppy in a way. His look is almost... cute?

You decide to look away from him as well, "It's fine."

"Are you sure?" He asks timidly as if he regrets blowing up on you so suddenly.

You shrug, "Not really. I don't understand why the hell you got so mad in the first place..."

"I just..." Gojo trails off a little as he stares out the window in front of him, losing himself in thought for a minute. "I don't like hearing you talk about yourself like that. That's why I said if you're looking for someone to demean, demean me. If you're angry or frustrated with your situation," He glances over to you, "Take it out on me."

You blink, "So you just want me to beat up on you whenever I'm mad?"

"If it'll stop you from calling yourself any degrading names then, yes." Gojo expresses to you.

"This is..." You hesitate on your next words but eventually glance at him and continue, "This is oddly sweet of you?"

His eyes meet yours for only a moment before he looks away, "I wish I could be sweet to you all the time."

"You're sweet when you say I love you..." You tell him honestly, quickly adding on an, "I guess..." So that you don't praise him too much.

Gojo perks up and looks over at you, "I am?"

You look in the opposite direction, "I think anyone would be but, yes, you are."

He smiles, "I l-"

"Don't." You cut off, already knowing he was about to utter those three words to you.

He chuckles, "Sorry."

"Anyways, uhm... Don't I have to meet Nanami tonight?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Gojo remembers, moving to comfort himself in his seat since he has no plans on driving until your conversation is completely over. He rests his head on the palm of his hand, holding himself up against the console in between you two. "So remember when I told you he goes to this bar every Friday night?"

"Mhm." You hum in response.

"Well, I did some more research on it and it's more of this fancy nightclub."

A little scoff leaves you and you glance at Gojo, "Nanami goes to a fancy nightclub every Friday night?"

"Okay, it's like seventy-five percent bar and twenty-five percent club." He explains further.

You narrow your eyes at him, "So what are you saying all this for...?"

"For starters, there's a dress code," Gojo says.

"Ohhh, so it's a fancy fancy nightclub." You reply playfully.

He smiles, "Yeah, you'll have to dress pretty classy to get in."

"Okay and if I had to guess," Your head turns to face him completely, "You already bought me a dress for this?"

"Fifteen different ones actually," Gojo corrects.

"F-Fifteen? How much did you spend?!"

He shrugs, "They weren't expensive..."

"The last dress you told me wasn't expensive was almost a thousand dollars..." You state blankly.

"Oh," His eyebrows raise, "Is that considered expensive?"

You scoff in surprise, "Seriously, where the fuck are you getting this money from?"

"Onlyfans," He says with a wink.

"Genuinely can't tell if you're joking or not right now..." You reply, smiling and yet shaking your head at him.

Gojo chuckles at your reaction, "I'm joking, don't worry."

"So where's the money come from?"

"Well, I am popular online and I get paid a lot from that I guess."

You raise a brow, "What exactly do you do online again...?"

"Uhhh..." He trails off, his eyes wandering away from yours.

You chuckle at the way he avoids your eyes, "...You post thirst traps, don't you?"

"N-No..." Gojo mumbles.

You begin to move for your phone, shrugging casually, "I'm gonna check."

Gojo's eyes snap back onto you and they go wide in worry, "Oh my god, please don't."

"Why are you so worried?" You laugh, "I thought you'd be all cocky about this kinda' thing."

He pouts, "Why would I be cocky about you seeing the content I put out..."

"I mean anything online is nothing I haven't seen before." You point out simply, knowing that no amount of thirst traps will compare to literally having sex with the man.

"I..." Gojo swallows hard, "Listen it's not the kind of thirst traps you're thinking of..."

You pause the movement of your fingers and look at him, raising a brow, "So, what, you're not half-naked with red LED lights in the background?"

"Not really." He hums.

"Oh..." You frown dramatically, "Booooringgg."

Gojo chuckles at you before deciding to give you a hint about what he puts out, "If you had to pick one feature about me that you think girls would be into, what would it be?"

"Uhm..." You stare at him for a moment, "Why are you asking me this as if you're literally not Gojo Satoru?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" He blinks.

"You're the walking definition of sex appeal."

His brows raise at your words, "Am I?"

"Human embodiment of sexy." You continue to thoughtlessly compliment.

"Oh really?" Gojo smirks, "Keep going..."

"You're-," You suddenly stop yourself and narrow your eyes at him "Y'know what, I think you get it by now."

"Mhm..." He hums, having enjoyed hearing you compliment him, "Now, tell me just one feature you think girls find overly attractive."

"Just one? There's so many though."

"C'mon, just one."

You shrug, "Your eyes."

He blinks, a noticeable shade of blush spreading across his cheeks immediately in reaction to your words. Gojo is oddly adorable when receiving compliments from you, almost as if he's not used to it.

He bats his eyelashes at you, "My eyes?"

"You literally have blue eyes and white eyelashes," You say flatly, "Why are you acting like you don't get that all the time?"

"I mean it's different coming from you."

"How?"

"That means that's the first thing you notice about me..." He murmurs quietly, nearly missing your ears, "But, no that's not it. Now name something else you think is attractive."

Your eyes search the man for a moment, gazing at his clear skin, pretty face, gorgeous hair, sharp jawline, remembering his abs, thinking about his arms and how they feel, and then finding yourself staring at his hands.

You blink, "Your ha..." You cut yourself off, not wanting to give away the genuine attraction you have for his hands. "Your abs-"

Gojo cuts you off, having heard what you were about to say, "You had the first one right."

"Your hands?!" You gasp.

He smiles, "Why do you sound surprised as if you don't like them yourself-"

"Wait, oh my god, so that means you do hand and finger thirst traps?!" You say with a slightly dropped jaw.

Gojo looks away from you, "On one of my pages, yes. Though, I still don't get the appeal-"

"Gojo your hands are literally perfect." You interrupt.

His ears redden but he looks at you again, moving to put his hand out, "What about them are perfect?"

You inspect the part of his body in question, moving to drag a finger along his skin, "The veins... the length... how soft they are..." You slowly get carried away as you feel them, "...how warm... how deep inside me they reach..."

"Woah," Gojo can't help but flash a toothy smile, "I don't think any of my fans can feel that last one sweetheart-"

"That makes it better for some reason, honestly." You shrug.

"Yeah?" He bites his bottom lip a little, "Y'like knowing that you're the only one who gets to have my fingers deep inside your pu-"

"Stop." You cut off, your face flushing as you look away from him.

He leans just a bit closer to you, "So you can say it but I can't?"

"Your version was going to be far more explicit." You hum, avoiding those teasing looks of his.

"So? It's true." Gojo replies, watching as you feel his hand, "You are the only girl that I've ever fingered after all..."

Your movements come to a stop and you look at him, "Wait what?"

"Hm?" Gojo hums, shifting his hand to hold yours suddenly.

You wanted to stop the gesture but you didn't, "What do you mean I'm the only girl you've ever fingered...?"

His shoulders rise into a shrug and his eyes remain on how small your hand is in his, "Never felt like fingering a girl before you."

"Then how..." You trail off as you recall that moment with him before shaking your head, "Nevermi-"

"How did I know how to do it so well?" He finishes for you.

"I mean... yeah..."

"For starters," Gojo spreads his hand out, having your palm rest over his and comparing the size difference, "I have long fingers so naturally I reach deeper inside you."

"Okay..." You murmur.

"And everything else I just figured out as I did it." He says cheekily, flicking his gaze up to your face, "Didn't expect you to cum from that alone though-"

"Okay okay," Your face flushes a deep shade, "We don't have to talk about it anymore..."

"Aw, why?" He coos, teasing you, "I like remembering that time. Y'know, thinking about how tight your pussy felt around my fingers-"

"Jesus Satoru," Your eyes widened at his lewd words, "Stop it."

"How warm and wet you were for me." He continues nonetheless.

"Satoru-"

A smile spreads across his face at how embarrassed you get in reaction to his words, "The way you moaned my name almost made me cream my pants too-"

"Satoru." You say sternly.

Gojo pulls his lower lip into his mouth for a moment, carefully letting it slide back out as he stares at your face, "Hm? Yes, sweetheart?"

"Stop it." You order.

His fingers suddenly curl in between yours before he pulls your hand up to his mouth, gently kissing the back of it. "Yes ma'am..." Gojo whispers against you.

"Anyway..." You whisper, ignoring how fast your heart is beating, "So taking videos of your hands is how you make money?"

"It's how I make some of it, yeah," Gojo replies, just barely taking his lips off your hand.

You nod, "I see... Well, you're gonna have to explain where the rest of your money is coming from one day because I swear if I find out the money you've given me is illegal or something-"

"It's not, I swear." He reassures you. "I'd give my life savings to you before ever putting you in a position like that."

It's weird but, you smile slightly at his words. Then, you watch in comfortable silence as Gojo moves to kiss the back of your hand over and over. His lips are so soft against your skin, so affectionate, and so utterly loving that it almost infects you.

The hand kisses are enough to give you butterflies and the moment you feel that, you're quick to casually pull your hand away.

Gojo pouts at the loss of your hand but he doesn't say anything, simply moving to finally start driving again.

According to him, you've got fifteen dresses to go through and pick before the night approaches, and then after that; you'll finally meet Nanami.

Or at least, that was the plan. You weren't expecting things to go down the way it did.

No one could prepare you for the feelings that lay deep within the male in the car with you right now...

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[lazycats-stuff]

Could you do batfam x baby bat reader? Where reader is a tiny force of chaos who likes to run around and cause mischief, and the only person he’s perfectly behaved with (aside from Alfred) is Damian, and while the rest of the family is trying to figure out why, Damian is just being smug cause even as an infant his little brother obviously knows who his superior brother is

Oh that would totally happen. I mean, Alfred already has authority, but Damian? Bruce would definitely be confused.

Summary: (Y/N) knows that Damian is not to be messed with. Bruce is about to give up parenting.

Warnings: family fluff, Damian is a cocky one, but in a good way.

Amongst Bruce's children, Damian was the only one who was biological. Was is the most important part. Bruce was notified one night that he had a son and that the mom passed away during childbirth. Bruce was shocked to hear it, but made a paternity test to make sure that (Y/N) is his.

After a few minutes over the Batcomputer, Bruce confirmed it and quickly took his son back to the manor. (Y/N) was a small bundle, born as a premature baby, but he wasn't in a danger zone. Thankfully. However, he had to eat every few hours and both Alfred and Bruce made sure he ate to grow.

Of course, there was no abundance of shock and overall jealousy. A baby takes up a lot of time away from the other kids and it was just a complete mess for a few months. But all of them grew to like the little boy, but Damian was the one who had the hardest time doing it.

Damian enjoyed being the only biological son and more importantly, he loved throwing it in his brother's faces that he is superior to all of them. Of course, with another biological son, that went south and he was mad. He didn't want anything to do with the little boy, but (Y/N) grew on him.

Damian became especially protective of his little baby brother and he has swore to himself that he would kill again if necessary. Just for his brother. Damian was sure that Jason has swore the same thing too, especially since the incident at the gala when he was taken for ransom.

It was painful to see (Y/N) in the kidnapper's arms, crying out to his family to save him. Damian got a few hits when (Y/N) was secured and it took his brothers and about 3 more GCPD officers to contain him. Of course, the officers allowed him to get a few hits. If there is one thing you don't do in the justice system, more so if you know what happens to people who are in jail for messing with children and that one thing would be messing with children.

Especially with babies and slightly older children. They are the most defenseless ones out there and if you hurt them, well, you are in a world of hurt and pain.

Without a doubt.

Damian is the first one to act on it, right after inmates. Inmates were making sure that the bastards got what they deserved. After that evening, Damian held (Y/N) the entire night, just being there, making sure that his brother is safe.

He woke up at the slightest suspicious sound from (Y/N), observing and listening to the sounds.

As years have passed, (Y/N) has become chaotic and overall just mischievous child. There was never a dull moment with (Y/N) and Damian smiled every time that (Y/N) did something,

Bruce and the rest didn't want to stop (Y/N) and punish him for it, but they had to set firm boundaries, otherwise there would be a problem in the future and taming that problem would be difficult beyond belief.

(Y/N)'s mischievous side was first discovered when he was in kindergartens. It has started innocently and then it turned into watch out type of situation.

It was more than harmless, but still enough to scold the little boy. Scold may be too harsh, but they they had to put up firm boundaries. But (Y/N) still did it and it was something nice to see. Children should be children and Bruce wanted (Y/N) to be a child.

But still, boundaries had to be made.

But there was something about it all that made (Y/N) not want really behave. Bruce had no authority, Jason had no authority, Dick had no authority and Tim had no authority. None of it. (Y/N) often laughed at whatever they had to say.

Alfred had authority, but lets be honest, Alfred has all of the authority in the household and over the people living in it. That is an unspoken rule and Alfred could make (Y/N) behave quickly and efficiently. It made everyone feel like they were the ones being scolded.

And besides, without Alfred this house would crumble. Lets be honest, there is no Wayne Manor without Alfred. He just has that silent authority and nobody dared to defy the man.

If Alfred says, you have to go to sleep and eat, you are going to sleep and eat. Of course, (Y/N) felt it and has always behaved for Alfred.

But Damian was a whole another phenomenon in the house. It was shown when Alfred wasn't home and there was no one with enough authority to keep (Y/N) in line. However, there was Damian and Bruce saw it.

(Y/N) was being mischievous and Bruce has kept his eye on him, but he must have turned around for just a moment and (Y/N) was gone. Bruce freaked out a little bit when he couldn't find his son. He looked around everywhere and felt a little bit scared when he saw that the doors leading to the garden were open.

Bruce quickly ran outside and stopped when he heard Damian scolding (Y/N). Bruce could hear something about trying to climb a tall tree and something about being seriously hurt. Bruce watched from afar and (Y/N) looked genuinely apologetic.

Damian wasn't harsh in his scolding, but (Y/N) looked sad and Damian gave him a hug to comfort him and made him promise that the two would play later today. (Y/N) loved puzzles and Bruce always made sure to buy more puzzles for (Y/N).

His brain is better without all the excessive technology either way.

Bruce asked Damian how he did it, but Damian refused to answer, simply leaving with a smirk. Bruce sighed quietly as he stood in the garden alone, trying to process it all.

That wasn't the only incident that Bruce witnessed and it soon involved his brothers too and Alfred.

Little by little, everyone started seeing that (Y/N) was slowly behaving when Damian simply called his name out. It looked like Damian has developed a great sense for when (Y/N) was going to do something that would either hurt him or just somebody else and (Y/N) listened.

Alfred was thoroughly impressed with how a single word, (Y/N) would calm down. Alfred also had the same thing with (Y/N). A simple call out of his name and the boy would settle, knowing exactly that Alfred is not messing around.

But then again, (Y/N) knows who is the boss.

And Damian had his own theory why (Y/N) listened to him. There is a little thing called a superior brother. And a biological connection too and yes, Bruce has argued that he is the father, but Damian has simply said that he is superior.

Of course, his brothers weren't safe from the superior remarks.

Jason was ready to deck Damian every time he has heard that remark, but still remained curious as to how (Y/N) listens to Damian and not him. He is a better brother.

Tim didn't care, happy that there was someone other than Alfred could keep (Y/N) in line and safe. Even if that someone is Damian with whom he isn't in a great relationship, but he is trying to be civil because of (Y/N). And it was working, sort off at least.

Dick was just jealous that (Y/N) listened to Damian. Don't get him wrong, he loves Damian with all of his heart and is happy that he isn't mad anymore about being the other biological sibling, but it was still painful for his heart.

What did just Damian have that they didn't, excluding Alfred of course.

Well, Damian has an answer for all of them, with his signature smirk inherited from his father, the infamous 'batsmirk.'

" He actually knows who is his superior brother, no? "

Damian said with so much smugness and Jason wanted nothing more than to deck his brother with so much force that would removed Damian's head from his body.

Bruce choose to observe instead and Dick was just plane sad at the mere authority that Damian seemed to exude. Silent authority, just like Alfred.

Tim was curious too and he is just going to wait to see how the situation unfolds in the following years. This is going to make an interesting case and observation of (Y/N)'s growing up.

[inkskinned]

they don't see it, because it is around them like air. to them, it would have to be through movies, through magazines. they think it happens outside of life, like it must be selected to be interacted with.

but you discovered in the fifth grade that you couldn't wear shirts with words on them, it was an excuse for someone to look at your chest. you were catcalled before you were in middle school. sometimes you look at that memory and deny it - surely that can't be right, you were young. but you were in a skirt, so maybe that was a natural byproduct. it was a skirt from that place "justice by limited too" - a store literally for kids. it was popular around then. you wore that skirt twice and then never again.

you can't wear headphones, because what if a man wants to talk to you? there's a guy on the internet who complains that women shut themselves off from being approached. at night, you often keep the headphones positioned but with the sound off, just in case you need to hear something behind you.

you learned at 12 that you can't make eye contact, don't acknowledge the aggression. just walk faster and hope he picks on somebody else. don't wear your hair like that. do not park next to that kind of car, park an entire cityblock away if you must.

you can't go to the museum, you're sitting and tying your shoe when he approaches you and mentions that nobody understands art anymore. that in the whole world, it's just you-two. you have no recourse for eating a meal (it's rabbit food if it's salad, and someone will roll their eyes, eat a sandwich. it's pick-me behavior if it's a burger, we get it you're a cool girl). if you like mushrooms you are cottagecore, which is cheesy. if you like video games you're an egirl (similar to a pick-me). boys do not get categories, but if you point out the categories are sexist, you are told okay but these girls really exist.

it is somehow developing, a little undercurrent that you've been uncomfortable with. the nickname "karen" went from being "a white woman that uses her whiteness as a weapon, particularly against people of color," to now mean "any woman raising her voice or being even a little upset." the reappropriation of a term used specifically to call out white women for their racism has set your skin on edge. now it is just another version of "bitch," one that can be said on television. recently you saw a woman get called a karen because a drunk driver sideswiped her, and she screamed when it happened. the comments on the dashcam video all say "why do women always scream about everything." "when has the world ever been bettered by women screaming." "this fucking karen. she deserved to get hit."

in the sitcom, it's a joke that the wife is furious; slamming her hands down into the sink. i do everything around here, might as well do this too. in your house, your father is always in-his-office. before you know better, your first boyfriend is the type to say it's just easier for you. you used to beg him to take you on dates. he used to make a big deal about it, about the sacrifice of effort, even if you were the one who did most of the planning.

someone on the internet makes a "POV: the most boring person you've ever met" where he puts a towel on his head and just talks like a normal person. his impression of a boring woman is just a woman that is talking about her pretty-average life without exaggeration.

you are sometimes actually sad in the reverse, because actually you did used to struggle to pay attention in conversations. you were also easily bored of normal things, your adhd pinging off of every radio tower in the vacinity. it took time and therapy and patience, and now you delight in the small things about your friends. you like having them show you their organizational systems and talk about their taylor swift tickets. you are entertained by them because you learned to be, even though your brain is structured to only be excited by novelty. you kind of hate the idea that the reason your father will never actually pay attention to you is that you're no longer interesting. eventually the shine wore off, and you were just a person, not a spaceship. he never learned how to just, like, form an actual intimate friendship. it was always at a distance, this sense - emotional closeness was too much. (and yes. he's homophobic).

you're already tired of whatever the fuck is happening with the words "divine feminine", a rancid take that is basically just a rebranding of the patriarchy in action. what the fuck do they mean "being small and delicate and needing protection" is feminine. the words they are looking for are that they want a partner, not that their desire for equivalent support is relegated to gender. the human desire for community is not actually gendered at all. also, what fucking wolves are these "divine masculine" men even battling. fuckken taxes? shouldn't their "desire to protect" also mean "protect you from emotional neglect", or are all emotions off-limits (and how sad would that be. that's a horrible bar to set.)

and they tell you it's really not bad actually, because it's just there. they suggest you get off the internet or you stop reading that book or you stop thinking so hard about the movie or you stop just-being-a-feminist because honestly it's a killjoy sort of thing and then you tilt your head to the side and there's that little siren in the back of your head. if things were actually fine, being a feminist wouldn't put a stop to anything, it would go completely unnoticed, because you wouldn't have any comment to make about any of this

but you are ruining your own life, they tell you. also, girls don't sit like that. also, all girls are catty. also, all girls are bad drivers. also, all girls just need a cute bracelet and an iced coffee.

you do like iced coffee, is the thing. when you close your eyes, the world around you has this strange note to it. and once you hear it, it never stops ringing.

