#How do you just admire? I want to do it too. I want to do it too.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ You test out a new lipstick

(Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia)

Tw: smooches! Shield your eyes!

Oh, would you look at that, you bought a new lipstick. You just need to test whether it wears down quickly or leaves any mark. 

✧ Pierro is in a haste. You blurt out that you need a new lipstick once, and the next thing you know, he purchases several high-quality ones for you. Offering you swatches of colors, makeup removers, different shades, and lipstick textures, he observes with analytical admiration as you sit in front of a mirror and apply the lipstick carefully. 

One last step is missing – to try its imprint. The Jester is ready to reach for a napkin to let you try. But you only smiled. Before he can comprehend, your hand reaches to turn his head and gently guides him closer to your lips until you sweetly capture his. It’s not often that The Jester experiences a complete blank out, but when you deliberately trace your lips across his skin and start preparing his face with kisses, how else is he supposed to react? Hold in his hitched breaths? Not deepen the kisses to relish the ambrosia of your lips?

Suffice it to say, you are proud of the imprints on his pale skin. He seems even prouder, wearing them like a badge of honor, despite his stoic appearance.

✧ You asked Il Capitano to evaluate the new shade of lipstick you bought. Like any loving partner, the honorable Captain stated honestly that any hue suits you elegantly. Even if his knowledge of cosmetics is minimal, he felt delighted and proud of your looks.  

But that wasn’t the issue. Now you were standing in front of him, smiling menacingly.  

“What is it, my treasure?”  

You stepped closer.  

“Dear…?”  

You stepped even closer. Oh no, thought the Captain, he’s in danger. His pleas for reason and mercy went unheard. Instead, he faced a bigger battle—a battle that left his helmet not with scratches but with various imprints of your kisses. You stood triumphantly, happy with your lipstick and the numerous marks on his helmet and neck. 

Il Capitano lost the battle that day. 

✧ At last, Il Dottore mused to himself, the perfect hue of lipstick designed scientifically for you. You voiced your issue in finding a suitable shade of makeup for yourself, hence you asked none other than your beloved to find a logical solution. So he took matters into his own hands to find the best chemical solution and accurately create the best shade to match your skin. 

Naturally, it was a success. With his gloves stained in various colorful substances, he proudly handed you a slender tube with a delicate black cap from the table as if it were a casual concoction he could make on a whimsy. Hence, you thanked him and blithely applied it on the spot.

“Dottore, it turned out magnificently!” – you said as you looked into the reflection of your face. But when you turned to look at him, Dottore’s complexion went vaguely blank. “Hm, what is it? Isn't it good? You made it matte, too.” 

He silently stepped forward; even behind his black mask, you could sense his full attention zooming on the beauty of your lips. 

"Well, true... I formulated it to be stain-proof, so it won't smudge as you go about your day. However," - he hummed, his hand cupping your jawline warmly. "Every product requires assiduous testing. We could conduct a few tests of our own to ensure its performance. If I may," 

Of course, he would test it personally. Of course, he then captures your lips in a kiss, his hand on the back of your head, his touch an ardent mix of passion and desire. He explores your mouth, his tongue caressing yours with a fervor, wanting to test how long the lipstick will last under the pressure of his kisses. You should've expected this, as his other hand encloses around you to press you flush against him. 

"Ah... interesting. It's held up quite well. There's no transfer on your skin or mine, but I do think further testing is necessary."

“Enough, enough! That’s plenty of testing from you!” 

✧ Scaramouche dislikes shopping. It’s a hassle, truly. You requested him to accompany you on a leisurely stroll, oblivious of your trap to drag him to some quick shopping. Except this quick shopping turned into a full-blown shopping spree. The question is: was he here to accompany you or to pull you away from wasting all your Mora on fleeting indulgences?

“No, you don't need any more clothes. You have plenty of unworn ones.”

“No, we don't need any more plushies, your bed is already littered with them.”

“And no, you already had some snacks on the way here. Stop buying more!”

You couldn't escape his stern reminders, even if they were practical. However, there was still one shop you left as an ace up your sleeves. Before finishing today's trip, you encouraged The Balladeer to join you in cosmetics shopping. Your innocent smile spoke promises of letting him choose your new lipstick color if he so desired, and the allure of it caused him to halt. 

“... Me? Why must I choose? Can't you pick a simple color and call it a day, huh?” - Scaramouche feigned annoyance when, in reality, he quickly grabbed your arm and led you hastily to the boutique. “We'll quickly buy one, but don't get any ideas that we're staying here for any longer.”

Poor Harbinger; he didn't have to lie to himself so cruelly. The two of you stayed in the boutique for a long while, not because you were indecisive, but because Scaramouche suddenly took the matters with utter seriousness. Should he suggest a carnelian shade? It would match with his own red eyeshade. Or perhaps a darker one would suit your complexion? Especially if you decided to leave contrasting lipstick imprints all over his porcelain skin- 

Scaramouche shook his head. Your voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Um… Scara, sweetie? Could we decide already? We spent the whole day in this shop.”

“We'll buy all of them, then,” - he held up your face, his full focus on you as you timidly averted your gaze. “Here. Now let me help you apply it.” 

✧ Pantalone sat behind his desk, fingers intertwined thoughtfully. Silver glasses cast a shadow upon his already darkened gaze. His expression, unfortunately, was far from pleased. 

“L-lord Harbinger Regrator,” – the Fatui subordinate uttered. “It is with utmost sorrow that I must inform you that- that the cosmetologists you hired have not finished their work. They are still in the process of creating the products you requested.” 

The silence of the office was deafening. The Harbinger granted no mercy with his prolonged pause.

“... I commission the best cosmetologist in all of Teyvat, and they still dare to waste my Mora and time? Is this some frivolous matter for them?” - The Harbinger's hands sternly pressed against the table, his voice raised “My beloved requested a new lipstick! They deserve the best of the best, as soon as possible!” 

“Uh, honey… I am still here in the room.” - your voice interjected awkwardly. Indeed, it's true; you are sitting nearby, blinking in confusion. You waved at the Fatui subordinate to take it easy, signaling sympathetically that your partner was having another one of his ambitious episodes. 

“Honey, my love, this is no fleeting matter! I wanted you to get the highest, custom-made quality for cosmetics. You rarely ask for anything, but when you do, I can't just let you down!” 

“It's just lipstick…! I didn't even say what color or kind I wanted.”

“And that's precisely why you shall get all of them. You there,” - he signaled back to the subordinate swiftly. “Quick, send the letters to those cosmetic chemists to hurry up if they want to make themselves worth the Mora. Delays are not negotiable.”

With the Fatui worker scurrying away in a hurry, Pantalone sighed deeply before plopping down beside you on the sofa of his office. You patted his back, amused by his sudden precedence over something so mundane. 

“There, there, Pantalone. You know it's nothing urgent. It's just lipstick.”

“Not any lipstick. Your lipstick, darling! I need to see you don the most dazzling color on your lips.” He turned to gently trace his thumb across your jawline, his voice softening. “...The lips that should be showering me with kisses and leaving lipstick prints on my skin.”

You laughed heartily – “Oh, so that's what it's all about? You know, makeup or no makeup, I can still kiss y-”

You didn't register how The Harbinger's head bowed lowly in reverence. “I would pay you any amount of Mora for you to do so.” 

Pantalone truly knows how to blow up over the most bizarre things. Either way, as the weeks passed, the newly ordered cosmetics did arrive as instructed. How did people know? Because Pantalone didn’t shy away from flaunting the traces of your delicate lips on his neck and blouse. A testament to stolen kisses and intimate moments behind closed doors. His triumphant grin says it all. 

✧ Your ever-observant boyfriend, Tartaglia, noticed you mulling something over by the mirror. You seemed in deep focus, a new item in your hands as you inspected your visage. You tried on a new lipstick! 

Childe, being the endearing goofball that he is, complimented your new purchase with delight. You appreciated his knack for noticing even the smallest changes, even if you didn't directly tell him you tried on something new. All was well! 

Or was it? For beneath his easygoing smile, in the deepest recesses of his soul, Tartaglia was begging, crying, screaming. He wanted to hold your face in his palms and kiss you senseless. He wished to taste the sweetness of your lips until this adorable color of your lipstick was smeared on both of your faces. He wished to soak in the warmth of your pecks and kisses, dreaming for your touch to litter his face with imprints.  

Did he say all of that? Of course not. He kept beaming at you in adoration, his smile tender while his thoughts devouring. Yet, after days of wrestling with his unspoken desires, Childe devised a plan – a very, very subtle plan.

“Oh nooo,” - he lamented dramatically, leaning against the doorway with a hand draped theatrically over his forehead. “If only my beloved was here to bestow me some loving kisses, especially when they look so alluring in their new lipstick! If only!” 

You raised an eyebrow at Tartaglia’s shenanigans as if asking him: Really? What is this damsel in distress act? Nonetheless, luckily for the 11th, his oh-so-subtle hints hit the mark, because you happily cupped his cheeks and smooched them with fervor, feeling his warm skin under your lips as he chuckled.  

Needless to say, your lipstick didn’t stand a chance.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “THE WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK…” ── .✦ ( batboys w an unhinged!reader and blunt!reader )

a/n: this is from my little brain of mine , and I like to honor it for @kyriakis anywhoo I’m back and omg 1k?! Alsoo guys dw! I’m gonna do the event tomorrow && I’m gonna pick out some prompts I have organized, so i didn't forget okay but i just got a lot of DMs asking when I’m gonna do it for you guyss so yeah it’s gonna be tomorrow since I’m gonna re-edit + add some ideas of your guys votes!! Tags: (batboys x unhinged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s always caught off guard but loves it. Your bluntness is a breath of fresh air for Dick, who’s so used to diplomatic conversations. You say whatever’s on your mind with zero filter, and he’s like, “Oh, wow. Okay. I respect it.”

Hates it when you don’t hold back with him. He’s used to being the charming, funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but you hit him with a “That was dumb, don’t do that again” and his brain short circuits for a second. “You can’t just say that!” “Why not?”

Finds it hilarious when you wreck other people’s egos. You have zero time for anyone’s nonsense, and when someone messes up, you let them know. Dick’s in the background, trying not to laugh. “Do you not think before you speak?!…” He’s always acts so shocked but hey, he’s kinda enjoying it unless it’s aimed at him. (He can’t fight verbally for the life of him without saying some cringe shit)

Doesn’t even try to change you. Dick knows what he’s getting into, and he loves you for it. He’s never going to ask you to ‘tone it down.’ He actually finds your unapologetic attitude pretty hot.

He’s 50% worried you’ll get into trouble, 50% impressed. But in the end, he’ll always back you up, saying, “She’s just honest. Get used to it.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finally, someone who speaks his language. Jason lives for the fact that you don’t care what people think. He loves how blunt you are, especially when you cut through the BS with the precision of a sharp knife.

Gets protective when people try to push your boundaries. If someone dares disrespect you, Jason’s the first one to step in. “You’ve got a problem with her? You’ve got a problem with me.”, “Jason that was so fucking cringey..”

Appreciates that you don't sugarcoat things for him. You’ll tell him exactly how it is, whether it’s about his attitude or a bad decision he made, and he respects it, it’s like the tt sound where “that’s when it hit me, it was the best idea I ever had..” but like this: “Not gonna lie, that was a terrible plan, Jay,” and he’ll just nod. “Fair.”

You guys have the most chaotic, weirdest conversations. It’s a mix of witty banter, ridiculous one-liners, and deadpan sarcasm. Other people can’t even keep up with the energy.

The idea of dating a ‘good girl’ never appealed to him anyway. He thrives off your unhinged energy. You’re unpredictable, and it keeps him on his toes, which he loves. “Yeah, you’re definitely not boring.” (Although the thing is he does love innocent people, like if you’re like gen clueless he wants preserve your innocence.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s brain can’t keep up with you. Your blunt, no-nonsense attitude constantly makes him blink in confusion. One minute you’re casually roasting someone, and the next, you’re giving a straight-up critique of his latest plan. He’s learning that he can’t outthink you.

He admires your unapologetic honesty. Tim has a lot of internalized doubts, so watching you casually reject anyone’s judgment is a nice contrast. You don’t apologize for your thoughts, and it’s something he secretly admires.

Constantly second-guesses himself around you. Your sharp tongue makes him want to be as confident as you. He gets nervous about saying anything that might sound soft, so when he stumbles, you’re like, “What was that? I swear you just whispered something.” And he’ll blush hard, muttering an apology.

You both have a sarcastic sense of humor that others don’t quite get. You say something outrageous, and Tim will respond with the driest remark possible. People in the room often wonder if you two are joking or just genuinely a bit rude.

Not scared to call him out. When Tim’s too nice, you’ll be like, “You need to stop letting people walk all over you. Grow some teeth.” Tim won’t admit it, but that does motivate him to be a little bolder.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit taken aback at first. He’s used to people being respectful or like seeing him as kinda a role model, so when you come out with a “That’s dumb, don’t even talk to me right now,” he’s not sure how to handle it. He will stand there, blinking, while processing your bluntness. (He’s too stunned to speak 😞)

Genuinely respects your forthrightness, though. “I’ll admit, I have never met someone so… honest.” He starts respecting you even more, thinking you’re someone he can’t manipulate or charm easily.

Loves that you’re as stubborn as he is. If you’re determined about something, there’s no changing your mind. You’ll fight for your opinions even if it gets you into a heated debate. And Damian’s right there with you, arguing like it’s the most fun thing in the world.

Tries to match your bluntness. “You talk too much,” he says one day, and you immediately reply, “And yet, here you are, listening to every word I say.” Damian actually pauses for a second, impressed. “Right..”

Loves how you’ll shut down his critics with zero hesitation. Someone says something disrespectful to him, and you’ll be the first to shoot back, “He doesn’t need your advice, trust me.” He’ll give you a proud little smirk. “I like the way you handle things.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, Bruce is a bit disconcerted by your bluntness. Bruce’s the kind of guy who expects people to be formal and classy, and you just come in with “This entire meeting is a waste of my time. I don’t care about any of this.” He blinks, then quietly admires your bravery.

Totally respects your unfiltered honesty. Bruce has had enough of the world’s games, so when you don’t bother to pretend or hold anything back, it’s like a breath of fresh air for him.

Secretly loves when you don’t play nice." He knows you're not afraid of saying what you think, and when you call him out on his brooding or overly protective behavior, he listens. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not trusting you more.” (He totally doesn’t have a tracker on your hair clip..🥰)

You both have moments of pure savage honesty that no one else gets. There’s no need for filters, and you’ll both exchange one-liners so dry that it leaves everyone else in the room confused.

Finds it endearing when you make his plans more interesting. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?” You snap at him in a room full of his board members, and he just gives you a look that says, “I’m never apologizing for you.”

[hueseok]

can’t stop thinking about boyfriend!yoongi who in a way, found his match with you.

for decades, his oldest friends always teased him for being the textbook definition of ‘nonchalant’, labeling him as a stoic man who loved to pretend that he didn’t care about anything—even though in reality, there were always a few tells that made it obvious that he did.

he was the type of guy who made it seem like he didn’t care if you forgot about his birthday, but would send a joke afterwards saying that he was disappointed that you didn’t remember.

or the type who acted like it didn’t matter to him if the meal he worked hard on cooking tasted delicious for your taste buds, only to grin really wide as soon as you complimented him and uttered a string of praises afterwards.

it was an endearing quality of yoongi’s, a rather fascinating trait that also became the butt of the joke at times whenever the topic was his love life and his bad luck when it came to relationships.

“you can come off as emotionally unavailable,” hoseok told him over beer once. “ladies don’t like that. they want men who can tell them how special they are.”

“isn’t it enough that i show it?” yoongi asked, having just been dumped by the girl he was dating. “i mean, i drive her to work every single day. i fetch her from work whenever i can too. i buy her stuff if it’s necessary, like shampoo or paper towels.”

hoseok stared at him. “paper towels?”

“yeah.”

“wow. i take it all back. you are the most romantic man on the planet.”

yoongi rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. “she mentioned she was running out of them so i bought more for her.”

“are you her dad or something?”

“i heard ladies like a provider.”

“yes, but not in that sense. it’s more like… you get the bill whenever you’re having lunch or dinner at a restaurant, or buying her a bag she’s been eyeing, or paying for her nails when she gets them done. doing all of that without not being asked is the key aspect of it, really.”

“how do you know this stuff?”

hoseok shrugged. “i have an older sister,” he says. “also, i’m engaged to my girlfriend of 6 years. being in a relationship that long ought to teach you a lot.”

thanks to that conversation, yoongi began understanding what it really meant to be a great and affectionate boyfriend without sacrificing his rather reserved personality. he knew what the right gestures to do, what the right things to say, what the right gifts to buy—and he did all of that with utmost sincerity, genuinely wanting to be a better partner for his current girlfriend, which also happened to be you.

the funny thing, though?

you couldn’t seem to recognize the nice boyfriend things yoongi was doing and how much he improved compared to his last relationship.

you were just… independent, he thought. a strong woman who didn’t like to be coddled and didn’t like asking help from anyone regardless of how much you may be already struggling. he had a realization that you were naturally like this because of the stories you used to tell him that made him understand that you just weren’t used to relying on others, a trait that he didn’t have an issue with and sometimes even admired.

however, he couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t sometimes frustrating as well.

for example, just last week, the both of you had a semi-big fight because of how you constantly insisted on changing the broken lightbulb in your bedroom yourself even though yoongi was already telling you that he could do it instead. in the end, since you were stubborn as hell, you still tried changing it on your own but had a very minor injury due to falling off the stool you were standing on for extra height.

yoongi was furious when he found out, and you ultimately became furious because it seemed like he was being unfair to you, the negative energy impacting your mood and rationality that you didn’t get how he was more mad on the fact that you let your pride get to you than just asking for his damn help for the freaking lightbulb.

when the both of you calmed down and said your apologies, yoongi took your hands and looked directly in your eyes. “babe, you have to start depending on me,” he said.

the straightforwardness caught you off guard. “huh?”

“i mean…” you felt him squeeze your fingers softly, “i understand that you’re used to doing things all on your own… how you don’t like being treated like some baby… but that shouldn’t be the case with me, okay? i’m here to take care of you, to always help you with whatever you need.”

you opened your mouth, about to say something he knew was not going to align with his point, so he took the liberty to cut you off.

“i’m serious. you know what i’m talking about. let me take care of you, ____.”

“but—” you couldn’t continue with your sentence, a wave of emotions suddenly flooding you that made your throat tighten and voice quiver as you began speaking again— “how? i… i don’t—i just… you don’t need to. i don’t want to be a burden.”

yoongi gave you a look, a mixture of fondness and disbelief. “you? a burden?”

“yeah. you don’t need to take care of me.”

“i’m well aware that you’re a grown woman who doesn’t need taking care of.” he joked. “but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to do it. that’s why if i were you, i would just start depending on my poor boyfriend and learn how to be comfortable in being taken care of because it’s definitely how things are going to be now that he’s here.”

you snorted at the use of third person. “fine,” you sniffled, “okay, i’ll try to be better at asking for help next time.”

he sighed in relief, releasing your hands to instead engulf you in a tight embrace. “thank you, baby. i appreciate it a lot.”

****

the first time you willingly asked yoongi for a favor after that talk—regardless of how small and trivial it was—it still affected him big time.

“can you help me assemble the drawer i bought?” you asked him over dinner, ever so casual and nonchalant.

he almost dropped the chopsticks he was holding. “what?”

“i said, can you—”

“no, i heard that perfectly well. i’m just surprised at what i’m hearing.”

your lips twitched while your face visibly burned. “don’t start teasing me or else—”

“i’m not.” he laughed, a little too loudly than usual, before reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. “i’m not, i swear. i’m just happy.”

“you’re happy because i’m asking for help?”

“i’m happy because you’re letting me take care of you,” he corrected. “it’s a bit overdue in my opinion but who am i to complain?”

you playfully shoved his hand away, which made yoongi laugh harder and lean towards you to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, letting you know that your simple effort of trying to let him in meant so much more than words could ever say.

note. this blurb is unedited and has been in my drafts since december because it's always yoongi missing hours!!!!! but for real though, i wish yoongi is doing great and is always surrounded by good people who can give him the support he needs + remind him how loved he is :(

[witherby]

I really want to see Littlest Wayne having more interactions with the justice league, especially Hal! That bit of him getting emotional after the baby says his name was adorable 😭

You don't have to tell me twice. Get ready to get a lot of uncles and aunts 🤭 featuring more Bruce x Hal because I'm shameless

Slightly spoilerly warning: ⚠️ Emetophobia ⚠️

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Team

Masterlist is Here!

"Oh! No. No, I don't — I'm good, actually. No thanks."

Clark gives Hal a curious look, but doesn't try to pass you over to him after that initial rejection. He smiles down at you and goes back to gently tracing the tip of his finger up and down the bridge of your nose. Your eyes droop almost immediately, then you're asleep a minute later.

"They're beautiful, Bruce," Diana says, clapping a hand against his back. Bruce, to his credit, barely stumbles.

"No names in costume," he says.

"You literally brought us your infant child to coo at," Barry chimes in, cracking open a bag of chips. "They're in a Cookie Monster onesie. I think we can let it slide just the once."

"Hnn," Bruce mutters. He lets the edges of his cape fall over his chest, cloaking his limbs and torso until he looks like one, solid shape. "Only the once."

Barry grins, zipping past him to stand in front of Clark and gush over your snoozing form. Oliver held you for a minute when Bruce first showed up to introduce you to the team, then Dinah stole you from him and peppered kisses all over your face until you were squealing with laughter. J'onn carefully held you how he was instructed and told everyone you were thinking about how colorful they each looked. Arthur jokingly asked if Bruce wanted him to baptize you. Arthur swiftly lost his baby privileges. Then Diana held you kind of like someone weighing a ham, nodded once, called you "phenomenal," and handed you off to Clark, where you currently remain.

It was a little curious to see Hal so vehemently refuse to hold you when, as far as Bruce can see, he hasn't taken his eyes off you the whole time you've been in the Watchtower. Even more curiously, before Clark did that little nose trick to get you to sleep, you'd been staring right back at him.

Bruce could go Full Investigation Mode on this, but he understands that it might be a bit much to do to someone he's only been seeing for, like, ten weeks. They haven't even talked about labels yet.

So he does a small guilt trip instead.

Just a small one. Microscopic, really.

Completely harmless.

When he holds out his arms for you, Clark reluctantly surrenders, and you snuggle up to your father with a soft huff. Bruce delicately thumbs over your cheek, taking a moment to admire you, then carries you over to Hal and puts his very harmless plan into motion.

"It's a shame you hate my baby."

Hal looks like he got shot. Guilt Trip Plan: 6/10, too traumatizing. Refine for future use.

"I'm kidding," Bruce says, trying to cushion the blow. "Calm down."

"Jesus, Spooky," Hal mutters, rubbing his temples, "do you ever just ask normal questions outright?"

"Of course I do," Bruce says. "Last night, when we were both free, I asked you if you were interested in having se—"

"Okay!" He waves his hands, glancing at you with panicked eyes, which Bruce finds absurd. You're barely old enough to comprehend the fact that you have a body, let alone the ability to start processing language. You don't even know your name. You do kind of recognize Bruce's voice, but mainly when he's changing or feeding you, and only by his tone. It's all just senseless noise for you, otherwise, stimuli you allow to wash over you without putting conscious thought to it.

Bruce sighs and takes a smaller step closer to Hal. Hal takes a step back.

"I'm very curious about where this is coming from," Bruce says, choosing to be blunt. "You're fantastic with children, in and out of costume."

He takes another step forward. Hal takes another step back.

"Yeah, sure — kids and stuff — not babies," Hal says. "Kids can walk and talk and aren't...y'know, breakable."

"The baby isn't made of glass, Lantern."

One step forward. One step back.

"I know that! But they're also, y'know...just there. Kids are just tiny people. Babies are babies."

One step forward. One step back.

"I feel obligated to inform you that babies are also classified as people. They have social security numbers, birth certificates —"

One step forward. One step back.

"You know what I meant, don't get smart with me."

"I'm trying to know what you mean, actually. It's not like you don't want to hold them, I can see in your face that you do. The question is why you won't."

One step forward. One step back.

"Bruce, I need you to turn that gorgeous detective brain off for ten seconds and realize how intense you're being. I'm literally being backed into a corner."

Bruce stops walking. Hal can't walk back anymore because he's flush against the wall. Oops.

