#(i know. I know what you’re trying to say! I understand how you got to this conclusion!)

[luveline]

oh I think about kbd daily

—Steve has a small surprise for you after dinner. mom!reader, 3k

“What’s wrong with Dove?” you ask. 

Dove lays on the floor. Avery sits beside her, rubbing back with eyes trained on the TV. “Daddy told her no. She wanted to climb on the counter in the kitchen. Then she bit him.” 

You sigh. It’s not the best scene to come home too, but you can make it work. “I got the cherry pops,” you tell her. 

Avery grins. “Awesome.” 

You cross the room and squat in front of them. Avery accepts a kiss on the forehead, but Dove whimpers when you touch her. “Are you sulking, Dovie?” you ask. 

She makes an annoyed sound. 

“You’ve been biting poor daddy?” you ask her. 

“No.” 

“Are you lying to me?”

She cries. You smile ruefully. “I’m just asking if you bit him, baby.” 

“I didn’t.” 

You don’t believe her, but sometimes, sometimes, it’s better to agree with a sulking child rather than tell them off. You don’t want to make a spoiled kid, but you don’t want to make the whole thing into a big scene when Avery’s just trying to watch TV. You’re sure Steve gave Dove his own warning when the bite happened initially. 

You rub her back. 

“How are you, Avery?” you ask softly, looking at your eldest with a fondness yet to waver. Long years of loving her have passed in the blink of an eye.

“I’m okay, mom.”

“Did you have a good day?” 

“It was good! Daddy put those rolled up sandwiches in my lunch and everybody was jealous. And we made paintings, but mine was still wet at home time.” 

You give her a proud kiss. “Good, baby, that’s good. Where’s Bethie, do you know?” 

“In the kitchen.” 

Dove whines. 

You slip a hand under her soft belly and turn her onto her back. She glares at you through pink eyes, clearly tired and not coping with it very well. “It’s okay, honey. I missed you, I wanted to see your beautiful face. Can I make you a buppy?” 

Dove likes the sounds of it, finally sitting up where she’s been lounging on the floor. 

You give Avery another proud kiss. “Thank you for rubbing her back,” you say. 

Avery grins, her hands reaching for you before you can stand for a quick hug. You pat her skinny shoulder, wondering to yourself if she needs to be eating more snacks. “I missed you, too, mom.” 

“Oh, I missed you,” you tell her. She’d never understand just how much. “Do you need anything from the kitchen, mm? Maybe a yoghurt or something?” 

“Dad says dinner is nearly ready.” 

“But do you want yoghurt?” 

She nods her head. 

Pleased with your first assessment of the evening, you dump your keys and handbag and remember to take your shoes off, shoving them half-heartedly near the door. They send a foam soccer ball tumbling toward the corner of the room. 

You drag yourself to the kitchen and press open the ajar door. Steve is not where you’d assumed, but Beth is there at the kitchen table with her unicorn stuffie, it’s purple fur shiny but scruffy under her hand. She’s talking to him, and seems shyly caught when she sees you. 

“Hi, baby. Hi, Snuffles.” 

Beth smiles. “He says hi.” 

You open the cabinet by the fridge and pull out a clean bottle. It isn’t sterilised but it doesn’t need to be for Dove. She isn’t drinking formula, either, just cow’s milk straight from the jug. You grab a yoghurt for Avery while the fridge is open, then remember the box of cherry ice pops in your handbag and double back for them before they can melt. As soon as they’re in, you go back to the fridge for the yoghurts. 

“Beth, you want a yoghurt?” you ask. 

“Dad says dinner’s nearly ready.” 

“I know, but they’re only small. Peach?” you offer. 

Beth reaches for one. You give her a yoghurt and a little spoon, pressing your nose into her hair for a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back to ask about your day, okay?” 

“Okie dokie.” 

“And Snuffles’, too!” 

Beth giggles as you leave. You give Avery her own yoghurt and a spoon, and you give Dove her bottle. She shoves it in without looking and from that moment on her eyes are locked onto the screen. 

There. Complicated, but done. 

You press a hand to your head and think after your husband. He isn’t usually quiet or unseen. Most days you get home to him in the kitchen trying to make dinner, or sitting on the couch with one or three kids in his lap. There are no signs of him, besides his jacket on the hanger by the door. He’s still in the building, you think to yourself with a laugh. 

You turn out of the living room and find him rushing down the stairs. 

“Hey!” he says, scraping wet hair back from his face, his arms already open for you as he reaches the bottom step. 

“Hey!” you say back, smiling, not expecting his arms as they wrap around you. Nice arms. Nice husband. Smells like himself, almost a decade of familiarity in the way he covers your back with his arms. “You’re in a good mood for a chew toy.” 

“Fucking–” Steve laughs and squeezes your waist. “Yeah, I’m in a good mood, my girl’s home.” He gives your head a kiss and peels away, offering his arm out, evidence of little teeth in fat of his forearm. 

“How’d you handle that?” 

“Well, I shrieked like a kid and I did raise my voice, you know, like a super jerk, but she did try to bite through my skin.” 

One of the teeth marks is a puncture, and the rest of the bite will be a purple bruise by tomorrow. 

“I think that’s alright,” you say, touching his bruise, then his chin with the back of your hand. You stroke to his cheek. 

“You’re obsessed with me,” he says. 

“No.” 

“You are. This is sad. This is a level of obsession you should be ashamed of.” 

“No way.” 

“It’s sad,” he whispers, angling his head down to yours. 

You must’ve done something right today, the way he kisses you. Must look cute, or must’ve said the right thing, touched him the right way, his kissing long and gentle and loving, warming, tipping into steadiness as your lips part under his. Honestly, it’s a little shocking how deeply he kisses you, like a window into one of your more tender moments, right there in the middle of the hall. 

When he pulls away, you take his hand. “Are you okay?” you ask. 

“Fine. Just missed you.” 

“Huh…” You press his hand to your stomach. “Long day?” 

“No, it’s been okay, really. Apart from Dove turning cannibal, I have no complaints. Avery’s Avery, and Beth’s Beth.” 

Which is to say, Avery’s a sweetheart and Beth her quiet companion. The girls are actually, somehow, well-behaved, and you don’t have a clue how it happened because Steve aggravates and you think every problem can be solved with a cuddle. Dove seems more accurate to what you’d expected from one of Steve’s children, honestly, which isn’t to say she isn’t lovely or sweet or beautiful, you expected all of that too, but wow, can she get wound up. 

His good mood is too good, though. Yes, your kids are nice, yes, you have a lot to be happy for, but he’s practically beaming as he slips his hand behind your back and guides you to the living room. 

Dove sees her father and goes limp with guilt. She pulls the bottle from her mouth and pouts at him, her eyes silver at the waterline. “Daddy, I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “Are you mad?”

He rubs your back. “You know I’m not mad, it just hurts when somebody bites you, it surprised me. It really hurt, honey.” 

“I’m sorry.”  

“I know,” he says, “wanna kiss it better for me?” 

Dove abandons her bottle on the couch and struggles down to the floor. Even that turns his heart, you can tell, so it doesn’t surprise you when he takes her up into his arms the moment she’s close enough and kisses her cheek. “Me first,” he says. 

“Sorry I bit you,” she mumbles. 

“Daddy’s not mad,” he mumbles back, “it just hurt, that’s the thing. I don’t like being bitten.” 

“I won’t do it again,” she says clumsily. 

“Good! Thank you,” he says, grinning at you as she kisses his cheek, like, look at how freaking adorable she is. “Mom made your buppy? Are you gonna have dinner, honey, or should we sit down for a nap?” 

Steve ends up sequestered with Dove for a nap in the corner of the couch. He looks good, arguably at his finest with Dove tucked under his chin and his hand spread out across her back. She dozes and sniffles. He smiles against her hair. 

You spy on them from the kitchen doorway, sipping a cold glass of water. Dinner’s done, cooling on the counter on sheet trays. Steve’s made the usual, a big tray of buttered, roasted veggies and pot pie. There are pork chops for Beth and a few extra in case anyone wants their own, and there’s a bowl of peas because Dove loves them. He’s such a good guy, you think. You each have jobs to do, he has to make dinner, you have to wash the dishes after, but it doesn’t make it feel less true. He makes coming home the best part of every weekday. 

Another ten minutes and he’s kicked the big bean bag into shape, laying Dove down for a nap there. He spreads her pink baby blanket over her and fawns when it fails to cover her feet. 

“She’s getting so big,” he says, scratching his hand through his hair as he makes his way to you. 

“And so vocal,” you say. 

“I noticed that too, she’s saying more words at one time.” He puts a hand on your waist for no reason at all. 

“Maybe ‘cos Ave was home.” 

“You remember that day she woke up and all her pants didn’t fit anymore?” he asks. “It’s like that.” 

She would have only been four. Beth was still a baby. You’d made your way into Avery’s room as Steve gave a grizzly Beth her bottle, and, upon getting her dressed, discovered all of her pants were now too short. Her legs must’ve grown overnight. She hadn’t felt a thing. 

Beth gets growing pains something awful, but Avery keeps on shooting up without complaint. You’re sure she’ll be taller than Steve by the time she’s in high school. How beautiful she’ll be then. 

“What?” Steve asks you. 

“Nothing, just thinking. Time moves fast.” 

“If you don’t stop and look around–”

“Thanks, Ferris.” 

Steve moves you into the kitchen, tipping your head aside to kiss the line of your neck, and then splitting for the cabinet where you keep the plates. “You’re welcome.” 

You plate dinner. The oldest girls wander in and sit in their seats. Steve fills a carafe with lemonade and laughs when Avery makes a face, her first sip sour, cold, and carbonated. “It’s fizzing,” she says. 

“It’s soda,” Steve says. 

“You should warn me, dad!” 

“Is that okay?” you ask Beth, having cut up her two pork chops into small pieces. “Yeah? Do you want some more broccoli?” 

“Mommy, no one wants more broccoli.” 

“Don’t be like that, you know daddy makes the best broccoli, it’s got honey and salt and pepper–”

“And garlic butter,” Steve says. 

You sit in the chair beside Beth’s and drag your plate in front of you. “I’m gonna have more.” 

“Okay, I will have more too,” she says. 

“Want some green beans?” you ask. 

“Um, no. Just broccoli.”

Avery stabs at her green beans enthusiastically. She eats every bit of food on her plate no matter the colour, and she asks Steve for seconds, which he plates up for her immediately, despite being mid-mouthful. Under the table, he pushes his ankle against yours. It’s a quiet, normal dinner. Even Snuffles gets a bite of pork. 

“That alright?” Steve asks you. 

“Amazing, honey, like usual. Really good, I don’t know how you make vegetables taste unhealthy.” 

“All the butter,” he says, rubbing his ankle against yours. 

“Are you done?” you ask. 

He pushes the serving plate of veggies toward you. “Go ahead, beautiful.” 

You take what’s left of the veggies. Avery gets another slice of pot pie. Beth finishes all of her pork and a few of the potatoes. The broccoli, despite her wanting more, go mostly untouched. All in all, everyone’s fed. 

“You did make a plate for Dove,” you ask suddenly, worried you’ve been greedy. 

“Yeah, I did, don’t worry. I made her enough peas to feed her three times over. And I can make more, if you want more.” 

You try not to flush. It’s not like Steve’s unaware of your appetite, and he doesn’t expect you to survive off of salad and saltines, but you’re still embarrassed enough to shake your head vehemently. “Yikes.” 

“Stop, you’re fine.” He takes a square of roasted potato off of your plate, wipes his hands in a napkin, and squeezes you by the shoulders. “Just gonna check Dove.” 

Beth scrambles off of her seat at the first opening. “I’m done.” 

“Can I make you a PB–”

“No!” She grins at you. “No thanks, I’m full.”

“You gotta have oatmeal later, then.” 

She nods like this is fine. “Yes, thank you.” She leaves for the living room. You hear her shy, “Thanks for dinner, daddy,” and Steve’s adoring, “You’re so welcome, thank you for eating it. Come here, let me give you a kiss.” Giggling and the sound of smacking pecks follows. 

Avery sits up. “Can I have another drink?” 

You cram the last of the broccoli into your mouth and stand. You pour her lemonade and start stacking the plates to carry them over to the sink. 

“No, I’ll help!” Avery says. 

“Baby, it’s okay. Drink your drink and have five minutes. You don’t wanna get sick.” 

“You haven’t had five minutes.” 

You laugh. “My body’s bigger than yours, so it only needs the one. It’s really okay, just finish your dinner and you can help me dry the knives and forks. I’ll save them for last.” 

Steve returns. “Girls,” he says, tucking the chairs under the table, “I didn’t expect you guys to be so hungry, I forgot about the secret.” 

You scrape what’s left on your plate into the trash. “What secret?” 

He beams again. 

“I knew there was something up,” you say, dumping your plate in the sink. 

“I made something else.” 

You lift your head in a rush. You know exactly what he’s gonna say before you ask. “You made–”

“Your favourite,” he says cockily, crossing his arms over his chest. “No biggie. Ave, you got room for dessert, babe?” 

“I think so. You might have to do that thing to my tummy.” 

Steve is a professional at post dinner tummy rubs. What is it about kids and their tummy aches?

After everything —Avery finishing her dinner, washing the dishes, drying and putting them away, turning on the heat for the night, gathering a load of laundry for the machine— Steve sits down in the armchair, and you sit in his lap. A bowl of dessert with two spoons on your chest. 

“If I’m too heavy,” you say. 

“You’re never too heavy, I hate when you say that shit.” 

“You always try to get me in your lap, that’s why.” 

“This is where you’re supposed to be.” He cuts into the ice cream with his spoon. “You’re not heavy. If you ever get too heavy for me, I’ll just get bigger.”

“I’d like to get smaller eventually.” 

“Stop it. You’re perfect.” 

You let your face rest above his shoulder. “Shut up.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, shut up.” 

“I’m never shutting up.” He offers you his spoon. The point of two was to make it so he didn’t do this, but he does it anyway, wiping the corner of your mouth when you pull back. “Messy.” 

“I can’t believe you made this.”

“I knew it’d make you happy.” 

You turn his face and kiss his cheek softly. A lingering kiss, trying to press affection into his every pore. “I love you.” 

“I know.” He shifts your weight, as though hoping to pull you closer despite a lack of space. This close you can see the freckles under his eyes and across his nose, just a couple, light brown and sparse. His eyes are relaxed, his eyelashes long in the corners and tangling with the ones at the bottom. What use does he have for such nice eyes?

“What are we gonna do with the rest of the evening? You’ve already showered,” you say, gaze back to your dessert. 

“I gotta give the bathroom a clean, and then nothing.” He puts his hand to your face, the very side of his palm against your cheek, framing you. He turns his hand completely and rubs your chin with his thumb. “I think I had one of those days where I really missed you.” 

“Like I’d been gone longer than I was.”

“Exactly.”

You hum with the pleasure of being liked so much and close your eyes. Predictable, Steve leans down to kiss you. It’s all he seems to do lately, a hundred kisses a day. 

“Okay, help me eat this so we can snuggle,” he says. 

“I’m not snuggling with you.” 

“Cuddle?” 

“No, don’t think so.” 

“A hug where we’re both laying down?” he suggests. 

“That’s far more reasonable.” 

He laughs, picking up his spoon again. Your face is cold without his touch, the other hand slipping down to your hip. 

When the dessert is done, he sets the bowl aside and pulls you against his, majority of your back to his chest, his face a heat at the side of your own. He crosses his arms over your stomach and holds it. 

“I wouldn’t mind doing this forever,” he says. 

“But who will look after our poor children?” you ask, letting your eyes slip closed in bliss. 

“If we have a couple more they can look after each other.” 

You like the sounds of that. The first part, not so much the second. “Just a couple,” you say. 

—

kbd au

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 2 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

Sam’s words die in the back of her throat when she sees me and for a moment we just stare at each other.

It’s been five years since we last saw each other, and even though I would still recognize her anywhere, she’s changed a lot.

She’s no longer a troubled teenager who relies on drugs and petty crime to feel good. No, she’s all grown up now, like me, and despite her tired and worry filled eyes she looks healthy. She looks good in her green jacket and with her hair up in a claw clip.

A wave of bitterness washes over me and I have half a mind to turn back around and walk out of the room again.

She came back for Tara, but she didn’t come back for me when I needed her the most.

I know it’s unfair to compare the two situations, I wasn’t attacked by a psycho, but I did almost die along with my parents.

“Y/N.” Her voice is soft, unlike the last time I heard it when she screamed at me to stop calling her.

I swallow harshly and try to keep any emotions off my face. “Hello, Sam.”

The twins share a confused look, and Wes and Amber watch Tara to see how she’s reacting to this unexpected reunion.

“You’re hurt.” She gets up from my chair next to the bed and takes a hesitant step toward me. “Tara said you were stabbed saving her.” I nod and when she takes another step forward, I instinctively take a step back. She freezes and something like hurt flits across her face.

It makes my insides clench up because I never thought I’d ever be the reason for that look on her face, but then again, she’s hurt me so much in the past, I think stepping back because I don’t want to be hugged or touched by her seems like a normal reaction.

She goes to say something, her brown eyes soft and pleading, but then the door opens and in steps a guy I don’t recognize.

“Sam do you want anything from the— Oh, hello,” he smiles when he sees me, oblivious to the tension in the room. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Richie, Sam’s boyfriend.”

My heart drops. Boyfriend. Right.

I force myself not to look at Sam and shake his hand when he offers it to me. “Y/N. I’m. . .” Sam’s best friend? No, not anymore. “I’m Tara’s friend.”

His smile brightens and he says, “Ah yes, you’re the one who saved her, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say quietly, shifting my arm in the sling.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he continues. “What you did is very impressive. Not many people would have tackled a psychotic killer with a knife.”