[crazyinlovewithbucky]

"My Girl"

Pairing: (tfatws)Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sam took Bucky clubbing one day to ease Bucky's tension and bad temper then Bucky met you and since the moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew that he wanted you to be his girl.

Warnings: flufffffffff, smut, Sam & Bucky being sarcastic, alcohol, alcohol consumption, making out, nudity, dry humping, oral (f receiving), protected/unprotected sex, d in v sex, drunk friend, sergeant kink, Bucky being obsessive, lipstick stains and marks, cum eating, overstimulation, lots of fluff + smut.

This smut was somewhat inspired by the song Girl by The Internet (feat. KAYTRANADA)

AU/N: hey guys, I've been having the worst writer's block and I've been writing this piece for almost 3 months now. My job is taking all of my time and consuming my days that I barely have time to write so this is the reason why this piece might be a little longer (5.9K words) than my previous ones lol. Hope you enjoy it and I'd like to remind you that English isn't my first language so excuse if I misspelled or mispronounced anything.

======================

It was a somewhat normal Friday evening. Sam and Bucky just finished another successful mission in Europe, and they needed time to relax. Sam knew about that great club in New York and begged Bucky to come and blow off some steam. Eventually, Bucky agreed to drink, spend time with his best friend, and maybe see how people nowadays party. They entered the club and headed to the bar right away before the club owner himself came and greeted them and told them he had a private VIP table for them on the east side of the club. The two Avengers thanked him but wanted to have a few drinks at the bar first.

"Gosh, Steve would've hated this," Bucky shouted due to the loud music, feeling a little uncomfortable as he's not used to loud music, not used to people drinking and dancing around wildly like this, and also not used to crowded places like this. Sam laughed at his comment and gave him a glass of whiskey.

"Believe it or not, buddy. I brought Steve and Nat here a couple of times, and they didn't actually hate it. They were uncomfortable at first, yes. But after a few drinks, I kid you not, Steve almost went home with three blondies who promised to show him "how grateful they are for him saving the world" until Nat and I had to actually grab him by his shirt and drag him out of there." Sam chuckled while telling the story, and Bucky almost spat his drink out of his nose, laughing.

"Yeah Yeah. That does sound like Steve." Bucky kept chuckling as he swallowed the rest of his drink. He put the empty glass on the bar and asked the bartender for a refill. His eyes roamed the place, looking at the people on the dance floor, then his eyes landed on you.

You were dancing your heart out and wearing that new short, tight black dress that had no sleeves, feeling kind of tipsy from the three or four drinks you had. Your hair is all messed up from the heat of dancing, which made some of your baby hair stick to your forehead due to sweat. Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off of you; he didn't know why, but for him, you were so attractive, with that tight short dress hugging all of your curves perfectly, your hips and body swaying to the music, and your shiny, beautiful hair swaying and moving with your body too.

He kept staring at you, lost in your beauty until he felt a rough hand hitting his shoulder. "See something you like, Barnes?" Sam raised an eyebrow at him, following Bucky's intense gaze at you. "Go dance with her," Sam chuckled, pointing at you with his glass.

"No fucking way, Sam. I don't dance." Bucky took a deep breath and swallowed the refilled glass in just one sip. He put the glass again on the bar table and motioned for the bartender to refill it again. Somehow all that built-up and buried sexual energy in him started to resurface as he got reminded that the last time he had any sexual interaction with a woman was in the 1940s. He really needed to take it out of his system and ease that sexual tension inside of him. He knew that he had to do that one day or another. Hell, Sam even knew and noticed that too, as Bucky's anger issues and frustrations were getting out of hand and Sam had enough of this attitude. He thought that maybe with a few drinks and a nice night out, Bucky might be less tense. But when a pretty lady gets Bucky's attention and he starts to act all frustrated again, it all clicks for Sam now, as the reason behind Bucky's frustration is just built-up sexual energy. Poor Bucky hasn't gotten laid since the 40s; he must feel like a virgin now, Sam thought.

Bucky kept staring at you and the way your body moved to the music until he saw you moving toward him with one of your friends. You were headed towards the bar while laughing with your friend, and you moved and stood very close to him and shouted the names of some drinks for the bartender. He could smell you. You were sweaty as hell, but for him, you smelt so nice and sugary; your body and hair smelt like a mix of coconut and jasmine, and he loved it so much that his body stiffened and he stood straight, trying his hardest not to look at you and the way you kept scratching your scalp and flipping your hair from the heat you felt from dancing. You took out a scrunchie from your purse and tied your hair up in a messy ponytail, and he almost fell on his knees as he saw drops of sweat running down your neck. You were so hot and beautiful, he thought he'd lose his mind.

Sam was standing on the opposite side of Bucky and you, watching Bucky's reactions with a smirk. "Hey ladies, can we buy you some drinks?" Sam said this to you and your friend, startling you both out of your conversation. Your friend looked at him and Bucky and gasped loudly.

"Oh my god! You're the Avengers!" Your friend screamed, which made you get confused, and you looked carefully at Sam, then turned your head and found very hungry blue eyes looking back at you. Your mouth opened a little at the sight before you. You thought that this was literally the most beautiful and handsome man you'd ever seen in your whole life. You both kept holding that intense eye contact; you didn't realize you were so close to each other until your friend pushed your shoulder to grab your attention, and you almost fell on him. Bucky was quick, and he held you by your waist and helped you stand up straight, never breaking eye contact.

"Are you okay?" He said that as your heart kept beating so hard and loud, you were very nervous, as you had never had that much tension with anyone before—even your friend and Sam sensed it. You nodded your head at Bucky while smiling nervously, then tried to breathe normally as you felt like you were choking out of air. You also felt that strange sensation of tingling between your legs. You couldn't help it; as per lots of previous experiences, you were well aware that alcohol makes you horny. But alcohol plus the hottest man you've ever seen—that was too much for you, and you felt out of breath.

"Y-You don't need to buy us any drinks, we were actually getting those last drinks and leaving afterward," you said nervously to Sam as you held your friend's arm. You smiled with a nod at the bartender when she put the two drinks you ordered in front of you and your friend.

"What? Noooooo, Y/N, I wanna stay," your drunk friend whined. "You can do whatever you want to me, Mr. Falcon." Your friend flirted with Sam and touched his hand and squeezed it while winking at him, which made Sam blush and smirk at her.

"Oh, I think you had enough drinks already." You cringed at your friend, squeezed her shoulders, and pulled her away slowly to leave.

"At least, let us drive you home." Bucky's voice behind you said that, and your breath hitched. You were trying your hardest not to interact with this man because, you swear, you were so close to jumping on him and doing very unholy things to him.

"Y-You don't have to." Your voice was shaky, and you tried to keep your friend steady.

"But we want to. Please." He touched your arm softly, and you got goosebumps all over, feeling hotter, and that tingling feeling between your legs was more unbearable.

"Okay," that's all that you managed to say, as there's nothing on your mind now except for the various positions and ways he could fuck you with. Yes, you were that horny.

Sam got his wallet out and paid for his, Bucky's, and your drinks. You kept holding your friend, afraid she might trip and fall. Meanwhile, Bucky was walking beside you, guiding you to the main exit and shielding you from the crowd. He was very gentle and kind to you, and you just couldn't stop looking at his strong, veiny hands and imagining them wrapped around your neck.

By the time you got outside the club, Bucky had guided you and your almost knocked-out friend to the parking lot, where Sam was already waiting there next to the black SUV. Normally, you wouldn't ever consider going out or taking a ride with strange men you just met at the bar. This is a never-in-a-million-years action from you. But your cautious side left the room when you acknowledged that these are the actual Avengers and they couldn't ever hurt you. And if they did, you're going to make a hundred percent sure to sue their asses afterward. You smiled at yourself at that thought, and that caught Bucky's attention.

"What are you smiling at?" Bucky said to you as he smiled too. Your smile dropped immediately as he caught you off guard, and you felt so embarrassed. Of course, you're not going to tell him you were just thinking about suing him if he did something to you, and that made you smile. What the hell are you? A psycho?

"Ummm, nothing." You smiled awkwardly. "I am just a little drunk." And you awkwardly laughed. 'Gosh, can this get any weirder?' You thought to yourself. 

"Are you okay?" He said this in a concerned tone while opening the doors of the backseat in the car and guiding you and your friend in. You nodded at him with a smile, sat your friend carefully in the backseat, and seated yourself next to her. Bucky got in the passenger seat while Sam started driving and pulling out of the parking spot.

"So, do you ladies have a place, or are we going to drive all night?" Sam said this in a sarcastic tone while opening the Google Maps app on his phone. He gave the phone to Bucky to start typing your addresses in the search bar.

You laughed at Sam's question. "Yeah, but Y/F/N lives closer, so can we drop her off first, Mr. Falcon? Shit. Sorry. I mean Sam." You cringed at yourself for calling Sam Mr. Falcon like your friend did. You don't know if it's because you feel awkward, or the tension between you and Bucky, or the four drinks you had earlier.

Sam and Bucky laughed softly at Sam's new nickname, and that made you feel more awkward, and that made you laugh nervously. Bucky noticed that and said, "That's okay. I call him sometimes "Daddy Falcon," just like those girls on Twitter, just to tease him." 

"Hey man, what the hell? You promised you would not say that again. Why are you telling her, you freaky cyborg?" You laughed so hard at the way they speak to each other and their weird nicknames for each other.

"Wait, What? Cyborg? Is that your actual nickname?" You laughed at Bucky while your friend was napping silently with her head on your lap.

"No, actually Bucky is my nickname," he overstressed the word 'Bucky' while looking at Sam, giving him a death glare, which made you giggle more. "But Sam just loves giving me a hard time."

"What? Man, who's giving who a hard time with that "Daddy Falcon" bullshit? I ain't nobody's daddy." Sam said while focusing on the road. You can't stop giggling at this point.

"Whatever, Sam. I'm sorry, okay? Truce?" Bucky said to Sam, smiling and looking at you from time to time through the rearview mirror.

"Fine," Sam said while still looking at the road ahead and rolling his eyes at Bucky.

"Shit, can I put the location on the map? because I think we're close to her apartment." You snapped out of your laughter and motioned with your hand for Bucky to give you the phone and type in the location. Bucky handed you the phone, and you started typing in your friend's apartment location, which was only five minutes away from your current location. You handed the phone back to Bucky, and he started directing Sam to the location. *

You made sure your friend was comfortable and sleeping well in her bed after you took her shoes off, tucked her under the blanket, turned off the light, and left. Buck and Sam were waiting for you downstairs outside the car. You walked toward them and smiled, saying, "I'm so sorry guys, we've been such a huge burden on you tonight. I really appreciate your help and kindness. Thank you."

They both smiled at you, saying stuff like "Don't mention it", "It's okay," and "We're happy to help." The three of you went into the car again, and Sam started driving to your house. The distance from your friend's apartment to yours was around fifteen minutes, so you started chatting with them and getting to know them better. You learned that they were staying here at the Avengers Tower and that Sam is not from around here usually, but Bucky is from Brooklyn. He kept telling you about his life back then, in the forties, and how he was adjusting to this new world. You and Sam joked a bit about Bucky's age, but he didn't mind it. He actually laughed at some of your jokes.

You were startled by the voice of the GPS lady saying, "You've arrived at your destination," and you felt upset for leaving them too soon. You exchanged numbers with Bucky and Sam and promised them to hang out with them soon and have brunch.

Out of politeness, you invited them over to your apartment for some coffee, and Sam agreed right away, while Bucky was just thinking about it. You were kind of surprised by his immediate agreement, which made you question if they had other intentions towards you. But you brushed these thoughts away when you saw that kind, loving, and gentle look in Bucky's eyes when he looked at you.

As soon as you got out of the car and were guiding them to your building's entrance door, Sam stopped in his tracks and exclaimed loudly, "Oh shit man, I forgot." You and Bucky stopped and looked at him, worried.

"I promised Sarah I'd call her tonight, and I completely forgot. Man, I hate when this happens. She must be worried, thinking something happened to me or else. I've got to go. Sorry, Y/N. It was very nice to meet you. We'll catch up soon, okay?" He gave you a small hug and pulled away. “Sorry, Buck, I've got to head home. You have Uber on your phone, right? Remember, I taught you how to use it." He smirked and winked at Bucky, who was, by the way, giving him the most deadly glare ever as he connected the dots and figured out Sam's plan to leave you and him alone. "You finish that cup of coffee first. I think you need to sober up a little." He gave Bucky a small hug too and whispered something in his ear that you couldn't hear, even though you tried eavesdropping. "Again, Y/N, very nice to meet you. See you later. Bye." He sprinted to his car, went in, and started to drive off.

"Okay, so I think it's just the two of us then." You smiled at Bucky and turned your head away from him to open the building's door with your keys. You guided him inside and went to your apartment, which was on the third floor. You opened the door to your apartment, invited him in, and apologized for the mess, which was not so messy, but you just felt awkward. Especially in the presence of him and the fact that both of you were finally alone in the privacy of your own house, which made the very unholy thoughts about him grow wilder.

You both took off your jackets and sat on the couch. You excused yourself to go make the coffee, but as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, you forgot that you ran out of coffee this morning and that you were supposed to go buy some the next morning. You cursed at yourself and felt so embarrassed. You went back into the living room and found him texting on his phone. Little did you know that he was texting Sam "very uncool" for what Sam did and for that lame excuse to leave you both alone.

When he noticed you were in the living room with empty hands and pouting lips, he asked if everything was okay. "I forgot I ran out of coffee this morning; I'm sorry." You pouted your lips and dropped your shoulders. He smiled at how cute you looked right now. "I have tea if you like." You smiled at him, and his gaze turned so softly toward you.

"Tea would be great. Thanks." He said it, smiling. You hopped on your feet, turned, and went to the kitchen, making tea for you and him. After six or seven minutes, you returned with two hot mugs of tea. You handed him his mug and sat next to him on the couch.

You started chatting and talking about everything and anything. Despite all the talking and chatting, without your awareness, you both started to get closer to each other. It was like your bodies were magnets for each other. The tension thickens, and both of you can't help but stare at each other's lips while talking, drinking tea, or doing anything else. You noticed that he licks his lips before saying anything, and he noticed how you bite your lips when you're concentrating on what he's saying or when you're staring at his lips.

After an hour or so of talking, you noticed that you were so close to him now that you could feel his hot breath on your face and how he was controlling all your senses now, with his hands touching your leg, his musky and minty scent surrounding you, and his blue eyes gazing softly at you. You were snapped back to reality when you became aware that you both hadn't said anything for the past ten minutes, and you even forgot who stopped talking first or who said the last word. You were just staring and looking at each other with very hungry eyes for one another.

"Can I kiss you?" He whispered while looking at your lips with his lustful blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat at what he said as you became too excited and became more aware of the wetness growing between your legs.

You nodded as you tried your hardest to hide your grin. "Words, Honey. I need to hear you." He said this while looking at your eyes, then moving his gaze to your lips again as he moved his hand up and held your chin up while moving his thumb on your lip, pulling the bottom lip down and freeing it from between your teeth. You didn't notice; you were biting your lips the whole time.

"Yes, please." You whispered, but it came out more as a whine. He smashed his lips against yours. Kissing you passionately and hungrily. He poked and licked your lips with his tongue, asking for permission, which you happily granted him, and you opened your mouth to him so he could devour you more with his kisses and tongue.

You were so lost in the moment and in him, and you kept tugging and pulling his shirt, asking and wanting more. He pushed you down on the couch with his body and laid on top of you, making out with you fiercely. Needing you more than you need him. You started lazily pulling his shirt up while bending and lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist. You felt his erection poking and rubbing your inner thighs, which made you moan into his mouth.

He pulled away and started taking his shirt off while you were lifting your short dress up to your hips and waist, exposing your black lace underpants. Suddenly, you felt like you were rushing into things, and the situation between you two escalated too quickly. You don't want him to have the wrong idea of you, just as you don't want this to be a one-night stand. You want more. You want him to be yours.

"I-I just want to say that I don't do this at all." You said this while panting from the heat of it all and from that passionate make-out you just had.

"Do what?" He frowned and was confused. He thought you were backing out, and he was just embarrassing himself by taking his shirt off, thinking there could be more to this.

"I don't take guys I meet in the club home and sleep with them; I don't do one-night stands." You helped yourself sit up with your elbows while he was sitting and straddling you.

"I don't do one-night stands either." He smiled at you and cupped your cheeks as he kept moving his thumb on your lips. "I just can't help myself around you and can't help how my body reacts to you. I never had this feeling or attraction to anyone before." He pushed you down and started kissing your exposed neck. "Fuck, you're so beautiful. I've never seen such a beauty like yours before." He looked into your eyes while grinding his hardened length into your clothed core. You moaned slightly, which was an opportunity for him to bury his tongue in your mouth again. 

"Can you be mine for tonight?" He groaned against your mouth while still grinding into you. "Can you be my girl for tonight?" He started leaving wet and sloppy kisses on your neck and collarbone, moving down to your chest.

"Yes, please, Bucky. I'm your girl." You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist again while your hands kept rubbing and playing with his hair.

You noticed the scars on his left shoulder near his metal arm, and you suddenly remembered who he really is and his dark past. You wanted to reassure him, so you started kissing the scars on his shoulder and paying more attention to them. "You are perfect, Bucky. So perfect, I could just eat you." You said this to him while grinning and tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth. You could clearly see his gaze soften and his cheeks turn bright red as he chuckled shyly.

"Look who's talking." He smiled and started kissing you passionately again. "Can we take this to the bedroom, plum?" He kissed your cheek and kept moving down, kissing your neck and collarbone.

