#ALSO he was on the floor i moved him to a box and left him outside for a long time but he didnt fly away :( so i think he is either weak or

[airosuiren]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔰 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔊𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔞𝔱𝔢

A/N: You ever watch people climb a ladder you built with your own blood? That’s this chapter. [Y/N] and Karma aren’t chasing applause. They’re the shadows behind the stage, the hand that pushes the scalpel deeper when justice needs to hurt. The world sees students. The staff sees assets. The other students? They don’t know what they’re looking at anymore—and that’s exactly the point. This chapter is about walking into enemy territory with a smile on your lips, a knife in your belt, and a partner at your side who never blinks when you burn too hot. You’re not here to fit in. You’re here to outlast everyone who doubted you.

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 1, 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 2, 𝔖𝔦𝔡𝔢 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯

The transition from operatives-in-training to full-fledged agents should have been jarring. But for [Y/N] Midoriya and Karma Akabane, it felt more like slipping into clothes they had long since outgrown.

They were already killers. Already protectors. Already unshakable.

Now, they were official.

And that changed everything.

Their new assignment came with increased freedom—and increased danger. No more hand-holding. No more simulated threats.

Kasuma called them in one final time for a private briefing.

“You’re not children anymore,” he repeated, like a mantra. “You’re ghost agents. Assets. The moment you step into this, you belong to no one and serve only the mission.”

He paused, then looked at them—not the badges on their jackets, not the files they held.

Them.

“I’m proud of you both,” he said quietly.

[Y/N] felt something tight twist in her chest. She nodded. Karma smiled, just barely.

That was the last time they saw Kasuma for a while.

He left for an overseas operation that would last months, taking Irina with him. He gave them a contact in Tokyo and warned them: Stay sharp. UA might need you sooner than expected.

They didn’t know then just how right he was.

In the weeks that followed, Karma and [Y/N] established a base in a small apartment on the edge of the city.

They weren’t exactly living undercover, but they also weren’t public heroes. They moved through the world like ghosts, slipping between crowded alleys and rooftops, collecting information and building networks.

Their targets weren’t low-level thugs anymore.

They were watching names whispered in fear:

People tied to the League of Villains.

Underground arms dealers.

Corrupt businessmen sponsoring bio-enhanced quirk tech.

Karma enjoyed the tension.

[Y/N] thrived on the structure.

They operated like one mind in two bodies—flawless coordination, unspoken cues.

And slowly, as nights turned into weeks and weeks into months, their bond deepened.

They didn’t talk about it.

Not directly.

But it was there in the quiet things:

The way Karma always saved her the last strawberry milk in the fridge. The way [Y/N] always patched up his wounds before her own. The way they gravitated toward each other when things were too loud, too heavy, too real.

It was natural. Unspoken. And undeniable.

One night, after a long mission that ended in fire and fractured ribs, they collapsed on their apartment floor, bruised and breathless.

Karma’s shirt was torn. [Y/N] had blood on her knuckles.

She lay on the floor, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“You ever think,” she said quietly, “that we’re the only ones who get it?”

Karma was silent for a beat.

Then: “Every day.”

She turned her head. He was already looking at her.

The moment stretched long and quiet.

Then Karma reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

[Y/N] blinked.

“You didn’t,” she said, trying to sit up.

He opened it.

Inside was a ring. Silver. Clean. A thin band etched with a symbol only they understood: a flame crossed by lightning.

“It’s not what you think,” Karma said quickly, ears turning red. “It’s not… I mean, not yet. It’s just…”

She took it before he could finish.

Slid it onto her finger.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered.

And that night, for the first time, they didn’t sleep in separate beds.

Not for sex. Not for comfort.

Just to be close.

To know they were real.

To remember they were alive.

Their next mission came sooner than expected.

A deep investigation into a string of disappearances tied to illegal quirk experimentation.

They found a lab buried beneath a seemingly abandoned hospital.

What they discovered made even Karma’s cocky grin fade.

Children.

Dozens.

Hooked to machines, wired for data extraction.

[Y/N] nearly vomited. Karma stood frozen.

And then they moved.

The operation burned that night.

[Y/N] created a dome of air to shield the children. Karma melted the power grids and iced every escape route.

The scientists didn’t escape.

Neither did the armed guards.

The media was never alerted.

The story never made headlines.

But the kids lived.

That was enough.

They spent a week off-grid after that.

Recovery. Sleep. Therapy in the form of video games, bad takeout, and long walks along empty rooftops.

[Y/N] didn’t cry. Karma didn’t joke.

They just existed. Together.

It was during that quiet week that the second kiss happened.

The first had been months ago. A heat-of-the-moment adrenaline spark after a close-call mission.

But this one…

They were sitting on the apartment balcony.

Karma said something stupid. [Y/N] laughed.

He turned to look at her. She turned at the same time.

Their eyes met.

And suddenly, it wasn’t a question.

It was inevitable.

He leaned in. She met him halfway.

Soft. Slow. Real.

When they broke apart, Karma pressed their foreheads together.

“Don’t leave,” he said quietly.

[Y/N] smiled.

“I never do.”

They didn’t define it. Didn’t label it. Didn’t need to.

It was theirs.

And that was enough.

By the end of the month, they were called in for a special briefing.

Kasuma, back from his mission, met them at a secure facility.

“You’re going to U.A.,” he said, without preamble.

[Y/N] blinked.

“What?” Karma said.

“You’re not enrolling as students,” Kasuma clarified. “You’ll be embedded. Posing as transfers, but you’re there as internal operatives.”

[Y/N] folded her arms. “Why us?”

Kasuma looked at her evenly. “Because I trust you. Because you’re smart. Because you’re powerful. Because if anyone can keep that place from collapsing, it’s you two.”

Karma raised an eyebrow. “You’re not worried we’ll… y’know… start chaos?”

Kasuma smiled faintly. “I’m counting on it.”

He handed over two sealed envelopes.

“Inside are your contracts. Your permissions. Your mission parameters. Don’t lose them.”

They didn’t.

The night before they left, [Y/N] and Karma stood on the rooftop of their building, looking out over Tokyo.

“It’s going to be different,” [Y/N] said.

Karma nodded.

“We’re going back to being students,” she added.

Karma snorted. “Sort of.”

She turned to him.

“What if they hate us?”

He shrugged. “Then we make them wish they didn’t.”

[Y/N] laughed.

“You’re terrifying,” she said.

Karma leaned closer.

“I’m yours.”

And she kissed him.

Under the stars.

Bonds forged in fire. In blood. In quiet promises and loud declarations.

Unbreakable. Unshakable.

The world had no idea what was coming.

But it would learn.

Because [Y/N] Midoriya and Karma Akabane were no one’s background characters.

They were the storm.

And they were heading straight for U.A.

U.A. High School was louder than she remembered.

[Y/N] Midoriya stood in front of the dorm building, one box levitating behind her as she used a casual breeze to float it into her hands. Her other arm was looped through Katsuki Bakugou’s as she babbled happily about the dorm arrangements, the bland uniforms, and the god-awful lighting in the girls’ bathrooms.

Katsuki Bakugou carried the heavier boxes with minimal complaint. Not because he was kind. Because he knew better than to let her get bored.

“Can’t believe they’re making you set up alone,” he muttered.

“Oh, I’m never alone, Kats,” she chirped, skipping ahead as her wind quirk lifted a box through the air behind them. “I’ve got voices. And glass. And you.”

“...I’m not comforted by that.”

“I didn’t say you were. I said I am.”

“Seriously, Kats,” she said in a sing-song voice, “I think the hallways are actually designed to suck the soul out of people. Like, one big soul Hoover.”

Bakugou grunted. “You’re just pissed there’s no pink tile.”

“I ASKED for lavender. That’s not unreasonable.”

He didn’t reply, but she caught the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

From a distance, Class 1-A watched the interaction with a mixture of fascination and suspicion.

Bakugou? Willingly letting someone talk his ear off? Letting them touch him? Letting them use him as a moving wall to carry her dumbass decorations for her room?

It was chaos.

And then she turned.

Bright green eyes landed on the gathered students with that same cheerful gleam—too bright, too wide, like a neon sign that flickered too much.

“Hiya, Class 1-A!” she chirped, twirling once as her hair fluttered in the wind she summoned. “I’m [Y/N] Midoriya! Twin sister of your very own Izuku~!”

The silence hit like a slap.

All eyes turned to Izuku.

He turned pale.

“You never said you had a sister,” Uraraka said quietly.

Izuku swallowed. “I-I didn’t think it was important.”

Ouch.

[Y/N] grinned wider.

“Oh, don’t worry, Deku,” she said sweetly, floating a small wind-blown leaf onto his head. “It’s not like I’ve been alive this whole time or anything.”

Bakugou snorted. Kaminari blinked. Todoroki tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

“She’s quirkless, right?” Sero asked.

“NOPE!” [Y/N] beamed, hands on hips. “Got mine before Izuku even knew what a quirk was. But I kept it a secret to make him feel better.”

Another silence.

Izuku looked like he was going to pass out.

“That’s… insane,” Momo said cautiously.

[Y/N] cocked her head. “Awww, thanks! I try.”

Bakugou stood beside her, arms crossed, and for once, he looked smug.

“Don’t try to figure her out,” he said dryly. “You’ll go nuts before she does.”

Aizawa called her in that afternoon for a quick assessment.

“You know the rule,” he said. “Sparring introduction. You’ll be matched with Todoroki.”

“Oh, Todoroki~?” [Y/N] sang, clapping. “The one with fire and ice? Cute.”

Izuku stood immediately. “She’s too unstable. She shouldn’t—”

A gust of wind slammed him back into his chair.

“Oopsies,” [Y/N] said, not looking at him. “I twitch sometimes.”

Aizawa sighed deeply and waved her toward the arena.

The match lasted three minutes.

Todoroki opened with ice.

[Y/N] melted it mid-air with a snap of her fingers.

He followed with fire.

She swallowed it with a vortex and spit it back at him in a wave of scalding steam.

Then she surrounded him in a prison of rock and danced just out of reach, laughing.

No quirks, no weapons, no tricks—just raw elemental dominance wrapped in a pink ribbon of madness.

When it ended, Todoroki stared at the ground, humiliated.

[Y/N] patted his shoulder.

“You’re very pretty when you’re confused,” she said sweetly. “Like a sad puppy who forgot where the door is.”

The class stared at her like she was a ticking bomb.

Later that evening, Izuku cornered her in the hallway.

“You humiliated me,” he hissed.

[Y/N] smiled like sunshine. “Did I?”

“You told everyone about your quirk. You—”

“I pretended to be quirkless for you,” she said brightly. “Because you were crying. Because Mom hit me when I tried to say I had powers. Because she said it would ‘hurt you.’ So I waited. And waited. And then you got powers and didn’t even tell me.”

He flinched.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

That made her laugh.

Not a soft giggle.

A high, wild laugh that echoed through the dorm halls.

“I don’t care,” she said, still laughing. “You’re just not my brother anymore. You’re a guy I used to know. Now I’ve got a best friend who actually likes me and a boyfriend who brings me strawberry milk.”

She walked away without looking back.

Katsuki was waiting by the dorms. He gave her a once-over and passed her a soda.

“Deku crying again?”

“Always.”

She popped the can open with a flick of ice and grinned.

The next week, Karma arrived.

He walked into Class 1-A like he owned it, two buttons undone, blazer flapping, strawberry milk in hand.

Iida tried to lecture him.

Karma tossed the empty milk carton into his chest and kept walking.

[Y/N] launched herself at him. They kissed in front of everyone.

The room combusted.

Iida screamed about propriety. Kaminari short-circuited. Mineta nosebled and passed out.

Only Bakugou rolled his eyes and muttered, “Took long enough.”

Karma grinned. “[Y/N] missed me so bad she almost burned a building down.”

“I only set the bathroom on fire,” [Y/N] huffed. “That doesn’t count.”

“Hi,” Karma said to the class, slipping an arm around her waist. “I’m Karma. I like strawberry milk, chaos, and her. Try to touch her, and I’ll break your kneecaps with a smile.”

Uraraka stepped back. Even Todoroki seemed uneasy.

Izuku looked like he was going to explode.

From that point on, Class 1-A gave them space.

[Y/N] dragged Bakugou around, repainted his room lavender, stuck googly eyes on his grenadier gauntlets, and kept calling him “BoomBoom BFF.”

Bakugou let her.

The Baku Squad hated it.

The Deku Squad hated her.

The rest kept their distance.

Aizawa didn’t bother interfering.

“You’re not here to make friends,” he muttered during homeroom.

“Nope!” [Y/N] replied cheerfully, balancing a pencil on her nose. “I’m here to make trauma fashionable.”

He stared at her. Marked her present. Moved on.

At night, she slept in Karma’s dorm. They curled under too many blankets, whispered about strategy, giggled at dumb inside jokes, and practiced hand-to-hand in the common room after hours.

They were chaos wrapped in chemistry.

And U.A. didn’t know what to do with them.

[Y/N] didn’t need approval. Didn’t crave love from people who once ignored her existence.

She had Karma. She had Katsuki. She had her own strength.

And that was more than enough.

Because the girl who had once stayed silent had found her voice.

And it was cheerful.

It was twisted.

It was absolutely, unapologetically psychotic.

And she loved it.

[Y/N] Midoriya liked her new dorm.

Mostly because she didn’t actually stay in it.

Her official dorm was neat, full of sparkly figurines, mood lighting, and a whiteboard of unfinished elemental theories. But her real home? That was Karma’s room, where the walls smelled faintly of cherry detergent and strawberry milk.

Sleeping there was normal. Comforting. Strategic.

Until Principal Nezu decided to “reassess arrangements.”

“You’ll be placed in separate dorms permanently,” Nezu said, paws folded neatly on his desk. “We believe it’s for the best.”

[Y/N] blinked. “Best for who?”

“For the morale of Class 1-A. For appearances. You understand.”

She smiled. Too wide. Too sweet.

“Oh, I understand just fine,” she said in a singsong tone. “And I’m telling you very gently, Nezu-san… fix it before Karma comes back from his mission. Or you’ll be the one applying emergency morale patches.”

Karma had been called to Tokyo. She, on the other hand, was given one job: get comfortable. That was laughable. Comfort and U.A. didn’t mix, not after everything she’d heard and seen.

Aizawa, who had been silent up to this point, exhaled slowly. “She’s not bluffing.”

Nezu chuckled nervously. “We’ll consider it.”

They didn’t.

So she waited.

The day Karma returned from Tokyo, he didn’t enter U.A. like a normal person.

He kicked the door open.

Strawberry milk in one hand, dorm key in the other, blazer tied around his waist.

[Y/N] launched into his arms before the dust settled.

“You smell like fire and deadlines,” she murmured against his collar.

“And you smell like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I haven’t. I threatened a rodent.”

“Good girl.”

“You’re saying what now?” Karma asked later that night, tilting his head as [Y/N] ranted, pacing in a circle in their shared—secret—study room.

“They want us in separate dorms, Karma. Like they forgot the clause in our contract that literally says we operate as a team unit and we share living quarters for control and coordination. They said it might ‘make other students uncomfortable.’”

Karma rolled a coin between his fingers. “What’s our authority level again?”

“Above theirs,” [Y/N] said sweetly.

“Neat. Let’s burn the paperwork.”

“Nope. Better idea. We’ll let Aizawa do the talking. Then we’ll make friends with the support course. I want to build a thermal-proof ‘Do Not Disturb’ field around our dorm.”

He smirked. “You’re adorable when you’re scheming.”

“You’re hot when you’re complicit.”

Aizawa held an emergency meeting with the faculty.

“They have security clearance higher than half of Japan’s military. I don’t care if it makes Mineta nervous. Let them share a room or deal with the fallout.”

Principal Nezu reluctantly agreed.

“Very well. But we announce it.”

“Effective immediately,” Aizawa said flatly the next morning, “Karma Akabane and [Y/N] Midoriya will be rooming together. This has been authorized and approved. No discussion.”

There was so much discussion.

“THAT’S NOT FAIR!” Mineta cried.

“She sleeps in his T-shirt!” Kaminari shouted.

“Why do they get to act like royalty?” Iida barked.

“Because we are,” Karma said with a smile.

[Y/N] sat beside him, swirling a tiny tornado in her teacup. “We’re not normal students. We’re contractors. You remember the part where I folded Todoroki like a beach towel, right?”

Todoroki raised a hand. “I’m not part of this conversation.”

Uraraka’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re just above us now?”

“No,” [Y/N] said, licking her spoon. “We’re beneath you. Like ghosts. That protect you while you sleep. Or choose not to. Depending on how annoying you are.”

Silence.

Behind the scenes, things were moving fast.

The League of Villains had made three indirect attacks in a month.

U.A. needed insurance.

[Y/N] and Karma weren’t just students.

They were insurance with trigger-happy smiles.

Their official mission briefing, written by Kasuma himself, was clear:

Maintain cover as elite student transfers. Monitor League movement. Neutralize threats. Protect critical assets.

In short: babysit the hero children. Eliminate anyone who tried to hurt them.

It was a mess.

And they were perfect for it.

Karma adjusted quickly. He got along with some of the Baku Squad when they weren’t acting like territorial cats.

[Y/N] continued to rub everyone the wrong way.

“Why do you only talk to Bakugou?” Jirou asked one afternoon.

“Because BoomBoom is the only one who doesn’t flinch when I touch a blade.”

“You used wind to send Sato’s cake into the ceiling.”

“Poor structural integrity.”

“You set Iida’s notes on fire.”

“They were boring.”

“You replaced my shampoo with glitter.”

“That one was Karma, actually.”

“TRAITOR!” Karma called from the common room.

Despite the chaos, the missions kept coming.

Small ones at first.

Interventions off-campus.

Scouting dangerous areas.

U.A. didn’t announce it, but the staff all knew who to call when the police were too slow.

[Y/N] and Karma answered every time.

No fanfare.

No reports.

Just results.

One night, they got called to intercept a rogue bio-enhanced villain on the edge of Musutafu.

Aizawa handed them the file.

“He’s armed, unstable, and strong. Try to de-escalate. But if he throws the first punch—”

“He’s done,” Karma said, slipping on his gloves.

[Y/N] grinned. “Got it. Dinner after?”

“I’m thinking noodles.”

“Spicy?”

“You read my mind.”

They were gone in seconds.

Thirty minutes later, the villain was unconscious, tied to a lamp post, with a sticky note on his forehead that read:

‘Try again never.’ –The Ghosts of U.A.

Back at school, things grew tenser.

Izuku cornered [Y/N] one morning.

“We should talk,” he said, hesitant.

“We just did,” she replied.

“Seriously. I want to understand.”

“Now you want to understand?”

“I didn’t know how much I hurt you.”

She stopped.

Looked at him.

Then leaned in close.

“You hurt me a lot, Izuku. But I’m over it. I’m not angry anymore. I just don’t trust you. That’s different.”

He swallowed hard.

“But maybe one day,” she added with a sad smile, “we’ll be family again. If you earn it.”

And she walked away.

At night, she sat on the rooftop with Karma, twirling a spark of light between her fingers.

“They’re starting to hate us more,” she said.

“They’re starting to fear us more,” he corrected.

“Same thing.”

Karma shrugged. “Let them. We’re not here to win a popularity contest.”

She sighed. “No. We’re here to keep them alive.”

“And we will.”

She looked over at him.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

He leaned over, kissed her forehead.

“Always.”

They sat in silence.

The two bodyguards of U.A.

Invisible to most.

Essential to all.

A/N: They never wanted her power. They just didn’t want her to use it. Now? Too late. [Y/N] Midoriya isn’t just strong—she’s untouchable. Karma’s not just her match—he’s her mirror. Together, they aren’t classmates. They’re contingency plans. You don’t have to like them. You just have to survive long enough to realize you needed them. The ghosts are watching. And they don’t miss.

— Author, absolutely unwell over rooftop kisses, sibling detachment arcs, and U.A. accidentally housing its own secret endgame duo.

Taglist: @feral-childs-word, @trashlanternfish360, @astro-girly1, @suneaterscape, @thatcatladywrites, @arislia, @kittzu, @ottjhe, @tinybrie, @wpdarlingpan, @ryuushou, @simpingpandas, @lettucel0ver, @moonxmio, @sirenetheblogger, @xzmickeyzx, @ironsaladwitch, @lithiumval, @starsdotalk, @fortunatelydifferentqueen, @ocean-mochi, @bunniotomia, @sept3mberchild, @sweetheart4you, @mayhem-k

Let me know if I missed anyone

[synthbug]

SAVED AN ATLAS MOTH IN SINGAPORE !!! IM SO HAPPYY I FINALLY SAW ONE IRL !!!

SUCH A COOL BEAST!! SHE IS ALIVE AND VERY POLITE :3 tho I feel she is probably nearing the end of her adult life since she looked pretty weak(and they can't eat, no mouth) , but i have faith she had a good run as an adult and i am so glad I got to see such a rare sight here in Singapore :]]] 🩵🦋🇸🇬

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

Anyway rewatching the angels of death anime and I just noticed both of Danny's eyes dilate even though he has one glass eye

[endursent]

My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (2)

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , slight shenanigans , gn!reader 】

【 characters; alhaitham , arataki itto , baizhu , cyno , dainsleif , diluc , kaedehara kazuha , kaeya , kamisato ayato , kaveh , neuvillette , tartaglia , thoma , venti , wanderer , wriothesley , xiao , zhongli 】

【 premise; " Your partner has been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned him into a cat, you have no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet you also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; made the genshin version... no reason for this to be like 19 pages 😭 】

【 word count; 8.723 | read on ao3 | hsr ver | hsr reader ver | gi reader ver 】

Alhaitham ;

Kaveh gaped at you when you brought a cat into the house, one that… looked eerily similar to a certain blockhead. “I can explain,” you say as you set the cat down on the floor, he doesn’t enter the house further than you do, instead sitting down by your feet and observing the interaction with… interest? Amusement…? 

  Kaveh didn’t need much to be convinced, and immediately he thanked the Archons for giving him a few days of respite. Even just a few days of Alhaitham being unable to comment on what he does or nag him is a blessing.

  For you, it’s a bit of a hassle… because he keeps disappearing! Not in an alarming way, because you find him again in the most secluded, quiet spots you would never even think of. Under your laundry, in an empty box that Kaveh hadn’t put away after getting a delivery, and even under the desk in the study—Kaveh accidentally kicked him and got a feisty scratch on his ankle. He learned his lesson. 

  He follows you around and—though he let you pick him up the first time—doesn’t let you carry him around, preferring to walk on his own… and wander off to explore nooks and crannies he has never been able to see, but he always shows up again before you reach your destination. 

  He has also claimed your pillow as his own and refuses to let you use it, loafing on top of it exactly when you thought you could get there before him. Which… in hindsight is fine, you’re not opposed to using his pillow, it smells like him after all. 

  You decided to test how much of a cat he really is, whether it’s appearance alone or instinctual as well and bought a cat toy with a whisker on the end as well as a small bell below it. You expected him to perk up and try to whack or catch it as soon as you wriggled it beside him… but his grey furred ears just lowered in annoyance and he hopped off the kitchen counter, it seems like having even more sensitive ears in this state makes his dislike for uncomfortable noises more intense. 

  He forgave you when you spent ten minutes scratching the itchy spot behind his ears after tracking him down. A small, rumbling purr left his chest as you moved your hand to scratch under his chin—he was, however, more curious about this instinctual reaction and demanded you continue after you drew your hand back.     Despite it being very much an unspoken rule between the two of you that neither of you should be disturbed ‘needlessly’ when reading or working at home, when you borrowed a few books from the Akademiya to try and figure out how to turn your partner back to normal, Alhaitham decided it would be very reasonable for him to lay down over your book… which you are very much trying to read.

  But when you ask him what he needs, he just blinks at you three times, very slowly. You’ll likely never be able to crack that brain of his, even in a form that is somehow far more expressive.

Arataki Itto ;

It’s difficult enough to keep track of him—and keep him out of trouble—on a normal day… now? You took your eyes off him for a second, and he’s gone. Shinobu split up with you to cover more ground while the rest of the gang scoured the streets of Inazuma City, at least as much as they could.

  You peek between baskets, crates and stalls, walk through tight alleys and even squint into a few windows… nothing!

  You had been very close to giving up and returning back to the meeting point by the bridge… until you heard a very distressed, very loud meowing. Following the sound, you come to a tree stretching over the gardens of a teahouse. What looks to be the owner of it stands below the tree with a basket, trying to ask Itto—stuck up on a wobbling branch—to jump into it.

  Exasperation is one way to describe what you feel as you approach the old lady, you put your hands on your hips and Itto notices you immediately. His meowing turns from frantic and panicked… to a sheepish pleading. Every movement he makes causes the branch to sway and wobble, and it looks like it could easily bend and break—and you don’t want to cause any trouble for the teahouse owner. “Itto, come on, hop down.”

  He meows and shakes his head, white fur swishing dramatically. 

  A sigh leaves you as you step closer and hold your arms open. “I’ll catch you, trust me,” you encourage him… and he finally relents, with wobbling paws, he leaps from the branch—fur shining in the sun as he practically flies in the air towards your open arms… and lands on your head. He panics and tries to adjust and not fall off, and you try to pry him away from your face as his belly nearly suffocates you—it’s a scene from a comedic play.

  Shinobu is glad for her mask, because when you return with Itto under your arm you have scratches on your face and forehead, and Itto is whining and meowing sorrowfully. 

  He spends the entire evening licking your ‘wounds’, dragging his coarse cat tongue over every spot so often that the licking starts to become more painful than the scratches themselves. But you let him, it makes him feel much better than you—and you don’t particularly need comfort, but if he doesn’t get it, he will whine all night. 

  So you let him knead your thighs and stomach even as his claws prick through your clothes and you make sure to pet him and stroke his fur when he snuggles against you… and then you wake up in the middle of the night, suffocating with his furred belly against your face when the lies on top of you.

Baizhu ;

You’re very happy that Baizhu is catching a break—something you often try to convince him to do—despite the strange way of being forced into it… however, it’s very difficult to focus on running the pharmacy in his place by yourself while also trying to make sure he doesn’t roll off the shelf he’s napping on… especially because Changsheng wriggles in her sleep and keeps nudging him closer to the edge.

  You decide it’s easier if you have them sleeping on separate surfaces and reach up to pick up your pliant partner-turned-cat. He effectively falls into your arms and blinks lazily, slightly confused by the sudden transport. “Just moving you so you don’t hit your head,” you dodge around Qiqi as she runs past you with an armful of jars and set Baizhu down on the counter, his tail sways lazily and he immediately flops on his side as a beam of sunlight sneaks through the window and directly onto his fur.