He acquiesces with a step back and turns his focus back on you. Your eyes are twitching under the lids. He wonders what you're dreaming about.

"This child is mine," Bruce says quietly. "I'm not asking you to step up and play stepfather, Hal, but this is a package deal. Them, and my boys. If that's too much...if that's a deal breaker —"

"Oh," Hal says, "no. Hey, no, of course it isn't! I'm not like that, B, I'm just — I've never — ugh."

He wills the domino mask away so he can rub his eyes, groaning, then shakes his head.

"They always puke!"

Bruce pauses. Thinks. Comes up empty. "Elaborate."

"Babies! Every time I hold a baby, they vomit on me. It's like some horrible magic trick or something, but I swear to you, I've never held a baby and it be able to keep its formula down."

Hal looks very distressed as he admits this, gesturing emphatically to get his point across. Bruce finds it endearing.

"Babies are the most adorable things on the planet. You think I don't wanna take them from you and snuggle up on the couch all day? I do! But they're gonna hurl about it!"

"Okay."

"I swear I'm not lyi— okay?"

"Okay," Bruce says. "I don't want you to get puked on, and I don't want to clean up more baby vomit than I have to. It stains absolutely everything it touches. It's a nightmare." He shifts his weight, rocking you slowly when you start to fuss. Is it a bad dream, or do you feel stuffy in the onesie? He'll take you home and get you down in the crib, soon. "But that's good to know. We'll figure something out."

"We will?" Hal says. "You aren't upset?"

"No. In fact, thank you for admitting it. I would have been pissed if you made my baby spit up and didn't warn me ahead of time."

Hal snorts. Bruce cracks a small smile, looking back down at your sleeping form. You seem to be settling again.

"So you'll have to wait a little longer to say hi to uncle Hal," he murmurs. "That's fine."

"Sorry for eavesdropping, but if he's Uncle Hal, can I be Uncle Clark?" The Kryptonian asks, almost shyly as he floats over. "Also, I didn't make the baby spit up. Can I hold 'em again?"

"We get to be uncles?? Hell yesssss," Barry says, pumping his fist.

"I will be the most impressive uncle among you," Diana declares, cracking her knuckles. "How do we battle for such a title?"

"You're an Auntie, Di."

"Then I will be the most impressive auntie among you."

"I think we're all just gonna let you have that one. You win."

Diana smiles, triumphant.

[adieutristana]

hi, i do! i’ve just yet to receive any requests for vi by herself, but i’d be happy to write this :) thank you for the request!

summary; quiet mornings with vi and her girlfriend.

characters included; vi

tags/warnings; fluff, casual dom vi, butch wife material or whatever they say, domesticity, maaaaybe a bit suggestive?

men and minors dni.

you’re awoken to the smell of breakfast cooking.

the spot next to you is empty, an indent on the mattress from where vi once laid. the light shines through open blinds and you reflexively bring an arm up to cover your eyes. groaning, you turn away from the window to look at the bedside clock: 8:41 am.

you wished vi was still with you, it would’ve been nice to wake up in her arms like usual… oh, well. breakfast is nice too.

you swing your legs over the side of the bed and try to rub the sleep from your eyes, slowly making your way to the kitchen. you’re greeted by the sight of vi’s back turned to you, white sports bra and black sweats. she’s clearly too absorbed to have noticed you, intently working on whatever she’s making.

you approach her slowly, a bit cautiously as to not startle her while she’s over a hot stove, but slowly snake your arms around her waist, pressing your cheek into her shoulder. vi lets out a little ‘hmm’ in acknowledgment, but doesn’t turn around.

“up already, babe?”

she remarks, right hand busy with a frying pan.

“yeah. couldn’t sleep without you there.”

“sorry, sorry. wanted to do something nice for you.”

you hum in acknowledgment, pressing further into vi’s back and grazing one hand over toned abs.

“what are you making?”

“surprise.”

she remarks. vi knows just how much you hate surprises, not knowing things. although you know you could very easily look over vi’s shoulder and see for yourself, that could ruin half of the fun. you simply hold vi from behind her, relishing in the warmth that her body offered you. it was always so peaceful, getting to hold her, to be close to her like this. this morning, it seemed as if time stood still.

vi could be moving throughout the kitchen, you’d seen her do it several times while cooking, but she was also considerate. you knew that she’d never want to ruin your fun. dating vi meant that if she had to give little things up, she would. wether that meant her not moving an inch when you slept for hours on her lap, or staying still while cooking because your arms were around her, vi was sweet.

sweet in a way that not many people got to see.

and yet, you found yourself excited at the prospect of eating breakfast she had prepared because her cooking was always so damn good. not many people would think it, but with vi leading a group of ragtag teens and tweens- as well as being an older sister, she’d learned to cook quite young. she frequently cooked for herself, used whatever scraping the kitchen to throw together something edible.

she hadn’t put too much effort into making her meals nice since the incident on the bridge, until she met you. now she feels as if she has a point to prove. or maybe it’s just that she loves you.

“almost done, cupcake. you just sit down and be patient, okay?”

she says, voice laced with affection. you nod slowly, pouting the slightest bit behind her as you let go of her. but you sit down at her dining table, elbows propped as you observe her. it’s almost effortless the way that she moves. it’s admirable.

vi walks over to you, holding out a plate of simple blueberry pancakes. she knew you had a taste for sweet things. she sits down opposite you after you take the plate, a soft smile playing at her lips.

“are you gonna eat anything?”

you ask before you even pick up your fork. you don’t want to be selfish, not with vi especially.

“i already ate. woke up early today, fixed myself something, and figured you’d be up later.”

she says, pointing to your fork. cueing you to start eating. you do, picking up a knife as well to cut the stack into slices. after covering it in sweet syrup, you take a bite and immediately close your eyes in contentment. this is good.

“you didn’t have to do this, you know…”

“of course i did. i’m your girlfriend, remember?”

you sigh, continuing to eat. swallowing the last of what’s in your mouth before you speak to her again.

“but i’ve never done something like this before.”

you sigh, looking off to the side. you hear a low chuckle from your girlfriend.

“trust me, hun, you do plenty for me in other departments.”

this elicits a slight flush rising to your face, deciding to just focus on eating the rest of your pancakes. as you finish the last of the sliced bits, you look up to see vi wearing that same soft smile she wears whenever she’s genuinely admiring you. it’s adorable, one of your favorite looks your girlfriend gives you. one you’ve become accustomed to.

vi stands up to take your plate from you, but not before you tug on one of the straps of her sports bra to bring you to her level. moving your lips slowly against her own, free hand resting on the small of your back. she gives a light giggle as she presses back into you, toned arms slowly wrapping around your neck.

“i’ll do the laundry today, since you cooked.”

you say, face still mere millimeters from vi’s. she smiles softly before shaking her head.

“nope. you’re relaxing today.”

“but-”

“no.”

“you cooked for-”

vi shakes her head again, brushing your jawline with her lips.

“i cooked because i want you to take it easy, and i like doing things for you. now, you’re gonna take your pretty self to the couch, or bed, and relax. and i’ll do the work today. alright?”

you groan in slight annoyance, but sigh. you know there’s no winning when vi gets in these moods. she only wants to see you taken care of, and she’ll be damned if that isn’t what happens.

count on vi to always put the needs of others before her own. she’d gotten better at taking care of herself during your relationship, but the way she put your wants and needs before her own never wavered. if anything, it got stronger with time.

“alright. but i’ll still do things tomorrow.”

“you can do whatever you want tomorrow.”

she hums, sitting down on the chair you were previously using. her arms are still draped around your neck, pulling you to sit on her lap. the second you make contact with her thighs, her lips are on yours again.

it’s breathless, a bit more rushed than the delicate kiss you had shared a few moments prior. but it’s perfect, it’s vi. the way her scarred lips move against yours is always so skillful yet so sweet.

“i love you, okay? i just want you to unwind sometimes.”

you nod slowly, pressing your forehead to your girlfriend’s and closing your eyes.

“i love you too, babe. just feel a bit… bad, not doing anything in return.”

“i don’t want anything in return,” she whispers. “this-” she points between the two of you, “is more than enough.”

[s4kura-tr3]

Hello, is there a way you could do something like they saw us working out and they saw we had like... smexy muscles... (Wiggles brows)

ESPECIALLY WITH TOJI RAH

Definitely not my best work 😞

Tw: cursing, suggestive.

Gojo satoru — Gojo Satoru strolled into the room, his usual carefree energy radiating from him. But the moment his eyes landed on you, he froze, the sight before him wiping any thoughts of mischief or banter from his mind—well, almost.

There you were, mid-workout, your muscles taut and flexing as you pushed through your last set of reps. Your tank top clung to your body, damp with sweat, and the way the light caught your glistening skin made you look absolutely radiant. Gojo’s hand immediately went to his blindfold, tugging it down with a dramatic flourish to get an unobstructed view. His vibrant blue eyes gleamed with interest and something deeper as he leaned casually against the doorframe, taking his time to admire you.

“Holy hell,” he finally said, his voice low but undeniably teasing. “Did I just walk into an exclusive workout show? Because, wow, you’re putting the rest of us mortals to shame.”

You glanced his way, panting slightly from exertion, and shot him an unimpressed look. “Gojo, I’m busy.”

“Oh, I can see that,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering closer with that signature smirk plastered across his face. “Busy looking absolutely illegal. Seriously, you’ve got to warn a guy before you start flexing like that. My poor heart can’t take it.”

Rolling your eyes, you set the weights down, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from your face. But Gojo wasn’t letting you off that easily. He circled around you like he was inspecting a masterpiece, his gaze lingering on every inch of you in a way that made your skin flush under the heat of his attention.

“You know,” he continued, his voice dropping into a huskier tone, “it’s almost unfair how good you look right now. The sweat, the muscles, the determination—ugh, it’s honestly too much. You’re going to give me a complex. How am I supposed to compete with this level of hotness?”

“Compete?” you asked, arching a brow as you took a sip of water. “Pretty sure you’re just here to distract me.”

“Distract you?” he repeated with mock offense, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest. “Me? Never. I’m just here as a very supportive observer. You know, the type who notices how insanely toned your arms are. And your legs. And… wow, is that a new muscle definition I see? Babe, you’ve been holding out on me.”

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t let him see how much his words affected you. Instead, you shot back, “Keep talking, and I’ll make you join me for the next set.”

Gojo’s grin widened, and he stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly over your arm. “Oh, trust me, I’m tempted,” he murmured, his voice velvety smooth now. “But watching you like this? It’s honestly better than any workout I could ever do. You’re just… stunning.”

The rare sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you glanced up at him. His eyes were softer now, but still filled with that mischievous spark that made your heart skip a beat.

“Careful, Gojo,” you warned with a smirk of your own. “Flattery might make me think you actually want to work out with me.”

He chuckled, leaning down slightly so his face was closer to yours. “Oh, I’d work out with you any day,” he murmured, his tone dripping with flirtation. “But let’s be honest—if we’re sweating together, I’d much rather it be… another kind of workout.”

Your jaw dropped at his shameless comment, and you shoved him away, your laughter mixing with his. “You’re impossible!”

“And yet, you love me,” he teased, dodging your swats as he leaned in again, planting a quick kiss on your temple before pulling back with a wink. “Now, finish up, gorgeous. You’ve got me all inspired to work up a sweat later… with or without weights.”

Gojo walked off with a smug bounce in his step, leaving you flustered, exasperated, and, of course, completely enamored.

Geto Suguru — Geto Suguru wasn’t planning to linger when he walked into the room, but the moment he saw you working out, every other thought left his mind. The rhythmic movement of your body, the sharp focus in your expression, and the way the sweat clung to your skin caught him off guard. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

For a while, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching you in silence. There was something mesmerizing about seeing you like this—so determined, so powerful. He wasn’t the type to gush, but there was no denying that the sight before him was stirring something in him.

When you finished your set and set the weights down, panting slightly, his deep, smooth voice broke the quiet. “You know,” he said, his tone casual but with a teasing edge, “this might be my favorite version of you.”

You glanced over, startled to see him there, his lean frame relaxed against the wall and that damn smirk plastered across his face. “Suguru, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he replied smoothly, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. He pushed off the wall and began walking toward you, each step deliberate and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Watching you like this is… fascinating.”

You grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from your face as you raised an eyebrow at him. “Fascinating? I’m literally just working out.”

“Oh, it’s much more than that,” he countered, stopping a few feet away and tilting his head as he let his gaze sweep over you unapologetically. “The way you move, the strength in every motion—it’s impressive. Beautiful, even.”

His words caught you off guard, and you tried to brush off the compliment. “You’re being dramatic. I’m just trying to stay in shape.”

Suguru chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “Trust me, I don’t exaggerate. Watching you like this? It’s like seeing art in motion. Strong, determined, completely in control. You’re incredible.”

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “Well, enjoy the show, I guess,” you said dryly, reaching for your water bottle

“Oh, I intend to,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, a playful edge lacing his tone. “But I’m warning you now—I might get addicted to this view. You’re going to have to let me watch you work out more often.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of water and trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on you. “You’re ridiculous, Suguru.”

“And yet, you’re smiling,” he pointed out, his smirk softening into something more genuine. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he spoke, his voice quieter now. “You’re amazing, you know that? The way you push yourself, the way you carry yourself—it’s impossible not to admire you.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you found yourself meeting his gaze, your breath hitching at the intensity in his eyes. “Suguru…”

His lips curved into a softer smile, his voice warm and teasing as he broke the tension. “But don’t let it go to your head. You’re already impossible to resist—I don’t need you getting cocky too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you swatted at him with your towel. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Only with you,” he said smoothly, catching your wrist with surprising gentleness. His fingers lingered there for a moment, his touch warm and grounding. “Though, if you really want me to stop, you’re going to have to teach me how to keep my eyes off you. Because right now? I don’t think I could if I tried.”

Your cheeks flushed at his boldness, and you shook your head, pulling your hand away as you turned back to your workout gear. “You’re impossible,” you muttered.

Suguru chuckled, his rich voice filling the space as he moved to sit on the bench nearby, his gaze never leaving you. “Maybe. But you love me for it.”

You didn’t respond, but the small smile tugging at your lips gave you away. And as you picked up the weights to start your next set, you could feel his eyes on you, warm and unwavering, his presence a steady reminder of just how deeply he admired you.

Nanami kento — Nanami Kento wasn’t someone who indulged in distractions, especially during his rare moments of downtime. He valued efficiency and order, even in his personal life. But when he returned home earlier than expected and heard the faint clink of weights in the other room, curiosity got the better of him. He loosened his tie and set his briefcase down quietly, walking toward the sound.

He paused in the doorway. There you were, mid-workout, sweat dripping down your brow, muscles flexing as you pushed through your reps. Your focus was sharp, completely unaware of his presence, and something about that made him stop and watch.

Nanami wasn’t the type to ogle or make unnecessary remarks, but he couldn’t help the way his gaze lingered, admiring the strength and determination in your movements. You had always impressed him, but seeing you like this—powerful, resilient, and utterly in your element—it struck a chord deep within him.

When you set the weights down and reached for your water bottle, his voice broke the silence, calm and steady as always. “You’re working hard.”

You startled slightly, turning to find him standing there, his tie undone, his shirt sleeves rolled up. His expression was as composed as ever, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

“Kento,” you said, catching your breath. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he replied, stepping into the room. His gaze flicked to the equipment before settling back on you. “I didn’t realize you were so serious about this.”

You wiped your face with a towel, shrugging lightly. “It helps me clear my head. And, you know, staying in shape isn’t a bad thing.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, the kind that was easy to miss if you didn’t know him well. “It’s impressive,” he said simply.

The straightforwardness of his compliment caught you off guard. “It’s just a workout, Kento.”

He stepped closer, his hands slipping into his pockets as he regarded you thoughtfully. “It’s not just a workout. It’s discipline. Focus. You don’t do things halfway, and it shows.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the genuine admiration in his tone. “I didn’t think you’d care about something like this.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady. “I care because it’s you. Seeing you like this… it’s a reminder of how remarkable you are.”

The warmth in his words made your cheeks flush, and you looked away, trying to play it off. “You’re making it sound like I just climbed Mount Everest or something.”

Nanami chuckled softly, the sound low and rare, but unmistakably genuine. “No, but the effort you put in is no less admirable.”

You hesitated, then shot him a playful look. “Are you sure you’re not just saying this because you feel guilty for coming home late all the time?”

His smile widened—just barely—but it was enough to make your stomach flip. “If I did, would it make you feel better?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe.”

Nanami stepped closer, his presence calm and grounding as always. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice softer now, “I mean every word. You’re extraordinary, whether you see it or not.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes leaving you momentarily speechless. “Kento…”

He straightened, clearing his throat as if to reestablish his usual composed demeanor. “Don’t let me keep you from finishing your workout,” he said, his tone professional again. But as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Though, if you ever want a partner, let me know. I’d like to see if I can keep up.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart racing and a small smile tugging at your lips. Nanami Kento didn’t need grand gestures or flowery words. Somehow, his quiet admiration and steady presence were more than enough.

Toji fushiguro — Toji Fushiguro didn’t mean to interrupt when he walked into the room, but the sight of you mid-workout stopped him in his tracks. For a moment, he just stood there, leaning against the doorway with a lazy smirk, watching you as you pushed through your reps. The muscles in your arms flexed with each movement, sweat dripping down your brow, and the sheer focus on your face made something stir deep in his chest.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his deep voice cutting through the quiet hum of your workout music. “If I’d known you were hiding this in here, I might’ve shown up sooner.”

You didn’t even look up, finishing your set before setting the weights down and grabbing your water bottle. “Toji, don’t you have better things to do than bother me while I’m working out?”

“Better things? Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening as he pushed off the doorframe and strolled into the room. His green eyes swept over you unabashedly, taking in every inch of your glistening, toned form. “You look good like this. Strong. Focused. Kinda sexy, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” you shot back, taking a sip of water and ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

Toji chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he dropped onto the bench across from you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze never leaving you. “C’mon, don’t play coy. You’re out here showing off those muscles—you can’t expect me not to look.”

You wiped the sweat from your face with a towel, throwing him a pointed glare. “I’m working out, Toji. Not putting on a show for you.”

“Sure,” he said, shrugging, though the playful glint in his eyes didn’t waver. “But it’s a hell of a show anyway. Seriously, you been hiding this from me? Those arms could probably knock someone out. I’m almost impressed.”

“Almost?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Yeah, almost. You’d have to spar with me to really prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth quirked up despite yourself. “Right. Like you’d play fair.”

“Who said anything about fair?” he shot back, his grin turning sharper. “I’d let you win. Maybe.”

Shaking your head, you turned back to your weights, but you could still feel his gaze on you, heavy and heated. “If you’re going to sit there and stare, at least make yourself useful. Hand me the heavier dumbbells.”

Toji barked a laugh, standing and grabbing the weights with ease before setting them down in front of you. “You sure about that, sweetheart? Don’t want you overworking yourself.”

“I can handle it,” you said, your tone firm as you picked them up.

“Oh, I know you can,” he said, his voice dropping as he watched you lift. “You’re tougher than most people I know. But seeing you like this? Pushing yourself? It’s… something else.”

The shift in his tone caught you off guard, and you glanced at him. For a moment, the teasing glint in his eyes was replaced by something warmer, more genuine.

“You’re impressive,” he said simply, shrugging as though it was no big deal. “Strong, determined, and hot as hell. I’d be an idiot not to notice.”

You paused, his words sinking in, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Toji…”

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, the grin returning to his face. He reached out, brushing a bead of sweat off your temple with his thumb, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you set the weights down. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stunning,” he replied without missing a beat, his voice low and steady. “Now finish up. If you’re this strong now, I wanna see what you can do with a real challenge. Sparring session, tomorrow. You in?”

You met his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “Only if you promise not to hold back.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his smirk turning downright predatory. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before turning to leave. And as you picked up your weights again, you couldn’t help but smile, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the workout.

Sukuna Ryomen — Sukuna wasn’t used to being surprised, but when he materialized in the middle of your workout, he found himself pausing, an amused smirk curling across his lips. You were focused, muscles taut as you pushed through another grueling set, sweat glistening on your skin and making your form all the more striking. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and that only added to his amusement.

He leaned lazily against the wall, crimson eyes gleaming with interest. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he remarked, his voice deep and smooth, cutting through the quiet.

Startled, you looked up, your breath hitching when you saw him watching you, that familiar smug grin plastered on his face. “Sukuna,” you said, wiping the sweat from your brow. “What are you doing here?”

“Appreciating the view,” he replied, his gaze shamelessly roaming over you. “I didn’t know you had this in you. A little warrior hidden beneath all that charm. Makes me wonder what else you’re hiding.”

You rolled your eyes and picked up your water bottle, taking a long sip before answering. “I’m not hiding anything. And I doubt you came here to flatter me.”

“Flatter you?” he echoed, his smirk widening as he pushed off the wall and sauntered closer. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of danger and allure, and you could feel the heat of his gaze on your skin. “I don’t do flattery. I state facts. And the fact is, you look… enticing like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way his words sent a shiver down your spine. “Enticing? I’m covered in sweat and exhausted.”

“And yet, here I am,” he said, stopping just a few feet away. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in every detail of your appearance. “There’s strength in you. I can see it. Feel it. It’s… intriguing.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him fluster you. “You’re awfully chatty for someone who usually likes to mock me.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and almost predatory. “Oh, don’t mistake this for kindness,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “I’m just fascinated. You’re tougher than I gave you credit for. I like that.”

“Should I be flattered?” you asked dryly.

“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “Or maybe you should be concerned. Strength like yours… it makes me want to test it.”

You held your ground, meeting his gaze with a defiance that only seemed to amuse him further. “Test it how?”

His grin turned sharp, revealing his pointed teeth. “Sparring, fighting, maybe something else entirely,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re strong, but how far can you push yourself? How far can I push you?”

Your cheeks flushed, though whether it was from his words or the way he was looking at you, you couldn’t tell. “You’re impossible, Sukuna.”

“And you’re fascinating,” he countered, his tone softer now but no less intense. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, tracing the curve of your muscles with a deliberate slowness. “All this power, all this potential… it suits you. But don’t get cocky. I’d still crush you in an instant if I wanted to.”

You smirked, swatting his hand away. “I’d like to see you try.”

His laughter filled the room, dark and rich, as he stepped back, his gaze never leaving yours. “Careful what you wish for, little one,” he said, his grin wicked. “You might not like what you find.”

But there was something in his tone, something in the way he looked at you, that told you he wasn’t just teasing. He respected you—your strength, your determination—and that respect, coming from someone like Sukuna, felt like a victory in itself.

Megumi fushiguro — Megumi wasn’t the type to barge into a room without reason, so when he stumbled upon you working out, it wasn’t intentional. He’d been looking for you to ask a quick question, but the moment he saw you, he froze. You were mid-set, muscles flexing as you moved, sweat dripping down your skin and making your determination all the more captivating.

His face immediately heated up, a soft pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly averted his gaze, though his feet stayed rooted to the spot. “Sorry,” he muttered, voice barely loud enough to be heard.

You glanced over your shoulder, spotting him in the doorway. “Megumi? What’s up?”

He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides as he tried to act like he hadn’t just been staring. “Uh… nothing. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll… come back later.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your weights down and grabbing your towel. “You’re not interrupting. What do you need?”

He shifted awkwardly, his gaze flickering to you briefly before he fixed it firmly on the floor. “It’s not important,” he said quickly. “I didn’t know you were… busy.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his obvious discomfort. “Megumi, are you embarrassed?”

“No,” he said immediately, though the redness in his cheeks deepened. “I just—” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize you worked out like this.”

“Like what?” you teased, walking closer.

His eyes darted to you for a split second, taking in the way your skin glistened, the subtle definition in your arms and shoulders. He looked away just as quickly, his jaw tightening. “Like… seriously. You’re stronger than I thought.”

“Thanks,” you said, amused by how flustered he was. “It’s not that big a deal, though.”

“It kind of is,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Most people don’t push themselves that hard.”

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something genuine in his tone, a quiet admiration he wasn’t very good at hiding. “Are you impressed?”

He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of the doorframe. “Maybe,” he muttered.

You grinned, stepping closer until you were standing just a few feet away. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Megumi finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something there—respect, maybe even awe—but it was quickly buried beneath his usual stoicism. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, trying to sound indifferent.

“Too late,” you teased, tossing your towel over your shoulder.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back. “I’ll leave you to it. Just… don’t overdo it, okay? You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

His words caught you off guard, the unexpected softness in them making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Megumi,” you said, your tone gentler now.