"I was about to tell you that. The condoms are in the bedroom, anyway." You said that out of breath. You felt his arms wrapping around you and hugging you tight to his chest as he pulled you up in his arms and held you tight as he stood up, and you directed him to your bedroom while filling his neck with kisses and noticed the red marks of your ruined lipstick on him. You took a look at his face and found his mouth all smeared with red lipstick. You smiled at that sight. "This shade looks very flattering on you, Sergeant Barnes." You giggled and swiped your thumb on his lips while cupping his cheek in your palm as he was smiling like an idiot at you.

He turned on the light in your bedroom and threw you gently on the bed. He threw himself on you after taking off his dark pants, while you removed your ruined dress and threw it on the floor, leaving the two of you bare-chested. You kept making out more with him while he kept grinding his length on your clothed cunt and moaning in each other's mouths. "Can I?" he panted as he hooked his fingers on the elastic band of your underpants, asking for permission to take them off.

"Yes, please." You breathed out and lifted your hips off the bed, making it easier for him to take them off. He removed it gently and threw it across the room. He placed both of his hands on your knees and opened your legs widely. He gasped a little at the picture in front of him—your soaking wet cunt bared to him as you're fully naked underneath him with your perfect-rounded breasts moving up and down because of your panting and your perked nipples being so tempting for him to just suckle on them all night long. His mouth was open, and his eyes were full of nothing but hunger and lust as if he were eating your body with his gaze.

"Fuck, you're perfect." His hands slipped so nicely and easily from your calf up to your hips, and he started circling your sensitive bud with his thumb. "I want you to be my fucking girl forever." He started kissing your body all over. From your hips to your arms to your belly button to your breast, he kept sucking on your nipples for a little bit. All of that while his metal hand never left your cunt, as he kept rubbing it and toying with your sensitive clit with his fingers. "If you let me in, doll, I don't think I'd ever be able to leave." He looked into your eyes while saying that.

Seeing the look on his face and the way his eyes were lost in yours, you got the feeling that it wasn't just some dirty talk and that he actually meant it. "Then don't leave, sergeant. Make me yours." You pulled him in for a long, deep kiss that left you both out of breath. You gasped loudly as you felt his finger enter your hole suddenly and stretch your it.

He pushed another finger in and kept pumping them slowly inside of you, curving and scissoring them and stretching you.

You can't control your need for him and his throbbing cock inside of you, as you can already feel it nudging your inner thigh and feel the wetness caused by the precum. "Sergeant, please, I need you. Stop teasing." You whined and pushed your hips up a little, signaling to him how desperate and needy you are for him.

He chuckled and asked you about the location of the condoms, and you motioned to him their location in the drawer of your bedside table. He lifted his body from on top of you, took off his boxers, and went to the condom drawer. He took some, threw them on the bed next to you, took one in his teeth, unwrapped it, and put it on his cock.

You looked at the four or five extra condoms next to you and looked at him, confused, with an evil grin on your face. "Don't worry, plum. You're my girl now, remember? And tonight, I get to fuck my girl as much as I want. And I really want to keep you impaled on my cock all night long. Is that okay with you, doll?" He was massaging your inner thighs and mirroring your evil grin.

"Yes, sergeant. I'm all yours to fuck." You teased back and opened your legs more, giving him more access. He smirked at you and lined up the head of his cock with your entrance. He started to push in slowly while you wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him closer, which made him push half of his cock into you. You cried out at the burn and stretch of his cock, which you thought was carved by the gods because of how magnificent and big it is. 

He pushed his cock into you until he bottomed out. You felt so full that if he switched the angle, he'd be able to touch your cervix with the head of his cock. He was that deep in your cunt. "You're so tight, doll. So perfect for me. Fuck, I won't last long." He groaned as he started moving and thrusting slowly. You just can't control your moans or cries at that moment, and you don't care. His name was falling out of your mouth like a prayer as he picked up the pace and started to thrust faster and deeper.

He lifted your legs up and placed them on his shoulders. This new position made him go even deeper, and as you thought, his cock is hitting your cervix and that deep spot in you that makes you scream like a woman possessed. He hugged your legs with his left arm, and the other one was pressed against your lower stomach while his thumb was moving in circles on your swollen clit. You were so close, and your throat started to itch and soar from your uncontrollable screams and cries. You've never been fucked that good, you thought to yourself. He was hitting all the right spots, moving at the perfect pace, and just being irresistible enough to make you fall in love with him. He stole your breath away from that first glance at the bar, but now? Now he was fucking you like he knew you, your spots, and what you wanted and liked. It's like you were made for each other.

Your orgasm crashed into you suddenly, and by then you were just a whimpering mess. Bucky didn't stop and kept fucking you through your orgasm, making it last longer and focusing on pleasuring you more. You were clenching around his cock like crazy, and he kept moaning and whimpering like a teenage boy losing his virginity for the first time. He snapped and emptied his load inside of you as his thrusts got sloppier. "Fuck, doll, I think the condom broke." He noticed that when he looked at where your bodies were connected and saw that big cut on the head of the condom. He chuckled softly and looked at you.

You pulled your legs down from their positions on his shoulder and lifted yourself up on your elbows to see how it broke. "What the hell? How did that happen?" You were panting, then you looked at him and chuckled at that dumb accident.

"I don't know. Maybe because of how hard and fast I was going and with your cunt choking my cock like a vase, I'd say I'm surprised it snapped like this instead of being taken off by the pressure." He giggled, moved his head down, and kissed you. "But don't worry doll. I got you." He pulled himself out of you and moved down your body until he was face-to-face with your swollen cunt. "I'll make sure you get all cleaned up." He said this before lapping and licking your mixed white liquid. Which didn't help your oversensitivity and made you get overstimulated quickly.

"God, Bucky, I'm going to cum again." You cried out, pulled on his hair, and pushed your hips up a bit, almost riding his face. He hummed and groaned while sucking your clit and shaking his head. That made you fall off the edge quicker and you came and gushed all over his face.

He didn't stop until he cleaned you up of everything, and you kept twitching and shaking from the overstimulation, but it felt too good to tell him to stop. After he fulfilled his promise and got you all cleaned up with his tongue, he pulled away and threw himself on the bed next to you after taking you in his arms first and hugging you closely. You lifted your leg over his and hugged him back. You both kept cuddling for a while in your bed, trying to catch your breath while looking at each other and smiling like stupid kids.

"Thank you." He said it softly and kissed your forehead. while stroking your arm gently.

"For what?" You smiled in confusion and looked deeply into his hazy blue eyes.

"I'll tell you later, but now my girl needs to rest for a while because I'm not done with her yet." He tickled you, and you both were laughing and enjoying each other's presence so much that you didn't want to leave each other for one second, and your hands couldn't get off one another.

Of course, the rest of the night you spent it talking and learning more about each other, and to take a break from all the talking and trauma dumping, you kept fucking like rabbits. You don't know how or when it happened, but you fell deeply in love with him and wanted him to actually be yours. 

The next day, you woke up and found him making breakfast in your kitchen. You were so happy to find him discovering things in your kitchen and making food, and you wished silently to wake up every morning to this sight. Later, while you both were eating breakfast, he asked you out on a date and told you how much he liked you, enjoyed your company, and wanted to be your boyfriend. You agreed immediately and kept making out with him for the rest of the day until he had to leave because of an emergency meeting that occurred in the tower. You found it so hard to let him go and kept clinging to him, even when he was getting dressed, but he promised he'd come right back to you once he finished the meeting. You eventually agreed to let him go, and he told you he'd take you out for dinner tonight as your first official date. You gave him one last passionate kiss, and he left.

Later on, and after hundreds of dates and dating for almost a year now, he finally told you what he meant by thanking you after you both hooked up for the first time ever. He explained to you how this was his first time having sex since the forties, how he had that built-up sexual tension and frustration that almost made him lose his mind, and he started to feel insecure because of that, and how it all changed when he slept with you for the first time, and how you made it so easy for him and let him get back to his old self and feel like the old Bucky again, whom he thought was dead since that moment he fell off that train in Europe. Your relationship with Bucky was the best thing that ever happened to the two of you. You both changed each other, helped each other grow, and found out what being in love is actually like. He literally said "I love you" after the third week of being together and during a very hot love-making session, which was the best sex you've ever had in your life. Bucky was the best lover you could've asked for, and you were so grateful for him and for that night out with your friend in that Manhattan club that you were reluctant to go to in the first place. It was fate that brought you together.

[letruyuread]

Little thoughts about about Twisted Wonderland characters and you (yuu)

Riddle loves having the first slice of tarts, strawberry ones especially. So I think that, for holidays or even if you're just feeling down, he gives you the first slice of his strawberry tart. No explanation, please don't mention it- you'll fluster the poor boy. But it means a lot to him, and he secretly hopes you understand that.

Yes, Ace is a teasing prick, most of the time, anyways. But the second anyone brings up how he might possibly feel for you? Absolute tsundere. Denying it to the high heavens. Insults you a lot, too. "How could I ever like the perfect?! They're so- so-" Yeah, no one's falling for it. Give him time. He'll get comfortable with the idea soon enough, and then you have a whole other problem.

Deuce loves to talk to his mom about you. Rants about you- the incredible magic-less human that stole his heart (No, get out of here Ace-). You don't even care that he used to be a delinquent! How amazing is that? His mom is overjoyed that her son met someone who sounds so nice and keeps trying to give him advice to ask you out. She also tries to convince him to bring you home during break- you're not even dating yet.

Cater, of course, posts about you on his Magicam. It's the usual- oh, they're so pretty today, look my partner gave me food 😍. But there are also things he doesn't post, surprisingly. He doesn't post the picture he took of you, laughing against the sunset. That one's private. Too perfectly you to be seen by everyone. No, that's just a moment for the two of you, he thinks.

Trey loves baking you things, baking with you, but he always finds himself flustered when you bake something for him. He taught you the recipe, he remembers, a few weeks ago, and here you are standing with a small platter of cookies. Some are burnt, some taste a bit salty (you didn't add the oyster sauce... right?) and yet he eats them all and loves them because you made them. For him.

Leona, I think, takes very good care of his hair. It was worse before he came to Night Raven, his attendants tried to take care of it, but he always managed to hide away (he was taking a nap). On the first day, though, Vil couldn't stand such a pretty face with such horrid care and taught Leona a routine. Leona now follows that routine strictly. He takes pride in it, as much as his smarts and strength. You know he's having a bad day when it's unkempt and tangled. You also know how much he trusts you when he teaches you the routine, when he lets you help him with it on those bad days or weeks or maybe months.

Ruggie gives you things. It's always random- a bit of his food, a dandelion in the field, a ribbon floating in the wind. He grew up with little- so naturally, he hoards everything he can get his hands on and keeps it for himself. One day he might need it, or his grandma, or the kids in his neighborhood. He's very protective of his growing stash. So when he gives you these things, it's him telling you that you're part of his family now. Ask for anything, he'll find it. Just like he would for the people back home.

Jack adopts a lot of cacti (I nearly spelled cactuses) with you- very silly, right? A lot of cacti. He waters them appropriately, a strict schedule for each, and keeps them at Ramshackle dorm. You have a whole room for them, very bright from large windows and only tables for the plants to be placed on. It's common in his family that you only have one person, your whole life, to stick by. He's hoping it's you- he's hoping you'll fall for him if he keeps coming around, day by day, taking care of your plant children (plant army).

(oh God there's so many but Im on a roll)

Azul, Azul... Oh boy. He really wants you to make a contact with him. Doesn't matter what kind- you want it, you'll get it (even if you don't agree to his offer, honestly). He always seems to want the same thing, though: (no it's not marriage) a friend. That's what he says, that's not really what's in the contract, though. The exact wording is 'companion.' Someone to talk to, someone to trust. Someone who calls his merform pretty and him intelligent. Someone who doesn't make him feel insecure.

Floyd. What do to with you? He's very touchy. Very touchy. Once, he skipped all his classes and just grabbed onto you, having you carry him around on your back and not letting you go. Yes, he put a spell on himself to make him light as a feather, no one could carry that tall of an eel. He's very clingy and doesn't understand how he feels about you. It confuses him, he has no clue what this is, he just knows he wants to be around you and why shouldn't he be?

Jade knows. You have weekly tea parties. Don't worry, everything's free of charge... Except that, you have to pay for that. Oh, you didn't bring any money? Well, a kiss would do, but... Oh, no, that was a joke. Please don't look so worried. Jade may know what he feels for you, but he's still working out how to deal with it. The twins kind of never thought this would happen.

Kalim is such a sweetheart! Give him all the love in the world, he'll reciprocate tenfold! Whatever you want. He can buy it, if not, his family has the connections to get it, surely. But don't be mistaken- he'll adore you if you make something for him. If he can, he'll always have it on him. Plus, he tries to make stuff for you too! It might look bad, or taste weird, but he's beaming at you and the thought is there!

Please give Jamil a day off. No, really- drag him as far away from Kalim and any responsibility as possible. Do everything. Cook for him, cuddle him, tell him he's amazing and smart and very very cool and it is HIS DAY OFF. Take care of him, please? He needs this. He needs you. He'll do the same for you, if you ever overwork yourself or have a bad day. Trust him, and ask him to trust you.

(I haven't gotten beyond book 4, so I don't know enough about the other characters to feel confident writing them. Maybe Idia, Malleus or Lilia, as I really like them and have done some research on them, but for now this is what I got. Enjoy?)

[luveline]

extremely random thought for shy friday: r works up the courage and bakes steve some kind of baked good. little do they know it’s with the one ingredient steve absolutely HATES (idk man like grapes or something) and he feels bad so he doesn’t tell them and eats it until dustin or someone walks in and is like 🤨🤨🤨 ur eating that???

thank you for your request! steve x shy!reader

Steve knows that while you may not seem nervous on the surface, you're a shy girl. You're always overthinking things, always watching people out of the corner of your eye so you can respond to their behaviour. You minimise yourself.

It's why he can't tell you he doesn't like raisins. You've made him something, expressed your creativity, your passion, and your feelings (he thinks) through baked goods. Steve's sure your German apple strudel would be delicious if he could stand raisins. He does a great approximation of a smile as he eats one.

"You like it?" you ask hopefully.

"Who doesn't?" he asks, clumsily avoiding the question. "Everybody likes strudel. Thanks, Germany."

Your smile cleaves him open. It's a mixture of incredible sweetness in line with your proferred treats, a hint of bashfulness he adores, and your usual go-to grin. It's familiar and new at once, and Steve wants to take a photo.

"I promised some to your friend," you say, closing the lid of the tuppperware you'd brought with you, "but what he doesn't take you can have. I kind of made them for you, anyways."

Steve melts. He's cool and sophisticated, obviously, but his stomach goes molten at the idea that someone would care about him enough to make him food from scratch without his having to ask, and that someone being you makes it all the more warming. He feels like jelly.

He's slow on the upkeep, and doesn't know who you mean until Dustin and co. are peddling up to the bench you're sitting at full pelt. Steve curses under his breath as they come to a slow, and Dustin's eyes hone in on your box.

"You have the goods?" he asks, like this is some box office drug deal, and not like he's interrupting your almost-date.

You shake your box gently. Lucas and Will share an enthusiastic, "Nice!"

Mike, less prone to distractions that aren't his girlfriend, nods at Steve's hand. He's frowning. "What are you doing?"

Four sets of eyes move between Mike's stare and Steve's hand like spectators at a tennis match. Steve can't tell him to cut it out while you're looking, so he polishes off the apple strudel, feels sick at the wrinkly, gelatinous texture of the raisins as they go down, and glares at the kids full force. "What, you're so greedy you need them all?"

"You don't like raisins," Mike says.

Dustin blinks at him. "You actually ate one of those?" He shifts on his bike, foot on the ground so he doesn't fall. "You said raisins are the evil cousin of a chocolate chip."

Steve doesn't know what's worse, the embarrassment of being caught red-handed or your tiny pout.

"Sorry," he says to you quickly, uncool, so uncool, "I mean. No, I don't like raisins. But they were still good!"

You're expressionless despite his insistence. "It's okay," you say, and there, a twitch to your brow he actually understands for once. You're amused.

You dole sweet treats out to the boys and they bike off calling thank yous and giggling like idiots at the mess they've made, no doubt. You smile down into your almost empty box, one remaining strudel with nowhere to go.

"Steve," you murmur, sounding pleased, "why didn't you say something?"

He hooks his elbow over the back of the bench. "And tell you to your face I don't like what you made for me? I know I fell off the wagon, but I'm not hopeless. You don't do that to girls."

"Well. Next time, you should. Is there anything else you don't, uh, don't like?" Steve can't hide his surprise. You drop your gaze to your lap. "You know, so I can make you something else?"

"You want to?"

You rub your thumb against the opposite index finger. You can't meet his eyes, but Steve knows you're alright.

"Yeah, I'd love to make you something you'll actually enjoy. Was kinda the whole point."

Steve places his hands between yours where they worry in your lap, dipping his head to the side hoping it'll encourage you to look up. You do, and he can practically see the heat emanating from your face, even if there's no evidence of blush.

"Anything you make I'll like."

"So long as it doesn't have raisins," you say.

He squeezes your hand gently. "Exactly. And maybe not too much cinnamon. It makes me think about my great grandma's house. Which wouldn't matter, but she totally died choking on a snickerdoodle."

You laugh, and you clamp your free hand over your mouth.

"That's terrible," you say between your fingers.

He elbows you gently. "You laughed. Makes you the terrible one." He thinks about your offer, and how sweet you are, and how horribly he fucked it up by pretending to like something he didn't. "Thank you. For the thought."

You take your hand from your cheek and place it over his. It's practically aflame it's so hot, and your lips are worse when you dot forward to kiss him. You were likely aiming for his cheek, but he turned a little and it ended up a centimetre from his closed mouth.

You sit back sharply.

"You're welcome," you say, eyes widened.

"Thanks," he says again. He clears his throat.

He pretends not to notice how flustered you are from your almost kiss. Maybe he should poke a little fun at you, call you forward or eager or in a rush, but he doesn't.

He'd be a hypocrite to make fun of you, because Steve's flustered too. Your lips are the sweetest treat you could give.

[soiwj]

Tasty Treat

Arlecchino x fem!baker!reader

Link to part 2

Very ooc arlecchino

(i dont know her character wel but she's hot, so i thought I'd give it a shot)

Planning on doing research on her though!!

Fuckk i love women omg

Second mini-fic ever how exciting!!

Please request stuff here!! It's hard to come up with prompts ;-;

I wrote this at 3 am so excuse the lack of structure

You start your usual routine of setting everything up for the day, although today is a bit special. Your bakery doesn't have many customers, considering the place it's in is quite remote. A peaceful forrest that's still in fontaine borders yet far away from any other buildings or people.

You chose this place because you appreciate the beauty and peace that nature brings you. The birds whisteling in the morning, the foxes chittering, the sound of tree leaves rustling. Yet that peace comes with quite a heft price. Loneliness. Besides the old lady that lives in a small village near the forrest, you don't get much human interaction. Even though your bakery is quite big and fits lots of people, you don't really have a lot of customers to share it with.

A week ago, you received a business offer from the house of the hearth. Since the bakery near the orphanage closed down, they don't have any establishments providing them things like breakfast treats and pastries. That's why they're employing you. The contract has you preparing and delivering the food to the hearth.