  Every time a customer comes by—with approval—they give Baizhu a small pet or scratch before leaving, as if paying tribute to the good doctor. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  Unfortunately, you’re not fit to take Baizhu’s place for consultations, and thus they all get delayed—which was a hell of a lot of work to contact everyone and change scheduling—until Baizhu is back to normal. The usual hours of consultation in the morning are therefore replaced with longer opening hours of the pharmacy and by pulling some strings, an increased stock of rarer products at a discounted price. 

  Changsheng does not let poor Baizhu catch a break, she wiggles her tail and swipes it in front of his paws, and unable to control the feline instincts harbouring his body—Baizhu chases after her tail like a kitten playing with a toy. He whacks at it and tries to capture it, but the white snake is far quicker than even you expected her to be as a sudden game of cat and mouse (snake) takes over your living room.

 The feline form, however, doesn’t come with free stamina—and Baizhu is not in good shape. He flops down on the carpet, exhausted from the play even as only seven minutes have passed. You feel a bit bad and scoop him up for some cuddling, which seems to be just the remedy he needed. 

  Baizhu is very careful around the clinic, he doesn’t knock anything over—even though he REALLY wants to sometimes, and is mindful of not getting fur or saliva on anything that could potentially be consumed by anyone with allergies. Changsheng has taken to wrapping herself around your shoulders instead, and though you’re used to her, it’s a little annoying to get a comment on every little thing you do. 

  But at the end of the day, Baizhu curls up next to you and you wake with him lying over your chest, belly to the skies and paws in the air, comfortable and content. Though you will always prefer him in his normal state, he is very cute like this.

Cyno ;

You look around the large front hall of the House of Daena, panting slightly as you try to catch your breath… that damn Cyno! Making you chase him across the entire city! 

  You spot some pawprints and squint as you look around… he’s not bringing all that dirt into the house—you were just going to rinse him a bit, but he’s run off! You finally spot dark and creamy coloured fur… perched up high on a massive decorative piece of the wall. He looks down at you with a swaying tail, completely at ease knowing that you won’t be able to catch him all the way up there.

  You almost consider inquiring about one of those massive ladders the library has to reach the high shelves, it might be long enough…

  But very well, he wins this round. 

  Once he turned into a cat, you were very excited about petting him, rubbing his ears and stroking his tail—but he’s not having any of it. Sometimes, you wonder if someone stuck a firework in his ass and lit it up, because the bouts of zoomies he gets is so frequent you wondered if there was something wrong—but you couldn’t catch him to take to a vet either! 

  After the first few days, Cyno seems to calm down… a little. He still prefers to survey the area (your living room) from above (your bookshelf) and watch you go about your day. It’s quite cute how his perked ears twitch every time you make a noise, as if he’s completely focused on what you’re doing.

  You soon find out after stepping a bit too close to the bookshelf that he might have just been waiting to strike, because he leaps onto your head as soon as you’re in range. 

  The only reason you know he’s fully conscious in that furred head is because while you were cleaning up after dinner, you spotted him sitting next to a cup of tea that was half-filled. You tense as you watch his paw raise to knock it off. “Cyno! Don’t,” you try to sound scolding.

  He looks up at you, he lowers his paw… then raises it again, making you glare at him. He lowers it again, turns away… you turn back to wiping the dishes and look over your shoulders after a few seconds—his paw is raised again!

  This back and forth continued until he finally knocked it over.

  And then he has the audacity during the next day’s dinner to sound like he has never been fed in his life while you’re trying to eat in peace. Meowing at you so loudly one would think he was terribly injured, eyes wide and mouth open. You hope your neighbours don’t think you’re trying to starve him, or treat him horribly.

Dainsleif ;

He’s not happy about it, he has things to do—places to be and investigations to make. Thankfully you’re familiar with where you were going next… but Dainsleif is very limited in what he can do. You decide to give him the task of scouting and sneaking around, something he’s used to doing anyway… but he finds that it’s much more effective to do so as a cat. His footsteps are completely silent and his senses are much sharper.

  Though, he had an instinctual need to swat at a glowing orb that you found in a strange vault half-buried in a cave in Fontaine before he could stop himself—which closed the two of you inside the vault. Thankfully he is now small enough that he could slip out between the bars and unlock it from the other side.

  It is quite cute how his ears flattened as you walked out, as if he was sorry. Though he seemed okay after you scratched behind his ears and assured him it was okay, he was here to help you out after all! His tail swayed in satisfaction to your assurance.

  You start to set down camp for the night, having just one pair of hands makes it a bit more of a lengthy process, and Dainsleif can only sit and watch as you put it together. He’s usually quite distant, even in a relationship—but as you straighten from squatting to fit something down, you feel something press against your leg and see him rubbing his furry cheek against you, then walking around your legs, tail trailing behind.

  He’s usually quite wary and alert, even during the night when you try and convince him to sleep—and it’s no different now. He sits poised and ready… for what? He’s a cat. But you appreciate the effort. 

  Surprisingly, he’s very active at grooming himself, the two of you usually have to bathe often anyway as you frequent dusty caves and muddy backwaters, but every time you make a stop, he sits down and starts licking his fur—at first you wondered if he was frustrated by something or had hurt himself, but as you picked him up to examine for any injuries or strange patches, he just blinked at you, tongue still half-hanging out.

  Dainsleif is rather laid-back when it comes to your relationship, there are times where you want to stay in a larger city for a few days or weeks in between travels, to have a soft bed and four walls around you—which Dainsleif doesn’t mind, there are places he wants to look into where he’d prefer you are safe elsewhere. He knows where you will be and will stop by to ask if you’re ready to continue days or even sometimes a few weeks later, to which you—recharged and rejuvenated—jump at the chance to follow him out of the city.

  But now, as a cat, he doesn’t leave your side for a minute—not even when you need to use nature’s bathroom. You went into a small village in Sumeru when passing through and a vendor was particularly pressing about selling you some type of perfume that you had shown brief interest in—Dainsleif had enough of you being pestered and whacked his paw at the man’s leg, hissing. He would usually be more subtle about guiding you away, but he doesn’t have the presence he usually does as he is now, so he must utilise the aggressiveness given to him in feline form. You take the chance to scoop him up and hurry away before the vendor can get upset, petting between his ears and thanking him for the help—he rubs his cheek against yours. He’s surprisingly more affectionate like this as well.

Diluc ;

Your nose itches… you try to hold back—achoo!!

  Diluc jumps, claws scuttling against the ground and he leaps from his resting spot and hops down to the floor. You sniffle and shake your head. “Sorry, it’s not your fault,” you stand from his chair and round the table to squat down next to him, reaching a hand out. “Did I startle you?”

  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound, fur red as freshly bloomed roses. Diluc bumps his snout into your palm and huffs into it, you turn your hand and pet along his back. “Aaah… you’re so cute~ so soft,” you near coo as you scratch behind his ears—

  Diluc shakes himself and ducks under your hand to walk past you—how dare you baby-talk him?! He’s not an actual cat! The scritches felt too nice, and his ears flicked when you cooed at him—it’s embarrassing…

  He sits down by the door, tail swaying lazily as a small meow leaves him. Let me out. 

  You pout, how can you not convey how cute he is? You want to rub his cheeks. But fine, you  walk over and open the door for him to slip out of. 

  Diluc likes the lounge around the fireplace in the estate, there’s not much work he can do  while you try to figure out how to turn him back—preferably without alerting his brother or any of the knights… or just anyone in general. Unfortunately, he can’t hide it from the staff of the Winery as he is a spitting image of himself in cat form, and you’ve caught more than three people trying to feed him expensive cheeses. 

  It’s only in the recent days that you’ve convinced him to settle down and use the time to rest and nap as much as he can, but Diluc was extremely restless at first, you had to trap him inside a room and trick him into lying down with you.

  One day, Jean came by looking for him, and you had to think fast to come up with an excuse while he had just leapt under the sofa to hide. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to need him urgently, so she just left a message behind and went back to her day.

  You fell asleep in Diluc’s study, trying to keep up with his paperwork—Adeline offered to help you, she’s very familiar with his work, and it’s not like it’s been a long time since he wasn’t there to do it… but you wanted to help, and as the sun sank below the horizon, you laid down on the sofa in his study next to a tall bookcase—only closing your eyes was enough to pull you into deep sleep.

  Diluc hops onto the sofa next to you, he carefully walks over your thighs and settles on the armrest where your head is. His fluffy tail sways and strokes your chin and nose—nearly waking you as you almost sneeze, you don’t have to work so hard for him, he knows you want to help. He wishes he could tell you, and he will, when he’s back to normal. For now, he rests alongside you, head leaning against the top of yours and tail tucked against your neck.

Kaedehara Kazuha ;

Kazuha is a very chill cat, he doesn’t get into trouble, he doesn’t cough hairballs on the floor and he doesn’t knock things over.

  (Instead of coughing hairballs on the floor he swats them off-deck with his paws, Beidou caught him doing it once).

  There’s not much trouble to get into on the ocean, and he’s rather good at keeping out of trouble overall on land, sticking by his side is a sureway to a boring day of exploration or lounging around—which is your perfect type of day.

  You help him into your bag as the Crux ‘boards’ by Liyue Harbour (it stops a bit away and tucked by a cliffside to avoid attention) and you make sure he doesn’t accidentally fall into the ocean as a few crewmates row to land. You’re stopping for a few days, so you make sure to use the time to relax and take in landside air and wander around the expansive Harbour. 

  Kazuha likes to take life at a slower pace, and thus your walk to the Harbour took longer than you expected… as you thought Kazuha was doing his normal meditation on a warm, sun-kissed rock along the road…

  But he was asleep, sitting up and enjoying the sun. It took you thirty minutes to realise—a sitting cat with its eyes closed and a sleeping cat in a sitting position is the exact same.

  He very much likes to people-watch, but in this cat form, he seems even more engaged—he can hear sounds more clearly and he seems even more perceptive than usual. Watching a tea maker brew a cup on a teahouse table you had sat by to rest and ordered some snacks. He sniffs at the tea as it’s placed in front of you—he’s perched comfortably on your lap, you’re surprised the teahouse even allows him inside—and seems to appreciate the detail he gets from this new perspective, af if it smells different in this form.

  He tries to taste it and your food, but you have to block his snout with your hand, you’re not sure if the food you were having would give him a stomach ache or not. 

On a walk on the outskirts of the city, you look back and see Kazuha carrying a stick in his mouth…?

  He’s not a dog, so you’re not entirely sure why he’s doing it, maybe cats do that too? The dogs that hang around the bridge leading to the southeast outside of Liyue Harbour try to approach him with the stick, thinking he was playing, but he hops into a tree to keep it to himself. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but he seems to be having fun.

  Kazuha wanders off oftentimes, just in his normal, usual body… so you’re not sure why you’re surprised when you suddenly find him missing from your side—perhaps it’s because he’s a cat and you’re unsure if he can defend himself as well in that form, but you hurry to look for him.

  You practically run in circles until you find him pressing his paw to a brown, crusty leaf… again and again, as if listening to the crunch of it in a rhythm. You sigh and scoop him up into your arms. “Don’t wander off like this,” you scold and poke his nose. Kazuha sneezes from the poke, but blinks up at you and nods his little furry head.

Kaeya ;

Unbothered, in his element. Kaeya sleeps in your windowsill and bathes in the sunlight all day while you scratch your head over how this could’ve happened. You try to leave for work and he practically screeches at the door, likely pleading you not to leave—he does that normally as well, except without the loud meowing. 

  Kaeya finds appreciation in the flexibility and grace that comes with this new body, he easily leaps up on shelves and dives under the sofa, he chases flakes of dust and seems to be having quite a good time—perhaps it’s because he has no responsibilities in this form, he can’t go to work like this and has no control over it. And the loss of control is strangely freeing. 

  You scoop him up into your arms and his tail swishes happily, he grabs his claws into your shirt and purrs as you rub his ears, happy and content with the additional affection. He loves all affection he gets from you no matter what form it takes, and being a cat has given him the opportunity to be pampered in ways he never could experience as a human. 

  He does need his free time as well and he uses it well while you’re out of the house—though you were very optimistic to think that closing the windows would keep him contained, Kaeya easily flips the handles and slips out of your home. He enjoys the attention he gets from any passersby, but is careful not to be too affectionate and get picked up by someone who thinks he’s a stray. 

  His usual guarded front lowers in this form, he feels like he could slip out of any situation—and he doesn’t have to be careful with his words or actions. No one expects a cat to have alternative intentions. 

  He jumps up in surprise as he hears footsteps rapidly approaching—he had fallen asleep on a ledge and the sun was already down. Kaeya blinks as you pick him up, breath heaving. “There you are, I’ve looked everywhere for you! I thought something happened when I couldn’t find you around the plaza,” you sigh a breath of relief and practically crush him to your chest. Kaeya wriggles a little but gives up and nuzzles into you, pushing his forehead into your cheek. 

  After a number of days, Kaeya gets bored, as fun as lounging around and being pampered it… he misses real food, and dragging you away from your work to have lunch—and holding you properly, he can only lay on top of you like this, which doesn’t exactly feel like holding.

  And Kaeya being restless… he gets whiny. 

  He would usually be more subtle, but now that he feels the rush of freedom his feline form gives him, he uses it to protest by loafing on your clothes after you fold them to put away, laying over your lap when you need to get up—even though he’s not really a cat… kind of, you still get the same feeling of not wanting to move him off no matter how much space he’s taking.

  But that’s okay, because he just has to slow blink at you and nuzzle into your hand and you forgive him, how could you not?

Kamisato Ayato ;

Ayato is an unreasonably pretty cat. His fur is soft and silky, he has this… smug kitty-smile at all times, and it makes you want to pinch his ears. He sits on your lap and peeks onto the low table inside his study as you go through paperwork. Just because he’s become a cat doesn’t mean his workload just miraculously lessens. 

  Thankfully, after a few days of trying to juggle his work—how does he do it?!—even with him by your side, albeit in a form that can’t properly communicate… Ayaka decides to lend a hand, she takes it upon herself to attend meetings and represent the clan and Commission in Ayato’s stead. Thankfully no one has questioned where he is yet.

  Or why there is a suspiciously similar cat trotting around the estate in his place. 

  You fish into a bush in the courtyard gardens, hand feeling around—until you find fur and yoink it up. Ayato blinks at you, tail swishing as he has a piece of grilled fish in his mouth that he stole from the kitchens. “You know… you can have all the fish you want—you don’t have to steal it,” you say as you lift him into your arms.

  His ears flick as you talk, but he eats the fish happily regardless. You shake your head in mild exasperation. Looks like he’s using the opportunity to engage in… more mischief than usual. Perhaps a different kind. 

  Ayato likes to use his newfound stealth and agility to his advantage… to torment you.

  You put away some laundry and turned to a shelf to fetch something—only to come face to face with Ayato’s cat-face, making you jump as he meows happily—as if happy to see you! He knows he’s just trying to startle you!

  He winds around your feet when you walk around the estate and purrs happily when you squint at him.

  Ayato knows the limits, he stops before you can lock him inside a room for the remainder of the day. His fur is so soft as you pet him and a rumbling purr leaves him, he knows it’s silly—he’s not really a cat, at least, hopefully not for long. But you keep petting and stroking him while he does. 

  He takes good care of himself on normal days, and as a cat, it’s no different—he grooms himself meticulously, though finds it rather embarrassing if you’re looking, so he tries to do it out of sight… it's very instinctual, but he also likes to feel clean and groomed. 

  You once passed the great hall and saw Thoma wriggling a toy with a bundle of feathers on it while Ayato chased it… it was pretty cute to watch, but you hurried along before either of them could notice you. 

  He hogs the futon, you don’t want to push him to the side and get pushed to the edge of the mattress yourself. Ayato doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

Kaveh ;

Distressed, not having fun, he wants to go home.

  A series of meows in varying states of distress and confusion follow behind you as you walk, you stop and turn around, peering down at the strange cat that’s been following you around since you left the Akademiya. You were about to ask what he wants… but as you squint at the cat… doesn’t it look familiar?

  Kaveh doesn’t stop when you do, he raises on his hind legs by your feet and sinks his claws into your pants, a shrill, distressed meow leaves him.

  You reach down and pick him up, holding under his front legs as you inspect him… hm, golden fur with tints of a darker, sandy brown… those big red eyes.

  “... Kaveh?” you must be crazy, there’s no way your partner is a cat, and followed you around without you realising, but you know those eyes very well. It’s him.

  Alhaitham just stares at you like you grew three additional heads, he looks at Kaveh in your arms and then back at you. “... it looks like him, but that’s not proof enough—have you asked him to write his name?”

  You look at Kaveh and he tilts his small head to look up at you. Write his name…? He doesn’t exactly have thumbs… but Alhaitham has a good point. What if it’s just a very persistent cat? 

  Then again… where would Kaveh be? He’s usually home by this time.

  Alhaitham fetches a pen and some parchment and you put Kaveh down on the table. He tries to use his paws at first but just spills ink all over the place—but as he grabs the pen with his mouth and clumsily scribbles his signature, Alhaitham just hums while you scoop Kaveh up again, holding him up. “It is you! What happened to you, Kaveh?”

  Of course, he can’t give a proper answer, he wriggles his paws around and meows in a long dialogue—but it’s entirely incomprehensible. 

  While you and Alhaitham try to figure out how to get him back, Kaveh tries to adjust to his… predicament. He doesn’t do it with any grace, though… his leaps and jumps across furniture are miscalculated and he falls to the ground or hits his head more often than you can count.

  But your worried petting and rubbing the aching area makes him purr and nuzzle into your arms.

  He does hate the heightened senses, he jumps at the smallest noise and scuttles across the room if anything startles him—and he gets startled very easily like this.

Neuvillette ;

You call his name, looking around his office… you scratch your head, he can’t have gone far, you just left to fetch some tea for a few minutes. It’s not like he can open the door or window and slip out—why would he anyway?

  You hear a very… pathetic meow, from next to you—but there’s nothing there, just a sofa. You hear it again—under the sofa…?

  Ducking down, you see that Neuvillette is stuck, he seems to have been trying to squeeze himself under the sofa, and rounding the furniture, you see his hind legs and tail flat on the floor… it’s a bit amusing. “There, I got you,” you say soothingly as you lift the sofa up a little so he can back out. Neuvillette stands up and shakes his body.

  You squat down and smile. “How’d you get stuck under there?” you hold out your hand and he presses his head into your palm, nuzzling against your skin for comfort as you turn your hand to scratch and pet him.

  He’s not very good at resisting the instincts and temptations that come with this form—you’re unsure why he seems to struggle so much, but you try to help him as much as you can, and not laugh.

  You saw him chase a shadow, there is an ornament on the raised blinds that hang above the large window in his office. It's attached to the strings that lower and raise them and it sways slightly—casting a shadow across the floor.

  Another time he was grooming his fur and struggling, he has a thick, long coat and had to lean far back to reach the end of his fur as his tongue dragged along the hairs… causing him to roll backwards off the arm of the couch and into the pile of pillows.

  Innocent, small things that make you smile, but you’re careful that he doesn’t see it.

  He loafs over a stack of court documents as you organise his desk—might as well use the opportunity to clean up while he won’t be making a mess. He doesn’t seem satisfied with his place on the desk and stands… and spots a box on the ground, it’s stacked halfway with old documents to be taken to storage… but it also looks like the perfect spot to rest. He hops down from the desk and circles a few times on the papers to get comfortable. He wriggles a little before sitting down.

  It takes him a minute to realise that he was kneading into the paper when he hears the sound of it tearing under his claws in an instinctual need to make the bottom of the box comfortable. 

  Safe to say, he was mortified to have destroyed the top four documents, but thankfully they weren’t shredded and you managed to salvage them with some memory of what had occurred as well as piecing them together.

Tartaglia ;

You look towards the window above the kitchen counter, cold air brushes into the house as Childe enters through it—with a mouse in his mouth.

  You leap up and push the book in your hand against his face and push him straight back outside. “No! Absolutely not! Leave it outside, not in the house!!” You close the window behind him and sigh in relief, brushing stray snow into the sink. When you look up again, He’s sitting there, big eyes and ears flat against his head… but no mouse.

  Sighing, you open the window a smidge so that he can step inside, where he shakes himself and tosses flakes of melting snow all over. 

  Childe sits down, tail swaying—as if waiting for something.

  You set your haps on your hips. “What?”

  “Mrrow…” he wriggles his head, he wants a pat. 

  … fine, just because he took the mouse outside because you ‘asked’, you raise your hand to stroke his head and he tilts it to lick your palm—but you pull back. “No, you just had a wild animal in your mouth, wash your mouth!”

  What is this?? He feels like a criminal, all he did was bring you a prize… to be fair, he realised how silly it was to bring you a dead animal when you leapt up to push him back out, but it felt completely natural up until that point!

  He whines and meows for forgiveness for the rest of the night, and you do eventually ‘forgive’ him and let Chile lounge around on your lap while you pet him and continue reading.

  He picks fights with swaying curtains, chases your broom when you’re cleaning and even whacked your cup of coffee off the dinner table—spilling it everywhere. He’s a nightmare in this form, because no matter the scolding, he just stares at you with excited, large eyes and a swaying tail.

  Nothing you say gets through his head. In one ear and out the other. 

  He does not give up either, if he wants affection, he will get it one way or the other, even if he has to whine and meow endlessly, follow you around—fake a limp! You shake him a bit after he worried you and you almost went out in the middle of the evening through the snow to take him to a vet when he just wanted scritches. 

  In all fairness… this is just typical behaviour, but now he has the kitten eyes to break your self control and composure within seconds. 

Thoma ;

He tries to do his job even in cat form, using his tail to sweep, he even takes his duster into his mouth and tries to sweep on surfaces he’d usually need ladders to reach, and now he can just leap to them.

  But he also has a problem…

  He has an instinctual need to create a mess, knock things over or sit on things—when he catches himself in an act of pushing Ayaka’s discarded tea off a table, he nearly leaps away to stop himself. 

  Thankfully, everyone around him doesn't mind—and it’s a bit relieving to see that Thoma retains a sense of himself. He finds time where he would usually go into town to instead nap—and the Kamisato estate has perfect napping spots. He lies sprawled across the engawa surrounding the eastern part of the estate near the back gardens, and lets the warm beams of the sun warm his belly—only to shoot up in surprise when he hears footsteps, embarrassed to be caught lounging around. 

  Ayato sometimes plucks him away to keep on his lap for hours while he sorts through paperwork, petting and scratching behind his ears while his other hand signs documents. Thoma gets a bit restless just loafing on his lord’s lap and meows in relief when you come along to fetch him. 

  Ayaka leapt at the opportunity to sew a few accessories for him, guised under the excuse of “practise for smaller bodies” and Thoma ends up with half a wardrobe by the end of the week. 

  But he prefers to be around you, you don’t trap him on your lap (even though Ayato gives very good scritches) or make him model for three hours (even though Ayaka gave him snacks). As you work around the estate, he gets tired—curse this cat body and it’s perpetual need for napping!—and you tuck him gently into your eri*. Thoma lays nestled against your chest warmly, his body light and still as you continue your work. 

  The gardens of the Kamisato estate is a disaster zone, and after the first few days, thoma knows to avoid it. 

  He had strolled past, early in his transformation—and been startled by his own reflection in the pond he passed by, the fish swimming away in a hurry as he ran across the gardens in surprise. A second time, he had spent twelve minutes chasing a butterfly while Ayato watched with a signature smile… he will likely not let him forget it. 

  Thankfully, he’s not needed much in the gardens, and he sits perched atop a high shelf in the kitchens, his tail sways as he leans forward… very much ready to leap and steal some food—before you pluck him up and raise an eyebrow.

  His ears flatten in realisation, but you rub his cheeks and tuck him back into your clothes—grabbing some leftover pears from the dessert the kitchens were making, letting him munch on it while you get back to work. 

Venti  ;

You didn’t think Venti could become even more of an airhead on a typical day as he does when he becomes a cat. He gets distracted by the smallest things and wanders off—leading to a wild goose chase where you have to ask around for a small darkly coloured cat with blue highlights on its ears and tail—a very distinct cat!—and being pointed in every direction possible.

  Only to discover him napping in a crate full of apples in an alley you walked past at least six times just in the last fifteen minutes. 

  He is also very vocal, Venti says anything that comes to his mind… which is unfortunately nothing but meowing nonsense to your ears, but you nod along as if you understand, having a halfway conversation with the lively cat. 

  Somehow, he very much likes to play and nap like he’s being paid to do it at the same time. In one moment, he’s swatting at your clothes and trying to get to play with your fingers—which he accidentally bites and scratches in his excitement, quickly rectifying it with some licks and nuzzles—and the next, he’s passed out cold in a box or on a shelf for five hours.

  He doesn’t seem embarrassed by these new catlike instincts, such as the need to groom himself—he even starts grooming you halfway through his coat, you’re sure your skin is very much clean by the time he finally turns back to himself. 

  Unlike normal cats, who move and settle down elsewhere when the person under them gets up… Venti is not happy about being disturbed nor that you’re trying to get up, he whines and kneads on your clothes to try and get you to stay a little bit longer, giving you the best big kitten eyes he can muster.

  And damn him, it works. He knows what he’s doing. 

  You had been looking for him one morning, thinking he just wandered off again and you’d find him napping in some corner of the city… when Diluc approaches you with a sheepish looking Venti-cat, holding him by the scruff of his neck. “This yours?”

  Diluc doesn’t even seem surprised that the bard is a cat. At least he isn’t an allergy risk when he’s human-like and trying to get into his wares. 

Wanderer ;

He is very aware of himself, he knows he looks stupid (cute) and that everything he does will be looked at through the lens of a typical cat and not someone stuck in its body.

  And thus, he does all he can to be as eerie and unnatural a cat as he can be.

  He doesn’t make a single sound, no meowing, no purring, nothing. He doesn’t walk like a cat—thankfully he doesn’t walk on two legs—nor does he exhibit any of their typical behaviours.

  At least, that was the plan. 

  Every single time Wanderer catches himself doing anything that could be considered “cat-like”, such as grooming himself, chasing a loose string, or gods forbid… kneading—he will immediately stop and compose himself again.

  As opposed to some others, he absolutely hates the loss of control that follows becoming a cat. 

  He can’t write properly, he can’t communicate—and if he tries, no one but you and perhaps Nahida takes him seriously—he’s always sleepy and aware at strange times… he hates it! 