He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to leave. But just as he reached the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice low and hesitant. “For what it’s worth… you’re doing great.”

And with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, a warm smile tugging at your lips. Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t one for big gestures or obvious compliments, but his quiet support spoke louder than words ever could.

Yuji itadori — Yuji Itadori was never one to hide his emotions, and when he walked into the room and saw you mid-workout, his reaction was immediate—and loud.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe as he froze in the doorway. “You look amazing!”

Startled, you paused mid-rep, glancing over at him. “Yuji? What are you yelling about now?”

He stepped further into the room, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of you. Your muscles were defined, your skin glistening with sweat, and the sheer determination on your face left him staring. “I’m yelling because you look like a total badass!”

You laughed, setting your weights down and grabbing your water bottle. “It’s just a workout, Yuji. Nothing special.”

“Nothing special?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “Are you kidding me? Look at you! You’re like an action movie hero or something!”

“An action hero?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

He shook his head furiously, his pink hair bouncing with the movement. “Not at all! I mean, you’re strong, you’re focused, and—” He gestured at you with both hands, his cheeks turning pink as he stumbled over his words. “You’re, uh… really cool-looking right now.”

You couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. “Thanks, Yuji. But you’re kind of embarrassing yourself.”

“I don’t care!” he said with a laugh, plopping down on the floor nearby and watching you with wide-eyed admiration. “Seriously, how often do you do this? You’ve got muscles I didn’t even know existed!”

You rolled your eyes but felt a warmth spread through your chest at his genuine excitement. “I work out a few times a week. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal!” he insisted, leaning forward with his chin resting on his hands. “You’re so strong! I bet you could bench press me if you wanted to.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Yuji.”

“No way,” he said, grinning. “You’re a total powerhouse. I’m actually kind of jealous.”

“Jealous?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he said, standing up and flexing his arms dramatically. “I mean, I’m strong, but you’ve got this whole ‘unstoppable warrior’ vibe going on. It’s inspiring!”

You snorted, throwing your towel at him, which he caught with a laugh. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his grin widening. “But I mean it. You’re awesome, and I’m lucky I get to see you like this. It’s motivating!”

“Motivating?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Yeah! I’m totally working out with you next time,” he said, his eyes shining with determination. “I need to level up if I’m going to keep up with you.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Alright, Yuji. You’re on. But don’t complain when I make you do squats.”

“Deal!” he said, holding out his hand for a high five. When you slapped your hand against his, his grin grew even wider. “This is gonna be awesome. You’ll see—I’ll be your workout rival in no time!”

Somehow, you doubted that, but his infectious energy made you laugh all the same. Yuji Itadori was a whirlwind of enthusiasm, and having him around made everything a little brighter—even your workout.

[burningembers91]

Tennessee Whiskey - Kang Dae-Ho x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

A Voice Like Honey

Synopsis: When trouble breaks out at the bar, Kang Dae-Ho steps in to save you

A/N: I just want to give him a big hug 🥹

The bar was full to bursting tonight. There were so many people packed into the tiny space, you were having to turn people away. The sound of laughter, chatter and the ocassional smash as a patron dropped a glass on the tiled floor was almost deafening. But, as soon as you got up to sing, the whole room went silent. Every pair of eyes were trained on you, your golden honey voice, rich and warm, captivating your audience.

Kang Dae-Ho watched you from behind the bar as he polished a glass, mesmerised by your very essence. You were singing Fleetwood Mac covers tonight, and were halfway through his favourite song, Landslide when he noticed them. The group of tourists who had been steadily draining the bars supply of beer since early afternoon. They were pointing at you, making lewd gestures with their hands, sniggering to themselves as they watched you sing.

Dae-Ho gripped the glass in his hand tightly, so tightly he heard it crack. They’d been nothing but trouble since they turned up. Flirting with you, trying to get you to sit at their table with them. You took it in your stride though, never rising to the increasingly salacious comments. You were always so poised, so unfazed. Dae-Ho admired that about you.

Your set finished and you jumped down from the stage, heading back around the bar to join him.

“You sounded great,” his smiled, handing you a glass of water to soothe your parched throat. “You’ll be heard act to follow.”

“You’ll do great,” you reassured him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. Electricity shot through every atom of his body at your touch. He wondered if you knew just how crazy you drove him. “You have an incredible voice.”

Even in the dim light of the bar, you could see the heat rise through his cheeks. You loved making him blush; he always looked so handsome when he did.

As Dae-Ho mounted the stage, his eyes never left you. Each song he played was for you, every word dedicated to you. As his set progressed, the tourists got closer and closer to you. He could see them talking to you, could see you roll your eyes as they leaned on the bar, their eyes trained on your breast. He cut his set short, ignoring the girls who hung around the stage to wait for him. He made his way over to you, his anger rising, his fists balling. He’d learned enough English during his travels to know that nothing the men were saying to you was nice.

“I think you should leave,” Dae-Ho growled, hoping the shake in his voice wasn’t obvious. He hated confrontation, but he hated seeing you harassed even more.

“Why?” One of the tourists asked, his thick southern American accent slurred, evidence of just how inebriated he was. “I was simply offering to buy this beautiful lady a whiskey.”

“I don’t drink whiskey,” you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Dae-Ho could tell you were reaching the end of your tether with them.

“That’s probably cuz you ain’t never tried Tennessee whiskey,” the man winked, his beer scented breath hot on your face.

“Leave her alone.” Dae-Ho gritted his teeth, readying himself for a fight. He’d never fought anyone before, but for you he’d take on an entire army.

“Or what?” The man jabbed a thick finger into his chest, knocking him off balance.

“That’s enough!” You warned, but the men were too drunk to care. Without warning, his fist shot out, catching Dae-Ho square in the face. He stumbled back, falling into the crowd that had formed to watch the drama unfolding.

Dae-Ho tried to scramble to his feet, but there were too many people packed too closely together and he couldn’t move away fast enough. As a fist connected with his face again, he felt hands pulling him by the shoulders, dragging him away. Some of the crowd had clearly seen sense, breaking the fight up before it could escalate.

“Get out!” You snapped at the men, “get out before I call the police.”

You didn’t pay attention to their protestations, hurrying over to Dae-Ho.

“Let me have a look.” You checked his face over, his skin already red and swollen. “We need to ice your face. Can’t have you coming into work with a shiner.”

You took him into the back room, placing an ice pack his eye and jaw. He couldn’t look at you, too embarrassed to see your reaction. He couldn’t even save you from a bunch of drunks. He was nothing, a nobody.

“Those guys were pricks,” you told him, sensing his discomfort. You wished Dae-Ho could see himself the way you did. You wished he saw the funny, sensitive, talented and kind person he was. He always seemed to doubt himself, always seemed to be so unsure. But you could see how amazing he was, could see how much he cared for people, could see how much he cared for you.

“They were nothing more than jumped up cowboys,” you said, removing the ice pack to check his injuries. He’d definitely have a black eye tomorrow.

“Girls like cowboys though,” he mumbled, turning away from you. The shame was crushing, overwhelming.

“Not all girls,” you smiled. “I prefer musicians, who also double as a bartender.”

Dae-Ho looked up at you, momentarily forgetting the throbbing pain in his face.

“You do?” He asked, dumbstruck.

“Mhmm,” you smiled, pulling your stool a little closer to his. Brushing a stray lock of hair that had fallen from his bun, you traced a line down his check. “I like you, Dae-Ho. Very much.”

“Oh. Right.” He screamed at himself to think of something to say, something profound, maybe something sexy. But you always seemed to render him speechless. He’d spent a hundred nights imagining a hundred ways in which he’d tell you how you made him feel. But in this moment, he could only smile.

You’d said it yourself; you didn’t like cowboys, you liked him. Very much. As your lips met his, soft and slow, Dae-Ho was sure he’d never been happier. You tasted like you sang: like honey.

“Walk me home?” You asked, pressing another small kiss on his lips.

“Always,” he smiled. He would never tire of you. His beautiful bartender with a voice like golden honey.

[not-neverland06]

𝚂𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚝

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

Summary: Tensions rise as you continue to pull against Dutch's taut leash. You seem to be the only one who sees him for the trickster he is. Infuriatingly, that means you and Arthur butting heads about the man. But you don't expect your latest fight to end with him coming back to you nearly dead.

As much as you’d love to bask in the newness of whatever this is that you have with Arthur, the law has other plans. While the gang has grown comfortable, fat in their complacency, the Pinkertons have gotten closer. You are beginning to realize just how rare these moments of peace are in the life of an outlaw.

“I’m gonna sell her, I swear,” you tell Arthur angrily as you try and get a stubborn Lady to obey your commands. You finally feel comfortable enough to head back into Valentine, you know the woman he’d been with is gone, Arthur told you as much. You doubt he’d have any reason to lie about something as silly as that.  

Arthur laughs and leans down, smoothing over Diablo’s mane. “No, you ain’t, you like her too damn much.”

“You’re right,” you acquiesce. “I’ll sell her to a glue factory, instead,” Lady lets out a stubborn noise, flicking her head back and forth. “Unless you start to listen, you insolent little bastard.” Arthur brings Diablo to a slow trot while you relentlessly tug on Lady’s reins to no effect.

He watches you struggle, laughing as he hitches up Diablo. When Lady comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the road, he lets out an amused sigh and comes forward to take her reins from you. You hand them over easily, nudging the horse with your spur in retaliation.

He hitches her next to Diablo and rounds her to stand at your side, holding his hand out for you. You take it in your own, relishing his touch as he helps you down from your saddle. Your movements are still clumsy but you’re starting to get a little bit better at riding her. Even if she still refuses to listen to you. 

“If you stopped insultin’ her, I’m sure you’d get along better.” Arthur leads you towards the general store and you glare up at him. 

“Whose side are you on, Mr. Morgan?” He chuckles and leans down, pressing a brief kiss to your cheek. It’s chaste and near prudish, but you still find yourself flushing. 

“Not on anyone’s side, sweetheart. But if you want to start getting along with her, you’ll just have to learn to trust her.” You nod, not listening to anything he’s saying, too busy admiring how handsome he looks. 

He seems to realize what you’re doing, rolling his eyes and pushing you forward. A man’s voice booms through the air, interrupting the both of you. “Well, isn’t this a pretty picture?” You pause, turning to face the man watching you from the porch of the hotel. Men with large guns move around the side of the store and come to stand in front of him.

Your brows furrow, eyes roving across the street, suddenly noticing the stark lack of people out and about. You’d been so distracted by Lady that you hadn’t realized just how dead Valentine was. Something glints in the sunlight on the roof beside the hotel. You narrow your eyes, peering through the glare and seeing a man with his rifle pointed at you and Arthur. 

“I’m sorry,” the man calls out, sounding wholly unapologetic. Arthur’s hand tightens around yours and he drags you slightly behind himself. “I should introduce myself,” the man drawls. 

You take note of his finely tailored clothes, and the way he’s not fully leaning against the wall because he doesn’t want to dirty his suit. The pocket watch attached to his vest is real gold, something you haven’t seen a whole lot of in Valentine. He’s too prim and proper for a low-down town like this. He could easily have been one of the men from the city you grew up in, upper-class and elite. He’s not from around here and he seems to, at least, vaguely recognize Arthur. You don’t see this going any way but bad. 

“Leviticus Cornwall, I believe you’ve heard my name before.”

“God dammit,” Arthur curses under his breath, he nudges you further back in the direction of the horses. Your foot freezes in the air as you hear the familiar click of a rifle being loaded right by your ear. Swallowing hard, you risk the slightest glance back and see another black-suited man with the tip of his rifle pointed squarely between your eyes. 

Arthur sees him in his peripheral, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Cornwall. “I know what you want,” Arthur calls out, one hand raised in surrender, the other still holding yours. “But leave her out of it, she’s got nothin’ to do with any of this.” 

Leviticus laughs and tilts his head patronizingly. “If she’s with your ridiculous little gang, then she’s got something to do with what happened to my train.” Your eyes flutter shut, dread filling every crevice of your body as the realization finally sinks in. In your last days in the mountains, the men had gone off to rob a train. 

They’d mentioned the same name a few times but you’d never cared to pay attention to it. It comes back to you now. Leviticus Cornwall. He was here to collect what they’d stolen.  

“I know you are your master’s favorite little lapdog, so why don’t you go fetch Dutch for me and I won’t have my men splatter your lady’s brains against your boots.” Your nails dig into Arthur’s palms, body tensing with fear as you lean further into him. 

Arthur gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, keeping you firmly tucked into him. “I’m afraid neither of those things is gonna happen, Mr. Cornwall,” Arthur calls out to him. He leans slightly towards you, voice lowered so even the man behind you can’t hear, “When I tell you, make a run for the horses.” 

You so desperately want to look towards where you know Lady and Diablo are hitched by the saloon, but it would only give your plan away. Instead, you force yourself to focus on the man with the rifle pointed at you. You maintain eye contact with the barrel of his gun, refusing to look away. 

You try and force your heart to be silent and still, hoping you’ll be able to hear Arthur’s order over the rushing force of your blood. Arthur keeps a tight grip on your hand as the men begin to close in. 

“I’ll only say this once, Mr. Morgan. This will be your only chance to escape my wrath, alive.”

“Right,” Arthur moves you in front of him and you suck in a shuddering breath when you see just how many men surround you now. They’re everywhere, on the roofs of buildings, on horseback pacing the streets, and the worst of them have their guns trained right on you. “Well, I’ll say this,” he rips his hands out of yours and practically tosses you to the side. “Run!”

You don’t think, just blindly follow his orders and take off towards the horses. The shots start going off instantly, mud flying up around you as bullets narrowly miss you. You run in a wild pattern, trying not to be such an easy target. 

“The times of outlaws is over, Mr. Morgan!” Leviticus calls from behind you, voice tainted with wrath as it penetrates the air. “There’s no place for you anymore!”

You’re running with the instinct of a prey trying to outwit a predator who's actively snapping their maw. It feels futile, though, when you’re so wholly surrounded. Arthur comes up behind you, hand snatching up the back of your shirt and dragging you faster behind him. 

Your feet scramble to keep up with his pace as you make for the horses. The men seem to catch onto your plan faster than you’d hoped. One of them jumps in front of you but his body topples to the ground before he can say a word. When you turn, Arthur’s got his revolver out and the end of it is smoking. 

You’d barely even had time to process the threat before Arthur had shot him. You’d never seen what a quick draw he was in person before. If you weren’t feeling the breeze of bullets whistling past you, you’d have time to be impressed. 

You reach Lady and she’s already stomping and kicking her legs out, terrified by all the noise. You grab her reins, hands shaking as you try and keep yourself steady. You don’t have time to let Arthur help you up. You place your foot in the stirrup and jump, you’re barely seated before she goes flying. 

You lean forward, holding on tight as she moves like fire’s licking at her heels. “Come on, Lady!” You shout, not once looking back to see how many of them are after you. The sounds are getting closer and you swallow bile down as you risk a look over your shoulder. 

Arthur’s just behind you, turned in his saddle, and shooting at as many of them as he can. Lady lets out an odd squeal and your brows furrow, glancing back at her. You see a streak of red across her side and feel your blood rush to your head. 

They’d shot her. They’d shot your damn horse. You don’t even like her all that much, but right now she’s the only thing between you and a bullet through your head. Forcing yourself up, you slip the revolver out of your holster and turn like you watched Arthur do. It’s disorienting, feeling your hips rocking forward while you try and keep a steady aim behind yourself. 

There’s no way for you to know which of them actually managed to knick her. But if they can hit your horse, they’re not far off from hitting you. You don’t have time to take in deep breaths and settle yourself, you can only start wildly shooting and hope you hit one of them. You don’t care to spare your bullets, firing off without any real aim and spotting a few drop from their saddles. You don’t know if it's you or Arthur that claims the kills but they eventually start to slow down and the space between you all grows wider. 

Arthur tucks his gun away and rides up closer. “We need to get back to camp,” he shouts. You nod your head and follow along the path behind him. Your gaze drifts towards the wound across Lady’s side and you run your fingers through her mane as she races back home. 

You brush out Lady’s coat as you wait for Arthur to finish up with Dutch. Hosea had promised that Lady would be fine, horses were sturdy but she’d have to make it through a lot worse if she wanted to stay with the gang. You understood what he meant but you didn’t appreciate it. 

It’s only as you finish up with her that you realize what happened on the way back. You’d seen and, possibly, contributed to more killing and you hadn’t felt a thing about it. Not only that, Arthur had seen you shooting at men with no remorse. 

Your heart flips itself into a knot in your chest as you look over to where he’s speaking with Dutch. He was quiet on the ride back and you’d assumed it was because he was worried more people would show up. What if it was because you ruined your image for him? The only former lover of his you know about was a lady like you. But, now, he sees you as someone who’s perfectly fine riding around and shooting at men without question. What if he doesn’t want you now?

You swallow down the lump in your throat and try to get your fingers to still. You’d been shaking from the adrenaline for the last few minutes. Your blood is still rushing so fast you’re getting dizzy standing still. You try to convince yourself that it’s just the nerves of the day getting to you, but you’re not so sure. 

Arthur finally turns away from Dutch and heads back towards you. You give him a shaky smile but he doesn’t return it. Instead, his brows are set with anger and he’s glowering at you. 

You feel your stomach drop as you scramble for a way to explain why shooting at those men was so easy for you. “Arthur, I’m sorry-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He demands. Your face falls flat and you feel like you might throw up. Has he somehow found out about your husband? “I didn’t realize they’d hit you,” he reaches forward and you frown with confusion. His thumb brushes against your upper arm and you hiss. 

Off instinct, you swat his hand away, fingers stinging at the force. You glance down and notice blood soaking the sleeve of your shirt. One of the bullets had done a little bit more than graze you, leaving a deep gouge in your arm. “So you touch it?” You ask him, only now starting to feel the pain of the wound. 

He stutters over a defense before rolling his eyes. “Come on,” he sighs and places a light hand over your back. He presses you forward, herding you towards his tent. “Let’s clean it up.” He sets you down on his cot and begins rummaging through the chest he keeps next to it with all his supplies. Glancing up at you, he asks “What were you apologisin’ for?” 

“Oh, um,” you feel a bit silly now. You almost don’t want to say it but that doesn’t feel fair to lie straight to his face. “I feel sick that you saw me shoot at those men.”

His brows furrow and he pauses his rummaging. He glances around like he’s waiting for you to finish but you just shrug. “Oh,” realization dawns on his face and he looks a little stunned. “That’s it?”

“Well,” you stutter and stumble over your words as he walks over to you with a cloth and some alcohol. “Yes,” you finally land on.

He tips the bottle over, soaking the cloth in the liquor. “Darlin’, I’ve seen death more times than I can count to. I don’t care about a little shoot-out. I only care about you bein’ alive.”

He presses the cloth to your wound and you jerk back, hissing in pain. He mutters small reassurances to you, soothing you like a bucking horse. “You mean that?” You ask through gritted teeth. 

He laughs a little, kneeling and smiling at you. “Kill as many men as you like, sweetheart, just don’t point that gun at me.” Despite the aching pain in your arm, you find yourself smiling back at him. 

The new spot for camp isn’t awful. The town nearby isn’t much to write home about. Two families have been feuding here since before the war. They haven’t seemed to fully accept this new society you live in. And you’re sure that their crops thrive on Braithwaite and Gray blood rather than water.

You weren’t allowed to go into town with Arthur and the others. None of the ladies were. Dutch had said that the people here wouldn’t react well to so many unmarried women. Especially not women like Karen. She hadn’t appreciated the dig, but she hadn’t argued with him. 

You found it difficult to follow along blindly to Dutch’s whims. Sometimes it feels like you just traded one master for another. Your father, then your husband, and now you can’t do anything without Arthur constantly running to Dutch to get his approval. As much as you’d like to pretend you have a newfound freedom, you know that Arthur will never leave the gang behind. Dutch has practically brainwashed him into a loyal soldier. So long as you love Arthur, you’re stuck under Dutch’s thumb- and he knows it. 

“I said go and get another slab. How hard is that?” Pearson’s voice carries through camp, his tone tight and irritated. Your brows furrow and you turn in your seat to see what he’s fussing about now. 

“It would be a lot easier if I wasn’t havin’ to fight with a goddamn fool the whole time!” Sadie picks up a slab of deer meat and hurls it at the man. He throws his hands up, just barely managing to catch it in time. 

You stifle a laugh, figuring you should have known what was causing him so much grief. Sadie’s been having to follow his every order ever since Dutch changed her over from Mrs. Grimshaw to Pearson. You know it’s driving her mad, same as you, to do nothing but cook and clean all day. 

Even when she was married she had gone out hunting and fishing with Jake. They’d always taken care of your land, they were never house servants. She only knows how to cook because she’d had a husband to take care of, not an entire camp. 

You place your book down on the table before you and get to your feet. You figure you should step in before this gets nasty. Again. You’re worried Sadie might actually stab the man. You can see them both considering it as you approach. Neither of them are happy with the arrangement. Pearson thought he was getting a quiet assistant and Sadie just plain hates him. 

“Mr. Pearson!” You call out before they can say anything else. You lift your hand in greeting and he grunts noncommittally. “If you wouldn’t mind, I need Sadie’s help with a task.”

Sadie’s lip curls up at him and he crosses his arms, leaning back like he has any power to hold over you. “Oh, yeah? What would that be?”

You glance away, eyes down like you’re flustered. Your hand hovers over your stomach and you grimace, “I’m afraid it may be more feminine in nature.” His face blanches and he turns back to the slab of meat before him. 

“Get.” He waves Sadie away and refuses to look at either of you. 

You grin at her, holding your arm out and nodding towards the trees around camp. She chuckles slightly, looping her arm through your own and following alongside you. With Dutch and most other men out of camp today, you can afford to explore a little further than you might normally be allowed. 

“Has he been giving you much grief?”

Sadie rolls her eyes with a scoff and sets you with a deadpan look. “What the hell do you think?” She doesn’t actually give you a chance to answer and continues with an angered tone. “He seems to be of the belief that women are of better use quiet and obedient.”

“Well,” you tilt your head in consideration and nod. “Most men think that. We haven’t yet reached a point in society where women hold much power, Sadie. Do you expect a group of outlaws to be fighting for our rights?”

“I don’t want none of them fightin’ for me. I just want to be able to take a ride, go huntin’,” she throws her hands up and sighs, “somethin’.”

You realize you do have a slight bit more freedom than she does. Arthur often takes you into towns with him or, at the very least, on some rides for space away from everyone. She’s been holed up with all these strange people since they first rescued you. You purse your lips and give her a sympathetic look. 

You lead her further towards the grove of trees and hope some new scenery will help her calm down. 

Arthur’s white button-down shirt lay across your lap. Needle in hand, you check it over to make sure you didn't miss any holes or tears. Satisfied with your efforts, you get to your feet and walk towards Arthur’s tent. 

You don’t sew or fix anything up for the others unless they’re willing to pay. You find yourself doing this naturally for Arthur, without telling him. You're not sure if it’s because your finishing school teacher had ingrained into you the good qualities of a wife, or it’s simply because you want to. 

Part of you will always resent the fact that you can’t recognize your own actions versus your training. You try to keep those thoughts at bay most days, but sometimes, when you do something like this, it’s a little more difficult. 

Orange light glares into your eyes and you lift a hand to block it. Peering through one eye, you watch as the sinking sun sets against the horizon. Orange, red, and pink swirl and dance around each other to create a scene so perfect it almost doesn’t feel real. 

It makes you think of Arthur, of how he would draw it. He’s incredibly gifted with art, even if he won’t admit it. Even with a piece of charcoal, he manages to capture the life of the animals he sees or the people around him. 

After working a few odd jobs in camp, writing a letter for someone or doing some tailoring, you have some meager savings. You’ve been considering buying Arthur a proper drawing kit. You’re sure it would be foolish to spend it all on him, but you’d think he’d like it. 

The people in camp only think he’s good for shooting and providing muscle. As much as they care about him, they don’t see the value in some of his finer skills. And you know it affects him. Anytime you catch a glimpse of one of his drawings he immediately starts tearing his work apart, always calling it trash and a waste of time. You wish that he could see the beauty of his creativity like you do. But a skill like that isn’t rewarded around here and you know he’ll never truly understand just how much more he’s capable of than what he’s been told. 

Your gaze moves from the setting sun to the table in his tent. His journal rests on the edge and you frown. He doesn’t normally leave it behind. Reaching forward, you snag it off the edge and tuck it under his pillow. There are a lot of nosy people in camp, you doubt he’d want anyone getting their hands on it. While you fuss with that, you notice the picture on his table. Or lack thereof. 

