#“let's replace it with something we had all along”

[verstappenverse]

Always Almost Yours

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: He was your best friend. The boy you grew up with. The boy you loved in silence. Now that his relationship is over and he finally sees you, really sees you, you’re already halfway out the door. (Requested)

2.7k words / Masterlist

He never looked at you the way you looked at him.

That was the cruelest part.

Max was your best friend.

Not just in the way people say that when they mean we talk often and like the same music. Max was the scraped-knees-and-late-night-phone-calls kind of best friend. The first person to teach you how to throw a punch and the first to teach you how to lie to your parents without getting caught. The boy who once held your hand under the covers during a thunderstorm when you were both eleven and too proud to admit you were scared.

He was the one who always came back to you, even after the worst races. The one who let you see the parts of him no one else ever would, sharp and soft, boy and man, storm and shelter all at once.

And still, somehow, never yours.

You were the one in the passenger seat. The one who knew when to leave him alone after a bad quali, when to pull him close and whisper “you’ll get ’em tomorrow.” The one who stood in his corner for so long you stopped realising you were still hoping he’d turn around and see you.

You were always there. Until suddenly he didn’t need you anymore. Not when she came along.

Beautiful, confident, glossy-haired and golden-skinned, and you told yourself it was fine. Of course you did. You smiled when he brought her to your birthday party, even when he forgot to tell you he was bringing someone. Even when she kissed his cheek in the middle of your kitchen like it was nothing.

You laughed with everyone else, poured drinks, unwrapped gifts, made small talk with drivers and engineers. But you spent half the night locked in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub, blinking up at the ceiling as your reflection blurred behind tears you refused to let fall.

You didn’t want to hate her. She hadn’t done anything wrong except exist in all the ways you weren’t allowed to, with your hand in his, your head on his shoulder, your future mapped beside his.

Still some part of you couldn’t help but ask: What does she have that I don’t?

What did she say that made him lean in a little closer? What laugh of hers replaced the space you used to fill?

And most of all: What would it feel like to be looked at by him the way he looks at her?

Because he never looked at you like that. Not in all the years you’d known him. Not when you were seventeen and he called you at three in the morning because he couldn't sleep in Bahrain and you talked until sunrise. Not when you showed up at the track the day he won his first Grand Prix, teary-eyed and breathless, and he ran into your arms like he hadn’t seen you in years.

Close enough to know every version of him. Every scar, every secret, every softness he never let the world see.

But never close enough to keep.

Still you loved him, because loving Max wasn’t something you decided.

It had always been that way.

Always almost his.

Never quite.

You didn’t mean to fall out of love with him. And truthfully, you aren’t sure you actually have, not entirely, not in the way people mean when they say they’ve moved on. The feelings are still there, somewhere beneath the surface, lingering in the hollow parts of your chest that still expect him to show up, but the edges of it have dulled. Worn down not by time, but by the slow, painful realisation that loving him wasn’t going to be enough to make him love you back.

Somewhere between the unanswered texts, the forgotten plans, the way he spoke about her, something inside you began to quietly fracture. Not all at once, and not with any grand moment of clarity. A hundred little moments where you chose not to say what you were thinking, not to reach for him the way you used to. Because what was the point?

You started packing your things about two months ago. Not in any physical sense, your life still looked the same on the outside, still orbiting his in all the ways it always had, but emotionally you’d begun the process of leaving, like someone backing out of a room without turning on the lights.

You removed his contact from the pinned position at the top of your phone, so the ache wouldn’t hit so hard when he didn’t reply how you had hoped. You stopped buying his favourite ice cream at the store, the kind he used to steal from your freezer late at night, grinning like a teenager. You stopped screenshotting tweets or saving videos you thought he’d laugh at. And eventually you stopped wondering whether he’d noticed any of it.

You weren’t angry… just tired, in that deep, soul-heavy way that comes from wanting something for so long and slowly realising it was never meant to be yours.

Max knew you were in Barcelona this weekend, still he hadn’t expected to see you tonight.

The party was an afterthought. He hadn’t planned to stay long. He’d barely touched his drink when he walked in, just enough to be polite, to show face.

It had been a couple of weeks since the breakup.

It hadn’t been sudden, not really. The end had been coming for a while slow and quiet, a withering sort of feeling that didn’t crack so much as fade. She’d grown distant and he’d let her. He’d grown restless, and she hadn’t tried to stop him. They’d gone through the motions, races, events, photo ops, dinners where the silence spoke louder than anything either of them said.

The fights when they came were never loud, just flat, low-voiced disagreements that ended with someone walking out and no one following.

She’d asked him, finally, if there was someone else.

And he’d hesitated.

Not because there was. Not in the way she meant. He hadn’t cheated, not physically. But there was a pause in his answer, long enough that they both felt it settle into the space between them like a bruise.

She knew before he did. She knew the name he didn’t say.

He hadn’t spoken to you since. Hadn’t known how to… maybe he still doesn’t.

It isn’t until tonight, standing across the room with a drink in his hand and a weight in his chest, that he feels the full weight of what he’s done. What he’s missed.

You’re laughing, your head tipped back, hand resting on the arm of a chair, body turned toward someone else in a way that makes Max feel like he’s watching a different life you stepped into without him.

You look good. Effortlessly beautiful in that way you never tried to be, eyes warm, smile wide, you just are, and somehow that’s more magnetic than anything he’s ever known.

And fuck, he feels it now. All of it.

The way his eyes search for you in every room. The way his day feels off when he hasn’t heard your voice. The dull ache he carries when he sees something funny and instinctively reaches for his phone, only to stop, unsure if you’d even want to hear from him anymore.

It hits him with a clarity that makes his breath stop, and he misses you in every way a person can be missed.

You glance up. Spot him.

For a second your smile falters. A flicker of something in your eyes before you school your expression into something smooth and indifferent. It’s a tiny crack, so small no one else would notice, but it splits him open.

He starts to move before he can think better of it. Cuts across the floor, his hand tightening around the glass in his palm, trying to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to say after months of silence. After choosing someone else. After pretending like he hadn’t known what he was doing when he left you in the shadows.

But you’re already turning. Already slipping out the side door with your phone pressed to your ear, and your smile stitched back into place.

He stops and stands there, stupidly, watching the door swing closed behind you, knowing that for the first time in all the years he’s known you, he’s the one who missed his moment.

You didn’t expect him to follow you out of the party.

So you went back to your hotel alone, slipped out of your dress, washed off your makeup, and packed the last of your things.

Now you’re sitting on the edge of your hotel bed, suitcase zipped, passport tucked into your carry-on, and your ride to the airport fifteen minutes away when there's a knock at the door.

You don’t have to ask to know it’s him, and despite everything telling you not to you let him in.

“You’re leaving?”

It used to be so easy with him.

Movie nights sprawled on his couch, bickering over snack choices like an old married couple. Late drives with the windows down and music turned up too loud, him tapping the steering wheel and glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he’d toss his arm around your shoulder without thinking twice, not noticing how your breath always caught for a second too long. Or how he’d call you liefje by accident sometimes and then pretend it didn’t mean anything.

You let it slide.

You always let it slide.

Because you were scared of the answer if you ever asked what you were to him.

And now he’s the one asking you why you’re leaving?

You don’t look up. Not at first. You focus on the zipper, on the way your hands tremble slightly as you fix the handle of your suitcase into place.

“Yeah,” you say after a moment, voice flat, too carefully even.

He shifts, like the floor’s been pulled slightly off balance beneath him. “Tonight? You didn’t tell me.”

You let out a soft, humourless breath. “We haven’t exactly been updating each other lately have we?”

He flinches, just barely. “Still… I thought I’d see you before you left.”

“I was at the party,” you say. “You saw me

“No, I thought—” He cuts himself off, brows pulling together. “You didn’t say goodbye.”

You finally lift your head to look him properly in the eyes.

He’s standing just inside the doorway, his eyes are tired, his expression cracked open in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” you say quietly.

Maybe that’s the cruelest thing you’ve ever said to him, because it does matter. Of course it does. It shows in the way his shoulders tense and his hands curl into fists at his sides like he’s trying to stop himself from shaking.

“That’s not fair.”

You pick up your bag, ignoring the weight of the silence between you, and step toward the door.

“I didn’t know,” he says, voice low, like he’s ashamed of it now.

You don’t look at him. “Didn’t know what?”

He hesitates, and when you finally glance up, he’s looking at you like the truth is a sharp thing he’s only just worked up the courage to hold.

“That you loved me.”

Your fingers slip slightly from the handle of your bag. “What…?”

“I never said that,” you manage, your voice catching on the edges.

“You didn’t have to.” His eyes are steady now, searching. “It was always there I should’ve seen it,” he says. “Should’ve seen you.”

You shake your head, “I guess you were too busy loving someone else.”

He looks gutted.

You wish, God, you wish that it didn’t still matter. That it didn’t still sting.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says.

“You didn’t even know you were Max. That’s the whole point.”

The room feels too quiet. Too small. Your heartbeat too loud.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” you continue, voice shaking now, “to love someone for years and never be seen. To be right there always and still not be enough.”

Max stares at you like you’ve told him the world is ending.

“I see you now,” he says, and it’s not slick or smooth, it’s wrecked and raw.

You swallow. “You’re only saying that because I’m walking away.”

“No.” He steps forward, desperate now. “No, I’m saying it because you’re the only thing that’s ever felt like home and I’m an idiot for not realising it sooner.”

Your throat tightens, and you hate how much it still hurts. How much of you still wants to believe him. Still wants to stay.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve never said them before.”

“Because I didn’t know,” he says, the words sharp and uneven. “I didn’t know what it meant, all those times I looked for you first. Or why I couldn’t sleep unless I heard your voice. I didn’t get it until now, and I know that’s my fault, but please—”

You shake your head, eyes stinging. “You did know. Somewhere in there, you did. You just didn’t want it. Not back then.”

He exhales, broken. “I thought you’d always be there.”

“I was,” you whisper.

You don’t stop him when he reaches for you this time. When his hand brushes yours, and for the first time in what feels like years, you let yourself feel the gravity of him.

He’s looking at you now like the sun has just split through storm clouds. Like he’s seeing you clearly for the very first time.

But it’s not enough anymore.

You step back, voice soft but steady. “I spent years being almost yours Max. I can’t do that again.”

“I broke up with her.”

“I know,” you say, and your heart shatters a little more for it. “But it doesn’t change what it felt like to stand beside you all that time and never be chosen.”

“It changes everything.”

“Not for me.”

He opens his mouth, searching, maybe, for some last piece of you to hold onto, but nothing comes. Just the rise and fall of his chest and the silence that says too much.

So you keep going. You have to.

“You don’t want me. You just don’t want to lose me.”

“That’s not true,” he says quickly.

“Isn’t it?”

He looks at you like you’ve just gutted him with a lie.

“Please,” he says, voice hoarse and breaking.

If he’d said this even just a few months ago…

But now?

Now it just splits you open.

He walks you down to the lobby anyway.

The car pulls up. You reach for the handle, and of course he stops you. Fingers curl around your wrist, and it’s the first time in your entire friendship he looks terrified to let go.

“Stay,” he says, rough and low and entirely unlike him. “Just… stay. Let me prove I mean it.”

You look down at his hand and you want to. More than anything, you want to, but you shake your head.

“So that’s it?” he asks. “You’re just going to walk away?”

“I have to,” you whisper, voice already trembling. “Because if I don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life being the girl who waited around for you to love her back.”

Max looks at you like his entire world is falling apart.

You lean in, press the softest kiss to his cheek, and then you step into the car and close the door before you can change your mind.

He texts you later that night.

Just one message.

I’m not letting us end like that.

You see it the moment it comes through. The screen lights up on the nightstand beside your bed, a soft glow in the dim room. The kind of light that feels too hopeful. Too late.

You lock the screen and place the phone face-down on the nightstand. The room falls quiet again, heavy with all the words you don’t say.

You read the words again, and again, because it’s not a grand gesture. It’s not an apology wrapped in flowers or fireworks.

It’s simple... but for once he didn’t wait too long.

You place the phone gently back on the nightstand, but something in your chest has started to shift. To warm. To hope

You don’t reply, not right away, because maybe if he really means it…

He’ll come find you.

And he’ll show you you were never just almost.

Taglist: @shigarika @bunnisplayground @thecoolpotatohologram @ymrereads @alexxavicry @gigglepre @esw1012 @satorinnie @percysaidnever @osclerc @sainzluvrr @autumn242 @shadowreader07 @joyfulpandamiracle @inmynotes63 @athanasia-day @embonbon @waterdeeply @shadowsoundeffects13 @fastandcurious16 @odegaardlia @skzvibes-blog @iambored24601 @e10owmaks @painfromblues @leto-twins-3107 @rxx-eegh @lewishamiltonismybf @mara1999 @armystay89 @ramonaflwsr @zazima @mischiefmxnxgedhp @yoonessa @wordskeeper @freyathehuntress @brumstappen @irenkaproszepana @butterkaput @blueskies4everxo @teamnovalak @taylordaughter @taetae-armyyyyy @kitty-m30w

[deansposessive]

THEY THINK YOU'RE A MONSTER...PROVE THEM RIGHT

dean winchester × scarlet witch!reader angst

the motel room was suffocatingly silent, only the hum of the old fan filling the space as dean stood before you, his face a mix of anger and desperation.

"damn it, sweetheart i won’t let you shut me out again!" he growled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "you can't just run every time things get tough between us! you can’t just disappear into radio silence because you got scared!"

you turned away, your shoulders tensing, fingers curling into fists. something burned in your chest—something painful—but you couldn’t let dean see it.

"what do you want, huh?" you shot back coldly. "for me to collapse into your arms and cry against your chest? to admit how much it hurts? i won’t change what we are. not anymore. i don’t give a damn!"

dean’s expression darkened.

"that’s not what i meant."

"but i do." you cut him off. your eyes were full of fire, but voice trembled. "i’d rather lean on űsam than on you."

the silence that followed was so abrupt, it was as if a wall had collapsed between you.

dean’s body tensed as if you had struck him.

"you…" he started, but his voice failed him.

you straightened your posture, your words laced with cruel satisfaction.

"i hate you. with all my heart."

dean’s lips parted slightly.

then everything fell silent.

for a fleeting second, it was as if the world had ceased to exist.

dean wasn’t a stranger to hatred. he had heard that word from demons, from the victims of ghosts, from hunters who saw him as just another monster. but from you?

something inside his chest shattered. he felt the bitter pain spreading beneath his skin. it was worse than any stab he had received in his 26 years. it was as if the feeling was causing the blood to spread in his chest cavity and he was slowly drowning because of his own mistakes.

"do you really hate me that much?" he asked, his voice hoarse, barely a whisper.

your eyes met his.

"yes," you said. "i really do."

for a moment, he seemed like he might break. then something shifted within him. pain was replaced by something familiar—anger, the kind that always simmered beneath his skin.

"fine," he muttered, his voice hardened. "if that’s how you feel, then i’ll go. i hope you’re fucking happy with sam. have a great sappy therapy session with him."

he turned away, but not before throwing one last, cutting remark over his shoulder.

"and if you’re waiting for me to say that i hate you too… you’ll be waiting a damn long time."

the words were already on your lips.

"i was hoping you’d say something nasty to me instead."

slowly, menacingly, he turned back around. his voice was deep, dark, venom-laced and every word rang like a warning.

"oh, so you want to play? fine. let's play."

In one stride, he closed the distance between you and towered over you, his green eyes blazing with fury.

"you wanna hear how I'd really hurt you? then here you go—here’s the fucking list." he leaned in, his face just inches from yours, and his voice turned even harsher.

"first of all, i could remind you how many times i pulled you out of hell—literally and figuratively. how many times i stood between you and death just to keep you safe."

His eyes flashed darkly as he moved even closer.

"but of course, that doesn’t mean shit to you, does it?" his words were sharp and burning, but you didn’t flinch. you just stood there, staring him down.

dean let out a cold, mocking laugh.

"and then there's what i’ve seen you do. i’ve seen you destroy. i’ve seen you kill. i’ve watched you tear things apart with your damn magic like you're some kind of fucking tornado. remember ohio? when you burned that warehouse to the ground? i still have the goddamn burn scars."

he held out his arm, running a hand along the faint scars on his forearm. then his voice softened.

"but i guess even those don’t matter, huh?"

your heart was pounding, but your face stayed expressionless. then you shrugged.

"maybe i’m just another monster you should’ve put down."

dean’s face twisted in anger. "don’t you dare say that."

but you kept going.

"i was born a witch, dean. into a family of hunters who think people like me don’t deserve to live. and i’m not just any witch."

you stepped toward him, your gaze hard.

"the scarlet witch prophecy is about me."

dean’s eyes narrowed. "the what?"

you sighed.

"an ancient hunter prophecy. they teach it even at grimm academy. a witch whose blood is both hunter and mage, and who will eventually..." you hesitated for a beat."…destroy everything."

dean’s hand clenched into a fist. "that’s bullshit."

"maybe i really am just a monster," you whispered. "a damned witch."

dean’s face twisted with something close to pain.

"don’t you dare say that about yourself," he growled, voice thick with emotion. "you’re not—"

but you weren’t listening anymore. your hand trembled as you pulled out a gun and pressed it into his palm.

"this is a witch-killing bullet," you said quietly. "i don’t know if it’s strong enough, but it’s worth a shot."

dean stared at you, wide-eyed. he nearly dropped the gun.

"what the hell are you doing?" he asked hoarsely. "this isn’t funny."

"it’s not a joke. c'mon, do yourself a favor." your hand lifted, and a moment later, dean’s fingers clenched around the gun—but it wasn’t his doing.

the weapon slowly rose to your forehead. his fingers still gripped the handle, the barrel pressing coldly against your skin. his eyes were wild with rage and despair, his face twisted with pure terror.

"for fuck’s sake! don’t do this to me! don’t make me do this!"

but your voice was ice—cold, merciless.

"if you really think i’m a monster, why not end it? you’re a hunter, aren’t you? this is what you do. and you've said countless times that you love killing these filthy freaks. don't lie to yourself, winchester."

dean’s teeth clenched, his muscles locked, but he couldn’t move his trigger finger. his hands trembled—not just from the magic—but from fear.

"goddamn it… are you trying to kill me too?!"

your body shook with rage, but there was something deeper—something raw and buried in your eyes.

"do you know the difference between us, dean?" your voice trembled—not with tears, but with fury, with something too tense to contain. "you think I’m your victim. but i never was. and i never will be."

the magic ruthlessly forced Dean’s fingers onto the trigger. the barrel pressed against your forehead, cold, unyielding.

dean was trembling, fighting with everything he had. his eyes glistened with unshed tears, his face twisted with horror.

"don't you dare to do this. don't you fuckin' dare..." tears burned in his eyes as he desperately tried to resist—but his hands wouldn’t obey.

the trigger slowly pulled back.

"say goodbye, dean."

the gunshot shattered the motel room’s silence.

suddenly, your magic released the gun, and it clattered to the floor. the sound was deafening in the suffocating silence.

dean’s body lunged forward, and as you fell backward, he immediately reached for you—but he was too late. blood stained the bedspread, the walls, and your motionless body lay on the floor. dean collapsed to his knees beside you, panting, in disbelief. his hands were drenched in blood as he pulled your head into his lap.

“fuck… no, no, no, no!” his voice was broken, his fingers gently tracing your face as if his touch could bring you back to life. his chest heaved with sobs, the gun clattered loudly to the floor, and his fingers clung to you in desperation.

“please… don’t leave me… please…” his tears mixed with your blood, his face contorted with pain. fingers ran through your hair, as if that could somehow turn back time.

the motel room suddenly fell into silence.

and then…

“well… if that was convincing enough, can you finally get the hell out of this room?”

the voice came from behind him.

dean’s body tensed. he didn’t move for a second, his breathing uneven. slowly, cautiously, as if he feared his own mind was playing some cruel trick on him, he turned around.

and there you stood. alive.

your eyes gleamed darkly, your expression was blank, and your arms were crossed over your chest.

dean stared at you, gasping, then back down at the body he was holding—only for it to dissipate like smoke in the blink of an eye, vanishing from his arms as if it had never existed.

there was no blood on the floor. nothing at all—just a broken hunter who now stared at you as though he had just been ripped from a living nightmare.

your gaze bore into his, cold and unwavering. “illusion.”

dean’s breath hitched. his hands clenched into fists.

“fucking… god… damn it!” his voice shook with rage, pain, and shock. “you… you scared the shit out of me!" he took a step forward, his hand trembling as if he couldn’t decide whether to punch the wall or pull you into him. "you just...you just manipulated me like that? i thought you were dead, i thought—"

“because that’s what you were supposed to think.” your voice remained icy. “do you see now, dean? do you understand?”

his words died in his throat. his eyes burned with fury—but there was something else there. something deeper.

“you can’t save me.”

dean’s chest rose and fell erratically. his fists clenched tighter. “the hell i can’t.”

but you only shook your head with a bitter smile.

“you think this is a game, dean? you think what you see in me is just a struggling hunter who can still be pulled back? no. do you know what i am?”

dean said nothing. his eyes were still glassy with unshed tears, his jaw clenched tight.

“i am the one the grimms wrote stories about centuries ago. my family documented the monsters, hunted them… and i became the very thing they feared. A grimm with a monster inside. a prophecy every hunter ignored.”

dean’s face darkened. “and yet… you’re still the one squeezing my heart, honey.”

your words caught in your throat. for a second, just one fleeting second… something wavered in you. but then, that dark smile crept back onto your lips.

“then maybe it’s time you let go.”

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thank you if you support me with a like/comment/reblog or a follow. sorry for the grammatical mistakes, english is not my first language<3

[ecrooked24]

Salt in the Wound Chapter 1

They stumbled through the halls of Namsan Tower, Zoey leading the way. The rumbling had distilled down into a steady background noise, often covered up by their panting breaths and soft, giddy laughter. But as they stopped in a small room, everything went quiet. 

Rumi’s smile had faded away until the wall returned. She refused to meet their eyes. Zoey opened her mouth wanting to apologize, ask questions, cry, all of the above–but nothing came out. Glancing at Mira, her mouth hung open, just as stuck. What do we say? How do we start?

But they didn’t need to.

“Mira… Zoey,” Rumi said, “I’m s–”

The thrumming built again, thunderous and growing without any of the rush of emotion. The ground started to shake beneath their feet. Bracing against each other, they held tight until, after a few seconds, everything went still again. 

“What was that?” Zoey asked. She let her eyes beg for an answer or a reassurance. Looking at Rumi then Mira then–Rumi slipped from her view and her hands. 

Zoey screamed.

“Rumi!” Mira cried out, just managing to keep a hold of Rumi’s arm as she dangled into the gaping tear in the Honmoon that had opened beneath her feet. The strain of Rumi’s weight brought Mira to her knees and then her stomach. Both of her hands wrapped around one of Rumi’s. 

Zoey dropped to her knees, scrambling along the edge. “Grab for my hand!” 

Rumi reached. Their fingers met and slipped, too sweaty the first couple tried before they finally caught hold. 

This was not how she envisioned holding Rumi’s hand tonight. 

The time spent trying took a toll on Mira, and her arms began to shake with exertion. 

“She’s slipping. She’s slipping!” Mira cried. 

“We have to pull her up.” 

They groaned and pulled, an unseen force tugged back. Sucking Rumi down into the looming dark beneath her. The muscles in Zoey’s arms started to burn and tears formed on her eyes. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said–to Rumi, to herself, it didn’t matter.

“We’ve got you. Just hold on,” Mira said beside her. 

Rumi dropped lower, sliding little by little through their fingers.

Zoey’s tears fell, landing on Rumi’s cheek. And Rumi had the gall to smile up at her, the same sad one from before. None of the initial fear remained, all of it replaced by something frighteningly like acceptance. 

“Please,” Mira sobbed, “Hold on.”

Rumi slipped further, only Mira and Zoey’s fingertips keeping a hold of her. 

“No…don’t let go.” Zoey wanted to scream it, she only managed a whisper. 

“I’m sorry,” Rumi said.

She slipped from their hands.

Rumi hung in the air for a moment as time seemed to freeze. Zoey’s heart clenched, as her attention remained locked on those tired eyes and sad smile until, all at once, Rumi fell from view, disappearing into the darkness below. 

Zoey stared down into the tear, still frozen. This couldn’t be real. They just saved everyone. They just got Rumi back. 

The sound of a deep laugh echoed up from beneath. It shook the ground the same way it had before the tear had opened. The familiarity of it made her shiver, snapping her out of her shock. She turned to Mira, whose arms still dangled down into the tear and breaths came in short bursts. Zoey shook her shoulder, and Mira’s eyes immediately snapped to Zoey’s. 

“I tried– I–” She seemed to gulp down some of the panic. “What do we do? We can’t leave her.”

Zoey felt the thrumming pulse of the Honmoon again. Sharp and dynamic instead of the joyous it had been–echoing the pain in Zoey’s own chest. But still it was present. Keeping demons out–nothing emerged from the void beneath them. 

But it couldn’t stop demons from leaving. 

Or them. 

“We can’t leave her,” Zoey said, pointedly looking down into the glowing purple shadows of the tear. 

Mira set her jaw and nodded, reaching for Zoey’s hand. 

Together, they jumped in after Rumi.

Read the 1st and 2nd chapter on ao3!

[digitialwonderland]

Swan lake with the TF 141

Pursuit at Swan Lake

Chapter 3 Previous

Simon’s warmth seemed to follow you through your dreams like a phantom. Foolishly, you chased it past each flashing image of your nightmares. But when you woke, it was nothing but your white feathers that were gathered around you. The fire was at a low simmer, and his scent still seemed to cling to the furs.

He returned the next night, and the next. Always carrying with him the jar of medicine, and always leaving food behind. It took only a few days before you were able to gather enough strength to start moving.

“We’ll start off slow, until you can swim on yer own again.” Simon mumbled as he quickly tossed off his shirt.

He had been planning this out step by step, taking everything with more care than he ever dared to give himself when healing. Truth be told, it broke his heart every time he had to watch his doll go through her transformation. Even in her sleep she let out soft whimpers of pain as feather and beak replaced her skin and lips.

Simon stepped forward, not missing how the swans large eyes seemed to linger on his torso. “We only have about an hour before sunset,” he reminded her as he crouched down and held out his hands. “Let’s make it count, yeah?”

She hesitated for a moment, looking down her beak at his large hands. He could see the gears turning in that head of hers, practically hear them. But after a moment she gave a small huff and then slowly started to stand. “Easy, sweetheart.”

The words fell from his lips far easier than he ever cared to admit. He had almost tried to resist calling her all the endearments, but the sweetness the stung at his cheeks and warmed in his chest was like a hit that he could grow addicted to.

She stood and wobbled for a second. Even in this form, Simon could see the way her eyes narrowed in determination and the way her legs trembled a bit. “Tha’s it, doll.” He held his hands further out, unable to help the hope that blossomed in his chest. “Take it nice ‘n slow.”

In a shuffle, she cautiously made her way to him. She spent every step like she was expecting for the pain to come back to haunt her, Simon would be lying if he didn’t wait on the edge for her to show signs of pain. It was so natural that he barely noticed how ready he was to jump in if she needed him. But his doll was strong, and sure as night she slowly made her way into his arms. “There she is.”

Simon scooped up the swan as delicately as if she were an infant, “you did good, doll.” He held her to his chest, careful to avoid the blackened star of feathering on her plumage. He still found it difficult to look at the mark. Every time he did he felt his eyes snag for a few seconds too long. Guilt always followed, along with the tight squeeze of regret in his heart. But there was something underneath all that, a beast he refused to acknowledge.

He took the first step into the lake, watching as the water rippled out from beneath him. Her eyes flicked back and forth, watching the flock at the other end of the lake. Under different circumstances he would have chuckled about how worried she was for them.

Deeper and deeper he went into the cool water, it wasn’t an awful temperature, the spring heat had offered the lake some time to warm after winter. “There we go,” Simon muttered, more to her than himself as he settled in a spot that was up to his waist. “You ready, doll?”

She looked down at the water, tapping her beak at it as if to disapprove in some way. But then, her sleek, white-feathered head dipped into a nod. “Just swim right back to me when yer ready to be done.” It sounded a little ridiculous, telling a swan to come back when she was done swimming. But then again, she wasn’t a swan.

Slowly, Simon lowered her into the water, letting her get her bearings before fully letting her go. She bobbed for a second, making Simon’s heart nearly turn to stone, but then her feet started to catch a rhythm and she started to move.

In the distance, the flock of swans quacked in an uproar, almost like a choir. She responded in equal, paddling in happily little circles in the water.

Hardened Hunter be damned, Simon couldn’t stop the smile that cracked crookedly over his lips. In any form, it was a delight to see his doll happy. The way her eyes squinted even hinted at a smile. “Tha’s good, love.” He watched her swim around, the golden light of the setting sun passing over her feathers. She didn’t need him one bit, a thought that had panic rising in his chest, even when he pushed it aside.

She swam until the sun had slipped beneath the horizon. Then, with slightly more ease than she had the last couple of times, she transformed. Simon felt his breath escape in a small gasp as he watched her avian body dive beneath the water and transform into her beautiful human form beneath the wavering surface.

God, she was gorgeous. Possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. But he fought hard to shove down the feelings that warmed in his chest because of it.

She surfaced again in front of him, her eyes wide as a little lambs. Quickly, Simon cleared his throat and averted his eyes from what was just beneath the surface. “Let’s get you dry n’ dressed, doll.”

The more Simon visited, the more your body strengthened and the more your burns healed. Yet, you still refused to admit it. The fire flicked in front of you, he had brought a sort of sleeping mat this time, said that ‘a lady ought to have a proper sleeping arrangement.”

Now, the warmth of the fire radiated from the embers in front of you, and his warmth burned behind you. How had you so easily allowed a man to get so close? The very man who had shot you was now beside you, propped up against his pack and whittling. Every night since the first had led to more training, or rehabilitation rather. You could walk, swim, hell your burns had even smooth out to a light pink mark. And yet, Simon still returned every night to spend it with you.

The thought had your cheeks warming and your heart leaping. But you weren’t ready to admit that, you couldn’t admit that. After all, you spent half your life as a bird, who would want to be with someone they only saw at night?

“Simon?”

“Yes, doll?”

You shifted onto your back to look up at him, “where are you from?”

He paused whittling all together, his eyes going distant for a moment. Then, just as suddenly, they flicked down to you and softened. “A land very far from here.”

Well, that was certainly vague. Your brows pinched, and you could feel your frustration with the response gather in the crinkle of your nose. This didn’t seem to have the desired effect though, his eyes only gained this new, tender warmth that seemed to spread across his whole face. Even the parts hidden by the beard and ear length hair he still had yet to maintain. Everything about him just seemed to melt into something endearing.

“My home is a kingdom filled to the brim with spirit,” he murmured, reached down and brushing some of your hair off your forehead. “The people there are kind and hard workers.” He paused, his eyes going distant again. “When winter touched the land, it didn’t dim our smiles. People would dance and sing in celebration.” He chuckled quietly to himself, “every year, on Christmas, you could walk down the street and find every house with there front door open.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because each home was hosting a feast, and each feast was open for anyone to join.” A crooked, handsome smile formed over his lips and his rough fingertips started to swirl mindlessly in your hair. “In the summer, it was perfect. Filled with colorful flowers and parades for the royal family.”

