#I was supposed to be resting my head but! I could not stop thinking about this post

[dante-mightdie]

long awaited part three of lowselfesteem!reader and simon

part two

invisible clothes

that’s what you called them, the rags you don when you have to integrate with the general population but you would much rather not be noticed. clothing that is so bland that it isn’t nice enough catch an eye but not hideous enough to catch any negative attention

you had told simon about them once, when he called you out on wearing them every time you stepped out in public, including your dates with him. especially since he knew you had a very elaborate wardrobe with a tailored sense of style

clearly they aren’t invisible enough to hide you from johnny’s guilty eyes from across the store aisle. you sigh when he comes up to you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. he shifts uncomfortably on his feet

“I know ye probably hate ma guts, lass but ye should ken that simon shut down all of that bet talk after your first date. Ah just bring et up to annoy ‘im.” johnny says, with a nervous chuckles at the end. you don’t laugh alongside him

“okay, fair enough. look, he’s miserable without ye! he comes to the pub just to get pished and mope about how he fucked it all up with ye.” johnny continues, a pleading look in his eyes, “he’s supposed to he coming by to drop off some things of yours tomorrow. just hear him out, please, lass.”

you roll your eyes at him, continuing to grab what you need from the shelves in front of you. not even bothering to look him in the eyes when you finally begin to speak

"why should I? why am I always expected to think of other people even when they hurt me? you and simon didn't think about me or my feelings when you made your stupid bet. neither of you stopped to consider that I was just a person who simply wanted to be left alone." you say with a scoff, "he'll be lucky if I don't slam the door in his face."

johnny shifts on his feet, looking down at the floor since he feels too uncomfortable to look directly at you, "fair enough. take care've yerself, hen."

you bite back tears as you watch him skulk off in the corner of your eye. you stand there for a few more minutes, staring at the stacked shelves in front of you to distract you from the war raging inside of your head

-

it's late at night, nearly midnight, when there's a knock at your door. you let out a sigh, already knowing who was disturbing your doomscrolling at this hour. and when you open the door, you see him. you’re brooding prick of an ex-boyfriend. he at least has the decency to look guilty, like a dog caught ripping up the couch cushions

except he wasn’t a dog, he was the love of your life. and your heart isn’t so easily replaced like a cushion. though he definitely treated it like somewhere to rest his head

“hey.”

you scoff, you’re not sure why. there isn’t anything inherently wrong with what he said but it still annoyed you. he annoyed you. with his stupid stormy eyes and his stupid jokes and freckled shoulders that you used to connect like dots late at night

“just give me my stuff and go, simon. don’t have time for this bullshit.”

he doesn’t flinch. he saw that hit coming, and sometimes you gotta let them swing at you especially when you know that you deserve much worse

the exchange is quick, a box with small memories passed over to you. a couple items of clothing, a book and some toiletries. before you can slam the door in his face, he jams his heavy boot into it

“wait… love, I… there’s somethin’ else. I never gave it to you but it’s yours. got it for you and I’ll never give it to anyone else.”

the glare you give him only falters when he places a small velvet box in your hand, he pauses the speech you can definitely feel coming on. looking at you expectantly to open it. you do, waiting for him to laugh at you when you find nothing in there. ridicule you for even thinking he would consider making you his wife

but all he does it look on solemn, the beautiful ring twinkling as a devastating reminder of what could have been

“I kno’ I ‘ave no right to ask. I wouldn’t insult you like tha’ lovie. you can hate me, I deserve it. but you don’t deserve it. I won’t let you hurt yourself over what I did. you deserve to know the real extent of how bad I fucked up. maybe it’ll help to look at tha’ ring and know that I’ll spend the rest of my life having to know I lost the woman who should be my wife.”

there’s no chance to respond, not like you’d know what to say anyway,

“I’m sorry.”

and then he’s gone.

[chris-prank]

Hello

I really like your Atlas and your Jacce

Can you tell me how they would react/take care of Reader if they woke up/showed up for service one day and Reader was sick and unable to play?

Hi to you fellow yandere enjoyers! 😆 I hope my answer was worth the wait!

The only thing I could think about for “service” was like servicing for spicy time? I’m really sorry if that’s not what you meant! (Sometimes my english is no englishing)

CW: Suggestive content and dubious consent

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Jacce crawled under the covers, ready to put his mouth to good use. But as he was pulling on the rim of your underwear, his action was put on halt by a hoarse voice muffled by the piece of fabric over him. Then a light shined onto his face, making his eyes squint. Once his sight adjusted and you came into view, the man could clearly see the sickly color of your skin.

“I got sick overnight…” A well placed cough followed suit, proving your point.

Jacce gave you an apologetic frown, “I can still do it i-if you want! I don’t care about getting sick if it’s your germs.” As he said it he pressed a chaste kiss against your inner thighs and kept up eye contact.

You grimaced at his words and pushed his head away from between your legs. The man whined at the sudden physical rejection, giving you puppy eyes. How could he say something so cute yet disgusting at the same time?!

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that! Plus I’m not in the mood anymore.” You huffed.

“S-sorry!”

And so, for the rest of the day, you were doted on by your lover, from breakfast in bed to going out to buy all the medicines you needed. Despite your warnings earlier, it still didn’t stop Jacce from stealing you quick kisses every now and then.

Who could have guessed that he got sick three days later.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Atlas’s had everything prepared to a tee. Rose petals leading to your bedroom, a cute revealing outfit on his back, candles to set the mood, etc. Sure you didn’t ask for all of that, but he wanted to make it a memorable night for you. He was showing the extent of his love for you after all. Human courtship was supposed to be this extra… right?

Before the sound of a fist knocking at the door could be heard, the android was already set in position, his sensors having heard your footsteps already from an inhuman distance. He had knelt down, his pale hands resting on each of his exposed thighs. He could feel a slight glitch of anticipation pass through his vision as the door creaked open. Atlas readied himself for your surprise and excited reaction.

As you saw the display before you, you were indeed surprised at first, but it followed suit with a face full of guilt.

“Oh Atlas… ”

Your partner rose up in an instant, grabbing your wrist and bringing his other hand to your forehead. In truth, he didn’t have to do all that, since he had a functionality that allowed him to know the living organism’s body temperature. He still did it every time anyway because it made him feel closer to you. He swore that this morning your metabolism seemed fine and yet. He felt as if he should have been more efficient to prevent your health from ending up in this state. Human afflictions were such an unpredictable thing and he hated it.

“Don’t mind the setup, I’ll take down everything.” He swiftly said.

As he backed away, Atlas could feel a warm overheating feeling all over his face and chest, but paid it no mind, surely it was just a reaction from his program to the sudden change of objective. He blew out all the candles laying around and collected them in the process. The heat seemed to spread across his cheeks as he glanced down at his skimpy clothes only to be met with your gaze once he lifted his head up.

“I’ll go change if I make you uncomfort—“

You grinned before he could finish.

“It’s not because I’m sick that I can’t enjoy a beautiful view. Come and relax with me, you can always clean up later, pretty boy.”

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I really hope this was what you were expecting!

[lila-lou]

✨Different✨

Summary: Loving Soldier Boy was never easy—but tonight, he’s just Ben. Stripped of bravado, weighed down by the world, he lets you see the cracks. In quiet touches and unspoken confessions, he leans into you, searching for something he’s not sure he deserves. And for once, he lets himself rest—just with you.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: FLUFF

Word Count: 3245

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

You didn’t think tonight would turn out like this. Not that dating Soldier Boy ever came with a sense of predictability, but this… this was something you hadn’t expected.

When he walked into your apartment, it was the same as usual—kicking the door shut with his boot, leaving streaks of dirt on the rug you’d told him a dozen times not to ruin. His shield, that ever-present symbol of his ego, clattered against the wall where he left it leaning. He looked exhausted, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat, his movements slower, heavier than you were used to.

“Rough day?”, you asked, already heading to grab him a beer from the fridge. It was part of the routine now. He’d come in, drop some snarky comment about how the world sucked, down half the beer in one go, and grumble until he either passed out or decided he wanted you in bed.

But today, he didn’t answer. When you turned around, beer in hand, he was just standing there, watching you.

There was something in his eyes—something you hadn’t seen before. He looked… unsure. And Soldier Boy wasn’t someone who did “unsure”. He was all swagger and bravado, always walking into a room like he owned it. But now? He looked smaller somehow, like the weight of the day—or maybe the weight of being him—was too much to carry.

“You good?”, you asked, your voice softer this time. Setting the beer on the counter, you stepped closer, unsure of what to say. He didn’t reach for it. Instead, he let out a long, heavy sigh and dropped onto the couch, his head falling back against the cushion.

“Yeah”, he muttered, though it didn’t sound convincing. “Just… tired”.

That was new. He never admitted to being tired. Not the Soldier Boy you knew. He was supposed to be bulletproof, invincible—at least, that’s how he saw himself. But tonight, it felt like all that armor he wore—literal and figurative—was starting to crack.