Even though this seemed like quite a lot of work, you accepted. I mean, how could you not? You get to make pasteries for adorable kids, making them smile, AND you get paid? This is a dream come true. After years of sulking alone in the damp forest serving a customer here and there, you get the privilege of a constant source of profit.

After hours of baking, your tired eyes look at the required amount of food stated in the order, and you realize that this is only enough for the kids. How strange that the boss herself did not order anything. Does she eat breakfast somewhere else? Nevertheless, you decide to make something anyway.

After packing up the orders, you start walking towards the orphanage, barely holding on to the several boxes stacked on top of eachother.

As you arrive, you set the boxes down and ring the orphanage's doorbell. An earie ring echoes from inside.

A tall woman opens the door. Her snow white hair with the occasional black streak looks down at you from the doorframe. Her brows furrow slightly at the sight of you, and the boxes.

"Are you alone?" She asks, you're confused, to say the least. "...yes?" You mutter. "How come you've managed to carry all those boxes on your lonesome?" Her sultry voice sounds out as she crosses her arms in amusement, holding back a grin. Before you can answer, you hear who you assume are the kids, walking slowly towards the persumed dining room.

"I'll help you with these," Arlecchino says curtly as she picks up a few boxes to bring to the kitchen. You pick up the last remaining boxes as you tail behind her.

As you and Arlecchino start unpacking and putting the treats on plates, you can't help but think of how different you expected Arlecchino to be. Clearly, her reputation precedes her. All the while your mind is drifting off to several different subjects, you don't notice the red-crossed eyes staring your way.

After the children finish eating, you stay a while, wanting to hear their opinion on the treats. As you basically survey them, you take the time to get to know some of them. Playing games with them and answering their unending questions.

As you realise you've overstayed your welcome, you say goodbye to the kids and quickly leave the orphanage. On your way back, you reach your hand into your purse, trying to take out your cherry flavored gum. You eventually find it but with it a little pink box brushes your hand. The cookie, you forgot to give it to Arlecchino.

Sat in her office, Arlecchino can't stop thinking about the kind-hearted baker she employed. Just looking at her interacting with the kids made something burn up inside of her. A little warmth that warms her cold, unfeeling heart. She looks out the window, hoping to have some reprieve from this strange feeling. Yet it seems the archons are against her wishes as she sees a certain baker running towards the orphanage. Almost tripping on her way. Even though it is foolish to entertain feelings for such a seemingly simple creature, Arlecchino can't help but grin at another interaction with her. Usually, she doesn't like to play with her food. But this time, she might make you an exception.

You stumble into the building as one of the kids, whom you now know is called Tealus, opens the door for you. With the pink box in hand, you stride through the halls looking for Arlecchino's office. As you ask one of the children, they point to the dark, long hallway without windows. How fitting. Your heels clicking softly as you walk over to her black office double doors. This place seems more like a villain's lair than an orphanage to you now, but you digress.

You knock 5 times in a specific pattern you were used to as a child when you hear a stern "Come in." You pull the golden doorhandle as the office window light starts flooding the hallway. You quickly close the door behind you as you step closer to her desk.

She does not look up from the paperwork on her desk as she multitasks without problem. "Why are you still here, baker." Just because she approves of your bond with the kids does not mean she will treat you differently from other people. "I saw there was nothing for you on the order list, so I made you something." You say proudly. You start rambling as you explain how you forgot to give it to her during breakfast.

She interrupts you as she reaches out her hand. "Can I see it?" You're flustered as you quickly hand her the box. She places it down gently on her desk as she lifts the packaging. Facing Arlecchino is a cookie with a white base, decorated with a black and red spider on top. "How adorable," Arlecchino mutters softly. Your soft 'huh' drives her back to reality as she responds. "I'm not very fond of sweet treats. I prefer savory things." She almost chuckles at the sight of your worried eyes locking with hers. "I can make you something else if you'd like? Hmm, although I can't think of many savory pasteries..." As you start naming some options, you reach for the cookie, trying to throw it away, but Arlecchino's quick reflexes hold your wrist before you can get close. "I thought you didn't like it?" Your confusion radiating off of you. "I never said such a thing. I merely said I prefer savory treats." She softly lets your wrist go as she stores the cookie on a desk extension behind her.

From then on, this has become routine, although some things have changed throughout the weeks. Instead of delivering the food alone, Arlecchino stops by early in the morning to help you carry them. Sometimes, it results in small talk when you haven't finished packing the orders yet.

Usually, she doesn't speak much and lets you do all the talking. You fear she's getting annoyed from your constant ramblings, but unbeknownst to you, she loves it when you talk about your interests and things you love.

This was a bit short, but if you wanna see a specific trope with this situation, you can req anything you wantt!!

Might do a part 2 of this idk yet

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Something impulsive | joel miller x f!reader x marcus pike, 7.1k

Summary: The distance between you and Joel grows. You decide to give Marcus a chance. A chance encounter shifts the balance between you and the two men.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, image just for aesthetic purposes, reader does not have a description, angst, slow-burn, insecurities, first date nervousness, flirting, sexual thoughts, kissing, Joel still being a prick, Joel still being an idiot (bear with him) dog piss (bear with me, too), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: And here I was, thinking that this time I'll keep it short. Who am I kidding. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!

P.S.: Credits for the final scene go to @jessthebaker and this hilarious comment that I just had to include in the chapter:

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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Radio silence.

That is what you would call it.

After your last encounter, you haven't seen or heard from Joel for two long weeks. No text, no phone call, nothing. Were you entering the winter phase again? Most likely.

You regretted the way you had challenged him that night. It wasn't really your style, but that's what happens when you bottle things up. Especially things like desire and longing. Eventually, they erupt like a fucking volcano after a long hibernation. Brutally. And yet you haven't got an ounce or a reaction. Something. Anything at all.

You were terrified that your friendship had been broken. You could have texted him. You should have. You felt it was all your fault anyway. You should have apologized. But you were angry. And selfish. And deep down you blamed him for your reaction, for making you feel helpless, a pawn in his hands.

But was that the case? And can you really blame anyone for your own actions? You were responsible for the way you reacted. You could have done things differently. You knew that. But you did not want to admit that to him.

Whether you were angry or not, you missed him all the same. You missed his presence, his voice, his scent. You missed the sound of his name on your tongue. The warmth of his irises and the softness in his eyes when he looked at you. And boy, did he look at you.

He may not have been a man of many words, but sometimes, just sometimes, his gaze spoke louder than any voice in the room. That's how you got into this mess in the first place.

One evening, on your day off, you hang out with Trish at your place. You needed the company, being alone with your thoughts for too long wasn't a good idea. The two of you sit on the sofa, drinking beer and eating pizza straight out of the box. You had already put your girls to bed and this was your happy hour.

"Are you dating Marcus you little weasel?"

"Where did that come from?", your eyes widen in surprise.

"Joel asked me the other day.", Trish reveals, laughing under her breath.

"WHAT?" you squeal in disbelief. Joel was not the type to ask about other people's private matters. Especially yours and especially to his cousin. "OK, please, elaborate."

"He asked me if you’re seeing him.", she continues.

"When did this happen?", you try to draw an imaginary map in your mind, gathering all the information available to you to understand what might be going through his mind.

"A few days ago, maybe?" she says nonchalantly.

"He asked that explicitly? Those were the exact words he used?", you insist like a hound dog looking for clues.

"Of course not." Trish rolls her eyes, "He danced around it for a while, but I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about -which I obviously don't- and then I made him ask directly."

"Oh god, give the poor man a break!", you exclaim, you could only imagine what a menace could she be when she wanted to.

"Well, are you?"

"No, I’m not. But if he asks again tell him I am."

"Why?", she frowns but looks amused at the same time. Oh, she's up to something.

"So he will leave me alone." Well he already kind of did, but maybe it was for the best to cut the ties once and for all.

"What do you mean? Is he bothering you?" Trish insists, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"No- he's- it's not- uh-" where would you even start, it's all a fucking mess, anyway. "Forget I said anything-" you try to end the conversation, but-

"I might have kind of implied that, though?" Trish wrinkles her nose, trying to minimize the damage.

"WHAT?"

"Only because he looked desperate" she rushes to explain, "and honestly you two should really fuck each other. So I thought maybe I could spice things up a bit."

A minute or two passes before you answer her. All this information bombarding your mind left a paralyzing feeling in your mouth. He looked desperate? Why the fuck? Was this the classic 'I want what I can't have'? He wasn't that type. And he could have his way with you if he wanted to. Couldn't he? Did he get the feeling that you weren't interested? What more could you have done, he was the one who went cold and hot all the time. "It's not like that." is all you say.

"The hell it isn't." Trish quips, almost offended.

"We don't want the same things Trish, and I won't make the same mistakes again." you draw the line. "What did he say?", you ask without shame, because you just have to know, even if it hurts you.

"Oh, you know, he put on his usual 'Joel grumpy face' and walked out on me. But honestly, what did you expect?" she shrugs and continues, "So, if 'it's not like that'", she air-quotes you mockingly, "why don't you give Marcus a real chance? He's a good guy and I don't often say that," Trish points her finger at you.

"I'm sure he is Trish, but I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's not honest."

"To whom?"

"To him."

"And..?" she presses you.

You close your eyes, because you really don't want to say it and it feels frustrating but comforting at the same time to have a friend who knows you so well. "And to my heart.", you mumble coyly.

"Oh, baby c'mere. You really like my stupid cousin, don't you?" Trish wraps her arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a tight hug.

"No, I do not." It's more than that. "And don't push it any further, it's not happening.", it's your turn to point the finger at her.

"Ok.", she sighs troubled. "Ok, look at me and listen carefully.", she makes a serious face, holding your hands in hers as she begins. "Joel's my cousin and he is a good man and I love him, but he has his own issues to deal with-"

"What do you mean?" You interrupt her curiously. You never thought to ask about his past before, it seemed invasive.

"It’s not my place." she cuts you off with a guarded look that seems so foreign on her face and continues, "The point is, you cannot wait for him forever."

"I'm not-" you start to deny it, but Trish grabs your face in her palms, squeezing you gently to make her point and you stop mid-sentence.

"You deserve to be happy. And you can't miss something you've never had." her eyes bore into yours, full of care and concern.

Her last words strike you like a slap on the face.

Oh, but you can. You already are.

Another two weeks have passed and you still haven't heard from Joel. He's stuck in your head like a virus, unable to think of anything else. This is the longest you've gone without talking. It's taking its toll on you, making you fidgety and jumpy, irritated by the simplest things. You've reached your breaking point and you're ready to call him, just to see if he's OK.

And, if you're honest with yourself, to give him a chance to make a move. He might think you don't want him to reach out. That thought makes you even more angry, you sound so pathetic in your head, begging for a man's attention. A man who has never made his intentions clear. You should stand up for yourself, hold your own.

You're at the office, shuffling through your bag, looking for your phone, still debating whether to call him. As you reach deep into your bag, searching through the million things you stuff in there, you feel a hard, papery thing on your fingertips. You fish it out and see that it's Marcus' card. You don't even remember putting that thing in there. But you remember him giving it to you.

He was such a gentleman and so thoughtful that night. He didn't ask for your number and he didn't press to put his on your phone. He gave you his card, clearly stating that he hoped you would get in touch with him.

"..why don't you give Marcus a real chance?.."

You take a deep breath and unlock your phone.

"..You cannot wait for him forever.."

This is it.

"..You deserve to be happy.."

You're going to call him. Right now? Yes, right now.

He picks up after the third ring.

"Agent Pike.", his voice deep and smooth, runs like honey in your ears. You remember how much you liked the sound of it.

You’re taken aback for a moment, you'd almost forgotten what he did for a living. It was strange but interesting to hear him like that, it stirred something in you. "Uh- um-" you lose your train of thought for a second, "hi- I don't know if you rememb-"

Marcus says your name instantly, the surprise evident in his tone. "I was beginning to think you'd either lost my card or I'd made a terrible, terrible first impression on you," he says with a soft laugh, vulnerability coloring his voice.

"No, no, god- no, nothing like that.. It was really nice to meet you!" you reassure him, because it really was.

"Yeah, you too.." Marcus replies and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn't say anything else, giving you time to collect yourself.

"I just-" you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to freak out, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, you hadn't planned this, "I've been really busy, with work and the kids, I haven't had a chance to..." the words catch in your throat as you think of the real reason you've been busy.

Obsessing over unavailable men.

But you don't want to lie to Marcus, he's been so kind and open, so you pause, looking for a way out of the hole you've dug yourself into.

"Hey, it's OK," Marcus takes the lead, sensing your discomfort, "you didn't have to call, but I'm really glad you did. I thought about getting your details from Trish in case you lost my number, but then I didn't want to force you into anything in case you didn't lose my number, you know?" he laughs timidly.

"Yeah, I know; that is so thoughtful of you. I'm- I'm glad I called." It feels strange to admit something like that, something so small, to be honest, to be so open and talk about positive things, to make someone feel good with your words on a personal level. You've spent the last few years just doing it for your daughters, loving them, hyping them up, rooting for them, but it's a change that you welcome and you discover that you really, really missed it.

There's a short silence on the other end, which makes you feel anxious, so you decide not to bother him any more. "I'm sorry I called during office hours, I-"

"No, no, no, don't even think about it, there are no office hours at my line of work anyway, so.." Marcus rushes to put you at ease. "I was just wondering if I should ask you out or if I'm jumping the gun," he blurts out and you can feel his hesitation through the phone.

"Well," you try to lighten the mood, "you're the one asking questions for a living, so why don't you earn your keep?" you bite your lower lip in anticipation and then snicker to yourself. You hear Marcus laughing, amused and impressed by your little stunt, and you have a deep desire to hear it again, knowing that it's your doing.

Marcus is not one to shy away from a challenge, so he delivers quite brilliantly. "It would give me great pleasure if you would go out with me," he says your name softly at the end, "I know it can be tricky with the girls and work and all that, but I'm sure we could work something out; my office hours are very flexible," he informs you, cleverly covering all your possible obstacles.

"I thought you didn't have office hours..." you return playfully, feeling lighter already, the thought of Joel still lingering, but the pain of it fading in your heart.

"For you I do." Marcus deadpans with an amazing ability to not make it sound cheesy. And you know exactly what kind of ability it is.

The one of honesty.

Your heart is in your mouth. You're sure of it. You can taste your heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. As much as you've tried to play it down, you're nervous, your stomach is in knots. You spend most of the evening whining to Trish on the phone, freaking out about what to wear and ending up with a "What does it matter anyway? It's one date and that's it, he's not sticking around. Yeah, he's not. I'm good, I'm fine, this is fine." you shrug as you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror.

Trish's voice brings you back to reality, "None of that, everything's going to be fine, you're going to have a good time and you're going to keep having a good time." You looked sideways at the phone as if Trish could see you through it, glancing at the time. "Ok Trish, thanks for the pep talk, but I have to go or I'll be late."

"Sure thing babe, have a great night-"

"Thanks Trish-" you speak over her voice sure she's done with the pleasantries, but-

"-and don't forget to fuck 'im."

The line goes dead before you can reply.

Jesus Christ.

"You got this. You got this. You got this," you chant to yourself, pacing the living room, checking the time on your phone every thirty seconds. "Yeah," you exhale with nervous conviction, "you got this." The doorbell rings and your stomach clenches. Conviction my ass, "No, you don't." you mutter before rushing to answer the door.

Your heels click on the wooden floor and you pin the hem of your dress down once more, just to be sure. It wasn't terribly short, but still, you haven't dressed for a date in God knows how long.

You open the door and your breath catches in your throat. But you could say the same about Marcus. You look at one another for a moment, both admiring each other. He looks sharp, clean-shaven, with a prominent jawline that makes you want to suck on it from side to side.

His hair is combed back and slightly to the side. He looks so handsome and then he smiles at you. A real smile, big and toothy and bright and beautiful. His eyes crinkle and his plush lips stretch with the force of it. His suit is elegant and clean, neatly pressed, and the two top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing a hint of his tanned chest, making it more casual.

"Hey.." Marcus speaks first, pulling himself out of his haze. His eyes drink you in, unable to land on one spot, admiring your simple but elegant black dress that stops mid-thigh, the softness of your exposed skin, the curves of your body and the features of your face.

"Hi..." you say back shyly, noticing his admiration.

"I- Christ-", he stutters almost confused.

"What's wrong?" you fidget with the fabric of your dress, your nerves getting the better of you once again.

"I almost forgot how beautiful you are-" Marcus admits, his eyebrows raised, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. "-you look amazing," he compliments, raising his arm and pointing his open palm in your direction.

You pray that you can fast-forward to the actual date and stay right here on the threshold of your house at the same time. "Oh, thank you -" you reply quietly, with a shy smile on your lips.

"These-" Marcus raises his other hand, suddenly remembering what he's holding, "these are for you," he hands you a beautiful bunch of flowers, obviously made specifically for you by a florist, wrapped in a beautiful ribbon. What is it about this man that turns the most clichéd things into thoughtful actions?

"These are so beautiful, thank you, let me-" you point towards the house so you can put them in a vase, signaling him to come in with your head.

"Hope it's not too much..", Marcus wonders as he enters the hall of the house.

"It's perfect," you smile warmly as you return from the kitchen with the filled vase and place it on the entryway furniture, admiring the arrangement. You place the palm of your hand on his bicep, reassuring him as you turn to leave.

His eyes shine with appreciation as he takes your palm in his warm hand, planting a soft kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. His scent fills your nostrils, sweet and masculine, and you can almost smell his shampoo as he leans forward. Your lips part and your eyes widen at the intimate contact, but instead of feeling pressured, all you want is for him to do it again on any part of your skin he likes. His plush lips are warm and soft, leaving the slightest trace of moisture as they part your skin, sending a wave of shivers through your body.

You stifle a gasp but you can't hide the dilation of your irises and he can't hide the hunger behind his. He cups your cheek in his hand, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. "Ready?" he asks in a hushed tone.

"As I'll ever be."

The drive is bathed in bits of small talk and comfortable silence, appreciating each other's presence without having to fill the quiet of the cabin every second. Marcus' gaze is split between the road ahead and you at his side. He drives with one hand, his right resting comfortably on the gearbox.

God, you're such a cliché, noticing the way his broad palm rests there, the veins bulging between his fingers and on his hand and it makes you squirm in your seat. Your date hasn't even started yet and you're already feeling uncomfortable in your underwear. Are you that needy? Or is it him? Is he doing this to you?

Joel.

No, stop. Don’t think about him. Not right now. Stop.

Joel.

No.

Joel.

NO.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until Marcus is asking if you're all right.

"What?" you snap out of your haze, jerking your head to look at him. He looks worried, his forehead forming a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I lost you there for a minute, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't gotta do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Say you're fine. You're allowed not to be."

You start to contradict him, but then you realize he's right.

"You're right," you admit, looking at him sheepishly. "I'm just nervous- and it's not your fault-" you hasten to explain, "I just haven't done this in so long that it feels like it's happening to someone else, like I'm watching myself from a distance."