My gaze darts to Sam for a split second. She’s sat back down next to Tara again, but her eyes haven’t left me. There’s now a guilty look on her face and when she realizes I’m looking at her, she quickly averts her eyes and buries her hands in her lap.

“Yes, well, it’s not like I had a choice,” I snap. I acted because I knew if I didn’t, Tara would get killed. I didn’t do it to come off as braver or heroic, and something about being praised for it rubs me the wrong way.

Richie’s eyes widen and he quickly tries to back-pedal. “No, of course not. I understand. I’m just saying—“

I clench my jaw and lift a hand to stop him “Save it. I don’t care.”

Technically, he’s done nothing wrong, but I already don’t like him and it’s not because he’s Sam’s boyfriend. No, that’s not the reason. Not at all.

“Y/N!”

Oh hell no.

“What, Sam?” I ask, pinning her down with a challenging glare.

She flinches and frowns. I’ve never, never, talked to her like this before.

“I—“

She’s once again interrupted just like when Richie entered the room. This time, however, it’s by Amber who speaks up with a sheepish smile on her face. “Guys, Tara is really tired. Maybe we should give her some space.”

I stop glaring at Sam and look at Tara. She does look pretty tired. Her eyes are glassy and it looks like every breath she takes is exhausting.

The twins and Wes agree, leaving with Amber after Amber gives Tara a hug. Sam gets up as well, but Tara asks her to stay and since I promised I wouldn’t leave until Ghostface is caught, I stay as well.

Richie looks back and forth between Sam and me, now no longer oblivious to the tension, before taking a seat on the chair in the corner.

Of course he’s staying, too. For fuck’s sake. . .

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I ignore Sam who’s once again looking at me, and focus on Tara.

“Do you still have my inhaler?” she asks and I shake my head.

“No, I’m sorry. I dropped it in your driveway, but I can go and get it if you want,” I offer.

No matter what terms Sam and I are on, I know she won’t let anything happen to Tara if I’m not here, and if Tara wants me to go and get it, I’ll go.

Leaving will also give them a chance to catch up properly and while I’m out, I can go home and take a quick shower.

There’s still some dried blood in my hair that I want to get rid of and I’m itching to get out of the shirt the hospital gave me after they cut mine off me.

“Please. . .”

I smile reassuringly and squeeze Tara’s uninjured leg over the comforter. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.” My face hardens and I look at Sam, shooting her a pointed look.

You better keep her safe. . .

She nods and straightens up a little. I turn and leave before she can try and start another conversation. On my way out, I spare one last glance at Richie who smiles tentatively and waves.

Moron.

Eleven years ago

I jump on my bed, face first, and groan into the pillow. Today’s been a long day.

I didn’t have school because we’re on winter break, but hockey practice is still being held and today’s practice was particularly long and grueling.

My dad even laughed at how tired I looked after picking me up, and my mom made sure I had an extra large serving of dinner.

Now, I just want to sleep. I’ve eaten and showered, and I’m too tired to watch a movie on my laptop like I normally would. So, I wiggle around in an attempt to get under the comforter without getting up.

A moment later though, I stop at the familiar sound of someone tapping on my window. There’s only one person who climbs the tree outside my window to sneak into my room.

“It’s open,” I mumble with a smile on my face. I don’t bother getting up, or even turning around because I know she’ll join me on the bed in a few seconds anyway.

The window slides open and there’s some shuffling before her feet land on my floor. She shuts the window again, and my smile widens because any moment now she’ll jump on the bed.

I wait, and wait, but nothing happens.

“Sam?”

No answer.

My smile dims and when I hear a sniffle, I frown. I finally turn around and the sight that greets me makes me curse myself for not turning around earlier.

Standing in the middle of my room in nothing but a tank top and sweatpants is Sam. She’s shivering and has goosebumps all over her body, but that’s not what concerns me the most. No, what concerns me the most are the tears that are streaming down her face.

“Sam?” Alarmed, I shuffle off the bed and cup her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. “What’s wrong?”

Her brown eyes are red rimmed and her bottom lip quivers. Once again though, she doesn’t answer. Instead, she rushes forward and wraps her arms around my waist.

“Hey. . .” I return the hug and bring one hand up to the back of her head when she pushes her face against the side of my neck. “What’s wrong?”

She still doesn’t answer, so I figure she doesn’t want to talk about it.

What going on? Did she have a fight with Tara, or her mom?

We continue hugging without saying anything, just basking in each other’s company until Sam starts shivering.

“Sammy,” I try to break our hug, but she whines and claws at my back to keep me close. “You’re freezing.”

“I don’t care,” she whispers, and the defeat in her voices makes my heart hurt.

“But I do,” I argue softly, reaching behind me to unclasp her arms from around me. “Here, take this.” I take off my hoodie and slip it over her head. “There, much better.” I make sure it fits properly, un-bunching the bottom and fidgeting with the too-long sleeves before pulling her over to the bed.

She wordlessly slips under the covers and drags me down with her, cuddling up to me as soon as I’m within reach.

She stopped crying a while ago, but she’s obviously still feeling vulnerable, so I pull her closer and run my hand up and down her back.

This isn’t the first time we’ve found ourselves in this position, but it feels different than any other times before. Something has changed and I have yet to find out what it is.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep because the next time I open my eyes, it’s seven in the morning. I stretch and turn to maybe get some more sleep, but then I realize the bed next to me is empty.

“Sam?” I ask, but Sam is gone. The window is open and the spot next to me is still warm, so it can’t have been long since she left.

Present

I step out of the elevator and greet Deputy Vinson and a nurse who are chatting at the nurses’ station.

They nod and smile in greeting before getting back to their conversation, and I make my way to Tara’s room.

I feel much better now, having showered and changed into a new set of clothes. I took a cab from the hospital to Tara’s, grabbed her inhaler, and then drove my car back to my own apartment.

I also called Liam and Paige, updating them on the situation and telling them about Sam’s unexpected appearance.

They know how I felt about her in high school since the three of us have been friends since middle school. They offered to come to the hospital and act as a kind of buffer between Sam and me, but I obviously declined.

I’m more than capable of dealing with Sam’s presence, even if dealing with it is simply ignoring her or interacting with her as little as possible. She broke my heart a long time ago and even though I’d be lying if I said I was over it, I know it’s best to just stay away from her.

Someone rounding the corner and crashing into me at full speed rips me out of my thoughts. I stumble slightly and grasp at the wall to stop us from going down together.

“Hey! Watch where—“ Crap. So much for staying away.

My mouth snaps shut when I realize who ran into me, and then my eyes widen when I see the panicked look on her face.

“What’s going on?”

Sam clings to me and tries to push me back, away from where she just came from, and for a moment all the hurt, anger, and despair she’s caused is forgotten.

“Somebody tried to kill me in the break room!” she cries and without thinking, I wrap my arm that is not in the sling around her and pull her closer.

“What?!”

Our shouting alerts Deputy Vinson, who comes running over with his gun in hand.

“In the break room you say?” he asks, and Sam nods frantically. Without another word, he dashes off, gun raised and shoulders tense.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, breathless even though Sam’s the one who literally just fought off the killer. Her panicked eyes dart around the place, still sensing danger in every shadow, so I tighten my grip on her and repeat myself. “Sam, are you hurt?”

She finally looks at me and shakes her head, panting. “N-No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” I look her over but she seems to be telling the truth because I can’t spot anything amiss except maybe her disheveled hair which is no longer in its claw clip. She’s also taken her jacket off and is now only wearing a white t shirt.

She nods again which causes a few strands of hair to fall in her face. I instinctively reach up and tuck a piece behind her ear only to freeze a heartbeat later when my knuckles brush against her cheek.

What am I doing?

Sam is frozen as well and her brown eyes are darting all over my face, a storm of emotions raging in their depths.

I clear my throat and blink rapidly, stepping back. It makes her hands drop off my chest and I hate how I miss the warmth of her palms through my sweater.

“Y/N. . .”

“Sam!” Richie comes rushing around the corner and when he spots us he’s quick to pull Sam into a hug. “Oh my God, are you okay? Deputy Vinson just told me what happened.”

“I— Yeah, I’m okay.” Sam eyes linger on me and for a moment an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint flickers across her face. Then, however, she turns her attention to Richie and I look away when she lets him kiss her softly.

“Good. I was so worried,” he mumbles and if the kiss wasn’t too much for me already, his sickeningly sweet tone definitely is. I clench my jaw and brush past them, absolutely hating the hurt that settles on my chest and makes it hard for me to breathe.

Focus, Y/N. Tara needs you.

________________________________________________

This one’s a little bit shorter than the last, but I had to get some of the backstory stuff out of the way before the story picks up properly.

(Not proofread yet)

Tag list:

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Reading While Cockwarming Them

Warnings: MDNI, PIV, general sex, teasing, some name calling and sadism in Geto's part. A/n: Found an old WIP that I half wrote then gave up on because I couldn't find the inspiration. I'm glad I got back into it because I almost feel like my JJK writing has become rusty nowadays, and I'm thrilled to find some ideas that might still feel new.

The book is open on the bed, right under your pretty, flushed face as you kneel on all fours, Satoru’s cock nestled comfortably in your slick pussy. 

Your mouth is moving, and you see the little black characters on the page, but your speech is slurred and syrupy as you try to form intelligible sounds. 

“The…he-he-ro…isn…ways…to…”

“What’s that baby?” Satoru taunts as he slides out of your drooling cunt, all patience and sweet smiles. He feels how your walls clench in protest as you try to keep him in, his tip almost out of your tight, wet, hole.

“Toru please…” you whine, knowing his enticing length was right there, but he was getting off on seeing you swallow your words. Determination that had been ample in hand at the beginning of this session had now gone flying out the window. You just had to insist that Satoru couldn’t fuck you dumb with his cock, denying his claims, and now you’re forced to swallow your pride as you realize you can’t focus on a damn thing. The letters all look like squiggles to you and your tongue refuses to cooperate, only allowing you to pant and babble nonsense.

“You’re the one that said you would read me a bedtime story.” He arches his hips away from you as he feels you lift your ass, hoping to slip him back in. “And so far I can’t understand a word you’re saying. I’m hoping this helps.”

You moan in frustration and try to focus your hazed mind on the print. “The hero isn’t always right. As told in the story we’re about to embark on-” Your breath hitches as Satoru glides back into your warmth as you started to read. The hot length of his cock spreads you apart so invitingly messing with your head.

“Oh don’t feel like you have to stop on my account sweetheart. Keep going. Just testing how deep I need to go before you start going dumb again.” Not very deep based on his observations. He’s barely halfway sheathed and your speech had already become halting and incorrigible. He slips out slightly and you clear your throat trying to not to sob and admit defeat. 

“Our story takes place in a time of old and ooohhh…” The sensual groan leaves you unrestrained as he pushes further in.

“Hmm so about three fourths of the way,” Satoru muses, looking at how much of him was buried inside you. “Keep reading. Trying to fine tune this pussy. I was promised a bedtime story.”

He starts to thrust slowly, letting you feel each inch of him as he withdraws before sliding back in, never bottoming out and leaving you aching with the knowledge that you're only half full. You're not even trying to focus on the words now, just moaning and knowing you'll likely have to let him win if you wanted anything tonight. 

“Satoru please…” You whine as he starts to drag his fingers along your moist slit, finding your bud and circling it expertly. 

“Aw. No bedtime story for me tonight?” he asks mockingly as he draws out a moan from you. You shake your head and he grins triumphantly. “Next time then. We'll train your pussy to not disconnect from your brain.”

Kento can’t stand the thought of not having physical intimacy. Cockwarming was his way of reconnecting, of being able to touch you, feel your soft skin and the warmth of your body, even if he was too tired for sex. 

The bed is so inviting, and your back rests against his chest as his cock pulses with life inside you. Warm sheets are wrapped around your bodies as you sit on his thighs with a book on your lap. Kento's chin rests on your shoulder as you read, his eyes tracking the words as the story flows from your lips, his breath tickling your neck. The atmosphere in the room is almost balmy as his hands massage yours, fingers molding to the spaces in between. Your pussy occasionally clenches around his velvety cock, enjoying the way he filled and stretched the space inside. 

“Are you paying attention?” You tease and pat his cheek to draw his attention back to the story. His large hands had started to wander from yours and were flirting with your ribcage, cradling your breasts in his palms and squeezing enticingly. After a long day, the massage felt more relaxing than arousing and you indulge him for a moment before asking again. “Kento…the story.”

“I am paying attention darling. It looks like our protagonist accidentally discovered something he wasn’t supposed to.” He thumbs your nipples, which had already pebbled from the squeezing, through the sheets and you throw your head back onto his shoulder, biting your lip and letting out a hushed sigh. Your juices had steadily dripped from your core and were pooling at the base of his cock, leaving a ring of wetness on his hard shaft.

“Are you sleepy?” Kento’s lips ghost the shell of your ear and you mumble a tired yes. His chuckle resonates in your ear, deep and rich, and he takes the book away and places it on the nightstand. “It’s all right,” he reassures you as he starts to lay you both down on the bed. “We can find out what happens tomorrow.” He rearranges the sheets while you settle your head down comfortably on the pillow. Sleep overtakes you quickly but you can feel Kento pressing little kisses down your neck.

“Do you mind…?” He whispers, and your half-awake brain manages to slur a yes. You knew what he was asking, and you honestly didn’t mind. His snug cock thrusts ever so sweetly inside you as he tries not to rouse you too much from sleep, breathing steadily into your hair as he tries to orgasm.

The slick heat from being inside you for so long helps in his efforts, lazily stroking your inner walls at an unhurried pace. Your languid body barely stirs as he sets up a deliciously slow pace, quiet squelches issuing from your pussy as he rocks his hips against your ass. He bites his lip as he nears his climax, letting out a muffled groan as his hot cum is released into your warm canal. 

“Darling…focus…” His clever fingers which were playing with your pulsing clit halt, and his cock, snug in your pussy, remains there, barely providing any friction. You whine and look at him pleadingly but he tuts at you, waving the little study booklet in front of your face. “Can you repeat what I was saying?”

Why had you agreed to let him help you study for the bar? Your lawyer boyfriend, so sinfully handsome and smart, was obviously worried about your progress. He accused you of getting too distracted, and the solution was to force you to study with nothing but distractions, hoping to improve your recall abilities. 

What he hadn’t specified was that it would involve sitting on your bed with his cock stuffed in your pussy  while you straddled him, repeating little vocabulary definitions and basic terms of law. Your poor, sloppy, pussy couldn’t stop dribbling, spilling all over him, as you tried to recall the words.

He smirks at your hazy expression, seeing your mind trying to gather itself back into a cohesive state. “Well?” he prompts you again. “Can you explain the concept of intent for this?”

“Ah…” your mind is fuzzy as your walls clench around his cock, still hard inside you. How long had he been doing this? “Mmm…intent…matters because…” Because why? Why did it matter? All that mattered was fucking. Fucking him, riding him, getting filled to the brim with his seed. 

“Tsk. Oh honey. You're never going to pass the bar at this rate.” His hands firmly hook themselves underneath your fleshy thighs. “Now repeat after me.”

He begins to pick up your frame, easing you off his cock before loosening his hands and letting you fall back into his throbbing erection with force, your ass cheeks slapping his thighs as you slide down all the way to his base. 

"It. matters. because. The. Mental. state. Of. a. client. Affects. Our. Ability. To. Prove their. Innocence.”

Each word is punctuated with his hands picking you up and letting you slide, the sound of your ass pounding back into his lap echoing through the room. Each time, the bulbous, mushroom head of his cock kisses your cervix and you swear you're seeing stars each time. You sob each time, your cunt squelching as it takes him all the way in, desperate for an orgasm that wasn't likely to happen. 

“Hiro… Please… Need to cum… study later…”

“You'll never improve if you can't study through the distractions.” His eyes are hooded and dark, barely able to restrain himself from wanting to fuck your brains out until you're spilling all over his thighs. Oh the sight of you, struggling to remember basic words, thoughts too occupied with his cock to remember even the most basic concepts relating to your job. 

“Tell ya what. I'll give you a scenario. If you can explain intent based on that I'll give you an orgasm. How's that?”

You look at him hopefully, still shivering from the intensity of his last movements, and nod. 

“Explain the intent behind a young woman who invites her boyfriend over to help her study for the bar but decides to answer the door in just her underwear.”

Oh the bastard. Feeling your patience snap you admit your motive.

“Clearly she wanted to get fucked nice and good but her boyfriend is a naive moron who really thought she wanted to go over flashcards.” 

“You’ve got the flash part down spectacularly darling.” Hiromi fondles your nipples and you whine, your cunt clenching around him like a vice. 

“Hiro please…”

“I suppose I could count that as an acceptable answer. Nice work.” He spanks your ass in appreciation. “Admission of guilt always helps. Now show me how you plan to alleviate it.”

Your boyfriend was mean. You hadn’t really noticed it until just now. He was more of the type to tease you than anything else. Until you had suggested reading to him while sitting on his cock. 

For some reason, you had assumed he was going to be sweet about it. You hadn’t anticipated how hard he would make this for you. Your lips tremble and you’re a quivering mess as you hold up the book with shaky hands. Tears streak your cheeks as you try again, feeling Suguru’s thumb relentlessly playing with your clit, depriving you of just enough stimulation to keep you focused. 

“T-t-t-the for-forest i-is the…” You wet your lips trying to concentrate. “The fas-test way to the…hi-hi-hidden-”

“Too slow.” You squeal as Geto spanks your already swollen clit, the sting bringing back clarity to your senses. “I thought you were better than this. Are you so fucked out on my cock that you’re taking an hour to read a sentence?” The harsh slap of his hand on your wet folds makes them pulse and you squirm, and you close your legs to avoid the reprimand.