It’s been a while since you’ve paid attention to the interior of his tent. Most of the time you’re here, you’re focused on him. But you can’t help and snoop, just a little. The picture of his mother is still there, along with a folded-up one of the gang. But the picture he used to keep of his former lover is gone. 

Curious, you take the shirt and turn towards the chest at the end of his cot. You bend over slightly, undoing the buckles and propping the edge up. 

You lay the shirt flat, straightening out any wrinkles, and your hand accidentally slips toward the turned-over picture frames beside his clothes. You lift the first one and find another one of his mother. Pursing your lips, you debate if you should dig any further. Glancing over your shoulder, you don’t notice anyone watching you or coming close. You bend over a little more and rifle through another frame. 

There it is- the picture of the woman buried beneath the rest. You don’t blame him for keeping it. You know how much she meant to him. You’re just curious as to why he went so far as to bury it below the rest. 

Someone clears their throat behind you and you let out a squeak, slamming the lid of the chest shut. You whip around and find Arthur leaning against the post of his tent. “Arthur,” you're breathless as you clutch at your chest, not having even expected him back in camp yet. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

“No,” he lets out an amused huff, “I don’t imagine you did.” He nods towards his chest and you flush with guilt. “What’re you doin’ in there?”

You tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and shrug innocently. “Just putting away a shirt I fixed up for you.” He moves away from the post and takes a slow step towards you. 

“And that’s all?” He looks completely serious, as though he’s about to start interrogating you, but you can hear the slight tease lingering at the end of his words. 

“Yes,” you lie, “that’s all.”

“Alright,” he stops in front of you and chuckles a little. “I’ll pretend to believe that. How ‘bout next time you want somethin’, you just come to me?” You nod your head and he steps around you. He takes his hat off and places it on the table, running his hands through his hair. 

“Actually,” you grin at him as he turns around, “there is somethin- wait, what is that?” You demand, pointing to the deputy’s badge on his shirt. 

He glances down with a sigh and rolls his eyes. “Bill went and got us deputized. Don’t know how, but Dutch seems to think it’s best if we want to stay here.” You try not to sigh at the mention of Dutch. He’s been getting stricter ever since the incident in Valentine and Arthur’s obeying him like a leashed dog. It’s beyond frustrating. 

“I can’t believe they gave you all badges,” you can’t help but laugh. The sheriff has got to be touched in the head to have looked at those men and thought they were anything but outlaws. 

“Buncha fools,” Arthur grumbles. He sees the look on your face, the way you bite your lip to keep any more laughter from escaping, and sighs. “Quit laughin’ at me, woman. What was I supposed to do? Say no?” You shake your head mutely and he rolls his eyes. “What did you want?”

“Right,” you clear your throat and let out one last huff of laughter before straightening up. “I need you to do a favor for me. Sadie’s been itching to get away from camp, especially from that old bastard Pearson. Could you take her out for me, tomorrow, or sometime soon? I’m worried she’s going to drive a knife through his skull if we don’t deal with this.

Arthur doesn’t look convinced, eyes narrowed and head tilted in a way that makes you think he’s going to say no. You risk a step forward, taking his hand in your own and pulling him close. “Oh, please, Arthur. It would mean the world to me.”

His eyes meet yours, and you widen them, giving him your best pleading look. He holds out for a minute longer than you thought he would before letting out a rough sigh. “Alright, alright, fine. But she better not cause any damn trouble, she’s got a worse temper than Bill.”

You can’t promise she won’t, so you just lean up and press a kiss to his cheek in thanks. He rolls his eyes and takes your chin between his fingers. He tilts your face up towards his, narrowing his eyes at you, “Come on, give me a real kiss,” you smile slightly and wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet you halfway. You suppose there are worse ways to have to pay him back. 

Arthur and Sadie were both out on a supply run before you even woke up. By the time you’re properly dressed and cleaned, you can see the wagon cresting over the hill. Your eyes widen with alarm when you see Sadie with the reins, driving the horses even worse than you do. 

You know she’s driven a wagon before. You think she might just be trying to give Arthur a heart attack. You can hear them shouting at each other from where you stand and you snicker. You wonder if those two were separated at birth or something, they get along about as bad as most siblings you know. 

You go over to Arthur’s tent and rifle through his bullets until you find a few extra for the revolver in your holster. Eventually, you’ll have to start buying your own supplies. But he doesn’t seem to mind much. Either that or he hasn’t caught on yet.

You load the bandolier on your hip and walk out to meet them as they return. Sadie doesn’t quite park the wagon in time, nearly taking out Bill’s tent as she drives them back into camp. “Enough!” Arthur barks, ripping the reins out of her hands. “I am never lettin’ you drive again.”

“Didn’t know you were such a coward, Arthur,” she taunts, hopping out of the wagon. You find yourself grinning when you see the clothes she’s sporting. Pants, a new hat, and some fresh boots. You’re sure Dutch won’t appreciate her use of camp funds but you applaud her latest show of rebellion. 

You round the horses to greet Arthur as he gives Sadie a bewildered look. She hauls a sack of flour out of the back and tosses it at Pearson’s feet. “Have fun?” You ask airily as you greet him. 

He whirls around on you and points an accusing finger towards you. “I said no trouble.”

“She couldn’t have been that bad,” you admonish, swatting his hand away. 

He purses his lips in irritation and crosses his arms. “She nearly killed me drivin’ back. Women can’t drive!” You gape at him as he hops out of the wagon and begins storming towards his tent. “They can’t!” He shouts and you gasp, face twisted in a bewildered smile. 

“Arthur!” You admonish, chasing after him. He shakes his head, not looking at you. 

He scoffs and shakes his head, looking for all the world like a madman. “Think I don’t remember how you drove when we came down from the mountains?”

“You broke the wheel,” you throw back at him. With his shoulders nearly up to his ears, he continues his stubborn march towards his tent. “Oh, Arthur, come on.” You catch up with him and dart in front of him so he can’t get around you.  

“How about a ride to calm you down?” He looks to Sadie and then back at the wagon with a sickened look and you laugh. “On the horses,” you laugh and grab his arm, dragging him to Diablo and Lady. “Sadie ain’t the only one feeling cooped up,” you tell him. 

His low sigh sounds a little apologetic but you hadn’t meant anything against him. It was Dutch keeping you under lock and key. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. But we can’t risk too many of us bein’ seen.”

“Dutch can’t risk it, you mean,” you grab onto the saddle’s horn and swing up, glancing down at him. 

He frowns, mounting Diablo with more grace than you can manage. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You bat your lashes and shrug, leading Lady towards the edge of camp. “Nothing really, just that it seems to be Dutch forcing us all to lay low.” You take the lead through the trees, ducking underneath a few low-hanging branches. “No one else seems to be as worried, or even know what’s going on out here.”

Arthur slows down and you’re forced to match his gait if you want to hear what he says. You turn back in your saddle and give him a questioning look. He’s looking at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It’s distant like he’s gazing at someone closer to a stranger than a lover. 

“You’re doubtin’ Dutch?” His voice is low, tone giving nothing away to you. 

“Well,” Lady shifts restlessly underneath you, seemingly sensing the change in your mood. “Not doubting per se. I just don’t think things are as dangerous as he makes them out to be. It just seems to be-”

“Do I need to remind you how you got that scar on your arm?” Arthur snaps, pointing towards the slight bullet wound left behind by Cornwall’s men. You blanch as he nudges Diablo forward, quickly surpassing you. 

“No Arthur, I think I remember getting shot at pretty damn well.” You’re getting angry now too, you really hadn’t meant much by the comment. But he had to realize how out of proportion Dutch was making everything feel. The “threats” surrounding you, the grand plan of escape, it was all too magnificent. 

“Look, you can’t be questionin’ Dutch like that. If we stop trustin’ each other or start turnin’ on each other, it’s all gonna fall apart faster than you can blink.” He slows slightly so you can catch up with him but it doesn’t seem as natural as it normally does. 

“That’s not what I was trying to imply Arthur. I’ve been in camp for too long. The world outside seems so distant to me. It’s just hard to believe we’re in any real danger.” You try to downplay what you said. Pretend you hadn't been suggesting exactly what he’s accusing you of. Playing the ditzy little lady used to get you out of trouble in the past, but now, he sees right through you. 

“Well, we are,” he snaps, “and you’d do your best to remember that. Just because you can’t see it, don’t mean it’s not real.” There’s a sense of finality to his words that tells you the conversation’s over. Whatever hope you’d had of a peaceful ride is gone. 

It’s a difficult pill to swallow, knowing no matter how much you care for Arthur, he’ll always pick Dutch over you. And worse, he’ll pick Dutch over saving himself. He’ll never understand just how much he’s worth, or how much he means to everyone around him. He’s a martyr through and through. Always prepared to make a sacrifice, even when it’s not needed.  

You tighten your grip around Lady’s reigns, eyes cast down as you follow along silently beside him. He leads you onto the path towards town and you wonder if you should just head back. You could lie, say you’re feeling sick, and be done with him for now. 

You’re already upset by how the day’s turned, no point in prolonging either of your misery. “Arthur,” you call out. He hums, turning slightly, just barely facing you. “I’m going to go back to camp.” 

He pulls on Diablo’s reins, turning him around so he can properly face you. “I thought you wanted to get out?” He asks, sounding on edge and a little snappy. 

You shrug dismissively, not bothering with an excuse. “Changed my mind-”

“Told you it’d be worth a pretty penny,” your brows furrow as a strong Irish accent starts talking a little further up the path. It sounds startlingly familiar.

“Those wagons are always worth the trouble,” Arthur’s quick to ride up beside you. He doesn’t hesitate as he takes Lady’s reins out of your hand and leads you both off the path. You’re silent as you follow him off the safety of the trail. He tucks you both behind some trees. You have just enough coverage that they can’t see you but you can still see them. 

There’s a sharp pain slicing up and down your back the closer the Irishmen get. You hiss through your teeth, shifting uncomfortably as they continue to talk. Arthur keeps his head low, hat tilted down and you follow suit. They pass by without much fuss and Arthur picks his head back up to watch them go. 

“O’Driscolls,” he curses and the painful familiarity suddenly makes sense. “We need to tell Dutch,” he says, already making his way back to camp. You follow him without much argument, as eager to get back as he is. 

Your heart sinks to your stomach, toiling in hurt the whole way. You know Dutch has instilled a paternal familiarity into Arthur but it hurts knowing the man you chose will always choose someone else. 

Pearson’s ambling back into camp just as you and Arthur arrive. You’re tempted to just go back to your tent but you follow Arthur, knowing he’ll probably need someone else to back up what he saw. “Dutch!” He calls out, interrupting whatever scheming conversation he’d been having with Micah. 

Dutch walks towards you both, Micah following slightly behind, coughing into the crook of his elbow. You grimace at the wet, choking noise. He’s been looking worse and worse everyday. The circles under his eyes are so dark he looks like he’s been knocked across the face.

“Something the matter, Arthur?” Dutch asks, eyes briefly darting to you before looking back at Arthur. 

“Saw somethin’ out on the road.” You cross your arms, mind drifting as you wait to be called into the conversation. You’re roughly jarred out of your reverie as a strong, clammy hand lands on your shoulder so suddenly you’re nearly dragged to the ground. 

The smell of sweat and moonshine sours your nose and nearly makes you gag as Pearson leans against you. “Gost ‘ome news,” he slurs, eyes barely open as he gestures vaguely towards Dutch. 

You struggle under his weight, doing your damndest not to fall into the mud. Arthur frowns and knocks Pearson’s arm off your shoulder. “Get off ‘er, you damn fool,” he grabs him by the bicep, roughly jerking him straight and relying on his strength to keep them both upright. 

“Now, Mr. Pearson, Mr. Morgan, I believe you both have news to share. Seeing as Mr. Pearson is close to toppling over into the mud, he can go first.” Arthur’s lips purse in irritation but he says nothing, only shakes Pearson to wake him back up. 

“Met ‘ome fine mens in the bar. O’durshels, wanna purl.” You narrow your eyes at him and your face twists with confusion. You’re not the only one, the other men around you already look tired of having to deal with Pearson’s inebriated state. 

Sadly, years spent married to a drunkard means you’ve learned the language of liquor quite well. “He met some O’Driscolls in a bar, they want to parley,” you translate, looking to Dutch. 

His brows set with something you don’t recognize and Arthur scoffs. “It’s a damn trap.”

“‘Course it is,” Micah snaps. “Don’t mean we can’t use it to our advantage.”

Arthur drops Pearson’s arm and the man goes tumbling face-first into the mud. He takes a menacing step towards Micah who only grins up at him. “We’d be a bunch of fools to go anywhere near this.”

“Arthur,” Dutch barks his name out like an order and Arthur pauses, still leering over Micah. “I believe Mr. Bell might be right.”

“Oh,” you glare at him, smiling with disbelief. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? Those men are bastards,” you spit the word out with venom you didn’t know you possessed and step towards Dutch. Micah darts forward, protecting him like you’d actually try something. 

“Arthur,” Dutch warns lowly, intense stare set on you. Your skin crawls with the weight of his gaze. You feel like he’s pulling you to pieces, digging around to see which parts of you are weakest. He doesn’t have to say anything more, Arthur walks forward. He’s gentle as he grabs your arm, but he leaves no room for argument as he leads you away from Dutch. 

“Arthur,” you admonish. “You can’t be thinking about this.”

“I’m not,” he mutters, glancing over his shoulder at Dutch. “But I ain’t got a choice.”

You laugh in disbelief and shake your head at him as he parks you beside his tent. “Of course you do. You’ve got the same choice as any of us. Just say no.” You’re praying that he sees sense, that he doesn’t go along with what is a clear trap. 

He only shakes his head and turns back towards Dutch. You should have known. Even if he knows there’s danger, he’ll ride in headfirst so long as someone else doesn’t get hurt. You feel something like disgust twisting you up and irritating the anger already present. 

You look towards Dutch and he’s already got his eyes on you. He doesn’t wear it plainly, but you see the satisfaction on his face as Arthur comes to stand beside him and leaves you. As if you were ever a threat to his authority. 

You turn away from them all, unwilling to watch them ride off as you storm back toward your tent. If they want to go be a bunch of fools, so be it. It’s not your business what mistakes men make with their freedom. 

It’s Sadie that wakes you, her hand on your shoulder, shoving you insistently. Your eyes are slow to flutter open, your mind racing to remember where you are and who you’re with. “What?” You slur, one eye open as you try to orient yourself. 

“They’re back,” she hisses, tossing away the blanket and getting to her feet. You sit up slowly, hands landing in your lap as you let your head sink between your shoulders. You listen to Sadie’s rushed footsteps as she runs away from the tent. 

You’re moving slowly as you rub your eyes, trying to force yourself awake. Whose back?

You try to remember the events of the day and then the realization hits you like ice. Your heart palpitates as you scramble to get up. You chase after Sadie, feet bare in the mud as you run to the entrance of the camp. You’re not looking to give Arthur a happy welcome back, you just want to make sure he’s okay. 

You see The Count’s white head parting through the trees first, then Baylock. You come up behind Sadie, peering around her to see if you can spot Diablo through the trees. You know it’ll be hard with his striking black coat, but you figure you’ll manage some hint of him, even through the dark. 

Dutch and Micah are slow as they amble up to you. Your brows furrow and there’s an intuitive gnawing feeling in the back of your mind. John comes out of his tent at the sound of hooves, moving to stand beside you. A few others join the welcoming party but you’re not paying any attention to them.

You move away from Sadie and take a step closer to the men now broaching the perimeter of camp. Your hand balls into the fabric of your night dress and you suck in a sharp breath when you realize they’re riding back alone. 

Red-hot anger hits you like a hammer knocking a blade into place. You run towards Dutch, not even waiting for him to be fully off his saddle before you start hollering at him. “Where is he? Did he have to stay behind? What’s going on?” 

Dutch holds his hands up, lips curled back in irritation as he skirts around you. “There were some complications,” Micah snipes as he jumps down from his horse. His lips are twisted up, humor coating his rotten voice. 

Your chest heaves with panic, heart tapping an odd pitter-patter as you try and process what the hell that means. 

“Complications!” You shout, uncaring for the way the others are staring at you. “Where the hell is Arthur?” Dutch tries to walk away from you, giving you a bewildered sort of look. He’s looking at you like you’re some sort of ranting madman wandering in from the woods. You may be ankle-deep in mud, wearing nothing but a nightgown, but you are not crazy. And you will not let him treat you like you are. 

You shoot forward and shove at the back of his shoulder. You catch him off guard and he stumbles slightly. You reach for him but Micah rushes forward, snatching up your left wrist before you can try again. You don’t see anything but red as you whip around and snap your hand as hard as you can against his cheek. 

You hear the sound your skin makes against his, see the bright burning mark on his face, but you feel no sting. You rip your wrist out of his hold and turn back towards Dutch. “You wicked little-”

“You left him, didn’t you?” You interrupt Micah’s low-brow insult and wait for Dutch to answer. He’s got a surprised look on his face as he takes you in. As if he hadn’t expected you to do anything but sit back and obey. 

His silence is the only answer you need as he tries to turn away from you again. “After everything he’s done for you! You just leave him!” You sound more heartbroken than he looks and it’s devastating. He left him to the mercies of O’Driscolls and he doesn’t seem to care at all. 

“We didn’t leave him!” Dutch shouts, voice cracking slightly. He snatches up your arm, dragging you away from Micah and trying to isolate you from the others. He’s pulling you to his tent, trying to keep you silent so you don’t cause a big scene in front of the rest of camp. You won’t let him do this, you refuse to let him keep his perfect mask of the unfaltering leader. 

You dig your feet into the ground and feel the cold wet rush of mud filtering around your legs as he tries to drag you forward. “This is childish,” he snaps, glaring at you and letting your arm go. You know there’ll be a nasty purple bruise where he’d held you but you could care less right now. 

“You didn’t leave him? What the hell do you call this?” You gesture around wildly, not fully comprehending that this isn’t just one bad dream. “You don’t understand the cruelty of those men. What you just left him to-”

“Excuse me?” Dutch’s voice is low now, no longer is he shouting. Instead, he stalks towards you in two easy steps. 

“Easy,” John warns, coming up behind you both. 

Neither of you pay him any mind. You take a step closer, nearly nose to nose with Dutch, refusing to be intimidated by him. “This isn’t your fight, Mrs. Rowe. These aren’t your people, how dare you-”

“Arthur is my people,” you interrupt, voice a deadly whisper. “How dare you leave him. Fearsome Dutch Van der Linde,” you taunt and his nostrils flair at your impudence, “can’t even keep his people safe. Tell me, if you’re such a great leader, a man who’s always got a plan- what is it? What is your great plan? How are you going to get my Arthur back from this?”

Dutch’s face blanches and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen anything genuine appear. He almost looks concerned. And not for himself or his image, but for Arthur. It makes you hesitate for a moment, startling a step back from him with a furrow between your brows. 

“I’ve got a plan,” he whispers, eyes wide like he’s trying to convince himself. He turns and looks at the rest of the gang, most of them having woken up while you’d been shouting. “I have got a plan!” He yells, turning back towards his tent and storming off. 

Micah follows behind him, shoulder slamming into yours as he passes. You grunt, tripping forward and glaring at his back. You wouldn’t mind putting a bullet between that bastard’s eyes. 

Your mind races with everything the O’Drsicolls had put you and Sadie through. Your skin crawls with the way their hands and weapons had felt against you. You swallow the bile in your throat and turn towards the horses. 

John is right behind you, having been lurking at the edges of your and Dutch’s fight. “Where’re you goin’?” He asks with a tired sigh. 

“Where do you think?” You snap, reaching for Lady. 

Charles calls out your name and you turn to see him standing behind John with Hosea. Out of everyone in camp, you’d think these would be the three men joining you, not trying to stop you like they clearly are. 

You scoff in disbelief, a sardonic smile on your face. “That's it?” you demand, a disgusted glare directed at each of them. “You’re just going to abandon him too?”

“We’re not abandoning him,” Hosea objects, taking a step closer. You flinch away from him and he frowns. “You don’t know these men-”

“The hell I don’t! I’ve got the scars from what they did to me. I barely survived it.” Hosea winces away from your words. 

“Dutch has a plan,” he tells you, but it doesn’t even sound like he believes himself. “We just need to wait.”

“What’re you going to do?” Charles adds, and it feels remarkably like they’re circling you, herding you away from your horse. “You don’t even have a gun and you’re just going to ride into an O’Driscoll camp.”

“I will,” you tell him, all the sincerity in the world backing you up. 

“And you’ll get yourself killed,” John snaps. “I want them dead just as bad, but you are only going to get yourself hurt or caught. We only need some time, we’re not abandoning him. But we can’t just go in guns blazin’.”

“When has that ever stopped any of you?” You snap. You feel all your anger, all your determination, slip right out through the bottom of your bare feet. You know from their faces there’s going to be no arguing with them. They’re just as bad as Arthur, just as blind. 

They truly believe that Dutch has any clue what he’s doing. How could you possibly be the only one to see the truth of what he is? He’s a conman, decorated as a friend, father, brother, leader. He takes whatever form he wants and he knows how to use it against those around him. There’s no plan, there’s no grand escape to some tropical paradise. 

“You’re not leaving tonight,” Charles tells you and you wish you had the energy to cry. You want to weep for Arthur. Here stood the people he would sacrifice himself for, and they aren’t going to kill a few O’Driscolls to save him. 

You let them lead you back to your tent and look toward the horizon. You’re not going to be allowed to leave this camp. And even if there was a plan to rescue Arthur, you’d never be told of it. All you can do is wait. 

You stay up all night, sitting by the fire and forcing yourself to tolerate the feeling of Charles watching you the whole time. You don’t know what it is that makes you look away from the flames and towards the trees, but something pulls at you. 

As the sun crests the horizon, you place your cup of coffee down and turn. Over your shoulder, barely visible, a horse struggles along the path. You squint, head tilting this way and that so you might be able to better make out what it is. You get to your feet and hear Charles follow you. 

“Oh, god,” you gasp, making a run for the horse just as the rising sun illuminates it. Arthur is slumped over Diablo’s head, blood soaked through his shirt. You don’t make it to him before he slips off the saddle and lands in the mud. Diablo stands over him, nosing at his neck and cheek. 

Charles races behind you as you slide into the mud, hands roving over Arthur’s chest until you find the burned-over wound on his shoulder. You press your fingers to his throat, holding your breath while you pray to feel the beat of life within him still. 

“Oh, thank god,” you whisper when you feel the faintest thud against the tip of your fingers. Charles kneels beside you and you both throw an arm over your shoulders, lifting Arthur to his feet. “Susan!” You scream the old lady's name until you see her stumble out of her tent. 

A few of the other’s still awake all stand, Dutch included. “He needs help!” You shout, Charles helping you drag him towards her. 

“Bring him over here!” She shouts, clearing off Arthur’s cot and motioning for you to lay him down. You stumble under Arthur’s weight, ankle rolling the wrong way as you struggle to keep up his limp body. Charles helps as much as he can but you can barely stay standing. Dutch runs over to you, you share a brief look before he slips Arthur’s arm off your shoulder and carries him the rest of the way to Mrs. Grimshaw. 

You turn towards the tent of women and by now they’re all up, watching everything with wide horrified eyes. “Tilly, help me,” you demand, rushing towards the water boiling for Pearson’s stew. She snaps into action, racing behind you and passing you a cloth to lift the scalding pot off the fire. You both carry it over to Mrs. Grimshaw and she barely spares you a glance, too focused on Arthur. 

You can’t look at him for too long, can’t bear to face the way his eyes stare up at nothing. He looks too much like the corpses you’ve seen. But you know you felt life inside him. You couldn’t have made something like that up. 

Mrs. Grimshaw slices through his shirt and hisses at what she sees. You move past Dutch and peer over her shoulder with Tilly. “Oh, you fool,” she mutters. You shake your head when you see what he’s done to his shoulder. You know he did the best with what he had, but gunpowder is a risky move to close up a bullet hole. 

If you’re not careful with how you treat his wound, it’s more than likely to get infected. Besides the gunshot, judging from the bruises on his body, you can tell he was beaten to within an inch of his life. He’d barely been there a day and they’d nearly killed him. If what they’d done to you wasn’t reason enough to want the O’Drsicolls dead, this was. 