“Your home sounds beautiful…” you breathed, mind deep in the thought of a place so full of life.

“It was.”

“Was?” Your eyes drew back up to see his face, where some of the warmth had drained away.

“‘S not my home anymore, doll.”

Something deep within you saddened, almost like you could feel his hurt, even without context. “Where do you live now?” You asked softly, unable to bridle your curiosity for even a second.

“With a friend.”

Afternoons continued as swimming lessons, or more like “supervised swimming”. And then nights became quiet moments of comfort and warmth. You’d fall asleep beside him and wake with his presence still clinging to your skin.

Waking up without him, started to almost … hurt. Like the contrast between his warmth and the morning chill was only becoming more and more dramatic. But no matter how much it did hurt, you still clung to the moments spent with him. It was like you had nothing else to live for.

Even as you began to join the flock during the day, you found your attention lingering on the tree line. Waiting for that same tall, broad shoulder silhouette that would surely appear that night.

Now was one of those moments that you felt your heart leap at every shift in the shadows. You swam closer to your shared camp on the shore, your eyes flicking between the trees and the horizon.

He’s running late today. The suns about to set.

Something about the uncharacteristic tardiness sent your heart down a path of growing panic. What if something happened? What if Makorov-

No.

You wouldn’t let yourself go there. Surely that evil, cruel man had better fish to fry than you.

Much to your relief, something in the brush finally moved and Simon stepped out, approaching your camp with a perfectly normal appearance and demeanor. It was silly, you never should have even worried. He was Simon, of course he was fine.

You swam to the shore, just in time for the sun to slip out of the skies grasp. You dove into the water as a bird and reappeared as a woman. When you did, Simon was right there at the edge of the water, holding out a towel and politely turning his head away.

“You had me scared there for a moment,” you smiled, still elated with relief as you stepped into the towel and let him wrap the thick cloth around you.

“Would never abandon you, doll.” He reassured, but his eyes took a moment to go to you. They lingered on the woods, darting around as if in search of something.

“Simon?” He finally looked down at you, his jaw set and tensed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, love.” He tried, reaching up and gently resting both hands on your arms.

There was a sharp click from the woods. Someone loading a crossbow. “Nae, Ghost. I beg to differ.”

Both your heads whipped towards the voice, but you only got a glimpse of who stepped out of them before Simon tucked you behind his large frame.

It was a man, a northerner if you had ever heard that accent before. His eyes were nearly as bright a blue as the summer sky, and his hair a dark brown that resembled some of the chocolates you so often found yourself craving. More noticeably, his head was trimmed short on either side, leaving a proud strip of hair down the center. Over his broad shoulders, a wolf fur was draped, but there was nothing beside that to cover his strong chest and abdomen. A kilt was belted around his hips and draped over his thick, muscular thighs, dawning colors of bright blue and deep, rich green. Out of all the details, the only one that mattered was his gaze on you and the crossbow he had fixed right at you and Simon.

“Soap, let me explain.”

Kyle couldn’t help but slouch in his chair as more and more families entered the front door of the thrown room. His capacity for polite greetings had long since expired, even for the princesses that were potentially going to become his fiance in the up coming weeks.

“Might want to sit up before your mother says something.” A familiar, gravely voice said from slightly behind his thrown. Captain John Price of the Royal Guard.

Kyle sat up, but took the brief break in arriving guests to speak to the man. “When you see the young women that have arrived, Captain, what do you think?”

The man stepped forward as to be more visible to the young prince. “Well, my prince, I see great potential. Most of these princesses seem quite accomplished, you have many good options.”

“Yes yes, but what makes them…stand out.” Kyle pressed, resting his chin in his palm. “What makes them any different from women that you have met in the kingdom.”

A keen, intelligent smile curled over Price’s lips. “I think you will find them very different from the women I have met, my prince.”

Kyle couldn’t help but snort, he knew very well of the ladies the Captain and his men spent time with. But he still couldn’t shake the feeling that weighed down on him. “You know what I mean, I-I’m not just looking for a princess, Captain. I want someone who could lead and love the kingdom while at my side.” He glanced over at the king and queen, who were speaking among themselves. “Despite what my parents want.” He tacked on quietly.

The captains eyes warmed and wrinkled at the corners with an expression so soft it was simply unfit for such a hardened warrior. “If you keep that in mind. I don’t doubt that you will be able to find the right one.”

It eased Kyle’s soul to have his support, but still, something within him had felt frantic lately. Night and day he would fidget or find himself unable to sit for too long. “I hope you are right.” He murmured, watching silently as the next royal family stepped through the doors.

Hope you enjoyed it lovelies! Next chapter coming soon!

[all-with-angel]

"Could we get that?"

Summary: In which he says No to you buying something, but it backfires badly (request!)

Including: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna

Content: crack, hurt/comfort, gn!reader

w.c. 500ish each || Masterlist || MDNI.

“Could we get that?”

He followed your gaze, eyes skimming the display before flicking back to you. And then he did something you should've expected.

He shrugged. “Nah.”

Your heart stuttered. “Oh,” you said, blinking once. “Okay. Sorry.” You dropped his hand before continuing to walk forward, not once looking back at display or him, for that matter, as both guilt and shame built up in your chest.

❥ SATORU GOJO

The moment he realized you were actually upset over it, he felt his heart drop out of his ass. He stood there, dumbfounded as he stared at your retreating figure that slumped slightly forward. The sight reminded him of something that he swore would never let happen again- No, he won’t get left behind again.

He raced over to your side. “No, wait- baby, wait, heyheyheyyyy-” His voice pitched up, breathless and rushed. “It was a joke! A prank! I was kidding! Of course we can get it, are you kidding me? You want the whole shelf? I’ll buy the whole store if you want it!”

His heart went wild. His hands fumbled for yours again, touch feather-light like he was afraid you’d pull away for good. He cranked the dramatics to eleven. If he had to dig himself out of this hole with the fluffiest, most excessive display of affection in human history, then so be it.

He spun you towards him, before literally dropping to his knees. In the middle of the mall, in broad daylight, by the way.

“I have made a terrible mistake,” he cried, throwing his arms around your waist and pressing his face into your stomach and sobbing like a man who had just lost everything. “I’M SORRYYYY- PLEASE forgive me. I was blinded by hubris. My arrogance has cost me the love of my life.”

He cried dramatically, much to your horror. You smacked him, panic and embarrassment replacing the insecurity in your chest.

It didn’t stop him though, he continued whining and apologizing- Promising to buy you the entire mall and then some more, which terrified you, because he could. At some point, you just tried walking off in an attempt to get him off of you. It failed, and backfired. Because as you attempted to walk away, he was just dragged across the floor with his arms still wrapped tight around you. He never stopped apologizing, promising grander and grander things every other second.

In the end, you ended up consoling him. You had to reassure him that you were okay now, and that you’d continue to ask him for things again and again. All the while he laid his head on your lap after you two got a very expensive spa date.

“Promise?” He sniffed.

“Yes, Satoru. I promise to ask you for things even if I barely want or need them,” You recited, memorizing the words after repeating them a hundred times over already. “-And I won’t feel bad for spending money with your black card.” The thought of doing that sent a pang of guilt through you, but it didn’t compare to the exasperation you felt after saying it over and over again. Maybe getting spoiled once in a while all the time wasn’t so bad.

❥ SUGURU GETO

He hadn’t expected it to hit you like that- he really hadn’t. It was a joke, a stupid little prank the girls had convinced him to do. They were giggling and nodding along and he couldn’t say no to his girls, now could he? Like a fool.

And his stomach twisted as he watched your expression drop. Suguru wanted to say something, his mouth opening but the words were caught in his throat as he watched you walk away.

“Daaad,” Nanako complained, tugging at his sleeve.

“You made them sad,” Mimiko whispered, her lip jutting out as she stared after you. “That wasn’t funny.”

Suguru blinked, looking down at both of them. Weren’t they the ones who suggested this? “And you didn’t even say it right,” Nanako added dramatically, arms crossed. “You were too serious.”

“Yeah,” Mimiko nodded. “Now you have to fix it.”

Both girls had already rushed ahead to walk beside you, gripping the edge of your coat and pouting up at you like you were the sun and they were clouds desperate to stay close. Little traitors. Now they were talking about how Mean Suguru was and how he’d make up for it.

What further broke his heart was how you reassured the girls, saying that it was fine and you shouldn’t ask for such expensive things so randomly like that. That made the girls pout, glaring back at him as if he put that idea in your head. Okay, maybe he deserved that though. Suguru hated that way of thinking of yours. Hated that for a split second, you thought you had to apologize for wanting something so small.

Luckily, the girls had shown their mercy towards him and started dragging you towards the display you were pointing at, saying that they wanted it too- And that you should match with them.

Suguru had made sure to pay for it immediately, taking your hand in his as he apologized. “You shouldn’t have had to apologize,” he said simply. “I’m sorry, it was a stupid prank.” He glanced towards the girls, who looked away to definitely look at other displays.

His eyes were on yours again, offering a soft but guilty smile. “You never have to earn anything from me. Not affection, not gifts, not a yes. You ask, and if it makes you smile, it’s already mine to give.”

By the end of the day, you were tired. You had walked around the mall for nearly 3 hours straight as the girls dragged you from one shop to the next, each time coming out with more bags than ever. 

None of them were held by you, Suguru had made sure of that. He was carrying a comical amount of bags and whenever you’d try to say something about it- About anything about this being too much, something you didn’t deserve, he’d gently shut it down and he nudged you towards the girls who were already looking at some cute plushies you’d like.

❥ KENTO NANAMI

Nanami realized the mistake the moment your fingers slipped from his.

He hadn’t expected you to let go so easily. Or for your voice to drop so small. He thought you’d laugh- roll your eyes and nudge him, maybe pout a little and say, “C’mon, don’t be stingy.” That’s what he’d expected. What he hadn’t expected was the way your expression shuttered, the way your shoulders stiffened like you were preparing for disappointment.

It had been a joke. A dry one, maybe poorly delivered, but harmless in intent. Just a shrug, a simple “nah” meant to be followed by a small chuckle.

God.

He hated himself a little, right then.

He caught up to you silently, his long strides swallowing the distance in seconds. He called your name softly, gently grabbing your wrist. When you turned to look at him, your face was schooled into something polite and a little too distant. The edges of your mouth tried to rise into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I was joking, darling,” he said softly, finally. “I didn’t mean it.”

Still, you didn’t fully relax. You just gave a small shrug, like it didn’t matter. “It’s fine, I didn’t need it anyway.”

He exhaled, frowning deeply now, before tugging you into the direction the two of you came from. Your eyes widened in panic, immediately repeating that it was fine, that he didn’t need to, that you seriously didn’t need it. It didn’t stop him though, he continued on with you in tow and bought it. When he handed it to you, his gaze softened.

“You never have to apologize for asking for something, especially not with me. I want to give you things. I want you to feel safe asking.”

Before you could open your mouth to go against him, he continued. “You deserve to be spoiled,” He let the item rest in your hands. “I’ll do better next time.”

“It’s yours,” he said, offering it to you without fanfare, but with the quiet weight of sincerity. “And I want you to enjoy it. No guilt. No apologies.”

You sighed, relaxing and holding what you wanted in your hands, wrapped in a paper bag.

Kento Nanami - 1, Your insecurity - 0.

❥ TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji had done it as a joke. Hell, he’d been messing around with you like this for as long as he could remember, teasing, pulling pranks that always ended with laughter and you rolling your eyes at him. But this? This wasn’t what he’d expected.

He fucked up. He rubbed a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. 

It only took him a moment to catch up with you, his long stride easily closing the gap, but when he reached you, he hesitated. He could tell you weren’t looking for an apology, not really—that would probably only make things worse. You were too polite for that, too considerate to make a big deal out of something like this.

But Toji was never one to let something slide. Not when it involved you.

So now, you found yourself being held hostage cuddled with one arm as Toji scrolled through your favorite online shops. You were snug in the crook of his arm, your legs tossed over his lap, cheek pressed against his chest. His fingers curled possessively around your waist. You had stopped struggling half an hour ago, knowing he wouldn’t budge.

“Toji- ” you started, voice soft.

“Shhh.” He continued scrolling on the phone, angling it so it was in your view. “Pick.”

“Toji, I don’t want anything-” You tried again- yes, he had been doing this for almost an hour. Making you pick out at a minimum of 5 things from every online shop he knew you liked.

“You heard me,” he said, voice low and firm. “Or I’ll pick everything out for you.”

“No!” You shouted, groaning as you slumped further into him. “It wasn’t even a big deal, I shouldn’t have-”

“It was a big deal,” he said, interrupting, his hand rubbing up and down your back with slow pressure. “I was joking, you took it seriously. Yknow I’d do anything for you, right?”

You swallowed thickly, biting your lip.

“I was tryna be funny,” he went on, quieter now. “But I didn’t realize I fucked it up that bad.”

“You didn’t- ”

“I did.” His tone left no room for argument. “And you felt bad for feelin’ bad. That ain’t right either.”

You sighed. “I just overreacted.”

“I don’t care if you cried in the middle of the damn store, I still would’ve been wrong.” He nudged your cheek with his chin. “Now pick your shit or I’ll do it for you.”

“...Fine.”

❥ SUKUNA RYOUMEN

Sukuna watched you walk ahead, your hand slipping from his like it had never belonged there in the first place. His hand twitched, flexing as if readying to cut someone up on instinct. He felt angry, but not exactly at you. Maybe at your brain, how you thought.

What the hell was that?- The hell do you mean, sorry?

Sukuna’s jaw ticked, crimson eyes narrowing as he tried to process what just happened. He could still see the display in the corner of his vision—the thing you wanted, whatever the hell it was. He hadn’t even looked properly. Just heard the tone in your voice, that soft, hopeful question, and thought, yeah, this’ll be funny.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. He didn’t speak much. Not because he was mad—but because he didn’t know what the fuck to say. He kept stealing glances at you. Watching you act like nothing happened. Quiet. Polite. Distant. Like you were doing your best not to take up space.

Sukuna hated it.

The next morning, you woke up to something absurd.

It started with a faint rustle beside the bed. You blinked your eyes open, brow furrowing, the sunlight just beginning to spill through the window. You groaned and turned over, feeling for your husband- Who was uncharacteristically not sleeping and warm beside you.

Instead, your eyes widened when you saw what was on the bedside. Not just the thing you wanted from the store yesterday.

But that plus a mountain of other gifts. Carefully stacked, painstakingly arranged—clothes, snacks, trinkets, plushies, books you’d mentioned offhandedly. Stuff that couldn’t have been pulled together overnight unless someone went on a tear through every store within ten miles and burned through money like it was paper.

Sitting beside it all, arms crossed, lip curled in a dramatic scowl… was Sukuna. He was tapping his foot impatiently.

You sat up, letting the blanket fall from your shoulders, mouth agape. “Sukuna…”

“It’s not a big deal,” he growled, red eyes darting away like they were allergic to your expression. “You wanted that dumb thing. So I got it. And the rest was- was just there. It was all on sale, probably. I didn’t check.”

Your gaze swept over the pile again. Some of it was very obviously not on sale. Limited edition. Imported. Things you’d only mentioned once while scrolling late at night. You looked back at him—and found him staring at the floor now, like he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes.

“Sukuna,” you said again, softer this time.

He let out a slow breath, tension sagging from his shoulders. “I didn’t mean it.” He grumbled. “Sorry.”

You swallowed. “Sukuna, it’s fine, this-” you motioned towards the pile of gifts. “This is too much for me! I didn’t mean to upset you, I overreacted anyway-”

He clicked his tongue. “You didn’t.” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I did. But it’s not like you were bein’ dramatic or anything. You just… looked like I kicked your damn puppy.”

“I wasn’t mad.”

“That’s worse!” he snapped, gesturing at you like you’d committed some unspeakable offense. “You weren’t mad. You were just-” hurt. He didn’t like it. “...Not happy.”

Your gaze softened. “You could’ve just said something there.”

He grunted. “Whatever.” He nudged one of the boxes towards you with his foot, it was wrapped in a pretty pink bow. “Open them.”

A.N. 😼😼😼 I enjoyed this one too much, thankyou for the request moonie ml <3

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FOUR

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy; abortion; health risks; insecurities. chapter one┆chapter two┆ chapter three

You were curled up next to Rafe, head on his shirtless chest, listening to the rise and fall of his breath.

You could hear the crash of the waves. His fingers were tangled in your hair, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

“Do you ever think about the future?” You asked, not even sure why you said it. 

Maybe it was the mood, the quiet.

He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating against your cheek.

“Future? Baby, we’re in the future right now.” He tilted his head to look down at you, his blue eyes catching the last bits of sunlight, making them almost glow. “What more do we need?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious. What’s next for us?”

He was quiet for a second, and you held your breath, waiting. Sometimes Rafe had this way of avoiding real talk. He’d joke, or deflect, or turn the conversation back to something easy.

“You,” he said, his voice low like he was confiding you a secret. “You’re what’s next. What’s always next.” His arm tightened around you, pulling you into his lap. 

You smiled, that stupid, giddy smile that probably made you look ridiculous, but you didn’t care. His breath tickled your forehead as he kissed you there slowly.

He was so sure in that moment, like nothing could touch you two.

You lifted your head, just enough to look at him.

His face was so clear, each detail spot on, you could reach out and touch it. His messy beach hair, the way it fell into his eyes, his crooked smile, that scar on his chin from when he’d wiped out on his bike in high school.

All of him was yours.

“Promise?” You asked, like a part of you needed to hear it again, needed the reassurance.

Rafe leaned in, his lips grazing yours before he whispered against them, “Promise.”

He had this way of making all feel so simple, like the future wasn’t some big, scary thing.

“I’m never letting you go,” it sounded more like a prayer coming from his lips, fingers tracing small circles on your arm, sending these tiny electric shocks through you. “You’re stuck with me, Thornton.”

“Good.”

But then something changed.

His grip loosened. His warmth started to fade, and you blinked, confused. You lifted your head, trying to find his eyes, but his face was different.

Blurred. Distant.

“Rafe?” You whispered, reaching for him, but he wasn’t there.

The warmth was completely gone, replaced with cold, empty air. You turned, searching for him, but all you saw were shadows where he used to be.

The waves crashed louder, and you realized you were alone. Just like that, everything was gone, everything he promised, was gone.

You sat up in bed, gasping, hands instinctively going to your stomach in the darkness of your bedroom.

He wasn’t here. He was with her. You were alone. 

Pregnant.

You tried to stabilize your breathing, wiping away the tears that had slipped out during your sleep. The bed felt too big, empty without him. And the memory of his touch, his words, felt cruel now. 

You stared up at the ceiling wondering how a memory could feel so real, so vivid, but that was all it was. Just a memory. Just another piece of the past you kept chasing.

You looked down at your stomach, your hand still resting on the bump, if you could call it that. You weren’t showing at all, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real. You knew it was.

Your very first appointment was in a few hours, and the thought of it made you want to throw up.

You needed to know how far along you were. It would be easier to stay in bed and let the what ifs spiral in your head than to face them, but you didn’t hold that privilege anymore.

You dragged yourself out of queen-sized bed, avoiding the mirror as you moved around the room.

You didn’t want to see your reflection right now, you dreaded facing the girl who had let herself get into this mess.

You threw on a pair of loose, old sweats and a hoodie, one that swallowed you whole, hiding everything.

The kind of outfit that made you feel invisible, and right now, that’s exactly what you wanted. It’s not like anyone around here cared much anyway, rich girl or not, kooks were experts at pretending. 

You grabbed your keys, your phone, and the one thing you couldn’t forget today —courage.

One foot in front of the other. One breath at a time.

The appointment was soon, and you needed to get there. You kept reminding yourself that you’d figure it out once you knew how far along you were, everything would make sense after that.

The drive there was a mess, the anxiety and anger, you didn’t want to acknowledge today were taking turns messing with your head.

You didn’t want to think about how you’d once imagined a future with Rafe, how he’d promised you a lifetime under the sun.

You could never feel guilty about keeping this from him. He’d made his choices, and now you had to make yours.

You rolled up in your car and had to park in the visitor lot, trying to sneak in like you weren’t a whole mess of nerves behind the wheel of a brand-new Range Rover.

It was practically empty, which was fine by you, less people to run into, less eyes on you, since every second you spent there was a second someone could recognize you.

Someone could see, that was the last thing you needed — for this to become some juicy little rumor for the Kildare gossip mill to chew up and spit out. 

You pulled your oversized sunglasses lower on your face, hoping they’d hide the fact that you were shaking.

You hated the fact that you were even in this position as you sat there, tapping your foot impatiently, checking the clock every five minutes like it was some kind of countdown to freedom.

Every noise from the hallway made you flinch, like any second someone familiar would burst through the door, see you there.

You winced in horror when your name was called out, following the nurse leading you down a sterile hallway that smelled of antiseptic. You tried to keep your mind off the fact that this was the first step toward the most life-altering decision you’d ever have to make. 

"The doctor will be in soon."

Times like these you wished you’d chosen a private clinic, but you had to avoid as many kooks as possible, even if it meant slumming it in this hospital. 

This was real.

Sitting down on the exam table, the paper crinkled under you, the sound making you cringe. You felt so small in that room, so alone. You’d always had someone—Rafe, even Topper. But right now, it was just you.

Your legs dangled off the edge of the table as you waited.

It felt like forever before there was a knock on the door, and the doctor entered.

"Hi, I’m Dr. Madison," she greeted you, offering you a smile as she sat down on the stool beside you. "How are you feeling today?"

What the fuck were you supposed to say? That your life was falling apart? That you didn’t know what to do? 

So you settled for a, “"I’ve been better," looking anywhere but at her.

She nodded like she understood, she’d most likely heard it all before. 

"Alrigh’, we’re just going to take a look and see how far along you are, okay? I’ll need you to lay back."

You did as she said, leaning back against the stiff pillow, trying to relax. 

"This is going to be a little cold," she warned as she reached for the ultrasound gel.

A little? You nearly jumped off the table as the gel hit your stomach, cold and slimy, like ice against your skin. You winced but tried to keep still as she spread it over your lower abdomen.

The machine whirred to life, and she placed the probe on your stomach. You sucked in a breath, trying not to cry as the screen lit up with grainy images.

She moved the probe slowly, methodically, her eyes glued to the monitor, and you couldn’t breathe. 

You forced your eyes to the ceiling, refusing to look at the monito, refusing to see. You couldn’t let yourself get attached, not like that.

If you saw what was on that screen—if you saw the shape of something, anything—it would kill you. Your breaths were shallow, and your fingers clenched the sides of the exam table, gripping the paper until it tore under your hands.

Dr. Madison was quiet as she moved the probe over your skin, you knew she was seeing something. You could hear the beeping of the machine, the faint hum of the monitor.

"Okay. Looks like you’re about thirteen weeks along."

"How long is that?"

"Almost 3 months, give or take."

No, that couldn’t be right, you’d barely felt any different.

You were at thirteen weeks. Just over the line.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry.

 "Thirteen?" you repeated, like maybe if you said it out loud, it would make more sense. But it didn’t.

"Alright," you told her, voice even, like that number wasn’t echoing in your head, smashing through the calm you’d been faking this whole time. 

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Madison eyes scanned your face, probably trying to gauge how much of this you were even absorbing. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

A lot? That didn’t even begin to cover it.

The doctor cleared her throat gently. “In North Carolina, after twelve weeks, the options for termination become much more limited unless it falls under specific conditions like rape, incest, or a fetal anomaly. I know this might be overwhelming, but I’m here to walk you through what’s possible.”

You nodded, but it was a lie. You weren’t hearing any of it, you were already listing other possibilities, another place.

Your mind was a step ahead, planning out the details, flights, or maybe driving. Somewhere where no one would ask questions, where you could walk in and get this over with.

Just slip away for a couple days.

She kept talking, saying something about other options, but you weren’t hearing it. It sent your heart into a stampede.

"Thanks, Doctor," you said when you realized she was done speaking, your voice perfectly polite, perfectly controlled. 

It felt like you were watching someone else speak.

You were nodding like you understood like you had a plan. Inside? You were screaming. Your thoughts were a mess, colliding into each other—Oh my God, what now, what the fuck are you going to do? So much more work just because you were stupid enough to wait.

Dr. Madison gave you this list—appointments to schedule, things you should and shouldn’t do, prenatal vitamins to pick up. She might as well have been speaking a different language for all you heard. 

You mumbled something that sounded like “thanks” as she handed you the prescription, barely glancing at the paper. 

“Is there really nothing I can do?”

You couldn't confide your plans to her, for obvious reasons.

“I can’t advocate for any illegal options, but I understand your concern. If you were just a week earlier, we could have discussed a simple outpatient procedure. However, now you’re facing a more complex situation.”

You never felt so frustrated in your life, “But I’m—I can get you anything. You don’t understand, I can pay—”

“Miss Thornton,” she interrupted, her voice firm yet sympathetic, “I know you’re not trying to bribe me right now. I need you to understand that legality and ethics come into play here. What you’re suggesting isn’t something I can support or even discuss further. We have to work within the framework of the law.”

You bit your tongue, resisting the temptation to lash out at her.

“So that’s it, then? I’m just supposed to accept that I’m stuck with this?”

“There are still options we can explore together. We can discuss what’s next in terms of prenatal care, adoption, or even resources that might help you if you choose to carry the pregnancy to term. But I can’t ignore the fact that you’re beyond the legal limit for a straightforward abortion.”

You blinked rapidly, “Adoption?”

The idea of keeping the baby made your stomach bend into a different shape, but that alternative felt just as wrong.

She looked at you with genuine empathy.

“I understand that this is overwhelming. The decision is ultimately yours, but I need to emphasize that time is of the essence, and the choices you make today will have lasting implications.”

Then she was gone, leaving you alone in that sterile room with your head spinning.

You couldn’t even fucking remember the last time you felt normal. Now, you were staring down the barrel of a pregnancy you didn’t even know was this far along. The doctor’s speech about vitamins, checkups, and avoiding alcohol bounced off around in your head.

You swallowed down the nausea that had nothing to do with morning sickness, grabbed your purse, and walked out like nothing had just changed. 

You shoved the papers into your purse without a second thought, your mind already screaming to get out, to run, to go somewhere.

Anywhere but here.

As you walked out into the waiting area, you spotted a mother with her toddler, the kid giggling and playing with his toys. Would your baby be that happy? Would they giggle like that?

No, no, you couldn’t go there.

Your fingers were numb as they fumbled for your keys, and you somehow managed to get into the Rover.

The second the door slammed shut, the tears you’d been restraining started to fall.

All you could think about was getting far, far away from here, somewhere no one would recognize you, where people didn’t know your last name or expect you to show up to some debutante ball with a well-behaved husband, a kid on each arm, perfectly polished.

"Fuck..." you whispered through clenched teeth, squeezing your eyes shut like maybe that could make it stop. But it didn’t. Your whole body was trembling, hands shaking so hard you couldn't hold the wheel right.

You leaned your forehead against the steering wheel, trying to catch your breath.

Thirteen weeks.

You couldn’t stay here, in this parking lot. You needed to go somewhere safe, somewhere that made sense. You needed them.

Without really thinking, you turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the lot. 

You didn’t even know where you were going at first, your body knew, the same familiar route you’d taken too many times. You didn’t realize where you were going at first, but once you passed the last stoplight before the cemetery, it hit you.

You parked haphazardly, not caring if your car was straight or if anyone saw. This was the only place you could think of. The only place that wasn’t ruined by all the mess in your life. 

Your parents. Your sister.

Their graves were tucked away in the back corner, under the big oak tree that had been there for as long as you could remember. You parked the car and got out, the ground crunching under your feet as you made your way to them. 

You sank to your knees in front of their headstones, your fingers brushing against the cool marble as if touching them could somehow make them feel closer. They’d been gone for five years, and no matter how many times you came here, that fact never got easier to swallow.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out, stopping to bite down on your bottom lip hard to keep from completely breaking down. “I’m so... I’m so fucking lost.”

The wind rustled the leaves above you, and for a second, you wished it would just take you away too. Make everything disappear.

“I’m pregnant.” You spit the words out, voice cracking, like admitting it was burning your throat. “Thirteen weeks,” you added, saying it out loud for the first time. Your hands curled into fists, fingers digging into the grass.

The tears came back, harder this time, and you bent forward, clutching your stomach, forehead pressing into the ground as if you could just bury yourself there. 

“I can’t—I can’t do this alone. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Your voice broke completely, turning into a sob that you couldn’t stop. You were crying so hard you couldn’t even breathe, gasping, like you were drowning in it. 

“Why aren’t you here?” you cried, “Why did you leave me? Why did you—” but the words caught in your throat, turning into another round of weeping.

You stayed for a long time, curled up on the ground, crying so hard it hurt, until the tears finally slowed, until you felt empty, drained.

Afterwards, you sat back, wiping at your swollen eyes with the back of your hand.

“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, this time softer, “And I can’t... I can’t tell him. He’s with her, and I—I just can’t.”

You sniffed, cleaning your nose with your sleeve, feeling ridiculous and broken all at once.

Your breath hitched again as you forced yourself to stand up, even though every part of you wanted to collapse back onto the ground. 

They were gone, it was just you. Alone. You think that’s why there was this tiny persistent voice in the back of your brain whispering things you weren’t ready to hear.

This was a chance, wasn’t it? To finally have someone again, someone you didn’t have to say goodbye to.

The second the thought crossed your mind, you felt a gush of panic, a nauseating conviction that you were nowhere near capable of raising a child. You barely remembered to take care of yourself, so how could you possibly take care of a baby?

It felt so fucked up to you, to think this could be a “fresh start” or something like it—no, you weren’t naïve enough to believe that. Not when you’d barely coped to get through the last five years.

You remembered the doctor’s voice, factual, mentioning adoption.

Carrying this baby only to hand it over to someone else—someone who might be better equipped—Could you do that? Carry a piece of your family’s future, only to give it away? It felt wrong.

You were halfway to your car, still wiping the tears from your face, when you heard someone call your name.

“Hey... Is that you?”

You froze. The last thing you wanted was to run into someone, especially now. Not here, not like this.

Turning slowly, you saw her — Sarah Cameron, Rafe’s sister — standing by her mom’s grave.

She was holding a bouquet of wildflowers, brown eyes narrowing as she took you in. She looked like she'd been here a while, but the moment she saw your state, she dropped what she came here to do.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" she asked, her voice rising with worry.

Her eyes, so different from Rafe’s, scanned over you, taking in your bloodshot eyes, the messy hair, the way your clothes were dirty from sitting on the ground too long. 

You hadn’t taken sides when her and Topper split up; you’d just known, deep down, that they weren’t right for each other. He had this stubborn, idealized version of her that she could never live up to, and that had been the beginning of the end.

You opened your mouth to say something, to tell her you were fine, that you didn’t need her sympathy right now. Instead, you just stood there like a fucking idiot, eyes wide, as Sarah dropped the flowers and rushed to your side.