“Tsk. You really are a dumb whore right now.” A cry leaves your lips as he harshly pinches your nipple, twisting it cruelly. “Who told you to close your legs? You seemed pretty confident when spreading them open for me earlier.” Sniffing, you reluctantly part your legs and then let out a noise of discomfort as he slaps the little bud again. 

“Suguru…” you whimper pathetically only to have him roughly rub your clit again.

“Suguru.” He mimics in a high-pitched mocking tone. “What, you thought I would sit here all night while you take your sweet time? You haven’t even finished a page yet. Your cunt is going to be as empty as your brain if you don’t get it together.”

You whine and try again. “The solder…wanted to raid the amry��� to get a sard- OUCH!” Suguru gave you a truly hard whack that sent you reeling, a confusing haze of pain and pleasure running through your body like an electric shock.

“What was that? Are you sure that’s even a word?” Slap. “Solder?” Slap. “Amry?” Slap. “Sard?” Slap. “The words are soldier, armory, and sword you stupid slut.” Each spank to your clit is punctuated with a yelp of pain from you. 

“Suguru! I’m sorry please-!” 

He pulls the book from your grip and tosses it aside. “This is why little whores shouldn’t try to brag about talents they don’t possess. Now why don’t you showcase the only real skill you have and cum on my cock like the desperate little cocksleeve you know you are?”

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@aether-seawolf @makingtimemine @snwvie @facelessfionna

@theimmortalbuns @sweets-kozume @supernaturalbaesduh

@marusatonanhin @pwd54gr54 @brekkersgf

[dissapointu]

Headcanons: Arcane Characters with an Autistic S/O

Jinx

• Jinx loves how unique and vibrant your perspective on the world is. She’s endlessly curious about your special interests and will dive headfirst into learning everything she can about them.

• She doesn’t always pick up on your cues if you’re feeling overstimulated, but she’s quick to notice when you start withdrawing or avoiding eye contact. “Okay, okay, too much chaos—let’s go somewhere quieter.”

• If you’re nonverbal at times or need to communicate differently, Jinx finds it fascinating rather than frustrating. “Oh, a hand signal for that? Sweet! Now I know the secret code.”

• She’s surprisingly gentle when you’re feeling overwhelmed. Her usual high-energy demeanor softens, and she’ll sit quietly beside you, sometimes offering a comforting object or fidget toy she made for you.

• Jinx often invents quirky gadgets to make your life easier, like noise-canceling earmuffs or sensory-friendly lighting. “Tada! Jinxed it just for you.”

Vi

• Vi is fiercely protective of you, especially in situations where others might not understand your needs. “They don’t get it? Too bad for them. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

• She quickly picks up on what helps you feel safe and calm, whether it’s pressure hugs, your favorite textures, or a quiet space. She’s got you covered.

• If someone tries to judge or dismiss you for being different, Vi will immediately put them in their place. “They better watch their mouths. Nobody messes with my girl.”

• She loves listening to you talk about your passions. Even if she doesn’t understand everything, she’ll ask questions and try to keep up. “Wait, so this character can do what? That’s awesome!”

• Vi is great at helping you navigate tricky social situations. She’s your biggest cheerleader but also respects when you need time alone.

Sevika

• Sevika is surprisingly intuitive when it comes to your needs. She might not always say much, but she’ll notice when you’re struggling and adjust her behavior to make you more comfortable.

• If loud environments in the Last Drop overwhelm you, she’ll guide you somewhere quieter without a word, her hand firm but reassuring on your back.

• She has infinite patience for your routines or sensory needs, never making you feel weird or ashamed. “You need to do it that way? Fine. Whatever works for you.”

• Sevika’s lap becomes your safe space during overstimulating moments. She’ll let you curl up against her while she glares at anyone who dares interrupt your peace.

• While she’s not overly sentimental, Sevika has a subtle way of making you feel loved. She’ll gift you sensory-friendly items, like soft blankets or fidget tools, without making a big deal out of it.

Silco

• Silco is incredibly understanding of your differences. He values individuality, so your quirks are something he finds fascinating and endearing.

• He’s meticulous about creating a calm, structured environment for you. “Routine is key, my dear. It will help you thrive in a chaotic world.”

• If you struggle with eye contact, he never forces it, instead focusing on your words and tone to understand you. “Your thoughts are what matter, not where you look.”

• Silco has a way of quietly asserting your boundaries to others without making a scene, ensuring you feel respected and safe.

• He appreciates your honesty and straightforwardness. In a world full of manipulation, your sincerity is a breath of fresh air.

Vander

• Vander is incredibly warm and supportive. He loves listening to you talk about your passions and always encourages you to pursue them.

• He’s quick to notice when something is bothering you and will gently guide you to a quiet corner of the bar to decompress. “Take your time, love. No rush.”

• Vander is amazing at making accommodations for you without drawing attention to them. He’ll keep the bar’s noise levels manageable or arrange quiet mornings just for the two of you.

• He’s a natural at offering grounding touch, like a hand on your back or a bear hug, to help you feel safe and centered.

• If you’re ever overwhelmed by social situations, Vander will step in as your buffer, redirecting attention away from you and making sure you feel supported.

Ekko

• Ekko loves how your unique perspective inspires new ideas for his inventions and plans. “I never thought about it like that before. You’re a genius!”

• He’s super patient and understanding when you need extra time or space. He’ll happily sit with you in silence or create a quiet spot in the Firelights’ hideout.

• Ekko is great at turning your interests into shared activities. Whether it’s exploring something you love or working on a sensory-friendly project together, he’s all in.

• He’s also protective but in a gentle way. If anyone makes you uncomfortable, Ekko will firmly but calmly handle the situation.

• He loves watching you stim or express joy in your unique way. “You’re just… so you. And that’s my favorite thing about you.”

Jayce

• Jayce is fascinated by how your mind works. He’s always asking questions to better understand your needs and how he can support you.

• If you struggle with sensory issues, he’ll invent practical solutions to make your life easier. “Okay, try this—soundproofing tech, lightweight, and it looks cool too.”

• Jayce is incredibly affirming and will constantly remind you how much he admires you. “You’re amazing just the way you are, you know that?”

• He’s great at standing up for you in social situations, using his charm and confidence to deflect attention if you’re feeling overwhelmed.

• Jayce loves seeing you light up when talking about your special interests. He’ll sit and listen for hours, genuinely enthralled by your enthusiasm.

Viktor

• Viktor is deeply empathetic and values your unique way of thinking. He often asks for your input on his projects, appreciating your fresh perspective.

• He’s very mindful of your routines and boundaries, always ensuring you feel comfortable in his presence. “Do let me know if I need to adjust anything, my dear.”

• If you’re ever overstimulated, Viktor offers quiet comfort, sitting beside you and holding your hand without pressuring you to talk.

• He’s endlessly patient and loves learning about your passions. “Your knowledge is extraordinary. I could listen to you talk about this all day.”

• Viktor admires your honesty and straightforwardness. He finds it refreshing and often leans on your clarity to help him navigate complex situations.

Caitlyn

• Caitlyn is incredibly supportive and attentive to your needs. She’ll go out of her way to create an environment where you feel safe and understood.

• She’s quick to pick up on your sensory preferences, always offering solutions like quiet spaces or comfortable textures. “Would this be better for you, love?”

• Caitlyn is your biggest advocate, especially in social settings. If anyone is unkind or dismissive, she’ll firmly but politely set them straight.

• She loves your honesty and values your straightforward nature. It’s one of the reasons she feels so grounded with you.

• Caitlyn is also endlessly patient, offering you comfort and understanding without ever making you feel rushed or judged.

[everybodyhatesmiddleschool]

A few things … and I’ll include emojis this time, since it seems like most of your reading material is probably illustrated:

1) If you consider two paragraphs a “long-ass response,” I’ve got my doubts about this supposed “discreet mathematics and assembly ‘languagr’” (which you clearly spelled that way on purpose, since you don’t make typos or mistakes) major of yours. Also, if you actually just don’t know how to read but don’t want to admit it, that’s not my problem! 🙈

2) Most people who are actually in advanced degree programs know this, but to make it clear that a typo in your writing was done on purpose, you’re supposed to put “(sic)” immediately after said typo. Also, what part of anything else you have written was supposed to make me believe you know how to spell?? 🧐

3) Where were you 10 years ago*** when I was trying to lead English discussion sections for 60 college students?? This would have been the PERFECT way to teach them about irony! 👩‍🏫 You’ve got it all:

Says English is “the one language we all know already” while displaying zero personal understanding of the components of that language, such as punctuation, grammar, etc. 📉

Says “lol I do not care” despite being the one who instigated this interaction. 🧐

Says I have “no critical thinking” skills while being unable process two paragraphs, the latter of which is literally one sentence long. 🤓

Says “anyone else would have realized” that their typo was on purpose while also being the only one who completely missed the meaning of the original post they commented on. 🤡

Tries to talk down to and belittle someone else for their major but immediately gets butthurt when someone returns the favor. 🥴

Claims English is not an important subject while also freely admitting that all other majors must include it in their curriculum, which would seem to indicate that, in reality, it’s the very foundation for not only every major and subject but our ability to function as a society. 🌎📝

***based on your ability to keep up with complicated subjects, I’m gonna guess you were still comfortably ensconced in your mother’s womb 👼

… And that, gentle Tumblr user, is why we don’t try to tussle with English majors through writing: Because what’ll be a fight from your perspective will simply be cleaning for us — namely, wiping the floor with your sorry ass. 🚮

QED (<- Hopefully that’ll help you get your bearings 😘)

x

[daisymbin]

Mingyu x fem!reader

Angst - 18. "i thought you were different." with reader saying that.

Also happy ending pleeeeaaase 🥺👉👈

thank you for requesting! 🥰

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist!

angst prompt #18: "I thought you were different."

you sat on the edge of the couch, arms tightly crossed as you tried to process the whirlwind of emotions racing through you. mingyu stood a few steps away, looking like he was caught in a storm, his expression somewhere between panic and heartbreak.

“it wasn’t what it looked like,” he started, his voice trembling. “please, baby. you have to believe me.”

you let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the tense silence. “believe you? mingyu, i saw you with her. do you even know what that feels like for me?” your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

"baby, i wasn’t—it wasn’t like that,” he stammered, taking a hesitant step forward. “she’s just a friend. she was crying about her boyfriend, and i was just trying to comfort her.”

you shook your head, the image of him leaning close to another girl still fresh in your mind. “you don’t get it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i’ve been here before. i’ve seen this before, mingyu. my ex…” your words faltered as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “my ex used to do the same thing. he’d tell me it was nothing, just a friend. and the whole time, he was—” your breath hitched as the painful memories resurfaced. "I thought you were different," you whispered timidly, mingyu doesn't miss the disappointment and heartbreak in your voice.

mingyu’s face crumpled as he took in your words. “sweetheart…” his voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “you think i’m like him?” his words were soft, but the hurt behind them was unmistakable.

“i don’t know what to think,” you admitted, your hands gripping your arms tighter as if to shield yourself from the pain. “when i saw you with her, it felt like i was right back there again. it felt like—like i wasn’t enough. like i never will be.”

“don’t say that.” mingyu’s voice broke, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of you, his hands reaching for yours but stopping just short, unsure if you’d let him touch you. “baby, you’re everything to me. everything. how could you even think—” his voice cracked, and he dropped his head, his shoulders trembling.

you looked down at him, his vulnerability catching you off guard. he wasn’t angry. he wasn’t defensive. he was hurt—deeply hurt—and it made your chest ache in a way that felt unbearable.

“i know what he did to you,” mingyu continued, his voice barely audible. “i know how much he hurt you. and it kills me that you’d think i could ever… that you’d see me like that.” he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, glassy with unshed tears. “do you really think i could do that to you? to us?”

you hesitated, his words slowly sinking in. the mingyu you knew wasn’t like that. he wasn’t manipulative, or mean, or sneaky, or cruel. he was open, loving, and kind, and he wore his heart on his sleeve. you’d let your fears and insecurities cloud the truth, and now you could see how much it had hurt him. because mingyu would never intentionally hurt you.

“mingyu, i—” your voice faltered as you tried to find the words. “i don’t think you’re like him. i just… i got scared. i saw you with her, and it felt so familiar, and i panicked.” tears of vulnerability now stream down your face.

his hands finally found yours, and when you didn’t pull away, he clung to them like a lifeline. “i understand,” he said softly. “i just… i don’t ever want you to doubt how much you mean to me. you’re not just someone to me, my love. you’re it. you’re everything.”

the sincerity in his voice, the raw emotion in his eyes, made the remaining walls around your heart crumble. slowly, you nodded, your grip on his hands tightening. “i’m sorry,” you whispered. “i shouldn’t have assumed the worst. i should’ve talked to you.”

“no, don't apologise," he said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “i should have been more aware, i should have been my careful especially knowing what you’ve been through, and i hate that i made you feel like this. but i promise, i’d never hurt you like that. i just couldn’t.” his hand reach out shakily to wipe your tears away.

"I trust you,"

and that was all mingyu needed, the relief that washed over mingyu’s face was immediate and overwhelming. he let out a breath he didnt know he had been holding, and his hands moved to cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. “thank you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “thank you for trusting me.”

“can we… can we just go to bed now?” he asked, his voice soft and almost shy. “i really want need to hold you.”

your chest tightened at his words, and you nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “yeah,” you whispered.

he stood up, pulling you gently to your feet and wrapping his arms around you in a way that made you feel safe, cherished. as he led you to the bedroom, you felt the weight of the misunderstanding lift, replaced by the steady warmth of his love.

when you finally settled into bed, mingyu pulled you close, his arms tight around your waist and his face buried in your hair. “i love you,” he murmured, his voice laced with exhaustion but full of certainty. “so much.”

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing soft patterns on his arm.

[nickssidewitch]

✨❤️ How the Sturniolo Triplets Flirt With a Crush 😻✨ (a Tarot Reading)

Chris 🧡

Very invested, will make sure to keep up with his crush almost every single day 😭

But he also overthinks A LOT during this stage, so he’ll ease back if he thinks he’s doing too much.

He’ll post little things on his socials so the person he’s flirting with can see them. It’ll be little subliminal messages and things of that nature.

But he’ll also overthink that as well, and will probably even make little clarifications to try not to make it seem like it’s directed at someone (even though it most definitely was).

My Gosh, this man worries so much when he flirts because he hopes the girl can pick up on it and if he’s not being super cringy or he’s not making her turned off.

If he can see that the girl is enjoying his flirting, he won’t worry as much, but she has to be super direct about it, otherwise he will literally die of overthinking 😭😭

He flirts the most via social media posts, but he also texts and does FaceTime calls a lot with the person he’s into. He’ll wanna text/call them late at night just so they can both catch up on each other’s days and just vent.

He will literally stay up for hours, laying on his stomach, feet dangling in the air like a giddy schoolgirl, staring down at his phone just to see if his girl will ever call him or text him. I’m exaggerating… but also I’m not.

He’s a great listener, so he doesn’t mind a rant or a trauma dump or two 😭

He will buy his girl things that remind him of her. Little trinkets like charms and stuffed animals. He’ll buy clothes and jewelry if he sees something he knows the girl will like.

He will pay for everything.

He definitely puts on a certain voice that he doesn’t even realize. (I can hear it in my head and it’s sexy as fuck. A bit raspy and low, a bit of a whisper). He even has a look on his face and will stare at you with that look 😭 He has no clue he does it though.

Lots of music. Lotsss.

If he feels that the flirting is not working though, he will be devastated.

Nick 💜

He actually prefers being flirted with. He likes being the center of someone’s affection. *debby ryan meme*

He will do obvious things to flirt with someone. And if the guy don’t pick up on it, that’s on him ✌🏾

He’s a gift giver and acts of service kind of guy when flirting. If the man doesn’t appreciate what he’s doing by actually acknowledging it, then he’ll be devastated and won’t give you the time of day anymore.

I think he knows what he wants, who he wants, when he wants it, and sometimes why. 😭

That can be a bit intimidating for some guys because they have this expectation of him being someone who will change themselves just to get their attention. But in reality, Nick is very confident in who he is and would never change himself for a man’s attention (unless it’s literally just him working out or drinking more water, etc.)

He’s asking his brothers about what guys do in certain situations (because usually it’s a bi or more masc guy he’s into). He’ll literally go to Chris or Matt with his phone, show a text and be like “oh my gosh what does this mean??”

He’ll definitely be touchy-feely with you, and that’s a big deal because he hates touching people and people touching him. So if he’s got his arm around you, then you’re the one for him!

Matt 💙

Super invested like his brothers.

People keep saying he’ll be dry which is very untrue. That man will always find a way to keep the person he’s flirting with entertained.

He wants them to laugh and actually find him funny, otherwise it won’t work and he knows it.

Humor is a way for him to figure out whether you’re actually listening to him and understand him and the way he thinks. So if you can’t pick up on his humor or don’t laugh at certain jokes he makes, you’re out.

He likes flowers and chocolates, but doesn’t mind jewelry and expensive things to bring his girl as well. And if she’s like “Oh, Matt, you shouldn’t have”, he’ll be like “Um, yes, I definitely should have, and I did!”

He’ll send risky texts or say risky things just to see the girl’s reaction to them. Nothing too crazy or frisky. Just something that can spark a reaction that can be a telltale sign of whether she’s into it or not.

These are the basics of it! Lmk if you guys liked this post!! 🥰

[chithereader]

stir crazy / aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

word count: 2k

genre: fluff/angst if you squint

cw: omniscient pov, hotch being vulnerable

“My agent has been asking me for the manuscript but it’s just not ready yet. And I’ve still got my day job that keeps me busy enough,” It’s a quiet day at the BAU. No urgent cases or serial killers, just a few feet worth of case files. Leaning against Reid’s desk, Rossi, Emily and boy genius himself have been talking about the next big David Rossi book.