  And once when he was just trying to have some grapes for snacks—you suddenly leapt towards him to stop him, taking the bowl off the table with a relieved huff when you noticed he hadn’t swallowed any of it… after you pried the grape out of his mouth. At his hissing, you explained that cats can’t have grapes. 

  He gave you the cold fur-shoulder for at least two days. 

  You brought him out one time to get some fresh air—since he’s fully aware of himself, he shouldn’t run off and get lost, or into a dangerous situation like an indoor cat might. But when you gave some other cats around the streets of Sumeru attention, he quickly meowed in protest and whacked the other cats away. 

  It’s a bit cute… he doesn’t normally act so forthcoming, and as he bumps his head into your knee afterwards, you rub his cheeks and pinch his ears despite further protest. How cute!

Wriothesley ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Wriothesley was just a “cat”. He’s huge*. 

  You put a bowl in front of him, filled with foods that are okay for cats to eat but also not… gross, as Wriothesley is very much aware in that cat-head of his. “C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with this, I even tasted it—it’s a bit bland ‘cause we can’t put any seasoning, but it’s food.”

  He leans down, and for a second you think that he’s going to eat it—but as his whiskers brush against the sides of the bowl, he lifts his head abruptly and swats at the bowl, clattering it to the ground—he didn’t mean to hit it at all, but also not this hard. 

  You scratch your head, you just can’t figure out why he won’t eat—you’ve tried everything!

  It took you several hours of back and forth questions and meowing to realise that it was the shape of the bowl that was the problem and not the food itself.

  On another day, you reach down to pet his soft, thick fur—only to get a static shock, it zaps your fingers and both of you jump back. You always have to be careful with petting him, as there’s always a risk of getting zapped at any time. Worst part is, it’s not even every time! It catches you off guard!

  He likes to climb and jump on the pipes that web around the fortress, getting into places he’s never even considered before—and sometimes you look around for him for hours before giving up… only to suddenly be leapt on from above by a nine kilogram heavy cat half your size, knocking you over.

  Siegwinne noticed that he had been brooding lately, he had been stuck as a cat for five days now and it was beginning to frustrate him. So she decided to soak a small blanket in tea mixed with catnip—after it was dry and she rubbed some more on it, she laid it out in his office…

  You watched him for a good long while as he rubbed against it, meowed and rolled on the blanket. It was unbearably adorable, but you eventually pulled him away after a while—worrying it might be too much.

  He’s so large that it’s almost like sleeping with a person, just a very furry one. He lies halfway over you and as you wake in the morning—he refuses to get up. You give in and relax in bed for a while… until he starts kneading your cheeks, leaving small scratches with his big paws and claws. You don’t stop him—it doesn’t hurt, he looks so focused, like he’s trying to squeeze something out of your cheeks. 

Xiao ;

He meows and wriggles in your arms, but you try your best to hold him until you reach the top of the inn—he swats at you and you finally let him go when you enter his usual reserved room. Despite being paws up when you let go of him, Xiao lands perfectly and immediately hops up to the highest vantage point in the room he could reach. 

  You don’t get him down by yourself, he only comes down willingly after a few hours when he’s calmed down and adjusted a bit to this form. You’re not entirely sure what happened, you had just been exploring a cave that was strangely entwined with a temple of sorts, when a bright light appeared behind you, and Xiao—who had been accompanying you—was suddenly a cat. A very small cat. 

  He loafs on the windowsill in the night, his tail wrapped around his paws as he peers towards the sky—at the slightest noise, his ears flicker towards it and he squints at the roads below that pass and surround the large inn. 

  He is unbothered. Firm. Stoic.

  … after getting wet under a pouring rain that persisted all day, he pretends not to be bothered by his wet fur and the uncomfortable existence he leads under this blanket of wet fur…

  But he can only pretend for so long. You turn away and pretend to busy yourself to allow him some privacy to reluctantly lick along his fur and smooth it down, trying to clean or groom it in a way that makes it less sloppy. 

  He hates it, this weird satisfaction that comes with this very primal instinct, and yet, he does still feel the satisfaction.

  Xiao is difficult to read on an average day, he’s very used to controlling his emotions and maintaining a front that’s difficult to get past.

  But as a cat… he’s an open book, he approaches you with a curled tail, he slow blinks at you when you drag your fingers through his fur as he loafs on the windowsill. 

  But he does. Not. Meow. 

  Except for that time you hauled his ass back to the inn… and when Zhongli makes a sudden appearance, he hops from his perched position and snakes around the former Archon’s legs, purring and meowing as he’s being petted and spoken to. He doesn’t notice his own behaviour…

  Not until the following night after Zhongli leaves, and Xiao is mortified that he behaved like an affection-depraved cat in front of Morax.

  Thankfully you sliding a comb through his fur and untangling some knots from the day distracts and calms him down in the evening.

Zhongli ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Zhongli was actually aware he was a cat, he follows you around, sits on a bench and licks his paw to clean it while you shop for groceries… he chases anything shiny that you come across and swats at it with his paws, leaps at it and tries to capture it—usually rocks or mora people drop. Maybe he likes the mineral, maybe it’s the shine. You can’t really know.

  You try to give him some nice food, cut down nicely so he won’t accidentally choke on it… but he won’t eat it, not unless you plate it properly…? At least, when you rearranged it better and separated the meats from the greens, he seemed to like it more. Maybe he thought you were treating him a bit too much like a pet rather than a partner that’s unfortunately become a cat for a (hopefully) limited time.

  After a long day of… not doing much, Zhongli realised he had left scratches on the sides of some furniture and he tries to hide or cover them up for the time being, dragging a blanket over the arm of a divan in the living room… hopefully you won’t discover them and he can fix it after he’s back to normal before you notice.

  You do notice that he very much prefers specific textures, he doesn’t like walking on the hardwood floor of your home and instead prefers to lie down or sit on blankets or the silken sheets in your shared bedroom. 

  Despite the strange predicament, Zhongli is very calm, he’s both patient and has a good sense—if this was a dangerous curse or spell that was difficult to reverse, he would likely sense it. Instead, he considers using this time to show and receive affection in a way you haven’t been able to before. 

  He often sits by your legs or thighs, he winds around them and rubs his furry cheeks along your clothes and pretty much anywhere he can reach. Your legs when he’s winding around them, your hand when you reach out to pet him, your cheek when he stands on your chest when you’re trying to read in bed before sleeping. 

  He purrs and cuddles with you, laying in your arms or over your lap—he even hid in your bag once when you went out for the day, and you discovered it too late to take him back home (you did wonder why your bag felt heavier than usual) and thus, he has the pleasure of accompanying you to your work—something he doesn’t often get the excuse or time to do. 

  Thankfully, Hu Tao didn’t question it when you came to her and said that Zhongli couldn’t come to work for a few days (hopefully just a few days). If anything, she sighed in relief and said something about him finally using his paid time off and sick days. Then thanks you for taking him out of commission??? 

  You pour over some scrolls and papers to try and figure out how to turn Zhongli back, and he hops onto the desk in the study, nuzzling against your arm before sitting down, tail swaying as he joins you in searching for ways to bring him back to you in a more familiar form. Despite how cute he is like this. 

* eri is the collar-flap on the front of a kimono/yukata that crosses over the chest, he's tucked into it and lying on his back. if you know about the nioh cat clock scene, yeah.

* wriothesley is supposed to be a maine coon type of cat, just huge and heavy. but not wild cat huge.

[helaintoloki]

Across the Hall

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings/notes: kind of a slow burn with fluff, angst, themes of insecurity, violence, reader has an abusive ex, eventual happy ending

a/n: this took me forever to write but hopefully you guys like it! and also friendly reminder that my requests are open so feel free to send in your ideas :)

summary: Bucky’s quiet life is disrupted when a new neighbor seeks his help

It starts with three knocks to his door.

Bucky had only been home for five minutes since returning from his workout when the noise startled him out of his contemplative state. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the interruption considering he wasn’t expecting company so late into the evening, but he felt obligated to throw on a sweater to cover his arm and answer the door for whoever stood on the other side.

The man is taken aback when he finds you standing there before him nervously wringing your hands together with a timid smile. He doesn’t quite recognize you, but he vaguely recalls hearing word of a new tenant in the building and assumes that must be you. He notes the way your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him and shifts uncomfortably in response, unsure as to what exactly it is you’re here for.

“Hi,” you promptly greet after regaining your composure. He’s much more handsome up close, and you hadn’t been prepared for that. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I kind of have a bookshelf that’s a bit too heavy for me to move on my own and I was hoping you could help me? I just moved in across the hall so I’m trying to get settled in, but it’s proving to be more difficult than I anticipated.”

The stoic man can’t help but to let out an amused chuckle at your predicament; you appear so jumpy and nervous after asking such a mundane request, but he oddly finds it endearing. Bucky was known to keep to himself and avoid interactions with other tenants, but he figured he could make an exception for a new neighbor.

“Sure,” he offers with a friendly smile, feeling oddly proud at the look of relief that washes over your features in response. He didn’t exactly have any exciting plans for the evening, so he could spare some time to help you move your heavy shelf.

“Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver!” You exclaim before offering your hand for him to shake. “I’m y/n, by the way.”

“James,” he replies before cautiously taking your hand in his left one, thankful for the fact he’d left his leather gloves on when returning home. You don’t seem to notice his abnormality as you pull your hand away and lead the man into your apartment.

Unsurprisingly, it’s sparsely decorated and overflowing with boxes that have yet to be unpacked, but there are hints of personal touches spread throughout. The bookshelf in question sits in the center of the room, and by the scratches in the floor Bucky can tell you’d fruitlessly attempted to move it yourself before seeking his help.

“Just tell me where you want it,” he prompts you before grabbing the edges of the shelf.

“I was thinking of having it up against this wall next to the couch,” you explain while wildly gesturing with your hands towards the empty space. “At least, it will be against the couch once I buy one…”

“I take it you didn’t bring a lot of furniture with you,” he jokes lightheartedly despite how awkward he feels being in the apartment of a woman he’s only known for about three minutes. He moves the shelf with minimal effort, though he plays up the amount of strain he experiences so that you don’t become suspicious of how incredibly strong he is compared to the average man.

“I was kind of in a rush to leave the last place I was staying so I brought what I could,” you explain with a sheepish smile. “Thank you again for this, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies easily before stepping back to admire his work. “This good?”

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Anything else you need?” He offers, but you simply shake your head in response.

“I think that should be it for now, but if something comes up you’ll be the first to know,” you joke with a smile, appearing more at ease now with the man. Your face brightens before you wordlessly disappear into the kitchen, leaving Bucky alone and unsure if he should make his exit or not. However, before he can make a decision you quickly return with a Tupperware full of muffins. “Here, I just baked these an hour ago so they’re still pretty fresh.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” he tries to deflect with a bashful smile, but you’re insistent he take the container from your grasp and practically shove it into his hands.

“Really, take them. Consider them thank you muffins for allowing me to briefly inconvenience you.”

Letting out a small huff of amusement, Bucky finally relents with a nod and accepts your offering. “Thank you.”

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” you proclaim with a sigh before walking him out the door. “Have a good rest of your night, and don’t be a stranger.”

You part with a friendly wave before gently shutting the door behind him, leaving Bucky to stand aimlessly in the hallway with the container of muffins in his hands. He feels oddly warm and content inside, emotions that rarely follow interactions with strangers, but he figures you’re not really a stranger now.

However, you have interrupted his evening, for Bucky spends the rest of the night thinking about your smile.

~~~

Three days pass before Bucky decides to seek you out.

He isn’t sure what compels him to become so bold, but he knows that he has to see you again. You haven’t left his mind in days despite how hard he tries to push the thoughts down, so he figures he might as well get it over with and attempt to start another conversation. He can’t exactly recall any of his old moves back from his own time or know if they’re still reliable, so he approaches the situation the only way he knows how.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greets with a timid smile when you finally open your door. You look surprised to see him, but he doesn’t miss the way your eyes brighten at his presence. You thought the man charming but quiet and assumed his reserved nature meant he liked to keep to himself, so you’re pleased to see him again after the bookshelf fiasco.

“Hi, James,” you say with a pleasant smile. “What brings you here?”

“I was hoping I could trouble you for a cup of sugar?” He asks, face immediately heating with embarrassment at the insanely cliche request. James had a perfectly good container of sugar in his own apartment, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Of course! I actually just went grocery shopping, come in.”

Your apartment looks vastly different from the last time he’d been here, more personal touches spread throughout and only a handful of unpacked boxes still remaining. It feels warm and inviting, and Bucky swallows nervously as he processes the fact that this is only his second time in your space. Maybe he should leave you alone before he gets in too deep, before he has to ruin your camaraderie by coming clean about the person he really is and you decide that you don’t want an ex-assassin in your apartment anymore. Instead, he chooses to make small talk.

“How are you liking it here so far?”

“It’s nice,” you hum thoughtfully as you reach for the sugar up on the shelf. Bucky quickly looks away when your shirt starts to ride up with your reach, but he can’t ignore the way his stomach flips at the sight of a little skin. “Everyone I’ve met so far is friendly and it seems really peaceful. I like having my own place again.”

“Were you living with someone before?” Bucky prods, hoping he’s not asking too many questions. You smile faintly as you begin to pour the sugar into a small jar, but he notes the way it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Yeah, uh, my fiancé. Or, ex-fiancé now, I guess,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle. “It didn’t work out.”

Your usually cheerful demeanor has now dulled, and Bucky feels guilty for having brought it up in the first place. He isn’t exactly sure what to say or do to make it better, but thankfully you choose to save the conversation for him.

“What are you using the sugar for, by the way?”

Bucky stiffens, eyes widening slightly as he realizes he didn’t rehearse a script to go along with his lie. He wasn’t making anything, but he didn’t think he could flat out tell you that the sugar was just an excuse to see you again.

“Apple pie,” he quickly replies, wincing at the abruptness of his tone while you smile and carefully slide the jar of sugar across the counter his way.

“Sounds good. I’m more of a pumpkin pie girl, myself,” you hum thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I’m not really a pie person at all. Just thought I’d try something new,” Bucky offers with a sheepish grin, eyes glancing around the apartment only to notice the empty space next to the bookshelf. “Still haven’t found a couch?”

“Nope,” you relent with a tired sigh. “I’ve been meaning to go couch shopping, but I’m kind of worried about how I’m gonna even get it up the stairs and into the apartment by myself.”

“I can help you with that,” Bucky blurts before he can stop himself. You appear taken aback at first, but a look of relief soon washes over your features at his words.

“Oh my god, would you really?” You exclaim with delight, and before Bucky can even process what’s happening you’re quickly throwing your arms around the man in an appreciative hug. He stiffens immediately upon contact, not used to such acts of affection and especially not from a woman as pretty as yourself. You, however, don’t seem to notice his awkward demeanor in the slightest. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he offers bashfully as he tries not to let you see how much of an impact your touch has on him.

“Does tomorrow around one sound good?”

“It sounds perfect,” he replies earnestly.

It isn’t until later in the evening that he realizes he’s never been couch shopping before.

~~~

As Bucky promised, he accompanies you in your search for a couch and helps you carry it into your living room. It nestles in perfectly next to your shelf, and you couldn’t be more thrilled.

You invite him to stay for a movie in celebration of finally having a spot to sit, and though he promised Sam he’d meet him for dinner he doesn’t have the heart to say no to you. That’s how Bucky ends up nestled next to you on the couch enjoying his first ever viewing of Silence of the Lambs.

“So you’re telling me you’ve really never seen this movie before?”

“I guess you could say it’s been on my bucket list,” he admits with a diffident laugh, grateful you’re none the wiser to the truth his words hold.

“It’s one of my favorites!” You gush enthusiastically before passing him the bowl of untouched popcorn. “But I think that might make me sound crazy to admit out loud.”

“Crazy is good,” Bucky assures you with a tender smile, chest tightening at the way your eyes light up in response to his words. “I like crazy.”

You settle into the movie together with ease, enjoying snacks and answering any questions Bucky has about the film. It amazes him how naturally he can fall into spending time with you, almost as if you were merely long lost friends and not strangers who lived across the hall from one another. He hadn’t felt this way since Steve, but even then, what he felt with you was different. Special. You existed outside of his life as a Sargent or the Winter Soldier, and he enjoyed having you help him fulfill his need for normalcy.

A random sitcom now plays to provide background noise as you and Bucky continue to converse way past the movie’s end. You long to know more about the handsome stranger who has slowly become a normal part of your routine, and you hang onto every word he says no matter how heavy your eyelids feel.

“I’m not sure if I have a favorite song, but I definitely think I won’t be able to get ‘Goodbye, Horses’ out of my head for the next few days after watching that movie,” he confesses with a wry grin that has you quietly giggling into your hand.

“You seem like the type of guy who listens to oldies,” you note with a thoughtful hum, prompting him to shift uncomfortably from his place on the couch. “Would you say you have an old soul?”

“Something like that,” Bucky notes with a wince. He wants nothing more than to be completely honest with you, but he fears it may be too soon to unload his history on you. He’s not sure he could handle the hurt that would come from you pushing him away if you didn’t like the truth. “Do you like that type of music?”

“I did at one point, but I kind of fell out of it once I started dating my ex-fiancé. He hated it,” you note while scrunching your nose in distaste at the mere mention of the man. “He hated everything, if I’m being honest.”

“Is that why you called it off and moved here?” Bucky asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t mean to pry or be invasive of your past, but he wants to understand how any man could fumble an absolute gem like yourself.

“Well, that, and the fact that he had a habit of getting physical with me,” you confess casually with a despondent smile that fails to reach your eyes. Bucky rears back in shock at your confession, prompting you to quickly interject, “But I got out of there as fast as possible, and now I’m much happier on my own.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Bucky offers gently. “I hope you know how incredibly strong you are.”

Smiling, you carefully reach across and take his gloved hand in your own. Despite not being able to feel the touch of your skin, the warmth you emit is enough to have his heart racing in his chest when you tightly clasp his hand.

“You’re unlike any guy I’ve ever met, James.”

“Bucky,” he corrects you gently. Your brows furrow slightly in response, prompting him to let out a small chuckle at your puzzlement. He gently gives your hand a squeeze before continuing, “My friends just call me Bucky.”

Realization sets as your brows lower and lips pull into a delighted smile at his clarification. You gently return the squeeze before nodding in understanding, thrilled at the idea of having your first official friend in the city.

“Okay,” you agree softly, “Bucky it is.”

~~~

You knock on Bucky’s door with the hopes of having him over for dinner, but it isn’t your neighbor that greets you on the other side.

“Can I help you, little lady?” The man says with a playful smile. His stature is intimidating but his features are kind, and for a moment you find yourself forgetting what you even came for in the first place.

“Is Bucky home by chance?” You ask with a bashful smile, hoping your eagerness to see the man in question isn’t too obvious to his guest.

“He should be on his way back with some takeout,” the man explains. “You like Chinese?”

He doesn’t allow you to answer before opening the door wider and allowing you entry into the apartment. It feels wrong to do so without Bucky being present, but you don’t want to be rude by rejecting the kind man’s offer. You swallow nervously when stepping foot into his home for the first time; the apartment is tidy but scarcely furnished, though you’re not one to judge considering you went four days without a couch.

“You a friend of Bucky’s?” The man asks while pulling out a chair from the island counter for you to sit. You nod.

“I just moved in across the hall, and Bucky’s been helping me get settled in. I’m y/n, by the way.”

“Oh, so you’re y/n,” he says with a knowing smile before offering a hand for you to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Name’s Sam.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile politely before freezing as his words finally settle in your mind. “Wait, really?”

“Of course, Bucky speaks very highly of you,” Sam affirms with a wink.

“What do I speak highly about?” A voice interrupts, prompting you both to turn your heads towards the man juggling boxes of takeout in the doorway. His eyes widen in surprise at your presence before a careful smile settles on his face. “Y/n, what brings you here?”

“I came to see if you wanted to join me for dinner, but I guess I’m jointing you and Sam instead. If that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Sam answers for him, heartily clapping the man on the back. “A friend of Bucky’s is a friend of mine.”

You hide your laughter behind your hand at Bucky’s obvious annoyance towards his friend and decide to make yourself useful by setting the table for dinner. Despite this being your first time in his apartment, you’re easily able to find your way around his kitchen. It amazes him how quickly you’re able to make yourself comfortable in his space and how well you mesh into his life as if you’d always been a part of it.

“You never told me she was cute,” Sam murmurs under his breath with a playful nudge to Bucky’s side. The Sargent merely scowls in response before elbowing him back with more strength than necessary. However, the two immediately act inconspicuous when you turn your attention back to them and sit down to enjoy dinner.

“So how do you two know each other?” You ask before taking a bite of broccoli. Bucky gives Sam a pleading glance and attempts to convey his want for you to be kept in the dark about his true identity, and thankfully the Captain is able to pick up on his signals.

“We met through a mutual friend,” Sam answers with ease. “We actually hated each other at first.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Bucky tries to defend only to deflate at the pointed look Sam gives him.

“I don’t know how you can stand living across the hall from him,” Sam quips much to his friend’s chagrin.

“I’m actually really glad to be neighbors,” you confess with a sheepish smile, face heating with embarrassment while you try to avoid Bucky’s gaze. “I didn’t think I’d be able to make any friends when I first moved here, but he’s made it so much easier on me.”

“What are neighbors for?” Bucky offers with a careful smile before finally meeting your gaze. The room is charged with romantic tension as you two take in the other’s presence, and Sam makes sure to point this out to Bucky hours later when you finally return to your own apartment.

“I’m telling you, dude, she’s into you!” Sam exclaims from his place behind the sink. “You should go for it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky rebuffs with a scoff while taking a freshly washed plate from Sam and placing it on the drying rack.

“You’re kidding, right? You think I didn’t notice the eyes you were giving her?”

“What eyes?”

“You know, the eyes,” Sam emphasizes, immediately imitating the look of longing Bucky had worn earlier in your presence. The soldier’s face scrunches in bewilderment before he quickly shakes his head in displeasure.

“Don’t do that, that’s not what I look like.”

“That’s exactly what you look like,” his friend defends before handing him another plate. “Look, all I’m saying is it wouldn’t hurt to maybe tell the girl how you feel and invite her out for something nicer than Chinese takeout.”

“Alright, let’s say I ask her out. I pull out all the stops, and it goes perfect. She decides I’m the guy she wants to be with, and I decide that I need to come clean about who I really am in order for that to happen? What happens when I tell her she’s dating the Winter Soldier? When I tell her about the blood on my hands? She doesn’t even know about the arm.”

Sam is silent after Bucky’s line of questioning, and unsurprisingly, he doesn’t have an answer. The super soldier sighs before slumping against the island counter and allowing his head to hang in shame and regret.

“I’ve already lost one good friend. I don’t know if I can handle losing another,” he admits quietly, almost afraid to voice the thought aloud.

Sam rests a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder but remains silent, contemplating his next words before finally giving him a reassuring pat on the back.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” he reminds him gently. “And you and I both know this girl is worth the risk.”

Bucky smiles faintly at Sam’s words, thoughts already straying to you and the light you’ve managed to bring to his life. He knows his friend is right, but he still can’t bring himself to make a move, at least not yet.

All he can do is hope you won’t mind having an ex-assassin super soldier for a boyfriend.

~~~

A harsh thunderstorm plagues New York and cuts off the power to your building. Your apartment is shrouded in candlelight as you make the best of what you have, and you’re grateful for the fact that Bucky so graciously offered to come over and keep you company until the electricity is restored.

“I hate thunderstorms,” you shudder after lighting another candle to set on the coffee table. “They weren’t very common where I was from.”

“They’re a little loud,” Bucky agrees pensively. Each clap reminds him of his foggy past in the war, and he finds himself fighting to keep the unwelcome memories at bay.

You seat yourself on the couch across from the man and drape your throw over your legs to keep you warm. The living room is freezing now that the heater is out, and despite the amount of layers you throw on nothing seems to help.

“I don’t think I ever asked this, but what do you do for work?” You prompt him after a moment’s silence. Bucky shifts uncomfortably on the couch.

“I, uh, I’m retired,” he replies lamely while offering you a meager smile. “Army veteran.”

“You served in the army?” You ask with piqued interest, shifting a bit closer to the man. “What did you do?”

“I was a Sargent.”

“I never would have guessed,” you say thoughtfully.

“It was so long ago, I don’t… really like to talk about it,” Bucky confesses, refusing to meet your gaze. He knows he’s not technically lying to you, but he’s also aware of the fact that he’s not giving you the entire truth. He doesn’t know how to be straightforward with you, too petrified of risking you becoming afraid of him and withdrawing yourself, but he can only hide his true identity for so long before you find out.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you immediately apologize only for Bucky to assure you it’s fine. “We can talk about something else. How’s Sam?”

“That topic actually might be worse,” he grimaces, but his lighthearted smile that follows signals he’s only kidding. “Sam is good, just busy.”

“Being Captain America?” You finish for him with a raised brow much to Bucky’s surprise.

“You know?”

“I don’t think it’s exactly a secret,” you reply with a sheepish smile while wrapping the throw tighter around yourself. “He looked so familiar when I first met him, and a quick internet search helped me put it together pretty quickly.”

Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat at your words. If you’d done your due diligence on Sam, who’s to say you hadn’t done the same for him? Knowing you, he feels it’s safe to assume you would have brought it up by now if you had found any real information about his past, and he tries to remind himself of this as he attempts to quell the panic bubbling inside him.

“I won’t tell anyone that I met him personally or that he visits this apartment building,” you assure him, incorrectly assuming the reason for his panic is a need to protect Sam’s privacy. “Not that I really have anyone to tell considering you’re my only friend here.”

“Thank you for that,” Bucky breathes out in relief, anxious to move on from the conversation. “But what about your friends back home?”

“I didn’t really have any,” you quietly admit. You look away almost shamefully and take a moment to collect yourself before you can meet his eyes again. “My friends were my fiancé’s friends, and I knew they would never pick my side over his if I told anyone the type of man he really was. I knew if I wanted to get away I had to cut them off too or they’d just tell him where I’d run off to.”

Bucky knows he has no right, but every time you mention your ex-fiancé he can almost feel the anger boiling inside him. He can’t comprehend how anyone could ever mistreat someone as wonderful and kind as you, and he knew if he ever got the chance to meet the man he’d make him pay for all the hurt and anguish he’d caused you. Bucky almost felt like your protector in a sense, like it was his responsibility to look after you now that you were alone in such a big city, and he hoped you didn’t mind the fact.