“Hey, hey,” she panicked, as if she was talking to a wounded animal. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Sarah touched your arm gently, and that’s when it hit you, the fear, the panic, the loneliness — it overwhelmed you.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her, holding on tight.

You didn’t even care how desperate it looked, how messed up you were right now. You just needed someone.

She froze for a split second, caught off guard, but then she softened, her arms wrapping around you tightly. She was warm, solid, and so there, and the moment she hugged you back, the floodgates opened for the millionth time that week.

You started crying again, silent but hard, your face buried in her shoulder as your whole body shook.

Sarah didn’t say anything; didn’t ask questions, just focused on holding you tighter, her hand smoothing over your back like she was trying to calm you down. The kindness of it, the warmth,you hadn’t grasped how much you needed it until right now.

“Shh, it’s okay,” her voice was soothing. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You hadn’t seen her in months — not since everything went down with her and Rafe after Ward died.

The whole family had fallen apart after that.

Sarah had cut ties again, another fallout with Rafe. Things between them were always like a ticking time bomb, and Ward’s death had blown everything wide open. You knew they hadn’t been on speaking terms since.

It made this moment even weirder, seeing her here, of all places. She looked different, too, she was carrying her grief, her pain, that wild spark in her eyes a little more dim than you remembered.

As you pulled away from the hug, you blinked through the tears, and her face came back into focus. She was still looking at you, her brows knitted with worry, the wildflowers she’d brought for her mom now forgotten on the ground behind her. 

She looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but she was waiting for you to speak first.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you finally said something, trying to wipe your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. It was a lame thing to say, but you couldn’t find any better words.

Sarah gave a small, sad smile, shrugging a little. 

“Yeah, I just… I come here sometimes. To see my mom.” Her voice was quieter than usual, and you could hear the strain behind it, “I guess I needed it today.”

You understood the feeling all too well.

You both stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and you could tell she was dying to ask why you were here. Why you looked like you’d just been rolling around in the dirt. 

Instead, she said, “You okay? I mean, really?”

In some weird way, you’d always thought you’d be able to keep this part of yourself locked away, hidden and safe where no one could see it

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, the lie slipping out too easily. “Just… rough day, you know?” Your voice was hoarse, still shaky from the crying.

Sarah frowned, not convinced. She stepped closer, her hand hovering near your arm like she wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if you’d let her.

"You sure? You don’t look fine."

You forced a smile, “Yeah, I’m good. Just needed some air. It’s been a lot.” You didn’t want to get into it, didn’t want to unload everything. 

She sighed, her shoulders slumping just a little. 

“Okay. But… you know if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here, right?”

You blinked, not really sure how to answer to that, nodding away, hoping she’d drop it.

“I know I was just Rafe’s little sister,” she continued with pursed lips, “but you’ve always been like a big sister to me. Okay? Him being an asshole to both of us doesn’t change that. Ever.”

You could see she meant it. This wasn’t just some passing offer out of pity, Sarah was genuinely worried, wanting to be there for you.

You just nodded dumbly.

Sarah smiled softly with that same old Cameron determination. “Seriously. Whatever’s going on, I’m here.”

You stepped back, breaking the small bubble of comfort, you didn’t even realize you’d let her create.

“I should probably go,” you awkwardly muttered, brushing your hair out of your face and trying to straighten out your hoodie like that could somehow make you seem more put together. “But thanks, Sarah. Really.”

She just watched you with that worried look still across her face, but then she nodded. “Anytime.”

You turned to leave, feeling her eyes on your back as you walked away, your steps slow on the grass.

The loneliness had been suffocating, and even though you didn’t tell her anything, just hearing Sarah say she was there, that she still saw you as family—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

It wasn’t like anything was magically better.

You used to think this island would keep you safe forever, that it was big enough to hold your problems. 

Now, it felt like it was shrinking around you.

You were curled up on the couch, laptop balanced on your knees.

You’d googled “abortion options United States,” expecting answers, but all you found were long lists of restrictions, rules, states drawing hard lines.

You already knew that in North Carolina, you were already past the point of no return. So you kept digging, checking every single state until you found one, a random thread on some forum, that talked about New Mexico.

No restrictions on timing.

You scrolled, following link after link, getting deep into some Reddit threads, reading accounts from women who’d done it, who’d had to pack up their whole lives, fly out, handle everything on their own.

No one to tell, just a flight, a few days’ stay in a place that looked nothing like home, just to try and get back to normal. The whole time you were reading, this weird sense of relief and fear entwined in your gut. 

So you can get out of this.

By the time you shut your laptop, your head was pounding but at least you had something that felt like a plan.

The next morning, you woke up before the sun, tossing on yesterday’s clothes and brushing your hair as best you could with one hand. You scrolled through the numbers you’d scribbled down last night and dialed the first one.

You had to it straight away, without a chance of backing out. So you closed your eyes with all your might and hit call.

A woman’s voice picked up on the fourth ring.

“Women’s Health Center, this is Amanda. How can I help you?”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal. Like you weren’t shaking like a leaf.

“Hi. Um, I’m calling to see about scheduling… an appointment. I’m about thirteen weeks.”

“We do have availability. Our next spot is ten days from now.”

Ten days. Shit. Could you wait that long, or was that too soon? Shouldn't you think about it some more?

Maybe you needed more time.

Or maybe you shouldn’t be doing this at all.

You were already running through a hundred different what-ifs, a panicked mental list of everything you hadn’t thought through.

“Is that… is that the soonest?” You surprised yourself by asking.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could hear the kindness in Amanda’s voice.

“Yes, it’s our first available spot for a procedure beyond twelve weeks,” she informed you, “We’d also want to complete a few assessments with you, along with some necessary paperwork and counseling. I can walk you through everything if that helps.”

You nodded automatically, realizing a second too late she couldn’t see you. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

“I’ll go over a few things with you, so you’re prepared. Do you have a pen handy?”

You grabbed a random envelope and pen from the countertop, jotting down every detail.

“You’ll need a form of ID, proof of residency—we’re required to check for that. Some basic insurance information if you have it. You’ll also have some health assessments here when you arrive, mostly standard but including a psychological evaluation just to ensure everything’s covered from a health perspective.”

It was all just words, logistics. You weren't exactly processing the information, just robotically writing it down.

“There’s also a mandatory counseling session we’ll need to go through. In case you have questions, or concerns. This will all be confidential, but it’s for your safety, both physically and emotionally.”

“Right,” you said, just to say something. You didn’t know if you even wanted to talk about it, not with her or anyone. You just wanted this to be over with.

“The procedure itself is straightforward, but it’s still a surgery. It’ll last anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes, with a little more time afterward for recovery. We’ll go over any complications with you once you’re here—risk of infection, bleeding, discomfort. We make sure you’re clear on what to expect before anything happens.”

You forced yourself to nod, then remembered she couldn’t see you. “Got it. I’ll—yeah, I’ll get the paperwork together.”

"Just one last thing," Amanda added, "Given the nature of the procedure, we ask that you bring a companion along, someone to stay with you. They don’t have to be in the room, of course, but they’ll need to be present to help you get back safely after."

Your hand stopped. A companion?

"What?"

The small sense of peace was gone in a heartbeat.

You wanted to tell her that it would be fine, you’d figure it out, because, rationally speaking, who could you ask or who would you even trust with this?

"It's a requirement,” Amanda clarified, “For your safety. You’ll need someone there with you. It’s non-negotiable.”

“Right. So, like… a friend? Or…” You trailed off, trying to hide the fear overcoming your senses.

“Exactly,” she said. “A friend, a family member—just someone you’re comfortable with. It’s standard procedure for anything this involved.”

A friend. Family. Someone who could sit in that waiting room and just… know everything. You didn’t even have anyone who could know you were pregnant, let alone be with you for this. 

“The total will be around $3,500, which we typically split into a down payment and a final balance due at the time of the procedure. We can take payment in cash, card, or even a wire transfer if you need that flexibility. We’ll also require a 20% deposit to hold your spot, which you can pay over the phone now or through our secure online portal.”

You glanced at the envelope where you’d jotted down notes, biting your lip as you stared at the numbers. “Right, um, yeah, I can do the deposit now.”

“That’s perfect. One moment, please.” There was a click as she transferred you, and while you waited, you blinked down at the deposit amount. 

Seven hundred, you thought. Seven hundred dollars just to hold a place. It was nothing to you and yet it felt monumental.

A robotic voice greeted you, and you keyed in the card information, watching the screen as it processed. The payment cleared, and you felt the strangest sense of finality.

It was real, stamped and sealed.

Amanda returned to the line, “Thank you for taking care of that. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

“No, that's all. Thank you."

“Of course. We’ll see you in ten days.”

Now you were at this god for saken country club brunch. Why you even came, you had no idea.

Maybe it was a pathetic attempt to feel normal. 

You were trying so hard to look casual, like you hadn’t just been on the phone with a stranger, scheduling the most personal appointment of your life.

Thankfully, Ruthie had canceled last minute — some emergency with your cousin, no doubt. Small miracles. The last thing you needed was her crazy ass analyzing everything you did.

The spread of food on the table looked like a minefield of smells.

Just the sight of the eggs benedict made you want to hurl on your seat, and the fruity smell of the mimosas wafting through the air was…torture.

You’d kill for a sip, maybe even two. 

You were watching the sunlight catch on the bubbles, sparkling like they were tauting you. The craving was there, whispering thoughts that felt equal parts impossible and unavoidable. The idea hovered, tempting you with a cruel promise.

A few mimosas could maybe make this go away, couldn't it? Maybe you’d get lucky and this nightmare would just end on its own.

But the thought made you sick.

You could almost feel it, this new life clinging to you, sticking around no matter how much you wished it’d leave. There was some echo of a moral sense—some annoying, reasonable, voice within your head that wouldn’t let you grab the damn mimosa even though your fingers were twitching for it.

What was the problem if you were getting rid of it anyway?

You forced yourself to look away from the mimosas, knowing that just one glass might make you feel something—anything—other than this sick dread.

With an effort, you forced yourself to say, “Water, please.”

Of course, the universe just had to have its laugh, because the one bringing it wasn’t just any waiter.

It was Sofia. 

How come everyone got a break from shitty things happening to them, and you didn’t?

You must’ve been really awful in your past life.

Perhaps you were one of those medieval villains who ordered people to be drawn and quartered, or some spoiled empress tossing servants into dungeons for looking at you wrong.

How else could you explain it? Life kept pilling more shit on top of you. Or maybe it was less about karma and more about some fucked up endurance test. You were still here.

Rafe’s latest… girlfriend? Hookup? Whatever the hell they were, she had that title, and now she was in front of you, all fresh-faced, her apron hugging her like she’d just walked out of some pinterest brunch board.

Her hair was pulled back in this cute little bun, and her face held that perfectly innocent smile that made you want to scream.

She was practically glowing. 

Her skin had that effortless, sun-kissed warmth like she’d just gotten back from the Maldives or something. Not a shadow under her eyes, not a single stray hair — just this easy, perfect beauty that looked even more surreal under the soft morning sunlight.

It was ridiculous.

Meanwhile, you felt like a mess. Dark circles, a slight breakout on your chin, and an overall look of someone who hadn’t slept in… weeks? or was it months?

The last good night before nausea became a part of your daily life, and the constant anxiety kept you up at all hours, staring at the ceiling and wishing it’d all just disappear.

And here she was, gliding around like she was untouched by anything so messy, so…human.

You glanced down at your outfit, the pristine, tailored Miu Miu set from the new collection —the cropped blazer was light and airy, perfectly cinched at the waist, with sleeves just long enough to make it feel sophisticated but breezy, paired with a sleek, high-waisted mini skirt, the whole ensemble skimmed your frame effortlessly, made just for you.

You knew you looked expensive, the kind of look people envied, even if they’d never admit it. 

Every stitch, every button on this outfit screamed privilege and class, and yet here you were feeling like some tragic, half-dead version of the old you.

Why the fuck were you even comparing yourself to her? She was still a pogue, for god’s sake.

Rafe’s latest toy or project or whatever, you had no business even wasting brain cells on her. So what if she looked a little too chipper, too perfect? 

She wasn’t worth the mental energy.

Just as you forced yourself to refocus, Sofia reappeared, setting a glass of water in front of you with that same innocent, syrupy smile.

“Here’s your water,” she chirped.

You hated that sound. 

She didn't look or sound in-your-face or territorial, more salt on an open wound.

Just hours ago, you were piecing together plans to get rid of the very thing that tied you to Rafe, and now here she was. 

You gave the glass a pointed look and then raised your eyes to meet hers. “I asked with ice.”

No, you didn’t.

You were supposed to be above this kind of petty bullshit, weren’t you? But the bitterness rooted in your gut like the mimosas you wanted so desperately.

“Oh?” Her face froze, that little smile twitching just a bit. “You did? I must’ve heard wrong. I’ll be right back with it.” She looked genuinely flustered as she turned to head back to the bar, her apron fluttering behind her. 

You caught yourself feeling the tiniest bit pathetic.

An unspoken vendetta against the girl serving water? Really? You almost felt a little ridiculous… almost.

“Oh, beautiful girl!”

It was Mrs. Aldridge, an old friend of your mother’s, all pearls and Chanel, her wrinkled hands wrapped around her mimosa.

“How’s your darling Rafe? I haven’t seen you two in ages!”

Instead of thinking better about it, your eyes slid over to Sofia.

She was setting the glass down, her face draining of color, frozen mid-action like a deer caught in headlights. It was almost too perfect.

You were gonna have fun with this, putting on your best sympathetic casually as if you’d had this conversation a hundred times. 

“Oh, we’re not together anymore,” you said, tone dripping with faux sweetness as you nodded in Sofia’s direction. “She is.”

Mrs. Aldridge’s eyes widened, almost bulging out of her head as she followed your gaze, putting two and two together with the slow, scandalized horror that only old-money kooks could manage.

You could hear her brain struggling to comprehend the fact that Rafe Cameron was now involved with the server.

The other women at the table leaned in, whispering behind manicured hands and designer sunglasses, eyebrows shooting up as they stole obvious glances at Sofia.

She was still standing there, stunned, her mouth opening like she wanted to say something. You half-expected her to look annoyed, maybe give you the scathing glare you’d be giving her all morning.

Instead she looked like she wanted to disappear into the woodwork.

“Oh dear…” Mrs. Aldridge’s voice trailed off, her eyes scanning her from head to toe with the kind of judgmental precision only years of country club experience could bring.

She cleared her throat as if she could somehow undo the fact that the help had captured Rafe Cameron’s attention.

“I suppose he’s… rebelling, then?” Another old lady muttered, eyebrows raised in suspicion, already delighted by the gossip forming on her tongue.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Who knows? That’s Rafe for you.” 

You took a sip of your water, feeling satisfied as murmurs spread across the table, surprise and judgment all directed squarely at Rafe and Sofia, who looked like she might faint on the spot.

You couldn’t lie — it was the most fun you’d had in weeks.

“Such a sweet girl,” Mrs. Aldridge mused, her gaze fixed on Sofia, who was now engaging another table with her bubbly personality. “But bless her heart, she doesn’t quite belong here.”

“Definitely not,” you clicked your tongue, allowing the disdain to seep into your voice, even as a small part of you felt like a spineless bitch for feeding her to the sharks.

“New money, if you ask me. I can’t take them seriously. Remember when Ward was just a pogue with big dreams, trying to make a name for himself.”

You saw her again, just a gimplse of her still taking orders with that big grin, still doing her job.

This was exactly what you’d wanted, right?

To see her squirm in her hand-me-down shoes, to show her the world she’d trespassed on wasn’t as welcoming as she might have believed.

But your conscience decided to make an apperance, one more time, slipping in with a knowing sigh. You wanted to hurt Rafe, not her.

This was cruelty, plain and simple, the girl was only trying to survive.

She was dealing with these judgmental eyes and assumptions, probably used to being reminded that she didn’t belong, that she didn’t measure up, and you were sinking to that same level of entitlement and superiority.

The satisfaction wasn’t as sweet as you’d thought it would be. Dragging her into it was cheap, easy, like pushing someone off balance simply because they happened to be standing there.

You forced a giggle to match the others, playing the charade, but inside, something started to feel uncomfortable. You knew what it was like to be scrutinized, to have them pick you apart, to whisper behind your back.

You remembered how much it hurt.

To these people, you were only steps away from that same old judgment. If they knew about the appointment...their conservatives asses would ruin your reputation.

They’d tear into you in the same way, a scandal spread in manicured lawns and private golf courses.

Mrs. Aldridge leaned in conspiratorially, her aged perfume filling the air. “If he truly cared for her, he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself like this.” She sighed, looking at you like she expected you to agree.

You took a breath, one that felt painful, because were you really about to do this shit?

“It’s Rafe’s life,” you replied, shrugging. “Maybe she makes him happy. Who knows?”

The table quieted, a few eyebrows raised, flabbergasted that you hadn’t indulged in more snide remarks. At the end of the day, the life you wanted — it wasn’t this.

Maybe it was time to let some of it go.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[yunamoona]

formation a !

summary: you’re getting hit on!!! Luckily your friends have a protocol to neutralize this very situation.

content: fluff, satoru gojo x fem!reader (ft. Shoko and Suguru), silliness, gojo vs jealousy. Gege if he was full of joy and whimsy AU where they all at least make it to their last year of school together. Oh and thug Geto (but not really) allusion to the “Formation b” og at the end.

a/n: we all saw how quick Gojo was to reacting to Megumi “getting hit on.” formation b??? yeah, that was NOT his first rodeo…anyways, this is my first oneshot! please be forgiving, but I’m open to constructive criticism! also feel free to send feedback & reqs! info in my pinned.

“I don’t waannaaaaa!”

“Then go home.”

“I don’t wanna do that eitherrr”

Before you can snap at him again, it’s Suguru who smacks him upside the head, “then quit whining,” the man grumbles as Satoru whimpers and rubs the back of his head. “It’s already hot as balls out, you’re giving me a headache.”

Satoru huffs at that, purposefully stumbling along the sidewalk to knock himself into Suguru. There’s an oof as Geto returns the gesture by elbowing him in the gut, and some of your and Shoko’s shopping bags slip down Gojo’s arms as he shoulders the other man again, more intentionally this time. It’s moments before the two break out into a full on scuffle.

“Let’s bring Haibara and Nanami next time, kay?” Shoko jests loud enough for the two behind to hear, her thumb jabbing backwards towards them with that feline smirk on her lips. “They’re way more well-behaved than those idiots.”

“You can’t replace me— maybe Suguru, but not me!” Satoru wheezed out, sputtering a bit. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Suguru tightening the headlock around the other boy’s neck, squeezing a choked sound from Satoru as his sunglasses slipped down his nose. “You’d miss me too much!”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, we’re almost done shopping, alright? I just wanna get one more thing.” You point a little ways ahead to the shop you’ve been meaning to get to after hearing they had a sale on all their blind packs.

Yet looking backwards, you could see the heat was getting to your friends, making them more irritable and haggard. Even Shoko looked about ready to call it a day, but it was Satoru who appeared to be the least tolerant. He was practically dragging his feet across the ground, cheeks flushed red from the absurd heat and a rare genuine frown on his lips. The sight made your heart pang just a little.

Your gaze traveled around the little outdoor shopping center, landing on something that you were sure would bring up the mood— at least for a certain someone.

“Oh!” You pepped, pointing out a little cart stationed at the corner across from the store you wanted to hit up. Perfect. “How about we stop for ice cream?”

The way Satoru brightens immediately is almost uncanny, azure eyes sparkling and wide. “How’d you know that’s exactly what I was thinking?” He beamed, toothy grin wide and unabashed. “See, this is why we’re soulmates!”

You wish he’d stop saying thoughtless nonsense stuff like that.

The four of you stroll up to the stand, the older man running it joyfully greeting your group as Satoru leaned over the counter, enthusiastically giving your orders. You can’t stop thinking about that shop across the way, though. Clarence. Blind boxes. Marked down. MiniBrands…other people were gonna buy them all out…

“Shookoooo,” You whine, your bottom lip jutted as you reach for her hand, nodding your head towards the store. “Come with me pleeaaase? I’ll be quick.”

Lie.

Both of you told the guys you’d only be a minute, but it’s been at least 15 by now. Where the heck were they hiding your stupid discount mystery boxes??

“I know they’re here,” You reassure Shoko after dragging her into the same aisle you’ve checked three times now. “Somewhere. I have that feeling.” She doesn’t argue, but you feel her unspoken doubt.

After a while still, Shoko taps you on the shoulder.

“You keep looking, I’ll be right back,” she hums, middle and pointer finger tapping her lips. Then she was waving and strolling out the automatic doors, right back to where you both left Satoru and Suguru. The latter was manspread on a bench and scrolling on his phone, the former half-perched on the armrest watching the screen over Suguru’s shoulder. He had his second half eaten popsicle in one hand, taking sneaky licks of your ice cream in his other when he thought no one was looking.

He didn’t pay Ieiri any mind for a good several minutes, not until he peered up into the glass window of the store across the street, tongue frozen mid-lick of your ice cream. You were in there, without them— with some guy— chatting. Laughing. Suguru’s head rose when he heard the plop of frozen dairy hitting the asphalt, following his friend’s gaze after registering his alarmed expression.

The ebony haired man sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. “That’s rough.”

In a blink Gojo’s hands grip Shoko’s arms with urgency. “Shoko.” He gritted, hand flying to make wild motions toward the shop.

The girl squinted, spotting you inside after a few seconds, talking to some guy. “Oh. Good for her,” she’d acknowledge coolly around the cigarette at the corner of her lips.

Satoru’s frown drastically deepens.

“You were supposed to stay with her— what happened to girl code?”

“I needed a smoke. And what do you know about girl code?”

“Queens before nicotine!” Satoru stressed while jostling the easygoing girl.

“C’mon, c’moonn, we gotta hurry. Do it like we practiced, alright?”

“These what you’re looking for?” The man who’d originally approached you pulled out a small colorful package from a larger cardboard box, lopsided grin on his plain face as he held it out to you.

“Omg, yes!” You cheered, clasping your hands together. At long last, you’ve been reunited with your cheap blind boxes. “Thank you so much, you have no idea—“

Your name is called out somewhere down the aisle, and when you turn to look, you spot Shoko back from her smoke break.

The brunette looked less than enthused, however, eyes flitting down to very obviously scan some note cards between her fingers. She briefly cleared her throat.

“Another one? Damn girl. Isn’t this your third one today? I thought what we had meant something to you.” She exclaimed flatly, articulating every word like a robot. She shuffles to the next card. “Girl, you crazy.”

???

You stare at her with a gaped jaw and knitted brows, lips barely forming the beginnings of the word “What—“ when you hear the chime of the door. And in the storefront’s entrance stood Suguru- reimagined to look…vaguely thuggish?? Your eyes don’t know where to look, between the rolled up sleeves of his rumpled uniform that showed a poorly scribbled tattoo sleeve on the arm of his pocketed hand, and the jagged scar with a smudge of red that’s suddenly appeared on his right cheek. (You’ll learn later they’re sharpie marker and Shoko’s red lip stain.)

“Hey babe,” BABE?? “Sorry to keep ya waiting. There was…a complication.” He grunts around a toothpick. You only notice he’s lugging a bat over his shoulder when he taps it twice against himself for an intimidating emphasis. He begins to stride toward the three of you, unimpressed glare landing on the man who’s now shuffled slightly behind you. “But there’s no trouble here. Right?”

The poor guy looked ready to piss his pants out of fear. You were ready to explode out of shock and embarrassment.

“I—“ You open and close your mouth like a gasping fish, but no words are forming as your baffled expression shifts between Shoko and Suguru. “What the hell is happening?!”

Admittedly, you did feel a sense of foreboding. Like a piece was missing from this debacle of a puzzle. A grand finale that would ensure you would never set foot into this store for at least another decade out of pure shame.

“Would you step away from her? You homewreckers!”

No. Nononono—

To your horror, large hands clap over your arms, spinning you around to face teary cerulean eyes.

God knows where his uniform jacket’s gone, or where he’s managed to get a tie to wear at the collar of his white button up on such short notice.

The way he laments your name is already enough to make you cringe, his disheveled white hair cascading as he slumps his head forward between his shoulders, his hands bracing on yours.

“I knew you’d be out here, fooling around! Don’t tell me it was a lie? When you said I was the only one for you?? I slave away everyday at that damn office— to provide— for us!!” He’s sobbing, in the midst of his own soapy k-drama. You half expect cherry blossoms to start raining from the tiled ceiling covered in harsh fluorescent lights, or for some violin-heavy ballad to start playing.

“Come home,” he begs, lifting his face stricken with faux tears to meet your eyes. “the kids miss you…”

There are no words to describe how much you wish to disappear. The blood that had drained from your face comes back tenfold, now buzzing in fiery humiliation.

There’s a too heavy, too long, awkward pause.

“…Okay, well. If you don’t need anything else, I should get back to restocking…” The man who’d been the target of Satoru’s strategic wrath half-bowed his head, anxious to shuffle away with a forced polite smile. “Glad I could help you find what you were looking for, miss.”

“Huh.” Both Gojo and Geto chirp in unison, heads tilting in confusion. Only then do the men maybe register the fact the guy who was “hitting on you” was wearing a uniform and a name tag. And then understanding dawned. Not before you yank at either of their ears, unfortunately, which they begrudgingly accept.

“What is wrong with you guys??” You fume, and either of them shrug, wincing when you tug harder. Best to take this sitting down. “Why would you embarrass me like that— and why’re you dressed like the villain of a low budget movie?” Geto glances sideways and you can almost see the guilty cartoon sweat drop.

With a long suffering sigh you release the both of them, whipping around to Shoko with hands on your hips. “Okay, but why’d you go along with this?” You ask in exasperation. She merely gives a halfhearted shrug.

“‘Was bored.” Figures.

“So mean! We had good intentions, where’s the love?” Satoru pouted, faux tears in his eyes as he rubbed at his reddened ear.

“You,” Was all you could muster in a dangerous tone, accusing finger jabbing towards him. He jolted, at least having the decency to look somewhat fearful even if it was mostly overshadowed by thrill. “I know you’re behind this.”

“Sweetness, hey,” He attempted to pacify you, palms forward. “before you get mad, I—“ The squeal that elicits from him is girlish as he twisted just out of your reach. Then he’s booking it. Slippery bastard.

The way he cackles at you as you give chase makes your cheeks burn hotter, curses and promises of strangling him spilling from your lips. He howls when you nearly crash into the ice cream stand while whipping around the corner after him, the owner shouting his own swears at the two of you and…

…and the remainder of the memory escapes you as sunspots dance in your vision. Bright light sears your eyes the moment you manage to blink them open, a bead of sweat rolling from your forehead down the bridge of your nose. You just sit there for a minute like this, dazedly staring at the sky. Trying to hold onto the vivid imagery before it began to fade back into the recesses of your mind once more. With a grumble you gain your bearings, wiping your face with a sleeve as you stand. You swear there’d been shade over this bench when you sat down…just how long had you been sitting here in this heat?

You look side to side. Where have your students gone? Well, your students, and that overgrown manchild—

“Fushigurooo!!”

“No.”

“But Fushigur-“

“Stop following me.”

Your head snaps to where your students are zipping past the sidewalk, Yuji stumbling after Megumi as he stormed off.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Fushiguro! I really thought she was hitting on you— y’know, Bros before Does!” Itadori placated with a pleading gesture of his hands. With one glance behind him however he jolted, picking up the pace into a sprint almost immediately after spotting Kugisaki barreling towards them.

“Itadori, you idiot!” She squawked, waving a fist as if to clobber him once she caught up. “Making us chase down that angsty sea urchin in this heat! You’re gonna get it!!”

All three disappear around that corner where that ice cream stand always used to be posted, an echo of the past. Come to think of it, it hasn’t been around for years, and you idly wonder what became of the old man who used to run it.

As if on cue, Satoru meanders up to you, ruffling his snowy hair as he readjusts his blindfold over his eyes. He beams simply at the sight of you.

Your glare hardens, and he startles. He knows that you know he’s the mastermind behind that spectacle you’d just witnessed. Was it really that long ago since he pulled this same stupid stunt? He never did quite change.

“Ehehehhh,” He pitters nervously, putting on a wide innocent grin as you approach, index scratching a nonexistent itch at his jaw. “Hi sweetie, baby, love of my life—”

What makes him give pause though is the way you just trudge into his side and nod your head against his chest. You feel an arm instinctively wrap around you, and it makes you uncomfortably warm in this hot weather, but you don’t entirely mind it either. “Hey, what’s up,” he murmurs more sincerely, head craning to get a better peek at you. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Is what you mutter in response, still replaying the dream of that memory in your head. It made you feel poignantly happy, but the aftertaste of the emotion left you…tired. “Heat fatigue.”

“Right.” His grip tightened, nestling you closer. He doesn’t say anything, just letting the quiet fill the air aside from the croak of locusts. You wonder if he’s reminiscing on those times, too. Before everything— “I betch’ya got a nasty tan line.”

“Satoru!”

“I’m kidding! You’d be sexy even if you had a redneck tan.”

“Ew, don’t even say that!” You scold even if you can’t keep the ridiculous smile off your face. You still check under your sleeve for good measure, to which he chuckles.

“Wanna get some ice cream?” There’s a smile in his voice, and you feel his lips stamp a kiss to your sweat damp forehead.

“Y’read my mind.”

[snail-day]

Can My Friend Join?

Your boyfriend wants his murderer of a best friend to join your relationship. You'll do that for him, right?

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader

Part two

TW: Yandere Behaviors, dubcon/noncon?, Manipulation, SatoSugu, Potential grammatical/spelling errors, oral/fingering (f! receiving), Trapping/love bombing. MDNI

WC: 5.2k

You see, it wasn’t totally unlike your boyfriend to make crazy decisions.

Satoru was rash, impulsive, yet completely and utterly in love with you in a way that made it hard to say no to him. And he always knew how to work that to his advantage. You’d let him get away with just about anything—like buying a penthouse in Shibuya without even stepping foot in it, or whisking you off on spontaneous trips for “work” that had your boss threatening to fire you every time you gave him a last-minute call about your absence.

Crazy decisions were his specialty, after all. Including the craziest one of all: dating you, a non sorcerer, that was not a well-kept secret from his clan.

And now, his most recent decision was leaving you staring at him in stunned disbelief.

“Come on, baby, he’s going to therapy,” Satoru murmured into your ear, his arms snug around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. His voice was soft, almost coaxing, as he peppered gentle kisses along the curve of your neck. “You remember Sugu, right? You even mentioned you had a little crush on him before we started dating.”

Suguru Geto. The man who’d slaughtered a village, started a cult, and declared genocide on nonsorcerers like you.

But now, according to Satoru, he was “better.” Redeemed, even. Whatever that meant. He wasn’t a deranged cult leader anymore, apparently. Therapy had fixed him. Or at least, that’s what Satoru was claiming with his usual breezy confidence.