“Oh c’mon, I see you typing away in your office and writing in that little notebook of yours– which I know is for your drafts by the way,” Emily teases. Rossi shrugs it off with a soft smirk and looks to the boy genius who has been uncharacteristically quiet for the past few minutes. 

“Nothing to say, kid?” lowering his head to catch the young man’s preoccupied eye but Reid’s sight is incredibly glued far away. 

It took Reid a good 6 seconds to realize he’s kid before he shakes himself out of the trance and answers, “Well, considering the hours he’s spent typing on his personal laptop as opposed to the office computer and adding the minutes he allots on the jet to jot down on his writing notebook– assuming he’s writing in a similar format to his previous books–  I’d say….you’re actually well into the third chapter of your manuscript.” 

Still with his eyes trained on whatever caught his attention in the first place, Reid unsurprisingly impresses Rossi again because he is indeed a little over halfway into the third chapter.

But Rossi and Emily instantly become interested with what or who Reid has been staring at for the past minute, noticing that even when going off on his boy-genius tangent, his stare had been focused somewhere else. 

Reid jumps in his seat a little as the two level their heads on either side of his to see where his gaze has been glued. He had been so focused on figuring out the worrying sight and what caused it that he hadn’t noticed how much of him wasn’t aware of his surroundings. 

To their surprise, they’re met with a seemingly everyday sight: Hotch, in the pantry, stirring his coffee. And by everyday, they mean that to any passerby they’d think this is incredibly normal. Nothing at all out of place or out of character. 

But to the trained eye- to profilers who also spend almost everyday with the man, they slowly see what Reid must have seen. 

Hotch is stirring his coffee. But he doesn’t even put sugar or creamer in his always black coffee. 

He’s doing it absentmindedly. Literally looking lost in his head. Hotch is a busy guy, a busy boss guy, with millions of things to think about, but Hotch is never absent. His movements are always purposeful, precise, and calculated. Never lacking and never excess. 

Hotch has his head tilted down and to the side. Like a perpetually confused puppy. One of the things that make Hotch Hotch is his posture. His rigid, firm posture. Back always so straight, hands always clenched, jaw always tight– Hotch is never just there, his presence alone is commanding. 

And worst of all, Hotch’s hair is neat. Too neat. Okay, Hotch’s habit of being neat -with his pressed suits and shined shoes no matter where he is- naturally extends to how he styles his hair. Over the years, he’s learned to gel it out of his face for both convenience and aesthetic. But this neat- this neat looks a little too flat and ruffled at the same time. Like he’s run his hand through it a hundred times in a matter of minutes. 

So Rossi and Emily finally understand. The two share a look of understanding, while Reid looks up at them with curiosity and a little worry. 

“Do you guys think he’s.. okay?” Reid asks quietly with a little grimace. He looks between the two, trying to figure out what they’re thinking, “I mean it has been exactly 12 minutes that he’s been stirring nothing into his coffee.” 

“12?!” If Emily had any sort of drink in her mouth, she surely would have spat it out all over Reid–for which he is silently thankful she doesn’t because as much as he adores Emily, he’s just not mentally prepared for… well that. 

Finally, there’s movement in the pantry. Unaware of his colleagues now watching his every move, Hotch wakes up from the trance he was trapped in and quickly retreats back into his office with his now-cold cup of coffee. 

Knowing that Rossi’s the only one to easily get through to Hotch, Emily and Reid turn to look at him, wordlessly nudging him to check on the poor man who spent 12 minutes stirring his painfully plain black coffee. 

Raising both his hands as he stands from where he was leaning, Rossi surrenders “Alright alright! But I am not telling you rascals what he tells me in confidence.” pointing at the doe-eyed pair. 

Rossi lets the possibilities run through his head as he walks up the stairs to Aaron’s office. Maybe Jack’s having trouble with that one kid again– what’s his name? Or maybe Jack’s having trouble with Mothers’ Day coming up. That’s never been easy. But the stirring and staring into space and the hair? What could possibly– Knock knock. 

Rossi doesn’t even wait to hear Aaron’s voice. He pushes the door open to be greeted with the sight of Aaron finally looking a little more him: writing on his desk knee-deep in case files. 

Aaron looks up for a second and continues writing reports, “What can I help you with, Dave?” Putting extra pressure on penning that last period before closing the case file and grabbing another to open. 

Dave stays quiet for a bit and takes in the sight. Looks fine to me. But his silence halts Aaron’s writing and he looks up to Dave who’s just studying him by the door. 

“You know you can sit right?” Aaron stoically jokes. 

And a joke?! Dave finally cracks and sits down to say, “Boy genius just watched you stir your coffee for 12 minutes which we all know is black. Your hair’s messy and too fixed at the same time, you were standing in the pantry just minutes ago glaring into nothing. And you were slouching with your head tilted to the side.” 

“Honestly whatever it is, it’s none of my business but you just scared two members of your team and I think this may be the seed of doubt in your leadership skills because you’re finally not a robot.” It was obvious that Dave was trying to play it cool, masking concern with humor and sarcasm. 

But Aaron is a painfully private guy. He’d think it over for days before he decides to open up or seek advice from a close friend. Only he has thought about it for days and not saying anything’s been driving him insane he genuinely feels like he could implode at any second. 

Aaron takes one big breath and through clenched teeth he grumbles out, “It’s a she.” Finally staring Dave straight in the eyes, he clarifies, “the it in whatever it is is a she.” 

Realization and more worry hits Dave at the same time which Aaron clearly sees on his face. But Rossi quickly recovers and gives Aaron a soft, comforting smile, “Well what’s so bad about your she that’s got you so shaken up?” 

In Dave’s head, he’s already preparing responses for the worst: 

She doesn’t approve of my job. Well she can suck it. This is who you are. 

Jack doesn’t like her. Aaron, the one thing I like about kids is that they give it to you straight. I think you should take that as a sign

She’s not comfortable with the age gap. She’s way older. She’s way younger. I’m scarred in more ways than one. I’m not sure I still know how to– 

Aaron could see the increasing concern in Dave’s face, “I just–” he started. 

Dave’s thoughts were cut short by Aaron’s voice, thankfully because his mind was starting to reach the point of no return. Anticipating Aaron’s explanation, he leaned forward in his seat trying to read Aaron’s expression. 

“A few months ago, I’d stay here. After a case, when I know my son’s fast asleep and Jessica’s with him- I’d stay here.” Dave kept quiet, intently listening and trying to piece together where this could possibly go. 

“I would choose to stay here and finish reports, make a dent in the never-ending pile of case files because when I’m focused on helping others, I don’t have time to think of how alone I am.”

Before Dave could try and quell this ‘alone’ sentiment, Aaron quickly follows it up “I love my son. And he’s always been more than enough. And I have the team but… you guys have people to come home to. Arms to fall into at the end of a grueling day.” 

“For the longest time, since Haley.. I haven’t allowed myself to feel. To want. And if I’ve just been honest then it’d be known, I want to be loved. All that I carry, I drop all of it at the door and then there’s just this exhaustion that hits me. And all I want is for someone to hold me.” 

Dave takes all of this in, feeling an immense amount of love and sadness for his friend who deserves nothing but happiness but hasn’t for the longest time allowed himself the one thing that can give him that. 

“I know you think that getting into a relationship makes you a bad father, splitting the only time you have left with someone else instead of your son. But the truth is Aaron, Jack’s growing up. He has his sleepovers, camps, and football now. Soon he’ll leave for parties and college, and as much as he adores you he’ll have his own family.”

“I know. And then I’ll be alone.” Aaron’s voice starts to sound rough. Like this fact’s caught in his throat and he can’t speak. Dave studies Aaron and considers all the things he knows are holding Aaron back.

“So give it a shot.” Dave insists. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Just set a date, and show up.” 

Aaron looks at Dave pointedly, “You make it sound easy–” “You make it sound hard.” 

Aaron appears to recover. He smoothes a hand over his tie and straightens his back yet again. In an instant, he’s back to looking stoic and stern with brows furrowed and eyes glaring.

He’s not used to being vulnerable, even in the privacy of his own office. Feeling like an open book for others to read makes goosebumps trail up his spine- in a bad way. Dave quickly reads this and decides to lighten the mood. 

“So…. when will we meet her?” Dave asks smugly. 

“Funny.”

“I understand.. your concerns. But I don’t think you’d be so worried about it if you weren’t already serious about her. So, what’s really going on with her?” 

Aaron thought he could get away without revealing much about her. He’s uncomfortable enough talking about himself, and all the more protective he is when it comes to you. Especially as someone who wants to keep your little world away from the harshness of everything else–

He sighs. He knows Dave is relentless and as payback for his concern, he decides he has to give Dave something. 

“I don’t know. Really. I don’t– I told you one day I’m tiring myself out so I don’t have to come home and process my empty bed as empty..”

“Now I’m tiptoeing in my own kitchen so as to not disturb this crazy singing person washing my dishes while my kid wipes the plates. And I watch them for god knows how long, instead of going up to my office to attend to case files whose deadlines are a bit too close for my liking.” 

“I don’t know,” Aaron shrugs. A soft, weak smile grows on his lips at the memory of you.

Dave stands from the seat, a knowing smirk on his face, “Hmm.” Teasing Aaron as he walks to the door and grabs the handle. 

“I think you’ll be just fine, Aaron. Just fine.” 

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 17

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU 🥰🥰

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Sad steve, a little angst, fluff 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

A/N: ugh finally is all i gotta say

Masterpost

Steve stepped into the apartment quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. The living room was dimly lit, a single lamp casting a soft glow. Sam was sprawled out on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in his lap, the TV playing a muted rerun of an old sitcom. He looked up as Steve entered, his brows knitting together in concern.

“Did you find her?” Sam asked, sitting up and setting the popcorn aside.

Steve nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. She was sitting on a park bench not too far from here.”

Sam leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “And? She okay?”

Steve hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck before walking over to the couch. He sank down beside Sam, exhaling deeply. “She knows,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with resignation.

Sam froze, his jaw tightening. “Knows what?”

Steve looked down at his hands, clasping them tightly as if trying to hold himself together. “That I’m in love with her.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Sam sat back, his expression unreadable as he processed the weight of Steve’s words. Finally, he cleared his throat. “And what did she say?”

Steve let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “She said she doesn’t love me back. I asked her if she thinks she ever could, and…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “She said at one point, maybe. She believes she could have. But now, with everything going on with Bucky…”

Sam nodded slowly, his eyes softening with sympathy. “Man, I’m sorry.”

Steve leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes as the ache in his chest deepened. “It’s eating me alive, Sam. Knowing that if I’d just made a move sooner, she could’ve been with me. Maybe she wouldn’t be so hung up on Bucky. Maybe we could’ve been happy.”

Sam let out a slow breath, choosing his words carefully. “Steve… you can’t do that to yourself, man. You can’t sit here and play the what-if game. Trust me, it doesn’t help. And honestly? If I’m being real with you, this was always going to happen.”

Steve frowned, his eyes opening to meet Sam’s. “What do you mean?”

Sam gave him a sad smile, his tone gentle but firm. “The universe was always gonna have it be her and Bucky. You’ve gotta know that. They’ve got that messy, complicated, meant-to-be kind of thing. And yeah, it sucks for you—it sucks for anyone standing on the outside looking in—but some things just… are.”

Steve looked away, his jaw tightening. “It doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Sam nodded, understanding the weight in Steve’s voice. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared at the muted TV. “No, it doesn’t. And it’s not gonna for a while. But you’ve gotta find a way to live with it, man. Letting it eat at you? That’s not gonna do you any good.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a heavy sigh. “I thought… I thought maybe if I just held on, if I waited long enough, she’d see me. But she never has, not like I see her.”

Sam leaned forward again, his tone firm but not unkind. “Steve, you can’t do that to yourself. I know it hurts, but you’re stuck in a shitty situation. The universe has always been rigged for her and Bucky. That’s not on you.”

Steve’s lips twitched in a faint, bitter smile. “You think so?”

Sam nodded. “Oh, I know so. Hell, I figured it out back in college.”

Steve glanced at him, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Sam gave him a pointed look. “Remember when I asked her out that one time?”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly, the memory rushing back. “Of course, I remember. You came back, said it wasn’t gonna work, and then you two were best friends from then on.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, that’s because thirty minutes into the date, I realized she wasn’t just talking about Bucky—she was glowing every time his name came up. I sat there thinking, ‘How the hell did I not see this before?’” He paused, his voice softening. “Doesn’t matter what she says or doesn’t say about him. She’s always been his, Steve. And I think he’s always been hers too. They’re just too damn stupid to admit it.”

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. “You’re probably right.”

Sam smirked, shaking his head. “Oh, I know I am. You should’ve seen Bucky that night I took her out. He didn’t say anything, but the guy didn’t sit still for hours. He kept pacing around our dorm like he was waiting for her to come back. And once I started hanging out with you and Bucky more, it was even clearer. Bucky looked at her like she hung the stars, and she was over there looking at him like he was her entire world. You couldn’t miss it.”

Steve leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face. “So why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t she?”

Sam shrugged. “That’s just who they are. Stubborn as hell, both of them. And I think part of it is fear, you know? They’re both so scared of losing what they have that they’ve been too chicken to reach for more. But, Steve, that’s not on you. It’s not your fault they’ve been stuck in this endless loop.”

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line, his blue eyes clouded with doubt. “Doesn’t make it easier to watch.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sam agreed. “But here’s the thing—you’re not second best, Steve. You’re not just a fallback option, and you shouldn’t let yourself feel like one. If it wasn’t meant to be with her, that’s on the universe, not you.”

Steve let out a small, bitter laugh. “That’s easy for you to say.”

Sam gave him a pointed look. “Not as easy as you think. But I’ll tell you this—there’s a world of people out there who would give anything to have someone like you in their corner. Someone who sees them the way you see her. And maybe one day, you’ll find someone who looks at you the way she looks at Bucky. She may be closer than you think….You deserve that, Steve. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Steve’s chest tightened at Sam’s words, but he nodded slowly, the truth of them settling in. “Thanks, man.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a warm, reassuring smile. “Anytime. And hey, remember—there’s plenty of fish in the sea. You just gotta let yourself cast the line.”

Steve let out a weak laugh, but there was a hint of hope in it. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Sam said firmly. “Now, ill grab us a beer and lets figure out what the hell we’re doing tomorrow because I’m pretty sure the group’s about to implode.”

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Sounds about right.”

The two friends settled back into the couch, the weight of the conversation still lingering but lighter now. And as Steve stared at the muted TV, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Sam was right.

College First year

It was a crisp fall evening, the kind where the air had just enough of a chill to make you wish you’d brought a scarf. The campus was alive with chatter and laughter, students hurrying to and from the dining halls or bundling up for late-night study sessions. You’d agreed to go on a date with Sam, mostly because Wanda and Natasha had been relentless about it.

���Come on,” Natasha had said, practically throwing your coat at you. “He’s great. He’s charming. And let’s be honest, he’s got arms that could carry you out of a burning building.”

You’d rolled your eyes but agreed. Sam had always been easy to talk to, Steve said he was the better roommate out of him and Bucky, so that was a good sign and you figured if nothing else, it would be a fun night.

When he showed up to pick you up, he greeted you with his signature warm smile, a casual button-up, and a bouquet of flowers that was just the right mix of thoughtful and not overly formal. “Ready to go?” he asked, offering his arm.

The two of you ended up at a cozy Italian restaurant just off campus. It was charming, with string lights and the soft hum of an acoustic guitar playing in the background. The warm glow of the string lights outside the building made it feel like a scene straight out of a rom-com. Sam opened the door for you with a playful bow.

“After you, milady,” he said, flashing that signature grin that had most girls on campus swooning.

You rolled your eyes but smiled back. “Don’t push your luck, Wilson.”

Sam was, as expected, funny and kind, and the conversation flowed effortlessly. You laughed about your classes, swapped embarrassing stories about your friends, and commiserated over the sheer insanity of trying to balance everything college threw at you. He was cracking jokes and telling stories that had you laughing so hard you nearly spilled your water more than once.

“So, let me get this straight,” you said, trying to keep a straight face as Sam recounted an embarrassing story from his freshman year. “You really thought sneaking a chicken into your dorm room was a good idea?”

Sam held up his hands defensively. “In my defense, it was my chicken. His name was Nugget, and he was a gift from my uncle. You don’t just abandon family.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I don’t think a chicken counts as family, Sam.”

“Clearly, you’ve never owned a chicken,” he quipped, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin.

As the food arrived, the conversation shifted to classes, mutual friends, and campus gossip. Everything felt easy—until Sam tilted his head, his playful smile fading slightly.

But somewhere between the second course and dessert, Sam tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “You know, I’ve noticed something about you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh no. What? Is it the way I hold my fork? Natasha said it’s weird.”

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just… you talk about Bucky a lot.”

Your fork froze mid-twirl, and you blinked at him. “I do not,” you said quickly, your voice a little too defensive. “Do I?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant as your heart skipped a beat.

Sam nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. I mean, I get it—you’ve been friends forever. But it’s not just that. It’s the way you talk about him. And the way your eyes kinda… linger when you bring him up.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you quickly looked down at your plate, twirling spaghetti around your fork. “It’s not… I mean, Bucky and I, we’re just friends. Best friends, that’s all we’ve ever been.”

Sam gave you a look, one that was both knowing and a little amused. “I'm sensing that maybe someone, not naming names, is feeling a little more than just friends?” He paused, his smile fading into something more serious “Does he know?”

Your stomach twisted, and you set your fork down, your appetite suddenly gone. “No,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “And please don’t tell him. I don’t even know what I want, and the last thing I need is for him to know that I’m…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “In love with him?”