He smiles at you knowingly and you add frustratedly, "That's so uncool, I'm sorry, I should be-"

"Moment of truth?" Marcus cuts you off before you can finish your thought.

"Um- OK?"

"I'm already hooked." he bites his lip, stealing a glance in your direction, his shoulders shrugging as if he had just told you the most natural thing in the world.

"Excuse m-" you look at him in bewilderment.

"I know I should play hard to get and do all the stuff everyone does on a first date, act cool and whatnot," he gestures in the air with his free hand, "but really? I'm hooked. Captivated. So-" he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully, "if anyone should be anything, it's me, scared that I'm going to screw this up, somehow. But you know what?" he looks at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

"What?" you manage to croak, your whole body buzzing with anticipation.

"I'm going to choose to enjoy this night by being myself-" he stops and scrunches his eyes in thought, "-well, ok, I'm going to hold back a bit," he jokes playfully, making you both laugh at that, relieving some of the tension and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, "because I don't know if I'll get another chance. I can only hope that at the end of the night you'll choose to see me again."

He brings your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles tenderly. He's said all the right things, everything you want to hear and dear God, he makes you want to climb him like a tree. You bite your lower lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood.

He studies your face and your fluttered expression for a moment, a smile of accomplishment painted on his perfect mouth, before he adds, "And you shouldn't be anything other than what you want to be. Neither of us should."

The date was not what you expected, because it was actually a success. Zero awkwardness, lots to talk about, mutual humor and gentle glances. You started with dinner in a not-too-casual-not-too-formal restaurant and ended up in a great bar, lively but not too loud, where you had delicious cocktails over and over again. Not Marcus though, because he was driving. So responsible, you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck.

Marcus was truly interested in you. He asked you about everything, he really wanted to know about your life. You didn't delve much into the divorce and he didn't push it. But you told him more about your background, your work, your daughters, the challenges of being a single mother and to your surprise, he listened. Actively. When you told him it was his turn to spill the beans, he told you about his job and his specialty; his move to Texas for a fresh start and when you asked him why he felt he needed one, he reluctantly told you about proposing to his girlfriend of two months.

"I know, I know-" he raises his hand in defence as he shakes his head in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I guess-" he looks down at his empty glass as if searching for answers, "sometimes I have a hard time letting things go."

He dares to meet your eyes through his lashes, to study your reaction. But your expression is neutral, no judgment on your part. "But I'm working on it, letting things happen naturally, you know? If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." he shrugs casually.

"That must be hard for you to deal with." you observe.

"Why would you think that?" he seems curious to know what you think of him, smiling crookedly.

"You strike me as someone who really tries to work things out, to fix what's broken. You don't give up easily, do you?"

His eyes bore into yours as he confirms, "No, I don't," smirking at you. You break eye contact and look down at your lap, biting back a smile of your own.

Suddenly you hear your name being called and you scan the room to find the source. You see Tommy just a few meters away, coming towards you to say hello. Marcus looks between the two of you, his eyes finally landing on yours, catching your faltering smile. "Hey, Tommy, how are you?" you hug him gently and then introduce the two men.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Tommy holds out his hand as Marcus extends his own, "You too."

"Who's the lucky girl this time, Tommy?" you tease with a devilish grin as you wink at him.

"The lucky girl is actually my brother." Tommy laughs breathlessly and your face immediately falls as he points his thumb behind him.

Joel is there at the other end of the bar, sitting on a table, his gaze fixed on you, his whole posture stiff, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard on you. You raise your arm weakly and wave at him, and he nods back sternly.

Marcus misses absolutely none of this.

How long had they been there? How much did he see? Did you do anything inappropriate? you keep checking yourself for any flawed behavior. But then you realize that you don't have to answer to him or anyone else. You can do as you please. So why do you keep hoping you haven't let him down?

"You wanna join us? There's plenty of room, come on.", Tommy invites you to their table.

You feel your legs give out just at the thought of this gathering and you try to decline politely, "We wouldn't want to impose, it's OK-"

Tommy gives you a confused look, as if you haven't spent the best part of the last two years hanging out together. "What the hell are you talking about, love? Come on, move that ass of yours." he waves his head in their direction. You glance swiftly from Tommy to Marcus and then back to Tommy, hoping he'll get the message, but he doesn't. Damn it, Tommy.

Marcus notices your apprehension and puts the palm of his hand on your forearm, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"Are you OK? Do you want to go instead?" he says in a quiet voice, just for you to hear.

You almost jump at his suggestion, "No, no, I just don't want you to think I'm not having a good time with you…" you lower your eyes, feeling vulnerable.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Marcus lowers his head to meet your gaze, "I think I'd know if this date was going south. But if for some reason it is and I'm too smitten to see it, I'm all ears." Marcus searches your eyes and you shake your head with conviction.

"It's not," is all you say, and you lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek, on the side of his face that is hidden from Joel's inspection. As if that would make what you just did any less obvious. Marcus' lips part, and he turns his head sideways to look at your profile, almost brushing it with his own.

His eyes linger on your mouth as you lean back to your seat, and then he licks his lower lip like a starving man preparing for his favorite meal. "Let's go meet your friends before I do something impulsive," he whispers in your ear, his grip on your arm tightening, his nose pressing against your temple and his lips brushing your earlobe.

Goosebumps spread across your skin and you have half a mind to get the fuck out of here and drag him back to your house. But instead you giggle like a schoolgirl and lead the way to hell, feeling the warmth of his hand on your lower back and the moisture of your pussy running down your thigh.

If a person could combust out of stillness, it would be Joel. You're not even sure he's breathing at this point. You train your eyes on his chest, trying to follow the rise and fall of his rib-cage, just to make sure he doesn't faint.

He's sitting directly opposite you, next to his brother, who's sitting opposite Marcus. He's nursing a beer with one hand, the other behind Tommy's seat. He barely speaks to you, he avoids looking at you and that makes you feel like you’re doing something wrong and he's giving you the cold shoulder. It takes everything you've got to swallow the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes, but you do it.

The same waitress who took your previous orders comes back and asks what you and Marcus are having. You order a beer, and before Marcus can place his own, Joel spits, "If you're driving her back, you shouldn't be drinking," giving him a disapproving look.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your eyes dart from the waitress to Joel and then to Marcus, ready to apologize on his behalf. You knew Joel could be abrasive, but never so blatantly rude. Those were the first words he said to him.

Jesus, what is his problem?

Marcus seems to be able to handle his own, answering to you instead of Joel without missing a beat. "Good to know you have such protective friends," he says with a twinkle in his eye and then he orders, "I'll have the same as before, thank you.", shifting his gaze to the waitress. "One soda with a slice of orange coming up," she says politely and leaves to get your drinks.

You glare at Joel, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention, although he flinched almost imperceptibly when he heard Marcus' choice of drink. Marcus gives you a gentle kiss on the temple and you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what's going on between you and Joel, whose jaw is twitching at the sight of Marcus' public display of affection towards you.

You envy Tommy at the moment because he seems blissfully unaware, so you turn the conversation to him. Or at least you try, because as soon as you open your mouth to speak, Joel cuts you off and asks Marcus what he does for a living.

You can't help but think that after your first meeting in that god’s forsaken bar, it took him months to strike up a conversation with you, but tonight, for some reason, he just can't seem to shut up.

Marcus, being as polite as ever, gives him the general answer that he works for the government.

"Ah, a white collar," Joel replies condescendingly and your eyes bulge out of their sockets, "must be nice, relaxed." still not looking at you and God does he tick you off. Tommy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at you, not sure what's going on. In any other case you would have found it endearing. Not so much now.

You too are squirming in your seat, trying to think of a way out of this awkward situation. This is not how you imagined your first date would end. And it's certainly not how you expected to meet Joel after all these weeks.

Marcus seems unfazed by the veiled hostility coming his way, smiling back at Joel, almost enjoying the antagonism. "Not necessarily, but I can't talk about it either." This catches Joel's attention and he looks at you questioningly for the first time. You tilt your head slightly to the side, signaling what are you doing? but Joel takes his eyes off you, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

"What about you? What do you do for a living?" Marcus returns the question.

"We're contractors, me and Joel; we're brothers," he gestures between himself and Joel, "and we work together." Tommy chimes in quickly, having reached his limit of awkwardness at the table. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it's not long lived.

"And how do you all know each other?" is the next natural question to come out of Marcus' mouth.

Joel's eyes land on you briefly, something flashes past them and before you can stop him-

"She and I actually met in a bar..." Joel smirks at Marcus, but you speak at the same time-

"Joel-" Your voice is firm as a warning, fully accepting that your tone might be alarming to your unsuspecting company.

"What?" Tommy's voice falters, laughing uncomfortably, completely at a loss. Marcus reads the table, his eyes darting between the three of you, at the same time placing a protective hand over your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

"What?" Joel repeats in a different tenor to his brother and he shrugs, smiling, "It's no big deal, tell them," he has the audacity to put you on the spot, nodding his chin at you.

You feel the contents of your stomach move up your esophagus, cold sweat coats your skin in a thin layer. Betrayal. That's all you can think of. "Uh-", you try to find the words, but nothing comes out, betrayal, you're not good at it, lying doesn't come easy to you, betrayal, especially with three sets of eyes on you. Joel just sits there with a smug look on his face and you wish you had the guts to slap it out of him.

Betrayal.

Marcus' voice brings you back to the present, are you all right?, a soft whisper caresses your ear and soothes your insides. The bile in your throat begins to return to its rightful place, but your eyes are already moist, your waterline glassy, a look of defeat and disappointment painted on your soft face. Joel sees it all written on those contours of yours that he has come to know and marvel at from afar, and it is as if a sudden realization hits him, snapping him out of his asshole behavior. He is cruel to you.

"All right, all right," he rolls his eyes and continues with a sigh, and Tommy's eyes return to his brother, but Marcus' remains fixed on you. "We met in a bar and we had a heated..." he stops abruptly and your face takes on a look of horror as he searches for the right word. "...argument." Joel finally adds. "We exchanged a few words, but then we ran into each other at my cousin's house and the rest is history." he laughs as he waves his hand in the air and winks at you.

You bite your lower lip as hard as you can to keep your chin from trembling, but a single tear of relief or suppressed anger, you're not sure anymore, escapes from the side of your face that only Joel can see, as you give him a forced, watery smile.

Luckily the bar is dimly lit, otherwise they would all be able to see the redness spreading across your chest, the rage manifesting itself on your body. Used and played is how you feel, and Joel is the last person you would have thought would put you in this position. You'd bet all your money on it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tommy wonders aloud, looking between you and Joel. You clear your throat and have no choice but to confirm Joel's lie. "It felt awkward at the time, so we pretended we didn't know each other. It was an unfortunate moment, one I deeply regret," you lock eyes with Joel and see his facade almost crumbling, "that will never recur, ever again." you continue to stare at him as you speak the last words with concealed bitterness. For the first time that night, he looked down at his lap in shame and regret, pretending to peel the label off his bottle with his thumb.

The ride home was silent, you were emotionally drained, something Marcus picked up on easily, so he simply offered his open palm, which you gladly accepted, tucking your fingers between his own. He continued to caress your skin, back and forth, and it was all you needed to calm your nerves.

As he walked you to the front door of your house, you felt compelled to apologize to him in a profound way. "I'm so sorry about Joel," you shake your head, looking down at your feet, your fingers scratching your forehead, a worried look on your face, "he can be intense sometimes -" why are you defending him?

Marcus lifts your chin with a gentle finger under it, his thumb caressing your jawline. "I don't care about Joel." With one simple sentence, he has erased him from your conversation. No more room for him to steal any longer of your night with Marcus.

“But-”

“I'm the one standing on your porch right now am I not?”, the implication clear in his voice and words.

“I'm not sure what-” you try to avoid confirming or denying his assumptions.

"Mhm," he smiles knowingly, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for something. You feel safe with him, but you can't shake the feeling that you've ruined everything. Marcus' eyes drop to your lips and he slowly leans forward, stopping just inches from you, waiting for you to initiate. You can feel yourself unable to relax, your body stiff, frozen. But you want to, you really do, so you ask instead, "Are you going to do something impulsive now?"

He smiles and leans even closer to your lips, his breath gently fanning across your plump skin. His nose gently nudges yours, "Yes, I think I might."

Your lips almost touch when a muffled voice followed by loud barks startles you both, causing you to pull away and look around for the source of the disruption. After a few seconds, you both see a medium-sized dog running down the street. You wait to see if its owner follows, but no one appears. You turn to look at each other, giggling at the strange interruption.

Marcus caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles and you lean into his touch, the moment gone and lost. "I hope you had a decent time because I know I had a great one and I really hope I get to see you again."

"Marcus," you scowl at him, "are you fishing for compliments?" you chastise him teasingly.

"Well, a man can dream," he smirks playfully as he tries to get some distance between you in case he comes on too strong.

"You don't have to," you coo, grabbing his collar to crush your lips against his.

After the initial shock, Marcus holds your head in his hands, tilting it to return the kiss and deepen it. His soft lips massage yours, sucking and nibbling at your lower lip. His upper lip and tongue capture yours, tugging gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He licks into your mouth, exploring every soft cavity, and you suck on his tongue in return.

He grunts into your welcoming cavern and you fist the fabric of his shirt that adorns his chest tighter. He presses his body into yours, trying to keep his pelvic area from pressing into your lower abdomen, but you can feel his growing erection inescapably.

You come up for air and murmur into his mouth, "I had a great time and I'd like to do it again".

This time it is he who presses his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently, sucking all the air out of your lungs. Your body is on fire, your abdomen tingling with desire.

You whimper against his lips as you reach for the short curls at the back of his neck, tugging them gently between your fingers, causing him to growl against your wet flesh, and he can feel your nipples poking at his chest through the thin material of your dress as you press your torso against his in sheer determination.

He's sure he's going to lose it and fuck you in front of your house for all your neighbors to see if he doesn't stop now. He breaks the kiss, panting, his eyes boring into yours, your foreheads touching. "Christ, woman," he closes his eyes and laughs to himself, "you're going to give me a heart attack."

"Better me than old age, right?" you try to hide your teasing smile behind your tightly pressed lips.

"Hey, I'm about to arrest you for threatening a government official," he warns without any conviction or authority.

"Are you going to handcuff me, Agent?" you ask, looking at him through your lashes and it comes out more breathless than it should.

"Jesus." Marcus mutters through his teeth, his resolve hanging by a thread. "OK." he gives you a sharp look, "I'm going to leave for the sake of both of us," he says, but his grip on your hip tightens, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

"You could come in, you know," you offer, looking at him sheepishly.

His expression is pained when he has to turn you down. "And I'd like nothing more, but I want to do this right. Please, let me do this right." Marcus pleads softly, rolling his forehead over yours in desperation.

"What does that even mean?" you ask, a bit embarrassed by his rejection.

"Means I want to wine and dine you, spoil you, give you the perfect date," he coos into the soft skin beneath your ear, making you shudder at his soft promise. "And when you think you can't go another second without my touch, then I'll come in and spoil you some more," he continues, brushing his moist lips along the pillar of your neck. "I will spoil you in all the ways you deserve." he finishes, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your pulse point under your jaw. Your knees buck and your pussy contracts, squeezing out your sweetness at the feel of his warm and wet tongue.

"OK," you breathe out in a shaky voice, nodding dumbly, cupping his face in your hands and planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead murmuring "God, you're something," and his heart swells at your tender gesture.

Marcus takes a deep breath, pauses and seems hesitant, but speaks his mind anyway. "OK, I'm going to skip the whole 'three day rule' and call you tomorrow. Is that OK?" he looks anxiously into your eyes, "Am I rushing you?"

A spontaneous laugh escapes your lips at the sound of that. "I just invited you into my house, you think a phone call is going to rush me?" you frown, "You can call me whenever you want.", you say matter of factly. You turn to leave, but change your mind and face him again. "Actually," you bite your lip mischievously, "I need to make sure I can rely on the American authorities, so I'm counting on your word. I'll be expecting a call by tomorrow," you stifle a grin by pressing your lips together.

"Yes, ma'am." Marcus nods in amusement and gives you one last kiss, pressing his lips to yours for as long as he can before ushering you into the house. "Good night," he breathes against your lips.

"Good night," you whisper back with a shy smile and close the door behind you. Marcus walks to his car with a stupid grin plastered on his face, gets in and drives away, but not before making sure you have closed and locked your front door.

In the stillness of the night, Joel takes a moment to assess the situation and satisfied that the coast is clear, he carefully emerges from the large bush he was hiding behind.

He glances down at his dog pissed shoe and mutters to himself,

"Fuck."

previous |

[lovewithmary]

(not) moving on — a max verstappen x stark!oc x charles leclerc series

★ fc: madison beer ☆ summary: evangeline "evie" stark is in love with her best friend, max verstappen, but he tries his best to keep her at arm's length. but what happens when she starts to get close to his fellow drivers in the paddock? ★ notes: early chapter bc I am too impatient so I’m taking the poll results as is and assuming charles is the winner. anyways, drama is happening!!!

previous next series masterlist

"Evie's baking,"

"We know,"

"My daughter is baking for two tiny villages or two super soldiers, and none of you thought to ask if there was something wrong?" Tony asked, watching as his fellow Avengers, his wife, and his youngest daughter were all eating the pastries that Evie had been baking since she got off the phone.

"Parker tried grabbing the spatula from her hand, but she threw a bowl at his head. But luckily his Peter Tingle saved him and he dodged," Bucky explained, mouthful with a slice of one of the cakes Evie made.

"I told you not to call it the Peter Tingle!" Peter complained.

"I think she had a fight with Max," Morgan's tiny voice piped up, oblivious to the heads that turned to her.

"Morg, why didn't you say that earlier?" Pepper asked.

Morgan blinked innocently and shrugged, then said, "You didn't ask,"

"Okay, who wants to be the one to ask her about Max?"

A tense air fell between some of the most powerful people in the world, only for them to touch their noses and say, "Not it!"

Unfortunately for him, Tony himself was the last one to do it, which made him curse. "I should've just stayed in my lab," he muttered but went to the kitchen to see that Evie was already starting another batch of cupcakes as if the pile of used cupcake liners between Steve and Bucky wasn't enough.

"Hello, tesoro," Tony greeted, concerned at the fact that Evie barely reacted at the sound of his voice.

"The dining room isn't that far from the kitchen, papa. I don't need to have powers or be a Super Soldier to hear you guys," Evie commented.

"So, will it be easier to ask what happened between you and Max that's made you spiral into a hurricane of frosting— is that macrons? When did you learn how to make macrons?" Tony asked, caught off-guard.

"Max and I had a little misunderstanding. And I didn't know how to make macrons until earlier," Evie responded.

"A little misunderstanding? You're taking over my kitchen with baked goods for a little misunderstanding?"

"I will find a way to bake you if you don't stop!" She threateningly responded, the aforementioned spatula Peter tried taking was in her hand menacingly pointed at Tony.

Tony raised his arms up in surrender, "I won't ask then. I will just be here, in the corner of the kitchen, giving you moral support," he said, taking a step away from his daughter and near the door just in case.