“Susan,” Dutch whispers and he sounds so disappointed, “sit by him. Take care of him. Keep him alive.” You refuse to look at Dutch, dipping a cloth into the purified water and wringing it out. You pass it to Susan who only nods her head. 

Tilly draws the tent flaps closed, pushing Dutch the rest of the way out. Susan presses the cloth gently to the area around Arthur’s wound and his shoulder jerks slightly. “He’s burned himself up,” Tilly mutters, rooting through his supply trunk and ripping up some of his clean shirts for extra cloth. 

“Closed up the wound,” Susan mutters, “but we’ll need to watch for infection.” Her hand drifts down his chest, pressing down on one of the purple and yellow splotches along his ribs. His eyes shoot open for a moment, a pained groan coming from his cracked lips. 

“Broken rib?” You ask, rooting around in his table for some of the ointment Hosea had made for him. She hums an affirmative and you hear Tilly rip up some more cloth for binding. 

“It’s gonna be a long night, you best listen to every damn thing I tell you,” Susan snaps, not taking her eyes off of Arthur. You nod your head silently, pulling out the tin of salve and presenting it to her. Your eyes drift towards Arthur and you let out a shuddering breath, not willing to look at his broken form for more than a few moments. 

Susan helped the most the first night Arthur was back. It was because of her that he made it. Tilly and you assisted her the best you could. But she had the knowledge only a doctor should as she staved the infection away from his wound. 

She wasn’t capable of a miracle, but this seemed damn close. Still, even with all the work you’d put in, someone had to stay by his side at night, make sure he didn’t slip away quietly. You volunteered yourself, opting to let them watch him during the day while you slept. 

His recovery was a slow one. You have to make sure his ribs are wrapped tight enough to encourage them to heal again. You need to ensure he doesn’t flip around in his sleep and do any more damage to himself. More importantly, you have to do everything you can to keep his fever down. 

Despite the heat of the day, it seems worse at night. Sweat soaks through his clothes and blankets, he’s constantly twitching with shivers. You try and make sure the cloth along his brow stays cool, but he seems to heat them up like a fire. 

There’s no puckering green skin around his wound, none of you can figure out where the infection is stemming from. You don’t have the medicine he needs to fight it, only sheer will and prayer. 

You lean forward in your chair, pressing the back of your chilled fingers to his cheek. Same as the night before, it’s hot to the touch. You’re surprised your skin doesn’t sizzle as it touches his. His breaths come in short pants as you slip the cloth off his head and dip it into the bucket of water beside you. You wring it out and place it gently along his brow again. 

Standing, you perch yourself on the edge of his cot and peel back the bandages on his shoulder. It sticks slightly to the skin, yellowed and bloody as the skin works to heal itself. He’d done the best he could with the gunpowder, but all it had done was stop you from getting below the surface and healing what needed it. 

Your eyes are fighting to stay open after being awake all night. You know the sun will rise soon, that you’ll have an opportunity for rest. But you haven’t been able to sleep well, not since he was brought back. You nearly drift off and then you think of him dying while you’re dozing away. 

He might have made it through the first night, but there are no promises with things like this. Your hand slips into his and you let out a heavy sigh. You take in his sallow face, the gauntness of his cheeks, the circles under his eyes. His beard has grown longer than you’ve ever seen it, his hair nearly reaches his shoulders. You don’t recognize this beaten man below you. This isn’t the Arthur you know. 

You squeeze his rough hand in yours, “You better not stop fighting, you stubborn bastard.”  You feel a familiar burn in the back of your throat and look away from him, choking down your tears. You can’t cry over him again. You’ve done it so often your eyes have run dry. 

Just as you’re about to get up to leave, his hand twitches ever so slightly in yours. Your brows furrow and you glance down at his hold on you. It was nearly imperceptible, a barely there movement. You watch his arm carefully, seeing if anything else happens. When he doesn’t move again you dismiss it as your mind playing tricks on you. 

Again, almost as if he knows you’re going to leave him, his hand twitches. This time, you can’t dismiss it as a reflex or simply something your addled brain has conjured up. The movement is deliberate, purposeful, as if he’s trying to hold on to you in every way he can. His fingers squeeze your palm weakly, and a sharp gasp escapes your lips.

“Arthur?” you breathe, voice trembling as your heart skips a beat. You turn back to his face, ragged and pale, the shadow of the man he once was. But there’s something in the faint wrinkle of his brow and the uneven parting of his lips. It’s the most life you’ve seen in him in days.

You’re practically shaking as you move further up the cot. You stick yourself as close to his side as you can. “Oh, Arthur?” you plead, leaning closer, searching desperately for any sign that he’s still fighting. A low mutter slips from his cracked lips, the sound so faint it’s almost lost in the silence. You freeze, straining to hear, your breath caught in your throat.

You’re so close you can feel the shallow rise and fall of his chest against yours. His lips move again, his ribs quaking with effort. It’s a whisper, barely audible, but you hear a cracked version of your name slip through his lips. 

This is the most you’ve gotten from him in days. There had been moments where, as hard as it was to accept, you’d begun to realize he could be dying. His lips move again and if you weren’t watching him so intently, you might have missed it.

Your heart shatters and mends all at once. “Arthur,” you choke, nearly crying with relief. Your body slumps over his with the relief that he’s not been lost to you yet. You clutch your hand in his as though sheer will can keep him with you. For a moment, the unbearable weight of your fear is lifted.

Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting, as you press your forehead against his. “You’re still here,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “Just keep fighting for me.”

He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t have the strength, but his fingers twitch again, his grip just a little firmer. It’s enough for you. You hold on to him like he’s your lifeline, and in a way, he is. You can’t let him go, not now. “I’m here, Arthur,” you promise, voice shaking but just steady enough for him to understand you. “I’m not going anywhere. Just, don’t leave me. Please.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a flicker of hope in the darkness. It’s fragile, so fragile, but it’s there.

It doesn’t take long for Arthur to start coming back around. Most nights, he’s still groggy and spends more time asleep than awake, but the fever has broken, and that’s enough for you.

You no longer go to sleep every night worrying he won’t be there in the morning. Now, when you check on his tent, you find him waiting for you, even if it’s with little more than a tired glance and a hoarse word or two. Tonight is one of those nights. He doesn’t have much energy for anything beyond picking at some stew and lying down, but you don’t mind.

You stay by his side, fussing over him as you fluff the pillows behind his head. He’d teased you the other day, comparing your fretting to Mrs. Grimshaw. You’d laughed, too relieved he felt well enough to joke to take offense. The memory makes you smile as you smooth the blankets over him.

“Quit,” he mutters weakly, swatting at your hands.

“Oh, hush,” you retort, tone light as you sit back down in the chair by his cot.

His hand catches your wrist before you can settle. When you glance down, you find him peeking up at you through one half-lidded eye, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Come on,” he mumbles, tugging gently.

“Arthur, I’m fine right here,” you reply, hesitating. His cot isn’t exactly spacious, and you’re worried about jostling him or hurting his still-healing ribs.

He doesn’t answer, just tugs again with what little strength he has.

“Oh, alright.” You laugh slightly and shake your head. “You’re so stubborn,” you grumble, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. Carefully, you climb onto the cot, curling into the space he makes for you on his good side. His head tucks into the crook of your neck, his arm settling around your waist like it belongs there.

You comb your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, thinking that maybe you’ll cut it for him when he’s stronger. His breathing slows against you, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He’s nearly asleep when he rasps out a question, voice muffled against your shoulder.

“Why didn’t they come?” He rasps against your shoulder, nearly asleep as he asks.

Your hands still in his hair, and the quiet around you feels suddenly heavy. His arm tightens around your waist, as though he senses your hesitation. You close your eyes and draw in a shaky breath.

How are you supposed to answer that?

You could tell him the same tired promises Dutch fed you, that there was a plan, that he was never really abandoned. But you’ve been here, tending to him alone for days. You’ve watched Dutch only appear when Arthur’s too far gone to notice, his visits perfunctory and brief. And you know, deep down, what Arthur would never admit, if he keeps believing Dutch’s lies, it’ll kill him.

You swallow hard and take his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Arthur,” you whisper, voice trembling but firm enough to hold his attention. “You’ve given Dutch everything, and he left you there. He left you to die.”

You hear him exhale, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. His grip on your hand loosens just slightly, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” you continue, leaning closer so your words sink in. “I just- I need you to know the truth. He’s not the man you think he is. He never was. Please, Arthur, when you’re strong enough, tell me we’ll get away. We’ll leave this all behind before it’s too late.”

You fall silent, letting your words settle in the quiet. He doesn’t respond, his breaths deepening as sleep overtakes him again.

You tighten your hold on his hand and rest your forehead against his temple. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, your voice breaking. “You deserve better.”

You doubt he’ll remember this when he wakes, and maybe that’s best. But you had to say something, you had to try. It feels wrong, though, to try and twist Arthur’s loyalty. You’ve barely had a chance to know either of them the way they know each other. 

Still, you can’t shake what you’ve seen. Dutch’s words, his cleverly painted lies, they turn into nooses, and he’s got a rope around everyone in camp. You know his kind, once he sinks his claws into someone, there’s no letting go. 

You glance down at Arthur’s face, softened and unguarded in sleep, and your chest tightens. He deserves to be free of Dutch. At the very least, he deserves to see the truth and to live for himself instead of chasing someone else’s dreams. 

Doubt still creeps alongside you. Did you have a place to say anything at all? 

You brush a hand through Arthur’s hair one more time, listening to his breaths as they even out. Curling closer around him, you drift to sleep with your heart heavy, praying he sees the truth when he wakes. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Hell Hath No Fury Taglist: @buckysblondie @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @committingcrimes-2047

@m1stea @pokiona

[majinael]

Walking away PT2 (final)

★PT1 here

★Michael Kaiser x Female Reader (Angst, Smut)

★1,9k words

The room buzzed with laughter and music, champagne glasses clinking under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. You stood near the bar, nursing your drink as your eyes swept over the crowd of glittering athletes and dignitaries. You weren’t here for the festivities; this was strictly professional, a networking opportunity to further your already flourishing career.

But then you saw him again. Of course, you had considered this possibility, but you still hadn’t expected him to show up at an event so far from Munich.

But here he was, Michael Kaiser.

The name alone was enough to make your stomach churn. He was the center of attention, as always, surrounded by admirers basking in the light of his golden-haired, sharp-tongued brilliance. He looked sharper than you remembered—older, more refined—but that same cocky smirk danced on his lips as if he owned the room. And maybe he did.

You froze when his eyes met yours. A bittersweet feeling washing over you.

There was no mistaking the flicker of recognition, followed by the telltale gleam of amusement. He excused himself from his circle and began striding toward you. You turned away, pretending to be engrossed in your drink, but it was too late.

“Fancy seeing you here,” his voice drawled, smooth as silk.

You glanced up, your expression cold. “Hah, Michael.”

He tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Still as charming as when you left, I see.”

“What do you want?” you asked bluntly with a sigh, unwilling to play his games.

His grin didn’t falter, but his eyes sharpened. “Just catching up with... an old friend. You look good.”

You bristled at the compliment, hating how his gaze felt like a touch, sliding over you with calculated ease. "I'm not one for small talk, you should know this, and we both know you showing up here again isn’t a coincidence.”

It was true—you had first met him at this exact event a few years ago, when he told you how Noel Noa had practically dragged him there.

“Always so direct.” He chuckled, leaning against the bar. “Alright, fine. I saw you and thought I’d say hello. Is that a crime?”

“Just unnecessary.”

His smirk wavered, just for a second. “Unnecessary? After everything?”

You scoffed, almost choking on your champagne, setting your glass down with a sharp clink. “Oh but you don’t get to bring up the past, Michael. Not here, not ever.”

He straightened, the playful light in his eyes dimming. “You’re still mad.”

“Mad?” You laughed bitterly. “That’s rich coming from you. You’re the one who never tried, who never changed and let me walk away like none of it mattered.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might apologize. Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice low and dangerous. “It mattered. Don’t ever think it didn’t.”

The heat of his words sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to let him see it. “You surely have a funny way of showing it.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race. He was not joking at all. The air between you grew thick, charged with the weight of everything left unsaid.

“Let’s not do this,” you said, your voice trembling despite yourself.

“Too late,” he muttered, grabbing your hand brutally.

The cool night air hit you as he pulled you onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him. The sound of the gala faded into the background, leaving only the silence and the pounding of your heart.

“Michael, let me go—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his grip firm but not exactly painful. “Just stop.”

You glared at him, but the fire in your eyes only seemed to fuel him. “What do you want from me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I don’t know. I just— that night I wanted to text you, apologize and—damn it, I missed you.”

You laughed harshly. “Missed me? Coming from the guy who prioritized his ego over everything else, over the only person that could ever love him so deeply even after everything he had done.”

“I was blind to see,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I know that. But you…” He stepped closer, his hand brushing against your cheek. “I thought you would come back, like you always did.”

“Come back?” Your voice cracked. “Michael, you… you fucking broke me. Even after so many chances, so many times I told you what was wrong, I stayed, because I was so, so stupidly in love with you. But you crossed my breaking point long ago. I'm not your fucking puppy to keep coming back and don’t expect to walk back into my life and think I’ll just forget.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m asking you to let me try again, prove you I've changed.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours.

Your back hit the wall with a dull thud, the soft glow of the city lights casting flickering shadows over Michael’s sharp features. His lips crashed into yours, hungry and unrelenting, like he was trying to devour every ounce of resistance you had left.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you muttered, but the way your hands twisted in his shirt betrayed you.

Michael laughed low in his throat, a sound so infuriatingly smug it made your stomach tighten. “Keep lying to yourself, Liebe,” he rasped against your lips, his voice thick with amusement and desire. “But your body says otherwise.”

Before you could retaliate, his hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. His arousal was evident, pressed hard against you, and the heat pooling in your core made it impossible to ignore the truth—you wanted him just as badly.

“Shut up,” you hissed, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking him back into a searing kiss.

He grabbed your thighs, and as you wrapped your legs instinctively around his waist, he carried you to a random room. As soon as he locked the door, he set you down on your feet and his hands found the zipper of your dress, tugging it down with the kind of impatient confidence only Michael Kaiser could pull off. The fabric slipped off your shoulders and pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your lace lingerie.

“God... you planned this, didn't you,” he murmured, his hands tracing the curves of your body. His eyes darkened as he took you in, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

“Are you done staring?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm despite the heat building between you.

He smirked, one hand sliding around to cup your ass and pull you closer. “Not even close.”

In one swift motion, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist again. The sensation of his hardness pressing against your center made you gasp, and he took advantage of the sound, his mouth moving to your neck.

“I dreamt about this ever since I saw you in the hall, you're so fucking pretty I just wanted to take you then and there, show everyone that you belong to me.” he muttered, his teeth grazing your skin.

“Still... so f-full of yourself, I see,” you shot back, though your voice was breathless.

His response was a sharp bite that sent a jolt straight to your core. “You love it,” he growled.

You didn’t deny it, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. When you finally pushed it off his shoulders, you let your hands roam over the hard planes of his chest and let your fingers trace the ink of his tattoo, the muscles taut under your touch.

"Still showing off,” you muttered, your nails dragging down his torso just enough to make him hiss.

“And you still like what you see,” he shot back, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk as he carried you to the bed.

He dropped you onto the mattress, standing over you for a moment as if savoring the sight. Then he was on you, his mouth everywhere at once—your neck, your collarbone, the tops of your breasts leaving purple blossoms in his path. His hands were relentless, pulling your bra down to expose you fully.

The groan he let out when his mouth found your nipple sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “Missed this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice almost tender before it hardened again. “Missed how you feel under me.”

“Then stop talking and do something about it,” you challenged, arching into his touch.

His smirk returned, wicked and unrelenting. “As you wish.”

His fingers slipped between your thighs, pressing against the thin fabric of your panties. You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a moan, but he wasn’t having it.

“Let me hear you,” he commanded, his voice low and rough as he pushed the fabric aside and slid his fingers through your slick folds. “You’re already so fucking wet for me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, though your voice cracked as he circled your clit with deliberate pressure.

“Flattery?” He laughed, slipping a finger inside you without warning. The stretch was perfect, the familiar rhythm making you gasp. “No, that’s just the truth.”

His thumb pressed against your clit as he added a second finger, pumping into you with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. The heat coiling in your belly grew unbearable, and you hated how easily he unraveled you.

“You’re still so mine,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

That was enough to snap you out of your haze. “I’m not—”

But he cut you off, pulling his fingers away and sitting back on his heels. You glared at him, frustrated and aching, but he just grinned, licking his fingers with deliberate slowness.

“Taste just as good as I remember,” he said, his voice dark and teasing.

“Stop being a cocky ass and—”

Before you could finish, he unbuckled his belt, the clink of metal sending a thrill through you. He leaned down, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, his hands working quickly to free himself.

When he finally slid into you, the stretch was exquisite, filling you in a way that made your breath catch. He stilled for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he let out a shaky breath.

“Still perfect and tight for me,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent before he started moving.

The pace was relentless, his hips snapping against yours with a force that left you breathless. Every thrust was punctuated by his low groans and the filthy words he whispered in your ear. "Fucking slut."

“Say my name,” he demanded, his teeth grazing your jaw.

“Michael,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you teetered on the edge.

“Who do you belong to?” he growled, his pace quickening.

“Michael K-kaiser..”

Your release hit you like a tidal wave, your body arching into his as he followed close behind, his groan of pleasure sending shivers down your spine.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room your ragged breathing. Then he rolled onto his side, pulling you against him.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whispered again, more to yourself than to him.

But Michael just smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Keep telling yourself that, Liebe.”

The silence afterward was almost deafening.

You lay tangled together, your breathing ragged as you stared at the ceiling. Kaiser was the first to speak, his voice soft. “This isn’t over.”

You turned to look at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. But you couldn’t let yourself fall again—not yet.

“We’ll see,” you said quietly, slipping out of bed before he could stop you.

As you left the room, his words echoed in your mind.

“This isn’t over.”

But he had your number, and you never blocked him.

[jazzsonly]

౨ৎ blurb. ౨ৎ

ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. sam carpenter, scream.

warning(s): fem!reader, g!p!reader, cheating, smut, public sex, sex in a movie theater, licking cum (?,) handjob, p in v, no protection, size kink (if you squint really, really hard,) dirty talk (barely,) not proof read, that’s it i think (?)

summary: in which, you comfort your girlfriend’s sister a little too well.

***inspired by the gif lol

you had known the carpenter sisters your whole life. growing up in the same town, let alone living in the same neighborhood, you just kind of blended together with all the other kids that played together in your community.

you and sam were the same age, so you graduated high school together—you two always used to walk home together, you both shared a total of three classes (math, science, and gym) so, that added to the factor list of how you guys became close.

you were in college now and things just ironically fell into place as sam ended up attending the same college as you, along with tara, and their little group of friends (who you were familiar with same babysitting.)

it made you happy that after all this time, you and sam were still in contact. you admired sam, she was strong, a hard-ass, but strong. knowledgeable for sure. to you she was the perfect leader, the perfect final girl if she were a movie character.

somewhere along the line, you thought maybe you and sam would just end up together. she were sweet on you, you guys had so much in common, knowing each other for so long, and you’d just always been the person she ran to.

but that’s on what happened—that’s not how things fell into place at all, and you weren’t mad about it, neither was sam but it were just odd it didn’t work out that.

odd that instead of her, you ended up with her little sister tara.

your relationship in another thing that kind of fell into place, unironically though.

you and tara had been up late watching horror movie for horror to celebrate the beginning of october, sam were in her room working on an unfinished essay—and that’s when tara just went for it, she kissed you.

and you kissed her back.

you weren’t sure why you kissed her back but you did. and hen you did tara just confessed that she had been in love with you for as long as you’d been friends with sam—the whole sister’s hot best friend bit.

it wasn’t so strange to think, i mean—you had picked tara up from school multiple times when sam couldn’t, you guys would hang out alone while sam was at work—you’d known the girl as along and you’d known sam, and obviously the girl was no stranger to beauty, and you had as much in common as you did with sam.

you had a why not moment about tara.

a ‘why not give my best friend’s little sister a chance?’ was the start of your now seven month relationship.

and don’t get your wrong, tara was still amazing as ever, she fitted well with you—but the only thing that seemed passionate about your relationship was the sex. all tara wanted to do was go to parties and make out with you, and when we wasn’t doing that she were too busy with homework to even bat an eye with you—

she had no time to watch movies with you, to go to the cafe with you, to walk the city with you—but sam did.

you knew it were bad but somewhere in your mind you found yourself visualizing yourself with sam at times. when she would be sitting across from you cafe rambling about whatever schoolwork she had up her, you would just go into a daydream.

what if sam had kissed that night instead? what does it feel like to kiss sam? is she a good kisser? if her lips are soft, if they fit yours…

or when you were on walks, running errands in the city, you thought would it would be like to cuddle sam. how would her body fit in your arms? how her body would feel against yours? would she do that little thing that tara did when she pushes her ass against—

no. none of that.

ugh.

you shake your thoughts. you can’t be thinking about this right now. you were at the movies, dead split in the middle of the sisters.

tara on your right and sam on your left.

tara’s had was places on your biceps, her nails slightly digging in it.

it wasn’t like you could even hear the movie with sam and tara ‘silently’ arguing.

they had been arguing all the day, hell, they even argued the whole way here. something about tara’s grades and her being on academic probation.

“i don’t know if you’ve forgotten but you’re not my parent, sam! you’re my big sister and only that. you can dictate what i do.”

you bite your lips, keeping your head straight. in the corner of your eye, you could see sam’s eyebrow furrow hard.

“well somebody has to be a parent to you. it’s not like mom is doing it.”

your turn your head to your girlfriend, silently hissing at how hard her nails were now digging into your bicep.

“tar—”

the younger carpenter cuts you off, “well she was doing it before you came back and ruined everything. if you would’ve just stayed awa—”

“tara.” this time you really do interject, knowing the things sam has expressed to

you about her relationship with their mom.

“i would’ve stayed away if i’d known you’d end up just like her. a drunk with nothing going for herself.”

you whip your head to sam, pursing your lips. you weren’t sure what to say, tara was your girlfriend but sam was your best friend.

“fuck you.” tara drops your bicep, standing from the peeling leather of the theater’s chair.

“tara wait—” you stand, attempting to the following the storming girl,

“don’t follow me, y/n.” and you knew not to follow her. past arguments of her storming away being knowledge enough.

you turn back to face sam, taking note of the empty movie theater. only you two left.

sam placed her feet into her theater chair, her head turns to the side almost as if she is trying to hid the very visible fact that she were crying.

pausing, you let out a breath before taking your same seat, hesitantly you place a hand on sam’s head, stroking her hair in a comforting manner.

“she’ll come around. you know how tara can be—”

“i just don’t know what to do…i mean, if i let her out of my site she finds trouble, always, somehow. and if i keep her close i’m

being too pushy or overbearing.”

all you can do is purse your lips, your mind wandering to tara. what sam were saying was true. you understood where the older carpenter came from as you had to get tara out of some trouble a few times. you couldn’t understand your girlfriend, why she craved messy things when their were likeminded people around her.

maybe she were rebelling against her mommy issues and forging them to be about her sister issues.

you don’t know. but all you did know was that it were destroying her relationship with her big sister.

“i’m okay…you should go check on her,” you pause your hand movements as sam turns in her seat, facing you.

your eyes wander, studying her face, watching the way the tears glisten off her read cheeks in the theater’s dim light.

licking your lips, your turn away for a moment, “nah, we both know tara, and she wants to left alone.”

“you’re right. i just—i’m sorry…” the carpenter reaches up, wiping the wetness away from her face.

“don’t apologize, sam.”

she gives a weak smile, reaching over to pat your thigh, rubbing it in what was supposed to be a platonic touch. and it were a platonic touch, that linger and intensified when you made eye contact that read more than just comfort.

“sam—”

“fuck it,”

the older carpenter leans into you with haste, removing her hand from your lap and places it on your cheek, she cups it and forcefully pulls your face and body into

hers.

without doubt she kisses you.

your best friend—your girlfriend’s sister kisses you…and you kiss back. your heart pounding with fear and ecstasy, the feeling of your stomach dropping falls to your pants, creating a bulge in your deep wash denim jeans.

your mind was a whirlwind, back and forth, and back and forth between sam and tara. all you could think were what you were doing to tara, what her sister was doing to her—then again, all you could think was about sam was kissing you right now, the girl you’ve wanted since you’d met her.

her tongue going against yours, collecting each other’s spit, or the way her hands were rugging and tugging in your hair, making your groan into your kisses that mixed with her moans.

your dick pulsing in your black calvin kleins that were behind your jeans, you could feel your tip slightly rubbing against the fabric as your boner grew—it were wet, the pre-cum oozing out.

sam’s fingers grip and pull your head back, breaking the kiss.