Your head shot up, and you glared at him, though there wasn’t much heat behind it. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Sam said gently, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know how I didn’t put two and two together before, but it’s written all over you.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your temples. “Well, great. Now you know my secret. Are you gonna tell him?"

Sam laughed, reaching across the table to gently tap your hand. “Hey, I won’t. But… you should probably figure out what you want. For your sake, not his. I don’t think I’m the guy you’re supposed to be out with tonight.”

You felt a pang of guilt, but Sam’s easy grin quickly soothed it. “Sam, I’m sorry—” You sighed, your fingers gripping your fork tightly. “It’s not that simple, Sam. Bucky and I… we’re complicated. And I’m not even sure he thinks of me like that.”

Sam let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Man, you’re both blind as hell. But hey, that’s not my business.” He reached across the table giving your hand a squeeze “Don’t be, I’m glad we did this. I mean, it’s not every day you go on a date and realize the person you’re with is completely hung up on their best friend. But hey,” he added, his smile widening, “I can already tell we’re gonna be the best of friends.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing from your shoulders. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” Sam said with confidence. “You’re stuck with me now.”

He leaned forward, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Now, if you’re done breaking my heart with all this Bucky talk, I have an important question for you.”

You frowned, tilting your head. “What question?”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” he asked, completely serious.

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “What?”

“Ghosts,” Sam repeated, his grin widening. “It’s a make-or-break question for me. We can’t be friends if you’re one of those ‘ghosts aren’t real’ people.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier easing slightly. “I don’t know, Sam. I’ve never seen one.”

“Classic ghost-denier response,” he said with mock disappointment. “But it’s okay. I’ll convert you.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “What are you, the Ghost Whisperer?”

“Exactly,” he said, winking. “And by the end of the semester, you’ll be a believer too.”

The rest of the evening was spent walking around campus, talking about everything and nothing. Sam made you laugh so hard your sides hurt, and by the end of the night, you felt lighter—like you’d gained not just a friend, but someone who truly understood you.

As he walked you back to your dorm, he gave you a warm hug, whispering, “Don’t wait too long to figure out what you want, alright?”

You nodded, feeling both grateful and a little overwhelmed. “Thanks, Sam. For everything.”

“Anytime, Ghost Denier,” he teased, pulling back and giving you a mock salute. “Now go figure out your complicated Bucky situation before I have to knock some sense into both of you.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you opened your door. “Goodnight, Sam.”

“Goodnight, Y/N” he said , turning and walking down the hall. “And remember—ghosts are real!”

As you closed the door, his words echoed in your mind. Figure out your Bucky situation. If only it were that simple.

The city was quieter now, the usual hum of nightlife softened as you made your way back to your apartment. It was late, the chill in the air biting at your skin as you wrapped your coat tighter around you. Natasha’s words echoed in your head, their weight pressing heavily on your chest. Stop wasting time.

When you reached your building, your hands were shaking—not from the cold but from the uncertainty of what waited for you inside. You hesitated for a moment, staring at the door, before finally gripping the handle and pushing it open.

The apartment was dark, save for the faint glow of the lamp in the living room. Bucky was still there, sitting on the couch in the same spot you’d left him hours ago. His posture was slouched, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. But now, his eyes were red and puffy, the streaks on his cheeks betraying the tears he’d shed.

His head snapped up when he heard the door close. For a moment, neither of you said anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, your gaze fixed on the floor as you tried to steady your breathing.

You swallowed hard and turned back toward the door, pressing your back against it as you shut your eyes tightly for a moment. You inhaled deeply, gathering the courage you needed, and when you finally opened your eyes again, you faced him.

“Do you mean it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of everything unsaid.

Bucky blinked, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He stood slowly, his hands hanging at his sides, and took a tentative step closer. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, raw with emotion.

Bucky’s voice cracked as he answered, “It’s the only thing I’ve ever meant.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them wrapping around you like a second skin. You stared at him, your breath hitching as every wall, every defense you’d built, threatened to crumble under the sincerity in his voice.

He stepped closer, his movements slow, like he was afraid any sudden motion would shatter the fragile moment between you. “I love you,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “I’ve loved you since the day you tied your shoe in kindergarten and told me you’d be my best friend forever.” A hollow, broken laugh escaped him. “I think I loved you even before I understood what love was.”

Your lip quivered as tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over. “Bucky…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I mean it, doll,” he said, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach out but didn’t dare. “Every girl, every date, every time I tried to move on—I couldn’t. Because none of it felt right. None of them were you.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the sheer honesty in his gaze cutting through every doubt, every fear.

Your voice broke as you finally said, “You can’t just say this now, Bucky. Not after everything.” You wiped at the tears streaming down your face, frustration mixing with the flood of emotions. “Do you know how hard it’s been? To watch you with other girls, to convince myself that what I felt didn’t matter because you didn’t feel the same?”

He winced like your words physically hurt him. “I know,” he said softly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve been such a coward. I’ve spent years too scared to say it, too scared to ruin what we had, and instead, I ruined it anyway.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over as you looked away, your voice rising. “You didn’t just ruin it. You hurt me, Buck! You let me believe I was just your backup, your best friend who didn’t measure up to everyone else.”

His voice cracked as he took another step forward. “You were never my backup. You’ve always been my first choice—always. I’m just an idiot who didn’t know how to show it.”

You let out a sharp laugh, the kind born from heartbreak and exhaustion. “And Steve?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Did you ever think about what telling me about him would do? How I’m supposed to face him now, knowing what I know?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I know I shouldn’t have said it. I know it wasn’t my place, but I was desperate. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you again—to Dean, to Steve, to anyone.”

“Steve doesn’t deserve this,” you said, your voice softening, your heart aching for the friend who had loved you quietly and selflessly for years. “He’s been nothing but good to me.”

“I know,” Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s why I hate myself for saying anything. But I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I couldn’t watch you slip away again.”

You pressed your hand to your chest, feeling the frantic beat of your heart as his words washed over you. “You don’t understand what this does, Bucky. To us. To all of us. What if this destroys everything, friendships...”

He closed the distance between you, his hands reaching out but stopping short, hovering near yours. His voice was low, desperate. “Maybe it will. Maybe we’ll burn everything to the ground. But I can’t lie to you anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t feel this—don’t feel you—like a part of me I can’t live without.”

The dam finally broke. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I love you too,” you cried, the words spilling out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. “I’ve loved you for so long it hurts. But I don’t know how to trust this, Bucky. How do I know you won’t hurt me again?”

“You love me” He breathed out like it was his last breath, he blinked away the tears of relief his hands finally found yours, his touch warm and grounding. “You don’t,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But I swear to you, I will spend the rest of my life proving I won’t.”

The tears were falling freely now, both yours and his, as the weight of everything settled between you. His hands tightened around yours, and he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. “I’m all in, sweetheart,” he whispered. “No more games. No more running. Just us.”

The room felt like it was spinning, your heart pounding so hard it hurt, but when your eyes locked with his, everything else disappeared. In those piercing blue depths, you saw it. The truth. The love. The promise. The years of unspoken feelings and tangled emotions were laid bare between you, and for the first time in so long, you let yourself believe it—believe him.

Your body moved before your mind could catch up, surging forward, your lips crashing into his with a force that nearly knocked the breath out of you. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a release, a culmination of years of pain, longing, and unsaid words. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, clutching him like a lifeline, while his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in so tightly it felt like he was trying to meld you into him.

The kiss was messy, frantic, and raw. His lips were warm, firm yet trembling with emotion as they moved against yours. His hands roamed, one tangling in your hair while the other settled on your waist, holding you steady against him. You could feel the desperation in the way he kissed you, the silent plea for you to believe him, to stay, to never leave again.

You broke the kiss for a second, gasping for air, but Bucky didn’t let you go. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both stood there, trembling. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t even realized were still falling.

“Doll…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You and me… we can make this work. We have to.”

The intensity in his voice, the sheer vulnerability in his gaze, made your chest tighten painfully. You nodded, your tears blurring your vision, but a soft laugh escaped you—shaky, but real. “You and me, Buck. Always.”

A flicker of a smile broke across his face, small but genuine, as if he could barely believe this moment was real. His arms tightened around you, pulling you so close that you could feel the steady thrum of his heart against your chest.

“I’m never letting you go,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. His lips brushed yours again, this time slower, softer. It was as if he was trying to memorize the feel of you, the taste of you, as if he couldn’t quite trust that you were truly his.

Your hands slid up to cup his jaw, your fingers grazing the faint stubble on his cheeks. You deepened the kiss, letting it linger this time, savoring every second. His lips were gentle yet unyielding, like he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into the way he kissed you. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise.

When you finally pulled away again, your breathing uneven, he rested his forehead against yours once more. His voice was soft but resolute, every word laced with a quiet, unshakable certainty. “We’ll be okay. We’ll always be okay. It’s us.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, and for the first time in years, you felt truly whole. “It’s us,” you repeated, your voice a whispered vow.

[cmdrfupa]

Scary Dog Privilege

Ijichi x Reader

a/n: IJICHI BABES, WE ARE HERE.

Your relationship with Ijichi made sense.

If awards for couples that made the most sense existed, you and Ijichi would win them all.

He was the greyhound to your cane corso. The Sphynx to your Siamese cat. Ijichi was your devoted lover and you were his world.

You just wanted him to see his own value in every situation. Remind him that he has a say so even if everyone else disregards it. And maybe your anniversary trip could help him.

The suitcase lay half-packed on the bed, its contents a colorful jumble of folded clothes and travel essentials on top of the surprise bikini dress you’d packed for the beach.

You hummed cheerfully to yourself, holding up a sun hat and tilting your head. “What do you think, baby? Too much for the beach, or just enough to keep the mysterious wife thing up?”

Across the room, Ijichi stood awkwardly by the doorway, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. His gaze darted to you, then away, his lips parting as if to speak before closing again.

“It’s perfect,” he mumbled, though the way his fingers fidgeted with his glasses said his mind was elsewhere.

You narrowed your eyes at him, setting the hat down. “Kiyotaka,” you said in a tone that made him stand a little straighter. “You’ve been pacing like a nervous puppy for the last ten minutes. What happened today? Did someone die, or worse, did they cancel our anniversary reservation?”

He flinched. “No, no! Nothing like that!”

“Then what?”

Ijichi hesitated, his cheeks flushing. “I... um... I’ve been assigned as the lead administrator for a mission next week.”

The cheerful hum of excitement that had been buzzing in your chest came to a screeching halt. Slowly, you slipped your slippers back on and walked over to him. “Next week? As in, the week of our trip?”

He nodded, his hands wringing. “I-I didn’t say no. They said they needed someone dependable, and I—”

“Didn’t push back,” you finished for him, your tone flat. You let out a long sigh, and wrapped your arms around his next. “Honey. Do I need to come to these meetings and say ‘no’ for you?”

His shoulders slumped, and he gave you a sheepish look. “I know I worked through my day off last time but I didn’t want to let anyone down…”

You crossed your arms, giving him the look only an understanding wife could give. “Kiyotaka, I get it. You’re kind and genuinely such a pleasant guy —two of the many reasons I love you. But you’re also allowed to have a life outside of work. It’s okay to tell people no. Even me.”

“I know,” he muttered, but the doubt in his voice was as clear as day.

“Hmm,” you said, rolling up your sleeves and taking a few paces back. “Let’s roleplay.”

“Huh?”

“I’m Principal Yaga, and you’re telling me you can’t take the mission. Go.”

His eyes widened. “What? I—”

“Go!” you barked, dropping into a gruff impression of Yaga. You stroked an imaginary goatee and squinted at him. “Goddamn man! Speak up! I don’t have all day! I’ve got sunglasses to buy and cute cursed dolls to make!”

Ijichi blinked at you, flustered. “Um… excuse me, sir, but I…”

You interrupted, shaking your head dramatically while speaking in a hushed tone. “No excuses, Ijichi. You’re too valuable!”

That finally got a laugh out of him, and you couldn’t help but smile. “See? Not so scary when it’s just me,” you teased. “Now try again. Confidently, this time.”

He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.

“Principal Yaga, I appreciate the trust you’ve placed in me, but I’ve already committed to important personal plans next week. I’ll need to decline this mission but maybe ask Akari and she how she feels about taking it on.”

You broke into a grin, clapping your hands. “There it is! That’s my guy! See? You can do it!”

Ijichi looked surprised by his own success, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “You really think they’ll respect that?”

“Absolutely,” you said, stepping closer kissing his cheek then lips as he pulled you into a hug. “But if they don’t, just let me know. I’ll show up and demonstrate my cursed technique. Bet that’ll make them think twice.”

He chuckled, relaxing in your arms. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft with gratitude.

“Anytime,” you replied, squeezing him gently. “Now, let’s finish packing. You’ve got a mission to refuse and an anniversary trip to enjoy.”

👓

The sun was dipping low over the courtyard, warm orange hues painted themselves across the campus.

You were heading back from a training session with Nanami when you spotted Ijichi standing stiffly near the fountain. Across from him, Gojo Satoru leaned lazily against the edge, arms crossed and trademark grin plastered across his face.

“C’mon, Ijichi,” Gojo drawled. “You’re the only guy I can trust with this. It’s just a couple of reports, nothing too crazy. Besides, you know I’d do it myself if I weren’t so…” He gestured vaguely. “Busy.”

You could see the classic Ijichi’s polite smile from where you stood. It was the same tight-lipped expression he used when he wanted to refuse but couldn’t find the words.

“Ah, well, I suppose I could…” he started, trailing off as Gojo’s grin widened.

That was enough for you. Without thinking, you marched over, planting yourself between the two of them.

Gojo,” you almost barked, sharply, staring him down. “I think you can handle this one yourself. Ijichi has enough on his plate and he has to speak with Yaga.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh? Didn’t know the wife became the spokesperson! But come on, Ijichi’s the best man for the job! He loves this type of work!”

“Maybe,” you retorted, eyes squinting and arms crossed, “but even the best deserves a break. Right, Kiyotaka?”

Ijichi blinked, caught off guard. “I-I suppose…”

Gojo shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You’re right. I’ll ask someone else.” With a cheeky grin, he sauntered off, calling over his shoulder, “But don’t think you’ve seen the last of me!”

You turned to Ijichi, a triumphant smile on your face. “There. Problem solved.”

But instead of looking relieved, he seemed troubled, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Thank you,” he muttered, barely audible.

🍵

Later that evening back at home, dinner was quiet. Ijichi kept conversation short and even excused himself early to go to his study.

“Jichi? Honey?” You softly called out as you made your way down the hall, a cup of fresh tea in hand for him as you peered at his relaxed figure from the cracked door of his study. “Can I come in?”

He smiled and waved you in, “Come in. Just reading.” He slipped the bookmark in and sat the book down. “Is that tea for me?”

You nodded and the cup it down before leaning against his desk. “Fresh ginger tea. With a bit of mint from the garden.”

He smiled and took a sip, the warmth filling his chest as he sat it back down. “Thank you darling.”

Watching him intently, you gave a warm smile. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “About earlier… with Gojo. I know you meant well, and I appreciate you stepping in, but…” He looked up at you, his expression pained. “I don’t want people to think I can’t fend for myself.”

You frowned, guilt tugging at your chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He saw you thumbing with the edge of his desk and stood up, bringing his hands to your waist. “I’m just really not a big fan of seeing people take advantage of you.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But sometimes I need to handle things on my own, even if I mess up sometimes.” His gentle disposition was the sweetest. A level headed man even when he was feeling bogged. “Gojo can be a lot and you were right, I didn’t have the capacity for the work he was trying to pass on to me. But I would’ve figured it out.”

You nodded, rubbing up and down his forearms as you looked to see his unperturbed face. “You’re right. From now on, I’ll let you decide when and if you need me to step in. But if it ever gets too much…”

“I’ll tell you,” he finished, offering a small smile. “I appreciate that you care so much for me. You are my life. And knowing I have you in my corner is enough to make me speak up more. So when I need you, I’ll tell you..”

“Deal?” you asked, holding out your pinky.

He chuckled, linking his pinky with yours. “Deal.”

A playful grin spread across your face. “But you’ve got to admit, I rattled Gojo pretty well.”

Ijichi laughed, his cheeks flushing. “You did. Honestly, I think he’s a little scared of you now.”

“As he should be,” you said proudly, resting your chin on his shoulder as he swayed you for a moment. “But don’t worry—I’ll save my scary side for when you really need it.”

He smiled against the top of your head, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your crown. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably have a lot less drama in your life,” you teased, earning another laugh.

“You make things more lively. I’d be a lost man without it.”

The moment lingered, warm and sweet, the tension from earlier melting away. Ijichi knew you meant every word. Your devotion to him was truly a gift and you were always going to be the reason he felt like a winner.

[emjayewrites]

Sakura Dreams 🌸🗼🇯🇵 • Jules Koundé (5/6)

SYNOPSIS: It was supposed to be a guys’ trip to Japan after a disappointing ending to the Euros, however, fate had another thing in mind.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x fem!blackOC (Ayo Pratt) (faceclaim @/joie.ade)

WARNINGS: cursing, poor google translations, football b.s & drama, flirty!jules, eventual smut. MINORS DNI!!!

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0 @elyseesarchive @peaceiswonderful

A/N: Jules was in Japan, so of course I had to make a short series about it. Also, if you’re a Jules girl, please let me know and I’ll tag you in more chapters. This one is fairly short because the final chapter will be long af.

Jules woke to the familiar warmth of Ayo beside him, sunlight streaming through his hotel window in Osaka. Their group arrived late last night, exhausted from the journey but content. As usual, Jules wasted no time in having yet another sleepover with Ayo, and they spent most of last night fucking each other's brains out. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, memorizing the feel of her skin.