You sat down beside him cautiously, unsure if he’d push you away. He didn’t even glance at you, just stared at the ceiling like it might offer him some kind of answer. When his hand brushed against yours, it wasn’t the cocky, teasing touch you were used to. It was hesitant. Tentative.

“Ben?”, you asked quietly. “What’s going on?”.

His jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes, like he was fighting something inside himself. “I just—”. He stopped, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Forget it”.

You didn’t let him off the hook that easily. “Talk to me”, you urged, resting your hand gently on his arm. “What do you need?”.

His eyes opened, and when they met yours, they weren’t the arrogant, confident eyes you were used to. There was something raw there, something that made your chest tighten. For a second, you thought he’d get up and leave, maybe throw out some asshole comment to deflect like he always did when things got too real. But he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His voice was so quiet you almost didn’t catch it when he said, “I just need… you. Okay?”.

It wasn’t a demand, like you’d come to expect from him. It wasn’t gruff or commanding. It was soft. Almost pleading.

You blinked, caught off guard. This wasn’t the Soldier Boy you knew—the man who had to be in control of everything, who couldn’t let anyone else take charge. But tonight, something was different. He was different. And even if he’d never say the words out loud, you could see it in the way his hand reached for yours again, the way he clung to it like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

He didn’t want to be the unbreakable superhero right now. He didn’t want to fight, argue, or take the lead. Tonight, he just wanted to let go.

He wanted you.

For a moment, you didn’t move. You weren’t sure how to react—this wasn’t the man you’d grown used to, the one who always walked through life with an unshakable ego. But as you looked at him now, slumped forward, waiting for your response like he didn’t know what to expect, you realized how fragile he seemed beneath it all.

“Okay”, you murmured, your voice steady despite the odd knot forming in your chest.

His shoulders eased, just slightly, like that single word was enough to let him breathe again. You reached out, resting your hand gently against his back. He didn’t flinch or shrug you off, and you could feel the tension knotted there, his muscles taut beneath your fingers.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that—his head bowed, your hand resting on his back, a quiet stillness settling over the room. You could feel the weight of the day on him, not sadness exactly, but something heavier. He wasn’t broken, but he was worn, like he was just… done. Done with all of it.

“Wanna take a shower?”, you murmured, your lips brushing against his bicep. It was a small gesture, but one you knew he wouldn’t resist. The tension in his shoulders shifted at your words, and though he didn’t respond right away, you could tell he was considering it.

Finally, he let out a low hum, more a grunt than an answer. “Yeah”, he said, his voice rough but softer than you expected.

You stood first, tugging lightly at his arm until he followed. He didn’t protest, letting you lead him through the familiar path to the bathroom. It wasn’t like him to give up control so easily—normally, he’d be making some quip about how lucky you were to get him out of his clothes, or joking about how he didn’t need to wash off because “dirt doesn’t stick to perfection”. But tonight, there was none of that. Just quiet compliance, a rare and fragile thing.

The bathroom light was soft, warm, and it reflected in his tired eyes as you turned the shower on. Steam began to rise, curling in the air, and you glanced over at him as he leaned against the sink, his arms crossed, watching you. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t putting on a show. He was just… waiting.

“You need help, big guy?”, you teased gently, trying to lighten the mood.

He huffed, the faintest flicker of his usual smirk appearing for just a second. “I’m not that far gone”, he muttered, but there was no edge to his voice.

Still, you stepped closer, your fingers reaching for the heavy buckle of his supe suit. It was scratched and battered, the once-pristine metal dulled by years of wear and tear. As you started to undo it, you could feel his eyes on you—not in the usual cocky, flirtatious way, but softer, more curious, like he was trying to understand why you were doing this for him.

The belt clicked open, and you carefully slid it free, letting it drop to the floor with a dull thud. Your hands moved to the fastening of his suit, your fingers deft as you worked it loose. The fabric was thick, stiff with grime and the scent of smoke and sweat lingering in the material. It was a stark reminder of what his life was—a never-ending cycle of fights, missions, and expectations.

“You’re quiet”, you murmured as you worked, glancing up at him.

“Just… tired”, he admitted, his voice low, barely above a whisper. His gaze softened, and for a moment, he almost looked like he might say something more. But then he fell silent again, letting you continue without interruption.

As the top of his suit came loose, you slid it down his arms, revealing his broad chest and the scars that marked his skin. They told the story of a man who had been through hell and back—a story he rarely let anyone see. Your eyes lingered on a particularly deep scar over his ribs, one you’d traced with your fingers before in quieter moments.

You didn’t say anything about it now. You knew better.

“You’re a mess”, you teased gently, trying to bring some levity to the moment. Your hand brushed over his chest briefly, more out of instinct than anything else, and you felt the way he leaned into the touch—subtle, but there.

“Yeah, well”, he muttered, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “You knew what you were signing up for”.

That was more like him, and the familiar quip made you smile. “Sure did”, you said, pulling the rest of his suit down until it pooled at his feet. He stepped out of it without a word, standing before you naked now, the steam from the shower curling around his frame.

For a moment, you just looked at him. Right now, he was just Ben, tired and worn, standing in your bathroom like he didn’t know what to do next.

“Come on”, you said softly, taking his hand and guiding him toward the shower.

The water hit him first, soaking his hair and trailing down his body, washing away the grime and tension he’d carried in with him. He tilted his head back under the spray, his eyes closing as he let out a low, contented sigh.

You stepped in with him, the warmth of the water cascading over both of you. His hands found your waist instinctively, steadying himself more than anything else, and you stayed close, your fingers running gently along his arms, his chest, wherever you felt he needed the comfort.

The water poured over both of you, the steady rhythm of the droplets filling the silence. He wasn’t saying much—wasn’t saying anything, really—but his hands lingered at your waist, not gripping, just holding. Like he needed to know you were there, solid and steady.

Eventually, as the steam enveloped you both, you felt him shift slightly. His shoulders sagged, and then, slowly, his head dipped forward until it came to rest against your collarbone. The unexpected weight of it was grounding, and you instinctively raised your hand, threading your fingers through his damp hair.

You let him stay there.

You didn’t say anything—didn’t tease him about the rare vulnerability or push him to talk. You just let him be, standing in the warmth of the shower, your hand gently stroking through his hair, the other tracing soft patterns along his back.

His breathing slowed against you, the rise and fall of his chest evening out. The tension he carried, the tight coil of pressure always wound so deeply inside him, seemed to ease just a little. He wasn’t completely relaxed—he never could be—but this was close enough.

After a while, he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin, “You’re… too good at this”.

You smiled faintly, letting out a soft chuckle. “At what?”.

“Letting me… I don’t know”. He paused, shifting slightly but not pulling away. “Letting me stop. Even just for a second”.

Your hand stilled in his hair for a moment before continuing. “You don’t always have to keep moving, Ben”, you said softly. “You don’t always have to be… that guy. You can just be you with me”.

He didn’t respond right away, but you felt the way his arms tightened slightly around your waist. It wasn’t a thank you, not in words. Soldier Boy didn’t do thank yous. But it was enough.

“I don’t know who the hell ‘me’ even is anymore”, he said after a long pause, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it.

You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, your lips lingering there. “Then let’s figure it out together”.

For the first time that night, you felt him exhale fully, the kind of breath that carried the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. His head stayed resting against you, the water continuing to wash over both of you as the world outside faded further and further away.

And for now, that was enough.

After the shower, the two of you moved quietly through the motions of getting ready for bed. Ben didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to. The air between you was calm, steady, the kind of quiet that spoke more than words could.

When he finally slid into bed beside you, you expected him to turn back into the Soldier Boy you knew, trying to get you tangled up beneath him. But tonight was different.

He simply lay back, his body sinking into the mattress like he was letting himself rest for the first time in years. He turned onto his side, his back to you, and for a moment, you just stared at him, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t like him to pull away, and yet here he was, retreating in a way that didn’t feel like rejection, but something else entirely.

You scooted closer, the mattress shifting under your weight as you moved toward him. Your hand reached out tentatively at first, brushing over his back lightly, testing the waters. His body was warm under your touch, his muscles taut but not as tense as they’d been earlier.

When he didn’t pull away, you let your hand settle more firmly, wrapping your arm around his torso. He let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh at the contact, his shoulders relaxing just a little more.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his back, just between his shoulder blades. The faint salt of his skin mingled with the lingering scent of soap from the shower, grounding you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

His hand moved, covering yours where it rested against his chest. The warmth of his palm settled over your fingers, holding them in place like he needed the reassurance of your touch. Neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it felt heavy with meaning, with emotions too raw to voice.

After a while, though, you felt him shift. Slowly, he turned in your arms, rolling onto his back and then to his side, facing you. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, like he was gathering the courage for something.

Your breath hitched slightly as his gaze locked onto yours. Those green eyes, usually sharp and full of mischief or arrogance, were softer now, vulnerable in a way that made your chest tighten. You bit your lip instinctively, unsure of what he was searching for as his eyes traced your face.