Silence fell between the father and daughter, Evie angrily making a bowl of frosting while Tony was thinking about whether or not he had to bring in Pepper for his own moral support.

That was until, "Do I insert myself into people's business too much? Is it something I do regularly?" Evie blurted out.

"I think you insert yourself into people's business when you think you need to. I don't think it's a lot, but then again, you help me with my business, so I can't say it's too much," Tony shrugged.

She groaned, not getting a clear answer. She should've known that her dad wasn't going to outright tell her when she was being too invasive. "I'm serious, dad," she told him.

"Did Max say something? Whatever he said, ignore it. He drives for a living, he's wrong no matter what,"

"I thought you liked Max. You've known him since he was a kid,"

"I don't like him if he makes my daughter upset,"

"Dad..."

"What did he say?" Tony asked once more.

Evie sighed before washing her hands and grabbing her phone from the pocket of her apron and then giving it to her dad, unlocked and the texts already on the screen. She watched as her dad's face turned angry.

"I'll shoot him out of the sky with one of my repulsors—"

"Dad, no,"

"He didn't have to talk to you like that! That little shit—"

"What do I do?" Evie interrupted him, knowing that if she let him rant, he'd end up wearing one of the Iron Man suits, already on the way to wherever the next race was.

"Do what Starks do best,"

"Which is?"

"To get under people's skin,"

[katsu28]

hi Kait! congrats!! ☕️ "Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” with bradley bradshaw please!! ily

thank you! this is unbelievably late so i apologize but you know what the french say! soo la voo, or whatever (that's from tiktok, french tumblr girlies (gn) pls don't come for me)

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x roommate!reader (2k)

“I had a really nice time tonight, Jake.” 

“Yeah?” Jake smiled, letting your joined hands swing between the two of you as he walked you to your front door. “Me too.” 

“We should do this again sometime.” Was it too bold of you, asking for a second date when you were only moments away from the end of your first? Probably. But Jake was nice and charming and made you feel special all night. 

“Can I kiss you right now?” 

Your smile grew even bigger at his words. Of course you wanted this very sweet, very handsome man to kiss you. You were hoping he’d do it this whole night. “Please.” 

Jake slid a hand around the back of your neck, bringing you closer and closer until your lips connected. The kiss was everything you’d hoped it would be, but before either of you could deepen it, you faintly heard the sound of the locks unlatching from inside your apartment. Before you could warn Jake, the door swung open with a gust of wind. 

“Well hello there, you crazy kids!” 

You fought the urge to scream at your roommate’s smug as shit voice, pulling away from Jake with what you hoped was an extremely venomous glare aimed at Bradley. The smile on his face matched his tone of voice, shit eating and absolutely enjoying it. 

“Rooster.” Jake nodded awkwardly. He stepped back like he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, rubbing at the back of his neck. He avoided Bradley’s gaze, looking to you for any ounce of comfort you could provide, but there was little you could do when Bradley got like this. 

You’d been living with Bradley Bradshaw coming up on a year now, and for the most part it had been smooth sailing. He was a great roommate and tidy to a fault, always keeping his space neat and the shared space even neater. You probably had the Navy to thank for that. In addition to that Navy instilled tidiness, as a person he was kind and funny and a little bit of a dork, but you loved that about him. 

Something you didn’t quite love about him, however, was the way he acted whenever you went on dates. 

You couldn’t even really call it jealousy because you’d never been together—not that you hadn’t thought of it occasionally. With someone as perfect of a person as Bradley, the thought was bound to cross your mind sometime. It wasn’t quite territorial, but definitely more than him just looking out for you. 

“Hangman.” Bradley responded coolly. He mirrored Jake’s crossed arms, leaning against the door frame. “Getting back a little late, aren’t we?” 

“Shut up.” You said, words a near hiss through a tight smile. You turned back to Jake, splaying a hand across his chest. “Ignore him.” 

“He can’t ignore me, he’s standing on my doorstep.” 

“Bradley, I swear to god—” 

Jake patted your hand, giving it a squeeze before stepping away. “No it’s fine, I can take a hint. I’ll be on my way.” 

“Okay.” You sighed, trying hard not to sound too defeated. “Text me when you get home?” Jake nodded, but judging by how quickly he walked back to his car, it was safe to say there would be no second date. You stormed into the apartment without waiting for Jake to drive away, shouldering past a madly grinning Bradley with a frustrated huff. 

“You’re an asshole, Bradshaw.” You scowled, throwing your sweater at him. He dodged it easily, tossing it across the back of the couch with a snort. 

“I don’t like him!” 

“He’s from your squadron. He’s your friend.” You deadpanned, raising a brow. “You’re the one who introduced us to each other, and now you don’t like him?” 

“I don’t like him for you.” He corrected himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “He used to be a playboy, you know that, right? I don’t want him playing with your feelings!” 

You whirled around on your heel, fixing him to the spot with a glare. “Then why did you set me up with him?” 

Bradley’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, like he was searching for any excuse to answer your question. He could say he just wanted to help. He could say a whole lot of completely bullshit things, anything but the real reason. Bradley couldn’t give an honest answer to your question, not without exposing his own feelings for you. So he just shrugged, letting his hands slap against his thighs helplessly. 

“Don’t act like you did me any favors, Bradley. I don’t know what you have to gain from messing with my love life, but however funny you think you are, you’re not. So just stop it, please.” 

“Y/N, I—” 

“I’m gonna head to bed. See you in the morning.” 

You left him behind at that, hurrying to your bedroom before he could get in another word. 

-------

Bradley’s knuckles rapped against your door, echoing through the empty hall.

He wasn’t used to you being upset with him (not that he didn’t deserve it this time, because he definitely did). There was usually some sort of noise coming from your room, whether it was music or the show you were binging, or even just you having a conversation with yourself in the confines of your own space. Things that annoyed him a little at first, but soon grew to love about you. 

The silence right now felt weird. Foreign. Just another sign that he’d massively fucked up. 

“Hey. It’s me.” No answer. He knocked again, a little more insistent this time. “I’m sorry for being a dick.” Still no answer. “C’mon, Y/N. I hate it when we fight. And I really am sorry. Feel free to open the door and kick me in the nuts or something.” 

The door swung open with a creak, and Bradley squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation for a foot to the nether regions that thankfully never came. He cracked one eye open to see you retreating over to your bed. 

You’d changed into your pajamas in the time that it took him to formulate an apology in his head. Showered too, judging by the whiff of your citrusy shampoo he got when he came to settle at the edge of your mattress. 

“Thanks. For not actually kicking me in the nuts.” 

“I was thinking about it.” 

“I deserve it.” 

“You do. You were petty earlier, Bradley. Kinda mean too.” 

He bobbed his head quickly, agreeing. “I was. And I’m sorry.” 

“You set me up with Jake only to sabotage any chance of a relationship with him. And you can’t even tell me why.” 

“It doesn’t matter why.” Bradley blurted. He cleared his throat, composing himself despite the disbelieving look you threw his way. “I know it was wrong of me to do what I did, but Hangman wasn’t right for you.” 

“That’s none of your business though!” You said shrilly, rising from your seat with anger. You all but stormed across the room, putting enough distance between Bradley and yourself so you wouldn’t feel tempted to strangle him. He was being impossible and way out of line. “My love life—who I date, who I like, it’s none of your business!”

Bradley was growing angry too, but not at you. At himself, for letting his feelings for you get to this point. “It is! It is my business when I know there’s someone better out there for you. Someone who understands you and supports you and loves you—who would never even think about treating you like anything less than the amazing person you are.” 

“You’re not making any sense. Why do you even care so much?” 

“Of course I care! I care about you, Y/N, you know that!” 

“I know you do, but that’s not—” You let out a frustrated huff. “Why are you so mad?” You exclaimed, genuinely exasperated at the way he was acting. 

“I’m not mad.” Bradley scoffed. “I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” 

“Like who, Bradley? Who’s this someone better you keep talking about?” 

“Me.” He said simply. It was blunt—maybe a little too much so, but maybe it was necessary. Dancing around the fact hadn’t done any good, so maybe this unexpected approach would give a different result. A better one. 

All your anger dissipated in a flash, replaced with hurt. He had to be kidding. This had to be some sort of fucked up joke, because there was no way Bradley Bradshaw had feelings for you. Not in the same way you felt about him. “Bradley, that’s not funny.” 

“I’m not trying to be.” He insisted, shaking his head. “I mean it. I saw you from the side window, him walking you up to the step, and when I saw him kiss you, I just—there was this feeling…like I’d been kicked in the chest. And when I see you, every morning, every night, every day, I feel like I—” 

“Stop.” You whispered, barely audible. Bradley’s voice died mid-sentence, brows knitting together at the sight of your seemingly pained expression. “What are you doing? What do you want from me, Bradley?” 

“I want you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. All I still want.” 

You didn’t reply for a scarily long time, and when you did, your voice shook. “If you cared about me like you say you do, you wouldn’t have done what you did earlier.” 

Bradley’s stomach dropped, tendrils of guilt creeping their way up the back of his neck like vines. He hadn’t even thought of it that way. He’d been so preoccupied with his feelings, he hadn’t even stopped to consider yours. From your perspective, Bradley was doing this all out of spite. (Which wasn’t at all true, but things weren’t looking too good for him.)

“It was stupid. A mistake, I know. One I’ll try my damndest to amend.” He insisted, reaching out with a reassuring hand on top of yours.

The moment his hand touched you, you stiffened. Didn’t pull away, didn’t retreat like you’d been burned, but it had the same effect. Oh, he’d definitely fucked up. You’d never reacted to him like that before, never had any reason to. Now you did, and the reason for it was entirely his own doing. 

“I think you should leave.” 

“...The apartment?” 

Your shoulders crept up to your ears, dropping in a haphazard shrug. “No. I don’t know, just—let me be alone right now?” 

He murmured out a soft okay, rising from his seat. He knew when to leave things be. Or he did now, at least. 

What he really wanted to do was to reach out as he passed you, to hold your hand or brush along your cheek or something, anything, to make you understand that he hadn’t told you to hurt you. But he didn’t, because he knew it would only make things worse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen, I—yeah, I’m just…sorry.” 

You didn’t respond, just kept your eyes trained on your socked feet like they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. It made his guilt grow a thousandfold. He lingered at the threshold of the room a moment, hoping you’d garner one last glance at him and see just how sorry he was. 

You didn’t. 

Bradley let the door click shut behind him on his way out. He let out the biggest, heaving sigh, letting his head tip down towards his chest, because seriously, he was such an asshole.

He’d never been good at the whole “talking about his feelings” thing, and it was clearly showing, bleeding into his words and actions as if it were some sort of excuse for him to be acting the way he did. 

He hated how it made you feel like he was trying to sabotage your love life. It had never been his intention, but intentions didn’t matter in this situation.

How could he even begin to try and make this better? Would you even let him have the chance? 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[happiest-hotch]

Dinner for Three

Summary: Going to the BAU with the intention of dragging your boyfriend away from working all night proves to be a good decision when you meet a team member of his who needs some cheering up based on the ending scene of 11x09 with an Aaron Hotchner x reader component

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (fluff)

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: a very slight sexual reference

You're slightly disappointed when you get Aaron's call.

He'd left the BAU early that night to pick you up for your 8 pm dinner date. It hadn't worked, and he texted you something cryptic about a new case involving a longer-running case that concerned the team's technical analyst.

As always, he was incredibly apologetic, calling you as soon as he had a chance, but you don't mind. You know how important his job is and the sacrifices he has to make. Plus, the other times this has happened, he more than made it up to you, proving to be the sweet boyfriend you know he is.

He texts you the next night to let you know they're still working, but he's okay and in Virginia. It's so late that you don't get a chance to text him back until the morning, and you're just hoping he got some sleep during the night, but it doesn't seem likely.

On the second night, he's more upbeat, delivering the good news about his case closing. Oddly, you don't get another message that he's on his way into DC.

With your own profiling effort, you deduce he went to the BAU and got stuck into his paperwork, no doubt putting eating and sleeping at the bottom of his priority list. As a diligent girlfriend, you're walking out the door of your apartment to force him to leave to get something to eat before you can overthink about having never been to his office or the possibility he might not want to see you.

After making it through security and proving who you're there to see, you take the elevator to the sixth floor. It's dead silent, probably because it's close to 10 at night.

Aside from the fluorescent overhead lights in the bullpen and the corridor, the only other light on is an office on the left after you step off the elevator.

It has to be Aaron's since he's most likely the only one here, you reason as you walk toward the door. Gently you tap on the doorframe, but the woman inside definitely isn't your boyfriend.

There are personal belongings in the office, clothing, and boxes scattered on the sofa and table, and two suitcases on the floor, like someone's been living out of the office, and judging by the jacket's pattern, it could be the woman in the room.

She jumps when she sees you, and you quickly apologize. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

She shakes her head. "No. No, it's okay."

Then you realize it's weird that you're just standing there without an explanation, a total stranger. "I'm looking for Aaron Hotchner."

Nervousness flashes across her features. "Agent Hotchner is due back soon. Sorry, who are you?"

It's a question you expected, knowing you might bump into other agents, despite hoping you wouldn't. Aaron has told you about how he keeps his personal life, and therefore you, further away from his professional life than he used to, and you're not sure he'd want his team to know who you are.

You also should have anticipated the suspicion in her voice since people out there want to hurt them and could find their way into the offices to do so.

"His...friend." You settle on. It doesn't even sound right to say anymore. "Although, if he said that about me, he'd be in trouble." You joke mostly to yourself.

She looks more excited now, grinning like a little kid who's found a secret block of chocolate. "I'm Penelope Garcia, the BAU's technical analyst."

"Oh, of course. Aaron talks a lot about you." You tell her, putting a face to the stories as you shake her hand. "I'm Y/n L/n."

"The reason he smiles every time he checks his phone nowadays?" She asks, now eager.

Heat rises to your cheeks. You've seen the smile Penelope's talking about when you catch Aaron looking at you before he bashfully looks away. It's adorable and heartwarming to think about him doing it around his colleagues and probably trying to hide it.

"Sometimes." You downplay it. "It could be him getting a picture of Jack."

She shakes her head. "No, he shows us those. Texts ding on his phone, and he tries to hide his smile, and that's how we know it's not BAU-related. Theories about what they are and who they're from is the hottest gossip around here."

"It better be me then." You say, although you have no doubts that it is. "Otherwise, he's got some explaining to do."

Penelope laughs lightly. "Don't worry. He's about as loyal as they come."

You had come to that conclusion by yourself, but it's good to have it verified by someone who has known him for over a decade.

She catches your eyes wandering around the room and explains it. "I don't know how much you know, but I'm on lockdown here until further notice."

"Aaron mentioned it vaguely." You tell her. "I'm sorry. It must suck." It's not the most aesthetically pleasing home with bleak concert walls, generic lamps, and no closet. She's provided you with information about Aaron's whereabouts and character, so it's your turn to try and help her. "This couch wouldn't look as bad with some sheets, and I'm sure you've got some decorations. I can help. Only if you'd like, no pressure."

Instantly, she sees the optimistic side of you that Aaron admires and loves. "Yeah." Penelope agrees slowly. "Thank you."

She hasn't wanted to take anything out of her bags because it means this nightmare would be real, but you're offering to help, and she realizes she could do with a friend. If she happened to stumble across information about her boss during the process, then so be it. 

You help her brighten up the room, complimenting her comfort decorations.

"So, what's it like to be in a relationship with Aaron Hotchner?" She asks you as she fluffs the throw pillows on the couch, and you hang fairy lights.

After ten minutes of non-Aaron-related talk, you know she's been refraining from asking questions about your relationship. 

"Amazing." You answer effortlessly. "He's..." You trail off from your sentence when someone clears their throat, and you turn around to see your handsome but tired-looking boyfriend standing in the doorway. "Hey."

His expression softens seeing you there, but his features show confusion. "Hey." He returns while acknowledging Penelope with a nod as he steps further into the room. The hand not holding his briefcase comes to rest on your lower back, and you lean into his warmth. "What are you doing here?"

You weren't expecting him to show you physical affection in front of people he knows, but it's a welcomed surprise. "I thought I'd come and convince you not to sit at your desk doing paperwork all night."

He avoids being very unprofessional and asking exactly how you planned to distract him since you're under the careful observation of Penelope, who's memorizing your interaction to repeat to the team tomorrow. 

"There are still a few things we need to go over, Garcia," Aaron says to her. About the case they just closed, you figure, but it can't be overwhelmingly good news because he wouldn't stretch out telling her that she's safe. "Are you going to be okay?"

You admire her bravery as she nods with tears filling her vision. "I'm gonna make myself a vegetarian omelet for dinner." She says before pausing. "Do you both want to stay?" She quickly backtracks. "Forget that. You've probably got places to be, sorry."

Aaron looks to you for your judgment, and although he's letting you decide since this would typically be time you two spend together, there's an answer he would prefer. 

"No, we've got nothing planned, and I'm starving." You confirm. Penelope's face lights up, the sadness she's holding onto about her new living quarters feeling less heavy. "Do you have jalapenos?" 

"Do I have jalapenos?" She repeats, suggesting an obvious answer. She moved to grab the ingredients. "I should let you know that I have had a love affair with all things hot and spicy since I was, like, 12."

You smile at her delight as Aaron takes the chopping board she handed him with a bowl full of jalapenos. "Maybe the more important question is will you judge me for putting them on my food even if they make me cry a little?" You ask, nudging Aaron, who knows the incident you're referencing.

She looks at him in horror before turning back to you. "Is there any other way to eat them?" She asks.

"Someone." You nod to Aaron, who's getting to work on his task. "Eats spicy food without even tearing up."

He snorts out a laugh. "You weren't crying 'a little.'" He reminds you, defending himself playfully. "It was full-on crying with mascara tracks down your cheeks. You should have seen her, Penelope." He continues. "Seriously, I thought we were about to get kicked out of that restaurant. The waitress was so concerned." He laughs at the memory. He concluded that night that your crying with pleasure tendency is much better when it's only the two of you.

You lightly hit him on the shoulder to scold him before letting your hand linger to test the boundaries. He relaxes under your touch, muscles relaxing a little.

"It's a natural reaction." You jokingly argue back. "I'm on a spicy food ban at restaurants now." You inform Penelope.

"Oh, you've got to come to the next pasta night at Rossi's." She tells you. "It's the best food you can get, no jalapenos involved."

You look to Aaron for permission, not wanting to agree to something if he doesn't want you around his friends. He smiles lightly at you, now knowing introducing you and merging two parts of his life isn't as risky as he thought it might be.

"I'd love that." You agree. "Ready for that, Aaron?"

"Please agree." Penelope jumps in. "They'll love her. Don't worry." She assures you. "I'll make sure the team knows how perfect you are for him." 

Aaron chuckles beside you. "I don't doubt that." 

There's a double meaning that you and Aaron catch. Most obviously, Aaron knows the team will find out about your dinner together and probably learn every detail about you that they can before you officially meet, and additionally, he doesn't have any doubts that you're perfect for him.