As if sensing his touch, Ayo stirred. "Mmm, what time is it?"

"Early enough," Jules murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Want to get breakfast?"

She nodded sleepily, and they began their morning routine - a dance they'd perfected over the past days. Jules watched as Ayo got ready, struck by how natural this felt, how easily they'd fallen into sync with each other.

"I know this cute café near Dotonbori," Jules suggested, pulling on a white linen shirt. "They have amazing croissants."

Ayo emerged from the bathroom, looking fresh and radiant. "Croissants, huh? Very on brand for you."

Jules laughed, catching her around the waist and pulling her close. "What can I say? Some stereotypes exist for a reason."

They made their way through Osaka's already bustling streets, their hands naturally finding each other. The café was tucked away in a quiet corner, its windows steamed up from fresh-baked pastries.

Over coffee and croissants, Jules decided it was time to address what had been on his mind. "I want to talk about what happens after," he said carefully, watching her reaction.

Ayo paused, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. "After?"

"When you go to London. When I go back to Barcelona." Jules leaned forward, his eyes intent on hers. "I know we haven't known each other long, but this... us... it feels different."

Ayo set down her cup, her expression thoughtful. "Different how?"

"Like something worth holding onto," Jules replied softly. "London and Barcelona aren't that far apart. And with our schedules - your modeling, my football - we could make it work."

A small smile played at the corners of Ayo's mouth. "Are you saying you want to date me properly, Jules Koundé?"

"I'm saying I want to try," he admitted. "Unless you were planning to forget about me once we leave Japan?"

"As if I could," Ayo murmured, reaching across the table to take his hand.

They spent the rest of the morning walking around the neighborhood, their conversation flowing easily between serious topics and playful banter. Jules found himself constantly drawn to her - the way she laughed, how her eyes lit up when she discovered something new, the gentle squeeze of her hand in his.

"You know," Ayo said, "I wasn't expecting this either."

"What's that?"

"Finding someone like you. Feeling like this." She turned to face him. "It's kind of scary, actually."

Jules pulled her closer, understanding exactly what she meant. "Good scary or bad scary?"

"Good scary," she assured him.

They made their way to Kuromon Ichiba Market for lunch, sampling various street foods and local delicacies. Jules couldn't help but notice how comfortable they'd become with each other - the casual touches, the shared looks, the way they naturally gravitated toward one another in crowds.

"Our friends may think we're crazy," Ayo mentioned between bites of takoyaki.

"For what?"

"For thinking we could make this work after the trip."

Jules considered this. "Maybe we are. But I'd rather be crazy than wonder 'what if.'"

Their phones buzzed simultaneously - their friends wondering where they'd disappeared to. Reality intruded on their private moment, reminding them that their time wasn't entirely their own.

"We should probably head back," Ayo sighed. "Symone's been wanting to check out this karaoke place."

Jules nodded, but pulled her in for a kiss before they left. It was soft and sweet, full of promise. "Just remember," he murmured against her lips, "whatever happens after this trip, you're mine."

Ayo smiled, her fingers tracing the new bracelet on her wrist. "And you're mine."

They rejoined their friends at a karaoke bar in Namba, where the night dissolved into laughter and terrible singing. Jules watched Ayo perform a duet with Symone, her joy infectious, and felt his heart swell. He caught Wilhelm's knowing look and shrugged. His friend was right - he was in deep.

Tomorrow would bring new adventures, and more memories to cherish. In a few days, their paths would go their separate ways - him to Okinawa with the guys, her back to New York to prepare for her move to London. But for now, they had this moment.

Ayo lounged on Symone's bed in their Osaka hotel suite, half-listening to her friends' chatter as she reminisced about her time with Jules thus far.

"Ayo!" Nikki's voice cut through her daydream. "Girl, you are sprung."

"Seriously," Gigi laughed, flopping down beside her. "One taste of that French dick and you're speaking in oui oui's."

Ayo rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Y'all are ridiculous."

"Are we wrong though?" Symone raised an eyebrow. "You've been glowing ever since Kyoto. And don't think we haven't noticed you sneaking off to his room every night."

"You better start learning French," Nikki teased. "Can't have your man whispering sweet nothings and you not understanding."

Ayo threw a pillow at her. "He's not my man…"

"Yet," all three girls chorused.

"But seriously," Symone said, her tone softening. "Are you going to try to make it work?"

Ayo touched her bracelet again, remembering Jules' words from their date. "Maybe. We talked about it yesterday actually. He wants to try."

"And you?"

"I think… I think I do too."

The girls squealed, piling onto the bed in a group hug. "Our little Ayo, falling in love with a whole footballer!" Gigi exclaimed.

"Speaking of which," Nikki checked her phone, "we need to start getting ready. The sumo event starts in two hours."

They scattered to their rooms to prepare. Ayo chose a purple dress that hugged her curves, pairing it with strappy heels. Her hair was styled in a low bun, and she kept her makeup minimal but striking.

When they met the guys in the lobby, Ayo couldn't help but notice how handsome Jules looked in his fitted black pants and matching shirt. His dreads were pulled back neatly, and his cologne hit her as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Tu es magnifique," he murmured in her ear.

The sumo arena was packed, the atmosphere electric with anticipation. Jules kept his arm around Ayo as they found their seats, his thumb absently stroking her shoulder.

"Have you ever seen sumo before?" he asked.

Ayo shook her head. "Never. You?"

"Once, years ago. It's quite something."

As the matches began, Ayo found herself captivated by the ritual and ceremony of it all. Each bout was preceded by elaborate traditions, the wrestlers throwing salt and performing ceremonial moves.

"It's beautiful in its own way," she whispered to Jules.

He nodded, pulling her closer. "Like a dance."

The power and skill of the wrestlers was impressive, their matches sometimes lasting mere seconds despite the lengthy build-up. Ayo found herself getting caught up in the excitement, cheering along with the crowd.

After the event, they headed to a high-end restaurant for dinner. The conversation flowed easily, everyone sharing their impressions of the sumo and their plans for the remaining days in Osaka.

"You two seem closer now," AK commented, nodding at Jules and Ayo.

Jules just smiled, his hand finding Ayo's under the table. The gesture was small but intimate, making her heart skip.

As their food arrived - a stunning array of sashimi, wagyu beef, and other delicacies - Ayo felt a warmth spread through her chest. Looking around the table at their friends, at Jules beside her, she realized how much she was going to miss this when it was over.

The night wound down with drinks at a rooftop bar overlooking the city. The Osaka skyline twinkled before them, a perfect backdrop to their laughter and conversation.

Jules pulled Ayo aside at one point, leading her to a quiet corner. "Dance with me?" he asked softly.

There was no proper dance floor, just a small space near their table, but Ayo didn't care. She melted into his arms as they swayed to the gentle music, her head resting on his shoulder.

"I could get used to this," she murmured.

Jules' arms tightened around her. "Good. Because I'm not planning on letting you go anytime soon."

Their friends watched from the table, exchanging knowing looks.

Later that night, as they walked back to the hotel hand in hand, Ayo felt a sense of certainty settles over her. Back in her hotel suite, Ayo sat at the vanity removing her makeup while Symone lounged on the bed.

"You know," Symone mused, scrolling through the photos from the night, "I've never seen you like this with anyone. Not even Jamaal."

Ayo paused, cotton pad pressed to her face. "It's different with Jules. He doesn't try to control me or my career. He actually gets excited about it."

"Plus, he fine as hell," Symone added with a grin.

Ayo laughed, throwing her used cotton pad at her friend. "That too."

Her phone buzzed - a text from Jules: "Already missing you. Breakfast tomorrow?"

"Look at you, blushing over a text," Symone teased, catching Ayo's soft smile.

"Girl, shut up," Ayo replied, but her heart fluttered as she typed back a quick "Yes please x"

As she got ready for bed, Ayo's mind wandered to their conversation at the café. The idea of trying to maintain something with Jules after Japan had seemed impossible at first. But now, with each passing day, it felt more and more within reach.

"What you thinking about?" Symone asked, noting her friend's contemplative expression.

"Just... everything. How crazy this all is. Two weeks ago, I was focused solely on my move to London. Now..."

"Now you're planning weekend trips to Barcelona?" Symone waggled her eyebrows.

"You're impossible."

"But am I wrong?"

Ayo smiled softly. "No, you're not wrong."

Her phone buzzed again - another text from Jules with a photo attached. It was from earlier at the sumo event, capturing a moment when she was laughing at something he'd said. She looked happy, radiant even.

"Mon bébé," his message read. "Sweet dreams x"

Maybe my friends were right, Ayo thought as she climbed into bed. Maybe she did need to learn some French. Because this thing with Jules? It definitely wasn't ending when they left Japan.

And for once, that thought didn't scare her at all.

The sun had barely risen, casting a soft, early glow over the room, and the whole place was still. Jules shifted on the bed, blinking sleepily as Ayo moved downwards, her skin illuminated by the soft morning light sneaking through the curtains.

Not wanting to wake anyone else, he’d texted her to slip over early, just before sunrise, when no one else would notice. And now she was here, in his room on the cusp of giving what he'd known to be the best morning head of his life.

Ayo moved closer, hands warm as they slid up his thighs, pulling the sheets down slowly. Jules’ pulse quickened, and he watched her with a mixture of anticipation and restraint, knowing they had to keep quiet. She lowered her head, her mouth brushing against him, sending a shiver down his spine. He clenched his jaw, stifling the urge to let out a groan as her tongue flicked over the tip of his cock, teasing and slow.

Her eyes flicked up to his, her mouth curved in a soft, mischievous smile. She was savoring every second, and he could barely keep his breathing steady, every nerve on edge. The pleasure built, his body responding to her with every touch, every flick of her tongue, every warm, gentle pull. He leaned his head back, biting his lip, fighting the sounds that clawed at his throat.

"Ayo...," he whispered, a hint of desperation in his tone. She only hummed in response, which made him throb even more, the vibrations adding another layer of intensity he hadn't expected. He knew he had to stay quiet, that his friends were only a few doors down, but the way she moved, her mouth soft and eager, her hands firm against his thighs—it was driving him mad. His hips jerked involuntarily, and he gripped the sheets, breathing through clenched teeth to stop himself from making a sound.

Ayo didn’t break eye contact, letting her movements speak for her as she adjusted her rhythm, her lips and tongue working him with skillful confidence. She hummed again, sending vibrations straight through him, and he couldn’t stop a low groan from escaping his lips.

"Mon Dieu…putain," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut, his hands now gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. The sound of his quiet, raspy breaths filled the room, mixing with her soft sucking sounds. "You're... too good at this." A hint of a smile breaking through despite his struggle for control. She only chuckled softly in response, and the sound sent another shiver down his spine.

He reached down, fingers threading through her hair, both guiding and grounding himself, needing something to hold onto. The thickness of her hair, the warmth of her, everything felt too good, too intense. Ayo responded, adjusting her movements just enough to match his silent cues, and he felt himself growing even closer to the edge.

"Ayo…fuck I'm going to come, ma belle," he said, his voice strained, filled with the unspoken plea to both continue and give him just a moment to breathe. She pulled back slightly, giving him a teasing look, and he felt a mix of relief and longing. Just when he thought he could regain control, she moved again, leaving him breathless all over.

Finally, as he felt himself nearing his limit, he gently pulled her up to him, meeting her gaze with an expression that was both gratitude and need. He drew her into his arms, capturing her mouth with his, letting himself get lost in the kiss, savoring the taste of himself on her lips. Ayo smiled, clearly satisfied with the effect she had on him.

"Couldn’t keep quiet, could you?" she teased softly.

He chuckled, catching his breath. "When you’re that good, what do you expect?" He flipped her over with ease, settling in the apex of her thighs as she lay beneath him. There was no space between their naked bodies and Jules pulled away briefly to grab a condom from his bedside drawer. He ripped the foil packet open before sheathing himself. "I need to fuck you, bébé."

With that, he guided himself inside her, and he had to bury his face in her shoulder, breathing in her scent, grounding himself as she started to move. He started off slowly at first, then faster, his hips rolling with practiced ease, her legs bracketing his waist. The rhythm was perfect—just the right mix of urgency and control—and he felt himself melting above her, the intensity overwhelming.

He whispered her name again, a quiet rasp of a sound, as his movements picked up. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her breath hot against his ear, and he knew neither of them would last much longer. With one last thrust, he finally let go, his body shuddering, his fingers pressing into her waist as he tried his best to muffle his own sounds against her skin.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck," he grunted as he spilled into the condom, breathless and slick with sweat. After some moments to regulate his breathing, he planted a tender kiss on her cheek then rolled off of her, a hand running through his locs. "Goddamn woman. You're trying to kill me."

"I could say the same 'bout you," Ayo giggled, cuddling closer to his side.

Jules shook his head, letting out a scoff, and pulled her flush against him. "Yeah, yeah. Just go easy on me next time, alright? I want to make it to my twenty-sixth birthday at least." He glanced at the clock next to him and cursed softly. "Merde, it's almost nine."

"Everyone will be up soon," Ayo murmured against his chest.

Jules ran a hand down her back, conflicted. They needed to eat, but he also didn't want to let her go just yet. "About breakfast..." he started.

"Skip it?" Ayo suggested, already reading his mind.

"You know me too well already." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Meet up with everyone later instead?"

"Sounds like a plan."

They dozed off for two hours before they finally got up. After parting ways to shower and change, they met their friends at the famous Osaka Castle Park, where they spent the afternoon exploring the grounds and taking photos.

"Look who finally decided to join us," AK teased as Jules and Ayo approached hand in hand.

Wilhelm shot them a knowing look. "Long morning?"

Jules ignored their jabs, focusing instead on how beautiful Ayo looked in her casual sundress, her hair pulled back in two puffs. She caught him staring and winked, making his heart skip.

Later, they made their way to Shinsaibashi, Osaka's premier shopping district. Jules watched Ayo browse through racks of vintage clothing, admiring how she could make even simple shopping look graceful.

After dinner at a local ramen shop, they wandered through Amerika-mura, Osaka's youth culture district, taking in the street art and fashion. Jules kept Ayo close, occasionally stealing kisses when their friends weren't looking.

"You're addictive," he murmured in her ear during one such moment.

Ayo smiled up at him. "Pot, meet kettle."

"I've been thinking," he said, his hand resting on her lower back.

"Dangerous," she teased.

He laughed softly. "I want you to come to Barcelona. After you're settled in London. Come see me play."

Ayo's eyes widened slightly. "Really?"

"Really. I want to show you my world."

"Okay."

Jules smiled at her answer, dipping his head to kiss her once more.

The night continued with more food, more drinks, and more laughter. Jules couldn't help but marvel at how much had changed in just two weeks. He'd come to Japan looking for a distraction, a way to shake off the disappointment of the Euros. Instead, he'd found something - someone - that made everything else fade into the background.

accordingtoayo • posted on her story 5 hours ago

accordingtoayo - Osaka, Japan

liked by jkeey4, symonenotbiles, pas_complique, and others

accordingtoayo: arigatō japan. you've shown me so much beauty, taught me patience, and encouraged me to take all that life has to offer. these last two weeks have been nothing but magical...

view all 350 comments…

jkeey4: you're the best travel partner. you're gonna be amazing in london. can't wait to see you again

nikkigal: this is so beautiful...loved spending this time with you.

symonenotbiles: my bestie!! can't wait to see you take over london!

gigithegreatest: i love you ayo!!!

pas_complique: it was nice meeting you and the girls in japan! when's our next trip???

The Osaka airport buzzed with early morning activity as the girls prepared to check their bags. Ayo felt a mix of sadness and excitement churning in her stomach - sad to leave Japan and Jules, but excited for what lay ahead.

Jules kept his arm around her waist as they waited in the check-in line, his thumb tracing small circles on her hip. Their friends gave them space, pretending to be absorbed in their phones while stealing obvious glances.

"I'll be in New York before you know it," Jules murmured in her ear. "Two weeks until I’ll see your gorgeous face and spend time with you before my training in Annapolis."

Ayo nodded, leaning into him. "Seems like forever though."

After checking their bags, the group lingered at the security checkpoint. Hugs were exchanged all around, promises to keep in touch, and phone numbers swapped.

Finally, it was just Jules and Ayo.

"Text me when you land?" he asked, pulling her close.

"Of course." She breathed in his scent one last time. "Have fun in Okinawa."

His kiss was gentle but thorough, making her toes curl. "Au revoir, ma belle."

The next two weeks passed in a blur of texting and FaceTime calls. Jules sent daily photos from Okinawa - him on the beach, exploring temples, trying local food. Ayo spent her days packing up her Lower East Side apartment and navigating the bureaucratic maze of the visa process at the British Embassy.

Jules: *photo of sunset* Missing you Ayo: Missing you more. How's the beach? Jules: Would be better with you here Jules: 12 days until NYC

Each day, his countdown continued: 11 days until NYC 10 days 9 days…

Ayo found herself checking flights to Barcelona while sorting through her closet. The distance seemed both overwhelming and manageable. A two-hour flight from London. They could make it work.

Jules: How's stuff with the visa? Is it figured out? Ayo: Yes! Just got my UK work visa! Jules: Look at you, being international Jules: 5 days until NYC

The day of Jules' arrival, Ayo surveyed her nearly empty apartment. Most of her stuff was already in storage or shipped to London, but she'd kept enough to make it homey. She'd spent the morning at the salon getting flexi rod curls that she knew wouldn't survive the night.

Jules: Through customs. 45 minutes x

Ayo turned on her oven, shaking her head at herself. "Look at me, cooking for a man," she muttered, but couldn't stop smiling. The simple pasta recipe she'd found on TikTok seemed foolproof enough.