Your hand, still resting on his chest, moved on its own accord, brushing upward to the scruff of his beard. Your fingertips traced the coarse texture, lingering along his jawline, and you couldn’t help but let a small, almost shy smile tug at your lips.

“What?”, you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze shifted, moving from your eyes to your lips and back again, like he was debating something in his head. His hand lifted, resting lightly against your side, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt.

“You”, he finally murmured, the word low and rough. “You’re just… different”.

“Different how?”, you asked, your fingers still absently stroking along his beard.

His lips twitched faintly, like he was fighting a smile. “Not like anyone else”, he said. “You don’t… expect anything from me. You don’t need me to be anything I’m not”.

You tilted your head slightly, your smile softening. “Maybe because I like who you are. Not who the world thinks you have to be”.

For a moment, he just stared at you like he didn’t know how to respond. Then, unexpectedly, his hand moved, brushing over yours where it still rested against his beard. He caught your fingers lightly, holding them for a moment before pressing them to his lips in a gesture so tender it made your heart ache.

“You make it sound so fucking simple”, he said, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“Maybe it is”, you whispered back.

He didn’t say anything else, but the way his hand lingered against yours, the way his gaze stayed locked on yours as if he was afraid to look away, spoke volumes.

For a man who had always carried the world on his shoulders, tonight he let himself lean on you.

His gaze softened even more as you whispered the words, “I love you, Ben”, against his lips, the confession slipping out like it had been waiting there all along. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.

Then you kissed him, gentle and unhurried, your lips brushing against his like you were sealing the words between you. He didn’t respond at first, almost frozen, but then his hand tightened against your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer. The kiss wasn’t demanding or hungry; it was tender, the kind of intimacy that came with trust.

When you pulled back, you kept your eyes on his, watching for his reaction. For once, he wasn’t guarded. He wasn’t hiding behind his usual cocky smirk or sarcastic quip. Instead, he just stared at you, something unreadable flickering in his green eyes.

“You don’t have to say it back”, you whispered, sensing the hesitation in him. “I just wanted you to know”.

He let out a exhale, his free hand coming up to rest on your cheek. His thumb brushed along your skin, and you could feel the tension in him, the struggle between the man he was and the man he wanted to be with you.

“I don’t deserve you”, he muttered, his voice barely audible.

“Maybe not”, you teased softly, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “But I love you anyway”.

That drew a quiet laugh from him, and you felt his chest shake slightly beneath your hand. He didn’t say anything else, but the way he held you, his arms tightening around you as you shifted to rest your head against his chest, told you everything you needed to know.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear was calming, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a quiet peace. His hand stayed at your waist, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles against your skin, grounding you both in the moment.

As sleep began to tug at the edges of your mind, you heard him murmur something, so low you almost missed it.

“Love you too, doll”.

Your lips curved into a sleepy smile, but you didn’t respond, letting his words settle in the quiet between you. The world outside didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the man holding you, the man who, for the first time, was letting himself be held.

And in his arms, you drifted off, the soft sound of his breathing the last thing you heard before sleep claimed you.

———————————

A/N: Well, this was something else. Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87

[bweeeb]

SHE

Summary: When Mattheo and Theodore really fill you up for the first time they guarantee that you will never get hurt.

warnings: English is not my first language. It's very short, nothing special. Maybe a start to something if you want.

Maybe you were the problem.You definitely weren’t the problem.But what if you were?For an entire month, you hadn’t dared to lower your head, but every time you entered your dormitory or prepared to step into a crowded room, the air emptied from your chest.You felt like you were walking in circles—this was supposed to be a better year.

By the Gods, every time your parents asked in letters about new friends and school activities, you bit your cheek so hard that you tasted blood, just to gather the courage to lie to them.You had left Ilvermorny because of the exclusion the girls always subjected you to. Your only friend had been transferred, leaving you alone with the terrifying feeling of never having a moment of peace in that place.Hogwarts was supposed to be a good school, a place where you could make new friends and have fewer blackmailers around. And yet, two months later, there you were, your books thrown to the ground along with a frog conjured by one of the Slytherins.— Hahaha, wow, thanks, that was really funny. You muttered with no emotion in your voice as you knelt down, using one of your books to swat away the slimy frog and gather the rest of your things.

— Are you complaining, you freak? I could shut that little mouth of yours right in the position you're in. One of them said, stepping closer and gripping your hair tightly, making your eyes water from the pain.

— She’s not even that ugly. I think I could actually get hard looking at her like this.Another one of them said, laughing along with the others.

— Fuck off, stop touching me.

You growled, feeling the tears spill involuntarily down your cheeks.— I can’t believe you’re a Slytherin—you’re a disgrace, that’s what you are.

Voices in the corridor started echoing closer.

— Hey, what the fuck is going on here?The Italian accent gave away Theodore Nott from his very first word.

— Just stay out of this, man.Another voice, and it was obvious that Mattheo Riddle was the one with the rough, uninterested tone.

— Dude, she’s crying.Your whimpers were loud

—there was no way to deny it.

— Some cry, some scream with joy, I don’t decide that.Mattheo said, rolling his eyes.

— Come on, Mattheo, stop being an asshole.

— Shit. Hey, girl, are you okay?Mattheo stepped into the corridor and saw the malicious faces of the three Slytherin boys. But if it had been just any guys, Mattheo might not have immediately known something was wrong. But with that trio, something was always wrong.

— Fuck.

Riddle muttered, approaching with Theodore at his side in long strides. — You idiots, let her go.

— Stay out of this, Nott.

— So that means I can punch you, then.Before even getting a response, Mattheo punched the guy holding you hard, knocking him to the ground.

— What were you planning, huh?Nott asked, threatening the other two boys, who started shaking their heads while Mattheo kept hitting the one on the floor.

— N-nothing.

— W-we swear, w-we don’t want a-anything to do with that bitch.

As soon as those words left one of their mouths, Theo clicked his tongue against his teeth and punched the guy in the face, giving enough time for the other one to run away.

— Don’t. Talk. About. Her. Like. That.

He said, pausing between words as he increased the force of his punches.

— You and your friends better not even look in her direction, do you understand me?Theo heard Mattheo say to the other guy, gripping the bloodied collar of his shirt. As soon as the two ran off, battered and bruised, both boys turned their gaze to you—fragile, wide-eyed, clutching your books tightly.

— Thank you. You whispered, embarrassed, and quickly got up from the floor, wanting to get away from there as fast as possible. Then, you disappeared down the corridor, still under the watchful eyes of a very intrigued Theo and Mattheo.

— Dude, how many times do you think this happens?

— I’ve seen her around once. Should’ve paid more attention. She’s cute.

— No one fucking touches her.

— Not anymore.

[jd-loves-fiction]

Hey there! I might have an oddly specific request, but like. I am craving a trope but I am too lazy to write anything myself. Feel free to not accept this :"D

Could you write maybe like a *micro* oneshot about Boothill finding his past lover (from before his planet got nuked), but here's the thing, the lover did an ftm transition, so Boothill may have not realised at first.

And secondly, there is a child. Boothill's, but he had no idea.

The circumstances under what they reconnect is up to you. Wether it's fluff or angst, also.

Thank you in advance, cool writer person!<3

🌑felt that first part😭 ALSO this idea is so good rAAAH I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IIITT (idk if this sucks but i hope i did this wonderful idea justice my dear, i poured all my love into this ❤️)

ALSO ALSO listened to 'Would you fall in love with me again' on loop writing this cuz the vibes are immaculate :)

Warnings: Spoilers for Boothill's backstory, mention of reader pre-transition as 'her' once but by male descriptors everwhere else, I have no experience writing ftm reader's so forgive my ignorance and let me know if I did good if you can 🥺

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

The saloon is lively, crowded, not Boothill’s usual scene but fate or whatever sorry god is in charge of his path brought him here. His mission is complete and he’s exhausted – so out drinking he goes, even though he can barely feel the drink’s effects anymore. He supposes it must be the principle of the thing, a sort of tradition that helps him not lose his mind along the way.

Boothill scans the room by instinct, seeing dancing couples fill the entire room up to the corners – some slowly, some so fast it’s as if the universe is about to implode. A flash of a memory stings at the back of his brain, but he ignores it.

“Uhm! Mister!” Chirps a high pitched voice from below, clearly directed at himself. Looking down he spots a chubby-faced little girl, at which he raises a brow. Why a girl her age would ever think to approach him of all people in the saloon, he cannot imagine.

“Can you help me up, please? I wanna ask for some water,” she asks, polite but determined.

“Oh, well of course little lady!” He responds, gently holding her up and placing her onto the stool, once the cloud of nostalgia is gone from before his eyes. She just looks so familiar… The particular shade of brown of her eyes–

“Thank you mister!” The girl says brightly, sitting all cute and proper as Boothill waves the barkeep over, “It’s no trouble. Whatcha doin’ here, anyway? Y’ain’t alone, right?”