“My love,” you began softly, setting the tea you’d been preparing down to turn and face him. His cerulean eyes shone with that familiar affection, the corners crinkling slightly as he gazed down at you like you hung the moon. It made your chest ache. “I know you two… had a thing. But why does he need to be a part of our relationship?”

You tried to keep your tone gentle, like you were trying to reason with him. Because, honestly, you were.

Satoru tilted his head, his grin widening just enough to tell you he’d been prepared for this question. “Mmm, well,” he started, the teasing lilt of his voice softening. “You were there for me, weren’t you? You’ve kept me grounded—saved me, even.” He leaned in to nuzzle against your cheek. “I figured… maybe you could do the same for him. Help him down a better path, you know? Keep an eye on him.”

Your heart sank.

“And,” he added with a sheepish laugh, his blush deepening as his hand rubbed the back of his neck, “well, he was actually the one who suggested it.”

That had your stomach twisting uncomfortably. You searched his face for answers, for some sign that this wasn’t as serious as it sounded. But all you found was that lovesick smile of his.

And you knew.

Satoru still had feelings for Suguru. He’d never said it outright, but the signs were there. The way his voice softened when he spoke of him. The wistful, almost mournful glint in his eyes whenever Suguru’s name came up. And, of course, the times he’d accidentally murmured Suguru’s name in moments of intimacy with you.

Your throat felt tight.

“Satoru…” You struggled to find the words, to balance the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. Jealousy. Confusion. Heartbreak. And, strangely enough, pity.

“It won’t change anything between us,” he said quickly, like he could see your doubts forming. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing soothingly against your skin. “I promise. You’re my person—my love. I just… I can’t let him go again. Not like before.”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “And what if I can’t do this? What if I can’t… share you?”

Satoru’s expression softened, his usual playful confidence replaced with something raw and pleading. “Please,” he murmured, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. It wasn’t like him to plead. To beg. “Just think about it, okay? You won’t be home alone as much anymore when I’m out on missions. With Suguru back, there’ll be two strongest sorcerers. That means I won’t have to work or be on call as much. I’m thinking about us, baby.”

His words were so earnest, so filled with affection, that they pressed against your chest like a weight. You should’ve voiced your opinions, should’ve argued, but the guilt crept in before you could. Satoru had done so much for you—letting you live with him rent-free, covering your schooling, and showering you with a kind of love that had felt impossible in a world where you were so much weaker than him.

How could you say no to him? Not after everything.

So, what if you were allowing some murderer into your relationship? Satoru said he was better now. Satoru loved you. He wouldn’t steer you wrong… right?

You bit your lip, glancing away before nodding hesitantly. “Can we… take things slow, Toru?” Your voice was soft, almost unsure, as you sheepishly met his gaze.

Satoru’s face lit up with relief, his cerulean eyes shining so brightly it was almost blinding. “Oh, of course, baby. As slow as you need to. I know I can be a bit… eager, heh,” he said with a nervous laugh, his hands cupping your cheeks tenderly. Then, with a playful grin, he squished them together, molding your lips into silly fishy shapes.

“There it is! Cute as ever,” he teased, leaning closer, his voice softer now. “But I still love you. You know that, right?”

You nodded automatically, leaning into his touch despite the unease swirling in your stomach. Perhaps, you were overthinking this. Relationships need a bit of spice, right?

“I know,” you murmured, forcing a small smile. “I love you too.”

The words almost came automatically, yet your anxiety continued to ring alarming bells.

He grinned, his usual teasing confidence returning as he kissed your forehead. “That’s my baby. I knew you’d understand.”

And so, within a week, Suguru Geto moved in.

It was awkward at first. You weren’t sure how to act around him—this man who carried a dark, complicated history yet exuded a calm, almost disarming aura. Offering shy smiles felt like the extent of your bravery, and more often than not, you retreated to the sanctuary of your bedroom.

At least Suguru had the decency to move into the guest room initially. That small gesture was a relief in itself. And thankfully, with Satoru and Suguru being sorcerers, you were rarely alone with him. At least not yet.

But Suguru was... considerate. You couldn’t deny that. He had a quiet, almost effortless charm, and while you had your issues—big issues—you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was a handsome, beautiful man.

“Ah, do you need help?” Suguru asked one day, his deep voice breaking the silence as he spotted you reaching for the Christmas decorations tucked away on the highest shelf of the closet.

You froze for a moment, clutching at the edge of the shelf. “No, I’ll be alright… thank you,” you murmured, your voice almost too shy.

Suguru tilted his head, his dark eyes softening as he took a step closer. “It’s no trouble. Here.” Without waiting for permission, he reached up effortlessly, his height making quick work of retrieving the box.

You thanked him quietly, clutching the box as you avoided his gaze. His lips quirked into a faint smile, but he said nothing, stepping back to give you space.

Then there were the times he helped without hesitation, like during grocery trips.

Satoru would inevitably dart off down the aisles, hunting for sweets or whatever caught his attention. Suguru, on the other hand, stuck to your side, the picture of calm efficiency. He’d scan the list you held, nodding thoughtfully before reaching for items on the shelves—always grabbing your favorite brands without you needing to say a word.

“You cook often, don’t you?” he remarked once, glancing at the cart as he placed a box of your preferred pasta into it.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied, startled by how observant he was. “It’s… kind of relaxing.”

He hummed in agreement, his expression neutral but not unkind. “I can see that. I’ll have to try some of your cooking sometime.”

The comment left you flustered, unsure how to respond. Satoru would’ve teased you mercilessly, but Suguru simply kept moving, scanning the shelves like he wasn’t even aware of the small storm brewing in your chest.

It was moments like these—small, thoughtful gestures and quiet interactions—that left you unsettled. Suguru wasn’t what you expected. You’d braced yourself for someone dangerous, cold, someone you couldn’t trust. But instead, he was... kind. Maybe too kind.

And that was what unnerved you the most.

Because every time you caught his lingering gaze or noticed the way he seemed to effortlessly fit into your routines, you couldn’t help but wonder: Was he doing this for Satoru? Or was he doing it for you?

It started off slow. Like a light sprinkle before the storm. 

Satoru was still the same as ever—the fun-loving boyfriend, full of laughter and mischief. He’d press kisses to your cheek, wrap you in his arms, and tease you in that playful way that made your heart flutter. But lately, his words carried a strange edge, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Maybe start showing Sugu a bit of love,” he teased one evening, nuzzling against your neck as you brushed your teeth. “He’s trying, y’know. Don’t be difficult, baby.”

You froze for a moment, the brush stilling in your hand as you quickly spit out the toothpaste. That… hurt. His tone was light, but the implication stung. Was he disappointed in you?

Still, you managed a tight smile and nodded, swallowing your unease. “I’ll try.”

Satoru grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “That’s my baby.”

But then Suguru began to be more… involved.

It wasn’t anything overt at first. He’d sit quietly in the living room while you watched TV, occasionally commenting on the plot like a polite guest. Not as the boyfriend he was supposed to be, that you didn’t want him to be. He’d help with household chores without being asked, his quiet competence a stark contrast to Satoru’s chaotic energy.

But there was something about the way his presence lingered—like a shadow stretching further than it should.

“Tired?” he asked one evening, his voice like honey as you struggled to keep your eyes open on the couch. You felt him sit down beside you, close enough that his warmth seeped into your side.

You nodded, your words slurring slightly. “Yeah… long day.”

Suguru reached out, his fingers brushing against your temple as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was gentle, almost tender, but his dark eyes… they hid something.

“You should rest more,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Satoru worries about you.”

You blinked, struggling to process his words. “He does?”

Suguru smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course. We both do.”

The way he said it—we—sent a strange chill down your spine.

As the days passed, the small, unsettling moments began to pile up.

Suguru had a way of always being there, always watching. When you left a room, you’d turn to find his gaze following you. When you spoke, he listened so intently it felt like he was dissecting your every word.

And Satoru, who’d always been possessive in his teasing way, started pushing boundaries in ways he hadn’t before.

One evening, as you tried to excuse yourself to your bedroom after dinner, Satoru caught your wrist, pulling you back to the living room where Suguru sat quietly.

“Don’t run off so quick,” he said, his grin wide but his grip firm. “We’re a family now, aren’t we? Stay with us for a bit.”

Suguru looked up from his tea, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Satoru’s right,” he said softly, his lips curving into a small, almost inviting smile. “It’s nice when we’re all together.”

The way they looked at you—Satoru’s bright gaze brimming with love, Suguru’s dark eyes filled with something deeper, darker—made you feel trapped.

And then, Satoru had to leave.

He was off to Kenya for a mission with a student, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the apartment felt… quieter. You’d thought, perhaps foolishly, that Suguru would be sent off somewhere too, leaving you to breathe for a moment, to process.

But no.

Suguru stayed.

The first few nights felt strange, the absence of Satoru’s boundless energy a sharp contrast to Suguru’s quiet, deliberate presence. He wasn’t pushy—if anything, he gave you more space than usual, offering soft smiles and polite conversation. But there was always something in the air, something unspoken, something that made the silence between you feel heavier than it should.

And then, one night, as you lay in what felt like a bed too big without Satoru’s warmth beside you, you felt it—a hand wrapping around your waist, firm yet gentle, pulling you back against a solid chest.

Your breath hitched as a woodsy, earthy scent filled your nose, inky dark hair brushing against your shoulders.

Your heart sank once again, something it’s been doing a little too much as of late. 

“You’re awake,” Suguru murmured softly, his voice warm and low, like he’d been waiting for you to notice. His lips ghosted against your cheek in a feather-light kiss, making your skin prickle. “Satoru said I should join you. Keep you safe.”

Safe? The word felt foreign, almost cruel, as if it was meant to comfort you when it did the exact opposite.

“Suguru,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to pull away, but his arm around your waist tightened, holding you in place.

“Shh,” he soothed, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s okay. I know it feels strange, but Satoru trusts me to look after you. He said you get lonely when he’s away.”

Your stomach twisted. This wasn’t Satoru’s doing—at least, not entirely. This was Suguru, using Satoru’s words, his trust, to inch closer, to blur the lines you’d been desperately trying to hold onto.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His hand moved, sliding up to rest lightly against your ribs, his touch slow and deliberate. “I want to,” he murmured. “You deserve someone to care for you, even when Satoru can’t. That’s what we agreed on, isn’t it?”

You froze. Agreed on?

The realization hit you like a wave, cold and suffocating. This wasn’t just Satoru’s idea. This wasn’t just about keeping you “safe” or “happy.” This was part of something bigger, something the two of them had decided for you, without you.

“I don’t think—” you started, but Suguru cut you off, his voice still maddeningly calm.

“You don’t have to think,” he said softly, almost kindly, as his fingers brushed against your jaw, tilting your head slightly so he could press a kiss to your temple. “Just go to sleep, yeah?”

But the way his grip on you remained firm, the way his body pressed so closely against yours, made it abundantly clear that this wasn’t a request.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic rhythm that you were sure he could feel where his arm wrapped around your waist. Go to sleep? How could you possibly sleep with this man lying so close, his breath steady against the back of your neck, his warmth invading every inch of your space?

Suguru shifted slightly, his arm pulling you tighter against him as though sensing your discomfort. “You’re tense,” he murmured, his tone carrying a strange gentleness. “It’s okay to relax. I’m here.”

His words sent shivers down your body and tendrils of anxiety in your mind, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to calm down. But how could you relax when your instincts screamed that something was wrong? That something about him, about this situation, was profoundly off?

You tried to focus on your breathing, hoping it would drown out the sound of your racing thoughts. But every inhale carried the faint, woodsy scent of him—so different from Satoru’s familiar, comforting smell. It was calming, yet suffocating all at once.

A small voice crept in your mind, you shouldn’t feel calm. 

Suguru hummed softly, a low, melodic sound that sent another wave of unease through you. “You smell nice,” he said, almost absentmindedly. His nose brushed against your hair, and you froze as he inhaled deeply. “Like home.”

The words were meant to be reassuring, you thought. But they felt wrong, invasive, like he was claiming a piece of you that wasn’t his to take.

You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat. And in that silence, Suguru’s hand shifted, moving from your ribs to rest lightly against your stomach, the weight of it grounding and possessive.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispered, his voice softer now, almost tender. Almost loving. “I’ll keep you safe. Just sleep, okay?”

Your throat tightened, and your breathing came faster as you tried to steady yourself. Safe. He kept using that word, as though repeating it would make it true. As if he were tricking your mind into thinking it was true. 

But how could you feel safe when every instinct in your body screamed at you to run?

Suguru’s grip didn’t waver, and the steady rhythm of his breathing filled the silence, lulling you into a state of uneasy stillness. You didn’t know how long you lay there, rigid and wide-eyed, before exhaustion began to weigh on you.

Your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes fluttered shut, and your breathing evened out.

You stirred awake to a sensation so surreal, so tender, that in your dreamlike haze, you convinced yourself it was Satoru.

The soft brush of hair between your thighs, a large, calloused hand rested on the fat of your thighs, keeping your legs open, as your eyes were slowly opening from sleep. 

You felt his tongue drift up you sopping slit, moving to circle around your bundle of nerves, a whine escaping your lips as you shifted a little only for a warm hand to press against your abdomen to keep you from moving as he continued to dive deep into your cunt, his tongue switching from spelling a name on your sensitive clit to fucking your tight dripping heat. You couldn’t help but muffle your moans by biting the sheets. 

“Toru…” You whimpered out in pathetic small breaths. “Feels…s’good” it wasn’t like Satoru to be this in-depth with eating you out. It felt like he was mapping out your entire insides as he slowly inserted a finger into your dripping mess. 

You felt a nip on your inner thigh, causing a whine and for you to finally open your eyes. 

“Wrong boyfriend,” Suguru murmured, his voice a low, velvety hum that sent a shiver rippling down your spine. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement as he hovered just above your pussy that clenched around his fat finger that curled in just the right spot, your gummy walls clenching, no, greedily sucking in. His lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk. 

He tilted his head, his inky hair brushing against your trembling thighs as he leaned back down, his movements deliberate, controlled, as though savoring every moment of your reaction. His breath ghosted over your poor pussy, slowly licking up the mess you were leaking as he pushed his finger knuckle deep inside you, before slowly, teasingly adding another one of his thick fingers inside. Compared to Satoru’s thin long fingers, his was different, it was almost mind-numbing as your poor cunny tightened at the sudden intrusion of another finger.  

“Suguru” You panted out. “I-” and a gasp left your lips as you felt him curl both his fingers. Hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, no colors, all sorts of stars and colors, as he pried you open. Your mouth left agape as you tried to think of anything besides the pleasure and the sickening wet sounds that were filling the bedroom. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. You mind sang to you. But god, did it feel so good. 

“Mmmm, such a sweet pussy” he said softly before lightly sucking on your nub, earning sweet moans and whispers from your lips “Want me to stop, pretty?”  he said softly as he released your poor abused little clit with a loud pop. Offering a small kitten lick as you were trying to form a coherent sentence. 

“Come on, baby girl, use your words f’me.” His fingers slipping out of your slickened folds that caused you to look down at him with half-lidded eyes and a pout. You were so fucked.  

“You need me don’t you? Need me to help you?” He said softly as he pulled away, his big warm hand cupping your heat as you bucked your hips, his thumb lightly grazing your clit, toying with it softly. His chin glistened with your juices as he moved close to your face. 

It didn’t help that he was so devastatingly attractive—so effortlessly pretty, yet undeniably handsome. Every sharp line of his jaw, every curve of his lips, and the way his dark eyes seemed to pierce straight through you made it impossible to look away, even when you wanted to. Even when you knew you should.

“Give me a kiss, just one little kiss, and then I’ll let you cum. Okay, pretty?” Suguru hummed softly, his gaze lingering on your plump, red lips, his voice almost syrupy in its coaxing. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in the teary-eyed expression you offered him. “Can you do that for me?”

You wanted to fight him. Wanted to kick him off, shove him away, bite that insufferable smirk right off his face.

But he made you feel so good.

You were warm, fuzzy, and completely disconnected from yourself. Every logical thought dissolved into the haze of pleasure he’d wrapped you in. Your body betrayed you, nodding mindlessly like some desperate, needy thing you hardly recognized.

“One kiss?” you murmured meekly, your voice trembling.

Suguru’s grin widened, predatory and oh-so smug. “Just one,” he purred, watching as your eyes flickered away from him.

That’s when you saw it.

The camera.

Nestled discreetly in the corner of the room, its cold, unblinking lens stared back at you. Your stomach dropped, the haze clearing just enough for panic to creep in.

Suguru followed your gaze, and when he saw what had caught your attention, he chuckled—a low, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Oh,” he said smoothly, as though you’d stumbled upon a delightful surprise. “You found the camera.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours, his voice a whisper now. “Say hi to Toru.”

Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours, the kiss fierce and consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle—it was possessive, demanding, a declaration that left no room for resistance. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue brushed against yours, coaxing a response you couldn’t deny.

Every fleeting thought of resistance melted under the heat of his touch, leaving you utterly at his mercy, the world narrowing to the overwhelming intensity of him.

That fuzzy, dreamlike feeling reeled in your mind, spinning you further into a haze. The high you were on didn’t feel natural—it was too consuming, too overwhelming. Even after you came for the nth time, your body still burned with need, craving more despite the exhaustion creeping into your limbs.

You glanced at Suguru through the haze, his expression soft, almost tender, as he leaned down to scoop you into his arms. His strength was effortless, and the gentle smile that tugged at his lips felt entirely out of place with the aching mess he’d left you in.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he hummed softly, cradling you as though you weighed nothing.

Your body refused to cooperate, too spent and trembling to do anything but lay limply in his embrace. Resigning yourself to your inability to fight, you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek. It was almost comforting if not for the gnawing unease beneath the surface of your mind.

As he carried you to the bathroom, his voice broke the silence, low and soothing. “Satoru’s coming home today,” he said, his tone so calm, so casual, that it sent a chill down your spine. “He’s going to be so proud of the progress we made, yeah?”

The words hung in the air, their weight suffocating.

The day stretched on in a blur, and though Suguru remained by your side, tending to you with a gentleness that felt far too intimate, you couldn’t shake the words he’d spoken.

Satoru’s coming home today. He’s going to be so proud of the progress we made.

Each passing moment only tightened the knot in your stomach, the uneasy anticipation building to a crescendo by the time the front door opened with Satoru’s familiar sing-song call.

“My sweet sugar bears, I’m home!”

His voice echoed through the apartment, bright and teasing as always, but it carried a weight that hadn’t been there before. You stiffened, clutching the edges of the blanket Suguru had wrapped around you as you sat on the couch, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suguru, seated beside you with a calm, almost serene expression, stood and moved to greet him. “Welcome back,” he said, his tone warm and inviting.

Satoru appeared moments later, his bright cerulean eyes sweeping over the room before landing on you. His grin widened, mischievous and utterly unapologetic.

“There’s my girl,” he said, striding over and crouching in front of you. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. “Missed you.”

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say as his gaze lingered on you, almost too intently.

Then he turned his attention to Suguru, who was now leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched the interaction unfold.

“And you,” Satoru said, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “You really outdid yourself this time, Sugu.”

Suguru inclined his head slightly, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m glad you think so. She was… responsive.”

Your stomach twisted at the way they spoke, as if you weren’t even there—or worse, as if you were some sort of project they’d been collaborating on.

Satoru’s attention flicked back to you, and his grin softened into something almost affectionate. “I loved the video,” he said, his voice low as he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “You looked so perfect for him, baby. It made me jealous.”

Your blood ran cold.

“The—video?” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling as your mind raced to catch up.

Satoru tilted his head, his grin widening again as he straightened. “Oh, come on, don’t play coy now,” he teased, reaching out to ruffle your hair like you were some pet he was fond of. “You knew about the camera, didn’t you? Suguru said you even looked right at it.”

Suguru’s chuckle was low, almost inaudible, but it caused your chest to tighten. Throat to clench up, you suddenly wanted to cry. 

“We’ll have to make more next time,” Satoru continued, his tone light, almost playful, like he was discussing something as mundane as dinner plans. His grin stretched wide, carefree, but his words carried a weight that left your chest tight. “But don’t worry—I’ll be in the next one. No way I’m missing out again.”

The floor beneath you might as well have disappeared. The weight of their words pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, and your heart hammered as panic welled in your chest.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling. “No, this isn’t… This isn’t right. You can’t just—”

Suguru stepped forward, his movements unhurried, deliberate. His dark eyes locked onto yours, unreadable yet brimming with a quiet intensity that made your skin prickle. He stopped just behind Satoru, his presence looming, steady.

“We’re a team, after all,” he said softly, his voice smooth and calm, like he was explaining something obvious. “It’s only fair we share.”

“No,” you said again, louder this time. The word came out sharp, cutting through the air like a blade, though your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t normal, Satoru, Suguru—this isn’t love.”

For a moment, the room seemed to freeze, the weight of your words hanging in the tense silence.

Suguru’s lips curled into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Is that what you think?” he asked, his tone soft, almost disappointed. He tilted his head slightly, his dark hair spilling over his shoulder as he regarded you with something akin to pity. “You think this isn’t love?”

“Yes,” you said, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your confidence. “This isn’t right. You’re asking too much—this isn’t something I can give.”

Suguru took another step closer, his gaze unwavering. “And what do you think love is, then?” he asked, his voice low, coaxing. “Is it not trust? Devotion? Sacrifice?” He leaned in slightly, his presence suffocating as his words wrapped around you like a vice. “After everything Satoru and I have done for you, everything we’ve given you as of late—are you really saying we don’t deserve your love in return?”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words sinking into your chest like stones. You had to swallow back your tears. “That’s not what I—”

“But it is,” Suguru interrupted, his voice never rising, never breaking its calm, steady cadence. “You’re saying no to us. To him. To me. After everything we’ve done to keep you safe, to give you the life you have now.”

You’d be nothing without them. You almost owe your life to Satoru alone. 

His words twisted in your mind, sharp and cutting, making you question the thoughts you’d clung to just moments before. He stepped even closer, his dark eyes softening, his tone shifting to something almost tender. “Do you really think it’s fair to push us away when all we want is to love you? To care for you? To protect you?”

Your lips parted, but the words died in your throat.

Satoru crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his cerulean eyes wide and impossibly soft. “Don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice heartbreakingly gentle. “Because if you do, baby, then you can love us.”

Suguru nodded, his smile warming into something deceptively kind. “We’re not asking for much,” he murmured. “Just for you to trust us. To let us take care of you. Isn’t that what love is about?”

The room spun, their words swirling in your mind, drowning out the panic that had gripped you moments before. Their voices, so soothing, so insistent, chipped away at your resolve, making you question everything you thought you knew.

“Shh, you’re cryin’,” Satoru said softly, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch gentle as he wiped your hot frustrated tears. “Don’t overthink it, baby. Just let us love you. That’s all we want.”

Suguru’s hand came to rest lightly on your shoulder, his grip firm but not forceful, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You don’t want to disappoint us, do you? Satoru has given you everything. Don’t you think you owe us this much?”

The words struck deep, guilt twisting in your chest as you struggled to breathe.

They loved you. This is love, right?

[moonlight-joy]

A Mystery Benefactor

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: The BAU team begins to notice Spencer Reid’s sudden upgrade in accessories—an expensive watch, a designer satchel—sparking curiosity. When Garcia delivers a package containing a luxury tie and a note signed Love, Y/N, the truth unravels: Spencer has a mystery benefactor—his wealthy girlfriend. The team demands answers, and the next day, you arrive at the office, effortlessly charming everyone. Over dinner, they interrogate you about your wealth, teasing Spencer mercilessly. Despite his embarrassment, it’s clear—he’s completely smitten, and you have every intention of spoiling him for a long time.

Pairing: Reader/Spencer Reid

The first time the team noticed something was different about Spencer, it was subtle. A new watch—sleek, expensive-looking, but nothing too flashy. Derek Morgan had squinted at it during a briefing, noting how it gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

“New watch, pretty boy?” Morgan teased, nudging Spencer’s arm.

Spencer, who had been flipping through a case file, blinked and quickly tucked his wrist under the table. “Uh, yeah. Just something I—uh—picked up.”

JJ raised an eyebrow. “Picked up? Since when do you shop for anything that isn’t books?”

Spencer hesitated. He wasn’t exactly great at lying, so he just hummed noncommittally and went back to his papers. The team shared a look but let it go.

Then came the new leather satchel, replacing the beat-up messenger bag he had used since his first year at the BAU.

Emily eyed it curiously. “Is that… designer?”

Spencer looked down at the smooth, high-quality leather and gulped. “I… I don’t know.”

Morgan let out a low whistle. “Kid, that bag costs at least a thousand bucks.”

“That’s… that’s a lot, huh?” Spencer winced.

“Reid, where the hell are you getting all this stuff?” Rossi asked, giving him a knowing look. “Did you finally take my advice and start playing poker again?”

Hotch, though focused on his paperwork, raised an eyebrow at that. Spencer shook his head rapidly. “No! No gambling.”

More murmurs from the team. The mystery of Spencer’s sudden upgrade in accessories continued.

But it wasn’t until Garcia waltzed in holding a package that things got even more suspicious.

“Ooooh, my genius bean, something arrived for you!” she sang, setting a box on the table in front of him. It was wrapped elegantly, the brand logo discreet but expensive.

The team practically hovered as Spencer hesitated before peeling the wrapping away. Inside was a stunning silk tie in deep purple, along with a handwritten note.

Wear this tonight. Miss you. - Love, Y/N

Spencer’s ears went red.

Morgan snatched the note before Spencer could react. His eyebrows shot up. “Who the hell is Y/N?”

Emily leaned in. “Are we missing something? A girlfriend, maybe?”

The room went silent.

Spencer, realizing he was very much caught, fidgeted. “Uh…”

The team exploded.

“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!”

“How did we not know this?!”

“Wait, wait, wait. She’s the one buying you all this fancy stuff?!”

Spencer cleared his throat. “She… she enjoys treating me, yeah.”

Morgan shook his head, amused. “Damn, pretty boy. You’ve been holding out on us. Who is this mysterious sugar mama?”

Spencer groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. “She’s not a sugar mama. She’s just… well-off.”

“How well-off?” Rossi asked, smirking.

Spencer hesitated before mumbling, “Very.”

“Ohhh, we need to meet her,” Garcia grinned.

Spencer sighed, already regretting everything.

***

The BAU team didn’t have to wait long. The very next day, as they wrapped up their morning meeting, an unexpected visitor strolled into the bullpen.

You walked in confidently, dressed sharply, carrying a small bag in your hand. The team barely had time to react before Spencer spotted you, his eyes going wide.

“Oh no,” he mumbled under his breath.

Morgan, Emily, and JJ all turned at once.

“Is that…?” JJ started.

“Ohhh, she’s gorgeous,” Garcia whispered, fanning herself dramatically.

You smiled as you reached Spencer’s desk. “Hey, handsome,” you greeted, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

Morgan’s jaw dropped. “No. Way.”

Spencer coughed, his entire face heating up. “Um. Guys. This is… uh, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Girlfriend?” Rossi repeated with amusement. “More like mystery benefactor.”

You chuckled, holding up the bag. “Actually, I just came to drop off his lunch. He left it at home.”

Hotch, who had been observing with a rare smirk, finally spoke. “So, Y/N, should we be expecting more luxury deliveries for Dr. Reid?”

You grinned. “I do like spoiling him.”

Morgan shook his head in disbelief. “I gotta ask—how did you two even meet?”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable. “We met at a lecture I was giving a year ago. She—”

“I thought he was adorable,” you finished for him, smiling. “So I asked him out.”

JJ looked between the two of you, impressed. “And let me guess—he said no at first?”

You laughed. “Oh, absolutely. But I was persistent.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “Persistent and wealthy. Kid, you hit the jackpot.”

Spencer groaned, covering his face again.

Emily leaned back in her chair. “Alright, Y/N, I think it’s time for the real question. Just how well-off are we talking?”

You glanced at Spencer, who gave you a pleading look. Smiling mischievously, you reached into your bag and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them to Morgan.

He caught them and stared. “Wait. This is…” His eyes flicked to you in shock. “You drive an Aston Martin?”

You winked. “One of them.”

The team erupted into laughter and disbelief, while Spencer simply sighed in surrender.

***

That evening, the team insisted on taking you out for dinner to “interrogate” you properly. They chose a fancy restaurant, much to Spencer’s dismay.

Garcia, grinning, leaned in the moment you sat down. “So, Y/N, I have to know—what is it about our dear Spencer that caught your attention?”

You smiled at your boyfriend, who was already looking like he wanted to disappear into his seat. “Oh, that’s easy. He’s brilliant, kind, and the most fascinating man I’ve ever met.”

Spencer coughed. “I—uh, well—”

Morgan smirked. “And the fact that he looks like a model in a lab coat?”

You laughed. “That doesn’t hurt.”

Hotch, ever the observer, finally spoke up. “Spencer mentioned you were… very well-off.”

You sipped your drink before nodding. “That’s true.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Like ‘comfortable’ well-off, or ‘private jet’ well-off?”

You gave Spencer a knowing look before shrugging. “Somewhere in between.”

Morgan whistled. “Damn, pretty boy, you really did win the lottery.”

Spencer groaned again as the team laughed.

As the night went on, you fit right in with the BAU family. They teased Spencer mercilessly, but you could tell they adored him just as much as you did. And despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t stop sneaking little glances at you, his expression soft with affection.

By the end of the evening, Garcia threw her arms around you. “You’re officially one of us now, sugar mama.”

Spencer groaned. “She’s not a sugar mama!”

Morgan grinned. “Right, right. Just a very generous, very wealthy girlfriend who buys our boy luxury gifts.”

You squeezed Spencer’s hand under the table, smiling. “And I plan to keep spoiling him for a long time.”

The team cheered, Spencer turned bright red, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time they teased him about you.

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[martiniblues]

JUNO , spencer reid

pairing boyfriend!spencer x fem!reader

synopsis while babysitting henry for jj, spencer’s seeming disinterest with children starts to shift. this makes your mind wonder into unfamiliar territory you and spencer hadn’t spoken of yet: kids.

genre talks of pregnancy and children (duh), very suggestive towards the end but no smut, this is very self indulgent since i can’t get this song or spencer off my mind so here you go lol.

wc 2k?? (i got a little carried away)

“sorry for this being so last minute!" jj scrambled, passing henry over to you along with his diaper bag. the blonde ran a hand through her short hair, adjusting from where the two-year-old played with it upon their arrival. 

“it’s all good, seriously. you know how much i love babysitting this cute thing.” you tickled henry’s side, making him squirm. 

jj’s eyes averted to the figure behind you, pursing her lips. “you sure he’s okay with this?” you turned your head, noticing spencer trying to look at the two of you without being noticed. 

it’s not that spencer didn’t like kids; it’s just hard to know how to talk to them when you were a child genius. 

you turned back to jj, attempting to ease her worry. “he’ll come around to it.” you shrugged, knowing that spencer would either sit and observe or fully engage. no in between.

after bidding your goodbyes, you walked over to spencer, taking a seat beside him on the couch. “so what should we do, little man?” you perched henry in your lap, resting your feet on the coffee table so he could sit against your perched thighs. 

spencer looked at you as if he were the “little man” in question. henry just babbled, throwing his arms around as you cooed. “what do we do with him?” spencer asked, leaning closer into your shoulder to inspect the baby in your lap. 

you laughed at his seriousness, turning to look at your boyfriend. “have you never been around a baby in your life or something?” you teased, lifting henry so he was closer to you both.