A sudden clap of thunder has you nearly jumping into the air as you immediately throw yourself at Bucky’s side and anxiously grip onto his arm. He’s grateful for the fact that it’s his right arm you hold onto, but he still finds himself stiffening at the sudden closeness. It’s been years since a beautiful dame has thrown herself at him like this, and his brain feels like it’s overloading as he tries to process the moment.

“I’m sorry,” you offer meekly, clearly embarrassed at your frightened outburst. You start to move away only for Bucky to pull you back, prompting you to look up at him in surprise.

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you with a comforting smile. “That’s what I’m here for.”

You find yourself slowly relaxing at his benevolent demeanor, and with his permission you slowly ease yourself back into his side and allow him to wrap an arm around your trembling figure.

The rain continues to pour outside your modest apartment, but you find yourself able to fall asleep in the comfort of Bucky’s embrace. The man never makes an attempt to move, not even when the power returns and the lights finally turn on. Instead, he allows himself to enjoy the warmth your closeness brings and admires your relaxed features as you sleep soundly with your head resting comfortably against his shoulder.

He could get used to this.

~~~

You scored a job as a waitress at a nearby diner to help pay your bills now that you’re completely on your own and your savings are beginning to run low, and Bucky notices that you’re gone from your apartment more often than not. His knocks go unanswered, and he finds himself feeling sullen in response to your sudden absence. You’ve invited him multiple times to come visit you at work and enjoy a free slice of pie, and on this particular day he decides to take you up on your offer.

It isn’t a long walk from the building, and he appreciates having an excuse to leave his apartment for once. His stomach is twisted in nervous knots at the thought of finally getting to see you again while he rehearses what he plans to say. Bucky’s boyish charm isn’t what it used to be, and his romantic moves are rusty from years of inaction. However, he is able to remember one move in particular that always went over well with the girls back in his day, and for that reason he stops at a local flower stand to buy you the nicest bouquet of roses he can find.

Bucky is a man in love, and if his gift goes over well, he plans to finally come clean and tell you everything about his past so that he can have a chance at being with you. No more beating around the bush.

The diner is empty save for a few occupied booths, and this makes it easier to spot you when he sets foot through the front doors. Though the sight of you immediately brings a smile to his face, it quickly fades when he notes the distress on your features. Your eyes are wide with fear, hands moving frantically as you speak to a man Bucky doesn’t recognize, and he doesn’t miss the relief that seems to wash over you when you meet his eyes from across the room and silently plead for help.

“Bucky!” You call with a nervous smile, anxiously wringing your apron in your trembling hands. “Perfect timing.”

“Who’s this?” He asks with a raised brow, eyeing the stranger up and down methodically. Bucky could easily take the man without question, but he still didn’t like the look of him. The man’s eyes were shifty and calculating, and his demeanor was one of arrogance and callousness.

“Bucky, this is Michael-“

“Her fiancé,” Michael boasts proudly with a braggart smile.

“Ex-fiancé,” you correct him through gritted teeth, “and he was just leaving.”

“Fine, fine,” Michael offers before raising his hands in surrender. “I know when I’m not wanted, but don’t think this is over.”

Bucky grunts in irritation when Michael goes out of his way to harshly bump his shoulder against your friend as he pushes his way out of the diner, leaving you a terrified mess as you stand trembling in the middle of the walkway. You swallow thickly and meet Bucky’s gaze with an apologetic smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’m sorry about that,” you offer quietly, hands still nervously wringing your apron. Bucky notes the subtle quiver of your bottom lip and the way your lashes flutter quickly to hold back tears. You look terrified, and he hates to see you so wound up.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky assures you gently as he sets the bouquet aside and takes your unsteady hands in his gloved ones. “Maybe you should sit down a minute and take a breath, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you murmur quietly before allowing him to gently ease you into the nearest booth. In your panic you hadn’t even noticed the flowers he’d brought, and despite your frenzied state you’re still able to offer him a bashful smile for his efforts. “Are these… are they for me?”

Nodding, Bucky grins before handing you the bouquet. “They’re for you, pretty girl. I thought they’d look nice in your apartment.”

“Thank you… for these, and for saving me back there. I can’t believe I froze like that.”

“What happened?” Bucky presses gently, wanting to know every detail possible so he can better protect you moving forward. You let out a shaky breath and absently fidget with the ribbon tying the flowers together as you begin to relay the events to your friend.

“I did everything I could to cover my tracks and start over, but he still managed to find me,” you murmur in defeat. “He wants me to come back home with him, and he says he won’t take no for answer. I don’t know what to do- he knows where I work, and it will only be a matter of time before he figures out where I live-“

“Hey,” Bucky urges gently, affectively stopping you from spiraling. “Nothing is going to happen to you under my watch. I’ll have Sam look into the guy, and in the meantime I’ll do whatever you need to feel safe, whether that’s walking you to work or crashing on your couch so you can sleep at night.”

You give him a watery smile and immediately rush to his side of the booth so you can throw yourself into his arms for a hug. He returns the embrace immediately, taking extra care not to use too much force with his vibranium arm while he holds you tightly to his chest. You don’t know when he’d managed to steal your heart, but you know that you’re falling in love with your neighbor from across the hall. He makes it so easy and has fallen into your life like a puzzle piece you hadn’t realized was missing from the picture. Unlike the men in your past, Bucky treats you with the utmost care and respect, and you adore him more than anything.

Bucky will keep good on his promise, and you trust him with your entire being to keep you safe.

~~~

As promised, Bucky has made it his own personal mission to be your bodyguard during your time of need. He drops you off and picks you up from work, accompanies you when you have to run out for groceries, and spends his nights sleeping on your couch. You feel guilty over the fact that the man is hardly ever in his own apartment anymore, so after some convincing you’re able to talk him into letting you cook him dinner at his place.

“Any word from Sam?” You prompt quietly while stirring a pot of marinara sauce on the stove. Life has been uneventful since Michael’s appearance at the diner, but you hate having to constantly look over your shoulder wherever you go. You don’t enjoy being on edge every waking moment and not being able to get a good night’s sleep, and you just want this whole situation to be over with.

“He hasn’t been able to find anything about your ex or his whereabouts. The man knows how to stay hidden,” Bucky replies with a scoff. The mere mention of him has the super soldier’s blood boiling, but he tries to remain composed for your sake. “But don’t worry. He can’t hide forever.”

Dinner is a quiet affair, and Bucky is disheartened to see how dejected and small you’ve become in the past few days. You aren’t yourself, not that he can blame you, but he just wishes there was something he could do to help you.

Nightfall comes soon after, and Bucky helps you get settled into bed. Despite being in his own apartment, he’s adamant that you take the mattress while he resumes his position on the couch. He thinks it will be safer that way, and he’ll be able to hear any threats before they make their way into the apartment.

“Try to get some sleep, doll,” Bucky utters softly, gently brushing his knuckles along your cheek before making his exit.

“Will you stay?” You blurt without thinking, surprising both you and Bucky as he stops in his tracks.

“Y/n, I… I don’t know,” he starts to say only for you to gently take hold of his hand and carefully tug him back towards you.

“I haven’t been able to sleep, and I’d feel better if you were here next to me,” you plead meekly, the exhaustion clear in your features. Bucky finds it hard to say no to you when you stare up at him with doe eyes and a trembling bottom lip; the sight pulls at his heartstrings, and so he finds himself carefully crawling into bed with you.

“Thank you,” you whisper gratefully as you shift onto your side to face him. Your noses are mere inches apart as you stare into each other’s eyes and enjoy the comfort of being together in bed.

“You’ll never have to thank me for wanting to take care of you,” Bucky whispers back while carefully pulling the blankets up higher over your shoulders. You feel the leather of his gloves brush against your bare skin and shudder before peering over at him.

“You sleep in those?” You voice curiously, prompting him to immediately stiffen in response. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without those gloves on.”

“I… have a prosthetic arm,” he confesses quietly, figuring now is as good a time as ever to tell you the truth. He refuses to meet your gaze as his lips pull tightly together into a frown, waiting for you to say something.

“Oh,” you hum softly. His heart pounds in his chest as he waits for judgement or disgust, but instead he feels your hand gently rest upon his left bicep. His entire body tenses, and he watches with bated breath as you run your fingers along the fabric of his long-sleeve shirt. You can’t feel the coolness of the metal, but you can sense the lack of flesh and muscle. He’s not sure how you’d never noticed before, but you weren’t exactly one for details.

“If it makes you uncomfortable I can sleep on the couch-“

“I think it’s cool,” you interrupt with a careful smile, no hint of insincerity or judgement in your tone. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to, but I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of.”

Bucky lets out an embarrassed huff of laughter and grapples with himself over your naivety. Would your opinion change if you knew what he’d done with his prosthetic arm as the Winter Soldier? He feels conflicted, but overall at ease with the fact that you seem receptive to his artificial appendage.

“You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever met,” Bucky compliments you before leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead. You find yourself moving closer so that you’re pressed against his chest, and it almost feels natural to him when he wraps his arms around your frame and pulls you tightly against him.

Nestled in Bucky’s warm embrace, you’re able to enjoy your first peaceful night of sleep since Michael’s return.

~~~

Bucky leaves your sleeping form behind the next morning to pick up breakfast sandwiches from the nearby bodega for you both. He doesn’t exactly have the supplies necessary to make a homemade breakfast, but he knows you’ll never say no to a coffee and your favorite sandwich. When he returns, he finds that his apartment is empty and you’re missing from the bedroom. Initially he figures you must have gone across the hall to your own place to freshen up for the morning, so he’s not worried.

Bucky decides it best to bring the food over to your apartment, but before he can even knock on your door he’s met with the sound of commotion coming from the other side. He hears your muffled voice frantically speaking to someone followed by the sound of shattered glass, your screams prompting him to break down the door and barge his way into the room.

You sit cowering against your bookshelf while Michael menacingly towers over you. A fresh bruise blooms along your cheek while hot tears make their way down your face, and you look to Bucky pathetically for help while curling in on yourself. The roses he’d bought for you now lay scattered on the ground with shards of glass accompanying them, allowing the man to easily piece together what had occurred in his absence.

“You again,” Michael scoffs before slowly making his approach towards the super soldier. He flashes a snide smile as he condescendingly speaks, “Thanks for looking after my fiancé while I was away, but I got it from here.”

Bucky is unmoving, his eyes cold and unrelenting as his hardened gaze stares down at the intruder. Through your tears you can note the enraged tick of his jaw and the way his hands are tightly clenched at his sides as he holds himself back from doing something he’ll regret.

“She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want you here,” he nearly growls through clenched teeth. “You need to leave.”

“Or what?” Your fiancé provokes with a disbelieving laugh. “You think just because she bats her lashes at you and spends the night in your bed that makes you special? She’s a little attention whore, and you’re an idiot if you think otherwise.”

“You can’t talk about a woman like that,” Bucky utters lowly. His body is vibrating with rage, his ears beginning to ring while the tension continues to build within him. He notes the way you watch on helplessly from your place on the floor, and the last thing he wants to do is scare you by becoming aggressive, but Michael was making this feat more difficult with each second that passed.

“I can talk however I want about my own fiancé, pal,” Michael speaks before giving Bucky a harsh shove. The man remains unmoving, and your attacker momentarily falters when realizing how sturdy his opponent is. “Now do yourself a favor and mind your business.”

“Bucky,” you softly cry out, shoulders trembling and eyes pleading for him not to leave you.

James finds himself taking a deep breath in while allowing his body to relax. Michael’s antagonistic voice drones on, and he knows there’s only one way to remove this man from your apartment and out of your life for good. He just hopes you won’t hate him after what is to come.

His hand immediately shoots out and catches Michael’s throat, effectively cutting off his air supply and his ability to speak. Your startled gasp fills the room as Bucky lifts the man before throwing him through your doorway. He slams against the opposite wall with a deafening thud before landing on the floor, and despite the excruciating pain he feels in his body he still desperately tries to crawl away as Bucky takes slow steps towards him.

“Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?” Bucky taunts before kneeling down next to him. “You’re lucky I’m letting you leave here while you’re still breathing. But if you ever come here again, if you ever put your hands on her again, if you ever even think about her again, I’ll make sure you leave in a body bag. Is that understood?”

Bucky doesn’t receive an answer, but he knows he’s made his point clear when your ex pathetically scrambles onto his feet and books it down the hallway. Resting his hands on his hips, Bucky lets his head hang with a sigh. He didn’t enjoy having to berate the man in front of you, but he can at least take pride in the fact that your ex-fiancé will never bother you again thanks to him.

Bucky quietly makes his way back into your apartment and finds you carefully picking up the scattered shards of glass. You remain silent, even when he kneels down to help you, and he begins to worry that maybe he had gone too far.

“You okay?” He asks you in the softest tone he can manage. Your tired eyes peer up at him through wet lashes, and it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts before you can reply.

“Your glove came off,” you murmur quietly, and Bucky almost isn’t able to catch it.

“What?” He repeats before slowly turning his gaze to his left hand. Sure enough, his usual leather glove is missing and his metal hand is on full display. He swallows down the lump in his throat despite the building anxiety he feels, clenching and unclenching his fingers before looking back up at you. He must have lost it in the scuffle, and he’d been too engrossed in making his point clear to notice.

“That’s not a normal prosthetic arm… is it?” You feebly prompt him. Bucky refuses to meet your gaze and quickly stands himself upright before slowly backing away from you. He feels suffocated by his shame and his guilt, and as he takes in his surroundings he realizes that his worst fear is manifesting itself into reality right before his very own eyes.

He wordlessly leaves your apartment and swiftly locks himself back into his own living space. The walls are closing in around him, and Bucky can do nothing but let his anguish consume him.

He’d ruined everything.

~~~

You haven’t heard from Bucky in over a week and your knocks to his door go unanswered. You’re all alone again, and the isolation is suffocating.

You miss the man who had became a part of your daily routine and infiltrated your space with his kindness and warmth. You had fallen in love with him, your heart aching for him every time he was away, and now only a tightness in your chest remained in his absence. You hadn’t meant to embarrass him when pointing out his arm, and you meant what you said when you told him he had nothing to be ashamed of. Everything had happened so quickly you hadn’t had a chance to explain yourself, to explain that despite the fact that you knew everything, your opinion hadn’t changed of him.

Your meeting with Sam had led to a deep dive into the history of Captain America, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that your search had led you to a plethora of information on the hero’s close friend James Buchanan Barnes. You knew you should have stopped yourself from reading further and instead asked Bucky to explain everything to you instead, but once you started reading you couldn’t stop. You were overloaded with information about his time in the war, his relationship with Steve Rogers, his affiliation with Hydra as the Winter Soldier, and his role in the fight against Thanos. It overwhelmed you, but it did not deter you from the man or prompt you to end your friendship with him. You weren’t afraid of him, and you worked desperately to get him to see that.

You hold a freshly baked batch of cookies in one hand while the other relentlessly knocks on his front door. You’ve been at this for about a good five minutes, and though it has earned you annoyed looks from neighbors that pass by you in the hallway, you’re determined not to give up until he sees you.

“Bucky, please,” you beg in exasperation, knuckles beginning to turn red from the constant impact against the wood of the door. “I know you’re in there so please come out. I can’t take this anymore.”

You’re met with silence, but this doesn’t deter you in the slightest; you know he’s in there and can hear your pathetic pleas. What you don’t know, however, is that he’s leaned right against the door on the other side watching you through the peephole. His mind is filled with turmoil as one part of him screams to open the door and let you in while the other insists this is for the best. What good does he have to offer you as an ex-assassin? What kind of life can you live tied down to the Winter Soldier? Bucky can’t bring himself to put you through the torment and the danger that comes with being his partner, and he curses himself for ever letting you get close to him in the first place.

“I miss you,” he hears you relent, voice wavering as you fight back tears. “You’re my best friend.”

Bucky can physically feel his chest tighten at your confession, and it takes everything in him to not open the door. He doesn’t think he can stand the torture any longer, and he begins to move towards his bedroom only for your voice to stop him in his tracks.

“I know everything,” you utter gently, prompting his heart to leap anxiously in his chest at your confession. “I know that you were a Sargent in World War ll, and your best friend was Steve Rogers. I know you’re the Winter Soldier. I know… I know that in spite of all of that, you’re the kindhearted man who befriended the complete stranger that knocked on your door and asked for help to move a bookshelf. You’re more than your past, and it doesn’t scare me like you think it does. I… I love you.”

You let your forehead fall against the door and shut your eyes, waiting with bated breath for any sort of response or movement from the other side of the door. You’re given nothing, and it’s now that you start to realize your friendship with Bucky is most likely over. You slowly back away from the door and set the plate of cookies beside it before taking one last longing look at his apartment.

“I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore,” you finally sigh, turning to make your way back to your own apartment. However, the click of the lock turning causes you to freeze in your tracks, and you hesitantly turn around to face the man whose door you’ve been assaulting for the past ten minutes.

His blue eyes are glossy with tears that threaten to fall, and his tired features display the torment he’s endured while isolating himself from you. He looks at you almost in astonishment, and for a moment neither of you dares to move or speak. You don’t know what to say or how much he’d heard.

“You…” he starts to say before taking a nervous swallow. “You said you loved me?”

You manage to flash him a meager smile while anxiously stuffing your hands in your pockets and casting your sheepish gaze to the floor. “I thought that was obvious. Why else would I be showing up at your door all the time?”

A quiet laugh of disbelief leaves him at your words, and Bucky feels confident enough now to leave the doorway of his apartment and take a step closer towards you.

“So this,” he says while raising his left hand and flexing his fingers, “doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it when that very arm kept me safe?” You utter gently, taking another step closer so that the space between you grows smaller. You hesitantly bite the inside of your cheek before slowly raising your hand and offering it to Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air as he stares down at your outstretched fingers, his brows furrowing with uncertainty while he hesitantly clasps your hand in his artificial one.

The metal is cool against your palm and brings an instant sense of comfort as you lock your fingers together. You fit together perfectly as if your hand had been made for him, and a funny feeling tingles within his chest as Bucky comes to this realization.

“I’m sorry for shutting you out,” he professes earnestly, gently pulling you against his chest so that he can wrap his arms around your figure. “Everything felt too real, and I was terrified of the possibility that you might not want to be around me anymore.”

“You could never do anything to scare me away,” you assure him gently, your eyes full of sincerity as you peer up at him. “I meant what I said, Bucky. You’re my best friend, and I love you.”

“I love you too, doll,” he murmurs with an adoring smile. Using the tips of his metal fingers, Bucky gently angles your face so that he can meet your lips in a kiss. Your eyes immediately flutter shut as you melt against him and savor the feeling of being so close to the man you’d missed so dearly while you were apart.

It’s as if the rest of the world fades away while you share your tender embrace in the middle of the hallway where you’d first met months ago. You came to the city for a new start, but Bucky never would have guessed that your arrival would signal the start of his own new beginning.

A bookshelf brought you into each other’s worlds, and a kiss in the hallway would keep you together for the rest of your lives.

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader being the best couple for 10 minutes

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

compilation of funny moments based on this ask <3

when they got too into playing the wii…

“Get off of my side!” Y/n squealed, hitting Drew with her hip as the two of them stood in front of the TV waving their Wii remotes around wildly. Madelyn panned the camera around the room, Just Dance played on the screen and the couch filled with the Outer Banks cast as they watched the couple play.

“I’m not on your fucking side!” Drew laughed, wedging himself in front of y/n, essentially blocking her view of the screen. The two of them continued dancing, bumping into each other and giggling as the intense game continued.

“Get down, get down!” Y/n laughed, jumping on Drew’s back like the character’s on the screen, the room erupting into cheers as Drew held onto y/n’s legs. The two of them started giggling, their entire bodies shaking with laughter as the game ended and they fell to the ground in a heap.

when y/n interrupted drew’s beauty sleep…

“Are you filming?” y/n asked JD as he held her phone, camera focused on Drew’s soft, sleeping face. JD nodded, his small giggles audible as he zoomed in on Drew on the couch. Y/n waved to the camera before holding up the box of crackers in her hand.

“My name is y/n y/ln and today JD and I are going to find out how many crackers we can put on Drew’s face before he wakes up.” Y/n whispered, digging in the box and placing a cracker on Drew’s forehead. 

“One.” Y/n said. JD stifled his laughter as he handed the phone back to y/n, grabbing a cracker from the bag. With a dramatic flourish, JD gently placed a cracker on Drew’s ear, the man not even moving the slightest. 

“Two.” JD said. The two of them continued, passing the phone back and forth as they placed more and more crackers on Drew’s sleeping face.

“Four–” y/n giggled as she placed another cracker, “–teen.”

Drew let out a groan, his eyes blinking open slowly. He lifted his hand to his face, wiping one of the crackers away from his eyes as y/n and JD collapsed into laughter.

“What the fuck?” Drew grumbled as he lifted one of the crackers, examining it groggily before his lips curled into a confused smile.

“Fourteen,” y/n said to the camera. “Fourteen is the number of crackers we can put on Drew Starkey’s face before he wakes up!”

when they weren’t paying attention in an interview…

Drew and y/n sat next to each other, both of them staring at each other as Chase and Madelyn answered a question from the interviewer. The camera picked up Drew mouthing something to y/n, causing her arm to shoot out and grab him. Her movement a bit too quick, her already unstable chair wobbled, sending y/n tumbling to the floor with a squeal.

“Oh [bleep]!” Y/n swore, laughing as she climbed back into her chair. The entire cast turned around, their faces confused.

“What is going on back there?” Madison laughed, y/n smoothing her dress down as she settled into her seat.

“I have no idea. I am not involved.” Drew said, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“You are such a liar!” Y/n groaned, elbowing Drew lightly as he bit his lip, attempting to hold back laughter.

when y/n saw drew’s new hair…

“Ok, are you ready?” Drew asked, sneaking up behind y/n with his new platinum hair. Y/n stood with her back to Drew, nodding enthusiastically as Drew placed his hands on her hips. He had convinced her to film it under the guise that he was shaving it all off again, his hair getting quite long, but what he left out was that he was also bleaching it the color she had expressed her love for in the past.

“I already miss your long hair.” Y/n said with a faux pout as Drew ran his hands along her sides before spinning her around to face him.

“Oh my god!” Y/n gasped, her hands flying over her mouth. Drew smiled, tilting his head down so she could get a closer look at his short, icy hair.

“What do you think?” Drew asked, raising his eyebrows as y/n continued to look at him silently.

“You look like young President Snow.” Y/n giggled, her hands running along his head lightly.

“What?” Drew laughed, furrowing his brows as y/n continued to admire his hair.

“It’s a good thing. I promise. He’s hot, just like you.” Y/n said, biting her lip before pressing a kiss to Drew’s still very much confused face.

when they went to the club…

Madison filmed as Drew, Chase, and Austin danced in sync, grins on their faces as they danced humorously. She panned the camera around to y/n, who stood staring at them, her brows furrowed and a drink in her hand.

“I don’t think y/n likes it.” Madison laughed, causing y/n to grimace at the camera before turning back to the boys’ dramatic and embarrassing dance moves.

“Oh no, oh no!” Madelyn laughed as Drew danced over towards y/n, his eyes locked on her as he took her hand. Handing her drink off to Madison, y/n followed him as he spun her around, the two of them laughing as they stumbled along the dance floor. With a flair, Drew dipped y/n down, causing the rest of the cast to let out gasps before erupting with laughter.

“Drew!” Y/n squealed as he brought her back up to her feet, dancing around her with a smirk on his lips.

“How about that?” Drew said into the camera before grabbing y/n by the waist, spinning her around to pull her into his chest.

when they made a tik tok…

Y/n and Drew sat on the couch opposite each other, y/n holding her phone as they started their video:

“I’m passing the phone to the person who is always on their damn phone but never answers my texts.” Y/n said. The video cut to Drew, a smile on his lips.

“I’m passing the phone to the person who always has a stomachache.” Drew laughed.

“I’m passing the phone to the person who once got so drunk he fell asleep on the kitchen counter and—” y/n giggled, Drew gasping behind the camera, “Chase had to carry him back to his room.”

“Ok, so we’re doing that.” Drew said once he got the phone. “I’m passing the phone to the person who once farted so loudly—”

“Drew Starkey, no!” Y/n said off camera.

“...who once farted so loudly while we were babysitting my niece she made her cry.” Drew finished, laughing loudly, leaning off the couch. A loud crash sounded before the video abruptly cut to y/n, tears in her eyes as she keeled over in laughter.

“I’m passing the phone to the person who just spilled an entire bottle of wine on our brand new couch.” Y/n laughed, panning to the large, red stain on their couch before panning up to Drew, who was picking up the overturned bottle with a groan.

“I am the person who spilled an entire bottle of wine on our brand new couch.” Drew said with a thumbs up.

when they couldn’t get through a scene…

Y/n and Drew stood opposite each other, clad in swimsuits despite the freezing cold air around them. They were shooting a scene where their characters, Caroline and Rafe, shared an intense moment, Caroline following Rafe as he drunkenly stumbled down the beach

Take 1

“You can just [bleep] whoever you—” y/n said in character, but stopped once Drew’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh, sorry I forgot… not allowed to say that.” Y/n giggled.

Take 2

“You can just sleep with whoever you want and I’m just supposed to wait around for you?” Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Uh… yeah?” Drew furrowed his brows, turning to face her with a drunken smile on his face. Y/n tried her best to bite back a laugh but failed, her hand covering her mouth.

Take 3

“You can just sleep with whoever you want and I’m just supposed to wait around for you?” Y/n crossed her arms across her chest. Drew spun around, but misplaced his foot, causing him to stumble.

“[beep]!” Drew swore, catching himself just before he face planted into the sand.

Take 4

“You can just sleep with whoever you want and I’m just supposed to wait around for you?” Said with a huff.

“Uh… yeah.” Drew said, cocking his head to the side as he looked at y/n, a drunken smirk on his face. Y/n scowled, shaking her head.

“You’re an asshole, Rafe.” Y/n scoffed, biting her lip as she gazed at Drew with disgust. A shocked expression fell over Drew’s face, him taking a dramatic step backwards.

“An asshole?” Drew said incredulously, causing the two of them to break into giggles.

Take 5

“An ASS-hole?” Drew scoffed, y/n giggling.

Take 6

“An asshole?” Drew gasped, a smile wide on his face.

Take 7

“An asshole?” Drew scoffed, taking a step forward. Y/n took a step away from him, a look of disgust on her face.

“Yes, you’re an asshole. Don’t call me.” Y/n spat, turning on her heel and leaving Drew behind. He kicked at the sand in front of him, mumbling to himself lowly.