“Oh no mister, I’m here with my papa!” She replies cheerfully, pointing to the center of the room where the most people gather. Between swaying bodies he finds who she points at – twirling a giggling old lady is who Boothill suspects is the girl’s ‘papa’.

The cyborg cowboy no longer has a heart, nor a chest really, but it feels as if it stops in that moment. You don't spot him yet, lost as you are in your own little world, twirling around as sweat builds at your hairline.

But to Boothill everyone else fades as the pieces click into place – a grassfield beneath a starry sky, the love of his life before him, his flesh and bone hands around her blushing face… your face… no matter how you’ve changed, it’s you, he’d recognize you anywhere.

He must be seeing ghosts, surely. The girl’s father must just look like you, that’s it, it has to be, you’re dead… you have to be.

But Boothill knows in his soul that it is. You’re right there, dancing without a care in the world, changed and yet the same.

“Mister?” The little girl to him again, grasping at one of his sleeves and he turns. Her eyes, that particular shade of brown… it’s his, from when he was still flesh and blood. His head hurts. He feels drunk and crazy, maybe he should stop drinking after missions.

“There you are! You should’ve told me you wanted to rest,” You lightheartedly tell the girl, panting as you wipe sweat from your brow. From this close he’s sure it’s you, but Boothill still feels a little crazy for his thoughts. “Made a friend–?!”

The moment your eyes meet his, Boothill is finally sure it’s you. And he can tell you remember him too. Both of you seem stuck in time, gazing at each other like you’ve seen a ghost, which maybe you have, all things considered. The both of you should be dead.

Your mouth opens to speak but no words come out and you’re aching for a glass of water of your own. He’s here, alive and…

“You’ve… changed.” Boothill says lamely – so many things he wants to say, things he should’ve said long ago, things he would’ve said if he knew you were alive all this time.

“S-So have you!” Your voice cracks as you gawk at him, “You’re all… metal?”

Boothill chuckles, nerves eased by the familiarity that settles over the two of you – seems you haven't changed where it counts. “Yeah… it’s a long story.”

“Well, all I have is time.” He can tell you’re still upset with him, perhaps you will be for a while– heck! He’s upset with himself! He should’ve gone back for you, checked, double checked, triple checked!

“Just tell me one thing first;” The cyborg asks, watching as the girl sprints off towards who he assumes is a friend of hers, “Is she…” he points at himself.

“... Yeah. Her name’s Julia.” You tell him, sitting where she was, shoulders still tense as you watch him closely. He’s still as handsome as always, more rugged perhaps, more tired and grim, but the sight of his face still makes your heart stutter with affection. 

Boothill sighs heavily at the information, like the air’s been punched from his lungs, slumping over the bar and covering his eyes. You, alone as your planet burned while he went off to punish the ones who did it, was a heartbreaking enough picture to paint, but with a child? His child?

If they hadn't taken his tear ducts, he’d be filling the saloon up to the ceiling with his tears.

“Hey now, you can cry about it later, ok?” You say awkwardly, knowing you might start crying too if he does. 

He does as you ask, finally raising his head to look at you properly. You’re as beautiful as he remembers, of course you are. You could never stop looking so unfairly stunning to him, never.

Squirming in place as his cybernetic lock onto you, you feel the need to fill the empty space between you – as much as you wish to act like nothing had changed, a lot had, “How did you… recognize me?”

He finds it to be an odd question, of course he’d recognize you, yours is the only face he seems when he closes his eyes, haunting the few dreams he does have like a siren’s song beckoning him to linger within the memories of a better life before he became what he is now, “Y’haven’t changed that much.”

You blink at him, suddenly self-conscious, “... haven't I?”

Oh no, you look upset. He should’ve just said what he was thinking instead of whatever that was, “I– I didn't mean it like– I mean, you look great! Fudge I–”

You’re laughing, open and bright and lovely. Laughing at him no doubt, but laughing, “W-what– why do you– Fudge?”

“Ah, well, that’s part of that long story I told ya’bout.” He replies bashfully, because yeah, it would be strange to hear that coming out of his mouth to you.

Catching your breath and wiping the tears from your eyes, you smile fondly at the cowboy, “Sounds to me like we have some catching up to do.”

The farm boy in him wishes still that nothing had changed, that he could wake up from his dream and lay in the field beneath the stars again, hold you against his warm chest like always and have no IPC blood caked under his metaphorical nails, only dirt and sand from a hard day’s work. But the galaxy ranger he is now likes it better this way – change is inevitable and all things considered, this is one of the more fortunate outcomes of your story. 

You’ve both changed, but not where really it counts.

“That we do, sweetheart.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Home: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @mckinleysbones @totalstitchlover19 @angelofthetrenchcoats

Companion piece to:

Box Breathing - Eddie's been struggling since Christopher left.

Always - You make a promise to Eddie.

Real - Eddie tells you he wants something real.

A Future With You - Eddie makes a realisation during a one on one game of basketball.

Cash - Eddie discovers your secret Instagram profile.

Snake - You receieve a surprise gift from your ex at Halloween.

Midnight - Eddie makes you a promise.

Cherry Lipstick - Eddie gets better insight into you during a social event.

Bang - Eddie's new year starts with a bang.

Lifetime (NSFW) - One night with you makes Eddie realise he wants a life time.

El Paso - Eddie is forced to make a decision that hurts you both.

Possibilities - Eddie thinks about what might have been.

Welcome Back - Eddie discovers the reason you've been out of contact.

You’re exhausted.

Eddie can see that the minute you step out of the 115. Your shoulders are sagging as if the weight of the heavy kitbag is dragging you down, your head bowed so that your hair falls across your features, masking them from his view. His heart rate accelerates just a little as he steps towards you, his hand reaching for your bag.

“Let me help.” He says softly and you tilt your face up to meet his gaze.

Fuck you’re beautiful. It doesn’t matter that you’re coming off back to back 24 hour shifts, those eyes of yours with their fathomless depths, they ruin him every single time.

You don’t speak as he slings the bag over his shoulder, you simply tuck your hands into the pockets of your jacket as the two of you amble towards your car.

“Selena, I know I fucked up…” He says but you shake your head cutting him off.

“We don’t need to do this.” You say as you take the keys from your pocket and point them at the trunk of your car so that it opens. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“But I want to…” He says as he puts your bag into the back of the car and closes the hatch.

“And I don’t.” You assert, placing your hands on your hips. “I am exhausted Eddie, I’m coming off back to back 24 hour shifts, my back feels like it’s on fire and all I want to do it get into a shower and spend the next 12 hours sleeping. I don’t have the capacity right now to put up with your shit.”

“My shit?” He repeats, his dark eyebrows furrowing into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.” You say forcefully, jabbing your finger at him. “You feel guilty for ghosting me, well I absolve you of that. Now you can go back to your party and celebrate with your son and the rest of the 118.”

There’s such a bitterness in your tone, one that he knows comes from weeks of non-stop shifts, of giving up the one place you felt you had a family for a man who couldn’t be bothered to return your calls.

“Selena I didn’t ask you to take this job-”

“And you weren’t around to discuss it either.” You remind him, shoving your hands back into your pockets. “You need the stability of the 118 and I… well the rest doesn’t matter.”

Because you don’t matter, not in the grand scheme of things. That’s the message he’s given you, the doubt he’s sowed within you.

“You have no idea how much you matter to me.” He says, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, thumb tracing over that scar just underneath the hinge of your jaw. “How many nights I wished that things could have been different, that you were there lying beside me. Every moment away from you was torture, it’s still torture because I am in love with you Selena and the fact you’ve done all of this, it makes me think that you’re in love with me too and I am sorry I made you feel that you were less. I’m sorry I-”

You kiss him then and Christ, there has never been anything as perfect as the sensation of you pressed against him, your fingers threading through his hair, your mouth claiming his. He’s missed this, missed you…

He whines when you draw away, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you within his proximity as his nose trails lightly over yours.

“You’re my home Selena.” He whispers against your lips. “You always have been and you always will be.”

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[gingerteafairy]

hi!! , um I have an idea for an Dave Lizewski!! so the reader is popular and her and her friends bet for the reader to make Dave fall inlove with them but the reader falls for Dave while doing the bet!! (I don’t know but I had this idea and I hope you like it 😅)

at first, i was like "what the hell am i supposed to write?" and it turned to a full three chapters fic. hope you like it, i really loved writing this. @ikkyfics and golden hour by jvke helped me a lot.

𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

𝟭. 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲

You bet Dave will fall for you, but oops—guess who’s the one falling now? tags n warnings: dave lizewski x fem!reader, fluff, hyperfeminine!reader, language, suggestive, violence. word count: 6.8k!! masterlist part two

The cafeteria was buzzing with the noise of conversations and laughter echoing between the tables, a comfortable chaos that made any secret conversation quiet enough. Amidst this turmoil, you and your friends were immersed in your favorite pastime: hear me out. The game was simple—name an unlikely person and argue why they could be a love interest. The fun was in the absurdity of the choices, and the best part? No one would ever suspect that the most popular girls in school spent their time fantasizing about nerds, weirdos, or teachers.