“did you know that babies are born with about seventy reflexes? that’s why when you place a baby on a surface to stand, they automatically start doing a stepping motion.” he spoke, watching henry kick his legs as you stood him on your lap. you looked over at him quizzically. “for someone who’s so awkward around babies, you sure do know a lot about them.” 

spencer flushed slightly, “i just haven’t had the chance to be around any until now.” he nudges your shoulder before crossing his arms. 

“well, here’s your chance.” you held henry out to spencer, which made him squirm and mumble yet again. “hold him while i go bring his bag in here.” 

he hesitated, looking between you and the baby as if this were a test. yet, despite the nervousness, he reached out, mimicking your position earlier. when you were content with how henry laid on spencer’s legs, you walked out of the room.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t purposely take your time collecting his things, wanting spencer to have some alone time with henry. finally satisfied with your departure, you peaked your head into the room, nearly melting at the sight. 

the once stiff and nervous spencer you had left with henry was now replaced with a content, smiling one. his voice went up a few pitches as he responded to henry’s nonsense. “oh wow, really?” his lips were pulled into a smile as he played with him, letting henry’s small hand encase his slender fingers. 

you couldn’t help but let your head wander; how could you not? sure you thought about a future with spencer. a future where you were married and maybe with kids, but you had never brought it up being too nervous to scare spencer off.

but now watching him light up with henry in his lap, you wanted nothing more than for your daydreams to become reality. 

“someone wants you back in here, i think.” you snapped out of your daze, focusing on the two sets of eyes staring at you. both holding the same smiles and wide eyes. 

god, you swore you felt your ovaries jump.

“i see that you two are getting along now.” you placed henry’s diaper bag on the table, sitting yourself on the ground before laying out his blanket and a few toys. spencer joined you, placing henry on his stomach, then laid beside you, mirroring the baby’s position. 

“who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?” you laughed, in awe of how much spencer had adjusted to the small being in just a matter of minutes.

he looked up at you as he shook a little plushie in front of henry’s face. “sorry to disappoint, but this is still your boyfriend,” spencer quipped before you pushed his head jokingly, messing up his hair in the process. 

the sound of high-pitched squeals took both of your attentions away from one another. there henry lay, clapping his hands in favor of you and spencer’s playful fighting. 

“yeah, you like when i show him who’s boss, huh?” you caressed the soft skin of henry’s cheek, making him giggle. spencer sighed, “come on, man, i thought we were really becoming friends” he exasperated, laying his head in his hands dramatically.

this only brought more squeals from the baby, making your cheeks almost grow sore from how hard you were smiling. 

“awe spence, it’s okay.” you egged on your act by petting his hair back into place. this caused your boyfriend to lift his head; a big pout on his lips made yours perk up. 

with your attention being taken away from henry by spencer’s rare expression, you hadn’t noticed the stuffed animal caught between the baby’s hands. before you could do anything, the small bear was chucked into spencer’s face, causing an uproar of noises from henry.

“i’m starting to question this whole babysitting thing.” spencer winced, looking at you as you laughed along with henry. 

 

despite the teasing from earlier, spencer continued to be enamored with henry. him even insisting he help feed and change him when time came.

the whole ordeal feeling so domestic, apart of you wished jj could have spent a couple more days for her and will in favor of you seeing spencer like this for longer.

“thank you, again for taking care of him.” jj propped her hip against the counter as she fumbled for her phone out of her purse.

“of course, it really was no problem.” you turned at the sound of spencer’s soft voice, thanking henry for “helping” him clean.

“honestly, i think someone enjoyed this a bit more than we thought.” you gestured at spencer as he settled henry on his hip, the baby grasping onto his button-up shirt. 

your whole body ran hot at sight. spencer looked really good as a pretend dad. 

“no kidding, the team is going to flip when i show them the pictures you took of them.” she glanced at her phone, noting the off-guard photos you stole of spencer and henry. 

one was of him feeding him as he walked around the living room, another of him explaining some of the books organized on his shelves in a very formal fashion despite henry’s lack of knowledge, and finally one of them eye-to-eye playing on the floor with various toys. 

your heart swelled looking back at them, the questions you had been so careful not to ask begging to be verbalized. 

before you could sink any further, spencer came over, handing jj henry and his bag almost reluctantly. noticing the time, jj was quick to leave in order to keep the baby’s sleeping schedule on track but thanked you guys repeatedly before finally closing the door. 

clicking the lock shut, you mentally prepared yourself for the words about to come out of your mouth. 

“you had more fun than you bargained for, didn’t you?” you met spencer on the couch, him reaching out to pull your legs over his, making your heart leap. 

“i did, actually.” spencer began smoothing his hands up and down your calf before continuing. “honestly when you mentioned henry coming over, i was a little- i don’t know scared? i just didn’t want to disappoint him or you.” he bit his lip like he was stopping himself from letting the whole truth out. 

“oh spence, you were perfect. honestly, i’m very proud of you.” you reached out, caressing the side of his face, causing him to look at you. 

he noticed your wondering eyes, waiting for you to continue. “actually i um…” you shifted pulling your legs under yourself so you could sit up. 

breathing in deeply, you continued, “today kind of got me thinking about us and our future.” spencer was looking at you with such admiration that you had fixed your gaze on your hands.

“i know we haven’t really brought it up before, but seeing you and henry today had me-“ 

before you could finish, spencer’s lips were pressed against yours, resulting in a shocked gasp from you. he kissed you, mumbling words each time his lips parted to take yours in again. 

“i want that, i really do.” he breathed, finally separating from you for just a moment. 

“you want what, spence?” you were in shock, to be honest, knowing what he meant but wanting to hear him say it word for word. 

without another word, he positioned you in his lap, legs straddling his own. “i want a family with you. i want a sliver of what we had today to become ours one day.” his eyes didn’t break from yours, his pupils blown wide and sparkly.

for the thousandth time that day, you had to bite back a smile. “you mean that?” you questioned, one hand coming to comb through his hair and the other resting on his neck. 

he kissed your cheek, forehead, nose, and finally your lips before he spoke. “every single one. i mean, one of you is cute.” he cupped your cheek as he spoke. “but two though? that’s something.” he finished, smirking at you. 

you couldn’t contain your happiness, crashing his lips to yours again feverishly. even though you knew the both of you were in no place to have a kid now, there was no harm in playing with the fantasy for now. 

even if the real thing wouldn’t come to be for a good few years.

spencer pulled you flush against him, one his hands leaving your hips to trail up your spine and settle onto the back of your neck. a moan slipped past your lips as goosebumps erupted on your skin. 

you pulled on his shirt, hinting at where this was going as if it weren’t obvious to the man beneath you. he looked up at you, kissing you once more before dragging you to your shared bed. 

your blouse and shorts were off before your back hit the sheets, spencer still standing ahead of you unbuttoning his work shirt. 

you sat up on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to take over. after each undone button, you kissed his skin, making him gasp as his fingers raked through your hair. 

pulling his shirt all the way off, you made your way to his pants, pulling him closer by his belt loop. you bit your lip, noticing the gears turning in his head.

“you know statistics say missionary or doggy are the best positions to get pregnant in.” spencer let out in shallow breaths as his belt clinked on the floor. 

“oh, yeah and why is that genius?” you leaned back on your elbows while spencer finished removing himself of his pants. he took you in, the tiny pink bow on your underwear made spencer rethink his crude response. 

“deeper penetration,” he said almost too smoothly, making you laugh. it was hard to take statistics seriously when you were both nearly naked. 

before he could settle above you, you shimmied up the bed. ridding yourself of the rest of your clothes, you positioned yourself on your hands. looking over your shoulder, you saw the way spencer’s eyes widened in shock.

“have you ever tried this one?”

my first spencer fic omg. lowk crazy because i’ve been obsessed with this man since the ripe age of 12 but here we are. will probably be writing a lot more of him since im rewatching cm at the moment so stay tuned! request box is always open <333

[enha-stars]

Meddle About ; P. Jongseong

I'd take you back to my house, so we could meddle about

Pairing: Boyfriend!Jay x F!Reader

Synopsis: Jay’s been a bit busy at work and hasn’t given you the attention you deserve, and now, you’re making him work for it. No problem, he loves the chase. (7.7k)

Warnings: Porn with almost no plot at all, SMUT, p in v, MDNI, alcohol, clubbing, kissing, praise, fluff, minor exhibitionism (in da club), oral (fem), spit, reader is shorter than jay, overstimulation, teasing, pet names, yn lowkey a brat, (minor) brat!tamer Jay, reader has long-ish hair, fingering, think that’s it! 

A/N: Gasp! She’s alive! Yes, I am. Barely. But! I wanted to get something out before Ramadan (lol) and originally Jake's hands were making me feel some type of way but then Jay... yeah. Anyways. Enjoy! Sorry if it sucks. Reblogs appreciated!

The warm steam still clings to your skin as you step out of the bathroom, a towel loosely wrapped around your body. Your damp hair drips onto your bare shoulders as you walk into your dimly lit bedroom, the soft glow of the city skyline filtering through the window. A slow, sultry beat hums through your speaker, something from your ‘Sexy Nite’ playlist that you can’t even name but it lulls you to sway your hips in rhythm, moving to the vanity. 

You take your time, dragging a shimmering body oil over your legs, watching the sheen catch the low light. The scent of vanilla and amber lingers in the air as you smooth it over your collarbones, letting the moment stretch, relishing in the quiet anticipation of the night ahead. It has been a busy week, meetings and presentations getting the best of you, but for now, it’s just you, the music, and the slow, deliberate ritual of getting ready. 

A night out on a warm Friday was all you needed to drown out the misery and exhaustion of the week. You weren’t originally going to accept, choosing to stay home with your boyfriend but when he texted you, letting you know that his meetings are running later than usual, you accepted the invitation. 

You slip into a purple lace bralette, fingers trailing along the delicate fabric, thinking back to the time you had first bought it, the way it was gently stripped from your body by Jay, his eyes lingering on it, long enough for you to buy a few more. You reach for the top draped over your chair and just as you’re about to pull it over your head, you hear a faint click of the front door unlocking. 

Then, footsteps. 

“Baby?” Jongseong’s voice, low and tired from the day, echoes down the hall. At the sound of his voice, one you hadn’t had the chance to hear today, your lips curved into a small smile, an ease settling into your bones. 

Before you can respond, he steps into the doorway and his eyes land on you, frozen mid-motion, the top still halfway in your hands. You turn to face him, a soft smile on your lips, and his gaze, once tired, darkens, slowly raking over your figure. The exhaustion from his day evaporates instantly, replaced by something huskier, something that makes the air in the room heavier, despite the seeping steam from the bathroom. 

“Shit” he exhales, his voice thick with something you recognize all too well. His tie is already loosened, sleeves pushed up, but now his fingers flex at his sides, like he’s debating whether to close the space between you. 

He hasn’t seen you all day, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as he ran out the door this morning. He’s missed you, he always misses you, so as soon as his meeting finished, he flew out the door and sped home, hoping to catch you before you left. 

A smirk tugs at your lips as you slip the top over your head, watching his jaw tighten, his eyes lingering a second too long. You bought this top, black and lace, with him a few weeks ago. He made you try it on and then he took it off you in the changing room, mumbling against your skin about how beautiful you looked. 

“Hi, baby. You’re home early,” you murmur, turning back towards the mirror, pretending not to notice the way he’s still looking at you like he wants to ruin your plans for the night. You would’ve let him, but you were feeling a bit mean tonight. 

Jay exhales a slow, amused breath, leaning against the doorframe, head tilted slightly as he watches you. You catch his eye in the mirror briefly and have to look away instantly because the heat in his eyes, the love and promise, was enough to make you cave. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Lucky me.” 

He blinks slowly, trying to ease the want and desire that drips out of him. He’s not sure why he’s having such a visceral reaction to you, but he knows it could be anything. A combination of your body wash, the sight of you in that top, or just you, looking so pretty and relaxed. 

You pretend not to notice the way Jay’s gaze lingers, hot and unrelenting, as you turn back toward the chair where the rest of your outfit is laid out. The music pulses through the room, wrapping around you like a second skin, heightening the thick tension that settled in the room. 

With knowing slowness, you reach for your mini skirt, sliding it up your legs inch by inch, smoothing the fabric over your hips. It’s a little tight, tighter than you would like, but with the way his eyes were drinking you in, you knew you couldn’t change it. You can feel his stare like a touch, burning into every movement you make. The hemline barely covers what it should, and when you glance at him through the mirror’s reflection, his jaw is locked tight, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip like he’s trying to keep himself in check. 

You loved this look on him, the loose constraint, the way his lips were pinched tightly, almost as tight as his jaw. It made his tanned skin glisten, the veins in his arms making an appearance. He looked absolutely edible. 

Jay breathes sharply, then lifts his hands to his collar, tugging his tie looser with slow, measured movements. The silk slides between his fingers as he pulls it off completely, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watches you shift, adjusting your skirt in place. He has half a mind to usher you to bed, using his tie to keep you from squirming. 

“That’s the outfit for tonight?” His voice is rough, deeper than before. His throat is parched and he feels like a bitch in heat but he can’t help it when you look like that, when you look at him like you want to eat him as much as he wants to eat you. 

Your smile twists into an innocent pout and you finally turn to face him. “Yeah. Why? You don’t like it?” You can see the physical evidence of how much he likes it, but you wanna hear it. 

Jay lets out a low chuckle, but there’s no humour in it—just heat, thick and dark in his tone. He pushes off the doorframe and takes his time walking further into the room, every step heavier than the last, like a predator closing in. 

“I like it,” he answers quietly, eyes never leaving you.

“You look beautiful.” 

He sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, one arm resting on his knee while the other rakes through his hair. He looks devastating like his—tie abandoned, top buttons undone, sleeves pushed up, the definition of dangerous, divine, and delicious. You want nothing more than to push him back on the bed and kiss his skin, knowing how he’d taste. Like oakwood and sweat. 

You swallow the lump of heat in your throat, heart thrumming in sync with the low string-heavy song playing. “Are you going to shower? I thought you were tired.” You were baiting him, he knew it, but he couldn’t help but want the hook anyways. 

Jay tilts his head, watching you carefully. “I was.” His lips curl into a smile, something sinful. “Then I walked in on my girl looking like this. And suddenly, I’m not so tired anymore.”

You step towards the vanity, pretending to focus on your jewelry, but the weight of his gaze makes it impossible to do anything. He’s in full control of the room without even trying, and when he leans back slightly, one arm keeping him up and one running a hand along his thigh, you know exactly where this is going.

“You weren’t planning on coming,” you say, reminding him as you fasten a gold necklace around your neck, one he had bought you for your birthday. 

Jay hums in agreement, rubbing his jaw, his fingers grazing his bottom lip. “Changed my mind.” 

You raise a brow at him through the mirror, amusement and knowingness dancing in your expression. “Oh? And why’s that?” 

His tongue swipes across his lip again before he finally stands, closing the space between you in a few strides. His hands find your waist, fingers grazing the bare skin between your top and skirt, pulling you in just enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. 

“Because,” he says, his lips brushing just over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “There’s no way in hell I’d miss seeing you in this little outfit.” 

Your fingers play with the strings of your top, struggling to breathe for a moment before you meet his eyes in the mirror, the heat of his body seeping into yours. His scent wraps around you like a second skin and you breathe him in. 

“Hook this for me?” You ask him, voice softer now, laced with something breathless. You push your hair to one side, exposing your semi-bare back to him.

Jay exhales through his nose, a quiet but familiar sound, but you hear the way his breath stutters slightly. His hands find your back, warm and steady as he sliders the clasp into place. His touch lingers, fingers grazing along the curve of your spine before trailing lower, skimming over the exposed skin above your skirt. 

“Are you doing this on purpose or am I losing mind?” His voice is rough, strained.

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing a smirk, but before you can say anything, his hands tighten on your waist, pulling you back until your spine meets his chest. You gasp, just slightly, but he catches it, revels in it. 

“Missed you, baby,” he breathes, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just behind your ear. “I’m sorry I’ve been so fucking busy. Haven’t had a second to touch you.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine but settle your heart. You had been busy too, but you were still home sooner than him and he knew it. His hands start to roam, slow, pressing, like he’s relearning every inch of you. The tension between you both becomes suffocating. He palms your hips, thumbs pressing into the dip of your waist before sliding down over your thighs, gripping at the soft flesh. 

Before you can react, he moves.

In one smooth motion, he forces you to step back with him, turning you, and pulls you down onto his lap, your back flush against his chest. His hands find their place again, gripping, kneading, taking his time. You feel him everywhere. The heat, the need, the way he’s been holding back for days. 

You press your hands against his thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress pants. Your head falls back just as his hands inch towards your breasts. Your mouth feels dry and there’s heat pooling in your stomach. 

With one firm movement, he lifts you slightly, maneuvering you off his lap and onto the bed, your ass hitting the plush covers. A small whimper escapes your mouth, so incredibly turned on by his sheer strength, the way his entire body reacts to you. Just as you blink away the need that clouds your eyes, Jay sinks down to his knees in front of you, his hands slowly trailing down your thighs as he looks up at you, spreading your legs so he slots himself between them. 

Your breath hitches. “Jay–” There’s need in your voice, clear as day, and he smiles at you sweetly, a dark contrast with the blistering heat in his eyes. 

His fingers press into your thighs as his lips ghost over the inside of your knee. “Please?” 

You wet your lips and almost nod, but just as his lips press against the skin of your knee, you inched your foot up and pressed it against his chest, pushing him back. He looks up at you with bright eyes. 

“I don’t wanna be late, Jay. If you’re coming with me then you need to change.” You cup his cheek and stand, sliding your hand into his hair and patting his head. You brush your calf against him as you walk back into the vanity, picking up your rings. 

You watch him through the mirror, the way his shoulders drop and he exhales a long breath. He pushes himself up and glances at you, unbuttoning his shirt. His smile is sharp, borderline threatening. 

“Whatever you say, princess.” 

The city lights blur past in neon streaks as Jay drives, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rests on your bare thigh. His fingers flex every so often, tightening slightly, like he’s reminding himself that you’re right there. That he can touch, but only so much. 

He knows the game you’re playing. He knows you're teasing him, testing him, simply riling him up so when he does taste you, when he does slide into you, you’ll understand how much he misses you, how much he loves you. 

You shift, crossing your legs deliberately, your skirt riding up just enough to make his grip tighten. Just because he knows what you’re doing and that he accepts it, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t effect him. He’s losing his mind.

He doesn’t look at you, just clenches his jaw, the muscle feathering under his skin as his fingers press into your thigh. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he mutters, voice low and dark. 

You hum, leaning slightly towards him. “Maybe.”

Jay exhales a loud breath, adjusting his grip on the wheel, but you see the way his knuckles whiten. He still wants to be here with you, still wants to play along, even as frustration simmers just beneath the surface. He’s not sure how long he can last. 

When he finally pulls into the club’s parking lot, the tension between you is thick, electric. The second the car is in park, Jay shakes his head, lips twitching in amusement. “You’re a menace.”

Instead of answering him, you lean forward and press a soft kiss to the edge of his lips. “I’m glad you’re here, Jay.” 

His eyes and exterior soften and he lifts his hand, resting it gently on your cheek. He brushes the skin under your eyes lightly, afraid he might mess up your makeup, and guides your lips to his. 

The kiss is soft, his pink lips moving against your glossy ones. He pulls away too quickly, like he’s afraid he won’t be able to stop if it continues. “Me too, baby.” 

The moment you step inside, the club’s atmosphere crashes into you–thich bass pounding through the floor, music loud enough to drown out every other sound. The air is heavy with heat, bodies moving in sync, the scent of liquor and perfume mixing together in a way that makes your head spin. 

You’re glad you’re busy enough to only accept a few invitations a month, if that. The club scene isn’t one you love, but it is nice once in a while. 

Jay moves behind you, a steady presence as you weave through the packed space. His hand finds your lower back, warm and firm as he presses against you, guiding you through the throng of bodies towards the bar, where your friends are waiting. 

Jake and Sunghoon spot you first, both grinning as you approach. Jake pulls you into a quick hug as Sunghoon slaps Jay on the back, teasing him about his new promotion. Letting you go, Sunghoon pulls you into a quick hug and only frowns when you mess up his hair a bit. Jake has his arm around Jay’s shoulder, a bright smile on his face. 

“Glad you could make it, dude,” Sunghoon says, a small smile on his face. “It’s been a while.” 

You watch as Jay’s shoulders relax, as the music enters his skin and the stress melts from his body. His smile is genuine and your heart flutters at the sight. “Thanks, man.” 

Before you can say anything, Jay leans in, Jake’s arm dropping, his lips brushing against your ear, voice thick and warm against your skin. “I’ll get our drinks,” he murmurs, his hand giving your waist one last squeeze before he pulls away. 

You nod, barely getting the chance to respond before Giselle suddenly appears, grabbing your wrist with a bright, excited grin. “Y/n! You’re here! Come on,” she shouts over the music, eyes gleaming. “We’re dancing.” 

You only have enough time to toss Jake your purse before she’s pulling you into the sweaty crowd. She pushes through bodies with her elbows until she reaches Karina, shouting your arrival. Karina pulls you into a quick hug and immediately starts swaying her hips.

The music takes over, and soon, you’re moving, letting go. The bass pulses in your chest, and the rhythm controls your every step. Giselle laughs, spinning you, before pulling your hips against hers. Karina quickly finds someone that captures her attention but stays close. You three are completely lost in the music. 

And you don’t notice Jay watching. 

He stands by the bar, drink in hand, but his gaze is locked onto you, his grip tightening around his glass as he slowly brings it to his lips. The club’s neon lights flicker across his sharp features, highlighting the way his eyes darken as he watches you move. 

It’s like you’re completely unaware of the effect you have on him. But he knows that you know. 

Jake and Sunghoon notice. Jake nudges Sunghoon, tilting his head towards Jay. “Dude, look at him.” 

Sunghoon raises a brow. “Oh, he’s completely whipped.” They both snicker, knowing what he would have said if he had heard their conversation. 

Jay doesn’t even register them. 

Because you’ve just caught his gaze. 

And you smile.

It’s subtle, enticing, but it’s enough. His jaw flexes again and before he can think twice, he throws back the rest of his drink, setting the empty glass down with finality. 

To Jake and Sunghoon’s shock, Jay moves. He mutters something about your drink, how he’ll buy you a new one, and moves through the crowd, through the flashing lights and moving bodies, straight to you.

You don’t notice at first, not until you feel the warmth of his hands, strong and sure, as they find your hips from behind. You can recognize him by touch alone and a sharp inhale catches in your throat as he pulls you back against him, pressing close, the heat of his body settling against yours. 

“You’re fucking killing me here, princess.” His voice is low, right against your ear, thick with amusement and something darker. 

You smile, pressing yourself into him as you roll your hips in time with the music. “Took you long enough.” 

He laughs quietly, fingers tightening around you. You bring your hand to his neck as he moves against you, not as smooth, but still to the beat. He’s pushing your back flush against his chest and when your ass perfectly brushes against his hard-on, his hips jerk into you. 

Gasping, you spin in his arms, needing to look at him, needing to watch the way his eyes dance with different emotions, so much more expressive than the rest of him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he slots one of his legs in between yours. 

He’s guiding your hips back and forth, finding his own rhythm. His jean-clad thigh brushes closely against your pussy and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. He watches you carefully, taking in every single twitch of muscle and movement. His grin widens when you start playing with the hair at his nape, pulling him closer, until your lips are just shy of touching. His breath is heavy, warm against your mouth, and his eyes make your stomach clench in want. 

His hands slide lower, fingers splaying over the small of your back before he drags them down your ass, squeezing once. Your head falls into the crook of his neck and the friction, the heat, its dizzying, almost too much, but not enough all at once. 

“You’re driving me fucking crazy, Y/n. You know that?”His thumb dips below your skirt and massages the skin there. His breath is hot against your ear as he angles his body, making sure his dick rubs right against your pussy. “Bet you’re just as wet for me as I am for you.”

He nibbles on your ear, dragging his tongue across the lobe. 

You tilt your head up, eyes glazed. You knew what you were getting into when you pushed Jay away back home, but you didn’t think he’d let you continue your little game. You should have known better. Here you were, underwear almost ruined as he nips and licks your skin. 

He uses one of his hands to lift you a little higher, presses you harder against him as his fingers graze the skin of your inner thigh. “Will you let me check, baby?” His voice is sinful, borderline gravel. 

You can only nod, too buzzed by the music and his scent, the heat of his body, to answer him. You knew if you opened your mouth, you’d moan out his name and you had some shame. Even without any alcohol, your mind was hazy, overcome by lust and desire. 

Jay smirks against your head as you continue to grind against him. There’s so many bodies pressed up against you both but he only cares about you, about the way your nails dig into his scalp as his fingers inch closer to your heat. 

He can feel the slight stickiness before he reaches your cunt and he bites back a groan. Here he was, losing his mind, and you were dripping for him on a dance floor. Matching your pace, he waits until your hips press against his pelvis and then he brushes his index finger against your underwear, eyes rolling into the back of his at how wet you are. 

He does it once more, arm tightening around you as your legs shake. He doesn’t press hard enough to offer you any relief, simply brushes against it featherly, but it's enough to coat both his fingers.

He removes his hand, dropping your skirt before lifting it to his mouth. You watch him with wide eyes, a sight to behold. He looks so sinful, lips curved into a devilish smile as the lights bounce on his sweaty skin. 

His arm is still around your waist as he lowers his slick coated fingers to your lips, a full blown smile spreading on his face when you tilted your head, mouth parting in invitation. He touches your bottom lip with his fingers before sticking them in his mouth. His eyes flutter at the taste and you watch with dazed amazement as he sucks his fingers clean, eyes hooded as they stare you down. 

You can’t help the small whimper that leaves your mouth and it has Jay surging forward, capturing your lips with his. His lips move roughly against yours, nothing like the sweet kiss you shared in the car. He licks your bottom lip and slips his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your groan as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

He cups your cheeks and deepens the kiss, not a single thought in his head besides you and how much he loves you and all the things he’d like to do to you. You nip at his lips before kissing down his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to keep still as you suck on his skin. When you lick his skin once more, he knows he’s had enough.  

Threading his fingers into your hair, he pulls as gently as he can to pull you away from his skin. You look up at him with plump lips, covered in spit, eyes wide and blinking. He tilts your head and kisses you once before his lips are pressed against your ears. 

“Please, princess, let’s go home. Let me take care of you properly.” Despite the desire that drips from his words, you hear the plea, the need. He’s never, not once, let things get this far before he’s made you cum on his tongue. 

Hurriedly, you nod at him, your own need evident in the way you clutch his shirt. “Yes, okay, let’s go.” Hand still on the neck of his shirt, you step into the crowd but he tugs you back, arm wrapping around you. 

“What about your friends?” His eyebrows are furrowed and you have no idea how he’s thinking about anything that isn’t your pussy or his dick but your eyes soften and you pat his cheek. 

“I’ll text them.” You clear your throat, trying to look as composed as Jay. “Though, they can probably guess.” Eyes raking over him, you take back your words. He doesn’t look composed, not at all. His hair is slightly messy and his thin sweater is all rumpled. 

“Okay, baby,” he says, taking a step forward and guiding you through the sea of bodies, hand in hand. He doesn’t spare Jake and Sunghoon a single look as he pulls his keys out of his jeans. 

Hiding a bright smile, Jake tosses your purse to you and you simply wave, too embarrassed to look them in the eye. Jay rests his hand on your lower back as he guides you out of the club and outside, taking your purse with his other hand. 

Once you get to his car, he looks down at you and there’s a wicked glint in his eyes. He unlocks the car before he places the keys in your hand. You look up at him in question and he shrugs as he opens the driver door for you. 

“I’m drunk.” He states, simply, eyes ablaze. 

You clutch the keys tightly, already coming to terms with his plan. “You had one drink, Jay.” 

He smiles at you, dimple forming. He leans against the car, arms crossed. You swallow, breathing heavily. Under the moonlight, he’s glowing. He looks so handsome, so fucking beautiful and you’re about to lose your mind. 

“There’s still alcohol in my system, baby. Can’t risk your safety, can I?” His words are sweet, but with the way he tilts his head, licking his lips, you know that your safety isn’t the only thing on his mind. 

When your shoulders drop in defeat, he pushes off the door and raises an eyebrow at you. Sighing, you quickly made it to the drivers side and sat in, trying to adjust your skirt. Jay leans down and grabs the seatbelt, face close as he buckles you up. The faint click rings in your ear when his eyes meet yours and before you can lean over and kiss him, he moves back and gently shuts your door. 

You blink at the space he just occupied before taking in a deep breath. It was only a ten minute drive. You could do this. All you had to do was ignore him and the wetness between your legs and then you’d beg him to fuck you. 

Jay slides into the passenger seat and clicks his seatbelt into place. He watches you out of his peripheral vision as you start the car and pull out. He watches the way your throat bobs and your fingers shake on the wheel. 

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue to suppress an amused laugh. You look the way he looked driving here. A small, miniscule part of Jay reveled in it. In the way you kept squeezing your thighs shut, glancing at the rearview mirror when you had the urge to look at him. 

“You okay there, baby?” Jay sounds genuine and you know he is, he always is, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a twinge of mockery in it. 

“Just perfect,” you grit out, turning at the light. 

“Yeah?” He rests his hand on your thigh, an innocent enough gesture if you hadn’t just almost cummed on his fingers in the club. His thumb starts rubbing your skin and you exhale sharply, trying your best to focus on the road. 

His fingers inch towards your heat slowly and you unconsciously spread your legs, skirt hiking up even further. He smiles at the way your body responds to him and grazes his nails close to your cunt. 

“Jay,” you whisper, a bit broken and a bit out of breath. “Please.” You meet his eye for less than a second before gripping the wheel harder, eyes back on the road. 

He leans back in the passenger seat, legs spread. His bulge is incredibly noticeable and it’s taking everything in you not to acknowledge it. His index finger brushes against the soaked and thin fabric and he tsks. “Are you dripping all over my seats, Y/n?” 

You don’t respond and he chuckles, eyes bright. He uses two fingers and slides them across your covered lips, eyes zeroing on the arousal that has soaked your underwear and slowly drips onto his seats. Your legs shake and he presses the palm of his hand into your thigh, keeping you still. 

“Focus on the road,” he murmurs, voice low but curt. It has you squirming but you listen anyways, gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life. 

Slowly, Jay uses his middle finger and hooks your underwear to the side. It’s sticky and ruined and he’ll definitely be pocketing them later, but for now, they’re in the way. He slides his middle finger between your folds, back and forth, mesmerized, before he watches your greedy cunt swallow up his long, bony finger to the knuckle. 