“Cut! We got it!” The director shouted, y/n turning back around and running full speed at Drew, tackling him into the sand.

when drew set off the smoke alarm…

Y/n wheezed behind the camera as she filmed Drew, a panicked expression on his face as the smoke detector blared in the background.

“Shit! Shit!” Drew laughed, reaching into the oven with a dish towel. He pulled the pizza (now burnt to a crisp) out before running through the apartment. Y/n followed him, stumbling with laughter as he flung the backdoor open before throwing the pizza onto the concrete.

“Oh my god!” Y/n squealed, dumping a glass of water onto the pizza. With a sizzle, the smoldering pizza melted into the patio.

“Holy shit.” Drew panted, leaning over to catch his breath as he looked down at the smoking pizza. Y/n continued laughing behind the camera, zooming in on Drew as he shook his head.

“You’re never cooking pizza again.” Y/n laughed, causing Drew to whip his head to the side and look directly into the camera, his mouth agape.

[nadvs]

the power play (part four)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

< prev

Rafe is at his best right before a game. His blades hit the ice, cold air fills his lungs, and for the next two hours, he needs to focus on only one thing: winning.

He circles the rink in line with his team, a quick warm-up before the visitors come on. The crowd’s cheers echo across the arena as he rips past the far penalty box, looking through the glass to see if you followed his advice to start coming to games again.

You did. He catches your smile, and his jersey on you, as he races by. He’s sure you’ve been even more chipper lately. If that’s possible.

You’d texted him after you woke up in his bed a few days ago: I bumped into Beck on my way out and he doesn’t approve of our relationship lol

He responded: Told you

He hasn’t heard from Emma, but at least he knows this act he’s putting on with you is affecting her. She wouldn’t have been looking over so much the other night if it wasn’t.

And if she was telling you the truth, that she still likes coming to games, she’s probably in the stands right now, watching him. She must still care, at least a little.

His grip on his stick tightens when he remembers that she left that frat party with another guy. And because the universe has a vendetta against him, he catches her in the spotty crowd, with that same guy’s arm around her.

He grits his teeth, rage rushing through him. He’ll just have to lay it on thicker with you and make it real obvious how much happier he is without her.

════════

“How are things going with you and Rafe?” Lyla asks, gently squeezing your arm as you sit together in the stands.

“Good,” you say, your eyes following Beck as he glides across the ice. You wish you could gush to her about how bothered he seemed to see you leaving Rafe’s room.

“Moving pretty fast if you’re already wearing his jersey,” she chuckles. “He’s nicer than I expected.”

You have to stifle a laugh. In front of Lyla, Rafe managed to come off as kind of a sweetheart.

“There’s a lot more to him than he lets on,” you respond. And you mean it. Although he has an aggressive exterior, you’ve seen glimpses of softness, of depth.

“He treats you well?” she asks.

You smile at her, appreciative that she’s looking out for you, ashamed that you’re lying about what you and Rafe really are.

“He does,” you say.

════════

From the moment the horn signals the start of the game, you tell yourself to watch who you’re meant to be here for – your supposed boyfriend.

Within minutes, it’s not a conscious decision anymore. You can’t take your eyes off of him, even if you tried.

Rafe is in another element. He doesn’t lose focus for a second. He sharply intercepts passes and doesn’t hesitate to throw himself where he needs to go. He’s fearless, giving and taking hits like he’s indestructible.

As you watch him and think about all that’s happened between you since he walked into that study room, you realize he’s not who you thought he was when you met him.

Emma was right about a few things, but the man is nowhere near pathetic. He’s not a trainwreck.

He’s complicated, and he hates it about himself, because the way he looked at you when he called himself fucked up the other night is something you can’t forget.

Near the end of the first period, Rafe is sent to the penalty box for cross-checking. He skates to the box with a scowl and sits on the bench to frustratingly tap his stick against the floor.

Scattered knocks rattle the glass behind him and he looks over his shoulder to see you’re trying to get his attention.

You’re pressing up your phone against the glass to show him a note on your screen, a reminder of his joke from the night at the bar.

Penalty Count is typed at the top, with 1 :( underneath it.

His anger dissipates, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk as his eyes dart up to yours from behind his helmet’s visor.

You’re wearing a bright smile and for the first time since he started playing hockey, he doesn’t entirely hate sitting in the penalty box.

════════

You walk into the study room the next day to see Rafe in his usual seat.

“You’re here already,” you tease, shutting the door behind you.

“You’re late,” he murmurs as he scrolls on his phone.

“No, you’re early.” You settle in your seat. “You must really love my company.”

He scoffs, but doesn’t deny it.

Truthfully, you’ve been looking forward to seeing him again. Even when he’s tightly wound, which is most of the time, you’re starting to enjoy being with Rafe.

You have a suspicion that he’s starting to enjoy being with you, too.

“So…?” you ask, eyes on the novel sitting in front of him. “What’d you think?”

“It was fine,” he says.

“Big deal coming from you,” you say. “Do you like reading yet?”

“No,” Rafe responds abruptly. “This one just wasn’t as boring. Things actually happen.”

“True,” you say, feeling triumphant nonetheless. “Have you checked your grades lately?”

He shakes his head. You pop open his laptop and see that the first essay you worked on together has been graded.

“An A,” you say happily. Rafe doesn’t know the last time he hit an A. He coasts on B’s and C’s and it’s been enough. “That’s amazing. See what happens when you apply yourself?”

“Alright, relax,” he says, although admittedly, telling Coach about this is going to feel really good.

You smile and shrug, then open the folder of essays you’ve worked on together. You tap on the most recent one to see a full page of small paragraphs.

“You liked the book and you wrote a whole page?”

“Didn’t say I liked it,” Rafe clarifies.

You start to look over his work. He usually finds quotes and very obviously pastes their meanings from online study guides, but at least he’s starting to put time and effort into it.

“I can tell you put more work in,” you say. You read over an excerpt near the end.

“There are times in life when the most comfortable thing is to do nothing at all.” Conway says this to the other travelers so they get used to a situation they can't change.

“This part has a lot of potential,” you say, pointing to the paragraph. “The discussion question is about how Conway’s personality affects his quest, so this would be a good point to work from. Can you relate to it?”

“To what?”

“To his adaptability,” you say.

“No.”

“So…” You tap your fingers. “The opposite? You’d say you’re not adaptable?”

He shrugs, guarded and distant.

You gaze at him curiously. You don’t even try to do it, but you do; you tug at his strings, all while smiling at him in that frustratingly pretty way.

“I think you are,” you observe. “You got used to these sessions pretty quickly. You obviously didn’t want to be tutored, and you really didn’t want to read, but you’re doing it. You could’ve been way more stubborn.”

Rafe glances down at the closed book. He never thought of himself that way. He’s always just noticed the flaws, the gaps. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he handles change better than he thought.

The same rush he felt at that frat party hits him. You stared at him in a way that made him think he was seconds away from being seen for who he really is. And you’re doing it again.

“It’s ‘cause you nag so much,” he says dismissively.

“Yeah, but you listen to my nagging,” you laugh. “I’m serious. Give yourself some credit. You could write about it for the reflection portion.”

You direct your attention back to the laptop.

Rafe looks at you again, watching you read, and he realizes that he can’t remember the last time someone pointed out something good about him the way that you just did.

════════

Near the end of the hour, you’re almost done the assignment. You glance at the time, sit up in your cushioned seat, and save the file.

“Try to finish this before the next session and then we can give it a final edit,” you say as you shut the laptop and slide it towards Rafe. “And start the next book if you can. It’s a good one.”

You hand him a paperback.

“I know the championship starts the weekend after next and it’s going to be midterm season,” you continue. “You’re going to be really busy. I’m here to support you, but I’m not writing anything for you.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, already well-versed with your I’m not doing work for you spiel. He turns to put the book in his bag, but you stop him.

“Wait. I have an idea. Can you pretend to read that real quick?” You pull your phone out of your pocket and tap the camera. “Girls post their boyfriends, right?”

After your encounter with Beck in the hallway, you’ve been riding a high. For whatever reason, he cares that you’re with Rafe. It’s given you a sense of power you’ve never felt. And it makes you want to test just how much you can get to him.

“Does it have to be me reading?” Rafe asks flatly.

“Your love for literature is what made me fall for you,” you fawn.

Rafe frowns, but he gives in. He opens the book and pretends to focus on a page, giving you the opportunity to snap a photo that looks candid. You type a heart into the caption and post it to your story.

“I wonder if Beck will watch it,” you murmur. “Or even care.”

“He will. He’s been shootin’ me looks since he saw you leave my room.”

You still.

“How did you not tell me this?” you say.

Rafe scoffs, “You already know he’s jealous.”

You don’t match his confidence, letting out a short hmph as you start to pack up your things.

“He could just be worried about me,” you mumble. “As a friend.”

“What the hell is there to worry about?”

You don’t want to tell him what Beck said, that he called Rafe intense. He would easily clue in that he didn’t mean it as a compliment.

“Not worried,” you say. “Confused. I just… I spent years getting my hopes up over him and I don’t want to keep doing it. I don’t know if he’s jealous, but I want him to think I’ve moved on.”

“For the tenth time, he’s jealous,” Rafe states, swinging his backpack over his shoulder as he stands. “You’re smart. You should know that.”

“Smart?” you beam. “That’s the first nice thing you’ve said about me.”

“And the last,” he says before he steps out of the room. He paces away slower than usual to make sure he hears you laugh.

You finish packing up and check your phone again. It’s satisfying to see that Beck already viewed your story, minutes after you posted it. You never knew a lie could feel this good.

════════

Two nights later, you’re at the campus arena for the last home game before the championship, sitting next to Lyla behind the net. As you expected, it’s harder to get good seats now that more spectators are attending.

The game is in full swing as you chat with your best friend about her upcoming joint birthday party. When you’d first talked about it a couple of months ago, you were excited to go back to her and Beck’s childhood home, which always felt like your childhood home, too, and to see all your old friends from high school.

You remember daydreaming about the party when Lyla had told you about it, and the way you’d wondered if by then, Beck would’ve asked you to be his girlfriend.

The more you’ve distanced yourself, the sadder you are that you hinged so much hope on him. It’s a painful wave every time, remembering the wasted years.

“My mom accidentally spoiled my present,” Lyla says, showing you a photo of a bracelet on her phone with a string of texts from her mother below it, frantically saying that she meant to send that to her dad.

“Oh, no,” you laugh. “It’s really pretty, though.”

“It is. I’m going to pretend I didn’t see it,” she says. “Are you still driving up with us? Or did you want to come with Rafe? My parents would love to meet him.”

“They know?”

Just a few days ago, you were proud of how convincing you’ve been, but the thought of the lie spreading to Lyla and Beck’s parents overshadows any satisfaction, making your stomach cold with guilt.

“My mom asked about you,” she replies. “I told her you’ve been seeing someone. You should bring him.”

Even though this is what you both agreed to, the thought of dragging Rafe to a party and surrounding him with strangers he’s expected to fool feels unfair.

He’d loathe every second. And you’re not sure how well you could lie to the people you grew up with that this brooding, prickly man has stolen your heart.

But not having Rafe with you when Beck’s around is more daunting than ever. You want to look secure. Happy. And it’d feel good for all your high school friends to see how hot your new boyfriend is.

And you should probably stop thinking about Rafe as hot.

“I don’t know,” you reply, looking out at the ice again, unsure if he’ll agree.

“Well, the invitation stands,” she says. “I’m not done vetting him.”

“I’ll see what he says,” you say with a laugh.

The seconds tick closer to the end of the last period. The opponents charge down the ice, a final effort to tie up the game and head into overtime.

Rafe is quick on his skates, ready to take on the charge, but when he gains possession of the puck, an opposing player rapidly checks him from the side.

He slams into the wall and drops to the ground. He’s not doing what he always does; he’s not getting back up, shoving the guy who shoved him.

You’re standing without even realizing you made the effort to, trying to see his face as his teammates and the referee surround him.

“What just happened?” Lyla says.

“Rafe got knocked down,” you answer, not expecting the tremble in your voice. “Really hard.”

Moments later, he stands, keeping his head down as the referee leads him off the ice. The collision was bad enough that he needs to leave. Worry wrings out your insides.

“I hope he’s okay,” she says.

You nod, your heart pounding loud, so loud that you can’t hear anything else going on around you.

════════

You’d normally hang out with Lyla after a game, but you can’t ignore the worry sitting in the pit of your stomach. You tell her you’ll stay at the arena to make sure Rafe is alright, and meet her at her dorm after.

You’re standing outside the double doors that lead into the home team’s block, the volume in the main hall starting to slowly drop as spectators pool out. Every time the doors squeak open, you’re disappointed when you see it’s not him.

When you eventually meet Beck’s eyes, sorrow and happiness cling to you, a confusing mix of all the things he’s made you feel over the years.

“Hey,” you say, your voice thin as he comes through the doors. “Is he okay?”

“He was just getting checked out,” Beck tells you. His eyes drift down for a moment, no doubt noticing Rafe’s jersey on you. “He should be out soon.”

Your eyes widen in relief when you spot Rafe pushing through the door, his duffle bag hanging from his shoulder, his hair damp and messy.

You step towards him and for the first time, the embrace you give him isn’t for show. It’s genuine.

“That guy was an asshole,” you say, your cheek pressed against his chest as he leans over to meet you halfway in the hug. His hand glides over the small of your back. “He didn’t have to slam into you that hard.”

“Stupid’s a bad word, but you can say asshole?” Rafe mumbles.

You snort a laugh and pull back. Rafe notices Beck, the reason you’re touching him like this, watching from behind you.

“Did it hurt?” you ask.

“No,” he lies, his shoulder still throbbing, his pride too loud to silence. “Just came outta nowhere.”

“Did they find anything they’re worried about?” you ask. “A concussion or…?”

Rafe notices that Beck steps away, his lips in a tight line, looking like he just realized he isn’t a part of this conversation, clueless to the fact that it’s only happening because he’s there.

“No,” Rafe answers. He leans a little closer, his gaze sweeping past your shoulder. “He left.”

Your brows pull together in confusion.

“I’m not here for him.”

Rafe stares down at you. Your words, and how simply you said them, tighten the knot in his chest.

He’s still trying to catch up with everything that happened in the last half hour, so the unwelcome confusion of why his legs are suddenly weak, of why an unexpected thrill is consuming him when you look up at him like that, just adds to the chaos in his mind.

“It was nothing,” he finally says.

You take in his tense expression. It’s like he’s in shock that you care so much. You thought by now he knew. Did he think you didn’t mean it when you said you wanted to be friends?

“Okay,” you say. “So, I may have spiralled a little, but in my defense, that was scary. If you were concussed, I really would have to do your work for you.”

Rafe doesn’t understand how you make him smile before he even realizes it’s happening. It’s alarming at this point.

“Good game,” you tell him. “Other than that one part.”

He’s stuck in place as he watches you walk away with his last name draped across your back.

════════

It’s Monday evening and the campus dining hall is growing busier as you finish up your dinner. Your eyes travel over the words in your book, blocking out the noise around you.

When you stand to pack up, you see a figure approach from the corner of your eye. You look up and recognize her. Emma’s friend, Gabby offers a disingenuous smile.

“Hey,” you say, the word coming out like a question.

“Hi,” she replies flatly, not nearly as friendly as she was when you first met her a few weeks ago. She tucks her hair behind her ear, fidgeting before she speaks again. “Are you and Rafe really a thing?”

You can’t imagine she’s asking to satisfy her own curiosity. Emma must want to know, too. And you’re prepared to lie through your teeth.

“Yeah,” you say. “Why?”

“Were you waiting for them to break up or something?” she asks with a chuckle devoid of any real amusement.

You realize she must think you’d had your sights set on Rafe while he was in a relationship, swooping in once he was single.

“I didn’t know they were together until I met you guys,” you say. “And the first time I even talked to him was the day after that.”

“He was begging for her back like, two nights before then,” she reminds you, the implication heavy. You knew this was a risk going into it. You look like his rebound.

“Yeah, but then he met me,” you say with a soft laugh.

“Lucky you,” Gabby scoffs.

Rafe had confided in you about how much it bothered him that his ex’s friends never approved of him. If you weren’t sure you truly cared about him, you are now. Agitation pricks at you. You have no desire to be nice to this girl.

You collect the rest of your things, disinterested in carrying on the conversation. Regardless, you need to play your part, to act careless and confident. But she doesn’t leave.

“How could you want him after what Emma said?” Gabby mutters.

“Most people would say the kind of stuff she did after a messy break-up,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug.

“What does he say about her?”

“He doesn’t bring her up,” you lie.

Every word will get back to Emma. You remind yourself of what Rafe said when you first agreed to do this. Make it look like we’re better off without them.

“He did say once that now he can see what it’s like to actually be happy with someone,” you say, “but that’s it.”

Gabby’s visibly irritated, saying nothing else before she walks away.

You text Rafe the moment she’s out of your sight: Your ex’s friend just asked me how serious our relationship is

He replies almost instantly: What did you say

You tell him that you’re on your way to your dorm room if he wants to talk in person. He tells you he’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

════════

Rafe’s still frustrated that the team’s physical therapist told him he needs to skip practice for the next week, which benches him for the first championship game.

He’s even more frustrated that his shoulder keeps radiating in pain, days after he took that hit on the ice. He’s been hurt countless times before, but an injury has never bothered him for this long. And never right before such an important stretch of games.

So, hearing that something’s going right, that Emma must’ve sent her friend to you to get information, gives him the boost he needed.

You answer your door with the bright smile that’s seemingly always on your face.

“Boyfriend!” you say happily. “Come in.”

He sighs to feign annoyance, but his smile gives him away. He walks into your dorm room and sits in your desk chair.

“So, turns out we’re really good at this,” you tell him, settling on your bed with a bounce. “I ran into Gabby and she was all like, are you really with him? And I was like, yeah, and then she implied that I waited for you guys to break up to swoop in on you.”

“What a joke,” he chuckles.

“And she asked me if you’ve talked about Emma. I said you only said that now you can see what it’s like to actually be happy.”

He flashes an impressed grin. Emma will hate hearing that. After everything she’s done to him, it’s a win to know that this will mess with her.

“I take it that was a good answer?” you ask.

“No shit,” he laughs. He scratches his jaw, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Anything else?”

“Not really.”

Rafe’s stomach twists when your eyes dart away.

“No?” he says, a note of accusation in his tone.

You’d already decided that you wouldn’t echo the cruel things his ex said, how she’d laughed over the fact that he called her in tears. There’s no point in kicking him when he’s down.

But there’s also no point in being dishonest. He’s either great at calling you out on your bullshit or you’re terrible at lying to him or it’s a winning combination of the two.

“She seemed confused that I wanted to date you after I heard what Emma said about you,” you relent. “And before you ask, I already told you I won’t repeat it.”

Rafe stiffens, a palpable shift in his demeanor, his mood turning on a dime right in front of you. You’re used to it by now.

“Just be straight with me,” he says.

“It’s not important,” you reply. “She obviously got her friend to talk to me. That’s what matters.”

Rafe sharply whispers your name, his voice dripping with irritation as he rubs his forehead.

“What?” you sigh.

“I bet whatever she said to you was shit she already said to me before.”

“So, then what’s the point of me saying it?”

“Why are you being like this?” he asks sharply, his face contorted in frustration, his blue eyes hard with anger.

You cross your arms, blinking slowly. You won’t fight his fire with your own. He’s brokenhearted and you know how fragile it feels to be in that state, because you’ve been living in it yourself for far too long.

And you refuse to tell him something that would just hurt and embarrass him.

“You’re done with her, right?” you say. “You don’t need to hang onto her words. It’s for your own good.”

Rafe shakes his head again, knees bouncing as he stares at the floor.

It’s infuriating that you think you know what’s best for him. You have no idea what his fights with Emma were like. He can stomach what she said about him and he hates that you think he can’t. As if he’s weak.

He’s gotten this far in his life without anyone trying to protect him like you are right now, and the last thing he needs is your pity. He’s already had a rough day and the spur to make you feel just as bad as he feels is an impulse he can’t curb.

“Might as well end this, then,” he mutters. “They’re both jealous. We got what we wanted.”

He watches the light leave your eyes, the dissatisfaction bristle over your face. He should have known that someone like you would eventually run out of hope in him. It was inevitable that once you looked too hard, you’d be disappointed.

You pout, exhaling a humorless laugh. His spiteful words are a sucker punch. And you’re sure he knows that.

“End it? Right when it starts working?” you say. You sigh, your shoulders sinking. “Okay. We’ll say it was just a fling that fizzled out. Easy-out clause. Like we agreed.”

Rafe’s lips screw up in discontented annoyance before he storms out of your room, leaving you with an empty feeling you didn’t know he was capable of giving you.

next >

author’s note there will absolutely be grovelling in the next part 🙂‍↕️

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[fictionalmenxyn]

hi can you write please rafe x wife, happily married. Rafe being away for business trip. Texting and calling wife missing her, sending her flowers while hes away. maybe phone sex. Coming home after a week bearing giftsfor her and kids and then fucks her.

Of course I can!! Enjoy!!

❣︎𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐈’𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞❣︎

Pairing: dad!husband!rafe x mom!wife!reader

Your children: Cody (3), Morgan (1) and Toby (5 months).

Warnings: smut!, p in v, no mentions of protection (wrap it up!), Rafe being sweet and loving durning sex

•❣︎❣︎❣︎•

While Rafe was away, for the Cameron Development, he missed you. Terribly missed you… constant ‘I love you so much’ ‘gonna kiss you sm when I come back’ ‘miss having you on me’ ‘missing u and the kids so bad rn’ ‘can u ft real quick??’ Every day since he left.

But today was the day, he was coming home.

The boys helped you, or rather watched you, make a small welcome home sign for Rafe. The boys added their touches, of their scribbles. It read ‘Welcome home Daddy! We missed you!’ Thankfully your artsy skills showed. And the help of Pinterest of course.

So, when you heard the door open. You quickly whisper “Cody, hold the sign for daddy, quick.” Cody held up the sign with pride. You handed Morgan a box of chocolates for Rafe. You picked up Toby, holding him on your hip. You guided the two boys to the foyer. Where Rafe stood. He smirked and put his bags down “hey family!”

The boys ran over, completely dropping everything to go get lovings from their father. You laughed at their reactions. You walked over. Kissing Rafe on the cheek “hey, Rafey, how was work??” He sighed with a smile “exhausting, but worth it…”

Rafe picked up both of the boys, he playfully asked “you two behave for momma??.” They both nodded. He smirked “oh really?? So you did behave, hm?” Cody spoke “yes! We be good!” He smiled softly. He kissed both of the boys cheek. He set them back down on the floor. I turn to you, taking Toby out of your arms and holding him with his strong arm. His free hand placed on your hip, his thumb brushing your leggings. He moved his hand to your lower back and pulled you closer. Pecking your lips he moved “god, I’ve missed this…”

…

Once Rafe was settled back in. He had started to hand out his gifts to the boys. Of course you held Toby in your lap as he handed you Toby’s gifts. You smile, it was so sweet that Rafe would do this when he went away.

You looked to Cody and Morgan and spoke “what do you say to daddy for the gifts??” Both of the kids spoke “tank you!” Rafe chuckles, ruffling their hair “you’re welcome, kiddos…”

Rafe looked to you, “you have gifts too, babe…” you smiled “you didn’t have to, Rafe…” “oh but I wanted to, and I did, so here…” he placed a navy box on your lap. “It’s only a small something… you know I have another gift for you, later…”

You playfully rolled his eyes at the stubble innuendo. You open the box. Cody walked over and rested his head in your knee. Cody asked “what momma got?” You smiled at the gift. “Your dad got me a very pretty necklace, bud…” you looked to Rafe “thank you, baby…” he smiled “anything for you… I uh, also called Rose… she’s picking up the kids in an hour…”

…

Now… here you both are… completely naked to each other. Rafe already on top of you and in you.

He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to him. He smiled as he sat up, sitting back on his knees. He placed a hand on your lower stomach. “God I’ve missed this… you and I, in our bed… my cock all the way in you… taking all of me so easily… fuck…” you moaned softly.

He slowly started to move in and out. Wanting to take his time, savouring the feeling of you both in this moment. He reached up and held you one hand. Gently squeezing your hand. “God you feel so good…” you moved your other arm around his shoulders. Wanting to be closer. Rafe let you pull him closer. Moving feeling in you, causing him to deeply groan. “Fuuuccckk..” you gasp softly. He kissed your cheek as he picked up the pace ever so slightly.

He looked into your eyes, “missed you, baby…” you looked into his eyes “missed… you too…” he gently pushed his lips into yours. Kissing you hungrily but softly. His tongue soon shoved into your mouth. Your tongues danced, he picked up his pace again. He groaned into the kiss. Causing you to moan into his lips.

He pulled back, his hands moving under your thighs and pushing them up. Your legs lifted into a V shape. Helping him move better and deeper. “Fuck, baby… feel so fucking good… missed this pussy so much…” you moaned.

His lips soon find your chest. Kissing you as he picks up the pace. Your head tilts back into the soft pillows. The wetness and gasps of breath fills the space of your master bedroom.

Rafe puts your one leg over his shoulder as the other flies around his hips. He held your waist as he tilts his head back and groans loudly. His eyes now half-lidded. He looks down at you “you look so good under me, baby, you’re unreal…” “ohhh fuck Rafe!” “That’s it… say my name…”

You gasped, tightening around him. He smirked “fuck, you close? I can feel you… you’re doing so good f’me… can you hold off for a little longer…? Wanna finish with you, baby…” you nod. He moans when he feels your nails drag on his shoulder. It wasn’t hard, but it hit a good nerve in him. Causing him to twitch in you. You moan…

He was close, “fuck, finish with me, yeah?” You nod rapidly “yesss, Rafey!” He moans “go ahead, baby, finish f’me…”

He goes a little harder, his thrusts fast and harder. Causing you to finish around him. That triggers his own release. Coming inside of you. He slowly his movements.

He drops in top of you, he would usually go for another round with you. But being gone for a week wore him out. He rests his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes. His breathing ragged, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure. He speaks between breaths “you… good?… fuck… missed this..” he pecks you lips as you nod. “Yeah, I’m… okay…”

After that, he picks you up and starts to run a bath. The night wasn’t completely over. He still has to cuddle with you. Make up for the time he was away for business. And after having the most loving sex he just had. Movies and cuddles with his wife and mother of his kids sounded great. Loving her was great.