“Okay, okay. Hear me out,” Katie started, her laugh escaping even before revealing the name. You, knowing well the danger, swallowed the rest of your juice to avoid a disaster. “Professor Melvin, history.”

The shock was immediate. “Oh my God, ew, Katie!” Erika scrunched up her nose as if she had smelled something rotten, still laughing at the atrocity of the idea. “That man probably has fossilized snacks in his beard since the dinosaur era.”

“But think about it,” Katie insisted, winking mischievously. “He wouldn’t even need to carry a purse. My gloss would fit perfectly in there.”

Erika shoved her shoulder, both laughing as you shook your head in disbelief. “Okay, now seriously. Listen up.” Erika smoothed down her uniform, adopting a thoughtful expression as she theatrically touched her chin. “Jeremy, from the drama club.”

The reaction was instant.

“No!” You all yelled in unison, throwing your hands up and bursting into laughter. Your body swayed with the contagious laughter of the group.

“Erika, he’s practically a zombie,” you argued, still laughing. “He acts like a potato and is only there because he’s the director’s son.”

“I like that dead fish look. It’s sexy.” Erika squinted her eyes, biting her lip in an exaggeratedly sensual gesture that made you laugh even more. You waited for the laughter to die down a little before leaning in on the table, lowering your voice intentionally to add a dramatic touch.

“Okay. Hear me out,” you began, glancing around quickly. “Dave Lizewski, from the school newspaper.”

Silence.

Your friends exchanged glances as if they had just heard the most absurd thing in the world.

“What?” Katie raised her eyebrows, confusion clear on her face. “Isn’t he gay?” She covered her mouth with her hand, as if sharing a forbidden secret.

“I don’t know. They said they caught him spying on girls in gym class,” Erika countered, rolling her eyes in disdain. “I hate guys like that.”

You bit your lip, hesitating before speaking. “But he’s so cute,” you admitted, feeling a warmth rise to your face. “It’s funny when he gets nervous presenting and adjusts his glasses all the time.” Your voice lowered at the end of the sentence, as if confessing a crime. “I’d go out with him.”

Katie stopped chewing her fry halfway. “Then why don’t you?” You and Erika stared at her as if she had suggested blowing up the planet.

“What?” You blinked, unable to formulate an immediate response. “Are you crazy?”

“You don’t think he’s cute?” She shrugged.

“He’s way too nerdy for my taste,” you shot back, resting your chin on your palm and sighing. “Not to mention, guys like that fall for a weirdo like them.”

“What if…” Erika interrupted, biting her lip suggestively. “What if you made him fall for you?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“I bet you fifty bucks you could make him fall for you,” she declared, crossing her arms with a challenging smile.

Katie made a face of disapproval. “Wow, Erika. That’s cruel.”

You clicked your tongue, thoughtful. “The only time I talked to Dave was to borrow a pencil. How am I supposed to talk to him?”

Erika grinned, tossing her hair back.

“Girl, duh.” She gestured like it was obvious. “We’re literally the most popular girls in school. No need for ceremony. Easy money. Take it or leave it.”

You looked at her, a sly smile forming on your lips. “A hundred bucks. And you let me wear your Vivienne Westwood top.” Erika hesitated, but you raised an eyebrow, challenging her. “Take it or leave it.”

She huffed. “Deal. But I want pictures to prove it.” The handshake sealed the deal. Before you could celebrate, Katie poked your arm, laughing.

“Speaking of which, look, here comes your boyfriend.”

Their heads turned to see Dave crossing the cafeteria with Todd and Marty, the three laughing at something that, honestly, didn’t interest you at all. “Over in the nerd corner, gross,” Erika teased, grabbing another fry.  

You narrowed your eyes, joking: “Don’t talk about my man like that, okay?”

Standing up, you adjusted your top, running your hands over the fabric to make sure it was perfect. Katie quickly tugged a strand of her hair into place, then touched up her gloss with a practiced gesture.  “Couldn’t be more perfect. You’re gonna win over your boy.” 

You winked at them before turning and walking confidently.   Dave’s table was a well-organized chaos—notebooks scattered, half-eaten snacks, and open bags of chips. The three friends were chatting excitedly, laughing loudly, until you arrived.  With a smooth move, you placed your hands on the table and leaned slightly forward.

Silence.  

Todd almost choked on a fry. Dave, who had been laughing at something Marty said, froze in the middle of the movement, his eyes wide behind his glasses.  

“Stop, idiot,” Marty hissed, giving Todd a firm slap on the back as he tried to stop choking. Dave, meanwhile, froze, his wide eyes fixed ahead as if he could trick his own body and pretend he wasn’t completely losing his composure. His hands trembled slightly as he held his can of diet soda, the liquid sloshing inside.  “Sorry... he... he has issues,” Marty added, casting an exasperated glance at Todd, who was still coughing. 

You smiled, your best smile—the one that made guys trip over their own shoelaces.  

“Hi, Dave.”  

It was his turn to choke. The soda, which had been safe in his mouth, became a small liquid explosion, spat directly into Marty’s face.

“Uh... Hi. I mean... Hi.” Dave stumbled, coughing and hurriedly grabbing napkins, trying to clean his mouth while also trying to regain composure. You kept your gaze on him, hiding your disgust at the mess while your eyes briefly met Marty’s—now looking like a mummy wrapped in paper.  

“Can I sit with you guys?” You were already pulling out a chair before they could answer, settling dangerously close to Dave, who shrank to the side, his breath a bit faster.   “So... what were you guys talking about?”  

Todd opened his mouth to answer, but Dave was faster. “NOTHING.”  The shout was so abrupt that even some nearby tables looked over. He cleared his throat, trying to correct himself, and forced a nervous smile. 

Your eyes sparkled with challenge.   “No one’s laughing about anything,” you argued, crossing your arms in front of your body and tilting your head slightly to the side. The subtle movement drew the attention of all three boys like a magnet. Dave quickly looked away, pressing his glasses against his face as if that would help him stay focused.  

“Tell me, Dave... what were you talking about?”  

He blinked a few times, clearly having a system failure. “Kylie Jenner.” 

Todd and Marty chuckled nasally, trying to hide it.  

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow, interested.  

“She’s dating Timothée Chalamet,” Todd added casually. The killer glares he received from his friends didn’t go unnoticed. “What? I watch the news.”  

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head, before leaning closer to Dave, deliberately closing the distance between you. “Hey, Dave. Want to sit with me in math class? I forgot my book.”  

Dave went so rigid it looked like someone had hit the pause button on him. “Sure.” He blinked, processing the words. “I’d love to.”  

He smiled, and there it was—the gesture—adjusting his glasses nervously, just the way you thought was adorable. But in that moment, something inside you hesitated. Your heartbeat a little faster, your stomach twisted in a strange way. Before you could process that, you suddenly stood up.  

“What’s wrong?” Dave furrowed his brows.  

“I remembered I have to talk to Erika.”  Without waiting for an answer, you walked away, feeling their stares burning into your back. As soon as you turned the corner, you found your friends with binoculars. Literally.  “Where the hell did you get that?” You crossed your arms, pointing at the object Erika quickly hid.  

“It doesn’t matter.” She waved her hand. “So, how was it? Dave seemed interested.”

You hesitated for a moment, a strange feeling pulling at you. “It was... interesting.” The response came with the usual energy, but something inside you felt subtly different, like an echo you couldn’t quite ignore.

“I’m gonna sit with him in math class.”

“Perfect. I forgot my book anyway, so I’ll sit with Eri,” Katie said casually.

“Let’s hit the bathroom,” Erika suggested, her voice full of that habitual need to freshen up. “I need to touch up my makeup.”

“Yeah, I need powder like, now,” you grumbled, touching your face as if you could already feel the shine of oil building up.

As they moved away, chatting and laughing as if the world was theirs, Dave and his friends stayed frozen in silence, as if the moment had somehow paralyzed them. Todd was the first to break the trance.

“Did you guys see that? One of the Powerpuff Girls talked to him. Just him.”

Dave let out a small, incredulous laugh, still trying to figure out what had just happened.

“We were at the table too,” Marty grumbled, then returned to his lunch. “But I still prefer the Milky Way terminology.”

Dave furrowed his brow. “Milky Way?”

“Yeah, man. Sun, Moon, and Earth,” Todd explained, hands gesturing as if to paint a picture. “Katie’s Earth, Erika’s the Moon, and your girl’s the Sun.”

Dave felt his face heat up.

“Stop leading the poor guy on,” Marty elbowed Todd, laughing. “He’s already delulu enough.”

But Dave just smiled, grabbing his sandwich. “I like ‘the Sun’... it suits her more than Blossom.” He took a bite, his mind somewhere else, occupied with one thought. “She smells really good.”

“Oh, of course. Go ahead and ask where she buys her bras too,” Todd teased.

Dave rolled his eyes before snatching a fry from Todd’s plate and tossing it at him. “Hey! You’re throwing food from your plate!”