Your entire body jerks forward and a breathy moan escapes your lips, eyes fluttering at the first intrusion into your pussy in days. You’re gasping as Jay slides his finger in and out of your pussy slowly before curling it, pressing just enough pressure to have you leak arousal all over his hand and leather seats. 

Just as he picks up the pace and you almost swerve the car, he pulls out and you yell, tears of frustration on your lash line. He presses on your clit once, grinning ear to ear at the moan that rips out of you. 

He pulls his hand away completely and sticks his finger into his mouth, staring at the side of your head the entire time. He makes sure to make a show out of it, swirling his tongue around just like he would in your cunt, purposefully being noisy. 

You’re shaking, legs trembling as you turn onto your street. The sight of your apartment is enough to have you press down on the gas, not caring about the speed limit or how Jay sighs at your behaviour. 

“Watch your speed, baby. There’s cops on this street.”

He leans closer to you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, fingers brushing against the shell of your ear.

“You’re so fucking mean,” you whisper, voice broken and hoarse. You’re not really thinking as you say it, more focused on pulling into your designated spot without crying or cumming. 

Jay simply raises an eyebrow at your words, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. “Am I?” 

Your heart jumps at his words and you put the car in park. You keep your eyes forward when both of your words registar in your mind and your head snaps to look at him, an apology on the tip of your tongue but he’s already out the door.

You watch helplessly as he rounds the car and opens your door. You say nothing as he undoes your seatbelt and gingerly pulls you out of your seat. You try to ignore the way your thighs stick to the seat or the sheen you leave behind, focusing on Jay’s hand wrapped tightly around yours. 

Wordlessly, he gently guides you inside your building, still holding your purse with that small smile on his face. You look up at him and he looks down at you as you wait for the elevator. You part your lips, ready to apologize, when the doors open and he pulls you in. 

Pressing the button to your floor, he leans against the elevator wall, still holding your hand. You look down at your joined hands, at how soothing it feels to have his strong, slightly calloused hand in yours. Jay watches you, a softer smile on his lips when you bring your joined hands to your lips and kiss his knuckles. 

It says everything you haven’t yet. 

Following your lead, before you can drop your hands, he lifts them to his mouth and kisses your knuckles, eyes staring directly into yours. Then, he kisses the back of your hand before slowly dropping them, eyes focusing on the elevator doors again. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and press yourself into his side. If he wasn’t mean earlier, he definitely will be later. You purse your lips, want and desire leaking out of you, dripping down your legs. 

Finally, the elevator dings open and he’s pulling you towards your apartment, footsteps fast as you try to match his pace. When your door comes into sight you have the urge to fall to your knees and beg Jay for forgiveness. He unlocks the door slowly, turning the key like he has all the time in the world and you unconsciously squeeze his hand in anticipation. 

He pushes the door open and you stop breathing, mouth going dry. He doesn’t turn to look at you as he guides you into your home. You watch as he sets your purse on the little table, along with the keys and his wallet. 

“Jay, baby, I’m–” He cuts you off by turning quickly and slamming his lips against yours, pushing you into the door, a hand on the back of your hand and hip. He swallows your gasp of surprise and kisses you ferociously, pressing his chest against yours. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back just as messily, teeth against teeth. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you clutch at his hair. He sucks on your tongue as he fits his leg between yours, his thigh once again, rubbing against your pussy. 

You can barely breathe but you kiss him deeply, head falling back when he pulls away and begins kissing down your neck, nibbling and licking down your throat, hand unclasping your top and pulling it off of you, only pulling away to pull it off your head. His lips reattach to your neck and he kisses down to your collarbone, biting down on your skin. Your hands tighten in his hair and his grip on your hip becomes bruising. 

You grind on his knee, moaning at the friction. Jay kisses up your neck before capturing your lips in another hated, messy kiss. His hand travels up your body and he slightly presses down on your throat sucking on your tongue before pulling away.

“I wanted to be mean. Show you how mean I really could be,” he pants into your mouth, lips hovering over your swollen, bruised ones. His thigh rubs against your pussy and you whimper, eyes opening. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead before brushing his nose against yours.

“But I missed you, baby. I’ll take care of you, yeah?” His voice is soft, loving, unmistakingly ridden with lust. He begins kissing down your body again, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to the skin above your collarbone before he unclasps your bralette, tossing it on the floor. 

His lips hover over the skin between your breasts and his eyes flicker up, meeting your dazed ones. “Did you miss me, princess?” 

There’s tears in your eyes as you nod, sniffling from the overwhelming urge to cum and bare yourself open to him. “Yes, Jay, Gosh, I missed you so much.” 

He smiles at you before kissing your skin, licking and sucking, swallowing the sweet taste of your sweat and vanilla. You were a mess above him, head thrown back and eyes sewn shut, incoherent mumbles and whimpers leaving your lips as you pull and scrape his hair at the nape of his neck. Your entire body is on fire. 

Jay presses a soft kiss on one of your breasts, his fingers brushing the nipple of the other. He kitten-licks the aching bud before latching on, sucking and circling his tongue. His other hand pinches the other nipple before he latches onto that one. He jerks his leg upwards to give you more friction and you’re overwhelmed, almost to the point of hysteria and tears. You can feel your orgasm building up and you mutter something to him, something incoherent, but he knows. 

Sinking to his knees, Jay looks up at you and you don’t even notice the bit of drool that drips down your chin. Your knees buckle at the look he gives you before he slowly pulls down your skirt and underwear, tantalizing and slow. 

He lets the skirt drop and you step out of it. He stares at your dripping, glistening pussy with a hunger you don’t normally see. He wets his lips as his eyes darken completely and he surges forward and buries his face in between your thighs, nosing your clit. Your head hits the door when he inhales, almost crying out when he presses a wet kiss to your pussy. 

He spreads your legs even further, gets impossibly closer. His nose brushes against your slick folds. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Prettiest pussy in the world, princess.” The vibrations of his words went straight to your core and you whine. 

You pull at Jay’s hair and he moans as he licks a harsh stripe of your core. You arch your back at the feeling and he presses his face closer to your cunt as his tongue pushes in and out of your sopping hole, licking and sucking loudly. He drags his tongue along your pussy, holding your hips still as he sucks on your clit. 

The tears in your eyes become heavier as he presses his nose against your clit and you moan out a broken, whiny version of his name as he laps up all your juice. The sounds he makes, the slurping and lip smacking has your legs shaking and you feel the tightness in your stomach, the orgasm that’s been building. 

He curls the tip of his tongue upwards and you almost scream, tears falling down your cheeks at the sheer pressure of pleasure. “Yes, Jay, yes” you chant, not caring about who hears you. You begin feverishly moving your hips against his face and Jay grants into your cunt, making your insides vibrate. Your legs are pulsing and your walls clench around his tongue and he knows you're close. 

Using one of his hands, he spreads your folds open wider and licks you even harsher, teasing your clit with his nose as he fucked his tongue into you. “Oh, Jay–” Your vision blurs as you moan, loud and broken, your stomach uncoiling as your orgasm washes over you and you gush all over Jay’s face. 

He hums in pleasure as he continues to push his tongue into your pussy, greedily swallowing your juices. He licks and sucks until your legs begin to shake and you pull at his hair harshly, trying to pry him off you. You’re mumbling something, a string of sentences neither of you can decipher as he slows his tongue, kissing your cunt once. 

You glance down at him and your legs buckle at the sight of him; eyes wide and hair wild as your cum and slick coats his face, his sun-kissed skin glowing with sweat as he smiles at you with swollen lips. 

He licks the skin around your pussy, cleaning you up a bit and then kisses up your thighs. You thread your fingers into his hair and tug, he stands slowly and you pull his face to yours. His eyes rake over you, grinding slowly at the fucked out look on your face, the tears staning your cheeks, swollen lips, and wide pupils. 

You tilt your head and kiss him, pressing your lips flush against his, licking his bottom lip, slipping your tongue into his mouth. You groan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue. He deepens the kiss, holding your trembling legs up as you quickly pull his top over his head, working on undoing his belt. 

You pull away from his lips and kiss down his throat, licking and sucking his skin. His hands work to undo his belt and his breath hitches when you kiss his adam’s apple, licking a long stripe of his neck. “Fuck, baby.” 

He pulls the belt off, throwing it somewhere and undoes his jeans as you lick and bite his collarbones. He slides his jeans off, stepping out of them as you work your way up his neck. He wraps one hand around his hard, leaking cock and slides up and down once. 

“Still okay, love?” Jay kisses your cheek, concern in his eyes. You kiss his chest and wrap your hand around his, squeezing the base of his cock, eyes widening when his entire body shudders. 

“Fuck me, baby.” Your thumb brushes against his pink, leaking tip. “Need you so bad.” 

Jay swallows and brushes the back of his hand against your cheek before he presses you into the door and slides his hand under your thigh before lifting your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist. 

Exhaling, Jay grips his cock and lines up with your entrance. The soft scrape of his tip against your pussy makes you both groan and he slowly pushes himself in. The satisfying tightening and burn of his veins against your gummy walls make you both moan in unison and his head falls into the crook of your neck as your pussy swallows his dick. 

“Fuck,” he groans against your skin. “Fuck, baby, feels so good.” You press a soft kiss to his neck and he jerks his hips upwards, filling you to the brim. He kneads the flesh of your ass before he grips your hips tightly and thrusts in you. 

He begins fucking into you at an unsteady pace, your jaw going slack from pleasure as his tip presses against your cervix, making your eyes roll back. You could feel every vein bulging against your walls as he pounds into you, your hands clawing at his back as his pace becomes rougher. 

He sucks the skin of your neck, licking as he bites into your skin sharply, almost breaking skin, and you whimper loudly, tugging his hair. He hips have a mind of their own as he fucks into you roughly, bringing you both closer to your release, abdomens twisting and churning.  

Your walls squeeze around his cock and desperation claws at him as he thrusts erratically and he pushes your body flush against his, forcing your hips to match his bruising pace as more slick poured from your cunt, down his legs, your needy moans mixing with his broken ones. 

“I’m, oh, close–” you stutter out, eyes fluttering shut as Jay’s fingers brush against your clit. Your walls squeeze around him again and he feels the euphoria build in his chest. Stars dance around your eyes as he tilts his head and presses his lips against yours, mumbling against your lips. 

“Cum for me, baby. Please, cum all over my cock,” his voice was desperate, sweet. 

He thrusts into you a few more times and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you come undone for him, falling limp against him as your legs shake. Jay’s hands are all over your body, caressing your skin and mumbling sweet nothings to you. 

His lips press soft kisses to your skin as you coat his dick in your cum, thrusting into you once more as warm ropes of his cum fill you up. He mumbles your name like a prayer as he continues to kiss you, continues to cum, filling you up. He’s hips are still moving slowly against yours as he fucks his cum into you, whispering quiet praises of love against your skin.

Your entire body is shaking and you can barely feel your legs and Jay slides both of his hands under your thighs before lifting you up, your legs wrapping around him securely as his dick twitches inside your sopping cunt. 

When your eyes meet, he parts his lips to tell you he loves you, but you pull him into a burning kiss, tongues and teeth clashing. You moan into his mouth at the intimacy of it all–the way his cock is still buried inside you, the way your mixed juices leak out of you and down his legs, the gentle caress of his hands as he whispers loving praises into your mouth. 

You pull away and your lips curve into a smile at the way Jay’s lips glisten, at the way he keeps his eyes shut for a moment longer before his eyes meet yours. You’re both sweating, panting, ignoring the fact that your neighbors definitely heard you. He smiles at you and you brush the hair sticking to his forehead. 

“I love you, Jay.” 

His eyes soften considerably and he presses his forehead against yours, nose brushing yours before he smiles. “And I love you, baby.” 

You cup his cheek and a wicked, insatiable glint enters your eyes and Jay’s cock twitches inside you, making you both hum. You tilt your head and smile at him widely before grinding your hips against his, pulling a groan out of him. 

“Now,” you press a kiss against his jaw. “Fuck me on the bed.” 

Jay’s already moving to your shared bedroom, making sure to walk slowly as his cock slides in and out of you at the movement. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

“As you wish, princess.” 

[unknown-lab]

Saja Boys when they see you talking to some other boy band

Pairing: Saja Boys x fem!reader (Separate) Genre: angst? (They have a crush on you but you don't know it) A/N: It's been so long since I last wrote something, and my creativity is so limited after stressing about my studies. Btw I graduated high school yayy

Comments and reblogs will be appreciated 💕

You — fondly known as the “pretty mother” (you're about the same age as them) of the Saja Boys — had pulled off the impossible: securing a collaboration with a top-tier boy group that once reigned as Korea’s No.1 before the Saja Boys even debuted. It was a deal you were immensely proud of, not just because of the prestige, but because of how difficult their managing company was to deal with. The higher-ups were notoriously jealous of the Saja Boys' rising popularity, often making life miserable for their own team just to stay competitive.

But as always, you — the ever-patient, kind-hearted manager, the mother of your boys — bore the brunt of the negotiations, pushing through relentless obstacles, so your boys could have a smoother, brighter future in the cutthroat K-pop industry.

And now, here you were — standing with the rival group’s manager (who had become more of a reluctant ally), reviewing schedules for an upcoming variety show. But instead of the gratitude or excitement you'd hoped for, the Saja Boys watched from a distance, clearly... not impressed.

Jinu

Jinu couldn’t help but furrow his brows as he watched you laugh — actually laugh — while talking to them. Those so-called idols, those polished, plastic things from the rival group. You were smiling, eyes crinkling in that rare way that even the Saja Boys hardly got to see. Not because you didn’t care to show them your lovely side, but because you're too overworked every time you are with them. But of course, Jinu didn’t quite get that — all he saw was you giving them what he wished you’d give him.

Without a word, he walked over and dropped himself into the seat beside you, letting his knee brush deliberately against yours. The contact was subtle, but intentional. You, ever the cautious professional — the manager of Korea’s most beloved boy band — instinctively shifted away, just enough to keep the tabloids at bay.

Jinu caught that. His eyes narrowed for a split second, but he kept his expression in check, smiling politely at the rivals like this was just business. Professionalism, after all. But inside, it was getting harder to keep it together. Every second of that meeting dragged like a knife along glass.

He tried — more than once — to politely wrap things up, throwing in the occasional, “Well, we should get going soon,” or “Don’t want to overstay our time, right?” But every time, you waved him off, too caught up in whatever ideas you, and they were bouncing around. And all Jinu could do was sit there, smiling a lie.

"Jinu, what was that all about?" you snapped the moment you were finally out of earshot.

Two long, exhausting hours of smiling and civil talk, all undone by him acting like a sulky child the entire time. Your cheerful facade had dropped the second the meeting ended, replaced by a deep frown that made your irritation loud and clear. You stormed ahead, widening the space between you both with every step. He kept catching up easily, thanks to those unfairly long legs of his, which only made you more annoyed.

“Were they really that good-looking for you to be all smiley from start to finish?” Jinu asked, voice light, followed by a forced chuckle, trying, and failing, to mask the unease brewing beneath his cool exterior.

You stopped in your tracks. “Yes, they are,” you shot back, whirling around to face him. “So would you kindly stop interfering with everything I’m doing for your benefit?”

Then, with all the sarcasm you could summon, you flashed him your brightest, fakest smile — the kind so unnerving even Gwi-Ma would’ve taken a step back.

Jinu’s smile faltered. His lips pressed into a tight line. “No… not that smile,” he mumbled, voice quieter. “I want the one you gave them earlier.”

You blinked, surprised for half a second by the sudden softness in his voice. The leader of the Saja Boys now sounded less like a composed idol and more like a child begging for attention, or worse, a boy aching for affection he didn’t know how to ask for.

You exhaled, irritation mixing with exhaustion. “...Stop following me,” you said firmly, turning your back on him. “And go practice your choreography. I have more important things to deal with than babysitting your ego.”

And with that, you walked away, leaving Jinu standing alone in the hallway, holding onto the weight of a smile that didn’t belong to him.

Baby (He's my bias)

Baby wasn’t the type to feel things.

At least, not in the way humans did — not the wild rollercoaster of emotion they seemed to ride so easily. His expression rarely changed unless it's stage-required. His voice stayed flat, steady. Highs and lows didn’t reach him. That’s how he was built.

But ever since you entered his field of vision — whether you were laughing, scolding, or just walking past him — he felt it. Something. A subtle throb in his chest, like a warning or a pull. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, soft or sharp — if you were there, it was there.

And right now? It was fire.

“What’s this?”

Baby’s jaw clenched ever so slightly as he caught sight of that guy — one of the members from whatever group this was — leaning in way too close to you, tossing out flirtatious lines like confetti. And there you were, smiling and nodding politely, playing along like the ever-professional manager you were.

You weren’t interested, Baby knew that much, but watching you entertain that flirting for the sake of diplomacy lit something sharp and burning in his chest.

He walked over, expression unreadable, and casually dropped himself on the couch to your right. Slouching back, he stretched his left arm across the top of the couch, just behind your shoulders, not quite touching you, but close enough to claim space around you.

“Oh! Baby Saja! It’s such an honor to meet you!” one of the rappers exclaimed, eyes sparkling with admiration. He had clearly been a fan for a long time.

Unfortunately for him, Baby didn’t even look in his direction, just gave a curt nod before grabbing a bag of chips off the table and tearing it open. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. You tried to keep your cool, and focused on business. But Baby didn’t make it easy.

“Y/N, eat some.”

“Want me to feed you?”

“This tastes good.”

One interruption after another — a childish war waged in crunches and commentary — all aimed at pulling your attention away from them.

You shot him a sharp glare, your lips tightening in a forced smile as you continued your pitch. You wanted to yell at him. God, you wanted to tell him to read the damn room. But you couldn’t — that would be breaking your professionalism, too.

So instead, you endured the battle of chips echoing beside you like a passive-aggressive soundtrack.

The moment the rival group left the room and the door shut behind them, you turned to him — no more filters, no more smiles.

“For fxxk’s sake, Baby, next time just leave me alone when I’m working.” The words hit like a slap. His hand froze halfway to the chip bag, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“I just wanted to share some with you…” he muttered, suddenly small. The fire inside him — that rage, that jealousy — all shrank down into confusion. He didn’t know what this feeling was. He didn’t understand why seeing someone else near you made his chest feel like it was being crushed.

In the demon realm, feelings like this weren’t taught — only how to survive.

“Go share with whatever, whoever you want, Abby, Mystery, I don’t care. I hate chips.”

You rolled your eyes, snatched the last sip of your green tea with more force than necessary, and stormed out of the meeting room, slamming the door on whatever childish stunt he thought this was.

And Baby sat there, chip bag forgotten in his lap, staring at the closed door like he’d just lost something he didn’t even know he had.

Mystery

You’ve barely heard him speak — at least, not to you. Mystery only ever opened his mouth when it was work-related, usually with Jinu or the others. Around you? He was silent. Polite. Distant. Sometimes, you wondered if he actually hated you.

So when he walked into the meeting room that day, casual and unreadable as always, it was nothing new. The others greeted him with the usual mix of respect and camaraderie — all he did was nod.

And then he sat. Right beside you. Quietly. Like some perfectly trained dog who knew how to behave when guests were around.

But the problem wasn’t him. Not yet. The problem was the guy sitting on your other side — one of the new members from the guest group, who had been inching closer to you every five minutes like it was some sort of stealth mission. You didn’t pay him much mind, too focused on keeping the discussion flowing with their leader. You didn’t even notice the way his shoulder leaned in, or the glance he gave your neckline.

But Mystery noticed.

And the moment that man’s hand reached up and casually brushed a loose strand of your hair — that was the last straw.

Smack.

The sound of Mystery slapping the guy’s hand away echoed louder than it should have. The whole room fell silent. You froze mid-sentence. Everyone stared.

Mystery, still expressionless, muttered: “There was a mosquito.”

You turned your glare on him so sharp it could've sliced through stone. Your eyes told him this is an important meeting, and you’re ruining it. His brain finally caught on, and he sat stiffly in place.

But it didn’t end there. Oh no. Throughout the meeting, he kept jumping into conversations, interrupting at the worst times, and making sarcastic remarks under his breath. And the worst part? He genuinely thought he was helping. He thought you were annoyed at them.

Meanwhile, all you wanted… was for him to just leave the damn room.

When the meeting finally wrapped up, you sent off the group with your brightest, most painfully fake smile. Then you turned on him the second the door shut.

“Mystery, what the fuck?” you snapped, slamming your clipboard onto the table. “Aren’t you usually quiet? Why are you making my life harder today?”

He blinked at you. Processing. Silently. Inside, his mind was spiraling.

She hates when I talk? Wait—so if I stay quiet, she won’t be mad...?

Romance had told him once, “Girls like it when you’re protective. Jump in when some guy gets too close. Be the cold, mysterious type, then bam, heroic move.” But Romance didn’t mention anything about the girl turning into a raging storm after.

Maybe Romance was wrong. Or perhaps he was just bad at it.

Either way, he decided then and there — maybe it's better to go back to the version of himself you never noticed. The quiet one. The unreadable one. The Mystery. Because apparently, the moment he opened his mouth... he just became a nuisance to you.

Abby

"Abby, no. I don't want to touch your abs. And I'm definitely not looking at them."

You didn’t even try to mask your irritation anymore. Abby was clinging to you again, draped over your arm like an overgrown child.

You were exhausted. Weeks of prepping for this crucial meeting with the rival group had you barely functioning — sleepless nights, caffeine-fueled days, and more stress than your body could reasonably handle.

And Abby… wasn’t helping. At all. If anything, he made things worse.

The other Saja Boys, at least, knew to give you space. They could tell just from looking at you — the dark circles under your eyes, the tightness in your voice, the way you snapped at anything that moved too fast. But not Abby.

He’d been in your room nearly every night these past few weeks, hovering, lounging, existing — claiming the foot of your bed or slumping over your desk like a cat. No reason. No invitation. You told him to leave. You tried to push him out. He never listened. Eventually, you just… gave up and let him be.

From his side, things looked different. Romance had told him once: "When a girl is stressed, she just needs someone to talk to. Be there for her. Don’t leave her alone."

And Abby — sweet, literal Abby — had taken those words as gospel. So when you raised your voice? He thought you were venting. When you kicked him out? He thought it meant stay. He thought maybe… you needed him.

But now?

After a grueling meeting, after you’d smiled through clenched teeth and juggled chaos for hours, the last thing you needed was him joking around. The moment the guests left, you turned to him, expression blank, voice flat.

"Abby, has anyone ever told you that you’re fucking annoying?" You stared him down, the exhaustion in your eyes cutting deeper than your words.

He froze, stunned like someone just pulled the ground out from under him. It took a few seconds for the words to land, to make sense.

'I’m… annoying?'

But by the time he opened his mouth to respond, you were already gone — marching out with your clipboard and files in hand, your back turned, your patience snapped.

And Abby just stood there, alone in the quiet room, his arms falling to his sides, staring at your back that turned to him without regret.

Romance

"That’s a lovely hairstyle,” Romance said coolly, resting his chin on his palm. “But I think she likes mine more than yours.”

His eyes locked onto the guy sitting a little too close to you, not that it was actually close, but for Romance, even a few inches felt like a threat. His voice was laced with teasing, but that sharp glare beneath his lashes gave him away.

He wasn’t jealous.

…Okay, maybe a little.

…Okay, he was jealous.

You hadn’t even noticed the so-called offense. You were busy, focused, managing things like you always did — and Romance was supposed to be quiet like he promised. But now he was nudging your arm, voice honey-sweet:

“Oh, it’s almost time for our date, darling. Don’t you want to go get ready now?” You turned sharply and shoved his arm off yours, glaring daggers at him.

“What do you want?” you hissed under your breath, leaning in close while the others kept talking with their manager. Your tone was low and deadly, your eyes demanding an answer.

“You.” He winked. And that? That was the spark that lit the fuse. You sucked in a sharp breath, gripping your clipboard like a weapon.

“Shut the fuck up. I’ll deal with you later.” You turned away before you said something worse, forcing a smile back onto your face and jumping right back into the conversation with the rival group.

Later, when the guests had finally left, you started tidying the room — roughly. Slamming down documents, yanking off power cords, wiping the table down like it had insulted your ancestors.

“Leave your flirting skills to your fans,” you snapped, flipping the light switch off with too much force. You didn’t even look at him as you stormed out of the room, hoping your exit would finally shake him off.

“But—”

“No buts! Just leave me alone!” you exploded, spinning around to face him. “I have a boyfriend, Romance.”

It came out in a rush. A lie. A sharp, stupid, panicked lie you threw out like a smoke bomb, just to make him back off.And for once… it worked. You left. He didn’t follow. Romance stood there, frozen, your words replaying over and over in his head.

I have a boyfriend, Romance.

He wasn’t sure what hurt more — the fact that you didn’t trust him to be serious, or the idea that maybe… just maybe… someone else had already taken the place he desperately wanted to stand in.

Mwah thank you so much for reading <3 Took me quite some time cuz I movie didn't give us enough character development... I literally had to make scenarios in my head to fall asleep every night just to get ideas AAHHHHHHH. Aight gotta start writing all of your requests ^^

[iydiamartinx]

THIS MEANS WAR IX

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 2.3k synopsis: Gotham’s youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her over—without revealing they know each other… or that they’re vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: I hope I got everyone who asked to be added to the taglist. if possible, if you want to be added, can you let me know in the most recent chapter? that way I don't have to scour through all the previous chapter comments, I'm worried I'll miss or forget to add you 🩵

RACE TRACK

You were having the time of your life.

The last thing you expected when Jason texted you about a second date was to end up behind the wheel of a vintage muscle car, roaring around a private race track like you were in Fast and Furious: Gotham Drift.

Yet here you were—hands gripping the steering wheel, wind whipping through your hair, tires screeching against hot pavement.

And the best part?

You were driving.

“You know, my brother used to love cars,” you babbled, voice rising over the thunder of the engine. “We used to sneak out to the track at night and watch others race. He swore he’d be a professional driver one day.”

Jason’s ears perked up at the mention of your brother.

It was subtle, the way his posture shifted—just a slight tilt of his head, a flicker of interest in his eyes. He kept his expression relaxed, but inside, his mind sharpened,

He leaned in, ever so slightly, hoping you’d keep going. Hoping you’d slip something. A name. A location. A breadcrumb he could follow.

But instead, you let out a wild cheer, head thrown back in exhilaration as the car hit the straightaway.

“This is amazing!” you shouted, laughter bursting from your chest, raw and unfiltered, as the engine snarled like a beast beneath the hood. The tires screeched against the asphalt, and wind tore through the open windows, stealing your words and replacing them with pure adrenaline.

Beside you, Jason barked out a laugh—half amused, half alarmed—but his eyes kept flicking toward the speedometer.

You were a very good driver.

You were also going very fast.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he called over the roar of the engine, “but are you trying to kill us on our second date?”

You grinned, wild and unrepentant, shooting him a quick glance. “Is that fear in your voice?”

Jason scoffed, but the way his hand clenched the door handle said otherwise.

“In your dreams,” he shot back, though his voice pitched a little higher as you took the next corner without so much as tapping the brakes.

You let out a delighted laugh and downshifted with an aggressive flick of your wrist, sending the car into a perfect curve along the bend. The tires screamed. Jason did not—but it was a close thing.

“God, you’re insane,” he muttered, but there was unmistakable admiration in his tone.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you teased, eyes gleaming as the straightaway opened up ahead. “Think I can hit 120?”

“Absolutely not—”

But you were already gunning it.

The engine howled, the track blurred, and Jason’s curses were lost to the wind. You were flying now, a streak of black and chrome cutting across the asphalt.

As you were having the time of your life something in the rearview mirror caught Jason’s attention. His eyes narrowed and subtly he angled the side mirror, just enough to catch the glint of something, cutting through the sky behind them.

A small, black silhouette trailing in their wake, a Bat drone.

Dick.

Jason’s jaw ticked, just once as he glanced back and subtly raised his middle finger at the camera.

BAT CAVE

Dick, who had been leaning over Barbara’s shoulder watching the live feed, blinked in disbelief. “Did he just give our bird the bird?”

Barbara didn’t even look up, her jaw working steadily as she lazily chewed her gum. She casually tapped a few keys, zooming in on the grainy screen. “Yep.”

There was a beat. Then her chewing slowed.

“Wait… what’s he doing?”

Both of them leaned in, eyes narrowing as Jason shifted in his seat. The camera caught the subtle movement—his arm reaching behind the passenger seat, fingers curling around something just out of view. Then, without warning, Jason twisted toward the drone in one fluid, practiced motion.

And the screen blinked to static.

Barbara whipped around in her chair, eyes wide. “He just shot my drone! That was a custom build!”

Dick took a small step back, hands raised as if she were about to launch something sharp at his head. “Okay—okay, I didn’t think he’d see it!”

Stephanie smirked. With a few keystrokes, she brought up the final frame before the drone feed cut to black—Jason caught mid-motion, his face half-lit by sunlight and locked in a cocky smirk, one hand proudly raised with his middle finger aimed directly at the lens.

She grinned. “This would make a killer profile picture. The ladies will go crazy for it.”

“Stephanie!”

“What was that?!” you exclaimed, twisting slightly to glance over your shoulder at the sudden pop that echoed behind you.

“Eyes on the road!” Jason yelped, one hand flying out instinctively to steady the wheel as you started to turn. “What was what? That was just the… exhaust. Yeah. Backfire.”

You squinted at him. “Sounded more like a gunshot or explosion.”

He winced, then plastered on a smile far too fast to be innocent. “Performance vehicle. Loud pipes. Very normal.”

You didn’t look convinced, but before you could press further, the track opened up again into a long, gorgeous straightaway—and Jason seized his moment.

“Alright, speed demon,” he said, leaning close with a glint in his eye, voice low and tempting, “think you can beat your last time down this stretch?”

Your attention snapped back to the track, the corner of your mouth lifting. “Is that a challenge?”

He shrugged, smug. “Unless you’re scared.”

“Oh, you are so going to eat those words.”

The car shot forward once more, tires screaming as you floored it, laughter spilling past your lips. Jason leaned back, grinning as the wind whipped around him—less concerned now that you were distracted, and more impressed than ever at your driving skills.

He’d have to apologize to Barbara later.

Probably.

Maybe.

Barbara was already turning to glare at Dick. “I’m going to strangle him.” She crossed her arms, jaw tight. “And you’re not off the hook either, Romeo. That drone wasn’t cheap.”

Dick winced. “We’ll pay for it.”

Barbara narrowed her eyes. “You two better.”

He held up his hands in surrender, then turned quickly—perhaps wisely—to Stephanie, who was back to lounging at the nearby console, one leg hooked over the arm of the chair, scrolling through a tablet.

“What do you have for me?” he asked.

Stephanie didn’t miss a beat. “She likes red wine and has a secret sweet tooth—keeps chocolate-covered almonds in her bedside drawer.”

Dick arched a brow.

“She’s not subtle about it,” Steph added, shrugging. “Lavender bath salts. Her Spotify history is a surprising mix of everything, but she primarily listens to indie rock, electronic house, and top 40 hits. Gotta say… not what I expected from a scientist like her. I would’ve clocked her for some Beethoven, maybe a little Philip Glass if she was feeling edgy.”