•❣︎❣︎❣︎•

[sungstars]

bedrock | loser!jisung x fem!reader

i.e after jisung went down on you for the first time… he just can’t get enough!!!

authors note: PART TWO OF FALL OFF!! i hope it is up to everyone’s standards <3 I HAD SOOO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS LOLLLL i really hope you guys enjoy !! i feel a bit insecure abt postin it...

word count: 1.5k (not proof read)

content warning: unprotected sex, switch!jisung, unprotected sex, creampie, use of sex toys, lmk if i missed anything!!

jisung couldn’t get enough of you. ever since that night where he went down on your for the first time, he needed more.

whether it was laying between your thighs for hours, lapping at your cunt and making you finish over and over or fingering you on the couch during a movie.

countless nights passed where you've offered to return the favor, but jisung declines.

he always passes it off as he just wants to focus on pleasing you, but of course, you didn't buy it.

the real reason was because every time jisung got you off, he would always cum in his pants before you even finished once. it was so embarrassing that he would bust in his pants like a fucking virgin.

everything about you was just so intoxicating though. your scent, the way you tasted, your moans, and praises. how could he honestly not finish in minutes?

which led him to his dilemma right now. sweat matted his hair to his forehead, his entire body felt so fucking sticky and warm.

it was all your fault. you dragged him to the dumb skating rink in your stupidly short tennis skirt that left little to the imagination.

he couldn’t even focus on skating when he knew there were more than just his eyes on you, fuck, he couldn’t even take his eyes off of you.

his eyes almost popped out of his fucking skull when you bent down to fasten the buckles on your skates, the outline of your cunt peeking through the thin material of your underskirt.

said skirt flailed around when you moved on your inclines, showing jisung all of your cute tricks you learned from years of roller skating and also the bottom of your ass.

jisung had the most raging boner for the last hour and a half. cheeks flushed and ears a burning red that he blamed on the skating and his once again, awful attire of a hoodie and sweatpants.

you paid him no mind when he would basically whimper whenever the two of you came into contact on the floor.

if jisung could look past the part of how turned on he was, it was really endearing to watch you have so much fun.

after another hour of skating, you were tuckered out and wanted nothing more than go home and shower.

jisung was more than happy to comply. he needed a fucking shower and the chance to beat off one good time.

being the gentleman he was, he offered to let you shower first, but also for selfish reasons.

you took longer in the shower which gave him the opportunity to get some sort of release from this god awful erection.

when he was sure you were in the shower, he reached for the top shelf in your shaded closet and pulled down one of his shoe boxes.

it’s been so long since he had to use anything but his hand, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

thank you jeno for working at a sex store last christmas.

if jisung had any room to feel embarrassed for pulling out a pocket pussy that’s skin tone replicated yours, he definitely would’ve.

however, he needed to fuck something more than he needed to feel embarrassed. so he’ll worry about that later.

tripping over his own feet trying to get to the bed and his joggers down his hips, he let his cock hit his abdomen with a wet smack from the precum already dribbling down his tip.

he hurriedly grabbed the bottle of lube you guys kept in one of the nightstands, squeezing an unnecessary amount onto his hand and wrapping it around his dick.

small moans left his plush lips as he stroked himself, a chill running down his spine from the borderline ice cold lube.

his back arched slightly into the bed after a few strokes, feeling that knot already forming in his stomach.

“fuck,” he whimpered, moving his hand and sliding the toy down his cock, “fuck fuck fuck.”

the toy felt so tight and nice around his cock. you would be even better than this stupid toy, he knew it.

the way you clenched down on his fingers when they opened you up. . . jisung could only imagine how your cunt would spasm on his dick.

your pretty whimpers when he’d push into you, trying to fit all of his cock into you, how you’d probably try to run from it, oh he needs you so so badly.

another moan escaped his lip when he began to pick up his pace fucking the toy, thinking of all the nasty ways he would ruin you.

“mmfh,” jisung whimpered, his toes curling slightly at the thought of filling you up and fucking his cum back into you.

god. . . he doesn’t think he can go without—

“having fun without me?”

jisung’s eyes shot open, a flush immediately taking over his face as he saw you standing over him, one hand clutching your towel over your naked body.

he opened his mouth and closed it a few times, trying to form a sentence yet nothing came to mind.

you didn’t say anything either, opting to nudge his hand from the toy and putting your own on it, starting to slowly move it up and down his cock.

“thinkin’ of me?” you teased, “why use this when you coulda just fucked me instead, ji?”

he dug his fingers into his palms, whimpering for the nth time this night, “t-too nervous. don’t wanna cum too quick cause you’re s-so pretty.”

an endearing smile cascaded across your features, “you wanna fuck me ji?”

the raven haired boy nodded his head, lip caught between his teeth to stop his little noises as you used the pocket pussy on him. it was so hot, him using a pocket pussy to think of you.

why should he use this when he has the real thing right in front of him?

you stopped your movements, completely removing the toy from his cock and watching his body tense up from the cold air hitting his cock that looked red and angry.

placing the toy on the bed, you unwrapped your towel and adjusted yourself to sit on jisung’s lap.

the tip of his cock catching your clit, causing you to hiss and jisung groan. his whole body was still so tense, your poor boyfriend.

grabbing the base of his cock, you slowly pushed the tip into your cunt, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning.

“fuck,” the boy whined, “so so tight and warm.”

you sunk further down, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix and you placed your hands on his chest.

grabbing the fabric of his t-shirt, you bounced slowly on his cock, “you’re soo big jisung, fuck. i cant believe y-you’ve been holding out on fucking me.”

his hands grabbed your hips, forcing you up and slamming you back down on his cock harshly. you wanted to scream, his cock reaching all these spots in you that you didn’t know could be touched.

his pretty flushed face and hooded eyes looking up at you as he fucked you on his cock like you were his pocket pussy.

“you feel so good,” he said as he watched your tits bounce in his face, “look so good too. f-fuck, i cant believe i’ve been so nervous to fuck such a perfect girl.”

without waiting on a response, he flipped the two of you over and threw your legs over his shoulders causing you to yelp.

he pushed his hips into yours at a brutal pace, cock hitting your spongey spot over and over. one of his hands coming down to rub your clit roughly, lips raising ever so slightly into a smile at your wails.

tears welling up in your eyes at the pleasure, one of your hands wrapped around his forearm as you let out a string of moans. jisung was so interesting, one moment withering under your touch and the next, treating you like nothing but a fucking toy.

“j-ji,” you squealed, digging your nails into his skin, “i-i’m about to fuckin—”

your walls practically spasmed as you reached your peak, crying out jisung’s name which pushed him over the edge as well.

jisung thrusted shallowly into you, cum still spurting into your cunt and starting to spill out, kissing your neck gently as the two of you came down.

when you whined from over sensitivity, jisung pulled out and gave you a sweet kiss before collapsing next to you.

“can’t believe you held on fucking me within an inch of my life ‘cause you were scared of underperforming,” you whispered, tracing shapes on jisung’s chest, “and now i need to shower again.”

jisung hummed, turning over on his side to look at you, “i was thinking i should eat you out then fuck you ‘till i can make you squirt.”

“you fuck me once and suddenly you have all the confidence in the world?”

“i wanna fuck you ‘till we break the bed like bella and edward.”

you shook your head as you pulled your boyfriend down into another kiss.

it was going to be a long night.

END

[eclipseslayer]

SIT. DRINK.

➭ TOJI FUSHIGURO X F!READER SMUT ONESHOT

➭ SUMMARY: Your dad calls you over to sit in front of him, and he orders you to finish off his beer. Enthused with your obedience, he takes advantage of that.

➭ CW: DARK CONTENT. Incest, forced drinking, cockwarming, deep throating, Toji is meanish, Toji calls you 'kid' and 'sweetheart'.

➭ WC: 1.5kish

➭ A/N: Hello! I've done a drabble with icky!dad!Toji before, and honestly I really like doing them... so I'm wondering if I should make a series/compilation or something with icky!dad!Toji?? 👀 lmk in the comments or my ask box!! :) N e wayz enjoyyy.

"Come 'ere. Sit."

Toji points at the floor in front of him with his beer bottle, and you look up from your book you're reading.

Your eyes widen and you swallow thickly, knowing your dad wants something. It always puts a little fear in you, because your dad is disgusting. He's a grumpy, divorced, old man who got stuck with some kid out of wedlock, who happened to be you, so now he treats you like some sort of object, something to be used.

As much as you loathe him for it, a part of you actually loves it, though you don't think you'd ever admit that to yourself, at least, not out loud.

You close your book, and you get up. You slowly walk over to him, carpet brushing against the soles of your feet as you drag them, trying to take your time as you walk over to the old man.

Toji sees you taking your sweet time and he scoffs. He points to the floor again, and his beer sloshes in his bottle.

"I said, sit," his tone is harsher this time, almost spitting out his words.

With a huff, you nod and you pick up your pace. You then plop yourself onto your knees in front of your dad, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, already knowing what he wants.

He leans back against the couch to get a good view of you. A wry grin appears etched onto his face as that scar of his quirks up, and those green eyes of his darken while a drunken gaze drinks in the sight of you.

His gaze makes you nervous, as you hardly ever know what he wants from you. You know you're here to be used, but you just don't know how, and that's what makes you so nervous. His jade eyes always make your heart thump in your chest as they always have something conniving cooking.

Suddenly, he thrusts his bottle out to you and he presses the glass opening of it against your lips. You blink quickly as you catch a quick whiff of the beer—cheap, and wheaty—and look back up at him.

"Drink. Finish this off for me."

"I—" You're about to try to defend yourself, as you're not looking to drink tonight, but your dad tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly. He reaches out and grips the root of your hair with his free hand and pushes your mouth against the tip of the glass bottle, forcing it into your mouth.

"I said, drink. Jesus, are you having a hard time hearing me tonight?" He mutters, and his words slur, clearly drunk.

You let out a whine and a grumble and you tilt your head back, allowing for the liquid to pour into your throat. There's about a half of the bottle left, so Toji makes you chug it, and he watches with narrowed as eyes as you drink.

"There we go... good girl..."

Fuck. You hated it when he praised you. He only praised you whenever you did his "evil" bidding, which is why you didn't mind doing it so much. You loved the praise, and he knew it, which is why you're so obedient to him. It's a constant cycle of you needing praise, and receiving it after you do something for him, and, you couldn't get enough. Sometimes, some of the things he made you do felt so good that you truly hadn't minded at all.

It was toxic, but... you honestly couldn't get enough of it, which is also why you hadn't moved out of the house yet.

His praise was addicting.

Once you finish the beer, your mouth leaves the bottle with a satisfying pop, and Toji hums. He runs a hand through your hair and sighs as he places the empty bottle with the rest of them, on the stand next to the couch.

He pats your face with a large, calloused hand and sighs, leaning against the couch again. His large frame takes up the majority of it, and his thick long legs are spread out in a man-spread.

He reaches down into his pants and you hear the faint sound of scratching. He yawns, looking at the TV briefly before turning his head back to you. You look at him, awaiting further instructions, and he chuckles, and you assume another idea has popped into his head.

"You got an oral fixation, right, sweetheart?" He slurs, and, honestly doesn't care if you do or not as he starts pulling down his sweatpants, the hem of them fits around his thighs so well.

"I... yes, I do," you reply, watching him as he now takes his hand and slides down his underwear around his thighs, as he reveals his, big, hard cock, sitting heavily on his stomach.

Toji raises an eyebrow and he hiccups. He nods and sighs. "That's right... I knew ya did, kid. I know you like suckin' on my dick, but you just don't wanna admit it, right?" He grins, and he watches as you shift on your knees, your gaze averting his. His grin widens.

"Ah, knew it," he sighs, and he leans forward with his cock in one hand, and presses the tip against your mouth, and, so willingly, you open it up for him, accepting him into your mouth.

He groans once he feels your warm, wet mouth, and he closes his eyes, leaning his head back. He takes a minute before he looks down at you.

"Just keep your mouth like this for me while I watch TV. I'll get you a fuckin' candy bar or somethin' if you suck me off," he chuckles, and you furrow your eyebrows because he still treats you like a little kid, rewarding you with dumb shit.

Nevertheless, you sigh, accepting this as you keep him in your mouth. Not like you're going to complain anyway. This was one of your favorite things to do for your dad, simply because it just felt so good to have something so thick fill up your mouth.

So, you sit for awhile as he leans back against the couch, watching TV. You don't move your mouth—just enjoying how good he feels—for about ten minutes until you feel your jaw start to hurt.

That's when you start moving your head, pushing your mouth all the way to his pelvis, and then pulling back until you're suckling on his tip.

Toji groans at this and turns his head back to you. He sighs, and he grips your hair, and begins guiding your wet mouth along his cock.

He revels in the feeling of your mouth, enjoying how tight and warm it gets when you hallow your cheeks, and when you do that little thing with your tongue.

His head leans back, looking down at you as he admires how good you look, sucking on his cock. Sure, it was wrong, but that was why he drank, to get the mental block out of his head so he could easily get his dick wet. You were never one to say no. Hell, he wasn't sure why you were so easy, but he wasn't going to knock the opportunity.

You, on the other hand, are having such a good time as you moan softly on his cock, loving the feeling of how good he feels in your mouth. He feels so good that you're drooling on his cock, making a mess of it all over his length. You soon add your hand to the mix, pumping the length of his shaft while your mouth drools all over the tip, licking and sucking so fervently that it has Toji cursing under his breath.

"Shit, kid, fuck, your mouth does such a good job..." He groans and a big hand grips your hair tightly once more, guiding you along his cock, except, he decides to cruelly change the pace up, making it so his cock hits the back of your throat.

You let out a gag in surprise, your eyes widening and your hands quickly move to grip his thighs. His thick cock bullies into the back of your throat as you let out choked moans.

Saliva coats his dick, and drips down to his balls as you're uncontrollably salivating all over him, simply because that big tip of his bruises the back of your throat, allowing for no control over your mouth.

He groans with almost every thrust, and his breath gets heavy. He chuckles as he sees you struggle to take him, your hands gripping his thighs so tightly that he finds it so hilarious as he lets out yet another mean chuckle.

"That's right... gonna cum in this mouth, yeah? How's that for ya?" He grins wickedly, and, with one, two, three more thrusts, he slams your nose against his pelvis, leaving you choking on his dick as his cum suddenly spurts into your mouth. Load after load fills your throat, and you swallow it quickly.

Your nose scrunches up at the taste, as it damn near tastes like battery acid from the amount of beer he just had. You want to choke it up, but you know better, and so you swallow each spurt of cum until he rips his cock out of your throat.

He watches with a satisfied gaze as you choke for air, leaning over his thighs.

"Good girl." He reaches down into his pants pocket and fishes out a couple yen bills. "Go buy a candy bar at the corner store or somethin'. I don't fuckin' know."

[heliosunny]

Yandere! Phainon with clumsy and shy! Reader where he's the popular kid because of his charming looks and skills, meanwhile reader is just a normal student but has a crush on him. Wanting to make a move, they tried all kinds of tactics in order to get his attention like creating a bento for him, etc. (but failed miserably cause they didn't know how to cook and his fanclub would always get ahead of them everytime they tried to proceed with their plans of getting his attention) so in the end, they just sighed, starting to give up.

But little did they know that Phainon had already have his attention on them from the very start—also noticing everytime reader attempted to start a conversation with him (secretly looking forward to it) but before they even started walking towards him, he had already been cornered by his annoying fanclub who wouldn't stop bugging him, watching the look of defeat on reader's face from the corners of his eyes. In the end, he decided to make the first move of talking with them in a quiet corner after school... (Since even he had enough of seeing reader's attempts failing)

Oh and about the not-so-goodlooking-bento, Phainon couldn't help but chuckle at their attempt when he saw it being on his desk (he would always secretly chuckle in amusement everytime he'd see reader's defeated face everytime they failed)

Did he eat it? Of course not, but he appreciated their gesture.

Yandere!Phainon x Clumsy!Reader

The school bell rang, signaling the start of another monotonous day. Students bustled through the hallways, voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of gossip, laughter, and hurried conversations. Among them stood you, fidgeting with the bento box in your hands.

After countless failed attempts: spilled drinks, tripping over your own feet, and being intercepted by Phainon’s overly enthusiastic fan club,... You had made up your mind. You would give him the bento you had prepared last night, even if your cooking skills were… less than stellar.

From afar, Phainon stood effortlessly in the spotlight. Whether in academics, sports, or simply existing, he had an uncanny ability to charm everyone around him. Even now, he was surrounded by a flock of admirers, his usual cool expression barely hiding his impatience as they clamored for his attention.

No matter how hard you tried, Phainon was always out of reach. It felt as though fate itself had conspired against you, throwing obstacle after obstacle in your path. Still, you clutched the bento tighter, mustering what little courage you had left.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward. One step. Two steps. You were almost there—

“Phainon! Can I sit with you for lunch today?”

“Phainon, look! I brought you something special~!”

“Phainon, do you need help with your notes? I made extra copies!”

Just like that, you were blocked, left standing awkwardly at the edge of the crowd. Your shoulders slumped. The hope you had built up crumbled to dust. Maybe… maybe this was a sign. Maybe it was time to give up.

Unnoticed by the crowd, Phainon stole a glance in your direction. He had seen everything—the hesitant steps, the nervous grip on the bento, the way your expression fell the moment the fan club swooped in.

----

A quiet chuckle almost escaped him as his gaze flickered downward. A small, slightly misshapen bento box sat neatly on his desk. The presentation was… lacking, to say the least, but it was endearing in its own way.

You were adorable, really—so persistent, so genuine, even in your failures. It made him wonder just how long you were willing to keep this up before completely giving up.

But he wouldn’t let you.

---

The next morning, you arrived at school earlier than usual for class duty. You stretched your arms before grabbing the broom, ready to start cleaning before the usual chaos of the day began.

As you swept the floor, you heard the faint creak of the classroom door opening. Startled, you turned around, only to freeze in place.

Phainon stood there, casually leaning against the doorframe.

Your heart skipped a beat.

What was he doing here this early? There was no reason for him to be at school before anyone else.

"Morning" he greeted.

You swallowed, gripping the broom tightly. "M-Morning."

His lips quirked upward slightly as his eyes flickered to the cleaning supplies. "You’re on class duty today?"

You nodded, unsure of what else to say.

To your surprise, he walked further inside, plucking an unused rag from the desk. "I’ll help."

"You don’t have to—"

"I want to."

And just like that, the two of you cleaned in comfortable silence. It felt… oddly fun. He wasn’t as untouchable as he seemed from afar. He cracked a few lighthearted jokes. You found yourself laughing.

For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

But that moment shattered the second the school started filling with students.

"Phainon?! What are you doing here so early?"

"Oh my god, did you wait for us?"

"That’s so sweet!"

Panic shot through you. You instinctively took a step back, gripping the broom tightly. The last thing you needed was to be caught in the middle of whatever chaos they were about to stir up.

Phainon’s gaze flickered toward you, almost as if he could sense your hesitation. But before he could say anything, you turned on your heel, muttering, "I should finish up before homeroom starts."

Class began as usual, the room settling into a quiet hum as the teacher scribbled numbers across the board. You were half-listening, still shaken from your encounter with Phainon that morning. It wasn’t every day that someone like him willingly spent time with you, let alone helped with class duty.

But you pushed the thoughts aside when the teacher clapped their hands together, drawing everyone’s attention.

"Alright, let’s have some volunteers to solve these problems on the board."

The usual collective groan spread across the class, but four students were eventually chosen—including Phainon.

You rested your chin in your palm, watching as he stepped up, his confidence unwavering even in something as mundane as solving math. It was almost unfair how effortlessly cool he looked doing anything.

But then… something unexpected happened.

He hesitated. His grip on the chalk tightened ever so slightly, his brows furrowing as he stared at the equation in front of him.

You tilted your head. Was this… really a challenge for him?

Before you could overthink it, your hand was already raised. "Um, can I help him?"

The teacher glanced at you, then at Phainon, before nodding. "Go ahead."

You stood up, your legs feeling oddly light as you made your way to the board. The classroom was silent as you took the chalk from his fingers, your hands briefly brushing against his. You quickly turned your focus to the equation, pointing out the step he was missing.

"It’s just this part" you murmured, underlining a portion of the problem. "If you adjust it like this, the answer falls into place."

Phainon didn’t say anything at first. He simply watched you. Then, after a beat, his lips curled into something resembling amusement.

"So you were paying attention" he mused, his voice just low enough for only you to hear.

"O-Of course I was!"

He chuckled, taking the chalk back and finishing the problem with ease now that you had pointed out the missing piece. When he stepped back, the teacher praised both of you before motioning for everyone to return to their seats.

As you sat back down, you could still feel the lingering warmth of where your fingers had brushed his.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Phainon still looking at you. But before you could question it, he turned back to the board.

Lunchtime rolled around, and you eagerly pulled out the bento box from your bag. Unlike your past disastrous attempts, this one actually looked decent, all thanks to your mom’s help. The rice was perfectly shaped, the side dishes arranged neatly, it was almost too good to be yours.

Your friend had specifically asked you to make her one after seeing your previous, albeit messy, attempts. But as you reached her desk to hand it over, she let out a sheepish laugh.

“Oh no, I totally forgot! My boyfriend already got me lunch.” She scratched her cheek, looking guilty. “Sorry, I should’ve told you sooner.”

You stared at her, then at the extra bento in your hands. “So… what do I do with this now?”

“Just eat it yourself?” she suggested. “Or, I dunno, give it to someone?”

Easier said than done. You weren’t exactly good at offering things to people, and the thought of approaching someone out of the blue made you cringe. Sighing, you decided to just take both lunches up to the school terrace, where you could eat in peace. You settled on the bench, opening the first bento, ready to dig in—

Until you heard footsteps approaching.

Of all places, of all times, he had to come here now.

Phainon noticed you immediately.

“Two lunches?” he mused, tilting his head. “Are you really that hungry?”

Heat crept up your neck. “It’s not—! This was supposed to be for my friend, but she already had food, so now I just… have an extra one.”

Phainon hummed, stepping closer. “Then give it to me.”

“Huh?”

He gestured toward the untouched bento. “You don’t need two, right? I’ll take it.”

Sure, it wasn’t a disaster like your last attempts, but still… would he even like it?

“…Are you sure?” you asked cautiously.

He sat down beside you, reaching for the bento without waiting for your answer. “Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

You watched, stunned, as he opened the box and took a bite without hesitation. He chewed thoughtfully, then glanced at you.

“…Better than last time.”

“You knew about that?”

“Of course I did.”

You groaned, covering your face in embarrassment as Phainon chuckled softly beside you.

A few minutes passed before he suddenly spoke up.

"Got any water?"

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. "Oh! Yeah, hold on."

You quickly grabbed your bottle, fumbling with the cap as you tried to open it before passing it to him. But in your usual clumsy fashion, the moment you twisted the cap

SPLASH!

Time seemed to slow as water spilled straight onto Phainon’s uniform, soaking the fabric across his chest.

You gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth. "Oh my god—!"

Phainon looked down at his now wet shirt, then at you. A single droplet trailed down his collarbone before disappearing beneath his uniform.

Panic surged through you. "I—I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to open it, and—!"

A deep chuckle interrupted your frantic apology.

"You really are hopeless, aren’t you?" he mused, shaking his head with a smirk.

Your face burned. "I said it was an accident!"

He exhaled, still smirking as he grabbed a napkin from the bento box and casually dabbed at his shirt, though it did little to help. "Guess I’ll have to deal with this for the rest of the day now."

You winced. "I have a handkerchief! Wait, let me—"

Before you could reach into your bag, Phainon suddenly leaned in closer.

"You’re surprisingly fun to mess with"

"W-What’s that supposed to mean?!"

Phainon just chuckled again, leaning back as he rested his arm lazily against the bench. "Nothing. Just thinking out loud."

You huffed, still flustered, while he continued to act as if having water spilled on him was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

---

The next day, PE class rolled around, and as expected, all eyes were on Phainon. Whether it was basketball, track, or even something as simple as stretching, he did it all effortlessly.

Meanwhile, you were stuck on the sidelines.

You weren’t feeling great today, so you had gotten permission to sit out. Part of you was relieved; sports were never really your thing, and standing in the middle of a heated game with people charging at you sounded more like a nightmare than anything else.

You sighed, watching from the benches as the basketball game played out. Phainon was, unsurprisingly, dominating. The other students either worked with him or struggled to keep up—it was clear that he was the star of the court.

Then, out of nowhere, the basketball rolled toward your feet.

Right. You should probably pass it back.

Without thinking too hard about it, you picked up the ball and tossed it toward Phainon—

Or at least, you thought you did.

Instead of going toward him, the ball veered completely off course, hitting another student right in the back of the head with a loud thump.

The student turned around, rubbing their head, looking equal parts confused and irritated. "Who—?"

Before they could even finish their sentence, a sharp whistle blew, cutting through the tension.

All heads turned toward Phainon, who had stepped forward, spinning another basketball effortlessly on his finger.

"Relax" he said coolly, as if the entire situation wasn’t your fault. "It was just a bad pass."

The student hesitated, then huffed and turned back to the game. Just like that, the attention was off of you.

You exhaled in relief, but before you could fully relax, you noticed Phainon walking toward you.

He stopped just in front of you, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Seriously," he mused, resting his arm against the back of the bench. "You suck at this, too?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I thought I was aiming at you, okay?!"

"Good thing I was watching, then. Who knows what would’ve happened if I wasn’t?"

"Wait… did you cover for me on purpose?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Figure it out."

And with that, he turned on his heel, walking back toward the game as if nothing had happened.

----

Days passed. Then more days.

And just like that, whatever strange, fleeting connection you had with Phainon slipped through your fingers. It was as if those moments—the shared lunch, the PE incident, the cleaning duty had never happened.

Each morning, you walked into school, expecting to at least catch a glimpse of him. Maybe even just exchange a glance. But every time, he was already surrounded. His fan club, his friends, the people who seemed to exist solely to orbit around him.

You couldn’t even hear his voice from the crowd, let alone see him.

The first few times, you told yourself it was fine. But then, it started to feel… different. Each time you so much as moved in his direction, something blocked you. Someone cut in. A conversation started that you couldn’t interrupt. It felt deliberate, almost like the universe itself was pushing you away.

But then there were those brief moments—when your eyes met across the classroom, when he saw you hesitate before turning away. And you saw it in his gaze.

He was trying, too.

You could tell in the way his head turned the second you walked into the room, the slight furrow of his brows when he was pulled into another conversation, the barely noticeable shift in his body when you lingered nearby—like he wanted to step forward but couldn’t.

No matter what either of you did, something always got in the way.