“It’s way more fun with yours,” Todd shot back, already picking up another fry—though his mission was interrupted by the shrill sound of the bell signaling the end of lunch. The students groaned in unison as they made their way through the hallways.

Dave just smiled. The Sun had spoken to him.

The guys headed to class, with Todd and Marty sitting side by side, while Dave’s seat remained empty. He rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants as if that could wipe away the nervousness pulsing in his chest. 

The same battle was happening within you as you walked into the classroom, eyes meeting his as he waved and smiled in your direction—a grin brighter than the fluorescent lights above.

You felt something strange in your stomach, an uncomfortable sensation you couldn’t quite name. But you pushed it aside. After all, Dave was a bet, and you hated losing. Plus, things seemed to be going pretty well with the basketball guy—at least that’s what his constant stare suggested. But suddenly, Landon seemed like the last thing on your mind.

“And here we are again,” you joked as you sat beside Dave, picking a comfortable distance—not too close, like at lunch, but not too far to seem awkward.

“Yeah…” he replied, running a hand through his hair, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“Good at math?” you asked, turning to face him. His eyes met yours—so blue they seemed like sapphires glistening under the classroom lights.

“Of course, I’m great. They used to call me Einstein in the… young geniuses club of… Einstein,” he lied without missing a beat, his nervous smile giving him away.

You laughed, clapping your hands.

“Oh, how awesome! That means you can help me. I don’t get anything the teacher’s saying.”

Dave awkwardly laughed, raising his books to his face like a shield to hide the panic that was written all over him.

Luckily, the universe seemed to be conspiring in his favor, because today’s lesson was on first-degree equations—and at least that was something he knew. He’d even helped Todd with it once. Maybe he could make it through this without looking like a complete idiot.

By the end of the class, as you gathered your things, an idea crossed your mind. The party. You’d promised your friends you’d go, and what harm was there in inviting Dave Lizewski? He’d probably never been to a party that didn’t involve themed cakes and kids running around in party hats.

As he was heading out with his friends, you tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Dave. If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, wanna come to a party at Spike’s place?”

He blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised. A lot had happened in one day. First, you talked to him at lunch. Then you sat next to him in math. And now, an invitation to a party?

“Me? I… yeah, I’d love to,” he replied, a charming smile spreading across his face. A smile you wanted to see more of. You could almost picture taking a photo and putting it in the "cute things" section of your bullet journal.

“I want to too!” Todd raised his hand. You laughed, handing out an invitation to each of them.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice filled with that familiar gratitude.

“Well, it’s nothing formal. You can wear whatever you want,” you softened your tone before walking past them, giving Dave a special wave. He responded with that puppy-dog look of his.

On your way home, your mind raced. You were already thinking of ways to make Dave Lizewski fall under your spell. He was cute, fun to be around, polite, sweet… and his voice? Gorgeous. You were starting to like this bet a little too much. Next step: find an outfit that would make Dave drop to his knees and propose right there at the party. But when you opened your closet, everything seemed... wrong.

“Come on... it’s just some dumb party,” you muttered, running your hand down the row of hangers. Suddenly, all your clothes looked like rags pretending to be high fashion. Better call the girls.

Erika was in airplane mode. As usual.

Katie was your best shot. You dialed her number. “Hey, sweetie. I need an outfit. Wanna hit the mall?”

“I can’t right now, babe. Sorry,” she replied in that always-sweet tone of hers. “I’m at the nail salon, getting those nails I sent you a picture of.”

“They’re gorgeous,” you complimented, doing your best not to sound disappointed. “Guess I’ll go alone, then.”

“Send me some pics, I’ll help you decide.”

“Deal. Catch you later.”

After parking at the mall, you made your way to your favorite store—only to remember you still hadn’t gotten money from your parents. Guess it was time for fast fashion. As you walked into the store, distracted by the racks, you bumped into someone much taller than you.

You looked up. “Dave?”

“Sorry, you can go first,” he smiled, shrugging and taking a step back, giving you enough room to pass through the door and into the store.

“What are you doing here?” You crossed your arms, tilting your head, and started walking side by side with him through the endless array of clothes.

“I realized I don’t have anything to wear for the party,” he said, glancing around, clearly lost in the ocean of polyester.

“I do too,” you murmured, flipping through a rack of clothes. Then, an idea hit you. If he was gonna be your prince, he might as well be the hottest one. “Hey, wanna let me help pick out some clothes?”

His eyes lit up. “Yeah, sure. That’d be awesome.”

“I’ll pick out something perfect for you.” Taking his hand, you dragged him through the men’s section. You picked up a black hoodie.

“Way too goth,” he shot it down.

A blue shirt.

“Matches your eyes.” you beamed. He frowned. “Damn, you’re picky,” you crossed your arms.

“How about this?” He grabbed a blue and yellow flannel, a cocky grin on his face. “Matches my eyes.”

“Do you only wear clothes like a damn gardener?”

“I’m all about that rustic vibe,” he teased. You grabbed a striped shirt. “Would be great if I was going to my baby cousin’s graduation,” he joked.

You raised an eyebrow. “For someone shy, you sure got quick comebacks.”

“Blame the sitcoms my dad made me watch,”

You laughed, grabbing a handful of clothes and tossing them into his arms.“That. That. And that one too.”

His eyes went wide. “Do I really gotta try all this on?”

“Pretty hurts, baby,” you joked, pushing him toward the fitting rooms. He laughed and stepped inside.

As you waited, you absentmindedly browsed some shoes. Then, the curtain opened.

And wow.

Dave Lizewski looked like a whole new person.

The white shirt and simple jeans hugged his body in all the right places, revealing a surprisingly strong physique. The contrast between his angelic face and the well-defined body was almost unfair. You swallowed. “You…” Words didn’t come. Where the hell had Dave been hiding that body? The basketball guys didn’t even come close.

“Uh… I think I’ll change…”

“No!” You interrupted before he could turn. He froze, surprised. “Sorry, it’s just… I’m speechless. Nailed it. Stick with that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think you boss me around?”

“I do,” you whispered, pushing him back toward the fitting room.

“As you wish, ma’am.”

You stood there, staring at the closed curtain, imagining him inside, fumbling with hangers, maybe cussing under his breath. Damn it. He didn’t have the right to be this cute.

Your inconvenient butterflies were interrupted by the soft sound of the curtain sliding along the rail. Dave stepped out of the fitting room, back in his usual clothes, but somehow, something felt different. It wasn’t the loose shirt or the slightly worn jeans. Maybe it was the way he scratched his nose, an automatic habit when he realized he was being watched.He looked at you with a half-smile, his hands on his hips, like he knew exactly what was running through your mind. You laughed softly.

“What?”

“What?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You thought I was gonna let you torture me with your fashion show and not want a little revenge?”

You rolled your eyes, dramatically crossing your arms, but you couldn’t hide how much you were loving the back-and-forth. “Fine, but I get to pick the final look.”

He paused before extending his hand. His palms were warm. You swallowed.

“Deal.”

The exchange of glances lasted half a second longer than it should have before he walked off toward the women’s section. You watched from a distance, laughing quietly as you saw him hesitate in front of the racks, furrowing his brow as if he was facing an impossible puzzle. After a few minutes—way too long for someone who claimed to know nothing about fashion—he returned, holding three dresses carefully draped over his arm.

“Is that it?” You raised an eyebrow, grabbing the clothes and sizing up the options.

“It’s tough to choose. I don’t know how you do it.”

You ran your fingers over the fabrics, feeling the softness of each one. A pink, delicate and romantic. A black one, classic, but clearly way too big for you. And then, the blue. It was almost the same shade as Dave's eyes. Almost. Still, the comparison felt unfair. His eyes were way more vibrant, like a shimmering ocean under the sun.

“You’ve got good taste, Lizewski,” your voice came out softer than you expected.

“I try.”

“You’re so cute. Stay right there ‘til I get back.” You turned and walked toward the fitting room, but you heard a murmur behind you.

“Yessir!”

Turning your head, you caught Dave doing an exaggerated bow before flopping onto the waiting couch, arms behind his head. You laughed quietly to yourself as you stepped into the fitting room. The pink dress looked nice, but the neckline was a little too daring for the occasion. The black one would’ve been perfect... if it wasn’t two sizes too big. But the blue...

It hugged your body gently, outlining your figure without being over the top. The fabric felt soft against your skin, and for some reason, wearing that color, you felt different. Special.

Taking a breath, you slowly opened the curtain, stepping out with hesitant steps. Dave was distracted, staring at the ceiling, but when he noticed you, his eyes immediately locked onto you. He blinked a few times, like he was processing what he was seeing. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“How do I look?” you dared to ask, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of the dress.

“You’re…” Dave opened his mouth, but no words came out. His brain screamed stunning, perfect, unreal, but all he could say was, “Great.”

Great.

The word echoed in your head, hollow and unsatisfying. Great, not beautiful. Burgers were great. Dresses were great. Nail polish was great. You forced a smile, nodding slowly.