Barbara raised a brow. “You hacked her Spotify? How is that even relevant to the Joker case?”

“Hey, I’m just covering all my bases,” Steph shot Dick a knowing wink, “and I temporarily borrowed access,” Steph corrected. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Dick waved a hand. “Keep going.”

“And that painting you noticed hanging in her apartment?” Steph tilted her head with a grin. “Gustav Klimt. The Kiss, limited reproduction. She’s an art lover—deep dives into symbolism, expressionism, romanticism.”

Dick leaned back, brows drawing together thoughtfully. “Huh.” Then he paused looking to Stephanie.  “You got all that since yesterday?”

Steph looked up, smug. “Please. I got all of this in one hour”

ART GALLERY

You were still buzzing from your date with Jason—adrenaline thrumming through your veins, your hair windswept, your cheeks sore from smiling. You had barely made it home and kicked off your shoes, when your phone buzzed again.

Another missed call. You ignored it.

Instead, your attention drifted to the text that had just come in.

Dick:

Got any plans tonight?

You bit your lip, heart skipping. Two dates in one day should’ve been too much. Should’ve felt like whiplash. But somehow, with him, you couldn’t say no.

Which was how you ended up here—standing in a dimly lit private gallery, surrounded by warm golden frames and soft overhead spotlights.  It was just the two of you. No crowds. No noise. Just the art and him.

You turned to Dick with wide eyes. “How did you even do this?”

He flashed you that signature smile, that you’ve come to associate to him— warm and utterly charming. “I have my ways,” he said casually, hands in his pockets as he led you deeper into the exhibit. “And finally, we get to the main piece.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze landed on the painting in front of you. “Is that—? No. Is this what I think it is?”

You both spoke the artist’s name at the same time, voices overlapping in perfect harmony. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes, both of you frozen in mutual shock.

“He’s my favourite artist,” Dick said, voice softer now, almost reverent.

Your lips parted. “He’s my favourite artist. Are these the originals?”

He nodded, clearly pleased. “Yeah. You recognize this one? The Harpist, 1895?”

“Yes!” you gasped, stepping closer, instinctively leaning in to examine the texture, the detail, the brushwork. “The lines, the composition...”

“Pre-Secession movement,” Dick said smoothly, strolling beside you like a seasoned curator. In a van parked discreetly outside, Barbara’s voice crackled in his earpiece.

“Now say: ‘Look at the tension between two and three dimensionality.’”

Dick echoed obediently, “Do you see the tension between two and three dimensionality? It’s… incredible.”

You turned to him, laughing in disbelief. “How do you know this?!”

He just grinned and pivoted smoothly, guiding you to the next painting.

“This is one of my favourites,” he said.

Your breath caught. 

“Undine, 1902.”

“Undine, 1902,” Dick repeated a heartbeat later.

You stepped closer to the canvas, your voice dropping to a hush. “Gorgeous,” you murmured. “Dick, this is amazing.”

“Innovation became Intrinsic…”

“…to Degas and other modernists,” he continued reciting Barbara’s information. “You can see the influence of art nouveau in the curvature and thematic flow.”

You turned to look at him, eyes wide with something between shock and admiration. “You really know your stuff.”

Dick smiled faintly, hands clasped behind his back in his best art-patron pose. “You know,” he added, “he was a strong advocate in the finger painting movement.”

Silence.

You blinked.

He blinked.

“…What?” you said, your brow furrowing.

Dick froze. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again. “I—uh…”

BAT CAVE

Unknown to Dick, it was no longer Barbara coaching him. Jason and Tim sat hunched over a custom console, cackling at the fact they managed to hack into Barbara’s comms.

Tim leaned back with a satisfied smirk, spinning slightly in his chair. “Told you I could get into her comms.”

Jason grinned, shushing him as he leaned forward with a glint in his eye, dragging the mic close to his mouth. He pressed the button and, with the voice of Barbara Gordon—courtesy of a little audio sorcery—he purred, “Sometimes, he would finger his paintings…”

“…to get closer to them.”

Dick squinted slightly, doing his best not to react outwardly even as his stomach dropped. What the hell was Barbara saying?

“He… um…” He cleared his throat. “He used his… he…”

You tilted your head, confused by the sudden hesitation.

Dick forced a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. “The intimacy with the canvas. To finger a painting—”

Your eyes widened. His did too.

“—To paint,” he corrected quickly, voice rising in pitch as he panicked, “using hands. With his hands.”

There was a pause. A beat of silence where your expression teetered between bemusement and concern.

“Sometimes he would use mud and sticks,” came Barbara’s voice again—or what sounded like Barbara’s voice.

Your brows furrowed. “He did?” You squinted at the painting in front of you, genuinely puzzled. “I don’t remember reading that.”

Dick winced internally, already praying to every art god in existence that you wouldn’t fact-check this later.

“And if he couldn’t find a stick…”

“And if he couldn’t find a stick…” 

“…He would use his dick.”

“…He would use his di—” The word stopped dead in his throat as his brain finally processed it.

Your head snapped toward him so fast it was a miracle your neck didn’t cramp. You stared at him, eyes wide, searching his face.

Dick cleared his throat, his fingers twitching as he reached up to scratch behind his ear—only it wasn’t a scratch. With one swift, practiced motion, he tore the earpiece out and tucked it into his pocket, all without breaking stride.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice a touch hoarse, “I think that’s enough talking.”

He gestured toward a tall, sheet-covered frame near the far end of the gallery. “Let’s let the paintings speak for themselves.”

Curiosity flickered across your face, but before you could ask anything, he reached up and pulled the linen sheet down in one smooth motion.

The fabric fell away—and time seemed to stop.

Framed in delicate gold leaf and soft lighting stood Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss. The gilded masterpiece shimmered beneath the spotlights, rich with warmth and intimacy, every curve and contour singing with emotion and longing.

You took a breath—but it hitched, catching in your throat. “Oh my god…” you whispered. “This is amazing. It’s so beautiful… just… just incredible.”

You stepped closer and without thinking, your arms slipped around Dick’s, your head coming to rest gently against his shoulder.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Barely even breathed.

“Yeah,” he murmured finally, barely audible over the hum of the room. “It is…”

But his eyes weren’t on the painting.

They were on you.

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[missmadella]

"How They React to You Getting Along With Their Rival" //Tokyo Revengers

Charakters: Mikey, Sanzu, Ran, Rindou, Hanma, Wakasa, Mitsuya, Izana, Kakucho, Chifuyu

Synopsis: You never meant to stir tension — a smile here, a shared joke there. Maybe it was innocent. Maybe it wasn't. But in their world — where loyalty is life, and trust is earned through blood and scars — nothing ever goes unnoticed. You're theirs. At least, that's what they believe. So when they catch you getting too close to someone they once fought, someone they never fully forgave, something in them shifts. Jealousy creeps in — protective, possessive, sometimes quiet and aching… sometimes loud and dangerous.

CW: Protective/Possessive Behavior, Implied Past Violence / Gang Conflict, Mentions of Rivalries / Tension Between Characters, Emotional Dependency or Insecurity (Mild Angst), Light Intimacy / Kissing

Mikey (Manjiro Sano):

It was another seemingly normal day in Toman. The sun was shining high above as you stood next to your boyfriend — and the leader of the gang — Sano Manjiro, or Mikey, as everyone called him.

His arm was wrapped securely around your waist, his head resting lazily on your shoulder as he watched the approaching enemy gang with that same unreadable calm he was known for. Draped over your shoulders was his black Toman jacket, a silent claim for everyone to see. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. But he was your boyfriend, after all.

“You ready, baby?” he murmured, voice low against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke.

“Of course,” you replied, a confident smile playing on your lips. You were ready to fight — to protect your family, no matter the cost.

As the others around you cracked their knuckles and readied themselves, you let your eyes drift over the battlefield. But your gaze halted when it landed on two familiar faces lounging casually on the sidelines, clearly here to spectate.

You hadn’t seen them in a while — but there they were. With a wide grin, you made eye contact.

A matching smirk tugged at their lips as they recognized you.

Taking a light step forward, you waved at them cheerfully, calling out, “Hey, Ran, Rinnie!”

You flashed a dazzling smile in their direction, the kind that made people stop and stare. And it did — Toman members exchanged confused glances, unsure why you were suddenly so friendly with the notorious Haitani brothers.

“Hey, princess,” they called back in sync, Ran’s voice smooth as always. Rindou even lifted his hand in a lazy wave, grinning.

Behind you, Mikey had gone completely still.

His dark eyes stayed locked on your glowing expression, watching how you lit up for them — not for him. The ease in your voice. The soft laughter. The attention you gave away so freely.

Without a word, his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest in one swift, effortless motion. You blinked, caught off guard, as he rested his chin on your shoulder again — this time, a bit more firmly.

You didn’t see it, but Mikey shot a cold, warning glare at the Haitani brothers, a dark promise behind his eyes.

They noticed.

Ran just chuckled under his breath, nudging Rindou. “Looks like we poked the dragon.”

Rindou smirked but kept his gaze on you. “Worth it.”

You shifted slightly, feeling Mikey’s arms still locked tightly around you. His grip was a little too firm now, his chin heavy against your shoulder — no longer lazy, but grounding. Holding.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying to glance back at him. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze was still fixed in the distance, jaw tight, eyes hard. You followed his line of sight and realized — he hadn’t stopped staring at the Haitani brothers.

“Mikey…” you started, brows furrowing.

He finally looked at you, and something about his expression made your breath hitch. The usual calm in his eyes was replaced by something darker — possessiveness mixed with frustration. The kind of look Mikey wore right before he snapped.

“You looked real happy to see them,” he said quietly.

“They’re just friends,” you said, confused at first — then suddenly realizing where this was coming from.

He leaned in closer, voice dropping. “That smile? That wave? You don’t even look at me like that sometimes.”

Your heart skipped. “I didn’t mean—Mikey, I was just—”

He didn’t let you finish. His hand reached up, fingers tangling gently in your hair as he tilted your head toward him, eyes never leaving yours. The battlefield around you faded — the murmurs of Toman, the Haitanis watching, the tension — all of it disappeared the second his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn’t a soft kiss. It was deep, deliberate, and possessive.

His hand slipped from your waist to your lower back, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you like he wanted to remind everyone — especially the Haitani brothers — exactly who you belonged to.

Your hands instinctively clutched at the front of his jacket, anchoring yourself to him as his mouth moved over yours, all fire and frustration and unspoken emotion.

When he finally pulled back, just a breath away, his voice was low and firm. “You don’t smile at them like that again.”

You blinked, dazed, heart racing. “O-Okay.”

His eyes softened slightly at your breathless reply. He pressed his forehead against yours, finally letting out a quiet sigh — the storm in his chest calming just a little now that he’d made his point.

“You’re mine,” he whispered.

“I’ve always been,” you whispered back.

___________________________________________________________________________

Sanzu Haruchiyo:

The neon lights of Roppongi buzzed above your head, painting the wet streets with violet and gold. Rain had just fallen, leaving everything slick — including the rooftop you now stood on, beside your lover, Haruchiyo Sanzu.

He stood at the edge, cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes distant as he surveyed the city below. In the dark silence, the only sounds were the low hum of distant sirens and the wind rushing past.

You leaned against the ledge beside him, silent for a moment.

“Another deal gone right?” you asked softly, trying to draw him back.

He didn’t look at you, just blew smoke into the night. “For now.”

There was something sharp in his tone — like glass on skin. You could tell his mood was off. You didn’t know why. Not yet.

That changed when the rooftop door swung open behind you with a click.

Your breath hitched when you turned to see someone familiar — a man you'd known before Bonten, back when your world was simpler. He walked with ease, eyes finding yours instantly. There was history there. Not romantic, but Sanzu had always hated him.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," he said smoothly, grinning.

You smiled politely. “Neither did I.”

He stepped closer. Too close.

You didn’t notice the way Sanzu had turned, cigarette now forgotten, fingers twitching at his side. His eyes followed every movement like a predator waiting for a reason.

The man leaned in a little more, voice lower now. “You look good. Guess Bonten’s got perks.”

You laughed lightly, trying to keep it casual. “I survive.”

Behind you, you heard Sanzu’s voice — calm, but cold enough to burn.

“Back off.”

Your smile froze.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Relax. We’re just talking.”

“I said. Back. Off.” Sanzu’s footsteps echoed as he approached, slow and steady — the warning in each step louder than any shout.

The rival clicked his tongue and walked away, muttering something under his breath. You turned to Sanzu, ready to stop him if he lunged.

But he didn’t lunge. He just grabbed your wrist and dragged you across the rooftop — not roughly, but with intent. Possession.

“Sanzu—” you tried, but he didn’t let you speak. He shoved open the rooftop stairwell door, pulled you inside, and slammed it behind him.

Now you were alone. The dim emergency lights flickered down the stairwell.

He turned on you.

“You smiling at him?” His voice was low, feral. “Laughing with him?”

You swallowed, backing slightly into the wall. “I didn’t mean anything by it—”

“That’s not the point!” His fist slammed into the wall beside your head, not touching you, but enough to make you flinch. “You don’t look at anyone like that. Not him. Not anyone. Not unless you want me to snap.”

You stared at him — the flush on his cheeks, the frantic look in his eyes. The way his breathing was uneven. This wasn’t just anger.

It was fear.

Fear of losing you.

“Sanzu,” you said gently, reaching for his face. He twitched but didn’t pull away. “I’m yours. You know that.”

He stared at you for a second. Then grabbed your waist and crashed his mouth against yours.

The kiss was messy, desperate, teeth and tongue and frustration. His hands tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp. He kissed like he was trying to erase any trace of the other man — like he needed to mark you again.

When he pulled back, lips swollen, he rested his forehead against yours, still panting.

“You’re mine,” he whispered hoarsely. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered back without hesitation, letting your fingers curl into the fabric of his Bonten jacket. “Only yours.”

His grip on you tightened, like he didn’t believe the world wouldn’t try to take you from him the second he let go.

“Good,” he murmured, lips brushing yours again. “Because if anyone touches you again, I won’t just kill them. I’ll make them disappear.”

You didn’t doubt it.

You didn’t need to.

Because no matter how dark Sanzu got — no matter how unhinged, jealous, or broken — his madness was always laced with something else.

Love.

Dangerous, possessive, terrifying love.

And it was all yours.

___________________________________________________________________________

Ran Haitani:

The Bonten lounge buzzed with low conversation, cigarette smoke curling through the golden lights. You leaned against the bar, chatting animatedly with none other than Mitsuya Takashi — a familiar, calm presence from your days with Toman. He’d stopped by with Draken to settle something minor with Mikey, and naturally, you'd gravitated toward him.

Old friends. Nothing more.

You laughed at something Mitsuya said, gently touching his arm out of habit, and his warm smile widened.

You didn’t see the sharp eyes watching you from across the room.

Ran Haitani sat slouched on a velvet couch, long legs crossed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass lazily. His braid hung over his shoulder, the faintest smirk on his lips — but his eyes?

Cold. Hard.

Unamused.

He’d been watching you for the last ten minutes. Watching the way you smiled at Mitsuya. How close you leaned in. The casual touch on the arm.

Ran could excuse a lot of things — but another man making you laugh like that? Standing that close to you? Nah. Not happening.

He downed the rest of his drink in one smooth gulp and stood.

You didn’t even notice him approaching until his arm was snaking around your waist.

“Having fun?” he murmured, lips near your ear, his voice low and sugar-slick — but with a sharp edge that wasn’t there before.

You stiffened slightly. “Oh. Hey, Ran. Mitsuya just stopped by—”

“Yeah, I saw.” He smiled — a slow, empty smile that didn’t reach his eyes — and turned his gaze to Mitsuya. “Good to see you again, man.”

Mitsuya, cool as ever, nodded politely. “Same here. I’ll catch you around,” he said to you, clearly sensing the sudden shift in mood.

You gave a small wave as he walked off, but Ran’s hand tightened around your waist before you could say anything else.

He didn’t say a word as he guided you — dragged you — out of the lounge and down the hall toward one of the quieter rooms. You could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, even if he still wore that deceptively smooth expression.

The door shut behind you with a soft click.

You turned to speak, but he cut you off — not with words.

With a kiss.

Hot. Deep. Possessive.

His hand tangled in your hair as he pressed you against the wall, his other hand gripping your waist like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to. You gasped into the kiss, your hands gripping his shirt as he leaned his full weight into you.

When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just above yours, his eyes half-lidded but blazing.

“You looked real cozy with him,” he muttered. “Didn’t like that.”

“Ran…” you whispered, breathless. “It was nothing.”

He scoffed softly, leaning in again to brush your jaw with his lips, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t laugh with him like that. You don’t touch him like that.”

He moved his lips to your ear, biting just enough to make you shiver.

“That’s mine,” he growled, dragging a finger from your cheek to your lips. “You’re mine.”

“I am,” you said quickly, heart pounding. “I only ever was.”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes — like he was trying to read the truth on your face. When he saw it there, the tightness in his jaw eased, but only a little.

“Good.” His voice was quieter now. “’Cause I don’t share. Ever.”

And then he kissed you again, slower this time — but no less intense. It wasn’t just jealousy anymore.

It was reassurance, claim, and want. All tangled into one.

___________________________________________________________________________

Rindou Haitani:

The low bass of the music pulsed through the club, deep and rhythmic, as blue and purple lights flickered across the floor. Bonten had taken over the VIP section, as always, but tonight felt different — relaxed, casual, almost like the calm before a storm.

You were leaned against the booth, a drink in hand, chatting with Mitsuya Takashi, who’d come by to settle something on behalf of an ally group. It was easy with Mitsuya — always had been. He was kind, composed, and easy to talk to.

You laughed at something he said, just loud enough to catch a few curious glances from nearby tables. Your smile lingered, and you didn’t notice how long you’d been talking.

But someone did.

Rindou watched from the other end of the lounge, sipping his drink in silence. His jaw tightened every time you laughed. Every time Mitsuya leaned just a little closer. Every time you let him.

He didn’t make a scene. Not yet. But his fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against the glass in his hand — a silent warning that his patience was thinning.

Ran glanced at him from the side, raising an eyebrow.

“You good?” he asked.

Rindou didn’t answer. His eyes were still locked on you.

And then Mitsuya touched your arm.

That was it.

Rindou stood up.

You didn’t notice him until he was right behind you, his hand suddenly curling around your wrist as he leaned down to speak close to your ear — voice low and calm, but sharp as broken glass.

“We’re leaving.”

You blinked, startled. “Rin—”

He didn’t wait. He was already guiding you through the crowd with a firm grip, not forceful, but absolute. You didn’t resist. You could feel the jealousy radiating off him — quiet and deadly, the kind that made your skin buzz with tension.

He led you to a back hallway, dimly lit and far from the music. The second the door closed behind you, he turned, pushing you gently but firmly against the wall.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, voice tight.

You looked up at him, heart skipping. “It was just Mitsuya—”

“I know who it was,” he snapped. “I watched him flirt with you for ten minutes. And you just stood there. Smiling. Laughing.”

His hand came up to your face, fingers brushing your cheek in contrast to his tone.

“You think I’m just gonna stand there and let some guy look at you like that?” he whispered. “Touch you like that?”

“He wasn’t flirting,” you said quietly. “But even if he was… I don’t want him. I want you.”

He stared at you for a long second. You saw the internal war behind his eyes — anger and jealousy colliding with how much he needed to believe you.

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

There was no hesitation, no teasing. Just raw, possessive need. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you in so tightly there was no space between your bodies. He kissed like he wanted to brand you, to drown out everything but him — your breath, your heartbeat, your focus.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were flushed and his voice was lower.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Say you’re mine.”

You exhaled, lips brushing his. “I’m yours.”

“Only mine.”

“Only yours.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “I can’t watch someone else touch you like that again. I’ll lose it.”

“You don’t need to,” you said softly, brushing his cheek. “You already have me.”

His arms wrapped tighter around you, and this time, when he kissed you — it was slower. Fierce, but full of need.

Not just to claim you.

But to keep you.

__________________________________________________________________________

Hanma Shuji:

The streets were quieter now.

It was the kind of Tokyo night that felt too still — like the city itself had fallen asleep under all the weight of the past.

You leaned against a rusted railing outside an old arcade, the glow of neon signs flickering across your face. You lit a cigarette, staring out across the pavement — mind fogged, heart quiet.

“Y/N?”

You turned.

Takemichi.

He looked older. Tired. That same messy hair and wide-eyed softness, but time had carved its marks into him. Maybe it had done the same to you.

He stepped closer, cautiously.

“…You disappeared after the Toman fallout.”

You exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “Yeah. That was kind of the point.”

“I tried to find you,” he said, voice hoarse. “Nobody knew where you went. Then I heard rumors about Hanma…”

You smirked without humor. “Of course you did.”

Takemichi flinched. “Y/N… what happened to you?”

The words hit harder than they should’ve. You looked away.

He kept going.

“You were one of us. You believed in Mikey, in what we were building. You had a future. What the hell are you doing with him?”

There it was. That judgment hidden in worry.

That hope.

Like you were something broken he could fix.

You took another drag and looked at him, eyes sharp. “You think I don’t ask myself that sometimes?”

“Then why stay?”

You paused — and for a moment, the past flickered behind your eyes. Blood. Betrayal. Loss. Toman had burned from the inside out, and the people who stayed behind were the ones who weren’t afraid of the flames.

“Because he’s the only one who never lied to me,” you finally said. “Hanma never pretended the world was something it’s not.”

Takemichi looked heartbroken. “He’s dangerous.”

“So was everyone we trusted.”

A new voice sliced through the air like a knife.

“Well, this is nostalgic.”

You stiffened.

Hanma Shuji strolled up with that same lanky gait and wicked grin — all dark clothes and darker intentions. He slung an arm around your shoulders like it was natural, like it belonged there.

Takemichi’s expression twisted. “Why her, Hanma?”

Hanma laughed. “Why not?”

“She was good.”

Hanma’s eyes narrowed just slightly. The smile didn’t drop — but it sharpened.

“Still is,” he said, brushing his lips against your temple. “Just not your definition of it.”

Takemichi stepped forward. “You’re dragging her into your mess.”

“No,” you cut in, voice cold. “I chose this.”

“But—”

“I chose him, Takemichi.”

Hanma’s fingers tightened on your waist — not possessive in the showy way, but like an anchor. Like a reminder: You’re not going anywhere.

Takemichi looked at you like he didn’t recognize who you were anymore.

You almost laughed. Because maybe he didn’t. And maybe that was the point.

“I tried to protect you back then,” he whispered. “And now I don’t even know how to reach you.”

You smiled, just a little.

“Maybe I don’t want to be reached.”

Hanma chuckled low against your ear. “Atta girl.”

And Takemichi? He didn’t say anything else.

He just walked away — shoulders heavy with guilt, with history, with all the pieces he couldn’t save.

You stood there, quiet, as Hanma took the cigarette from your hand and smoked it like it was his.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No.”

“Good.” He kissed your cheek. “I’d worry if you were.”

Takemichi disappeared into the night, swallowed up by the city’s quiet hum.

For a few seconds, you and Hanma just stood there, watching the empty street like it might say something. The cigarette burned low between his fingers, and the tension that had built during the conversation was still crackling in the air between you.

Then Hanma turned to you slowly — really looked at you. His eyes were dark and unreadable, glittering with something twisted and intense.

“You let him get under your skin.”

You met his gaze, jaw set. “I didn’t say anything he didn’t need to hear.”

“No,” Hanma said with a half-smirk, flicking the cigarette to the ground. “But you still let him talk to you like he could’ve had you.”

He stepped closer, the sound of his boots low and deliberate. “Like he still thinks he can save you. Like he sees you as something breakable.”

He was in front of you now, his voice a low rasp. “You’re not breakable, baby. You’re ruined.”

You didn’t back away.

“I’m not his,” you said, breathless. “I never was.”

Hanma grinned — wide and dangerous, like something wild just beneath the surface snapped loose.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle.

He backed you into the wall behind the arcade, hands gripping your hips as his mouth crashed into yours. There was no hesitation, no holding back. His tongue slid past your lips with practiced ease, claiming every inch like he needed to remind you — and himself — that you were his.

You gasped softly against him, hands curling into the front of his shirt as his knee slid between your thighs, pressing you harder against the brick.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, lips swollen and smirking.

“Say it.”

“Hanma—”

“Say you’re mine.”

You exhaled shakily, heart pounding. “I’m yours.”

His grin deepened — darker now. Hungrier.

And he was kissing you again, his fingers tangling in your hair, the sharp bite of his teeth catching your lower lip just enough to make you gasp. You barely noticed the city anymore. The noise. The world. There was only him — the heat of his mouth, the chill of the night air, the way he devoured you like he’d die if he didn’t.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. His eyes locked onto yours, wild and possessive.

“Don’t ever let anyone look at you like that again,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re insane.”

“And you love it.”

You couldn’t deny it.

Not when he kissed you again — slower this time, but just as intense. Like a promise made in the ruins of everything that used to be soft.

___________________________________________________________________________

Wakasa Imaushi:

The low thrum of bass echoed through the lounge, pulsing against the marble walls like a heartbeat. You hadn’t expected to run into Taiju Shiba of all people — and definitely not in a place as upscale as this. But there he was: towering, broad-shouldered, still carrying that intimidating presence, though mellowed slightly with age. The leather of his jacket creaked as he leaned in to tell you a joke that made you actually laugh.

And Wakasa Imaushi saw it all.

From across the room, he watched — half-lidded eyes tracking your every move, arms lazily folded over his chest. He was calm on the surface, but you knew that calm could split like ice under pressure. And right now, he looked like he was holding back a storm.

Wakasa had history with Taiju. Not just scraps in back alleys and street fights, but bad blood — the kind that doesn’t fade just because time moves forward. And seeing you, his person, standing there smiling like Taiju was your long-lost childhood friend?

That tested every ounce of his patience.

You felt it before you saw it — the shift in the room when Wakasa finally moved. Silent, graceful, predatory in that cat-like way of his. One moment he was across the lounge, and the next, his voice was a whisper beside your ear.

“Having fun?”

You startled slightly. “Waka—hey. I didn’t know you were here.”

He didn’t look at you. His eyes were fixed on Taiju, cold and sharp, like he was deciding whether or not to start something violent right in the middle of the expensive bar.

Taiju smirked lazily. “I was just being friendly. Calm down, Imaushi.”

Wakasa didn’t blink. “Friendly’s a strong word for you.”

You stepped between them, placing a calming hand on Wakasa’s chest. “Okay. No one’s throwing punches in Armani.”

Waka finally looked at you — and his eyes were unreadable. Quiet, but not calm. Something else was flickering there: hurt, possessiveness, maybe even insecurity, though he’d never admit it out loud.

You sighed, tugging his wrist and guiding him toward the back hallway, away from the floor and prying eyes.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you said, once you were alone.

“You were laughing,” he replied, voice flat. “At his jokes.”

“So? You don’t have a monopoly on my sense of humor.”

He looked away. “He doesn’t deserve to see that side of you.”

There it was. Not jealousy. Not anger.

Fear.

He was afraid of losing something — you. In a world where people left, turned on each other, or got killed in back-alley power plays, you were the only softness he’d allowed himself to keep.

“I love you, not him,” you said gently, stepping closer. “You know that, right?”

His jaw tightened. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.”

You didn’t answer with words. You stepped into him — hands sliding under his jacket, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. And he let you, let you pull him down until your lips brushed his.

Then he kissed you — deep, fierce, starving. His hands gripped your hips like he needed to anchor himself to you, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. Your back hit the wall of the hallway with a quiet thud, and he chased your mouth like it was the only language he knew.

You gasped as he kissed down your jaw, lips warm against your neck. “I hate how he looks at you,” he muttered.

You grabbed his face gently, forcing his eyes back to yours. “Then look harder. Because I only ever look back at you.”

He kissed you again, slower now — an apology, a promise, and a warning all in one.

“I don’t share,” he murmured.

“Good,” you whispered back. “Because I’m not offering.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Mitsuya Takashi:

Mitsuya never considered himself the jealous type. He was calm, composed, mature — the kind of man who didn’t flinch easily, even in a room full of delinquents swinging lead pipes. But you, smiling too sweetly at Ran Haitani of all people? That was pushing it.

He hadn’t planned to show up at the café you mentioned earlier. You’d said it was just a casual meetup with “an old acquaintance.” But when Hakkai texted him, saying “Dude, Haitani is here. With her. Just thought you should know,” Mitsuya’s instincts flared.

And sure enough, through the front window, there you were — leaning forward, laughing at something Ran had just said. His braid swung casually as he talked, that smug, lazy smirk tugging at his lips. He wasn’t even hiding it — he knew what he was doing. Ran always knew.

Mitsuya stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming. Your head turned, and your eyes widened.

“Takashi! I didn’t know you were coming by.”

Ran turned too, smiling like a fox who just got caught in the henhouse. “Ahh, Mitsuya. Long time no see. You’re looking well.”

Mitsuya ignored him. His eyes were on you.

“Didn’t realize your old acquaintance was someone who once helped orchestrate the kidnapping of kids for money.”

Ran chuckled, clearly amused. “That was a different era. We’ve all changed, haven’t we?”

“Some of us actually meant it,” Mitsuya replied flatly.

You stood, lightly touching Mitsuya’s arm, trying to keep things calm. “We were just talking. Nothing happened.”

But Mitsuya’s eyes were darker than usual — not angry, not yelling, but tight. Controlled. Protective in a way you rarely saw from him.

He turned to you fully. “You know what kind of guy he is. You really think you can trust someone like him to just talk?”

Ran leaned back, sipping his iced coffee like this was the best entertainment he’d had all week. “Maybe you’re just upset she laughs more with me than with you.”

That did it.

Mitsuya stepped forward, fast. You put your hand on his chest to stop him — not because you thought he’d hit Ran, but because you could see the tension finally boiling past his calm exterior.

“Let’s go,” he said to you quietly, ignoring Ran now. “Now.”

You followed him out without protest.

Once outside, he kept walking until you were out of sight of the café, around the corner of a quiet alley. Then he stopped. Took a deep breath.

“I’m not trying to control who you talk to,” he said. “But you have no idea how dangerous that guy is. People like him — they smile while stabbing you in the back. And you were just sitting there like he was some harmless guy from school.”

You softened, reaching for his hand. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I didn’t even realize it would upset you like that.”

Mitsuya looked down at your joined hands. “I know. That’s the problem. You’re too good. Too trusting. People like him — they take advantage of that.”

You stepped closer, letting your forehead press to his. “But I chose you, Takashi. No one else. Ran Haitani can flirt all he wants — he’s not you. He could never be.”

His hand came up, cupping your jaw with surprising urgency.

“You’re mine,” he said, the edge in his voice low, unexpected. “I don’t want anyone else thinking they even have a shot.”

And then he kissed you — with heat, hunger, and frustration laced between his lips. It wasn’t sweet like his usual kisses. This one said You’re mine, and I need you to remember that. His hands slid around your waist, holding you like he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else doing the same.

When he finally pulled away, your chest was heaving.

“I don’t get jealous often,” he muttered, brushing his thumb along your lower lip. “But with you... I can’t help it.”