You refused to just let things end like this, not when you knew Phainon had been trying too. So, after thinking about it for a while, you decided to take a simple approach: a note.

You wrote it quickly, keeping it short and to the point—just asking him to contact you, leaving a place and time to meet if he could. Then, you slipped it into the gap of his desk before lunch, hoping that by the time he sat down for the next class, he’d see it.

But… nothing happened.

No message. No glance in your direction. No sign that he even knew about it.

The next day, you casually walked past his desk, only to find no note.

Had he ignored it? Or… had it just disappeared?

Maybe someone had mistaken it for trash and thrown it away before he ever saw it.

With a sigh, you decided to push it aside for now. There was nothing you could do about it.

That evening, you stayed behind at school to help your club clean up. It wasn’t anything major, just clearing out some old supplies and moving things to the storage room.

“Let’s hurry” your friend said, balancing a box in her arms. “I don’t wanna stay here too late.”

“Yeah, yeah” you muttered, adjusting your own load.

The storage room was at the end of the hallway, dimly lit and barely used unless someone needed something. You and your friend stepped inside, setting down the boxes with a relieved sigh.

But the moment you turned around to leave, the door wouldn’t budge.

“…Huh?” Your friend blinked, trying again. She rattled the handle, pushing at the door, but it didn’t move.

“Don’t tell me we’re stuck…”

Your friend let out a nervous laugh. “N-No way, right? It’s just jammed or something…”

She tried knocking, calling out, but the hallway was empty. Everyone had already gone home. Worse, neither of you had your phones—left behind in your bags since you hadn’t expected to be gone long.

Your friend knocked on the door again, harder this time. “Hello? Anyone still here?”

You swallowed, trying not to panic. “Maybe… maybe someone will come by soon?”

Your friend sighed, leaning against the wall. “Let’s hope so. I do not wanna spend the night in here.”

Neither did you. The storage room was stuffy, the dim light above flickering weakly. The shelves were lined with old equipment, boxes stacked high, making the space feel even smaller.

You tried to think logically. Maybe a janitor will come by. Maybe a teacher will check.

But as time dragged on, no one came.

Your friend groaned, sliding to sit on the floor. “This sucks. If only we had our phones…”

You sighed, leaning against the shelves. “Yeah…”

Would Phainon have helped if he were here?

You shook your head at yourself. Why are you thinking about him now?

Still, it stung to know your note had never reached him. Maybe if it had, you wouldn’t feel so distant from him now.

A sudden noise made you jolt.

The door creaked open.

You and your friend stared as a figure stepped inside, the dim hallway light casting a long shadow.

“Phainon…?”

“Figured you’d be here.”

Your friend gawked. “Wait, how did you—?”

“I saw you heading this way earlier” he said simply. “And when you didn’t come back, I got curious.” His gaze landed on you. “You left your bag in the classroom”

Your friend exhaled in relief. “Well, thank god you did. I thought we were gonna be stuck all night.”

Phainon stepped back, holding the door open. “C’mon.”

You quickly followed, stepping into the hallway, finally breathing in fresh air. The moment you were out, your friend turned to you.

“I’ll go grab my things—you can lock up,” she said with a grin, then gave you a knowing look before hurrying off.

That left just you and Phainon.

You turned to him, shifting awkwardly. “Um… Thanks.”

“You really do get into trouble easily, huh?”

“Not on purpose.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Mm.”

You hesitated, then decided to just ask. “Did you… ever get my note?”

“…What note?”

Just as you thought. He had never seen it.

“I left one in your desk” you admitted. “But I guess someone threw it away.”

“Figures.”

Before you could say anything else, he took a step closer, lowering his voice. “Next time just come find me directly.”

----

You didn’t think much of it when the new club member—Leo, a first-year—started asking for your help. He was friendly, a little too eager at times, but genuinely interested in learning. Since he was younger, you felt responsible for helping him out, especially when he asked you to go over homework together.

So when he invited you over to study that evening, you agreed. It wasn’t unusual—just a simple study session.

What was unusual, however, was the feeling of being watched.

Earlier that day, as you and Leo discussed your plans in the hallway, you had caught a brief glimpse of Phainon.

And now, as you walked down the quiet path toward Leo’s house, that same unsettling feeling crept over you again.

You shook off the thought and focused on the conversation.

Leo grinned. “I bet you’ll solve the math problems way before I do.”

You chuckled. “Don’t count yourself out yet. You’re getting better.”

He beamed at the praise, making you smile. It was nice having someone look up to you like this.

----

Phainon was already moving before he realized it.

The moment he saw you walk off with Leo again, something in him itched. He had tried to stop you earlier, had taken a step in your direction, but—again—those damn students swarmed him before he could get a word out.

And just like that, you were gone.

It annoyed him more than it should have.

Throughout lunch, his mind drifted. His fan club chattered away, yet he didn’t hear a word. His gaze flickered to the door every so often, wondering what you and Leo were talking about.

Then, later that evening, when he caught sight of you walking alone, without Leo, he didn’t hesitate.

By now, he had learned how to slip away unnoticed.

Cutting away from his usual followers, he kept a careful distance behind you, watching as you took a different route. You weren’t heading toward Leo’s place this time. Instead, you turned toward a quieter part of town.

You walked at a steady pace, completely unaware of the pair of sharp eyes following your every step.

Phainon trailed behind, hands stuffed in his pockets. His thoughts swirled as he recalled lunch—how Leo had taken up your attention, how again he had been stuck dealing with useless chatter while you just walked away.

He hadn’t heard the conversation, but he didn’t need to. He had seen the way Leo looked at him. That expression—the admiration, the longing to be like him.

So that’s what this is? Phainon scoffed under his breath. That kid wants to be popular?

He had no idea what a pain it was. If anything, Phainon envied him—his ability to sit next to you without a crowd breathing down his neck, to talk with you so freely.

He picked up his pace.

You turned a corner, stopping at a house’s gate. Digging through your bag, you pulled out the borrowed item—some book, maybe—and knocked on the door.

Phainon took the opportunity to close the distance, standing just at the edge of the street. He leaned casually against a lamppost, pretending to check his phone, but his gaze remained locked on you.

A few minutes passed before your friend opened the door. You handed the item over, exchanged a few words, and then you turned to leave.

And that was when you noticed him.

Phainon pushed off the lamppost and started toward you.

“You’re taking a different way home today” he noted.

“Uh, yeah. I had to return something.”

“No Leo today?”

You blinked at the sudden mention of the younger boy. “Leo? Oh, no. He had something else to do.”

“Hm.” He took another step closer. “Guess that means you’re free.”

You hesitated. “I… guess?”

“Then walk home with me.”

Somehow… you ended up at his house.

One moment, you were walking home with him, and the next, you found yourself sitting at his dining table, praying that no one had seen you come here.

Phainon, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease.

“You’re tense” he remarked.

You cleared your throat. “I just—uh, didn’t expect this.”

“Well, you didn’t protest.”

You had no comeback for that. Instead, you focused on the table in front of you, your bag now open with books scattered about. You didn’t know what else to do, so when Phainon mentioned homework, you just went along with it.

The atmosphere settled, surprisingly comfortable as you both worked. It was like that brief time in class when you had helped him. For once, it felt like you actually had his attention.

After a while, Phainon stretched, glancing at the clock. “I’ll order food.”

You perked up. “Wait, I can cook!”

His expression instantly turned skeptical.

“…Can you?”

Your confidence wavered. You had tried before, but every time, something went wrong. He had even seen the disastrous bento you made.

“…Maybe not” you admitted, deflating.

“Yeah, let’s just order.”

As he grabbed his phone, he glanced at you.

“So. Leo.”

“Huh?”

He scrolled through the menu casually, “You two seem close.”

You hesitated, not sure where this was going. “…He’s just a club member. He asks for help a lot.”

“He wants to be popular.”

You nodded. “Yeah, he mentioned that.”

“Annoying.”

You looked up, surprised at the irritation in his voice. “Why?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“…Just is.”

You swallowed, deciding to change the subject. “Uh, what are we ordering?”

Phainon exhaled, locking his phone. “Something you can’t mess up.”

You pouted. “Rude.”

The food arrived soon after, and you both settled down at the table to eat. The atmosphere had relaxed again, but there was still something you couldn’t quite place lingering in the air.

You tried to shake it off, focusing on your meal.

“I was relieved, you know.”

You blinked, looking up mid-bite. “Huh?”

Phainon leaned back slightly, twirling his chopsticks between his fingers.

“When you said you and Leo weren’t dating” he clarified.

Did you hear that right?

“You were… relieved?” you echoed, dumbfounded.

He exhaled through his nose, setting his chopsticks down. “Yeah.” His gaze flickered to you, sharp yet unreadable. “It was annoying, watching you with him all the time.”

Phainon didn’t say anything else after that.

He simply finished his meal, grabbed his jacket, and led you home like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your thoughts were a mess the entire way.

----

The next day, Phainon was back to being surrounded by people, his usual easygoing demeanor in place. If it weren’t for the way he had looked at you last night, you might have thought you imagined the whole thing.

But then, after club hours, you stepped out of the room, stretching after a long day. Leo had been waiting just outside, brightening when he saw you.

“Hey! Since we're done. Let’s—”

“Not happening.”

Leo blinked. “Uh—”

“Y/N's coming with me”

Leo frowned. “Since when?”

“Since now.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed your wrist, tugging you away from Leo like it was a done deal.

You had no idea what just happened. Your mind was still trying to catch up with what just happened when—

You tripped. Luckily Phainon managed to catch and steady you before you hit the ground.

“Did I not make myself clear?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you stop chasing after me…” he murmured, “you’ll see the consequences.”

Before you could even think—before you could stop yourself—

“I like you.”

The words just came out.

You gasped, realizing what you’d just said. “Wait, I mean—”

“That’s it” he murmured, more to himself than to you. His fingers slowly trailed down from your wrist to your hand, lacing them together.

You barely remembered how things end that day.

----

Phainon was not the type to hide anything unnecessary.

So, naturally, your new relationship was not a secret.

The next day at school, it was obvious. The way he hovered near you, the way he casually grabbed your hand, the way he made sure everyone saw—there was no mistaking it.

Some were disappointed, especially those who had always fawned over him. Others whispered, surprised that you—of all people—had somehow captured his attention.

But Phainon didn’t care.

If anything, he wanted them to see.

It was the best way to keep you close—to make sure your name was always beside his.

To make sure everyone knew you were his.

[reidmotif]

Check Your Window (He's At Your Window)

Summary: Reader discovers her window faces into the apartment of her very attractive building neighbor, Spencer. She's willing to do anything for his attention. He's willing to reward her for her efforts.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, lingerie, masturbation, slight dubcon (but for like 5 seconds i swear), nipple play, penetrative sex, apartment break-in.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

It’s natural to believe you’re safe in your place of residency. You’re given locks, blinds, a security gate- all measures designed to invoke a false illusion of privacy. Of course, there are defects that no one can plan for that have the ability to shatter this illusion. 

Mine happened to be a badly placed window. 

Finding this apartment felt akin to love at first sight. It sounds dramatic, but I’m serious. Do you know how horrific real estate is these days? But when my eyes came upon piano oak flooring, the soft light of the day streaming onto a marble island, and of course, an in-home washer/dryer system, I was sold. 

Due to my inherent awkwardness around meeting strangers,  and lack of overt charm, I’d never been one to initiate introductions with my neighbors. I moved in quietly, packing up my life into neat little boxes and dispersing them throughout the emptiness of my new space. It was only then, when I realized a strangely placed window that seemed to fall exactly where I’d wanted my bed to be. 

And while examining my outlandish situation, I saw him. 

I didn’t want to assume he’d been watching me. I wasn’t paranoid like that. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to give off the aura of, for lack of better words, a creep,  so the quick aversion of my eyes from his gaze felt instinctual. Curiosity won over me a millisecond later, though, and against my better judgment, I quietly peered into the window again, wondering if the man in the glass had slipped away, or had looked away from where our eyes met last. 

What I hadn’t anticipated, however, was to be met with the unflinching stare of his eyes, far from concerned with how he came off, holding his gaze with an almost disconcerting and defiant presence. 

He gave me a subtle nod, before walking away, disappearing from view. I was left feeling.. unsettled. But also strangely thrilled. There was a certain peculiarity in knowing you were susceptible to an audience at any given moment. I vaguely recalled social facilitation as a possible explanation as to why the concept roused me the way it did, but whatever it was, I didn’t feel compelled to attach curtains or any kind of barrier to avoid the phenomenon. 

While my thoughts occasionally drifted to the man, I didn’t actually know anything about him. He lived in the building beside mine, so we didn’t even share so much as a landlord. I truly never expected to gain any insight on him besides the location of his domicile in relation to mine, and the thought didn’t bother me by any means.  I was completely fine with letting our connection stay as severed as it was. 

Fate, on the other hand, had other ideas. 

I found myself a few weeks later, struggling with an overstuffed grocery bag in front of my building, and in a terrible game of mismanaged weight and the flimsiness of grocery-store plastic, my bag gave way, scattering the contents of it across the ground. Further misfortune plagued me, as the bag in question had been holding a good pound of lemons, that rolled quite far from where I’d been standing. I immediately dropped to the ground, trying to gather up the ones by my feet in my arms, and noticed a presence nearby doing the same and bringing the runaway citrus to me. I was thankful, and was ready to express my gratitude to the helpful samaritan, until I saw a flash of recognition collectively pass over our faces as we made eye contact. 

Him. The man in the window. 

“You dropped these.” He says, his voice a little quieter than I’d expected from him, and I nod. 

“Yeah, no. It’s these bags. Not really equipped to hold a pound of lemons.” I say, trying to gather the rest to my chest, our eyes still trained on the other. 

“Can I ask why a pound of lemons?” He asks, a sort of playful lilt in his voice. 

“Lemonade.” I say, almost immediately. 

There’s a bit of confusion that flashes over his face. “Are you making a joke?” He replies, furrowing his brows a bit. 

I realize that my response might’ve come off as too deadpan, and I shake my head to correct his misconception. “Oh, no. I’m serious.” I say, offering a grin.  “I love lemonade. There’s a work party I’m attending, and I offered to make some for the office. Hence, the lemons.” I continued, gesturing at the aforementioned fruit, and feeling myself ramble slightly, but it didn’t seem to offend the recipient. 

“That.. is a surprisingly normal response, given the situation.” The man says, nodding. “I love lemonade too.” He adds. 

There’s a bit of silence as we both picked up lemons together, the man more focused than I on the task. I took the oppurtuinity within the lull of our conversation to truly examine the man, finally no longer separated by a pane of glass, and my observations all seemed to point towards one glaringly obvious conclusion. 

The man in the window was hot.

He appeared older than me, yet his age did nothing to diminish the beauty of his features. His doe-like eyes seemed to shine with the same curiosity that I felt towards him. His hair was a bit longer than I’d expect from a man his age, but it suited him. The smooth slope of his nose had a certain charm to it, and his cheekbones were impossibly sharp. I wanted to run my thumb over the bone, and kiss him senseless until we could barely remember our own names. 

“I’m (Y/N). You’re free to come over.” I say, a little more rushed than I’d wanted to. “For the lemonade, of course.” I add, trying to not drop the ball when it came to inviting this gorgeous man over to my apartment. 

“Spencer.” He replies, offering his name to me. “I'll keep it in mind.” He says, smoothly. He flashes me a kind smile as he places the last of the lemons into my other bags or directly into my hands. 

I’d hoped “I’ll keep it in mind” meant “within the next few days or so” but waiting seemed futile after a certain amount of time had passed. He never came, and I even stopped seeing him as often through the window in passing. In hindsight, it was rather naive to genuinely expect a near-stranger to come to my apartment, on account of an invitation that could have been interpreted as a thinly-veiled proposition.

It felt a bit dull, his lack of interest. I’d had a taste of his attention, and for some reason, I was hooked. It was irrational, and illogical, but I couldn’t help the desire I felt simply at the thought of this man. And in a mixture of perversion, desperation and pure brainlessness, I tried to use the one thing that had rarely failed me in the past. Sex. 

I reasoned by telling myself it wasn’t like it was guaranteed he’d see me. 

And it wasn’t as if I was standing directly by the window, exposing myself for his pleasure, and his pleasure only. So hey, if he saw my figure adorned in lacy lingerie in passing, and felt compelled to act on that in any way he chose, well. No harm, no foul, right? 

So that’s exactly what I did. To my benefit, it was one of the hottest summers D.C had ever had, so the lack of clothing worked in my favor.  I’d always felt quite confident in my own skin, so lounging around in bras, panties, barely-there cover-ups around my apartment didn’t strike me as the oddest thing to do.  I felt comfortable, and in turn, possibly seducing the man in the window. Win-win. 

And “win” I did, in some way at least, because I noticed the arrival of lingerie correlated in a sudden uptick in the times I’d see Spencer taking a longer-than-normal glimpse into my apartment. It was fucking exhilirating, to have his regard in this strange, taboo way. I’d find myself imagining him, surrounded by a sea of sheets and pillows slowly stroking his cock to the images of my scantily-clad body. I had no real way of verifying if this was the actual case, but the fantasy was enough to bring heat to my cheeks and an ache in my panties. 

It started to drive me a little crazy, however, when after a week of this,  literally no tangible reward came from the fruits of my labor. While I’d enjoyed his eyes on my form, that seemed to be all he was capable of. He seemed completely at ease with just watching (to my utter dismay) and it seemed the action I wanted him to take was sorely out of reach. 

Reflecting on his shy, soft demeanor from the one time we’d spoken, I concluded that he might not be as forward as I am. It made sense; he never seemed to have visitors in his apartment and, seeming to be in his 40s without a stable partner, he probably wasn't accustomed to a woman's attention in this way. He didn’t exactly exude “womanizer” anyway from what I knew about him, and I began to connect his lack of initiative to these points.

 It didn't deter me from continuing my attempts though. At best, I was at least providing a lonely middle-aged man some sorely needed imagery in the meantime. I’d always been a giver, anyhow. 

It’s reasonable to assume there’d be some payoff down the road, right? 

Wrong. I continued to wear increasingly revealing lingerie, going as far as just walking around naked once in a while. Nothing. I was a fucking saint at this point for continuing this for him.

It didn’t help that my mind insisted on taunting me with what I couldn’t have, as a moment of spare time in my day would constantly be preoccupied with thoughts of him in my bed, pinning my hands down and kissing up and down my neck. I’d imagine him pounding into me, or bouncing up and down on his cock, bringing us both to the throes of pleasure. I couldn’t halt the depravity of my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried.

What I also couldn’t stop, was the slow descent of my fingers into my panties one night, finding a delectable mess within them, signifying my deep arousal associated with the man. It’d been a long few weeks,  the smell of summer and heat encasing my apartment, and a profound craving I couldn’t resist. I breathed out a sigh of relief as I began rubbing the small nub, alternating between up and down motions, and then a slow, circular rub. Little moans poured out my lips, before I quickly shed my panties entirely, watching a string of arousal stuck to them, kicking them haphazardly to the side, wanting more access to my clit. 

My eyes naturally closed as I found myself lazing towards the precipice of release. Soft sighs and moans filled my apartment as I let my fingers rub a bit more desperately. I could see flashes of him again behind my eyes, his hand on me, instead of my own,  mirroring the actions I was performing. A gasp of his name came tumbling out of me as the image became clearer and clear, my eyes opening almost frantically as I felt myself closer and closer. 

That’s when I got the strangest sensation, and felt a pair of eyes on me. I jolted my head to the left, and saw Spencer, who was clearly watching at this point. His gaze was entirely trained on me, and similar to the first time he saw me, our eye contact didn’t deter him from his observation. 

I refused to let it either, and kept my gaze trained on him. I was entirely exposed. I wouldn’t have been able to stop my actions if I’d had a gun to my head. It just felt too fucking good. A moment more of eye contact from him, and I felt the familiar clench and release from my body, waves of pleasure wracking my body. I let out another moan, but not once did my eyes leave his, as my back arched against my sheets, a silent plea on my part being conveyed.  

Come here. What could you possibly be waiting for? 

I watched him disappear from the window as I finished, both literally and figuratively, and panted, wondering if finally, finally, my prayers and fervent supplications would be answered. 

After about 30 minutes, my anticipation was replaced with severe disappointment when I realized even after then, he wasn’t coming. I could no longer see him in the window, and at this point it seemed a little silly and pathetic to continue expecting him to come. 

Maybe he was just entirely sexually inadept. That could be a possibility, right? How much more explicit could I get than this? I’d masturbated in front of him! Albeit, through a window, but masturbation regardless! Was this seriously all he was willing to do? 

I roll my eyes at the thought. I came to accept that maybe, truly, there was nothing I could do to get this man to fuck me the way I deserved. Fine.

As I closed my eyes to get some necessary rest after my endeavors, I made up my mind that I’d buy curtains tomorrow. Fuck Spencer Reid, and his absolute inability to take any action in his goddamn life. Fuck this apartment. Fuck everything. 

Was I dramatic? Yes. Was I still right? Also yes. 

Despite the sour mood I’d taken to bed with me that evening, my dreams were anything but. The idea of Spencer Reid holding me down, whispering sweet and dirty nothings alike were all still incredibly tantalizing to my subconscious. I could hear his voice in my ear, soft pink lips brushing against the shell of my ear, a deep pressure imprinted onto my body, keeping me in my bed. 

“Wake up, sweetheart.” He murmured, beckoning me out of the peaceful cocoon of sleep. 

I felt a few more wet and warm kisses trailing up and down my neck, the sweetest sensation of pleasure being granted to me with every touch he gave. 

“Need you to wake up, pretty girl.” He mumbles. “You really are so pretty up close.” His voice is slightly patronizing, and it does nothing to help the excitation that was steadily growing inside of me. 

Suddenly, I became incredibly aware that the stimuli I was receiving didn’t appear to be a byproduct of my psyche, but rather- he was here? My eyes opened slowly to realize I wasn’t at all mistaken, the soft brush of his brown hair against my neck slightly tickling me as I came to. 

“Atta girl.” He mumbles, his lips still mapping out every inch of my skin. Out of pure instinct, a slightly alarmed moan came from me, still unsure if I was dreaming or not. Surely I had to be dreaming. I had to be, because how the fuck did Spencer Reid get into my apartment? Into my bed? 

“You want this, yeah?” He murmurs, taking a second to gaze down at me. I realized he’d been on top of me this whole time, and the pressure I’d felt in my dream was his skin on mine, trapping me in between his strong chest and the soft sheets adorning my mattress. “I know you do. Saw your little show and everything.” He breathes out, desperately, almost. 

I know I should’ve thought about it. Perhaps I should’ve pondered on the idea of letting a man who’d just broken into my apartment full access to my body as he pleased, but there was no time. He was here, and how could I have ever said no to that? 

There’s an equally as desperate and breathy, “yes” that escapes my lips, and before I can finish saying the word, he dives down, meeting my lips with his, absolutely devouring me with no hesitation whatsoever.  If I'd thought his previous ministrations were delightful, this was absolutely heavenly. 

I moan softly into his mouth, wanting to tangle my hands in his hair, or latch them onto his shoulders and sink my nails deep into the skin that resided there- anything to show even a semblance of control in this situation, but it seemed Spencer had already thought of that, pinning my hands against the mattress so tightly, I couldn’t have moved if I’d exerted every last bit of strength into it. 

“God, the first time- first time I saw you.” He mumbles in between kisses. “With those lemons. I knew they’d fall. Saw you through the window across the street and practically ran. Wanted to meet you so badly.” 

A small whimper escapes me, and I can’t help but get wetter at the thought. I knew he’d been watching me through the window, but the idea that I captured his attention, outside of my apartment, in the most mundane of situations only served to heighten the arousal I felt, my thighs rubbing together for any kind of relief. 

He notices the movement and grins, planting one last kiss on my lips before slipping down. His hands cup the backs of my knees, forcing me to spread my previously shut legs. 

“You had the prettiest voice.” He breathes out, examining my glistening heat. “Fuck. Couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d sound, screaming my name.” He leans forward, planting a chaste kiss on my clit that caused an incredibly breathtaking jolt through my body. 

“Spencer-” I moan, my head rolling back as I felt it, my back arching slightly. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He mumbles, clearly pleased. “Good girl.” 

His hands traveled upward from where he’d been situated between my legs and squeezed my breast blindly. It didn’t feel like it was for my pleasure, but rather that he was desperate to touch anywhere he possibly could. Anyone else, and I might’ve been annoyed with the incessant touching, but with him? 

 It was so fucking hot. 

“That goddamned lingerie.” He mumbles. “The things I wanted to do to you. Did you know that?” 

I looked at him through hooded lids, unsure what he meant, and he took my diversion of attention to quickly tweak one of my nipples, eliciting another surprised moan from my mouth. 

“I’m so much stronger than this, usually.” His large hands continue to squeeze and grope at my breasts. “But you.” He whispers, a hint of a growl making its way into his tone. “Had to push the limits. Practically begging me to come here and take you.” 

I let out a gasp as I felt his hands trail down my stomach, the cool touch of his fingertips causing the muscles to tense up there. 

“I’m gonna do it.” He whispers, his face only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the open window, but I could still see the dangerous glint in his eye, thrilling me even further. “Fuck you exactly how you want it.” 

Before I’m able to react to the sentiment, he’s grabbing onto my hips and turning me over, a yelp drawn out from me. 

“Hands and knees.” He says, in an authoritative tone that doesn’t leave any room for any disagreement. I comply quickly, much to his elation. 

“You’re so good for me, yeah? Gonna ruin you. Just how you want.” 

There’s a hint in condescension in his tone, like he’s making fun of me for wanting to be fucked this badly, but I can barely pay any mind about it, especially when I feel his cock slotting itself betweet my folds, separated only by his boxers, a shaky moan coming from Spencer. 

I can feel his hands leaving my hips and the slight lean away as he quickly shucks off the fabric, and within the next second, he’s pushing into me, providing me with a stretch and fulfillment that was so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. It doesn’t take him long to set a fast pace, the sound of our skin slapping and the smell of sex permeating the room. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He moans out, and I let out similar noises in tandem. 

I can barely find it in me to stay coherent. I want to scream how good he feels, how big his cock feels in me, how close I was- but instead the only thing I could manage was the borderline scream of his name and loud sobs of pleasure, fully at the mercy of the man behind me. I can feel the way I clamp down on him, absolutely imploring him for as much as he could give me. 