“Oh…”

Your fingers went to your hair, twirling a lock around your finger, a nervous gesture you tried to hide.

“I... I’m gonna… wear my clothes. I’ll be right back.”

Dave opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then stopped. He just nodded, looking away.

“Okay.”

He cursed himself the second the curtain closed. Why didn’t he say what he really thought? Why did he let such a lame word slip when he wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked?

Inside the fitting room, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, sighing. That was the most beautiful and special dress you’d ever chosen. Even if it had only been “great” to Dave. A gift from the sweet guy who was in love with you..

He was in love with you?

No, it was too soon for either of you to be feeling anything. You changed back into your original clothes and stepped out of the fitting room, feeling your steps heavier than before. The silence between you both was strange, filled with unasked questions and answers neither of you dared to say.

As you both walked out of the store, you stopped in front of the entrance, looking down at the sidewalk. “I’m heading home,” your voice came out softer than you expected.

“Me too,” Dave replied, rubbing the back of his neck. But then, his gaze met yours again, and something in the way he said the next line made your heart skip: “Make sure you get home safe. Take care of yourself.”

“I will…” You smiled lightly, about to turn and leave, when something inside you made you stop. Your body acted before your brain caught up, and before you could stop yourself, your fingers grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. Dave stopped immediately, his eyes wide.

“Uh... I just realized I don’t have your number, so I can… let you know when I get home safely.”

His eyes lit up for a moment, surprised. He took a step closer, as if he wanted to make sure he heard you right. “My number?”

“Your number…” you confirmed, pulling out your phone. He hesitated for a second before reacting, pulling out his own phone and dictating the numbers. You typed them in quickly, saving the contact without thinking. Only when you felt his gaze on the screen of your phone did you realize what you’d done.

Dave Lizewski <3

A heart.

A freaking heart.

Your mouth dropped. What was wrong with you?

“Uh… looks cute,” you deflected, shoving your phone back in your bag and pretending you hadn’t just made the biggest romantic idiot move of the day. Dave just smiled, shaking his head.

“Well... I’ll head out now,” you said, taking a step back, feeling like if you stayed one more second, you might do something else dumb.

“Okay. Let me know when you get home,” he said, his tone firmer now.

You nodded, feeling the warmth of genuine concern in his voice. For some reason, it made you feel strangely… protected. And you loved that feeling.

You walked out of the mall with a goofy smile on your lips, walking like you were in one of those teenage romance movies. Your purse swung on your wrist with each step, and everything around you seemed light. But that comfy feeling faded instantly when a chill ran down your spine.

It was weird. Like someone was watching you. Your shoulders tensed, and you tried to shake it off, quickening your pace toward the car.

“Ugh, that’s creepy,” you murmured to yourself, your voice trembling without meaning to.

You hurried, unlocking the car with a click and practically jumping inside. You locked the door right away and let out a heavy sigh, trying to catch your breath.

This is what you get for going to the mall late in a sketchy city.

You started the engine and drove home, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. Something was off. You checked the rearview mirror at every intersection, at every dimly lit street, but saw nothing. Still, your chest felt heavy, like it was being pressed by some invisible unease. And then you remembered. That pothole at the start of your street was still being fixed.

Great.

A frustrated groan slipped out as you tapped your heels on the car floor, nervous. That meant you’d have to get out and walk the rest of the way. Taking a deep breath, you swung the door open and started walking fast.

But the farther you went, the worse the feeling of being watched got. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly, keeping a sharp eye on your surroundings. Every shadow seemed darker, every rustling leaf sounded like footsteps behind you.

And then it happened.

A strong hand covered your mouth, pulling you forcefully into a bush. Your heart raced in panic, and you tried to scream, but the palm over your lips muffled any sound. Your body froze as your eyes took in the masked face. Green suit, black mask, a lightning bolt symbol on the chest. Kick-Ass. The superhero from TV. The same one your friends were talking about, the one no one knew if he really existed or if he was just a bunch of crazy people trying to imitate. But it could very well be just a cosplay, right?

“I’m going to take my hand off your mouth, but you have to promise not to scream,” the muffled voice came through the mask.

You nodded quickly, eyes wide. The second he took his hand away, you sucked in a sharp breath and— 

“HELP, SOMEONE HELP ME, THERE’S A CRAZY MAN—”

His hand came back immediately, muffling your scream. “Quiet!” He hissed, looking around quickly. “There’s a stalker after you.” Your stomach churned. So that was it. That strange feeling, that weight on your chest. Your breathing quickened, but you forced your head to work. He didn’t seem to be lying. If he really was Kick-Ass, that meant he knew what he was doing, right? 

“I’ll distract the guy, and you stay here, okay?” he said, releasing your mouth again. You swallowed hard and nodded. He stepped out of the bush and walked to the sidewalk, and that’s when you saw him. The man standing a few feet away, leaning against a lamppost. His gaze was malicious, full of something sick. 

 “Get out of here, you green stick. There’s nothing for you here,” the man grumbled, glaring at Kick-Ass with contempt. But the masked man wasn’t intimidated. He grabbed the costume bat and took a step forward, his posture becoming firmer.

“You bastard. Go find something to do and leave her alone!” His tone of voice became deeper, more serious. For the first time, it seemed like he really belonged in the role of hero.

The stalker snorted, rolling his eyes, but then his face closed in a dark expression. Slowly, he pulled a pocketknife from his pocket and twirled it in his hand, as if to show off the silver blade under the streetlight. You felt a knot in your stomach, instinctively covering your mouth to keep from making a sound. Kick-Ass didn’t back down, holding the bat tighter. But when he tried to strike, the man was faster, kicking the weapon away.

Kick-Ass stood still for a second, looking from the bat on the ground to the blade in the guy’s hand.

“Dude, we can try to talk,” he started to ramble, backing away with uncertain steps. “Violence’s not the answer to all our questions.”

You snorted. Seriously?

Your heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You couldn't just watch him get beaten! Without thinking twice, you stepped out of the bushes with firm steps, your heels clicking on the asphalt.

"Hey, you idiot." The stalker turned to face you, surprised. Before he could react, you were already in front of him.

Boom.

Hot sauce straight to the eyes.

He screamed, backing away in disorientation, his hands immediately going to his face as he growled curses. “You motherfucking bitch!” he yelled, falling to his knees, writhing in pain.

“Come with me,” you said quickly, grabbing your hero’s hand—who was still a little paralyzed by the scene. You pulled him away from there, always checking over your shoulder to see if the stalker was still on the ground. Fortunately, he didn’t seem in any condition to follow you.

When you finally got home, you practically threw yourself inside, locking the door the second you stepped in, and quickly sliding a chair under the doorknob to reinforce the security. Your breathing was still erratic, and your hands were trembling slightly.

But you didn’t have time to panic. You rushed over to the windows, checking each one, locking them all before heading upstairs to your bedroom. Kick-Ass followed you, shutting the door behind him.

“Look, I’m really sorry…”

“What the hell were you thinking, kid?” You muttered through gritted teeth, yanking off your heels in frustration and throwing them across the room without caring where they landed. Your heart was still pounding from what had happened outside, and now, as the adrenaline slowly wore off, anger started to flood in. “How do you even hit a guy if you don’t even know how to use a broomstick?”

“It was a bat,” he corrected automatically, watching you carefully as he peeled off his pink jacket and tossed it onto the chair.

“Bat, broomstick, whatever. You didn’t know how to use it!” You shot back, grabbing a handful of cotton pads to remove your makeup. Your skincare routine was the only thing that could help you regain some sense of sanity after everything—despite the crazy guy in the green suit still standing in your bedroom.

“I just... I wanted to protect you!” He protested, following your movements across the room until he finally knelt beside you, by the vanity.

“Protect me? I protected you!” You raised an eyebrow, scrubbing your face with the cleansing oil harder than necessary. “And you don’t even know me! How did you even get here?”

“I do know you! We spent the whole afternoon together!” He gestured, looking almost offended by your accusation.

You huffed, wiping your face with a wet wipe before reaching for your moisturizer. “Yeah, me and Kick-Ass spent the whole afternoon together. Just like Spider-Man and Mary Jane. I’ve seen that story before.”

Dave opened his mouth to respond, but paused. His gaze shifted, and he seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“Shit… wait, I’m still wearing the mask,” he muttered to himself before finally pulling it off, revealing his face. You froze. The cotton pad stopped halfway to your face. Your eyes locked onto the guy kneeling next to you. Your jaw dropped.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, jumping back as if you’d been electrocuted. You shot up from the chair, panic creeping in. “Dave Lizewski is in my room!”

Frantically, you looked around for something—anything—to defend yourself. Your eyes landed on a hairbrush, and that was the best you could come up with.

“How the hell are you here?” You screeched, pointing the brush at him in a completely ineffective manner.

Dave simply raised his hands in surrender, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. “I’m Kick-Ass,” he pointed to his suit as if that explained everything. Your gaze shifted from his face to the suit and then back to his face.

Now it made sense.