“sam, wha—”

“shhh,” the girl leans down attaching her lips to your neck and her hands on your belt buckle.

it’s like she wordlessly knew the power she had over you, that you had almost wanted this more than her—almost as long as her.

her fingers brush against your warm abdomen as she undoes your belt, you can hear the way it jiggles as she moves it out the way and heads for the button; then down to the zipper.

“jesus…sam…” you don’t know what felt better, the sam sucked and bit your neck (definitely creating hickies,) or the way she hand were sliding against the fabric of your briefs as she palmed you.

“you feel so big, god,” she groans into her ear before softly biting it, followed by her tongue licking it.

her words became heavy, making you impulse and hot as you can barely taking waiting anymore, you grip the girl by the waist, effortlessly pulling her into your lap, her left on either side of you and center perfect on top of yours, the only barrier: your clothes.

“i love you,” she rocks back and forth, you head thrown back, eyes shut closed in pleasure as you softly whine at the friction—hands still firmly on the girls hips.

“i’ve loved you since—” the carpenter hisses at the pleasure, pausing in between her words.

“since i can remember, but, fuck—i didn’t wanna ruin our friendship,” sam leans forward in order to places small pecks on your exposed jawline.

“so, i pushed you towards tara because i knew, she, liked you too…but fuck…i can’t take it anymore.”

you groan, “i love you too sam. i want you. i need you.”

you desperately confess to the girl.

sam presses her forehead against yours, her tongue comes out to lick the corner of your mouth before motioning you into a sloppy, soft, and hurried kiss—you were so deep into it with desire you don’t realize sam’s slipped her hand into your boxers until she starts stroking you.

“don’t be a tease.”

“don’t be a baby. i’ve heard you and tara going at it…i know how long you can last, y/n.”

you wanna say something smart back but you feel a familiar pit coming to you stomach, all the pressure building from the pleasurable teasing.

“i’m going cum—fuck, sam i’m gonna—” you let out a deep moan, feeling your load shoot into your boxers, definitely coating sam’s hand in the mix—to which she pulls out, her eyes trained on yours as she licks the substance from her hand.

“you’re sick,” your grimace in awe of her actions.

“what are you doing—”

“relax, i’m taking my pants off.” sam continues climbing off your lap, you mind traveling back to the fact that you were literally in the middle of a movie theater right now. you begging to panic just a little.

“sam, what if we get caught?”

“we would’ve gotten caught the second i started touching you if that were the case,”

you scoff, wordlessly watching as the now undressed girl takes you, half hard, into her hands—holding your member straight up she climbs into your lap and aligns herself above you.

she hovers for a second, and you comment.

“no condom?”

“that requires more waiting,”

“are you sure you can take me?”

“we’ll make it fit,” sam rushes out, annoyed by your questions—she forgot how anxious you tended to get in situations.

the carpenter takes a deep breath, slowly but surely sinking down onto you.

“you can move,” she urges in a grunt, she expected you to be big but wowza.

“jesus, sam,” you wrap your arms around her waist, you head falling into her chest as you move your hips in an introducing pace.

her arms fall around you shoulders, eyes squeezed shut at the slightly pain that was turning to undeniable pleasure by the second. her body was molded to yours as if you were made to fuck each other.

you wanted to feel more bad than you did—you wanted to stop and say that you were a piece of shit for cheating, let alone cheating with her own sister—cheating with someone you call your best friend. but the feelings were outweighed.

you felt electrified having sam here the way she was with you—the fact that she kissed you first, she made you cum—she’s wanted you for long, now that she finally has you she can’t even resist to lick your cum from her own hands.

your dick pulsing into her as you thrust, feeling the way she gushes around and she clutches to you with each stroke.

her nails were in your clothed back and your mouth was attached to your left nipple, licking and biting at it.

“oh my—it’s like your in my stomach,” the girl moans as you move at a faster pace.

“you’re so deep.”

you swirl your tongue, moving up her chest to her collarbone to her jaw, you kissed and sucked, leaving your own marks before finally connecting your lips again—you both moan into each’s other mouths.

you arms still tightly around the girl’s small frame, you thrusts become hurried at pace—sam throws her head back, unable to kiss you from so much pleasure, only shrieks of moans came from her mouth. you intently watched, feeling a sense of cockiness having smart mouthed ‘i don’t need anyone’ sam carpenter like this.

“fuc—now you’re gonna make me cum.”

“cum, sam. i want you to cum for me…all mines...”

sam leans forward, her body going limp on you while her leans twitch, only a silent moan is able to leave her mouth and you can feel her gushed around you.

“hang on,” you lift her up enough to pull yourself out, letting her back down you lap.

you wiggle, lifting you white shirt, just enough to reveal your stomach.

you reach, wrapping your hand around your shaft and start to stroke, using sam’s cum as lube as you attempt to finish yourself off.

“sorry…got a second load…” you utter, embarrassed—sam, however, in a daze and finding your action kind of hot.

due to you already being on the brink, you cum quick—this time the substance lands over your stomach, which you are quick to wipe with you shirt.

“sorry…”

sam leans in for a quick kiss, “don’t. it was hot.”

you shake your head, turning your attention to your phone that sat in the seat beside you—lit up with a text.

tara 💓: come pick me up. i’m at the diner across the street.

…

tara💓: make sam sit in the back 🙄

oh shit.

━━━👩🏽‍💻wrote this while i was stoned so its prob terrible uhmmm yuh 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎 #shelyingtomeimlyingtoherbothaintshit

[opheliachoi99]

ᜊ 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 ᜊ

FEATURING : Itoshi Sae, Michael Kaiser, Oliver Aiku, and Itoshi Rin

ABOUT : Them as your long distance fiancé, which will unexpectedly becomes your husband in near time. In which you kept your pain, because you couldn't have the right time to tell them about you and your baby.

Note : These are short scenarios for each characters, I was inspired by the song "When She Cries" by Restless Heart. Enjoy reading!

=͟͟͞͞➳❥ Itoshi Sae

— You breathed heavily, as you felt nauseous all of a sudden. Timing, your fiancé Sae called. "Hello? Honey! How are you? Currently in Barcelona Airport, I was gonna surprise you that I was coming home, but I couldn't seem to decide what to bring, so gotta tell you instead! How's our new house in London—? H-hello? Baby? Are you there?" You couldn't respond as you were already in the bathroom puking on the toilet.

"Honey! Hello? Are you okay? Hello?" He kept bugging but you were already in the urge to grab a pregnancy test and took it quickly "Honey, this isn't funny. I hear some rattling in the background, what are you doing?"

You gasped as you saw the results. "Positive." You sternly spoke "Positive? What do you mean pos— oh. Oh. My. Gosh. BABY! PLEASE REST! I'LL BE HOME 6 HOURS IN TIME, PLEASE BARE WITH ME!" You suddenly cried because you couldn't bare the pain you're feeling right now.

Shit. Don't tell me she's..

— Timeskip —

Sae came home just in time, he was carrying a lot of stuff, but he dropped everything except a bottle of water and some pills.

"BABY I'M HERE! I KNEW I HAD TO TRAVEL BACK TO YOU FOR A CERTAIN REASON! I just had a feeling.." There you laid on the corner of the bed, still feeling nauseous.

"Sae, b-baby, I'm.." You stuttered. "Shh.. I know, I'm here. I got water, and some pills to reduce the nausea you're feeling."

He knelt down towards your belly level "So you're coming soon huh? Better take care of your mom here, she's getting dizzy and sick, I don't want that you know" You slightly chuckle "Love, you're so weird." You stated.

"Oh, if I'm weird, I wonder how the little one will be- I'll be teaching this little buddy how to play soccer the moment they come out- but- what if it's a girl— EVEN BETTER!" He ran around the room like a kid full of excitement, this wasn't his typical way of acting, but he was way too excited to be a father. You suddenly cried, "Baby, hey, why are you crying? I'm here now!" He gently sat next you "I-" You sniffled "I thought I was going to suffer alone.. I thought you wouldn't come back.. I thought I would end up being a single moth—"

"Shh" Sae placed his index finger on your lips, signaling you to no longer continue "Honey, I'm here. You're not suffering alone, You won't be taking care of this baby alone. I've been out of the country because of my career, but now, I can set aside my soccer career. Taking care of you and the baby is much more important, don't worry. I've cancelled all my schedules, I'm free the whole year. If I needed to go back to Spain, I'll make sure you'll come along this time. At least I can keep an eye on you" He pecked your forehead as reassurance.

"I will never leave you, so don't cry, it hurts seeing you cry and suffering with pregnancy. I love you okay?" He kissed you once again and you nodded as you felt reassured everything was alright.

=͟͟͞͞➳❥ Michael Kaiser

— You and Kaiser were happily talking with each other through the phone, as you were sipping tea in your balcony floor, admiring the view from there as you talked with the love of your life.

"Once our final game is done meine liebe, I'll come home straight to you and we'll binge watch your favourite series the whole night, how does that sound? Hmm?" His voice muttered from the other end of the phone "I'd love that schatz, I'll be wait—" "Baby? Liebe? Hello? You were saying?" Kaiser's eyes widen as he heard vomit noises from the end of your line "Baby? Are you okay? Hello?" Your voice echoed the bathroom as you cried, you hated the feeling when you puke, it was the worst "Liebe? Are you vomiting?" Kaiser was already too worried "Baby I think I'm—" You continuously vomited. "Ahh!! Where's the pregnancy test?" You yelled.

"Preg— PREGNANCY TEST?!?! SCHATZ DON'T TELL ME.. Fuck." He ended the call immediately.

You didn't noticed he ended the call because you were too stunned from what you saw right in front of you.

"P-positive? No way.. It can't be.. He's still away for three months.." You felt nauseous once again and went back to the toilet seat to puke.

— Timeskip —

"Shit, shit, shit" Kaiser cussed as he was packing stuff in his luggage. "Michael? Where are you off to?" Ness barged in without notice "I'm going back to Germany." Kaiser coldly spoke "Huh? But our training has not completed yet- besides, what's the rush? You told your fiancé that you'll be back after three months."

"Correction, my wife. And she needs me, soccer can wait. Tell Ego, I'm heading out, I'll make it all up, but cannot promise as well. For now, my liebe needs me." Kaiser seriously stated as he finishes packing.

"I'll be going now, tell Yoichi he's in charge now, ciao!"

"I- but-" Kaiser didn't let Ness finish and he slams the door from behind. Ness sighed "It's like he's having a baby or something-" He just shrugged and went off to tell everyone what happened.

— Timeskip —

Kaiser arrived just in time. He unloaded his luggages and extra stuff from the back of his car "Gosh, I hope these stuff will help her.."

He arrived towards your room, he sees you resting peacefully in bed. He caressed your cheeks and kissed your forehead "I'm home meine liebe." He scanned around the room, and saw your leftover tea outside the balcony, and he took it and closed the unclosed sliding door from the balcony.

He surveilled the bathroom as he saw what a mess it was, and he saw a pregnancy test lying on the bathroom counter "Fuck, it's positive?! YAHOO!!" His loud voice woke you up.

"Micha?" You swore you heard a familiar voice. "Liebe!" Your ears rang as you heard it clearly.

You jumped from startledness as Kaiser came out the bathroom with the pregnancy test in his hand. "SCHATZ?!? WE'RE HAVING A BABY!!!?" He jumped for joy as he immediately pounced himself in bed with you kissing you non-stop.

You suddenly cried. "Liebe, why are you crying? I'm here!"

You suddenly laughed "Micha.. It's just that, I thought you would come back much more later.. I did not expect you to come home so early.. I'm overwhelmed.." You spoke lightly.

"Oh my süßer Schatz, I can already sense, wait no, I felt you were in need, especially you're carrying our mini us. It's unacceptable if you're suffering alone" His words made your tears fall "Aww Micha.."

"Now now, you want ice cream? As soon as I landed, that was the first thing I bought for you" He proudly said, which made you laugh "That's the pretty smile I wanted to see, now I'll go get it okay? I'm sure little one wants one too hmm?" He spoke to your belly. He kissed your tummy and your lips "Ich liebe dich, schatz. Remember that. I'll go grab the ice cream and extra snacks and we'll watch the series? Like I promised" He winked at you as he left the room to grab the food he mentioned.

You simply laughed, too lucky to have loving fiancé, or should I say, husband, and a father of your future child.

=͟͟͞͞➳❥ Oliver Aiku

— You were cooking ramen for your dinner, as a way to stop your stress over your fiancé Oliver Aiku. He was quite a pain in the ass, but, despite your fiery anger towards him, deep inside you were wishing he would show actions as a proper fiancé.

As you were cooking, tears started to flow. Mood swings suddenly hit you out of the blue. You wiped your tears, turned off the stove and went to the dining room to eat. You were thinking your menstruation was coming up, so you didn't bother to worry.

You were alone, as usual. Aiku has been very busy with his soccer career, and he's always either with Shidou or Sendou. You didn't mind because both were also your friends and constantly updates you wherever they are when Aiku couldn't.

Sendou sent a voice message using Aiku's number saying; "Hey Mrs. Aiku~ your fiancé is at it again, so many people interviewing your bae, what a busy man he is, don't worry, his fangirls won't be able to approach him because I lead them to me and Shidou instead! And damn they're hot!"

You simply let out a small chuckle as you were listening to their update, but at the same time you sighed, wishing Aiku himself would update you instead.

You left your phone open as you went to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

— Timeskip —

You came out the bathroom looking fresh as you just came out from showering. You were about to grab your novel to read when your phone rang, it was Aiku's number, you prayed it was Aiku who was calling this time, but sighed as you saw Shidou instead. "What now?" You let out a tone of annoyance "Hey bae! Just wanted to call on behalf of your hubby, he asked how were you?" Shidou spoke.

"Eh? He could've just told me directly- is he really that bus—" You paused for a bit, as you swore you felt a painful twist in your stomach "Really that what?" Shidou asked "I said is he really that busy to the point he couldn't ask me direct—" You paused again.

"Bae, if you keep on pausing on a wrong timing for fun- stop it, it's not funny" He sassily rolled his eyes "Wait- I need to go to the bathroom real quick.." You went to the bathroom and leaned your phone near the mirror, still on video call with Shidou.

"Uhm- bae? You good— oh my goodness-" You vomited and cried "I'm not feeling well Ryu.. I don't feel good.." You vomited once again "Oh shit- SENDOU!! CALL AIKU IMMEDIATELY! HIS WIFEY IS PUKING RAINBOWS AND SHIT-" Shidou panicked.

You cared less on what's happening on call, you couldn't think straight because your stomach really hurt and the nauseous feeling is taking over, you suddenly cried because of the pain your feeling right now "Shit, must've been the ramen that I ate.." You gaslighted yourself "Bae! When was the last time you had your period?"

You paused for a moment..

"NO! IT CAN'T BE!" You yelled as it echoed around the bathroom as you intensely find a pregnant test somewhere in the room.

"Bingo! Shit, this can't be." You groaned as you took the test.

Silence took over the atmosphere "Uh- Bae? Hello? Sendou! She's quiet!" Shidou panicked again. "Huh? Hello? Our beloved Mrs. Aiku! You good there?" Sendou asked from the end of the line.

You suddenly let out a sharp scream "DAMN WOMAN- CALM DOWN!" Shidou yelled back.

"I'M FUCKING PREGNANT.. IT'S POSITIVE!" You cried "Well shit, I'm telling Aiku, if he ain't listening I'm going to smack the shit out of 'em" Sendou spoke as Shidou ended the call.

You sat there in the bathroom floor spacing out, you soon started crying, knowing that Oliver wouldn't be able to be by your side during your pregnancy days. You sighed and suddenly felt nauseous once again and felt to urge to vomit once more.

— Timeskip —

The front door has been slammed open, with running feet speeding up the stairs.

"My beloved!" Aiku barged in the room, looking for an nauseous fiancé. He checked the bathroom and saw how messy it was, and the smell of vomit was still a bit humid.

"Shit. Where is she?" He scanned every corner of the room until he spotted you spacing out on the couch of the balcony, your eyes being lifeless looking. He soon felt guilt all over him.

He slowly opened the sliding door leading outside the balcony "Baby? I-I'm sorry... I'm here now.." Silence. Silence was the only reply he got from you. "Is it true? It's positive? I-I'm going to be a father?" Still silence.

He sadly sighed and knelt down to see your eyes "My love? Please, talk to me.."

Your eyes soon teared up "You're the one to talk." You replied coldly. "Baby, I'm at fault here I know, I just wanted to clarify if I'm gonna be a fath—"

"WHO SAID YOUR GOING TO BE A FATHER? AFTER HOW YOU TREATED ME?" Aiku went silent. "You asked me to marry you and I said yes, and this is the treatment that I received?!! I feel the mockery Oliver.." You cried.

Oliver gulped "I'm sorry okay? I've been so busy, relying that I finally got a soon-to-be wife, but I forgot to give time.." Your tears continuously flowing.

"Hey baby, don't cry, it's not healthy for the baby.. I don't want to harm you and our child.. You want me here? I'll do it. I'll sacrifice my soccer career. I'll be a proper husband and a father." He stated.

"All you do is talk. Not a single action shown." You replied with a weak tone, tears still flowing.

A few seconds you felt surprised because Aiku is now carrying you in bridal style "Hey! Put me down!" You demanded "You said wanted some action, I'll show you what I just said, I mean it. Again, I'm sorry my baby, can you forgive me?" He asked in a pleading tone.

"Make me." He suddenly kissed you, a soft and warm kiss, which melted your heart. He pecked your cheeks, nose, and forehead after "Now can you forgive me?" You chuckled. "Fine, but I'm still mad at you. I only ate ramen for dinner just so you know." Aiku's eyes widened.

"Am I hearing it right? Ramen?! I don't think so, that's not healthy for the baby. I'll make you soup, it's much more healthier" He demanded "Pfft- since when can you cook?" "Pardon me? I can cook, I just couldn't show you because I was too busy, now I'm here, you'll know" He winked.

You couldn't help but to giggle over his cheesy expression.

A few minutes passed he came with the soup as promised "Here my love, served warm and tasty~" He said as he sat next to you on the bed. He soon fed you spoonful of the soup "Mmm! Tasty indeed! Wow honey, you do cook! Cook for me some time please!" You praised "From now on I'll cook for you everyday!" "Promise?"

"Promise."

— Timeskip —

Shidou and Sendou arrived with extra foods and drinks, "You almost lost the keys- we could've been locked outside-" Sendou said "Eh- they're here anyway, they can open up for us" Shidou replied.

"What if they're asleep-" Sendou added as he placed the paper bags filled with foods and drinks. "Nah they're still up, LOVEBIRDS WE'RE HERE!" Shidou yelled.

"Oh for crying out loud Shidou keep it down!" Sendou spoke sternly as they went up the stairs.

"I told you they're still— awake.." Shidou lowered his voice as he approached your room "See what I mean-" Sendou stated.

You and Aiku were comfortably sleeping in bed cuddling and Aiku continuously caressing your hair. Aiku slowly opened his eyes and spotted his friends and did the "shh" expression, as a sign to keep it down.

Both gave him a thumbs up and Shidou quickly took a pic of you two peacefully resting and swiftly went back downstairs.

Aiku had enough of his friends mischief, he checked up on you and saw you calmly resting, a smile plastered on his face.

"I'm never hurting your precious soul again.." He whispered and gently gave you a peck on the forehead, and he gently went back to sleep.

=͟͟͞͞➳❥ Itoshi Rin

— You finally rested as you've just finished your spring cleaning. You let out a sigh, opening your phone with no notifications from him.

"As usual, no update from him.." You closed your phone and decided to read a novel to pass the time.

The novel you read made your tears drop as you relate to the main character of the story, having a cold and airy fiancé is quite hard.

You closed the novel and stared at the ceiling blankly. You thought of something on how to get Rin's attention. But you suddenly remembered, he still has that caring and loving side. Suddenly your phone popped up an notification, it said;

Rin : [ Hello love, I'll be coming home later in the evening, what do you want for a souvenir? ]

You let out a small chuckle, you seemed so contented and happy from a single notification from him.

Your brows suddenly furrowed, as you felt nauseous and weird, you tried to brush it off with a smile. But as you were replying, that uneasy feeling came back again.

You felt the urge to vomit so you quickly went to the bathroom and threw your phone to the bed, but as you threw your phone out of impatience, you accidentally pressed the call button.

But, Rin immediately answered it. Which was a miracle, but he wasn't the type to really ignore you, he proposed to you for a reason, he loves you.

"Hello? Darling? Uhm- your camera seems to be facing the ceiling-" Rin felt confused "So- uhm- about my question- you kept typing, I expected a long message but—" He paused as he heard a vomit from the end of your line "Honey?!" His tone suddenly changed "Hello?!?" He kept calling your name but no response, instead he keeps hearing you vomit from a distance.

"Shit, never knew this time would be coming.." He said as he ended the call.

On the other hand, you tried to gasp for air. You couldn't help but sob "What is going on with me?!" You cried.

You spaced out for a bit and vomited again.

You went back to bed to see your phone laying on the spot, you noticed some notifications, so you continued messaging Rin without knowing what happened before.

You : [ Anything Rin! I'll accept anything! Thank you for asking! Your presence is what I need the most tho :( ]

After messaging Rin, you decided to take a nap.

— Timeskip —

Rin finally arrived, barging in as if someone was chasing him. "Darling?!! I'm home!" He yelled as he placed all his stuff down and running up the stairs panting.

"HONEY!"

"AHH-" You gasped as you immediately sat up from your slumber "Rin?! What happened?!" You worriedly asked.

Rin ran towards you with a worried face "Are you okay? I brought everything you need" You suddenly felt overwhelmed as his actions were different so suddenly. "H-huh? Rin? Is everything okay?" You seemed confused.

"Oh my gosh" He grabbed a pregnancy test from his pocket "Here take this." He said as he assisted you all the way to the bathroom "What is this? H-hey!" He shuts the door for you.

A few minutes passed as he was walking back and forth from the bedroom, waiting for you to come out, when you did, he immediately checked up on you "So?"

You gulped "I-I'm.." You cried "Shh.. Hey.. Tell me" He sweeps a stray tuft of hair off your face so he could see you clearly. "I'm pregnant.." He went silent for a moment and gave you some space.

You were scared, so you silently cried.

"WOOHOO!! I'M FINALLY GOING TO BE A FATHER! I'M TELLING NII-CHAN!!" He happily yelled as he hugged you tightly.

"Why are you crying? Hey, I'm happy.. Finally.. I'm sorry if I couldn't be here in time.." He kissed your cheek.

You cried even more now, your a crying mess "I just wanted you here!! I'm so lonely in this huge mansion.." He suddenly chuckled "I'm sorry, you know there's a reason why I'm always away right?" You nodded. "I missed you a lot too, I'm just- not good at expressing on what I feel. I'm sorry.."

You went silent for a moment. "I'm sorry for not knowing that.. Why don't let's help each other hmm?" You suggested.

"That's a good suggestion darling, great timing. I won't be away for awhile, so I'll be here doing husband and father duties." He coldly stated, but you felt the care in his tone at the same time.

"I love that!"

"I love you." He said as he cupped your cheeks to kiss you warmly.

[insomniadreamzz]

OK OK OK FOLLOWING THE PREGNANCY STORYLINE LETS IMAGINE ISHA IS HERE A CUTE FLUFFY THING WITH EITHER ISHA MEETING THE BABY OR FINDING OUT READER IS PREGNANT AND THAT SHES GONNA BE A BIG SIS

Our family

Jinx x Fem!Reader ft. Isha (plus a little bonus with Sevika)

Fluff

A continuation from the fic „My Everything“ https://www.tumblr.com/insomniadreamzz/772011828255621120/hey-how-are-you-i-wanted-to-request-gp-jinx-x

You still remember when Isha found out she gonna be a big sister, the way her eyes were literally glowing with happiness. Isha was mute but she expressed her happiness clearly, already doing little doodles of her and her sister together with you and Jinx. The way she put her little head on your baby bump to feel her sister kick, it was just too cute.

Jinx already set up some stuff for the little one, making sure youre gonna have everything you needed when the baby will arrive and soon it happened.