[brucewaynehater101]

DC Santa is a troll so when he knows he's going to die and he sends his powers to the young heroes he knows he's about to traumatize, he tweaks things just a little, he's got the time after all, he goes all over the world in a night, the comet is in slow motion to him, not that he'd move, and these little chaotic gremlins have been so good despite everything life has thrown at him and he really owes them quite a backlog of gifts

While Santa may go to apocalypse every year, he goes nowhere near Gotham

To Tim, Tim knows everyone's deepest desire with a look, this ability is especially effective in December. Tim becomes the master of picking out the best holiday and birthday presents

Cassie can speak and understand ALL the languages she comes across

People now automatically have some level of trust towards Greta, know that she's a nice person who would protect them to the best of her ability, had she stayed in the superhero community, she would have attained dick grayson levels of trust among the other capes

Kon has a sense of who's on the naughty list and who's on the nice list, makes it easier to steer away from creepers now who would take advantage of him since it's not like he has a grown up to help him figure that out

Bart is even faster and yet his metabolism is evened out a bit, he's less desperately hungry all the time, can get away with just snacks instead of eating an entire all you can eat buffet, though he's still capable of that, and he has even more of a sweet tooth than before

Slobo is capable of lifting even more than Lobo, the sort of strength and balance one would need to carry a sack filled with presents for the world, or the universe

Anita gets a knack for Christmas magic, the little illusions that bring a little extra joy to a person's life and when she and Tim collaborate they find they can put into motion butterfly effects, tiny actions that cause huge, joyous results, and Anita's gingerbread houses never rot

Cissie gets the anonymity, there are so many Santas but no one could ever tell you which one is real, in the future she never has to worry about someone connection her heroic past to her civilian present, except for her friends of course

I love this AU/hc so much, and how you included more than just the core four for it.

For Tim, I know he's absolutely using that power of his for no good. He uses it to make villains (and some Bats) cry when he mentions or even gets them their deepest desire. I am curious if the deepest desire is only for physical stuff or for the unattainable too (like I bet Dick would love to do a Flying Graysons routine with his parents one more time).

I love Cassie's cause she probably freaks the JL out when she starts speaking thr same dialect of an alien species no one has even heard of before.

Greta's is perfect. I hope she finds lots of use for it in her retirement. I would love a spin off of her just utilizing that power when she goes to college, gets a job, etc.

Kon's makes me want to cry. It's amazing for him, but the reasoning is so sad. I hope YJ is able to help him and that he's better able to take care of himself with this.

I like to imagine Anita's parents/kids looking up to her in amazement as her gingerbread house still stays standing after 5 months.

I'm glad Bart has more choice in his need to eat. Tim probably helps him by buying lots of food, but it's nice that Bart, in this AU, doesn't have to constantly be eating as much.

I don't know as much about Slobo (which is a damn right shame), but it seems DC did him dirty (something about him slowly dying and then sacrificing himself???). Anyways, I hope his strength helps him feel more reassured with himself and confident. I hope he can use it to uplift those he cares about.

Cissie's sounds great. There's tons of stories about the price of fame being a lack of privacy. With this, maybe she'll be able to have a normal life as well

[kairiscorner]

i just want what's best for you. — miles 42 x reader

summary: no matter how much miles may love you, you still have to get through his mom for you two to be together. first impressions didn't go so well, and now... now you're starting to think she's right about you. but somehow, you both come to an understanding, and... eventually, an understanding can be made between you two. pairing: miles 42 x gn!reader genre: slight angst + comfort word count: 2,646 request: Could you do a miles (42 or 1610 or both) x reader where his mom isn’t to fond of her but, it’s only because she doesn’t want to see him get hurt. And reader considers breaking up with him and his mom overhears and feels bad. a/n: hello, my lovely anon !! omg i loved writing this ngl, I INTENTIONALLY PUT MORE ANGST HERE THAN I DID FOR 1610 MILES AAAAA please multiverse, don't let this flop PLEASEEEE also SORRY FOR THE CRAPPY SPANISH AND OOC RIO, I TRIED UUEUEUUEUUE BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

you had never felt any more intimidated and nervous than you did right now as you sat down with miles' family for dinner. you had partners before and met their parents, it wasn't all so bad; you actually had fond memories of those people and sometimes would reminisce how kind they'd treat you, how they'd welcome you into their families and give you a home away from your home when you'd need it. however, when it came to miles' family... it was so-so.

his uncle aaron, without a doubt, was one of the nicest father figures you had ever encountered in your whole life. he was a sweet man who cared for miles and would, be proxy, care about you, too. he'd tease you and miles when he'd see you two together in the most low-key ways and still make miles lose all his cool and stoic composure around you when his uncle would expose how much he talks about you.

"this kid can't ever go through another day without thinking about you. like seriously, all i did was take him to the convenience store downtown and i see him with all these snacks i've never seen him eat before, snacks he told me he hates with a burning passion. i look at him and ask him why he's got those snacks, and he mutters under his breath... 'these're for them, not for me.' how cute of my nephew, no?" he said with a chuckle as miles glared up at his uncle and pouted at him, with you giggling at the story as everyone but his mother was laughing about that little anecdote.

uncle aaron nudged rio a little, to which she shot him a glare similar to miles' and muttered something under her breath in spanish. uncle aaron sighed as some tension was caught in the air and enveloped the entire dinner table, with no one else uttering another word or sound as you all ate in silence. you felt rio's gaze on you at times while you all ate, and unlike the other mothers you had encountered with your previous partners, she had a gaze that felt a little... judgemental, in a way?

you felt pretty self-conscious as rio looked at you, and you felt yourself jump slightly in your seat when she'd ask you questions about you and her son. she called your name randomly, shattering the silence and causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up as you nearly sprang up from your seat in utter surprise. "y-yes rio?" you asked her as she winced, as if she heard a discordant tune when you uttered her first name. without even looking up from her plate, she asked you, "did you know miles got a b in spanish? ay, i'm proud of you, mijo, though... you usually do so much better than that. i'm worried, have you been missing classes recently? and do you know anything about it?" she asked you as she turned her gaze up at you, causing you to freeze up and instinctively shake your head.

miles breathed out a small huff as he tried to think of a reason to give his own mother, who he promised he'd never lie to, as his uncle aaron tried to tell rio that maybe now wasn't the right time to talk about it, but rio told him in spanglish that now was as good a time as any, she had to know if her son was being distracted by... she didn't dare finish that thought. she looked over at you then at miles and raised an eyebrow. "so? is no one gonna tell me anything?" she asked the two of you as you bit the inside of your cheek, feeling pretty intimidated by her right now. "mama, it's nothing, i promise you, i--" "it's nothing?" "oh, no." uncle aaron muttered as he silently excused himself and left the table with his plate in hand, gesturing to you to follow what he did and to seek refuge into the kitchen, away from the mother and son.

you did as he directed and excused yourself, nearly stumbling out of your chair as rio's eyes followed you with a kind of suspicious gleam in those hazel eyes of hers. indistinct conversation and arguments between the mother and son were heard, with the sound of running water, the squeaking and setting down of plates being tuning their voices out as you gratuitously helped uncle aaron wash the dishes. "hey, sorry about them, miles' mom hasn't been in the best mood lately." he muttered to you as you nodded. "i-i understand, aaron. it's really okay..." you murmured back as you both finished, with uncle aaron wishing you a good night as he disappeared into the garage doing who knows what.

as you exited the kitchen, you heard rio's muffled voice from the dining room mention your name, and you walked over in a morbid kind of curiosity to know why she mentioned you when she was scolding miles; though a part of you thought of why, you hoped what you thought of wouldn't be the case. "sé honesto, ¿te estás distrayendo con ellos?" she asked miles with a stern voice as miles looked down at the ground, clearly frustrated, but wasn't about to run his mouth off at his own mother. he shook his head and murmured, "mi amante no tiene la culpa de lo que me ha estado pasando, mama."

rio sighed exasperatedly as she looked at her son in disbelief. "and you mean that? you seriously... look, mijo, no quiero hacerte infeliz, y sé que crees que entiendes lo que es bueno para ti, pero… no puedo permitir que ellos te pongan en peligro. they might... not be a good influence on you." she said with a soft voice as miles looked up at her with an incredulous expression on his face. "mama, you have no idea who they really are." he said as rio kept talking to him, but he stormed off on her. she called for her son repeatedly, but he marched into his room, with her sighing aloud and storming off herself, too.

you felt a heavy weight on your shoulders as your anxieties and worries over what miles' mother thought of you were realized; she doesn't trust you, and she doesn't think you're good for her son. you felt so weak in the knees at that moment, thinking that you would never be able to love miles freely without his mother intervening or trying to convince him you're not right for him, that you're a distraction for him. you didn't want any conflict between the two anymore, so you thought of a way to end their feud peacefully, and the only way that'd work was... one neither of you would particularly like.

you snuck upstairs to miles' room and gently rapped at his door, muttering that you were there, and that you wanted to talk to him. miles opened his door a crack, and when he could confirm it was you, he opened the door wider and gently took your hand in his. "cielo," he greeted you softly with a light squeeze of your hand as he looked at you. "am i ever glad to see you." he said as he led you into his room, with you reciprocating his touch and squeezing his hand back. he gestured for you to sit down on the side of his bed as he sat down, with you following him and sitting down on the plush of his bed.

he brushed a few hairs from your forehead and kept his gaze on you as you looked down at the floor, unsure of how to tell him what you were articulating to yourself in your head; unsure of how he'd take it, if he even will be able to. you sighed a little longer than you planned to, causing miles to pull away from you and have worry drawn on his face as he tried getting a better look at your expression. "cielo, are you okay? did something happen...?" he asked you as you shook your head gently. "nothing, nothing, i..." you began, but you stopped yourself, trying to think of how to tell him all over again as all you could think of at that moment was that: miles' mother doesn't think you're any good for him.

you took a deep breath and faced him with saddened eyes. "i'm sorry, miles, i just... i don't think you should be dating me anymore. it's not because of you, of course not, it's... it's on me." you whispered, with miles feeling like he took a blow to the gut, feeling utterly helpless and confused at what you just told him. he wasn't sure what you meant by 'it was your fault', but he wanted to let you know right now that you weren't at fault, for whatever it was that'd come between you two.

miles appeared a little more hurt and distressed by what you told him, the matter at hand still not sinking in, that you told him you'd break up with him... he couldn't, wouldn't, believe it. "what? amor, what do you mean? 'your fault'? i doubt that..." he began as he tried to reassure you, feeling himself coming undone at the seams and desperate to know why you wanted to part ways with him. was it because he couldn't spend as much time with you as before? because he was too busy with his job as the prowler to be with you? if you only told him, then... then he'd find ways to make it work, not make you feel alone ever again, make up for what he lacked in the past by working hard for you now in the present.

"is it... is it because i'm not able to spend much time with you as before? mi vida, i'm sorry... i'll make up for it, i promise!" he said as you shook your head. "no, miles... it's not your fault. it's mine, even if you don't say it is." you said with a melancholic voice as miles looked at you with feebleness filling his face as he tried to understand how it's your fault for anything. he defended you in front of his mother the best he could, and yet... he'd still lose you in the end, if not the argument.

you couldn't figure out how to tell miles that you didn't wish to break up, you wanted to be with him still, but there was no better way of getting his mom and him to make up if you were still in the picture. you heard his mom say it himself, you didn't seem like a good influence on him, and maybe her behavior towards you was a sign that you really weren't being good to miles, good to his parents, and just... weren't good in general. you sighed, trying to keep the tears from flowing as miles tried to tell you that if you really wanted to break up with him, he'd respect your decision, but... he begs of you to tell him how it's your fault.

you felt your heart throb and your throat flare up as you tried to stifle your cries and sobs. "i'm just, i'm not good for you, okay, miles? i'm sorry... you deserve better." you told him in a quieted voice as you got up and went over to his door, about to leave him and give him an easier time with his family than stay with him and just ruin his relationship with his mom even more.

"espera, mi cielo! hold on a minute, can't we talk about this...?" he called out to you as you opened the door to leave, to keep yourself away from miles to keep him and his mother from getting angry at each other and fighting all over again. however, when you opened the door, you saw a familiar face look back at you, and a familiar voice shrieking in surprise--it was miles' mom, who was eavesdropping on you two. you shrieked at his mom's shrieking, as miles shrieked at your shrieking.

"mama!" miles exclaimed as he saw his mom at the doorway, with her telling the two of you to calm down, and that nobody needs to break up with anybody. "i'm... i'm sorry i eavesdropped, but i came here to... to say sorry, mijo, and... i'm sorry to you, too." she said as she turned to look at you with guilt and shame in her eyes. "you didn't deserve to hear all that... i shouldn't have said that." she muttered as she looked at the two of you. she leaned against the doorway and sighed as she began to speak again, looking around miles' room.

"i didn't mean that you were a bad influence, i just... i default to worrying about what miles could be doing because, you're a teenager, miles--you're both teens and... you both wanna do your own things. it worries me when miles doesn't tell me anything, it makes me feel like i'm failing as a mom when... i'm the only parent you have now." she said in a soft voice as she looked at miles sadly and up at you. she sat down next to miles on the bed and held his hand. "i wish you could just be honest with me." she muttered to him as miles looked at her with sadness in his eyes. "i am being honest with you, mom. you don't even... you don't even know how amazing my partner is, you hardly give them a chance, and that's what hurts me every time." he said as you looked at the two of them.

miles' mom got up from the bed and placed her fingers underneath your chin and lifted your head up to look at her and sighed. "i'm so sorry i judged you too quickly, i just... mom instincts kicked in, and... i got a little carried away and thought i knew what was good for my baby boy, but... i guess i don't know as much anymore. maybe... i'd know him better if i trusted him, if i trusted you." she said with a slight smile on her face as you gave her a slight smile back. "again, i'm so, so sorry for how i was earlier, and... just, in general." she uttered as you nodded. "it's okay, mrs. morales." you told her as she smiled wider and pulled away from you. "y'know what, that just made my evening much better. i think i like you a bit better already. 'mrs.' morales, finally." she said with a slight chuckle as you chuckled back at her little quip, with miles smiling to himself as he finally witnessed you two get along. she let miles keep dating and seeing you, only if he promises to get his grades back up to how they were before.

as his mom left the room, miles told her you two needed to talk, alone. she understood, but reminded him not to lock the door. "lo tengo, mamá, entendido." he said as he closed the door the minute she headed down into the hallway, leaving you both in an awkward silence after you two had 'broken up' a few minutes ago. before miles could say anything, you wrapped him in a big hug, muttering under your breath how happy you were to be with him, that his mom finally accepted you. miles slowly reciprocated your hug, holding you close and kissing the top of your head as he smiled against your hair. he was beyond happy and relieved to know his mom finally saw you as a person he loved, not as a distraction to him or a bad influence, just someone he cared a lot about to devote himself to, someone he wouldn't leave nor let anyone, not even his own mom or uncle, get in the way of him loving ceaselessly.

he gets that his mom just wants what's best for him, but... maybe it was time for him to decide what's best for him on his own, and that'd be to love you with all his heart and stay by your side, never leaving you once because he loves you too much to let you go that easily.

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @fiannee @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @onginlove @meowmoraless

[levenlike11]

kageyama hadn't been too considerate about others, that is until he met you. everybody thought it was because of hinata and the team he became kinder but the credits were all yours. love really changes people.

he first saw you shopping with your friends at coach ukai's shop after school. he recognized your uniform, after all it was his school's - he ought to have noticed it, but couldn't remember your face. of course he was too shy to go up to you, so he preferred to admire you from afar. when one of your friends nudged you and pointed at him, he immediately turned his back and started running away with bright red cheeks.

of course you knew who he was, and how much of jerk he can be (at least that's what people said.) after you caught him staring, you decided to talk to him later that week. it was hard to catch him alone, always busy with practice or dealing with hinata but you managed to find him next to the vending machine, drinking his milk.

"are you really drinking plain milk?" you asked with a smile and he definitely looked surprised to see you. he quickly nodded his head and turned back to most likely escape again but stopped when you tugged at his jacket.

"i saw you staring that day, you know? why?" his cheeks had grown a pinkish colour already, not used to someone giving him so much positive (he'd like to think so) attention.

"i just, thought you were... you're really pretty and i saw you were from karasuno so i..." he couldn't put words together because of your intense but kind gaze, which made him feel warmer on his cheeks. his hands felt sweaty, he wasn't used to feeling like this.

"i'm y/n, if you'd like to meet." you smiled and reached your hand out. he looked at your hand for a few seconds, trying to register a response.

"kayegama tobio." he shook your hand and finally smiled, even if it was very little. you saw it and that's what mattered.

after that interaction, you were always around him somehow. you tried out for the volleyball team but failed, so you asked him to teach you volleyball after practice. you always asked him to eat with you at lunch and eventually became friends with hinata and the rest of the team through tobio. yeah, you also started to use his first name with him after a few weeks. he loved hearing you say it so casually. he never thought that you liked him or anything. you were just being friendly, that was all.

"tobioooo!" you squished his face after calling for him too many times. "you keep zoning out, have you been sleeping well?" you actually sounded worried about him. having someone that seriously cares about him felt great.

"yeah, i was just thinking about something." he mumbled under his breath.

"was it about how much you like me?" you grinned. his eyes widened, "no! why would you think that?!" he said louder than he would want to and closed his mouth with his hand.

"haha!! look at your cheeks! you're so red right now, i was just kidding. relax." you patted his shoulder and giggled at his reaction. see, only a friend. that's what you thought of him.

"were you, really just kidding..?" he asked, not looking at your face and choosing to look at the floor instead.

"yeah? why?" you furrowed your brows.

"because, i don't want to ruin our friendship but, i think i like you. like like you." he talked, voice barely above a whisper.

"what?" he was already reggetting his decision. "did you mean that? are you serious? that's not something to joke about." he didn't see a reason for you to blush right now. hinata was right about calling him oblivious all the time. he nodded his head, still staring blankly at the floor.

you touched his chin, making him flinch a little at the unexpected contact and pushed his face up to look at him in the eyes.

"i like you too." with the way you said it, so calm and straight, he thought you were the one joking.

"really?"

"yes, really! you're so stupid tobio." you smiled and pinched his cheek. "don't say that.." he pouted, making you smile.

"i was kidding. about calling you stupid, not about liking you!" he put his hand on yours that was still holding his cheek and pulled it in front of his mouth to plant a little kiss on the back of it.

"i really like you." you chuckled, "i really really like you too." his grin was wide enough to reach his ears at this point. and you both were too busy to notice hinata watching you two from afar.

"kageyama!! you finally confessed? well done bro, i'm proud of you!" he shouted happily. he had been rooting for you since the first day tobio told him about you. he was also happy he won the bet with tsukishima. (the latter didn't believe he actually confessed until he saw you two hand in hand and still grinning at each other.)

[mortarpestle]

ortolan

Short piece with professional chef!sukuna and younger kitchen porter reader. Title taken from the very brutal and illegal French delicacy of the same name, which one must hide their face to eat.

word count: 1.7k

*no curses au, age gap (chefkuna is in his 30s and reader is in their early 20s), employer-employee power imbalance, petnames ("kid", "brat"), Sukuna is intense, reader smokes right off the bat and is…a lil grim and unexpectedly Freudian?? Idk what happened here, suggestive themes ahead.