As she pulled the roasted tomatoes, garlic, and basil from the oven, her doorbell rang. Frowning, she checked her phone - no way Jules made it through NYC traffic that fast.

Opening the door, she froze. "Jamaal?"

Her ex stood there, looking too comfortable for someone who wasn't invited. "Hey, baby."

"What are you doing here?" Ayo glanced down the hallway nervously.

"You blocked me. Had to come see you." He leaned against the doorframe. "Can't believe you went off to Japan without telling a nigga. What's up with that?"

"Jamaal, why the hell are you here?" she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Came by to talk to you. Thought we could work things out. Y'know how you get sometimes."

Ayo scoffed. "Are you smoking crack? We're never getting back together."

"Come on, baby, don't be like that. What we had—"

"Ma belle, who's this?"

Ayo's face lit up at Jules' voice. He stood in the hallway, looking fresh despite his long flight, a bouquet of flowers in one hand.

"Baby, I missed you!" She moved toward him instinctively.

"Missed you too." Jules kissed her softly before turning to Jamaal. "You didn't answer my question."

Jamaal drew himself up. "I'm her ex. We're working things out—"

Jules raised his eyebrows, amusement playing across his features. "Are you?" He looked at Ayo. "Is that what's happening?"

"He was just leaving," Ayo said firmly.

"Ayo, baby—" Jamaal started.

"She said you're leaving," Jules interrupted, his voice still pleasant but with an edge of steel. "So leave."

Jamaal cocked his head to the side, giving Jules a thorough once-over. "Aren't you that nigga that was in her comments?" His eyes scanned over to Ayo. "You let some random ass guy hit while you were in Japan?"

"Didn't she say you were leaving?" Jules bit in again, yet this time his voice was clearer and deeper, and he stepped towards Jamaal with his shoulders taut. The two men held each other's gazes in an intense impasse for several beats, sizing one another up.

But eventually, Jamaal stepped back. He looked between them, realization dawning. "Whatever," he muttered, turning to go. "This ain't over."

"It's been over," Ayo called after him before pulling Jules into her apartment.

As soon as the door closed, Jules had her pressed against it, his kiss hungry and possessive. "Missed you so much," he murmured against her lips, kicking his suitcase to the side and dropping the bouquet onto the floor.

"Missed you more."

Jules lifted her into his arms, and she instantly wrapped her legs around him. "Was that nigga trying to take my baby away from me? Didn't I tell you that you're mine?" Ayo nodded quickly, moaning into their kiss before it dissolved into a yelp as he slapped her ass. "Use your words."

"I'm all yours, baby. All yours."

"Good girl," he grinned wolfishly, carrying her toward the bedroom. "Now I'm going fuck you senseless."

Ayo melted into him, all thoughts of dinner forgotten. They had one week before she left for London, before he returned to Barcelona. But right now, at this moment, they were just Jules and Ayo, finding their way back to each other.

And maybe, she thought as he plopped her onto her bed, that was enough for now. Everything else - distance, careers, complications - could wait until tomorrow.

For tonight, it was all about them.

TO BE CONTINUED....

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

may you please make a part 2 to drunk call??🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 I can't end like that😔

PART TWO

jude bellingham x exgf!reader

PART ONE DRUNK CALL

PART THREE DRUNK CALL

a/n: this was (and took) sooo long that I had to make another part! And thank you for requesting the second part, I had so much fun continuing the story!

Jude never called.

You waited, even though you knew it was foolish. You waited through long, empty days, staring at your phone like it held the answer to all the questions you couldn't let go of. Wondering a lot of things, all of them having to do with Jude.

The first day after that night, you barely slept, listening to every quiet sound in your apartment, convinced that maybe, just maybe, you’d hear his knock at the door. On the second day, you kept your phone in your hand, glancing down every few minutes, your heart leaping at every notification, every small vibration. And by the end of the week, you found yourself laughing bitterly at your own persistence, at how much you’d let yourself hope, even when you knew better.

You had been telling yourself, every morning as you woke up, that that day would be different. That you wouldn’t let your mind wander to that quiet promise he’d made, his voice so soft you could still hear it, could still feel the warmth of his hand in yours as he’d said it. You knew it wasn’t true even as he’d said it—knew he wouldn’t call, couldn’t call, because that’s what breaking up meant. Still, hope clung to your heart, relentless, like some foolish thing.

So you waited.

You waited through the hours that turned into days, each one bringing fresh reminders that he was moving on, that his life was a current pulling him further and further from you. You’d check your phone, not expecting to see his name but hoping all the same, holding your breath every time it buzzed. And each time, your heart sank a little deeper.

But you waited still.

Jude didn´t call.

You tried to text him. Countless times. In those late, lonely hours, your fingers would hover over the screen, struggling to find words that could hold even a fraction of everything you felt. It was always something casual, something lighthearted, as if you could fool him—and yourself—into thinking you were fine, as if you didn’t feel like your heart was breaking all over again each time you realized he was really gone.

"Hey, just wanted to check in. Hope you’re good." (Delete.) Too casual.

"Miss you. Just… thought you should know." (Delete.) Too vulneable.

"Hi, I saw your last game, you were amazing!" (Delete.) Too nice?

Every message felt hollow before it even left your fingers. What good would it do, anyway? He’d made it clear in his silence. You’d both known it couldn’t work, that your lives were pulling you two in opposite directions. He’d warned you as much, his words gentle but firm, saying things like, “We’ve got so much ahead of us, love. You’ve got your path, and I’ve got mine. If life wants, we´ll find each other again.” But he’d said it like it was for you, like letting you go was some form of love you weren’t supposed to understand.

And as the days turned to weeks, you started to believe he was right.

Honestly, you didn’t even know how to feel. Sad, angry, disappointed, embarrassed?

Each emotion tangled into a painful knot in your chest, and you couldn’t tell which feeling hurt the most. Sad, because you missed him with an ache so deep it felt like part of you was missing. Angry, because he’d let you go so easily, without a single call, without even trying. Disappointed, because you had clung to the quiet hope that maybe he still cared enough to reach out. Embarrassed, because despite everything, you’d allowed yourself to hold on, to wait like a fool for something that would never happen.

Yet, the world wouldn’t let you forget him. Every corner you turned, you saw him—on billboards, in match highlights, in advertisements... He was everywhere, as though the universe itself had made a cruel joke of your pain, forcing you to watch him live on, shining as bright as ever. You saw him laughing on a teammate’s story, his smile warm and carefree. You saw him in interviews, composed and confident, speaking about his achievements and his ambitions as if nothing else mattered. He looked fine, perfectly whole, like you’d never been a part of his life at all.

Each day, the silence grew louder, the hope dimmer, until your patience twisted into bitterness, then resignation. You had to live. You had to let him go, even if every part of you was still holding on. And so, with a heavy heart, you made the only choice you could: you blocked him, a decision that felt both too small and impossibly final. Then, you went to your contacts, your thumb hovering over his name, the one you still couldn’t bring yourself to eliminate. This time, instead of calling him, you did something different.

With a deep breath, you pressed delete, erasing the last way of contacting him you had. You knew his number by heart, every digit burned into your memory, as if letting it go would somehow let him slip further away. But maybe that’s what you needed—to let go, truly let go, so you could finally breathe. Even if you tried to call him or add him again, you had several figures to let you rethink before committing a huge mistake.

Afterward, you sat alone, staring into the silence of your tiny apartment, feeling the weight of the finality settle around you. You ran a hand over your face, feeling the exhaustion from pretending, from hoping, from clinging to a future you could never have.

On the other side of that silence, Jude felt your absence as a steady, relentless ache that he couldn’t shake. In the quiet spaces between training, in the dead of night after a long game, he felt it most—the weight of your absence, the hollow space where you’d once been. He knew he should call, that he should reach out, hear your voice one last time. But he couldn’t bear it. He knew you´d wait for him if he gave you even the faintest reason to. And it terrified him, the thought that you’d hold onto him, sacrificing parts of your own life for the sake of his.

So he let you go, telling himself it was the right thing to do, that this was the most unselfish choice he could make. But every time he tried to believe it, he felt like he was betraying himself, betraying the love you’d shared.

He tried to lose himself in his career, in the game that had always been his one constant. But no victory, no goal, no applause could drown out the emptiness he carried inside. He wanted to tell you, to let you know that his silence wasn’t indifference, that his heart was breaking just as much as yours. But every time he picked up his phone, he’d set it back down, the words he wanted to say sticking in his throat.

He saw the world as a series of checkmarks and achievements, but none of it felt as bright, as warm, as real as those quiet moments he’d had with you. Those nights lying together, the way you’d laugh and roll your eyes at his bad jokes, the way you’d look at him as if he were more than he believed himself to be. He missed you in a way he didn’t know how to explain, in a way he didn’t know how to live with. But he’d made a choice, and he’d told himself he would stick to it.

Months passed, and you did your best to move forward, carving out a new life, piece by piece, in the wake of his absence. You kept yourself busy—classes, late-night studying, juggling shifts to cover tuition. It was exhausting, but you almost welcomed the tiredness; it kept you grounded, kept you from lingering in the past. While studying, to pay your debts, you worked in a prestigious catering company, the kind that only served high-profile events, but even as your skills sharpened and your responsibilities grew, your heart never felt as full as it once had.

You’d see glimpses of Jude’s life in the rare moments you allowed yourself to look. Despite blocking him, it was impossible not to know what he was up to—his success was plastered everywhere, his goals, his accolades, his bright future. Each headline was a bitter reminder that he was out there, rising, while you remained here, trying to pick up the pieces.

One day, your manager pulled you and your coworkers aside and briefed you about an upcoming event, hinting at its significance. “It’s one of the biggest events we’ll handle all year, so be at your best. We’re talking global importance,” she said, eyes alight with excitement. She was sparse on the details, but the way she spoke made it clear that this wasn’t just another upscale gathering. You nodded along, more focused on memorizing the itinerary and service details than wondering who would be there.

The day arrived, and you went about your work, clad in a crisp uniform, doing your best to stay professional. The space was dazzling—high ceilings, crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow, and tables meticulously set with silverware that gleamed under the lights. You were given a tray of fizzy and sparkling drinks, instructed to serve as the event unfolded.

That’s when you felt the electric buzz in the air, a shift in the atmosphere that suggested someone important had arrived. You saw a few of your colleagues exchanging glances, eyes widening as if they’d just spotted a celebrity. Curious, you glanced around, only to see a coworker hurriedly approaching you, eyes wide and speechless as he leaned in close.

“It’s Real Madrid,” he whispered, and your heart dropped.

Real Madrid.

Your hand tightened around the tray as your mind started racing. Real Madrid was here, in this very room. Which meant…

You felt your heart stutter, panic settling deep in your chest as the weight of that realization washed over you. You knew Jude would be here. He had to be. It was a big event, a high-profile event, one he wouldn’t miss. And now, after all those months of silence, after all the nights you’d spent waiting, he was right here, closer than he’d been in what felt like a lifetime.

You felt your feet move as if they were no longer your own, your body frozen between the urge to stay and the overwhelming need to flee. You tried to steady your breathing, tried to tell yourself that it was just another job, that you’d handle this as professionally as any other event. But the mere thought of seeing him again, of standing so close that you could hear his voice, see his face—how could you possibly prepare yourself for that?

Your teammate’s eyes were on you, watching the shock that must have painted your face, and you felt a sense of dread twist in your stomach. You wanted to say something, to ask if he’d seen Jude specifically, if you’d have to serve him. But even opening your mouth to speak felt impossible, the words caught in your throat. Instead, you swallowed hard, pressing your lips together as you took a shaky breath.

Somehow, you had to power through this.

[majoryeager104]

i can’t stop sending you requests buttttt what’s your opinion on this: what about teen touya having a so and enji knowing it (sadly) and he would force touya to stop seeing them because they’re a distraction for becoming the hero he wants to be. we all know that’s touya’s dream but on the other hand we’re talking about the only person who actually understands himmmm. thk uuu

omggggg this is awesome thnx for the requests tho cos I love doing em 🫶

Warnings: angst, good ending tho bc I can’t handle traumatizing Touya any more than he already is lmao

“I think the two of you should part ways for the sake of your career”

Those simple words from his father caused him so much inner turmoil as he heard them. Touya had been with you for months, and he was just saying this now!? He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “Excuse me?” He said, his voice sharp with conviction, breath shaky with emotion. Enji sighed, sitting back in his chair. “You need to focus on your goals, otherwise you’ll end up failing-“

“no actually I mean excuse you.” Touya snapped, standing up from his seat. “Failing? Don’t make me laugh, I’m not gonna fail just because I’m happy for the first time in my life” Touya said rather roughly, clenching his fists as he looked down at the shallow man he had to call a father. Enji furrowed his brow, irritated now as he attempted to resolve the situation. But Touya refused to let it slide, not when his future- the one he wanted to share with you- was at stake.

“Touya-“ “don’t interrupt me! Even if you’re right and I do fail, at least I won’t fail like you have! At least, unlike you, I don’t throw away the people I care about for my own selfish goals!” He shouted, his fists so firmly clenched that he felt nothing but anger and searing pain, like if he got any more upset he might make himself bleed. He didn’t mind though, his rage blinding his concern for his own wellbeing as he glared down at Enji “Touya I’m telling you as your father that it would be for the best.” “My father? You finally want to be my father!?” He raised his hands in the air as if Enji had just admitted defeat. “And you think this gives you the right to control my life any more than you already have!?”

His palms were definitely bleeding now, his fingernails cutting through the burn-scarred skin. He took another shaky breath, trying to reel in the shuddering anger. Suddenly Enji slammed his own fists against the desk in front of him. “That’s enough! I’m not asking. Your behavior is unacceptable. I’ve already contacted her parents, and we agreed it would be best for both of you. It’s over.” Enji snapped back, his words nearly stopping Touyas thudding heart.

It’s over.

Two words that Enji shouldn’t have any right to utter, but he did. Suddenly, Touyas violent resolve crumbled beneath him, and he fell back into the turmoil that he now identified as grief. “You…you what?” He said, his voice shaking under the weight of his own shouted words, as well as the emotions hanging over him. He took one step back, than another. The world seemed hazy. They decided this, not him, not you, so how is it final?

“Y/n’s parents already spoke with her. And unlike you, she didn’t argue.” Enji clenched his jaw, hoping to resolve this, whether it hurt Touya or not. He didn’t care if it was a lie- that you’d reacted the same way Touya did- all he cared about was that Touya focused on his work. Because his masterpiece Shoto wasn’t ready yet, so he needed his broken mosaic of a son to pull through and succeed where he failed- a broken man living vicariously through the lives of his sons. now at this statement, Touyas rapid heartbeat nearly stopped. You…didn’t fight? Didn’t even talk back? No…no that can’t be right. He stared at his father for a moment, before spinning on his heels and walking out, slamming the door rather violently. So violently in fact, that the door handle melted slightly under his currently barely controlled quirk. He didn’t care though, storming into to his room and locking it, scrambling for his phone. he had to contact you. He had to. He needed to know why you’d let him go like this. Why you- someone who understood and accepted him unlike anyone else- had given up on him. The mere thought made him want to cry. He pulled his phone from his schoolbag frantically, the screen lighting up. To reveal several messages and missed calls

from you. he sighed in a vague sense of relief, sitting down as he opened your messages where you relayed to him what your parents had requested- more specifically, that you’d rejected the idea, and left. So Enji lied. Of course. but his anxiety still remained, eating away at him as he stared at your contact on his phone. that is, until he got another text from you

”hey, open ur window”

And heard a knock at his window

and he turned to see your familiar face smiling through the glass, waving sheepishly in the rain.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 13

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

WARNING: Some suggestive material but nothing graphic.

First - Prev - Next

CH.13

“...You didn’t go into town and pay the bill a week ago when I told you to, did you?”

“I cannot believe this happened!”

“You ‘cannot’ believe it, really? You couldn’t have ever considered that this would happen?”

“I thought I had more time.”

“Stanford, you haven’t paid the electricity bill in six months! How they ain’t shut off the power sooner-.”

“We have bigger problems, Fiddleford- if the power in the house is out, that means the power in the lab is out. And the forcefield is down. We have a limited amount of time to get it back up before Stanley escapes.”

“Even without the forcefield, he’s still in a cell made of concrete and steel.”

“You’re right; we need to hurry, it won’t hold him for long.”

“Could you hold your horses? A cell should hold him just fine, he’s been to prison three times-.”

“He’s broken out of five of them.”

“...That math doesn’t-.”

“I understand that my brother has changed in the ten years we’ve been apart. But trust me when I tell you he cannot be underestimated.”

“Well, what can we rightly do? Even if you go into town right now and pay off the utilities, it’d take-.”

“I have an emergency generator, but it’s going to take approximately 20 minutes to activate - once he realizes the grid is down, it’ll take less time than that for him to break out of the cell.”

“What do we do, then?”

“I can get it up and running again- do not give me that look, Fiddleford. This is my own programming. I need you to distract him long enough that he doesn’t leave the lab.”

“How in tarnation am I gonna do that?”

“You are a genius Fiddleford- figure it out. I believe in you, you got this.”

*Fiddleford goes back downstairs to the lab. Ford waits for him to be out of earshot before speaking*

“... Stanley likes him, he shouldn’t hurt him too much.”

(...)

"Stan, I know what you’re thinking right now; but you need to stay."

*Fiddleford stops near the bottom of the stairs, Stan is already out of his cell and has taken his brass knuckles from Fords desk*

"Oh, and are you going to stop me? Nothing you do or say is going to keep me down here."

“Uhh- Uhh. What if I-?!”