You can still remember how Jinx held your hand and never left your side. Singed, the only doctor here in Zaun also made an appearance to make sure everything went well. He wasn’t used to be part of something like that very often but he was glad he could help you out in that situation. Jinx kisses on your forehead and the way she encouraged you during that hard time, it was still stuck in your head how gentle and loving she can be and then it happened. When you first heard your little one cry, both of you shed tears of happiness, feeling relieved that everything went good. It was a little girl.

When you both got back home after that, Jinx immediately ushered you to bed, figuring you must be tired as you had your newborn in your arms, Jinx never leaving your side.

„Look how cute she is…our little one…“ She cooed, holding you close as she admired your daughter, making you smile so happily. „Of course she is, she is ours.“ You mentioned, looking into your girlfriend’s eyes. „What should we name her?“ You asked and Jinx already got an idea, something that she was thinking about for a longer time now since she knew you are pregnant.

„Powder.“ Jinx said, making your eyes widen in confusion, knowing it was Jinx‘s actual name. „Powder?“ You asked, Jinx nodding in response. „Yes. I want to have a good connection to that name now. Every time I hear it I have to think about myself when I was younger and…certain things happened but I want to forget that. I want to be happy hearing the name Powder and not feel triggered anymore by that name. She will be a better Powder, not like me. I am Jinx now, Powder died in me but we can make her be a better Powder than I was.“ You heard her voice crack a little, seeing little tears running down her cheeks. This really meant a lot to Jinx, you knew it. „Then she will be Powder.“ You agreed with her, using your free hand to caress her back gently, getting back her attention towards you. „Thank you my love.“ She said before placing a little kiss on your lips.

The moment got interrupted by little footsteps, it was Isha who curiously walked up to you, Jinx shifting to make space for Isha between you both. „Isha! Come here, say hello to your little sister.“ Jinx said, letting the girl slip beside you as she looked at the little one with wide happy eyes, her small hand gently touching Powder as if welcoming her.

„Now you are a big sister. You can show her everything when she gets a little bigger, cool right?“ You said, Isha nodding at your words, feeling really happy to be a big sister now plus she was excited to have someone to play with in the future as well.

You talked a little more this evening until all of you just fell asleep. Powder on your chest and Isha sleeping between you and Jinx, all cuddled up in one bed. It was a very peaceful moment. Jinx slept for the first time very happily and calm, the voices in her head not bothering her at all. She was truly happy for the first time and she won’t let anyone destroy this happy life she had.

The next morning Sevika was on her way to Jinx’s hideout, it’s been a while since she showed up, probably hanging around in the Last Drop or doing her usual work. Sevika knew Jinx from when Silco took her with him so she felt like she had to look for her every now and then, making sure Jinx was alright.

„Jinx where the fuck are-…“ She started but stopped immediately in her tracks as she saw Jinx holding a baby while you and Isha were still sleeping cuddled up together. „Where did that baby come from?“ She asked with a raised eyebrow, not trusting this situation for now.

„That’s my daughter which came right out of my girlfriend if you want to know.“ Jinx replied with her usual sassy behavior. Sevika didn’t want to know any more details, shaking it off as she stepped closer to Jinx, having a closer look at the baby. „That’s…really yours?“ She asked again, being a little bit shocked, Jinx nodding in response. „Yep! Does auntie Sevika want to say hello to little Powder? Or are you gonna chicken out?“ Obviously Jinx had to tease Sevika but the older woman didn’t let her make her annoyed as she just nodded. Jinx helped Sevika to hold Powder with her arm, the baby looking even smaller in her strong arm. „There you go.“

Sevika stared at the baby with a unusual soft gaze. „Aw…did you just say auntie Sevika?“ She asked to be sure. „Of course! You’re the only one left who’s like a family to me after Silco died.“ Jinx became soft as she said that, thinking it was about time to speak the truth to Sevika, making the other womans eyes water a little. „Silco would be so happy and proud of you Jinx.“ Sevika mentioned, making Jinx almost cry but she held back her tears. Instead a little tear rolled down Sevika‘s cheek. „Are you crying?“ Jinx tilted her head as she gazed at Sevika who just shook her head. „No I am not.“ She said, making Jinx chuckle in response. „Damn you are a bad liar.“

And with that both started chuckling.

[lucygraysboy]

“it’s a wonder how they do it, right? i mean, they don’t even speak our language and somehow they just know if you’re a good or bad person, and what your intentions are. do you think they can read it off of our body language? or what’s happening in their heads?” thinking out loud, pale blue eyes fixated on the back of her head as his hand continues to travel across her back. over her shoulder, along the bumps at the nape of her neck, inching closer and closer to her other arm. olive skin covered in suds. “mhm,” he hums softly, praying she doesn’t turn around. he doesn’t want her to see him blushing like a schoolboy. “when i first walked in here, i thought that you’d ran away, but then i saw reva blue and began to wonder why you’d ever want to leave her behind… and started to question my own sanity, asked myself if you were real or a figment of my imagination,” he admits, chuckling sheepishly because it’s embarrassing to a certain degree. “i will never cause you any harm, lucy gray. i just need you to know that, okay?” even if she won’t instantly put all her trust in him. “and if ever want to go your separate way, i won’t go after you unless you want me to.” he’s not his brother. “and your favorite dessert is blueberry pie.” noted, he remembers. but he still leaves enough room for her to correct him if he’s wrong. “but not all desserts make you happy? that doesn’t make sense,” he playfully argues, just trying to provoke her to convince him otherwise. “horses.” what an easy question, he thinks. “i love and respect all animals.” even the squirrel that became their dinner as hard to believe as it may be. “birds and dogs and cats and cows and butterflies, but horses are just so special. my mother’s friend, back at the capitol, had stables bigger than whole neighborhoods in district twelve. plenty of stunning thoroughbreds. most of them had probably been imported from district eleven or something. anyway, there was this one chestnut mare that i really admired, could watch her for hours. she could run so fast…” eyes alight at the memory, but then he realizes that he’s been rambling for a long time and must be boring her to death. “sorry, got a little carried away. um, what’s yours?” he inquires, meaning her favorite animal. too bad there are no horses in district thirteen. it’s been so long since the last time he was near one… “thanks for trustin’ me enough.” to show him the wound on her leg. thank god he had that jar of iodine with him. “and how will that be your fault? don’t blame yourself for things that happened because other people put you in a certain position. what were you supposed to do? grab a brush on your way out? you had more important matters to worry about. it’s really not your fault, lucy gray. it’s not like you’re a slob by nature and let this happen out of laziness. you’ve been through a lot. it’s only natural,” he softly corrects, reaching around her petite frame and handing her the soapy washcloth so that she can scrub her legs and torso. calloused fingertips sinking beneath the surface, getting wet before gathering her long hair with nothing but affection. “we won’t be cuttin’ it to your ears. if we can’t get all the tangles out, we’ll braid it and… well, maybe my mother,” the one who’s most likely sick with worry back in thirteen, “will find a way to help us.” but right now, he’ll focus on combing through these pretty locks with his fingers, careful not to pull too hard.

“i think they can definitely tell, who’s a good person and who’s tryin’ to bring harm. animal’s are intuitive like that.” lucy gray reassures, smiling softly as her arm stays around her bent knees, her free arm tracing circles in the water. “oh…yeah?” brow lifting, looking over her shoulder at him before eyes glance back towards the water. shying up momentarily again. “of course not.” leave him as a single parent. a twitch of amusement pulling at her lips before softening at the thought, thinking how she can’t run. but even it she could, would she? not… exactly. not when she doesn’t have a gnawing fear in her chest yet towards him. just like the animals they speak of… if she doesn’t have a reason or sense a reason, she won’t leave. just like deer and birds, she too has those same instincts. “sort of. i mean, i can choose a favorite dessert. i can choose a favorite month. but i can’t choose a favorite color, animal or flower. all flowers, colors and animals make me happy. hard to choose just one.” a soft laugh emits, gently shrugging her thin shoulders. “what’s your favorite animal?” questioning before hearing the awful story of the man he knew and before too long her face is contorting into disgust and stomach churning, vomit reflexes on the rise when he starts saying thing about smells. “lord, then, i sure am lucky you found me in time. i might’ve suffered the same thing. that’s sickenin’, bless his poor soul havin’ to suffer all through that.” feeling sympathy and disgust, quickly trying to think of something else. she definitely doesn’t want to suffer like that and scared up to keep watching her wounds. “i hope not, i really like my hair. but then again… that’ll be my fault, maybe i’ll learn.” scolding herself— to at least brush her fingers through it and keep it from getting so matted. “it’d be devastatin’ cutting it off to my ears.” that gives her the notion to quickly start trying with her fingers to start pulling some knots out, feeling a little panicky on needing the answer if she’ll get to spare it or not. the rubs on her back feel so pleasant, too. the most soothing feeling she’s felt in awhile but she can’t exactly relax with her hair on the line.

[back2bluesidex]

To Be Popular - JJK [Chapter 1]

Pairing: Social Media Influencer! Jungkook X Marketing Manager! Reader ft. Yoongi

Summary:

You love everything about social media - apart from the ever-growing number of social media influencers. You don't understand how these people gain followers and admirers just by installing a camera and doing very basic things in front of it. And you despise how some of them can do anything to gain fame, to be popular - even if it includes uploading their bedroom scene in pornsites aka people like Jeon Jungkook. But when your company launches a new product and your department head tasks you with signing Jeon Jungkook up as an endorsement partner - you have no choice but to chase him like the corporate slave that you are. However, things turn worse when you embroil in a dating rumor with him and have to keep the game going for the sake of everything. is it really for the worse or things will turn in a way you never expected it to?  

Theme: Strangers to lovers au, fake dating au, kind of enemies to lover au, angst, smut, fluff.

Full Series Word Count: 26k

Chapter word count: 5.8k+

Warnings: tiny flirting, argument, that's all.

Masterlist | Patreon (For access to the complete series)

Taglist requests are open.

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

Chapter index: -

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |

Or read the full series right away on Patreon!!

Thanks to the every possible gods out there, you are capable of keeping your poker face even when your insides are burning with rage. 

Like right now. 

First of all you landed in a proposition with one of the people you don’t even like, that too, with the most insufferable one in question. 

Secondly, your superiors are treating him as if he has won a gold medal or something. 

Min Yoongi - the man who is known for his nonchalance and quiet wisdom, can’t seemingly stop giving his gummy smile to this guy, Jeon Jungkook. 

Mrs. Lee, who is probably double the age of the guy, is ogling him as if it's a zombie apocalypse and she hasn’t seen another male for thirty years or so. 

When they both turn to you, you realize they are probably waiting for you to react the same way as them. 

Too bad, you are not even the least bit amused. 

After greeting both of the superiors, Jeon Jungkook looks at you - with those big ass googly eyes. A kind smile plays on his lips. 

He extends his hand with a soft “nice to meet you.” 

Well. definitely not the same. You scream internally but you compose yourself and return his smile, somewhat half-assed, as you wrap your small hand around his big veiny ones (the same hand that does those dirty deeds with others of his stature).

“Nice to meet you too.” you murmur only because Yoongi is giving you those eyes you absolutely love and hate at the same time. 

Yoongi gestures to Jungkook to take the seat, “So, Mr. Jeon. I assume you have gone through our proposal already?”

“Umm.. yeah. My manager did go through your proposal and briefed me.” Jeon Jungkook says with a voice that doesn’t match that gruff, breathy one from the video. 

Why the fuck do I keep thinking of the video? You inhale a long breath. 

“Okay so.. Is there any question in your mind? Or do you want me to go through it all once again?” Yoongi adds good naturedly.  

“Umm no actually. I came here to decline your offer.” Jungkook drops the bomb. If you are low-key happy then you don’t let it show on your face. 

“W-what? Why? Is there any part of the offer that is not up to your liking? We can revise it anytime you want.” Mrs. Lee butts in. 

“Uh. no not that. I personally don’t like to use the devices that your company manufactures. All of your laptops are so bulky, the chassis is always too old-fashioned. It’s not something Jeon Jungkook would use, you know what I mean?” Jungkook reasons smugly, as he leans on the backrest of his chair and crosses his legs. 

You hear blood rushing to your brain and before any of your superiors can say anything you start speaking, “oh really? Must be tough to carry our laptops to a pornset or something, huh?” 

You see Jungkook’s eyes going comically wide as he tries to register what you have just said. 

“What? What are you talking about?” he semi-screams. His attention is now trained only and only on you. 

“You know very well what I am talking about, Mr. Jeon.” you lean on the table just as smugly. Under the table Yoongi kicks on your shin but you dodge his attack at the right time. 

Jungkook laughs. A big, thunderous laugh, “I don’t see it being any of your business to question what I do in my free time, is it?” 

You smirk. If he thought you are going to back off that easily, he was wrong, “it definitely is not. But the fact that we chose to offer you this endorsement deal despite your current public reputation, tells a lot about our dedication towards charity.” 

“Oh.. so this is a charity huh?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, “sorry to tell you but Jeon Jungkook doesn’t need any charity.” 

With that Jungkook stands up and gales at you for one last time before he storms out of the room. 

Yoongi slams his head directly on the table making you wince at the loud thud. 

“Y/N! What do you think you did?” Mrs. Lee screams in horror. 

“What?” you shrug in nonchalance, “he was going to say no anyway.” 

“Y/N” Yoongi finally says, probably after struggling not to punch himself in the face for inviting you to the meeting, “we could have negotiated if you chose to stay silent.” 

“But I only said what’s true. This collaboration could have saved his face. He was the one who chose to be an ass- I mean, inconsiderate.” you argue. 

“Oh really? Then why don’t you show him what’s right?” Yoongi says in a sugary voice, one that’s not really good news. 

“What do you mean?” you question, suspicion landing on your brain.

“You need to bring him back if you love the year-end appraisal or you can kiss your promotion goodbye.” he says in a collected voice. 

“What? Yoongi! You can’t do this!” you stand from your seat, and Yoongi only smirks at you. 

“Oh I definitely can. I can also submit a formal complaint against you calming that you have messed up an important deal. Do you want that?” 

You stay silent, questioning your life choices, your career choices. Cursing at the every god above for making you a human when you could have been a worm. 

No job, no money issues, no Min Yoongi, no Jeon Jungkook - only soil and dirt. 

You sit on the chair again, cover your face with both of your hands and curse “fuck everyone”. 

Your eyes zero on your phone this time. The insta handle is burning too bright for the darkness of your room. Honestly, tapping the name is currently hurting your pride. 

But what can you even do - you are a corporate slave after all. And the crush you have on your direct superior, prevents you from being rebellious. 

But more than just that - you know you were wrong. 

Your hate towards the social media influencers clan is pretty much ridiculous and apparently has no reason. 

Is it due to your underlying insecurity? Is it because you believe you are inferior to them? While they make hundreds of dollars per hour, you make a dime? 

You probably hate Jeon Jungkook because he is the same age of yours and yet has everything you don’t? - like an amazing sex life. 

As you tap on the story, it takes you into a video with all colors of gleaming lights. Clearly a club. Loud music blares through your phone speaker, almost paralyzing your ears. 

You can’t see Jeon Jungkook on the screen, obviously because he is the one recording the video. But you can hear him whooing in the background. There are some girls around him for obvious reasons. 

Suddenly you feel jealous of him again. 

He is of your age and he is enjoying a night out at a posh club while you are on your bed, with your ugly pajamas on and you can’t go out because you have work tomorrow. 

As soon as the word “work” registers in your mind, you remember you have been tasked with bringing Jungkook back. 

You look at the screen again. He has added the location, which means you can find the club, find him and apologize (oh god no!) and beg him for another meeting. 

Yes. That's a nice plan. You can then mourn for your dead self-respect with a bucket full of ice-cream. 

You have picked the shortest possible dress you own. 

It’s a shimmery black bodycon that reaches your mid-thigh. The noodle strap of the bodycon dress gives a tempting view of your collar-bone and cleavage. 

You have let your hair lose - you look the best like this. A touch of makeup and you are all ready. 

You know you are attractive but will that be enough for the bouncers to let you inside that posh club? You pray it’s enough. 

When the taxi drops you in front of the well-known club in Gangnam, you spot the line. And thankfully, the queue is not at all terrible. 

Since the clock hasn’t hit 10:00 pm yet, the entry is free. 

When you reach in front of the bouncers, they give you a once-over, then look at each other. Your hands feel clammy because they have rejected almost everyone before you. If you are not wrong then only two of the visitors were let in. 

But then one of them brought the stamp out and held it in front of your face. You gave him your wrist with a squeal of joy. 

You let yourself go blind and deaf with the glaring lights and loud music. Wherever you look, you see people attached to people. Some are dancing, some are drinking, some are making out, some are just standing and talking with drinks in their hands. 

You don’t think you have seen this amount of strangers all year. 

You will admit - you feel alive. 

But no! No Y/N! You are here with a motive, you can’t let yourself be distracted! 

In the story, Jungkook seemed to be close to the bar island. Even though that was more than an hour ago, you still start looking for the bar island. 

“Why are there so many bars?” you mumble to yourself as you scan the entire floor. There are at least four bars here, there must be more on the upper floor. 

You start feeling helpless at once. All these strangers around you, wrapped in wealth, some giving you long looks - trigger your social anxiety. 

Bad decision. It’s a bad decision. You should probably just run away. 

But when you are about to take an u-turn, you see him. 

You see Jeon Jungkook on the dance floor, grinding on a red-headed pretty looking girl. 

He looks - like a fucking wet dream. 

A black baggy jeans, a black t-shirt, some bulky golden chains, his dark hair gleams under the lights. His lip ring shines directly on your eyes and you snap back. 

Great. Now that you have found him.. You can proceed with your plan - which is to beg him. 

Without a second thought, you start stepping on the dance floor. 

There are not a lot of people, so you easily get past everyone and stand there behind him. 

Your eyes drop on his ass, then his hands, his veins and you question your life choices. 

Somebody just crashes on you making you lurch forward. 

Your body slams against Jungkook’s back. You are about to apologize when he reaches behind with his hand and grabs your side. He grinds his ass on you without even looking at your face. 

You feel nauseous. This is the second time you are meeting him and the proximity is very scandalous. 

Placing your hand on top of his, you break free from his hold. 

“Jeon Jungkook, can I please talk to you for a moment?” you scream in his ears. 

He doesn’t stop moving, but you know he has heard you. 

Jungkook slowly moves on his feet while vibing and then turns to face you. 

His mischievous eyes bore into yours as he takes you in slowly. He shamelessly eyes your cleavage then looks back up your face. 

“What?” he screams over the music. 

“Not here. Can we go somewhere quiet?” 

He smirks at you, “oh? Already? Wait- have I seen you before?” 

Your blood turns cold, “no. I mean yeah. Actually-”

“You- that obnoxious employee from Techtonic? Right?” his eyes go wide. 

“Obnoxious? I am obnoxious? Then what are y-” you inhale, “Yes. I am Y/N. You are right. I am from Techtonic. Can I please have a word with you?” 

“No? Why would I spare my precious time on you? So that you can insult me again?” he frowns at your figure before starting to walk away.  

You grab onto his hand, “Please. I am here to apologize. I promise.” 

He looks back, takes a look at the place you are touching him and then looks at you, “if I give you a chance… What will you give me in return?” Jungkook challenges. 

What in the world did you get yourself into? 

You don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your veins. 

I repeat - you don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your veins then what is making you feel so lightheaded? 

If it’s the spicy citrusy smell that Jeon Jungkook’s emitting then you won’t admit it even if you end up dying. 

“Tell me, Y/N. What will I get if I give you another chance?” he challenges again. This time his tongue pokes out of that perfectly small round mouth and plays with the glinting lip ring. 

You don’t understand the science of hearing him clearly despite the sound of loud music and the loud beating of your heart. 

“I- anything. Anything you ask for.” you choke out, uncertainty lacing your voice. 

“Anything I ask for?” Jungkook comes impossibly close to your body. 

You can see long fingers with even longer nails circling around his torso. The red-headed girl is clinged around him. 

“If- If I can afford that.” you choke out again.

“Oh.. you definitely can.” he smirks like a devil. All the smug pride drains from your body at the thought of what he might be asking from you. 

“Come with me.” Jungkook whispers briefly as he takes your hand and guides you through the crowd towards the upper floor. 

The piece of skin, where his fingers are holding your wrist - burns. 

You are ashamed, nervous, afraid - all in all you want to die. 

Just a week ago you were scoffing at your laptop watching this guy make fame out of a porn video and now he is leading you god knows where to do god knows what. 

Before you could take in your surroundings, Jungkook slams you on the nearest wall. He wastes no time in locking you between his arms. 

“You really came here only to convince me? You had no other intention, huh?” He asks with the lowest possible voice. A shiver runs down through the path of your spine. 

“No. What intention would I even have? I fucked things up at the meeting so my superiors are making me clean the mess.” Your voice comes out firmer than what you thought you could manage. 

“Oh? Really? But I think there is something else to it.” Jungkook comes closer to your body. His chest touches yours. You take a sharp inhale but keep the eye-contact intact. 

Jungkook’s eyes dip down to your chest again as he continues, “you want what you watched in that video, don’t you?” he wets his lips once those vile words come out of his mouth. 

Your jaw hits the floor almost, “what the fuck? What makes you think I want you?” 

Jungkook invades whatever was left off of your personal space and whispers right into your ear, “If you accept it nicely, tell me the truth whether you got turned on or not, I will give your company a chance.”  

You gulp at his offer. 

If you say you were completely unaffected after watching him fucking his partner so well, then it will be a lie for sure. 

So… if you swallow your pride and tell him that he indeed had some kind of effect on you - he will be up for another meeting? 

“And what if I tell you the truth?” you question, looking deep into his chocolate eyes. All you see there is mirth. 

“I will schedule another meeting with your company. But I will be declining you all again.” Jungkook adds nonchalantly. 

You scoff at that, pushing him away and making some space between your bodies, “so you are just going to use my confession and insult me in my workplace?” 

“Oooohhhh… You are not dumb, I see?” he muses, stumbling back from your body. 

“Wh-what? Dumb? You thought I am dumb? Mind you, Jeon Jungkook, I get paid for doing actual work and not because I keep hollering at a dumb computer screen in front of camera.” anger flares through every vein in your body. 

“And yet you came here to beg me?” he shrugs smugly. 

“You know what? Fuck you and your stupid followers who feed your stupid ego!” screaming at his face, you take steps away, stomping on the floor even if your heels are killing you already. 

This was a bad idea. Indeed a bad idea. 

You don’t get paid for dealing with these scumbags. So it’s not your responsibility. It’s better to have your appraisal compromised than falling in the trap of Jeon Jungkook. 

You imagine Jungkook’s face in the place of the ice cream tub as you stab your fork in it with as much fierceness as you could find in yourself. 

Yes, you are eating ice-cream with a fork, so that you can imagine Jungkook’s face and stab in it. 

“Fucking nutjob! What do you even think of yourself!” stab stab stab “Karma will hit you back very soon! You fucking asshole!” stab stab stab. 

As if granting your prayers, the cosmos sends a notification to your device. You take the phone to see Yoongi's instagram handle that has sent you a text. 

You start blushing instantly.  

“Is this the universe’s way of making up for today’s trashy encounter?” you murmur to yourself as you open his text. 

It’s a link so maybe it’s one of those cat videos he sends you the links of. 

As you tap on the link, it takes to a post that has been made just an hour ago. The post - a video, containing proofs of Kim Doona (the influencer Jungkook fucked) being a high school bully. The video has texts sent by Doona to the victim, threatening her not to reveal anything. 

Looks like Karma mistook the address. It should have been Jeon Jungkook! 

You go to the comments. 

All of their followers are going crazy, it’s just the same shit in different sentences. So you scroll past it all. 

But there are two comments that catch your eye, actually one comment and its reply. 

Commenter: Can’t believe Jeon Jungkook chose her out of everyone? A class bully? Really Jeon? You could do better. 

Reply 1: What are you even saying? Jungkook probably didn’t even know and mind you, none of them confirmed if they were together or not.  Reply 2: but girl, they f*cked on camera!  Reply 3: How does that confirm their relationship?  Reply 4: Jeon Jungkook has a girlfriend, I caught them at the club just a few hours ago. The proof is in my story. 

Eh? Kim Doona isn’t his girlfriend? That was a rumor? He has another girlfriend who was with him at the club? 

But you were at the club too, you should have seen them. Is it that red-head girl? 

All of these questions swirl inside your head as you tap on the person’s story. 

The video is taken amid a mass of bodies, trying to be discreet, but you can recognize Jeon Jungkook, leading a woman through the crowd. 