An angry red flake falls off the tip of your cigarette. It sways and loses some of its brightness on its way to the ground, succumbing to a puddle next to your feet. There's a couple more puffs left before you inevitably reach the filter, maybe double that amount if you're frugal with it. A few stolen breaths to catch until dinner rush.

You hate this fucking job.

You also know that by the time you clock out and return to your apartment, you’ll collapse on your bed with the prospect of a new shift working your nerves into a frenzy. Talk about an abusive relationship. Effectively stockholm syndromed by cutting boards and sous vides—and your boss.

Sukuna seems to have that effect on people.

Behind you, the back door creaks open. Heavy footsteps stamp down the stairs, coming to a stop by your makeshift ashtray. For a few precious seconds you’re content with counting the flour spots staining his black clogs (expensive brand, sleek, better than yours). He smells like his food; spicy, complex and a little smoky. The perks of working 14 hour shifts at a restaurant with high end cuisine and an even higher tax bracket among its customers, is that you’re afforded the luxury of smelling like a human being. No deep frier mystery oil notes clinging onto skin and clothes for you and especially him. You stifle a rather unsavoury thought about his cologne and inhale bitter smoke.

"You'll fry your lungs with that shit, kid."

Despite the distance, he sounds closer than you’d like, closer than you can handle having him. You don’t mean to shiver. Or for him to notice.

"That's the plan."

Every word coming out of your mouth makes you more conscious of your worldliness. Primarily your lack thereof. Speaking to your boss never ceases to make you seem like a peevish child in comparison. The little nickname he insists on using just for you doesn’t help either.

Sukuna doesn’t reply and your stomach churns.

"You don't smoke...why are you out here." You continue, painfully aware of your appearance.

"Don’t get it twisted. I should be the one asking you that. I can think of ten different things you should be doing before traffic picks up instead of getting cozy by the trash.”

The buildup sweat from the kitchen stovetops is slowly settling over your skin. Seated on one of the plastic crates left by your local produce supplier, you feel like a proper rat. What a picture to paint for the man singlehandedly responsible for funding your life.

Getting back to work is the lesser of the two evils you’re presented with. Still, one more smoke before shift's end sounds like a dream. You slip a stick out of the tobacco case tucked inside your apron pocket, taking his silence as permission to light it between your lips.

You smile.

"What's your vice, boss?"

Sukuna clicks his tongue. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He doesn't seem too offended. After working under him for nearly a year you've come to find that Sukuna is a man who is hard to surprise and equally as tricky to offend. Good at hiding it too, when he wants to. Which is why you ask again, be it a bad idea or not.

"Everybody has one. I've never met a professional chef without a few loose screws, so what is it?" Maybe you could've phrased that last better. You're too tired to care.

He mulls over your question without really giving into it. He’s awfully compliant today. Normally he would've chewed your ear off at the second cigarette.

Something’s off.

"I trust you include yourself in that crowd you speak of."

“Not really. I’m not a professional.”

(Ash stings your fingertips, but you refuse to let go.)

"You've got potential." He says, low and succinct.

You choke on your spit, laughing in earnest, "Sure.” Potential for cutting vegetables and cleaning after other people’s messes, maybe.

"I mean it, kid."

Sukuna leans against the railing, arms folding over his chest. One long glance out of the corner of your eye grants you with an intimate view of his tattoos. All these months you've been catching glimpses of the full design, unable to tell where it ends beneath the black fabric. Not a single hair is out of place. His uniform is rolled up just above his elbows, exposing tanned skin with tiny burn marks littered over hard muscle, no doubt from his early training years. He wears them like medals of honour.

The first thing you did after landing a position in his kitchen was googling his name. Ryomen Sukuna is fifteen years older than you and begrudgingly, the only thing standing between you and quitting as soon as tomorrow.

You’re no stranger to unwanted urges, the occasional intrusive thought. It’s human, you are human and therefore unjustly robbed of any sovereignty over your unconscious and its whims. You don’t think much of it. Even when you take your rare bathroom breaks outside peak hours, only to find that you’ve soaked through your underwear just from glances and strict instructions thrown your way. What does that say about you as a person? You don’t intend to figure it out today.

It's a classic case of treating the symptoms and not the source of your disease. Pretending he doesn’t exist outside of the physical place you both work at won’t get you very far. It won’t take long for the tide to turn over. Sukuna doesn’t play with his food. Only with the people tasked with preparing it.

You tug at a stray piece of lint on your chest, playing with the cotton ball over the flame of your lighter.

"If boss says it."

"Don't call me that." he all but sneers at you over your shoulder. His voice is grating when he wants it to be. You don’t flinch, not even when you turn around to catch the stare he’s drilling into your slouched back. On a second thought you don’t think he’s taken his eyes off of it since he he stepped out to join you. His stare is violence. He makes you want to crawl out of your own skin for comfort.

Working within a kitchen hierarchy is much like having a father; you get used to raised voices and empty threats whether you like it or not. With Sukuna creeping around the counters, you also learn to not talk back if you know what’s best for you. You consider yourself lucky to have never stood on the receiving end of anything more severe than a scolding. Then again, you’re not important enough in the grand scheme of it all, and you make a point to take advantage of that as often as you can.

"Are you not?" you sneer back.

"I'm quitting," Sukuna bares his teeth at you, "Expected to be gone by next week."

You bet he’s enjoying the look on your face. Surprised stupid.

"Pick your jaw up off the ground, s'not a good look on you."

You collect your thoughts and try to convince him that this doesn’t change everything for you. "Can I have your knives? The fancy Japanese ones you keep inside the office safe."

"You better keep your mouth shut and listen to what I have to say before I change my mind you brat." His voice commands you to look at him, "I'm not retiring. I'm opening my own joint and I want you to join me."

You feel nauseous.

"Why."

You've never been one to count your blessings, mainly because it's not worth doing so when you can do it on only one hand. Everyone says your early 20s are hell, the trenches of adulthood. No second-hand warnings and half assed attempts at lukewarm life lessons could've prepared you for the slump you hit after graduating college. Money is tight as it's always been, only now you've got twice the amount of problems and half the support.

The job advertisement was a beacon of good luck amidst a sea of bad decisions.

You had to fight tooth and nail to get through the first week (hell week, objectively the worst time in any hospitality job) without any power or warm water in your apartment after missing the payment deadline. Sukuna noticed—not like it was hard to, given that you looked like shit fresh into your employment—and slid you an early paycheck tucked inside an envelope on lunch break. A week's worth of dailies in an employment contract that only guarantees monthly wages.

You could cry.

(You did. In front of him.)

(He looked so distraught he almost snatched it back.)

"You're good, honest. Smart yet a little stupid, but even that's necessary to get by in the business. Like I said you have potential and I want you in my kitchen when you see it through."

"I think," you start.

Sukuna gives you a sly smile, mumbling a barely audible “Is that so” with his eyes narrowed down to slits.

"—You're only doing this out of spite. Stealing Gojo's staff is dirty work."

"Started that sentence on the wrong foot. You think I’d sabotage my own shit just to get back at that fraud? Most of the guys he's got back there working for him don't even know how to grill chicken without fucking up."

Yes. Yes, you do believe he’d do that, but opt to keep the thought to yourself. You’re sure Sukuna would kill the guy if he were guaranteed to get away with it. Gojo is an angel investor in name and nothing else.

"I'll give you a week, no more no less. Sit on it, let it marinade in that little head of yours and have your answer ready by morning shift." He pushes off the railing to take his leave. Halfway up the steps he backtracks to reach you, snatches the cigarette out of your fingers and takes a long drag, draining the leftover tobacco inside the poorly rolled paper. After he's done, he licks his lips and kisses his front teeth to taste your saliva, humming in satisfaction.

Kicking away the crate, you get up on baby fawn legs, half numb from being folded over yourself for so long. They tremble, a blink and you’ll miss it movement. Sukuna’s limp hand twitches by his side.

He’s about to leave for good when you speak again, moving towards him.

"You never answered my question.”

What's your vice?

Sukuna stumps your cigarette on the brick wall next to your head. His words are low, barely audible over the commotion slipping through the open door.

"Be good and I might just show you in practice."

[toomuchracket]

secret admirer (dad!ross x reader fluff)

day 1 of valentine's week by bff @abiiors!! in this one... the kids want to know how you and ross got together. cute as shit. enjoy <3

it's at dinnertime when you're first asked the question. 

ross is quietly coaxing keir to finish his peas, to minimal success. eilidh swallows a mouthful of gravy-soaked mash and turns to look at you curiously. “mummy… how did you and dad meet?”

“you already know, bean,” you take a sip of your wine and smile at her. “met dad and your uncles when i helped design the stage for one of their first shows.”

ross takes a break from lecturing your son about the merits of eating your five-a-day to look at you and wink. there's a warmth in those dark eyes of his - the same one that got you hooked on him in the first place, actually - and you know he's thinking about that fateful first meeting too. “yeah, when i had to save mum, eilidh,” he chuckles. “from matty talking about his vision at a hundred miles an hour. her eyes were proper glazed over and everything, you know.”

“they still go like that when he talks to you now sometimes, mummy,” keir adds, still pushing peas around his plate. his dad and sister laugh, while your jaw falls open at the fact you've been clocked by your four year old.

he's not wrong, though.

eilidh's giggles fade into soft hums. “but how did you end up being boyfriend and girlfriend?”

ross’s eyes meet yours again. he smirks, taking a sip of his own wine. “d'you want to tell the story, love?” he asks, foot sliding up your leg under the table, flirty. “or shall i tell them how i swept you off your feet?”

“oh, is that what it was?” you tease, trapping his leg between your own.

“of course.”

you laugh. “you and i remember it differently, then. but alright,” you stretch, shuffling in your seat before looking at your kids’ anticipated little faces. “here's what happened…”

2013

“should we do something different for valentine's day?”

you turn to look incredulously at matty, exhaling your cigarette smoke. “is further context required there, or are you asking me out? because absolutely not, if so.”

“oh, charming. thank god i see you as a little sister and no more,” matty winces, taking a drag of his own cigarette before he speaks again. “i mean for the show on the 14th. we could do, like, pink lighting instead of white, or something.”

you hum. “i don't hate the idea. but i think sticking with the black and white thing is maybe a good idea for now. cohesion, recognition, establishing identity as you gear up to release the album, all that jazz, yeah?”

“good point.”

“i do like the pink, though. maybe we could do something with it in the future?”

“yeah. i'll keep it in mind. usual staging it is, then,” matty turns to face you, resting a shoulder on the brick wall. “so, given that you've theoretically rejected me…

you roll your eyes.

“... who are you seeing on valentine's day?”

“nobody. we've got a gig, remember?” you ash your cigarette glumly. “i'll be selling t-shirts with your face on them up the back of the venue all night.”

“and i love you - platonically - for that,” your friend grins. “but what about after the show?”

“after?”

“yeah.”

you ponder. “probably just going home to shower off the residual weed smell i'll inevitably take on, to be honest.”

matty laughs; his face drops when he realises you're not kidding. “oh. you're serious.”

“mhmm.”

“but,” he looks baffled. “you're twenty-three. you're cute, objectively. you're sweet. you're fun. there's really nobody you want to spend valentine's day with?”

well… your lips part of their own accord as if to speak; you quickly snap them shut before you make a sound. no. you can't tell anyone. especially matty, of all people.

apparently, though, you don't close your mouth fast enough - your friend notices, and giggles, eyes lighting up. “who is he? go on, tell me. promise i won't tell anyone, honest.”

“not a chance.”

“pleeeeeeeeeease?”

“no, matthew,” you take a final drag of your cigarette before stamping it out. “i'm never telling anyone, because it'll never go anywhere between me and him anyway, and thus i am perfectly fine just letting the crush i have fade without acting on it. i'll develop another one soon, anyway.”

no you won't. you've never fancied someone as much in your life as you fancy…

“there you are. was wondering where you'd gotten to, matty,” ross wanders round the side of the building, relief evident on his face. it seems to light up when he sees you, but that's most likely your brain playing tricks on you. “oh. hiya, love. didn't know you were in today, s'nice to see you.”

love?!

shut up. it's ross. he calls everyone that, dipshit.

you clear your throat. “hi, ross. s'nice to see you too. you look… well.”

you pray neither of the boys noticed the awkward pause while you came up with an alternative for “devastatingly attractive”, or that your voice didn't sound as small and squeaky as it sounded to you.

thankfully, neither of them mention it. ross just smiles, and all you can do is focus on not squealing at how cute his dimples are. “thanks. you look good. hair's nice like that.”

“oh,” you self-consciously touch the ponytail you hastily shoved your hat-messy hair into earlier. “thank you.”

he smiles again. “so, what are you gonna develop another of? were you talking about work?”

you say “yes” at the same time the gobshite next to you says “yeah, but then we moved onto talking about how she has no valentine's day plans but she also won't tell whoever she has a crush on that she wants to shag them because she thinks it’s unrequited.”

for fuck's sake.

sighing, you facepalm. ross blinks. “fair enough.”

“you don't think she should tell him?” matty looks aghast.

“what i think is that you should stop pestering her about it,” ross looks pointedly at matty, then turns to you. “but - and i don't want to overstep the mark here, love…”

“no, no, it's fine.”

“... you’ll never get what you really want unless you ask for it,” he finishes, a pleasant smile on his face. “what have you got to lose by doing so, anyway?”

this. our friendship. potentially my job, if i fuck it up enough.

“yeah, i suppose,” you murmur hesitantly. “i'll consider it.”

and you do - in fact, you're still considering it when you next see ross, during setup for the gig on the big day itself. he appears when you're pushing the box light into position on the tiny stage, quickly laying down his bass to run and help you, despite your protests that you've got everything under control.

seeing his arms flex as he works, though, and the way the stark white light somehow manages to warm up those dark eyes? you most definitely do not. still, you refuse to say anything to him then. or before the show, when he automatically passes you a beer so you can be included in the pre-gig cheers. or afterwards, when he risks being pounced upon by drunken fans just so he can help you pack up the merch stall, cracking jokes despite his tiredness.

it's only when you're loading the boxes of t-shirts into adam's car that you actually start to think that mentioning the crush to ross might not be a bad thing. you close the boot with a weary sigh, turning to face ross and high-five him - like you always do - with gratitude. and then he does something… strange.

he hugs you.

it's not a long hug, and definitely one of the “thanks, mate” variety, but still. it's not a common thing to happen between the two of you, ross’s arms wrapping around your shoulders and your waist and pulling you into his chest. it's warm. cosy. safe. and as soon as he lets go, you miss him.

before you get a chance to dwell on that, though, he speaks. “you coming to the pub with us now?”

“us?” your brow furrows. “who's us?”

“everyone except adam and waughy,” ross grins. “you're not the only one with no valentine's plans, love,” his face contorts into panic. “wait, fuck, i just assumed, because you said last week-”

“ross, relax, babe,” you smile, beating yourself up internally for the way the pet name just slipped out; you blame the joy that fizzed up in your stomach when he essentially admitted he's single. “i'm coming to the pub.”

he smiles again, relief evident in his eyes. “alright. good. i think we'll have a good night.”

you do, actually, despite matty monologuing the whole walk there about “you should just phone that guy you like and tell him. for the love of god, at least one of us needs to pull tonight. s'depressing if we don't”. it's actually george who manages that first, disappearing after the first round with a redhead and returning, lipstick-stained and gleefully dazed, half an hour later. matty's next, chatting up girls at the bar and collecting phone numbers by the handful, pointing out vaguely handsome men to you with “yes? no? maybe?” to no avail.

ross doesn't pull at all.

not for lack of trying from the female clientele in the pub, though - every time he leaves the table, you watch heads turn in his direction, and some bodies following. envy tinges your vision green whenever a girl approaches him, but you needn't worry; no matter how pretty or persistent or personable the girls are, ross politely chats as he waits for the drinks, bids them goodbye, and comes back to you. well, to the table. where he sits next to you.

it makes you feel good. so good, in fact, that you decide to tell him how you feel, right then and there. you take another sip of your wine - dutch courage and all - and rest your elbow on the table and your head on your hand, facing ross. “i'm glad i came out tonight.”

“so am i,” he mirrors your pose, smiling. god, you love his dimples. “it's been a good night.”

“yeah. not a bad valentine's day at all.”

ross giggles. “as good as it gets for singles,” he takes a sip of his pint, then looks at you a bit more seriously. “you spoken to that guy yet? the one you like?”

you bite down a giggle, shaking your head. “d'you think i should? ask him out?”

“if you really like him, yeah.”

“but,” you look down at the table, absentmindedly running your index finger round the rim of your glass. “what if he doesn't like me?”

“why wouldn't he?” ross's voice is soft - so are his eyes, you look up to discover. “you're great.”

“really?”

he nods. “really great.”

your heart glows. your face does the same. “thank you, ross.”

he shrugs. “i'm just telling the truth, love. now,” he grins, tapping your phone. “ask him.”

bless him. 

you exhale, smiling. “alright,” you turn round to compose yourself, then look back at ross with a smile. “would you like to go for dinner with me?”

for a second, you falter as ross's brow furrows. “what, now? like a kebab- oh,” his jaw drops, and he blinks a few times. “really? it's me that you have a crush on?”

“yeah,” you bite the inside of your cheek, nervous. “is that… really bad?”

“hmm? no, no, not at all! just surprising, s'all,” ross takes your free hand in his own. he looks dazed, but he's genuinely smiling. “i had no idea you liked me like that.”

“and here i was thinking i was doing a shit job at hiding it.”

ross laughs, softly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb; warmth erupts under your skin wherever he touches. he looks at you, so tenderly you want to look away. “yes.”

your turn to be confused. “yes i was doing a shit job at hiding my crush on you? or…?”

“no, love,” ross chuckles, squeezing your hand. “yes, i'd love to go for dinner with you. tomorrow too soon?”

you feel weightless, joyous, positively giddy. but you have to stay cool, so you simply beam at him. “tomorrow's perfect.”

present day

“...so, we went for dinner - pasta, before you ask, keir - and that was it. dad said he wanted to be my boyfriend before we'd even gotten to the tiramisu,” you smile at the memory. “and then we were like that for a while, and then we got married, and then we had you two. and now, here we are.”

“that's it?” keir frowns at you, then looks up at his dad. “but you said you swept mum off her feet.”

ross snorts, ruffling his son's hair. “yeah, not literally, keeks. i just meant that she was very impressed by me.”

“i don't get it.”

“well, ask matty to explain metaphors to you when you next see him, then.”

you wince (ross laughs at that), turning to your daughter, preoccupied with petting ash the cat, who climbed onto her lap halfway through your talk. “thoughts, eils?”

“hmm,” she makes a face. “it's not a very exciting story, mum.”

“cute, though, no?”

“kind of, i guess.”

“wow, you two are hard to impress,” you sigh, turning to ross and smiling despite your kids’ boredom. “worked out well for us, though, didn't it?”

“absolutely, love. couldn't have worked out any better,” ross leans over the table to kiss you; you return it with relish.

“ewwwwwwww! gross!”

“dad, please don’t do that to mum in front of me ever again.”