You smiled, brushing your nose against his.

“Then don’t.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Izana Kurokawa:

The rooftop was quiet, bathed in golden afternoon light, a breeze tugging at the loose ends of your coat as you sat perched on the ledge beside Kakucho. You hadn’t seen him in a long time — not since Tenjiku fell apart, not since Izana almost didn’t make it.

So when Kakucho had called out of the blue, asking if you wanted to catch up, you said yes. Not because you wanted to make Izana jealous. You just missed your friend. And maybe… you missed that part of your life that felt like it belonged to something before everything crumbled.

You didn’t realize Izana had arrived until you felt his presence. Like ice slipping into your spine, you looked up to see him standing across the rooftop entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, pale eyes locked on you and Kakucho.

He didn’t say a word at first.

Didn’t need to.

Kakucho stood slowly, respectful but firm. “Izana. Was just talking with her.”

“I can see that,” Izana said, voice cool — detached, but too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant something darker was boiling beneath the surface.

You stood too. “Izana, it’s not what you think—”

“You think I don’t know what this is?” he snapped, eyes not leaving Kakucho’s. “He always looked at you too long. Like he wanted something that wasn’t his.”

“I didn’t—” Kakucho began, but Izana cut him off with a venom-laced laugh.

“I let you in. I trusted you. And now you’re here with her when I’m not around?” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Either you’re stupid, or you think I’ve gone soft.”

“Izana,” you said, moving between them, your voice a plea. “He’s not doing anything wrong. He’s just my friend.”

“Yeah? And do I look like the kind of guy who shares?”

You didn’t answer.

Izana’s hand reached for yours, tugging you gently — but firmly — away from Kakucho. His grip was tight, but not cruel. Possessive. Protective. Afraid.

You followed him down the rooftop stairs without resistance, his silence louder than any words. Only once you reached the alley behind the building did he stop and turn to you, his back against the wall as his eyes finally looked vulnerable.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.

Your heart broke a little at the crack in his voice — the way the man who ruled entire gangs now looked like a boy afraid of being left behind again.

“You won’t,” you said softly, stepping closer.

“I’ve lost everything I ever cared about. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too.”

You stood between his legs as he leaned back against the wall, and you took his face in your hands. “Then stop looking at me like I’m going to leave. Because I’m not.”

He hesitated — but only for a second — before pulling you into him, his mouth claiming yours in a rough, heated kiss. There was desperation in it, teeth clashing slightly, hands gripping your hips as if to prove to himself that you were real, and his, and still here.

You kissed him back just as fiercely.

Because you knew — underneath all the sharp edges, the violence, and the cold — Izana only ever wanted to be loved. And to protect the few people who gave that love back.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me,” he murmured.

You smiled gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Then don’t push me away when I’m already yours.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Kakucho:

The rain fell in slow, steady droplets, slicking the cracked pavement of the abandoned alley where you and Takemichi stood. The glow from the distant neon signs barely cut through the haze, casting eerie shadows over the peeling walls. His voice was low and steady, trying to convince you, to explain what could be changed if only you believed.

You listened, your heart torn between the hope his words stirred and the weight of the darkness that surrounded you both. Takemichi’s determination was something new — fragile yet burning bright in the night.

But before you could answer, a presence loomed behind you, cutting through the fragile moment like a knife. Kakucho stepped out of the shadows, his expression unreadable, but his eyes flashing with a storm of emotions — possession, anger, and an unshakable protective instinct.

Takemichi glanced up warily. “Kakucho,” he said, cautious but polite.

Kakucho’s gaze flicked to you — his lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “So, you’re getting close, huh?” His voice was calm, but beneath it simmered a cold warning.

You tried to keep your tone light, “We’re just talking.”

Kakucho’s eyes darkened. “Talking with him?” His voice dropped low, thick with suspicion.

Takemichi took a step forward, voice even but firm. “I’m not here to fight. I just want to make sure she’s safe.”

At that, Kakucho’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a grip that was more than protective — it was a claim.

“Safe?” Kakucho’s voice was sharp, his gaze locking with yours. “The only safety she has is with me. And with Bonten.”

You searched his eyes for softness, but all you found was steel-hard resolve.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whispered.

Kakucho’s jaw tensed, but his hand never loosened. Then, with an unexpected gentleness, his thumb brushed your cheek. “I’m not asking.”

His eyes bore into yours, fierce and desperate all at once. “You’re mine. No matter what he says, no matter what he thinks he can do.”

Takemichi’s voice rose slightly, “She’s not your possession. She’s her own person.”

Kakucho laughed, low and dangerous. “You still don’t get it, do you? This isn’t some game.”

Turning back to you, his tone softened for a moment, just enough to remind you how much you mattered. “Stay with me. Stay safe.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Without warning, Kakucho pulled you close, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that was both demanding and desperate — a fierce declaration against the world outside that tried to pull you away.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding on tight, needing the raw reassurance his touch gave. When he finally broke away, his forehead rested against yours, breaths mingling in the cold air.

“If anyone tries to take you,” he whispered, voice rough and low, “I’ll tear them apart.”

In the silence that followed, under the flickering glow of the neon light, you felt the weight of his promise — fierce, unyielding, and all-consuming.

___________________________________________________________________________

Chifuyu Matsuno:

The bell above the door jingled softly as you stepped into Chifuyu’s pet shop, the familiar scents of hay, fresh wood, and the faint musk of animals welcoming you back. Rows of cages and tanks lined the walls, filled with chirping birds, playful puppies, and curious kittens. A soft murmur of gentle barks and the fluttering of wings created a cozy, lively atmosphere — a peaceful contrast to the turmoil of your past.

Chifuyu was behind the counter, brushing a fluffy golden retriever with methodical care. When he noticed you, his eyes lit up for a moment — but then, just for a heartbeat, something flickered beneath that calm exterior. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly.

“Hey,” he said, setting the brush down but not quite meeting your eyes. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind. What’s up?”

You hesitated, knowing that bringing up Mikey would stir more than a little in him. Still, you owed him honesty.

“I ran into Mikey today,” you said softly.

Chifuyu’s fingers paused on the counter. A flicker of unease crossed his face — a subtle shadow in his otherwise steady gaze. “Mikey?” His voice was calm but with an edge, almost like a warning wrapped in restraint.

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your tone light. “We talked. It was… unexpected. But it felt good, in a strange way.”

He swallowed, arms folding across his chest as he leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing. “Mikey’s not just anyone,” he said carefully. “You know what he means to me. To all of us.”

You stepped closer, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “I know. But I’m careful. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt what we have.”

Chifuyu’s gaze locked onto yours, his expression softening, but you caught the subtle tension in his jaw. “It’s not just about what you do. It’s about who he is. Who he was… and what he could still be.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the faintest sigh escaping him. “I’m not jealous — not exactly. It’s just... I hate the idea of you being close to someone I fought so hard against.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability hidden behind his calm. You moved closer, taking his hand in yours. “You’re the one I care about. Always.”

Slowly, he lifted your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. His eyes searched yours, silent and steady. “Good. Because no matter what happens, no matter who comes into our lives, I’m here. For you.”

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his steady presence as he pulled you into a tender, slow kiss — the kind that spoke of loyalty, protection, and a deep, unshakable bond.

When you finally parted, his forehead rested against yours, breaths mingling in the quiet shop filled with the soft sounds of animals and the fading afternoon light.

[absdollievu]

Friends with Benefits

childhoodbsf!abby x reader

Warnings: fingering

@kikispool thank you for this beautiful request

You’ve known Abby Anderson most of your life. She was the quiet kid with dirt on her knees and scraped knuckles, the one who shared her juice box with you before she ever learned how to smile without looking away. Over the years, she became your anchor. Your steady. Your favorite person.

Now, at twenty-something, that closeness hasn’t faded. It’s just… changed. Tilted. Like standing on a ledge and not knowing if the drop is only a few inches—or a free fall.

She’s here tonight for a sleepover, something you still call it even though you’re adults. It started as a joke—throwback to the old sleepovers with pillow forts and whispered secrets—but somewhere along the line, they started meaning more. Or maybe they always did.

You’re curled up together on your couch in the glow of your tiny apartment’s string lights. Both of you in soft, lived-in clothes—Abby in gray joggers and a faded tank top that shows off her shoulders a little too well, and you in an oversized white tee and shorts. Ice cream cones in hand. Hers is vanilla. Yours, chocolate.

She leans back with one leg tucked under her, and you mirror her without even thinking. There’s an easy rhythm to your bodies after all these years. A familiarity. A closeness that’s always been just shy of something else.

She steals a bite of your chocolate scoop with a grin. “Yours always melts faster.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yours just looks like sadness.”

“Vanilla’s classic,” she retorts, but her mouth is still tugged into a smile.

You’re about to fire back when a cold, sticky drop of your ice cream falls right onto your shirt—right in the center of your chest. You flinch, looking down. “Damn it.”

Abby sets her cone down carefully, grabbing a napkin. “Don’t move,” she says, already leaning in.

You freeze, not because of the mess, but because she’s so close. The air shifts. Her hand presses gently against the fabric of your shirt, trying to dab away the chocolate. You can feel the warmth of her palm through the thin cotton. Her brows furrow in concentration like this is some delicate procedure, not just cleaning up melted dessert.

You glance down at her hand, then up at her face. And she’s not looking away.

Your breath catches. Her thumb moves in slow circles, the napkin forgotten. She’s still touching you.

“Thanks,” you whisper, because it’s all you can manage.

Abby swallows, her throat moving slightly. “You’re always messy.”

You give a soft, shaky laugh. “You’ve always cleaned up after me.”

Her gaze lifts to yours, and in that moment, it’s there. Something unspoken stretching between you, taut and trembling. A long breath held for years.

“I guess I don’t mind,” she says.

There’s a silence that feels heavier than it should. Her hand hasn’t moved.

You let your eyes linger—on the curve of her cheek, the way her mouth twitches like she’s debating whether or not to speak again. And maybe you should. Maybe one of you should say something real. But neither of you do.

Instead, she leans back just a little, the moment slipping away with a tension that curls in your gut.

“You should probably change shirts before that sets in,” she says, quieter now. Almost like she’s pulling back into herself.

You nod. “Right. Good idea.”

But when you stand and make your way to your room, your heart is still thudding. You can still feel the ghost of her touch, her eyes, her breath.

And you wonder—how much longer can we pretend this isn’t something more?

⸻

You slip into your room and tug off the white tee, replacing it with an old, soft tank top that clings a little more than you remember. You hesitate at the mirror, heart still racing from the way Abby had touched you. It had been nothing. Just a napkin. Just a mess. But it didn’t feel like nothing.

When you walk back into the living room, Abby looks up—and she notices. The way her eyes sweep over you is subtle but unmistakable. Like she’s seeing something she shouldn’t, something she’s tried not to look at for a long time.

“I, uh… salvaged the cones,” she says, handing yours back to you. You take it, and your fingers brush. She doesn’t pull away.

You sit back down, closer than before. Almost touching again. She doesn’t lean away this time.

“So,” she says, voice quieter, “what were you thinking about in there?”

You glance at her, pulse skipping. “Why?”

“You look flustered.”

You give a half-laugh, trying not to look directly at her mouth. “Maybe I was thinking about you wiping chocolate off my chest.”

Her jaw tenses, just slightly. “Yeah?”

You nod, slowly. The space between you feels electric now. Tight and fragile.

“Didn’t expect you to touch me like that,” you murmur.

She’s watching you carefully now, as if waiting to see if you’ll backpedal.

But you don’t.

“I didn’t expect to want to keep touching you,” she says softly.

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

Because your mouth is already on hers before you realize you’ve moved.

It’s slow at first—tentative. Her lips part against yours and she exhales through her nose like she’s been holding her breath for months. Years. Her hand cups your jaw, rough fingertips trembling just a little. The kiss deepens, and she pulls you closer until you’re practically in her lap, knees bracketing her hips on the couch.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” she breathes against your mouth, her voice rough and low. “For so long.”

Your hands slide up under her tank top, feeling the heat of her skin, the muscle beneath. She groans softly when your nails graze her sides.

“Then do something about it,” you whisper.

She doesn’t hesitate.

She lays you back against the couch, pressing kisses down your neck, slow and reverent like she’s memorizing every sound you make. Her hands roam your waist, your hips, sliding the hem of your tank top higher and higher.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” she murmurs, voice warm and firm against your skin.

“I don’t,” you breathe. “I want you.”

Abby’s hands are warm as they slide beneath your top, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your waist. She pulls back just enough to look you in the eye.

“Still good?” she asks, voice husky.

You nod, already breathless. “Yeah… more than good.”

She kisses you again, deeper this time—more confident now that the walls have dropped. Her tongue brushes yours, slow and teasing, and you moan softly into her mouth. Your hands wander over her arms, her shoulders, the firm planes of her back as she presses her body against yours.

She pulls your tank top up and over your head, dropping it somewhere behind the couch. You feel the cool air on your chest, goosebumps rising—until her mouth replaces it with heat. She kisses down your collarbone, then lower, lips grazing the swell of your breast. When her tongue circles your nipple, your hips twitch against her instinctively.

“Abby…” you whisper, voice shaking.

She hums against your skin, her teeth gently grazing before she sucks just enough to make you arch. “You’re gorgeous,” she murmurs, kissing across your chest. “You always have been.”

Her hands glide down your sides, hooking into the waistband of your shorts. You lift your hips to help her, and she drags them down slowly, watching your face the whole time. When her fingers slide between your thighs and find just how wet you are, her breath catches.

“God…” she mutters, eyes dark now. “You’re soaked.”

Your legs fall open, shameless, wanting. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” you admit. “Thinking about you.”

That clearly does something to her—because her lips are on your neck again, trailing down your body as her fingers start to move. She touches you slowly, expertly, like she’s not just feeling but learning you. Every moan, every sigh, every shift of your hips is fuel for her focus.

She slides one finger inside you, then two, curling them gently. Her thumb finds your clit and rubs in slow, deliberate circles that make your back arch and your breath catch.

You grip the couch cushion with one hand and her shoulder with the other. “Abby—oh my god—don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” she says, voice low and reverent. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

And you do.

Right there on the couch you’ve shared movie nights and midnight snacks and years of friendship on, you come undone beneath her touch. Your body tightens, your thighs tremble around her hand, and she whispers your name like a prayer as she watches you fall apart.

She kisses you gently as you come down, stroking your side. You pull her close, tugging at her shirt, wanting her the way she wanted you.

“Your turn,” you whisper, and she grins like she’s been waiting years to hear that.

a/n: obsessed over my own writing

[arc-misadventures]

Team JNGR

Where Glynda Goodwitch replaced, Pyrrha Nikos as, Jaune Arc's partner.

~~~

Jaune: Okay... Locker six one nine... six one nine, six one...? Wait? Six one nine...? Upside down it says nine one six?! Is that my actual locker?!

: There are only seven hundred lockers here; Your locker is most six one nine.

Jaune: There are? Oh, then that should be my locker. Thank you...?

: Glynda, Glynda Goodwitch.

Jaune: Jaune Arc short sweet, and the ladies love it~!

Glynda: Do they now?

Jaune: Haha ha haa... No.. But... Well... I hope they will...

Glynda: Well... I wish you the best of luck then.

Jaune: Ha! I'll be using all my luck so I don't die today~!

Glynda: Your enthusiasm while saying that is quite concerning.

Jaune: I hate my life.

Glynda: Noted.

~~~

Jaune: Whoa... That was close. Thanks for the sa... Oh, hi, Glynda!

Glynda: Hello, Jaune. So since I've saved you, does that mean all your luck is used up?

Jaune: Yeah, but there is some good news.

Glynda: That you're not dead?

Jaune: Yeah, well... there's that. But, you stole my luck, and we're now partners! I've got a good luck charm walking around with me now! I'm happy to have you, Lady Luck!

Glynda: Never call me that again, or I'll string you up like a pinata.

Jaune: Okay.

Glynda: Good. So... where are we supposed to go now?

Jaune: Well...

(BOOM!)

Jaune: Towards the sound the sound of gunfire?

Glynda: Alright.

~~~

Ozpin: And, for collecting the, Queen chess pieces, I present to you, Team JNGR, lead by, Jaune Arc.

Jaune: What?

Glynda: Congratulations, Jaune.

Jaune: Uhh... Thanks... Can I have my luck back, Glynda? Cause, I'm going to need it.

Glynda: No.

Jaune: Why not?

Glynda: Because, I'm going to need it to deal with her.

Nora: Whoo! Team JNGR! Let's celebrate with a mountain of pancakes!

Jaune: So she's a little hyper active, that's not going to be a problem.

Glynda: I doubt that...

~~~

: Hello everyone~! I'm Pyrrha Nikos~! I will be your combat instructor~! Let's all get along together, and learn our best with one another's help~!

Jaune: Okay... I'm scared now.

Ren: Why?

Jaune: I have seven sisters, so I know when a woman has a sinister smile. That lady there will rip out your spine, and beat you to death with it!

Ren: That doesn't seem physically possible.

Jaune: But, she could do it with a smile on her face!

Glynda: What? How could you say that?! Don't you know who that is?!

Jaune: Nope.

Glynda: That's Pyrrha Nikos! Seven Time Minstrel Champion! Won the Vytal Festival for, Beacon Academy four Years in a row! Is still on the box of, Pumpkin Pete Cereal since she was a teenager! Does any of that ring a bell?!

Jaune: No, no, and no.

Glynda: What?! You had Pumpkin Pete Cereal this morning, how couldn't you know it was her?!

Ren: To be fair, the girl on the box is a teenager, not a...

Jaune: A mature elegant woman who is a skilled. and seasoned huntress~!

Ren: What, no I was going to say an old lady. Why did you say that?!

Jaune: Ren?! You fool, you've doomed us all!

Ren: What? I'm just pointing out that she's an old laaaaaaaaaaa...?!

(Thud!)

Ren: OW! What was...? Uh oh...

Pyrrha: Hello, Mr. Ren~!

Ren: H-Hi...

Pyrrha: Thank you for volunteering for a one-on-one bought with me, Mr. Ren.

Ren: B-But, I didn't volunteer for anything?!

Pyrrha: Don't worry, Mr. Ren... This old lady will take good care of you! Now hurry up, and get you gear so we may start~!

Ren: Y-Yes, Ma'am!

Jaune: Haa... Ren you absolute fool... You never comment about a ladies age.

Glynda: Oh? Words of experience?

Jaune: I have seven sisters, I know how old they all are, and I know they will kill me if I mention anything about it. Just like how you would kill me if I mentioned anything about it too!

Glynda: What?! Do you seriously think I would do something like that?

Jaune: Yes.

Glynda: What?!

Nora: You can be rather scary at times, Glyn-Glyn.

Glynda: Glyn-Glyn?!

~~~

Jaune: Hey, Ren.

Ren: Hey, Jaune.

Jaune: Have you seen, Glynda? We've got a group project we need to work on, and I want to get ahead start.

Ren: She's in the shower. She said she got rather dirty from her training spar with, Yang.

Jaune: Ahh okay.

Jaune: ...?

Jaune: Where's, Nora?

Ren: She's...? She was just here?

Jaune: Ren, that's a sentence I never want to hear again.

Ren: What? Why are you saying that?

Jaune: Three... Two... One...

Glynda: GAHHH?! NORA?!

Jaune: And, there it is.

Glynda: Nora, get out of here!

Nora: What why can we girls shower together?

Glynda: Get out!

Nora: Come on we can wash each other backs, and compare breast sizes.

Glynda: We will not do such a thing!

Jaune: Okay, Ren we're leaving!

Ren: Ahh come on, we can just put our headphones on, and...

Nora: Ohh~! G-Cup? Nice~!

Glynda: NORA?!!

Jaune: WE'RE GOING NOW!!!

Ren: Whoa, hey?!

~~~

Jaune: Glynda, can I have my 'luck' back?

Glynda: What happened this time.

Jaune: I tried asking, Weiss out to the dance we're having.

Glynda: And?

Jaune: She laughed in my face...

Glynda: She what? You didn't use the guitar did you...?

Jaune: No, you broke it after, Nora used it to wake you up.

Glynda: Oh... Well... She deserved it, she woke me up at three in the morning.

Jaune: I'm not angry at you.

Jaune: Anymore...

Jaune: I'm just pointing it out that you broke it.

Glynda: Okay... So why did, Weiss laugh at you?

Jaune: "Hahaha~! You seriously think someone such as me would ever go out on a date with someone like you?! Hahaha~!"

Glynda: ...

Glynda: S-Seriously...?

Jaune: Yep.

Glynda: That's horrible.

Jaune: I've had worse.

Glynda: You've had worse?!

Jaune: Been stood up. Been cheated on. Had drinks thrown on my face. I was used as a, Trojan Horse to get to my sisters. And, been laughed at.

Glynda: Seriously...?

Jaune: Girls often say that the worse thing that can happen is that the girl say is, 'no.' Girls don't understand how vicious they can be...

Glynda: Well... I'm sorry to hear that...

Jaune: Ahh... whatever... I guess I'll have to ask someone else.

Glynda: Oh, so... who are you going to ask?

Jaune: I don't know... Maybe, Yang?

Glynda: If you want to... You could go with me?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Y-You want to be my date at the school dance?

Glynda: N-N-N-No! J-Just your dancing partner! It's... it's not a date...

Jaune: Oh well... Thanks! I'd like that, Glynda. Even if we're teammates, it's still better than flying solo.

Glynda: Yeah... Solo...

~~~

Ruby: Hi, Jaune!

Jaune: Hey, Rubes.

Ruby: How are you doing, Jaune?

Jaune: I'm fine, just waiting on my dancing partner. What about you, you look like you're about to fall over.

Ruby: I AM?! Weiss forced me to wear these silly lady stilts! I can barely walk in these...?! These?! Torture shoes?!!

Jaune: You just need to wear them more, and break them in.

Ruby: NEVER!

Jaune: Pff haha!

Ruby: So, you have a date? Who!

Jaune: Well, no I don't have a date. But, Glynda said she'd be my partner at the dance, so... dancing partner.

Ruby: Sounds like a date.

Jaune: It... It does...

Ruby: Then why are you say you're waiting for your date, but waiting for your, 'dancing partner.'

Jaune: We're teammates, partners. I don't want to mess up our bound by making it... romantic.

Ruby: That... makes sense.

Jaune: Yeah, so viewing things in this light will prevent such things from happening!

Jaune: That is until I see her in her dress...

Ruby: What are you talking abooooooooooo...?

Glynda: H-Hey, Jaune.

Ruby: How can they...? How is it...?

Jaune: How... Glynda you look... you look gorgeous.

Glynda: T-Thank you, Jaune. You look good yourself.

Jaune: Aww come on, I'm just wearing my school uniform, you're the one dressed like a queen.

Glynda: Oh?! Well... S-Shall we head to the dance floor now?

Jaune: Shall we then, Lady Luck?

Glynda: What did I say about calling me that?

Jaune: Just let me have this one.

Glynda: Oh alright.

Ruby: ...

Ruby: Are they secretly dating, or what?

Nora: No, but by the end of the school I'll make sure they are!

Ruby: Oh. Need a hand with that?

Nora: Yes!

~~~

Glynda: I'm sorry, Miss Nikos! We tried to stop, Nora but she was too fast!

Pyrrha: I am accustomed, thanks to my coworkers... to dealing with caffeine highs. However, I have never seen one as destructive as this one.

Glynda: Ah ha... yeah that's...

Pyrrha: Miss Goodwitch.

Glynda: Yes, Ma'am?

Pyrrha: Please use your semblance to clean up this mess, I will deal with, Miss Valkyrie.

Glynda: Yes, Ma'am!

Pyrrha: This is the fourth times, Miss Valkyrie has caused such an... incident. I have already told your team leader, Mr. Arc to keep an eye on her. Do make sure that this doesn't happen again.

Glynda: Yes, Ma'am!

Pyrrha: Good, now if you'll excuse me.

Glynda: ...

Glynda: GRRR!

Glynda: This is ridiculous! Every time, Nora goes on one of her caffeine, sugar high destruction sprees I'm the one getting in trouble! And, being told to fix it as well! What am, I her mother?! I'm too young to be a mother!

Jaune: You'd be one hell of a milf then.

Glynda: What?

Jaune: What?

~~~

Glynda: Ow! Owowowow!

Jaune: Hang on, hang on... I got you.

Glynda: Ahh shit... fucking, Chimera's...

Jaune: You're okay, you're okay, I've got you.

Glynda: I fuck up...

Jaune: No, no you didn't.

Glynda: I should have watched my footing otherwise I wouldn't have fallen down like that...

Jaune: No, it's no one fault. We took down the, Chimera we just didn't think the landing would be so violent. We all got knocked over, so you twisted your ankle that's no biggy.

Glynda: A sprained ankle broke my aura!

Jaune: Which is why I am giving my dear partner a piggyback ride until we reach the evac ship.

Glynda: I-I can walk, you don't have to do this!

Jaune: Only if you want to break it.

Glynda: But, I...?!

Jaune: Glyn... I'm your partner... please let me do this for you.

Glynda: Oh... Okay...

Jaune: Alright, lets get going then.

Glynda: T-Thank you, Jaune...

Jaune: Think nothing of it, Glyn.

Glynda: But, don't say anything about my breasts pushing against your back...

Jaune: Hmm? Did you say something?

Glynda: NOTHING!

~~~

Nora: Whoo! You did it! We're in the finals!

Jaune: Thanks guys. That was a tough one.

Ren: You okay, Glynda?

Glynda: Yeah... just realizing that I still have a lot to learn.

Nora: So, Jaune, are you ready to take the championship trophy for, Team JNGR!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: What?

Ren: You'll be fighting the in the finals for, Team JNGR. Didn't we tell you that?

Jaune: No?!

Ren: Oh... Well you are.

Jaune: Why me?! I thought we agreed to send, Glynda to fight in the finals, not me?

Nora: I have no memory of such a thing.

Ren: Well, that was the plan, but...

Glynda: I barely held my own out there. I'm not nearly as good at close quarters combat as I need to be to win this. You're the best duelist in our team, if anyone of us can do it, it's you, Jaune.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Haa... Okay... Okay, I'll do it.

Nora: Yay!

Ren: We're counting on you, Jaune!

Jaune: More like dodging responsibility...

~~~

Jaune: Okay... any moment now...

Glynda: Are you nervous, Jaune?

Jaune: What? What, I'm not nervous at all! I'm just bearing all the weight, and expectations of our team to win this competition! I'm not. I'm not nervous at all?!

Glynda: Jaune, Jaune! Look at me... You can do this. Okay? You can do this! You are a brave, wise, and tactically minded person. If anyone can win this for us, it's you, Jaune.

Jaune: I just... Ughhh.... I'm not someone who does these competitions. I've never had any good luck with these things before. I always loose, at best I do is third place. So... I can't help, but be nervous of all of this. I'll do it! But... Gods I am so nervous!

Glynda: Oh well... would you like some luck...?

Jaune: Pff... Even if you gave me my luck back, I don't think I'll be able to win this with my luck.

Glynda: What if... What if I gave you some of my luck too?

Jaune: Ohh? What's this? Lady Luck is gracing me with her divine presence?

Glynda: Lady Luck?

Jaune: Oh crap! That's right, you threatened to hang me up like a pinata, and beat me with a stick!

Glynda: I didn't threaten to beat you up with a stick!

Jaune: You threatened to tie me up like a pinata, the being hit with a stick was implied!

Glynda: Oh well... I... I.. I don't really mind if you call me, Lady Luck...

Jaune: You... You don't?

Glynda: Only if its you! I don't mind being your, Lady Luck.

Jaune: O-Oh... Okay... That's umm... T-Thank you, Glynda. Or, rather... My, Lady Luck.

Glynda: Your, Lady~?

Jaune: Oh?! Well that's just...?!

: And, the representative of, Beacon Academy from the legendary Team JNGR in the finals! Jaune Arc!

Jaune: Ahh shit! I gotta get going!

Glynda: Jaune wait!

Jaune: What is it, I got to...?! Mph?!

Glynda: Ta-Aahhh~! For luck~!

Jaune: G-G-Glynda?! You just...?! Your lips?!

: Jaune Arc? Hello?

Jaune: I-I gotta go! But, we're having words after this!

Glynda: Good luck, Jaune~!

Jaune: The fuck is going on?!

Glynda: ...

Glynda: EEEEE~!!!

Glynda: I did it! I did it! I finally did it!

Coco: ...

Glynda: ...

Coco: ...

Glynda: Uhh... H-Hi, Coco... w-what's up?

Coco: You've got a thing for, Bunny Boy eh?

Glynda: Y-Yes...

Coco: Nice.

~~~

Jaune: Whoo! We did it!

Glynda: We won!

Jaune: Vytal Festival Champions!

Glynda: Champions!

Jaune: AH HA!

Jaune: Ahh! Ahh... Uhh...?

Jaune: Glyn? Where's, Nora and Ren?

Glynda: Oh? They're out in the town.

Jaune: When will they be coming back?

Glynda: Some time tomorrow.

Jaune: Tomorrow? But, why aren't they come back here.

Glynda: Because, unlike you, Nora can get a hint.

Jaune: And, that hint is?

Glynda: Ahh... you adorable dork~!

Jaune: What did you just...?! WHAA?! Ooph! Glyn, what are you...?! G-Glynda...?

Glynda: Well? How's this for a hint, Jaune~?

Jaune: Oh Gods...

Jaune: But, why. I know we've said some... flirtatious remarks to one another, but I just thought it was playful banter... You actually like me?

Glynda: Well... I thought you were a bit of a dork, and bumbling idiot when we first met...

Jaune: Fair...

Glynda: But, I got to know you; To see how you act under pressure. How you lead us all into battle. How you will comfort us when we are under stress. I saw a man that I was someone that annoyed me, to someone I liked, to someone I admired, to someone I loved.

Jaune: You love me...?

Glynda: With all my heart.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Well, it's good to hear that...

Glynda: It is...?

Jaune: Yeah, because I love you too, Glynda.

Glynda: Y-You do?!

Jaune: I really do. I never wanted to say anything, or do anything... I-I was scared that if I did anything I would ruin everything we made. I don't think we would do well with four more years of school if we hated each other.

Glynda: That would be quite difficult...

Jaune: But, now that I know my, Lady Luck desires me... I will make sure she knows how deep my devotion is for her...

Glynda: Then show me. My, Viliant Knight~!

Jaune: As you desire my, Lady Luck~!

~~~

Epilogue

~~~

Yang: So, Goldie~!

Glynda: Yang?

Yang: So you, and lover boy finally got together?

Glynda: Yeah?

Yang: So tell, how luck...?!

Glynda: If the next words out of your mouth mention anything about me being my boyfriends, Lady Luck, and involves the word, 'lucky.' I will hang you upside down, and dunk your hair into a vat of neon green hair dye. Understood?

Yang: ...

Yang: O-Okay...

Glynda: Good.

Blake: But, how big is he?

Glynda: Okay, neon pink for you.

Blake: W-W-Wait... NO?!

///

I did it! Glynda, and Jaune just like I said. @lar-mx