Your heart stops beating for a moment when you realize it’s you. Your face is not visible properly, curtained by your hair, and you are thankful for that. 

The video continues as Jungkook takes you towards the quiet corner. The person, who’s recording, moves too for getting a clearer view. 

Now he is hiding behind the end of the wall that Jungkook had pressed you on. The video shows how he had towered you in, whispered in your ear and smirked at you. But then it gets cut right before you push him away! 

“Fuck! I am not his girlfriend! Are you people blind? How do we look like a couple?!” you scream at your phone. 

You decide you have had enough humiliation today. Hence, putting your phone in charge and traveling towards dreamland is a better idea. 

This fiasco may die down by the morning. People will definitely defy the girlfriend theory because you two don’t look like a couple. And your face wasn’t even properly visible in the video. So yeah let sleep solve your problems. 

Except - nothing solves. 

When you wake up and take your phone out of charge, you grasp so hard that your phone slips from your hold and lands on the bed with a thud. 

You have a thousand new follow requests on your instagram account. There are a ton of texts from various people in Ktalk and most of them have sent you insta links. 

You open your younger sister’s text. She has sent everything in caps: 

Y/N!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THIS??? [Link] YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU ARE DATING JEON JUNGKOOK????????

You type your reply: 

Calm down. I am not dating that douchebag. 

And then you tap on the link. 

The post that the link takes you to, can rival your natal chart. It’s a detailed discussion of who you are, what’s your job, how do you look, where you have probably met Jungkook and your insta handel. 

They have also attached a photo of Jungkook talking to you standing in the middle of the dance floor. 

“Fuck fuck fuck!!!!” you curse and curse and curse. 

Why are these people dragging you into this mess now? Why do they have to link you up with him? What the hell is even happening? 

How are you even going to get to work today?

You shoot a quick text to Yoongi saying that you need a off-day today for obvious reasons. He sends one of those rofl emojis along with a thumbs up and you try not to feel down. 

Yoongi doesn’t really understand what you feel for him? Does he? 

You mean you are embroiled in a dating rumor with someone else and he seems to be just fine? 

It’s just another confirmation that he doesn’t reciprocate your stupid crush on him. 

Just when you are about to keep your phone aside and sleep some more, you get a call from an unknown number. 

You don’t think much before receiving it. 

“Hello, who’s this?” your voice is still groggy and your stomach rumbles as you speak on the phone. 

A sweet cherry voice rings in your ear, “Hello, is this Y/N?” 

“Yes. and you?” 

“I am Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook’s manager.” 

The remnant of sleep flies away from your eyes as the man introduces himself. Why is Jeon Jungkook’s manager calling you this early in the morning!? 

“How can I help you?” you voice, not trying to mask your confusion. 

“Y/N, I assume you are aware of the situation, right? I mean the rumors?” 

“I am aware and currently waiting for Mr. Jeon to decline the speculations.” you state as firmly as possible. 

“About that… Why don’t we discuss before revealing anything?” 

You frown at that.

“Discuss? What is there to discuss? You know well that I got to know Mr. Jeon via a professional connection, there is nothing else added to it, except for the fact that I visited the club to convince him for another meeting. And all of these things happened.” 

“Exactly. I know it all and I also know that it’s not nice to be dragged into this mess but we, me and Jungkook, have a proposition to make. We can use this situation for both of our benefits for strictly business purposes.” 

You sigh, “I don’t understand what you are trying to say Mr. Kim.” 

“Yes. That is only natural. So, why don’t we meet face to face and get down on the details of the proposition? You can bring a friend or family if you are not comfortable meeting us alone. How does lunch sound?” 

You think for a moment. You could probably take Jimin with you? Even though it’s monday, he will squeeze some time out of his schedule if you promise him free lunch. 

“Okay. I will send you a confirmation text in this number.” you reply before cutting the call and directing your fingers towards Jimin’s text. 

He has sent you a similar array of texts, so hopefully he won’t have too many questions to ask. He will understand once you give him a brief. 

“I will tell you everything, can you meet me for lunch? I need to meet Jeon Jungkook and his manager for obvious reasons. Free lunch will be offered.” 

His reply comes within a few moments, 

“I’m in. I will pick you up just text me the time.” 

You now type a text to Kim Seokjin confirming him the meeting as he texts you the time. 

Just when you are about to go to Jimin’s inbox again, another unknown number sends you a text. 

Annoyance flares through your veins as you open it. It says: 

“See you soon, pornaddict. 

– Jeon Jungkook.” 

You groan at the choice of nick name, “Fuck you, Jeon!” 

You don’t understand many things. 

But currently, you don’t understand why this fine-as-fuck man is Jeon Jungkook’s manager slash assistant. 

He goes by the name Kim Seokjin. 

When he smiles at you, you melt. And to compose your flustered state you look at Jeon Jungkook - the (current) bane of your existence. 

He gives you a lopsided smile that obviously is fake, leaning down against the sofa seat absorbing as much sunlight as possible. 

You don’t give him any reaction.. Beside you, Jimin introduces himself to both of the men. 

“Miss Y/N. Thank you so much for coming.” Seokjin says in a pleasant tone. His voice sounds like honey dripping from a silver spoon. 

You nod, “Yeah. Alright, Mr. Kim, can I ask about the proposition you were talking about?”  

“Call me seokjin. And sure, let’s get into the important details.” he pauses to give you a sweet smile then opens his ipad and scrolls through something. Jungkook, too, scrolls through his phone so unamusedly as if he has been dragged here without his consent. 

“So, as you already know, the situation is out of hand now. We tried to take down the initial posts but the photos and videos spread like fire.” he speaks calmly. You nod along with him, Jimin too gives the older man his utmost attention. 

“On the other hand, our Jungkookie has been interacting with people, who are currently embroiled in controversy.” noted: Seokjin called Jungkook as Jungkookie and he is talking about Doona. 

You see Jungkook rolling his eyes. 

“If it wasn’t not for you, then he would be dragged down in the mess too.” Seokjin continues, “I know it’s not nice to be the center of unwanted attention and it is already causing you damage but… we need your help. Jungkook needs your help.” 

Jungkook makes a very unapproving sound from his seat. 

“What help? How can I even help you guys?” you are now extremely confused. Why would Jeon Jungkook, out of all people, need your help? 

“Date him.” Seokjin proposes. 

“What?” you and Jimin scream in unison. 

“Not for real. Calm down. I meant to say, if you pretend to be his girlfriend before the world, on social media, it will help Jungkookie in defying possible criticism and hatred.” Seokjin explains calmly. 

However, you are anything but calm. 

Whatever criticism Jeon Jungkook faces, it is simply his own problem. You have nothing to do with it. What is your benefit by being involved with him? 

As if reading your mind Seokjin now states, “in return, Jungkookie will sign an exclusive deal with your company for not only one but any kind of future collaboration your company wants with him, that too, at a discounted price.” he winks at you. 

Your jaw hits the floor. 

“Hyung! What the fuck! Where is this discount coming from?” Jungkook finally opens his mouth for the first time. 

“Cool. I’m in.” you reply in a heartbeat. Jimin clutches your wrist under the table. 

“Y/N! Aren’t you even going to think?” he whisper-yells in your ear. 

“There is nothing to think about. This is a very good deal, Jiminie. I will be hard-pressed to let such an opportunity go.” you whisper back. 

“But-” 

“I knew you would be an intelligent one” Seokjin cuts off your friend with a cherry tone, “I look forward to working with you” he extends his hand, you take in him with a shake. The shit-eating grin is lighting up your face. 

Jungkook sits there throwing daggers at you with his eyes. 

“It’s all because of you! You fucked things up!” Jungkook’s loud voice invades the serenity you were enjoying while waiting for Jimin to show up with his car. 

You turn your head in astonishment and give him wide eyes, “My ears must have gone cold. You are saying thanks and I am hearing something completely different.” 

“No! You are hearing it right, I said you fucked things up. Only if you didn’t show up at the club-”

“Then people would be dragging you down in twitter and instagram for fucking a school bully on camera.” you finish the sentence for him. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue and the smirks, “you know what? I can see how bad you are down for me. Is this all a part of your plan?” 

You smirk back, folding your hand in front of your chest, “FYI, your manager reached out to me to help you out. I am doing you a favor and you are returning it. Got it?” 

“Again.. Again that nasty attitude of yours.” Jungkook steps towards you, “you know what… I kinda like it.” 

He breathes directly on your face. 

The puff of his breath lands on the apple of your cheeks making a blush creep up without your notice.

“Make sure you save my number, girlfriend. See you tomorrow.” he leans down and whispers the last words in your ears and then disappears inside the parking lot. 

You stand there, catching your breath and questioning your decision for the first time since the proposition landed on your lap. 

But wait? What does he mean by ‘see you tomorrow’? 

Somebody must have pressed a replay button on the cassette of your life. 

If not then it’s certainly a deja vu, because the scene that’s unfolding is exactly the same as what happened last week. 

You are sitting inside the conference room, with Yoongi and Mrs. Lee and there is Jeon Jungkook sitting right across from you. 

The only thing that seems changed today is his attitude - which is a little more tamed. 

And oh… your clothes too. 

“This is so nice of you to come forward and ask for a meeting after whatever happened last time.” Mrs. Lee speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone. You wanna roll your eyes but decide against it. 

“Ah. no no. Miss Y/N is really competent at what she does. The credit goes to her. Even though things went south for the first time, we figured out that we actually are very compatible and working together will be beneficial for both of us. Right?” Jungkook directs his question towards you. 

“Uh- yeah. Hahahaha. Yeah.” you honestly don’t know what to reply. He is obviously faking it and you need to fake it too but Yoongi is sitting right beside you and he is staring at you and you are on the verge of losing your sanity. 

“I’m sorry if I am overstepping any boundaries but I can’t help being curious if the rumors are true?” Yoongi barges in. He looks at you and then Jungkook, expecting an answer or a reaction. 

Before you can say something - something you don’t even know what, Jungkook decides to answer. 

“Only time will tell.” he smiles at Yoongi. 

The amount of weird glances you are receiving from your colleagues is astronomical. 

For most of them it’s just eyeing you up and down and for some of the brave ones, it’s throwing impromptu comments like “oh, Y/N is a celeb now.” 

You want to punch them on their faces. 

Nevertheless, you don’t want a new trouble right when you manage to fight one crisis in exchange for your name and relationship status. 

You scroll through company social media accounts and start planning for all the new content that’s going to drop as soon as Jungkook’s done with the photoshoot. 

Your phone chimes with a notification. When take it in your hand to see it’s a text from the devil himself: 

“In front of the parking lot. Come in five minutes.” 

Your eyes close in frustration. You haven’t even stepped into the deal properly and he has started ordering you already. 

But what can you even do, you dug your own grave after all. 

It takes you seven minutes to reach the parking lot - obviously because you work on the sixteenth floor and the elevators don’t run on your will. 

When you find Jungkook waiting for you at the mentioned location with his bike, you find him kind of intriguing. 

It’s been long, embarrassingly long, since you have had a guy waiting for you. Even though you know it’s fake. You can turn blind eye for a moment and let yourself believe otherwise. 

“You are late.” he says with a pout. 

You lose your sanity only a little. 

“Sorry. The elevator didn’t listen to me when I asked it to run fast.” you reply. 

“Haha. very funny.” he replies animatedly then reaches for his backpack and plucks out a document folder. 

“What is this?” you question naturally. 

“The dating contract for our fake relationship.” he shrugs, extending the folder towards you, “Hyung asked you to go through it meticulously. You can add or reduce any term you don’t see fit. We will finalize it and announce our fake relationship officially once you are done. You have time till Friday.” he recites flatly, “also, you can’t tell anyone just yet. Got it?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever-”

“Y/N?” someone calls you and it’s not Jungkook. 

You whip your head to see Yoongi is standing a few feets away inside the parking space with keys in his hand. 

Your stomach feels funny at his unreadable expression. 

And then you feel a pair or lips pressing down on your cheeks. 

Jungkook kisses you before parting and saying, “Hasta la vista, baby”  

You freeze at your stop. You can see Yoongi’s eyes narrowing on you. Jungkook hops on his bike and leaves within a moment. 

You stand there, staring apologetically at the man you like and he sports an expression you can’t comprehend. 

“So.. the rumors were true, huh?” Yoongi finally voices after what feels like an eternity. 

“No- I-” also, you can’t tell anyone just yet. Got it? Jungkook’s words reel inside your head, “yes” you lie, crossing your fingers behind you. 

“Congratulations” Yoongi greets before flashing his gummy smile at you and then leaving you there to look for his car. 

“You really don’t care, do you?” you ask him. Even though you know he can’t hear you. There is a mixture of different emotions inside your gut and you are way too tired to name any of those.

@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms

read the full series right away on Patreon!! (Start from part 4)

Permanent Taglist:

Requested taglist:

@mageprincess7 @taekrve @ttanniett @elinaki92 @mysteriousgeminizone

[velvet-n-lace]

NSFW Alphabet (Lucifer Edition)

Series: Obey Me!

Genre: Smut/Headcanon

Word Count: 1.7k words

Pairing(s): Lucifer x Female MC

A/N: This has probably been done before, but I wanted to throw in my two cents. I made some for the other brothers too ;)

Original Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Lucifer is both sweet and caring. He would leave you a bit sore, but he knows how to soothe the pain and patch up some wounds. He would clean you up and then hold you in his arms so that the pleasure lingers. He is gentle and possessive when he traces your skin and leaves goosebumps behind.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

For Lucifer, it’s his arms and hands. Without them, he wouldn’t cuddle with you or perform some sadistic desires on your body. His favorite part of your body is your pretty face, specifically your lips and blushing cheeks. He loves tracing them with his thumb and kissing your lips passionately.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Lucifer cums huge loads, and he cums multiple times in every position. He especially loves watching you swallow it or when it leaks down your mouth like frosting. Sometimes, it’s a bit much and spills over your face, or it’s leaking out your quivering pussy. His cum is bittersweet; its saltiness reflects his personality~

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Y’know how Lucifer ties up his brothers to the ceiling as a punishment? He does that out of love, if you could believe it. As for you, though, it’s simply for his pleasure; sometimes, he punishes you for the littlest things just to see you bounded with rope, all helpless and vulnerable. He admires his work well with a wicked grin the more he sees you struggling to break free. The tighter the ropes are, the more you will be writhing in frustration; Lucifer lives for that.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Lucifer is very experienced, as expected, but he won’t tell you how he got these experiences. Obviously, he punishes his brothers and ties them to the ceiling; that explains his sadism, but the sex is a mystery. It’s off the charts, so maybe deep down inside, he’s just a built-in sex god.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Any position where he looks down at you with fear and pleasure in your eyes. Kneeling, giving him a blowjob, fucking you from behind, fucking you against the wall, or getting fucked beneath him give him his power. He also loves the positions where he restrains your limbs besides bouncing on his dick. Riding him could be its own form of pussy torture, but that’s only if you're getting punished.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, of course he is, but he can be very teasing. If he’s in the mood to fuck the brattiness out of you, he will push your buttons and then punish you for it. He knows the game, and you almost hate him for it.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s very well-groomed. You can tell he keeps himself clean for any occasion, even when he doesn't need to be. The carpet matches the drapes perfectly, and he keeps it well-shaven and trimmed.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Lucifer is so sweet; the affection he gives you practically seeps through your skin, and he knows that the more love he gives you, the more pleasure you will be drowning in. His touch is firm but laced with pride and passion, especially in the aftercare.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

When Luci started falling in love with you, there were times when he had to relieve himself in unexpected ways. Of course, he locks the door to his room and jacks himself off, but there have been days when jacking off in his office was more exciting, especially when you walked in and did something unintentionally sexy in front of him. Getting a boner in the middle of the day is always so bothersome for him since it’s so obvious. He would just imagine your mouth on his cock as he pumps himself hard. Having you so close yet unaware of his desires was once thrilling until he finally got to feel your body against his.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Bondage and S&M are his prominent kinks. If it wasn’t clear already, having power over you is what he lives for. If you are comfortable being his slave, you will be collared and bound in rope or leather. He won't be able to control himself when you tap into his praise kink, especially when you call him “Master” or “Daddy.”

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

His room and your room, but also maybe his office. Fucking you into his bedsheets is fun, and having you fucked over his desk is risky; but damn, he always fantasized about doing it to you. If there is an empty classroom, he might try that, but that’s even more risky.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Anything you do can give him some type of desire, especially if it’s unintentional, like bending over to pick up something or reaching for something across a desk. Acting like a brat would definitely have you over his knee for a spanking; the sharp sting on your ass is a constant reminder of your place.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Seeing you making pacts and flirting with his brothers made him slightly jealous. It wasn’t phasing him at first, but the more he wanted you, the more possessive he became. Sharing you is a massive no-no unless maybe Lord Diavolo was invited to your little twosome. Anything that causes him to lose any sense of power or control over you is not nearly as bad as sharing you, but he prefers being the one on top.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers receiving it from you. It’s probably one of the only times you could take charge as you worship his cock and have him writhing in pleasure before he shoots his load down your throat. His skills with giving are god-like. He would eat you out and finger your pussy, only to stop and leave you begging for him to go harder and faster.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s slow and sensual if you prefer vanilla sex; he doesn't mind if that is what you like; his cock would reach your cervix anyway. When you’ve gotten used to his length, it’ll feel like the first time with more flare. When he goes rough and fast, you will be climaxing with a scream.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t prefer them, but there are days when he wants you on his cock in the middle of class. When he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into an empty classroom, that means he’s desperate and knows he can get away with it. He’ll be fine; he knows what he wants and will leave you wanting more throughout the day.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

If you like it a little bit rough, Lucifer can bring in more challenging positions or some more intense BDSM. Fucking in the office or an empty classroom is a risk too, especially if you are loud.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Lucifer can go for a long time if there is enough preparation. Usually, he stops if you’ve had enough of it for one night; he wouldn’t want to destroy you completely. Sometimes, he’s a bit exhausted from the student council work and dealing with his brothers, so there are days when you have to be the one taking charge.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Lucifer owns a whip, for some reason~ He’s got some rope to tie you up with, and at times, he can just use anything around him to spank you with, like a leather binder or a ruler. If he owns anything else, it’s probably something he bought to use on you~

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He would tease you if you were being extra bratty. He’s a serious demon, so he would always maintain a professional demeanor if you two were in public. The teasing is subtle, like when he gives your thighs a light caress or when he sneaks his fingers under your skirt to rub your clit through your panties.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He knows how to set his volume low; his grunts and moans are like a whisper on your skin, making you shiver. His breathing is also soft and deep; it always puts you in a trance. Some of his moans can be guttural if you tighten around him or deepthroat him. You can always just make him loud ;)

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

He can let you take charge at times; he loves you so damn much that he can let you be the one ordering him around or pleasuring you~ It was a bit humiliating at first, but it didn't matter anymore; if anyone had to order him around, it either has to be Lord Diavolo or you. You are his Master, after all~

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Lucifer’s cock is huge. It’s veiny and long with a crimson tip. He can grip his shaft in his hands, and its veins add to its girth. It’s almost overwhelming to look at, and you can't help but wonder if Lucifer is proud to have such a massive tool. He is very much proud~

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is mildly high, but he knows how to control it as if it’s not there. He can never show it around anyone; otherwise, he reveals his weakness to you. If his brothers ever found out, he would be livid.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

When the aftercare is over, he will make sure you are comfortable in bed with him. He will fall asleep shortly after you fall asleep.

[aventurineswife]

Hihihihihi! May I request reader x Dan Heng? Growing up, reader has always been a "Friend to all is a friend to none" type of person. They technically have a lot of friends, but none of them are close to reader as they have more closer friends, and it's just always been like that. Reader has gotten used to it and just thinks that maybe they're the type of person that no one wants.

Cut to reader and Dan Heng having a relationship and in one moment where they were just hanging out, reader suddenly sheds tears because they just can not fathom the thought that someone would actually dedicate themselves, pour all their heart and soul to a relationship with reader, and just reader. Reader still couldn't believe all the love they're getting from Dan Heng and just cries.

This is just totally self-indulgent, thank you!!!!

Never Meant to Be Forgotten

Summary: You struggle with feelings of unworthiness, believing that you're the type of person who will never experience deep, lasting love. However, when you're in a relationship with Dan Heng, you begin to question everything you've believed about yourself. After a quiet moment together, you're overcome with emotion and burst into tears, unable to fathom the love Dan Heng offers you. Dan Heng reassures you with unwavering support and affection, helping you realize that you are deserving of love and that he will always be there for you.

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Angst, Comfort, Emotional Overload, Slow Burn, Romance, Fluff, Self-Doubt, Love Confession.

Warnings: Minor Angst, Tearjerking, Mild Emotional Themes, Self-Worth Struggles.

A/N: I'm so sorry if you're going through something like this 😕, I wish I could help somehow but I hope this fic cheers you up, only if it's a little! Remember, you're not alone and are always loved! 🫂💖

The Astral Express hummed quietly in the background as you and Dan Heng sat near the observation deck, overlooking the vast, starry expanse of space. The air was calm, and the stars glittered like tiny fragments of light scattered across the infinite darkness. It was moments like these that felt like the world was at peace.

Dan Heng, as usual, was quiet. He often preferred the silence, the serenity, to the noise of social interaction. You admired his ability to sit in stillness without feeling the need to fill the air with words. It was something you wished you could do, something that had always felt just out of reach for you.

Growing up, you'd been the kind of person who had many acquaintances but no one who truly understood you. You were always the "friend to all, friend to none" type, moving through groups without ever forming the deeper, meaningful connections others seemed to build so effortlessly. People liked you, sure, but no one ever stayed. You had convinced yourself that maybe that was just the way it was—that you weren't meant for those kinds of connections, that perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, no one really wanted to get too close.

But with Dan Heng, things felt different. At first, you had kept your distance, wary of letting someone get too close to your heart. He, too, had his own walls, and you both seemed to dance around each other in cautious curiosity. Slowly, though, something deeper began to form. The walls that both of you had carefully built up began to erode, bit by bit. He had started showing you sides of himself, not the stoic, distant façade that most people saw, but the subtle warmth that lay beneath.

And you? You had opened up to him in ways that felt... natural. It felt like you didn't have to hide your feelings anymore, like he saw you—not just as another person in his life, but as someone he genuinely cared about.

But even now, despite all the time that had passed, you couldn't quite wrap your mind around the love he gave you. How could he, a man who carried so much weight on his shoulders, want to devote himself to someone like you?

You were lost in thought, staring out at the stars when you felt a soft touch on your shoulder. Dan Heng’s voice broke through the silence, calm and steady, as usual.

"Are you alright?"

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile onto your face, but it faltered almost immediately. Dan Heng’s gaze softened, his eyes searching yours, as if he could see right through the mask you tried so hard to wear. You had always been good at hiding your emotions, but with him, it was different. His presence, his care, it made everything feel so real.

And in that moment, it hit you—he actually loved you. Not just the version of you that you showed to the world, not the facade you had put up all these years. He loved you—you, the person you had convinced yourself was never meant to be loved. The one who was never worthy of that kind of devotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them, and before you knew it, they were streaming down your face. The sudden rush of emotion overwhelmed you, and you found yourself unable to hold back the sobs.

Dan Heng didn’t say a word. Instead, he immediately pulled you closer, his arms enveloping you in the quietest, most reassuring embrace. The action spoke louder than any words could. His touch was gentle, as if he knew how fragile you felt in that moment, as if he understood the storm raging inside of you.

“You don’t have to explain,” he whispered, his voice soothing, a soft rumble against your ear. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his words broke something inside you, and you cried even harder, your heart aching with a mix of joy and disbelief. You had never felt so seen, so cherished.

“I don’t... I don’t deserve this,” you whispered through your tears, shaking your head as if to convince yourself of the words. “I’ve never had anyone care about me this much. Not like this... Not just for me.”

Dan Heng’s fingers gently cupped your chin, lifting your face so that your eyes met his. His gaze was unwavering, his expression soft yet firm.

“You deserve every ounce of it,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. “You’ve always deserved to be loved. And I—” He paused, his voice dipping with the weight of something unspoken, something deep. “I will always choose you, no matter what.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as you tried to process the truth in his words. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and for the first time in your life, you understood what it meant to be truly, unconditionally loved.

The thought was overwhelming, humbling, and for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to believe it.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Dan Heng didn’t need to respond with grand gestures or flowery words. He simply kissed your forehead, his arms tightening around you in a silent promise that this, the love between you, was real and unbreakable.

And for once, you believed it, too.