“Gonna come for me, yeah?” He says, feeling the clench of my walls on his cock.  “Come on, pretty girl. Give me what I want.” He murmurs lowly, leaning down closer to my ear. His hand shoots out a moment later, beginning to rub my clit, similar to how I had been doing a few hours earlier as he watched me, and the memory and sensation of it is enough to hurl me off the edge, my walls tightening around his cock as waves of pleasure wracked through my body.

It seemed that was enough for him as well. I felt his hips still, and a sudden warmth at my deepest point. He let out a groan of relief as he thrusted once, twice more, and then pulled out, his cum slipping down my thighs as he plopped down next to me. I’d already collapsed the second he pulled out, panting as I came down from the orgasm. 

“You good?” He mumbles, wearily, and I can feel him moving aside my hair to kiss at my shoulder. 

“Mhm.” I murmur back, a small sigh of relief escaping me. There’s a beat of silence, before he breaks it.

“Tomorrow.” He murmurs. “Wanna go out with me?” 

I raise an eyebrow, turning at him with a playful expression- as playful as I could get in this state anyway. “Where to?” 

“Target.” He mumbles, still stroking my back lazily, his eyes shining with something less intense than lust now, but still enough to turn my stomach over with butterflies.

“Target?” I say, squinting my eyes. “Why Target?” 

“We’re buying you some curtains.” He says, a small grin appearing on his face. “And maybe a stronger lock.” 

I giggle at that, rolling my eyes a bit.  “But then you don’t get to see me anymore. I kind of liked what we had going on.” 

“I did too.” He whispers, his tone slightly vulnerable now. “But I like this a lot more.” 

A small smile plasters itself to my face as I nod.

 “Me too.” I whisper back, biting my lip. 

A mutual understanding passed through the both of us as we smiled at each other in the dark, and for a split second, I imagined myself possibly loving this more someday. 

All in good time. Right now, I was going to sleep, protected by his soft, strong arms. That was enough for now. We’d finally gotten what we wanted. 

woah!! trying to finally get back into writing semi regularly i see. i hope this was enjoyable. this is one of those pieces i'm kind of unsure about, so please, please interact if you liked it! likes, comments, reblogs, anything! or let me know if you didn't! i live for feedback of any kind. thank you for reading anyhow, i am very grateful for it <3

also lol if it wasn’t obvious i listened to “she” for fic inspo lol. linked below

[thef1diary]

i love love love ghost!max, and i know you’re pretty much only writing smut about him, but i’m in my feels rn, so what if the spirit box stays on all the time now, so that you can openly communicate with max whenever you want. but one day the two of you get in a big fight about something and you turn the spirit box off on him. maybe he realizes that he’s screwed up and tries to do little things for you, like making you breakfast or cleaning something in the house, just small things he’d never done before, hoping you’d turn the box back on and give him the chance to actually apologize

pls ignore this if you’re only sticking to smut for ghost!max, i just needed to get the thought out of my head 🤍

— hi nonnie! I’m so glad you love this lil au <3 going to write some fluffier drabbles cuz I’m also in my feels lately. lil drabble below

The silence was different this time. It wasn’t the quiet comfort you had grown used to since Max became a presence in your life—it was hollow, empty. Usually, even in the stillest moments, you could feel him lingering, his energy humming softly through the air, a constant awareness that he was there, always watching, always listening. But now?

Now, the air felt cold in an uncomfortable way.

You still felt something—his presence hadn’t disappeared, but it was distant, dulled by the heavy weight of your anger. Or maybe it was his anger, too.

The argument had started over something stupid. A careless comment, a teasing remark from Max that had hit a nerve when it wasn’t supposed to. Maybe it had been a bad day, maybe you had been stressed, but the irritation had flared too quickly, your words snapping sharper than intended. And then Max—prideful, stubborn Max—hadn’t let it go. He had pushed back, and before you knew it, you were fighting over things neither of you had meant to say.

“You don’t get it, Max,” you had spat, arms crossed, voice shaking.

“Oh, because I’m dead?” he had shot back through the spirit box, static crackling through his words, his tone biting. “That’s your excuse?”

You had wanted to scream. Instead, you had reached over and shut off the only form of verbal communication you had with him.

The silence that followed was deafening.

For the first day, neither of you tried to fix it. You ignored him because you were still angry, and Max—well, he had no way of talking to you, so why would he bother? If anything, it felt like a standstill, both of you too prideful to make the first move.

But then, the ache and longing began to settle in.

Max hadn’t realized how much he needed to talk to you until he couldn’t. At first, it didn’t seem like a big deal. He told himself it didn’t matter that you couldn’t hear him. He still spoke—jokes, dry remarks, muttered comments when you cracked open yet another energy drink—but it went unheard. No reaction or responses from you. It felt wrong.

The silence stretched longer, and something in him itched with the need to break it.

But he couldn’t do so verbally. Instead, he did things.

The next morning, you woke up groggy, exhausted from a restless sleep. You dragged yourself to the kitchen only to find a steaming cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter, the sugar and cream swirled in exactly the way you liked. Your hand hovered over it for a second, heart clenching at the sight, before you scoffed to yourself and turned away.

The day after, you noticed the house was tidier than usual. The couch blanket had been folded neatly, pillows fluffed in a way you never bothered to do. The floor—was it cleaner? You weren’t sure, but something felt different. Still, you ignored it, pushing the thought away before it could settle too deeply in your chest.

Then, the kitchen.

You had left dishes in the sink from the night before, too tired to deal with them. But when you stepped into the kitchen that morning, they were gone. Clean. Dry. Put away. You gripped the edge of the counter, staring at the empty sink like it had personally offended you.

“Max,” you muttered under your breath, your voice softer than before.

That evening, you found dinner waiting for you.

It wasn’t anything fancy—a simple dish, something you would have made for yourself on an easy night—but it was warm, plated carefully, waiting on the dining table. The chair was slightly pulled out, like an unspoken invitation.

You swallowed hard, staring at it for a long time, fingers twitching at your sides.

Your resolve wavered. You had spent the days determined to ignore him, convincing yourself that turning off the spirit box was justified. When you had reached for the switch, silencing him completely, you thought you had won.

But now, standing before this quiet gesture, it didn’t feel like winning.

You sat down hesitantly, the air around you charged with the unmistakable weight of his presence. You could almost feel him watching, waiting. Each bite was a painful reminder of your argument. But you imagined the way he must have lingered in the kitchen, moving unseen, focused on preparing something just for you. It was familiar, comforting, and undeniably him.

After finishing, you pushed the plate aside and sighed, rubbing your temples. “Damn you, Max,” you muttered under your breath, knowing full well he could hear you.

But when you passed by the fridge, your resolve shattered, replacing the remnants of anger with longing.

You stopped in your tracks, stomach tightening as you took in the magnets—letters you didn’t even remember having, rearranged into something unmistakable.

Please talk to me

Your breath caught, a lump forming in your throat. You reached out, fingertips brushing over the letters like they might disappear. It was desperate. Messy. A plea.

You could almost hear him, the way he’d say it if he could, voice rough, maybe even a little strained.

Your chest ached.

With a deep breath, you turned, walked to the living room, and flicked the switch on the spirit box.

Static filled the room, a familiar hum cutting through the heavy silence. And then—his voice, distorted but clear, breaking through like a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was rough, distorted through the static, but the emotion in it was unmistakable.

Your throat tightened.

“…You really swept the floor to get my attention?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

A pause.

“Yeah. It was awful. I’m never doing that again.”

The laugh that bubbled out of you was instant, breaking the tension in your chest. You hadn’t even realized how much you missed hearing him until now. Until this moment.

You exhaled shakily, resting your hand on the couch for support. “I’m sorry,” you admitted quietly.

The static shifted, almost like a sigh before he spoke again, “please don’t do that again.”

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your thoughts—filthy or not—and I’d love to write you a little drabble <3

[pathologicalreid]

a special occasion | S.R.

moving your daughter into a toddler bed brings about some interesting conversation

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, the f word, talks about having another baby but not necessarily suggestive, extremely accurate emily prentiss characterization word count: 1.36k a/n: this is the spencer reid dilf agenda: father's day edition! this entire fic was born from a headcanon that spencer is stupid good at building ikea furniture. also, this is technically the family from cryptic, but you don't have to read that fic to know what's happening here. it's just easier than making/naming a new baby every time.

“Emily started trying to teach her to swear,” Spencer told you, pulling a bag of screws out of the cardboard box splayed on the floor in your toddler’s room.

While he started to check whether or not all of the pieces were there, your eyes followed your daughter as she ran around the room, pulling each toy out of her toy box and setting it on the other side of the room. “I think we should consider ourselves lucky that Em waited until she was two to start her campaign,” you responded, thanking your daughter as she handed you a baby doll.

The crib had already been taken apart and was ready to be stored in the basement, and the pieces that were organized on the floor would eventually create a toddler bed. Right now, the floor was just covered in wood and screws – tiny pieces that set your mom instincts on high alert. Looking at the pieces, Spencer raised his head, “Hey, Nellie, can you hand me that screwdriver?” He asked your toddler, pointing at the screwdriver on the floor for her to grab.

You tried to hide your smile as Eleanor picked up the wrench from the floor and proudly presented it to her father. He thanked her, and as she toddled back to her toy box, you slyly passed the screwdriver to your husband. “Welcome,” she said softly, “welcome, welcome, welcome,” she echoed.

After reading about how important it was to involve your toddler in setting up their big kid bed, you and Spencer set out to include Nellie in every step. She picked the bed frame, the sheets, and everything she could possibly need for the bed. “Did you tell Emily not to teach her swear words?”

“Of course I did, but I’m pretty sure she started up again when I left the room,” he informed you, using the screwdriver to attach two pieces of the base together.

Humming, you glanced over to Eleanor, “I’d have thought Derek would be the one to start it,” you muttered, watching as she ducked her entire head in the toy box, obviously looking for a particular toy.

Spencer continued working on putting the pieces together, faltering in his movements as Nell made her way back to where the two of you were sitting. She made her way around the bed parts and unceremoniously sat down next to her father, her pigtails – his handiwork – bouncing as she plopped to the ground. “Hi princess,” he greeted, taking a moment to hug her into his side before returning to his construction work.

Eleanor happily waved the wooden hammer she had retrieved from the toy box in the air, “Help daddy,” she offered giddily, kicking her feet as she watched him complete another step in the process.

“Here, can you hammer this right here?” He asked her, pointing to the part he had just fastened, having her hammer at the screw – she was none the wiser. “Good job,” he praised her before reaching over for the next piece.

Furrowing your brow, you watched him work as Nell hammered at the carpet in front of her, “You’re not even reading the instructions.”

He shrugged, “I looked at them before I started, but I don’t need them,” he said casually, adjusting his arm as Eleanor leaned into him.

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t tell me you can just visualize the way the pieces go together in your giant brain.”

“Okay,” he answered simply, a small smirk sprouting on his face, “I won’t tell you that.”

Groaning, you laid back on the carpet and stared up at the ceiling, “I have been building furniture for years and you’re telling me I could’ve just handed it off to you?” Every bookshelf you had put together while he was off on a case, you could’ve just saved it for him.

Nellie had started creating a song about her love of hammers, continuing to hammer at the floor. “Oh, hey, be careful,” Spencer said gently, “those screws are sharp,” he told her.

Your head snapped up to see her reaching out for the pile of screws on the floor, and Spencer was doing his best to redirect her to the bolts. “Sharp,” she echoed solemnly, leaning back and holding her hammer with both hands.

“Can you say hammer?” You asked, pointing to the apparatus in her hand.

Holding it up proudly, she gave you a toothy grin, “Hammer!” She fumbled over her “r” sound, but Spencer assured you that it was a skill that she had plenty of time to develop.

As Spencer finished putting the bed together, you continued asking Eleanor to name the bits and bobs around her bedroom. “You’re so smart, lovebug. You get your brains from your daddy,” you told her.

“But you’re pretty like your mama,” he instantly responded, not even looking up from what he was doing to talk you up to your daughter – as if the two of them didn’t have the same big, brown eyes.

You pulled yourself up to a sitting position, smiling as Nell stood up and walked over to you, “Mama,” she said, turning around and taking a seat in your lap. “Bed?” She asked, looking over at the spot where her crib used to reside.

Switching from the screwdriver to a hex key, Spencer smiled at the two of you, “Almost,” he answered.

Gently dropping a kiss on the top of her head, you smiled fondly down at your toddler, “Do you remember picking your new bed out?” You asked while you pointed at the frame your husband was nearly finished with and the pile of fresh sheets she had chosen.

Nodding slowly, Nellie watched Spencer place the mattress on the bed frame before inviting her to come try it out. He reached out his hand for her, and she took his index finger in her tiny hand before he helped her up on the bed, “What do you think Nellie?” He asked, straightening out her ladybug overalls from where they were getting twisted up.

“Big,” she answered, releasing her hold on his finger and laying down on the mattress. You checked the time on your phone to make sure she wasn’t missing a nap.

Spencer stood up, picking her up as he did so, he held her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “You started climbing out of your crib every night, so you got to upgrade to a big girl bed,” he explained to her. You shuffled over to grab the sheets and start making the bed. “Alright, did Aunt Emily teach you a new word last night?”

From the way she smiled at him, you knew the answer to the question and that she had been informed that Emily would get in trouble for teaching her the word, “Fuck!”

Clamping your hand over your mouth to stop from laughing, you heard your husband sigh behind you, “Did Aunt Emily tell you that you shouldn’t say that?”

“Speshul cay-shun,” she sounded out the answer as he let her down, she went back to the bed that you had just finished making. You helped her up on the bed and she proceeded to lay down on the comforter, patterned with multi-colored flowers.

While she explored her new bed, you stood next to your husband, “Shame we have no use for the crib anymore,” he murmured to you, snaking an arm around your waist.

Raising your eyebrows, you turned to look at him, “Oh, you are fishing right now, Spencer Reid.” You were half joking, half scolding as you beamed up at him.

Spencer placed both of his hands on either side of your waist, “I am merely stating a fact,” he said, feigning innocence.

“Pointedly, stating a fact,” you corrected him, “It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Fuck,” a small voice said from behind the both of you, causing your head to snap back to your daughter, who was now making snow angels on her new bed.

You cringed slightly, “Maybe we’ll revisit after we solve this issue.”

He looked fondly over at the toddler, “You have to admit, it is a special occasion.”

[ashnnix]

Various JJk men x Male husband reader

Tw: gbang,double pen,buldge,cum inflation, darcyphilia, spanking,forced marriage, dubcon,bj,polysex,cockwarming,almost NTR. Aphrodisiac,squirting

Summary:

As a husband of the famous Gojo who saved japan you always held your head high. Every man from jujutsu society is devastated to hear the news you're happily wed to the honoured one .But they always have a plan to have you in their arms, too. By having a gangbang with you and marry them after

Minors dni

fem align dni

PT.2

"Honey! I'm off to kill bunch of special grades, I might come home late!"

You hurriedly walked to your door to give your husband a good bye kiss. Being Satoru's husband is a blessing

"Leaving me without a kiss? How cruel" you jokingly said, you heard him laugh at your pun. Satoru pulled you from your waist a firm grip that almost made you whimper

"Kiss me" Without hesitation you pulled him by the neck, a quick kiss for him. You dont want to make him late you affectionately held his hands and also gave it a kiss

"Be safe okay? " Gojo gave you a warm smile, he also gave your hands a kiss his warm lips making you shiver

"You know how strong I am honey" Satoru patted your head and left your home. You didn't notice his dark smirk, eyes filled with lust. Gojo bit his lip in arousal

'Oh Y/N...'

After cleaning your home you took a break you sat on your sofa, taking a sip of the tea you made. You heard a knock from the door, you know it wasn't Satoru, it made you worried a little bit

You opened the door, your jaw dropped on the floor

It was all the men you rejected for Gojo

Looking at you with such lusted eyes looking down at you like you are their meal for the whole day

Frustrated you folded your arms glaring at the three Getou, Nanami and Choso

"When are you guys going to give up! Can't you see this ring I'm happily married!" You screamed at them while presenting your ring shining brightly

"Now now Y/N we just want to present you a gift for newly weds. We dont mean harm" Getou said smoothly with his charming smile he only use at you

Lies, its all lies and you can see it

Nanami cleared his throat avoiding eye contact

"We really meant no harm" Nanami blushed of how apron looks cute on you, he can't wait to fuck you already

"Congratulations Y/N" Choso gave you box with a cake inside, written ontop was 'Congratulations on marriage'

You felt slightly bad considering they went this far just to congratulate you. With a sigh you opened the door wider

"Fine fine, come in" you turned your back and walked to the living room you didn't hear how the three men breathed heavily, fighting the urge to pounce at you

The three sat on the couch while you take a seat on the solo sofa. You saw how Choso place the cake gently on the table, you crave something sweet today so you stand up to get a plate to eat the cake after taking off your apron

While you are rummaging to your plates the three men put a lot of aphrodisiac to the cake, enough to fuck you till morning

You grab a piece of cake, you look at the three men before taking a bite

"So how's life? Found someone yet?"

The three men clenched their hands, impatient. Their breath hitched when you finally took a bite of the cake

"We can't move on from you, Y/N"

Your body felt hot and heavy, you dropped the cake and the spoon on the floor

"Ah-ahh... wha-what is hngh! Happening?" Your confused why you suddenly felt too horny you and Satoru just had a morning sex

You tried to stand up with your wobbly legs, your cock wet from the precum its leaking. You pushed your thigh together hiding your erection but the friction from your clothes made you feel good

'nghh~ fe-feels good!more!more♡︎!" You drooled. You gasped when you realized your husband is not home. Your eyes locked in with the three males whos already taking off their clothes. Your body moves on its own, walking closer to them. Your knees went weak and fell on Nanamis chest. The smell of the mans cologne made you crazy and lose yourself

You rub your hard cock with his, Nanami groaned at the friction his dick is also getting hard

"Fuck, you feel so go-good" Nanami groaned also letting out a small whimper.Your bit your lip, Nanami's whimpering does something in your body

Getou and Choso stroke themselves at the scene letting Nanami have the first

"Go on, Kento, you can take him first"

Nanami wasted no time. He bends you over on the couch face down ass up he ripped off your shorts and boxer. His dick went harder when he saw your ass leak from being turned on

You still have your mind back, your mind is still not blank. So with your weak arms you tired to push Nanami away

"N-no you arent m-ngh!♡︎ husband, Ca-call Toru..." Your sentence was broke but they understand it well you saw Getou walked closer and crouch to give your forehead a kiss

"Satoru just buying something from the sex store for this sex we will use a lot of toys♡︎, he'll comeback later..." Choso also walked closer and pull your hair to make you look at him, you wince from the pain

'Toru...did what?'

"Right now, we, your husbands shall take care of your arousal" Your eyes almost rolled back how horny that sentence made you

You felt Nananami rubbing againts your ass, he opened the lube and squirted the liquid all over your ass making it look lewd

"Nooo...Nami haaa....st-sto- ahh!" You felt Nanami spank you leaving red hand prints on your ass

"You tell me that but your ass keeps rubbing on me" you sniffed in embarrassment .Your ass rubs on him not having enough patience

Without a warning Nanami dick plunge inside you, the hot burning sensation and the way it hit your prostate made you roll your eyes back and squirted your cum

"Oohh!!♡︎ cu-cumming!!" Your body arches as your dick continues to let out sperm. Nanami groaned and whimpered how your ass tightens around him. Getou giggled horny and hot at the scene infront of him

"You came just from inserting it? How cute Y/N" Your eyes let out tears as you lay limp on the couch, your drool soaking the sofa

"Ahh! Ahh! Haa! Ngh!"

Nanami thrust inside fast and rough, not forgiving you for rejecting him

Fwop Fwop

"Your so tight ngh!" You whimpered as you tighten up more, hearing Nanami whimper and let out sounds is making you horny

"Ohhh! Ahhh! Ah! ♡︎♡︎♡︎" your moans and whimper made Choso hot, he continued to stroke his dick. He clicked his tounge getting impatient. Choso pulled your head again his dick on your face

Getou continue to stroke his dick not stopping Choso, he understands how horny Choso already is

"Suck" Y/N hesitated and shook his head whining

"No~ do- ahh! Wanna...." Choso scoffed and slap your face hard, you didn't know why your dick twicthed

"Its not a request mmhm!" Choso grabs a hold of your hair, he pushed his dick on your mouth forcing you to deep throat him. You choked and your eyes rolled back. Tears brimming in the corner of your eyes

"Mmhm! Hmm! Ohmm!♡︎" The way Nanami thrust didn't help, it made you take Choso dick deep in your throat. Your hands went to stroke your dick ready to cum again. But Nanami pulled both of your hands taking him a lot more deeper

"Ohm! Hmm!" Your tongue continued to please Choso. Your eyes saw his face, flushed and horny. His whimpers can be heard all over the room

"Mgh...haa ahh your mouth feels good!" Choso groaned he thrust his hips the tip of his mouth hitting the deepest part of your mouth. Your jaw started to hurt already. You closed your eyes as tears flowed down your cheek. Your dick is now leaking precum staining the sofa again, your hands gripped Nanamis hands

Nanami smirked his glasses getting foggy from breathing hot air, his hips stuttered. Hes about to cum deep inside your ass, he can also feel your about to cum too. The way you shake, your ass twicthimg every thrust

Nanami leaned closer to your ear, with his deep voice whispering

"I'm gonna cum inside you" Your eyes widen, your body getting heated up

With one final thrust, both of you three simultaneously came. Your ass filled with Nanamis cum, your mouth choking on Chosos dick his semen also made you choke forcing you to swallow it all

"Mmhm! Ohmm! Mmngh!♡︎" you moaned,whimpered and cried. You kept cumming but your dick is still hard, you needed more...more!!♡︎♡︎

"Ahhh fuck you feel so good, so this is what that damn Gojo had to feel everyday" Nanami pulled his still hard dick watching a strand of cum connecting his tip to your rim

Choso also pulled out from your mouth watching you lay limp on the couch, your ass still up. Choso pulled back his hair already hot and sweaty from the sensation

"Your mouth feels good, I want- no need you everyday"

Your body layed limp shaking uncontrollably, your dick still hard, begging to cum again

Getou smirked of how fucked you looked, but not fucked enough. He will fuck you so hard till you can't speak, move passing out till morning

"Its my turn now darling"

You felt Getou big hands touch your waist, forcing you to lay on your back. He smirked darkly when he saw your dick twicth, hard and swollen stained with cum, your balls also twitching ready to let out bunch of your loads

His eyes moved to Getou catching his breath

"Choso lets double pen♡︎" Choso didn't hesitate he pulled you up from your armpits. Suprised you didn't fight back, he smirked how you just gave up

You felt two hot dick tip touch your rim rubbing it. With your last strength you tried to push Getou away touching his pecs

"Nooo- ahh p-please....Go-toru might see ahhh~ us!"

Choso and Getou suddenly went inside you without a warning, the grith of their cock forcing your ass to take their shape.You squealed loud body twitching from the pain and pleasure all at once. Both men shake and whimpered of how tight your ass felt. Both men groaned their dick touching each other inside you, hitting your deepest parts

"Ohhh! Shoo big! Im gonna cu-cumming!!" You came from the sensation the way they hit your deep parts sends electricity in your brain making you dumb on their dick

"Ooh! Big shoo good!! Ngh!~♡︎" the three men were shocked how hot and lewd your body reacts to double pen

The two men inside you only smirked darkly. They both simultaneously thrusted harshly inside hitting your prostate again and again without any breaks

Your eyes rolled back your pupils turned hearts. Your body arched your head resting on Choso shoulders. You saw his face eyes closed, focusing on pleasing his husband

"Sh-shit Y/N! You haa...ahhh..oh! Feel so good!" Getou moans are so much whinier than the two men

Nanami continued to watch the scene taking a break by drinking water

"Y-Y/N....mhm! Ohh!" Choso moans become much more needier the way his hips stuttered, his eyes almost rolled back of how tight your ass clenched around the both of them

Getou thrust was violent he cannot also forgive you for rejecting him. At your dumb fuck state you must realized now how these men are obsessed with you

Your hands touched the buldge in your stomach, whining of how deep they are inside you

Fwop fwop

The thrust becomes sloppy because of Nanamis' previous orgasm making your ass more wet

"Ahh! Haa! Ah! Choso~ Su!Suguru!" The two men suddenly came, moaning their name made them cum quick. You just had a strong effect on them

The feeling of being full to the brim, hot sweaty men all over you made you cum again. Your dick squirted all over, making a mess on your chest and stomach. Some got in Getou's cheek

Getou wiped it using his fingers, he put it inside his mouth, shaking on how sweet your cum taste

"Haa...n-no more..." But your dick didn't listen. it's still hot and hard

The two men stayed inside you, cockwarming them. Your body continues to be shaking, twicthing. Its your body who begs for more not you

You heard your front door open a familiar voice you heard

"Oh, Y/N! Im back! Look what I bought! Bunch of lube and vibrator!" The voice of Gojo made your heart drop, you saw him enter the living room. Your eyes filled with tears of how shocked he looked

"Toru....I'm sorry I'm such a bad husband..." You sniffled your tears, looking away from him ashamed of how you look. A whore who who just fucked his coworkers and friends

The two men inside you decideds to pull out, bunch of cum leaving your insides a small puddle of cum on the couch

You felt Gojo hands patted your head lovingly

"The others are on their way, Sukuna, Naoya, and Toji...so while we wait want another round?" Your eyes showed confusion. You want to stop, but your dick keeps getting hard . With hesitation, you nodded. After this, you want an explanation

[greenorangevioletgrass]

tuesday in the park (a.d.)

pairing: divorced!art x reader

synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.

warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk

notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!

✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.

Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.

Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…

And then suddenly… another pattern.

A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.

You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.

It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!

But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.

You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?” 

“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.

“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”

“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”

The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”

“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile.  And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”

“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.

“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.

The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”

“Come on, Daddy…” 

“No way.”

“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,

“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”

The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too. 

“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”

He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.

He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”

You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.

He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”

It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.

He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”

You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.

(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)

“Thanks, um…” he trails off. 

You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.

He nods. “I’m Art.”

He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,

“Nice to meet you, Art.”

He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved. 

“So what brings you out here?”

“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”

“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”

He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”

And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”

You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”

“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”

The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an interpreter.”

His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”

“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.

“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”

“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”

“But not today?”

You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”

“Fuck.”

“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”

He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”

Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.

You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”

But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.

Oh.

You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”

Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”

There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…

“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered. 

If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”

“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”

The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.

Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”

“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.

“Oh! Um…”

And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”

Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter,  “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.

“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”

“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.

The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”

You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”

He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.

Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.

“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.

“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.

“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”

She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.