*Fiddleford unbuttons the first two buttons of his shirt*

"Really, F? You're going to try to honey trap me? That's one of the oldest tricks in the book. I know you're only doing it to buy t-"

*Fiddleford undoes his belt and zipper in a quick movement*

*Stan flicks his eyes down, and then up, and then down slightly longer, and then back up.*

"...a few minutes won’t hurt."

(...)

“Lights- check. Locks - check. Thermostat - check. Everything is in working order, and I haven’t heard anything from downstairs. Nothing should be out of- you are standing right behind me aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Fiddleford’s been impeded?”

“Dunno what the word means but your friend is fine, just zip tied to a chair.”

“And you’re angry?”

“Totally pissed.”

“And you’re here for vengeance?”

“I wouldn't say vengeance… I’d say-.”

*Stan grabs Ford by the back of his collar and  wrenches him back, before grabbing the front of his collar to slam him against a wall and off of the ground*

“Ack-!”

“This is just self-preservation. I told you before, I’m not gonna hold a grudge against you; cause you got issues man. But you made a mistake thinking I was going to take imprisonment lying down.”

“Reconconsi-.”

“I’ll make this quick- I think you’re a nice guy, really. This is the nicest anyone has ever been to me, and wow I realize that's pretty sad now that I've said it. But I’ve been imprisoned enough times, and I don’t need a maniac like you to chase after me.”

“Wait-.”

“I’m sorry about this, I'll make this one hit. Just one hit, and you’ll be knocked out; that’s it, nothing permanent.”

*Stan reels a fist back to punch him in the face*

“Ha ha! Good thing you've got your smarts, Poindexter. I've got the other thing. What is it called? Oh, right, punching!”

“No matter what anyone says, you’re a good kid, Stanley.”

*Stan abruptly stops before his fist can land, shaking slightly*

“St… Stanley?”

“...I’ve hurt people. I‘ve hurt lots of people. Even people who didn’t deserve it. After what you did, I shouldn’t…”

*Ford is gently lowered back onto the ground, and Stan lets his collar go*

“I can’t hurt you. I can’t make myself hurt you. Why can’t I?”

“You know why…”

“I-... I don’t. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

“Stanley-.”

“I’ll stay.”

“... What?”

“I’ll stay, Stanford. If you’re so convinced I’m your estranged twin and you’ll get even more crazy if I leave, I won’t. I’ll be here and play along with your delusions, however long it takes you to work out your issues.”

“You… You will?”

“Yeah, I will. Just stop keeping me in a damn cell, I’ll sleep on a freaking couch for all I care, just… not in that cell anymore. I’ve served my time already.”

“Of course, of course-. And you will really stay? You are not going to run off into the night when I least expect it?”

“Doc, it’s not like I have anywhere else to go. Besides, eventually you’ll get sick of my BS, and tell me to take a hike.”

“No. Not this time.”

"What was that last thing that you just whispered to yourself?”

“Don't worry about it. Somehow, some way, I promise we will get your memories back.”

“...We should uh, probably go free specs now.”

“Of course-. You didn’t hurt him too badly, did you?”

“Hurt? Like… physically?”

“...Yes?”

“He’s fine. But I owe him an apology… and a cigarette, and a drink.”

(...)

“Oh Fiddleford, I am so glad you’re alright. Let me cut those zip ties for you.”

“...Stanford?”

“Yes?”

“Are you listening to me right now?”

“Yes?”

“Are. You. Listening!?”

“I am listening to you, Fiddleford.”

“If you ever - and I mean ever - so much as imply I’ve never done anything for you, I am going to smack your shit so hard you’ll think the ground flew up and hit you.”

“...”

“Understand?!”

“Y-Yes, yes of course.” 

To be continued…

[dissapointu]

“More to Love”

How each of the main Arcane characters treats you as a chubby partner, supports you through insecurities, and makes you feel completely loved:

Jinx

Jinx is immediately drawn to your softness, both inside and out. She’s not one to care about societal norms or what people say about appearances, and she makes that very clear.

“Who cares what they think?” she says, draping herself across you like a cat. “You’re perfect just the way you are. Besides, all this?”—she squeezes your side playfully—“makes you the best cuddle buddy ever.”

Jinx can sense when you’re feeling insecure, even if you don’t say it out loud. She’ll do anything to cheer you up: crack jokes, pull you into impromptu dance sessions, or draw silly caricatures of people who make you feel less-than.

When she notices you being hard on yourself, she’ll sit you down and make you look her in the eyes. “You’re mine, okay? I don’t want anyone else, so stop thinking you’re not good enough for me. You’re more than enough.” Her words may be blunt, but the sincerity in her voice is undeniable.

She loves running her fingers along your curves, tracing patterns absentmindedly while cuddling. “You’re like a human marshmallow,” she says with a grin. “Sweet, soft, and impossible not to love.”

Vi

Vi is fiercely protective of you, and your insecurities are no exception. She’s always the first to notice when you’re down on yourself and refuses to let those thoughts win.

“Hey,” she says firmly, gently tipping your chin up to meet her eyes. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. I love every inch of you—every single inch. Got it?”

She’s all about actions, too. If someone makes a rude comment about your weight, they’re likely to get a very stern talking-to (or worse) from her. “No one messes with my girl,” she’ll growl, wrapping an arm around you protectively.

Vi also has a way of making you feel like the most beautiful person in the world without even trying. Whether she’s pulling you into her lap, complimenting the way your clothes fit, or leaving kisses along your jawline, she never misses an opportunity to show you how much she loves you.

“More of you to love,” she says with a cheeky grin, kissing your cheek. “Lucky me.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s love for you is steadfast and unwavering. She’s always been someone who values a person’s heart and character above all else, and she makes sure you know that.

“Darling, your worth isn’t tied to your size,” she tells you gently, holding your hands in hers. “You’re beautiful to me in every way that matters.”

Caitlyn is incredibly supportive when it comes to helping you feel confident. She loves taking you shopping for clothes that make you feel amazing, offering compliments that never feel forced. “That color looks stunning on you,” she’ll say with a smile, her eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

When insecurities creep in, Caitlyn is patient and understanding. She’ll sit with you, listen to your concerns, and remind you of all the reasons she fell in love with you. “You’re my everything,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And nothing will ever change that.”

Ekko

Ekko is all about making you feel like a rockstar. He loves hyping you up, whether it’s complimenting your smile, your laugh, or the way you light up a room just by being in it.

“Do you even realize how incredible you are?” he asks, spinning you around playfully. “Because if not, I’ll remind you every single day.”

He’s quick to shut down any negative thoughts you have about yourself. “You’re so much more than what you see in the mirror,” he says, pulling you into a hug. “You’ve got this light, you know? And I’m the luckiest guy in the world to be near it.”

Ekko’s favorite thing is dancing with you, holding you close and spinning you around like you’re the star of your own music video. He loves how free and alive you look when you let go of your insecurities, and he’ll do anything to make you feel that way more often.

Silco

Silco may not be the most openly affectionate partner, but his devotion to you is undeniable. He values your intelligence, your loyalty, and your kindness above all else, and he makes sure you know it.

“You underestimate yourself,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “You see flaws where I see strength. Don’t let anyone, not even yourself, diminish your worth.”

When you express insecurities, Silco listens intently, his gaze sharp and focused. He doesn’t offer empty platitudes but instead reminds you of the qualities that make you unique. “You’ve faced so much, and yet you stand tall. That’s what I admire most about you.”

Though he’s not one for public displays of affection, Silco shows his love through small, meaningful gestures: a hand on your back, a kiss on your temple, or the way he always makes time for you, no matter how busy he is.

“You’re mine,” he says simply, his voice low and steady. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Vander

Vander is a comforting presence, always making you feel safe and cherished. His love is warm and steady, like the foundation of a home.

“You’ve got nothing to be insecure about,” he says, pulling you into a bear hug. “You’re perfect to me, just the way you are.”

Vander has a way of making you feel loved through his actions. He’ll cook your favorite meals, leave little notes of encouragement, and hold you close whenever you need reassurance. “You’ve got a heart bigger than anyone I’ve ever met,” he tells you, his voice full of pride. “And that’s what matters.”

When you’re feeling down, Vander’s the first to remind you of your worth. “The world’s tough enough without you being hard on yourself,” he says gently. “Let me worry about keeping you safe, and you just focus on being the amazing person you already are.”

All of these characters love you for who you are, making it clear that your worth goes far beyond appearances. Whether it’s through words, actions, or unwavering support, they remind you every day just how loved and cherished you are.

[featheredenby]

Mycelium

“Hotguy coughs a bit, “It’s a long story.”

“Not really” The Mayor says while rolling her eyes, “The Red Witch got Cuteguy possessed by a mushroom. Again.” She explains.

“Oh jeez,” Shelby exclaims, “Not again, let's get you guys inside.” She leads the others into her house through the rain where she explains the situation to Shrub and Katherine.”

Written by FeatheredEnby

Word Count: 1,857

Part Thirteen of: Show Your Fangs

Read On Ao3

A Superhero AU of Empires SMP/Hermitcraft/The Life Series

Lizzie climbs up the fire escape on an apartment building in her new and improved vigilante outfit. She reaches the top of the building and climbs onto the roof, she pushes herself into a standing position and sees someone flying around the city towards the GFHA headquarters. “Weird…”

She starts heading over to the building and sees someone darting through the alley way below her. She dashes over to the edge of the roof and uses the glider sewed into her outfit to get down safely. Quietly landing on the ground next to the person she takes in their details. White hair, red and black sweater, light green overalls, a deer mutant, holding a staff so they’re likely a witch. These features all feel very familiar, she lightly places her hand on the person's shoulder. Since they’re an animal mutant there’s a chance that Lizzie could read their mind. Within a second they see who this person is, “Hi Gem!” Lizzie shouts.

Gem jumps and screams something that Lizzie doesn't catch however she does end up frozen in place. Just work your way out of it, she just has to figure out a solution. Her mind control powers could work but she’s frozen and can’t do anything. Gem looks down at her, “How do you know who I am?” Lizzie rolls her eyes as if to say she can’t talk, “Right…” Gem says and releases the spell.

Lizzie looks at her, “My one power is mind controlling animal mutants and hybrids, and to some extent if I get close enough to them I can read their minds. So,” she explains, “I essentially was able to tell that you’re Gem, or as you’re currently calling yourself, Slay.”

“Okay…”

“So,” asks another person from a nearby roof, “What exactly are you two doing out tonight?” Lizzie looks up and sees The Time Witch standing on the roof with their wand in hand.

“I saw someone flying to the GFHA headquarters while on patrol,” she says, “I was going to go check it out but then I found Gem.”

Gem glares at Lizzie, “Stop revealing my secret identity!” She yells, “that’s private information.” 

Lizzie giggles, “No.” 

The Time Witch sighs, “Good to know who you two are, by the way have either of you guys seen The Red Witch?” 

Lizzie shakes her head while Gem nods. “I’m out tonight because I’m pretty sure she’s trying to infect Cuteguy with her weird mushroom again…” she sighs,”I- I know who she is…”

“I was gonna debut as the newest hero soon when we got her in custody. I had Hotguy leave the room and I questioned her but then she stopped answering… I used a spell to make her tell me the truth… when I removed it she broke out of her prison and I got a nasty cut on the forehead…”

“I wasn’t happy with what I’d done so I stitched myself up and used a spell to remove myself from the GFHA database, and to learn who the others are-“ Her next words can’t be heard over the sound of an explosion in the distance.

-

The Red Witch lunges at Cuteguy while throwing off an avian who keeps cursing at her. Behind them Mycelium frantically tries to put together a mushroom spell while Psudoshroom and Story hold off Lazy Cat and Bard, who just arrived at the scene. Cuteguy tumbles out of the way and Scar stands in a dark corner watching. He doesn’t quite understand what’s happening, he’d just been outside getting some fresh air when Cuteguy had shown up to talk to him but then they got stuck in mycelium together and the next thing he knows The Red Witch shows up.

In his panic he’d ended up standing as still as possible in a corner. He tentatively pulls out his bow and starts firing arrows at The Red Witch, out of the corner of his eye Scar sees an avian land on a nearby roof and starts firing their own arrows at Mycelium and Psudoshroom. He watches as one of the arrows pierces Mycelium’s shoulder and they slump to the ground. Soon after,  Psudoshroom sweeps Lazy Cat’s legs from under them and tires them down with mycelium threads.

Scar turns his attention back to The Red Witch and Cuteguy who dodges a blow from the witch and ducks even lowers as the mushroom spell thing is thrown to The Red Witch and lands in her hands. Scar realizes what’s going to happen and fires a regular arrow through one of The Red Witch’s wings. He runs over to Cuteguy and frantically tells him that they need to leave. Cuteguy holds onto Scar and flies them both down into the alley between two random buildings where they see three people dash away into the distance.

Scar stares at the avian in front of him as his ears tune out the sounds of the battle on the roof next to them, “Cuteguy are you okay.”

The man nods slowly, “I’ll be fine… Hotguy there’s something I need to tell you.”

He nods frantically but doesn’t really pay attention, “Yep! Yep, yep, yep, yep, yep! I’m sure it’s important but it can probably wait till later!”

Cuteguy shakes his head, “It really can’t, I- Hotguy you need to know that-“ He’s cut off as a pouch of mushroom and herbs hits his back and he collapses onto the brickwork ground. Scar leans down to try and help while The Red Witch sits and watches it unfold. Cuteguy looks at Scar directly in the eyes, clearly afraid. “I think we both know what this is gonna do…” he says, “You know when I first heard about you I hated your guts, you’re not too bad though.”

Cuteguy grasps Scar’s wrist, “When you were at the Arian Griandae concert I saw you… I feel bad admitting it like this but I know your identity…” he turns and watches mycelium crawl out of the small bagged spell and drops Scar’s hand, “Run Scar…” it spreads further, “Run Scar! Scar run.” So he does, Scar runs away to the only place he thinks can deal with the mushroom spell to the only other witch he knows the location of. Into the woods and to Shelby’s house. He doesn’t look back.

-

Shelby walks off the well trodden path through the woods she lives in with her sister and girlfriend, she has to find the cave that leads into the mines where the moss in the vial she holds in her purse originated. She’s been doing some tests, sure she’s a witch but science and magic aren’t that different when it comes to basic theory. Her boots slosh in the mud that starts getting thicker and covering more ground the closer she gets to the clearing where the caves start. She’s going to be out for a while, at least four hours if she had to guess, after all the caves go on for hundreds of miles underground. She rounds a clump of trees expecting to be in the clearing but instead finds that the area which used to be a sunny glade is overgrown with giant mushrooms of all types and infested with chickens, Okay that’s odd.

Shelby pulls her scarf over her mouth and nose and pushes through the fungi. When she reaches the entrance of the cave she sees that it's completely blocked with a thick layer of mycelium threads. She pulls out her wand and aims it at the fungal threads, “ᒷ ̇/!¡ꖎ𝙹ᓭ╎𝙹リ! ʖ𝙹𝙹ᒲ!” The threads are blasted to bits and she steps through the flaming remains and into the cave. Cool air hits her face along with a large number of tiny spores. She walks through the cave system, keeping track of where she’s been with a glowing paint line on the wall. 

Eventually the witch ends up at a deepslate gate with a glowing carving of a warden in the center. She pulls out her spellbook and flips to a page on skulk which includes how to enter the ancient cities. Shelby shakes her wand while muttering a spell and it lights up so she can read a part of the passage, “In order to enter the an ancient city insert whatever you use to cast spells into the slot at the center of the gate and cast the spell ‘tenebris aperire’ in enchanter.” She breathes out and starts humming while putting the book away.

Shelby ends the light spell on her wand and slides it into the center of the gate she closes her eyes, “ℸ ̣ ᒷリᒷʖ∷╎ᓭ ᔑ!¡ᒷ∷╎∷ᒷ.” The witch opens her eyes and pulls her wand back right before it would have been broken by the retracting doors. In front of her lies a nearly pitchblack expanse with the shimmering skulk covering the floor and most of the walls. In the distance she can see deepslate buildings rising in front of an ancient portal. She isn’t here for any of that, all she needs is a tiny bit of the strange moss that grows this deep down. She pulls a small vial and an exacto-knife out of her bag and scrapes off a small amount of skulk which she deposits in the vial. She places it in the bag and quietly walks out of the deep dark, closing it off with a spell. 

The witch walks back up through the cave system erasing the line that she’d placed on the wall as she goes. When she reaches the upper levels she can hear rain drumming through the forest. Shebly reenters the main cave and sees the rain coming down through the mushrooms and picking up the spores as it does. She walks to the edge of the cave and holds her wand up to the sky, “⚍ᒲʖ∷ᒷꖎꖎᔑ.” A canopy shoots up and out of it shielding her from the rain that manages to get through the forest canopy. Shelby sloshes through the high mud which soaks her socks as it lands in her boots.

She walks for a little while and can see the lights from her house. As she walks up to it she sees someone in the woods a few feet outside of the opposite side of the clearing. She walks to the other side of the clearing and the person backs up, “Who’s there?” Shelby waves her wand through the air, “ᓭ⍑𝙹∴ ||𝙹⚍∷ᓭᒷꖎ⎓.” Out of the woods emerges a beaten and very shaken up Hotguy along with The Mayor, Slay, and The Time Witch. “What the-” the witch runs over to the group and raises her wand into the air again, “ʖ╎⊣⊣ᒷ∷ ⚍ᒲʖ∷ᒷꖎꖎᔑ.” An even larger canopy covers the group and Shelby looks at them with confusion. “What happened to you guys?”

Hotguy coughs a bit, “It’s a long story.”

“Not really” The Mayor says while rolling her eyes, “The Red Witch got Cuteguy possessed by a mushroom. Again.” She explains.

“Oh jeez,” Shelby exclaims, “Not again, let's get you guys inside.” She leads the others into her house through the rain where she explains the situation to Shrub and Katherine.