You took a deep breath and lowered the brush, tossing it back onto the vanity.

“Okay,” you murmured, still trying to process everything.

It was then that a soft knock echoed on the door. Your heart raced. “Honey, is there someone with you?” Your mom’s voice came from the other side, tinged with a hint of suspicion.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, your eyes widening as they locked with Dave’s. He panicked. 

“Hide! Throw the blanket over yourself!” you hissed, pointing to the bed.

Without hesitation, Dave practically flung himself onto the mattress, pulling the blanket over his body and curling up into an odd, motionless mound. You took a deep breath, straightened your posture, and opened the door, holding your phone in hand, forcing a natural smile.

“Hey, mom,” you greeted, keeping your voice steady. “I was talking to Erika. We were rehearsing for tomorrow’s project.”

Your mom narrowed her eyes, giving a quick glance around the room. Your hand was sweating, but you kept the innocent expression, silently waiting.

“Just don’t stay up too late,” she warned before finally backing away.

“I won’t,” you promised, gently closing the door—and immediately locking it again. You let out a heavy breath, heart still pounding. Turning, you walked over to the bed, pulled the blanket away, revealing Dave, still curled up underneath it.

“Can I leave now?” he whispered.

You chuckled softly. “No, if you leave now, my parents will know someone’s here.”

He sighed and relaxed his shoulders, looking pensively out the window.

“Do you have any other clothes, or is it just that green thing?” you asked, crossing your arms and studying him curiously.

“I always carry extras in my backpack,” he replied automatically, but then his face went pale. His expression shifted immediately. “Where’s my backpack?”

“Shit, Dave!” You closed your eyes for a moment, massaging your temples.

It wasn’t there. You hadn’t seen it when you came in. It must’ve been left outside. He jumped to his feet, running his hands through his hair in pure anxiety. “Shit, how am I supposed to get my backpack? What if your parents see?”

“Calm down.” You took a deep breath, trying to calm both of you down. “I’ll get it.”

You carefully opened the door, peeking into the hallway. Empty. On tiptoe, you rushed as quickly as you could to the entrance of the house, grabbed his backpack before anyone noticed, and quietly returned to your room, locking the door behind you.

“I got it,” you murmured, panting. Dave sighed in relief, grabbing the backpack and opening it quickly, pulling out a few clothes. You watched him, still trying to process everything.

Kick-Ass was in your room. And he was Dave Lizewski.

What the hell was happening to your life?

“It’s fine. Now stay over there, and I’ll change. No peeking,” you warned, pointing to the other side of the room with a threatening look before heading to the wardrobe.

You quickly searched for something comfortable to wear—definitely not a lacy baby doll. The last thing you needed was to be embarrassed by a clumsy superhero. You changed in record time and, as you turned around, found Dave already in shorts. But there was one detail that caught your attention immediately. He was shirtless.

Your eyes instinctively traced the length of his back—defined, masculine, every muscle shifting as he pulled the shirt over his head. His messy curls were tousled in the process, and the fabric slid down his skin, settling perfectly at his waist, stopping just above his lower back.

Holy shit.

Dave Lizewski was trouble.

“Are you done?” he asked, not turning around, still staring fixedly at the wall.

“Just a second,” you answered, savoring the view a little longer. Your gaze moved from his broad shoulders down to his ankles, passing over his surprisingly well-toned calves. How was that even possible?

“I’m done,” he finally muttered, forcing himself to look away.

“Okay.” He spun on his heels, running his hands down his shorts in a nervous gesture. He was trying to cover his discomfort, but his restless gaze gave him away. He’d never been in a girl’s room before. Let alone one as pretty as you. It was unsettling.

“Shall we sleep?” you suggested, turning off the light and pointing to the bed.

Dave froze. Sleep? Together? In pajamas? In the same bed?

“W-what?”

“Sleep,” you repeated casually, lying down on the large bed and patting the empty space next to you.

“Oh, right. Just sleep.” He let out a nervous laugh, shaking his body as if trying to shake off the tension before lying down beside you. He pulled the blanket up, crossing his arms over his chest, staring at the ceiling as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

You settled on your side, resting your head on the pillow and watching Dave, who remained still, his gaze locked onto nothing, eyes distant and unfocused. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, finally shifting his gaze to you.

“Nothing, you just look weird,” you giggled even more, covering your mouth to stifle the laughter. Dave, inevitably, joined in with a laugh of his own.

“Shhh!” You tried to shush him, but failed miserably when another wave of giggles hit you.

“Shhh!” He mimicked, covering his mouth, which only made the situation even funnier.

It took a few moments for both of you to calm down, your breathing returning to normal. The comfortable silence that settled between you two was broken by your voice.

“Tell me something interesting.”

Dave frowned. “Out of nowhere?”

“Anything,” you insisted, scooting a little closer. “It’s a great way to get to know someone.”

He adjusted his position on the pillow, thinking for a moment. “Did you know there’s a world record for eating the most cockroaches? The number is 36.”

You scrunched your nose. “Gross!” Your body instinctively shifted, and without either of you noticing, Dave’s body moved closer to yours. “Did you know that the older violins get, the better they sound?”

“No, I didn’t. That’s pretty cool,” he replied, genuinely intrigued. “Did you know I can eat 14 hot dogs at once?”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You just made that up.”

“No, seriously,” he insisted, laughing when you playfully pushed against his chest. You felt his muscles tense under your touch. “I really eat without complaining. My record is like 17.”

“I doubt it,” you murmured, still smiling.

Dave gently took your hand and placed it on the pillow, holding it for a second longer before letting it go.

“You look way prettier this way.”

“Prettier how?” Your voice came out softer than you expected.

“Like this… natural,” he muttered, his gaze lingering on your face before his eyes met yours. “Before, you seemed... I don’t know, fake. Like you were trying to prove something. I don’t know if it was the makeup or something else... But like this, without anything, you look more beautiful.”

His words hit you like a punch. It was true. You spent so much time worrying about your image, trying to maintain a certain appearance, a reputation. But now, lying next to someone as genuine as Dave, that facade felt completely unnecessary. The guilt hit you hard, like a punch to the stomach. You had been playing a game, messing with him. With someone so kind and pure.

You forced a soft smile. “Thank you.”

He smiled back, pulling the blanket over his shoulder to snuggle in deeper. “Goodnight,” he whispered, exhaustion finally weighing him down. “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Dave. You too…”

But sleep didn’t come immediately. Your eyes stayed on him, admiring how peaceful his breathing was, how everything around him seemed to glow just a little bit more. Slowly, your eyelids grew heavier, and you drifted off to sleep—dreaming of that beautiful dream that was Dave Lizewski.

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Thirty Six

Aylah’s POV:

The living room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the table lamp casting shadows across the walls. I lay with my head on Kayla’s lap, her fingers lazily running through my hair as we sat curled up on her couch. The rhythmic motion was soothing, grounding—exactly what I needed after the past few days.

Kayla let out a slow breath, breaking the comfortable silence. “So he’s really here?”

I sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah… It’s crazy.”

Kayla let out a low whistle, shaking her head. “Yeah, it really is. Who knew he could take off time like that? Like, fuck, isn’t he supposed to be busy as the world’s top racer?”

I hummed in agreement. “He is. Even I’m confused as to how Jade let him go.”

At that, Kayla’s fingers paused in my hair for just a second before she scoffed. “Babe, there is no way that bitch let him go. He’s definitely here on his own accord.”

I frowned, the thought unsettling. “There’s no way, though. He never does anything without her okay.”

Kayla let out a dry chuckle. “I know. But think about it—would she have really let him go and chase after you when he could be making her more money right now?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but then I paused, considering her words. “That’s true… but it could just be another plot. Another way to trap me into working for her again. Designing him another car. The first one already got him to win a race, so she probably wants another one that’s going to produce the same results.”

Kayla hummed in response, her fingers resuming their slow movement through my hair. “That could be the case… but it’s been a week, AJ. Surely, if she sent him to do this, he’d be on some tight schedule, right? He would’ve tried to force you against your will by now just to make Jade happy. But instead…” she shrugged, “he’s been chilling, getting coffee every day, like he has no responsibilities in the world. It’s kinda like… he only sees you.”

I turned my head slightly, looking up at her. Her expression was thoughtful, but there was something else beneath it—concern.

I swallowed hard, my voice quieter now. “Whatever his reasons are, he needs to stop. I’ve moved on. I don’t see myself going back to that place ever again.” I exhaled, the familiar ache creeping into my chest. “Mum already told me how it ended with Dad… and I don’t want her to lose me because of this crap as well. It’s best we stay away from each other.”

Kayla gave me a long look before nodding. “Just make sure you do what you want, babe. Don’t let anyone cloud your judgment. Whatever you decide should solely be based on what he does and your own opinion on it. Okay?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

She smiled, satisfied. “Good. Now sit up. My legs are starting to give out because of your fat head.”

I gasped, sitting up quickly before swatting her shoulder. “Hey!”

Kayla burst out laughing, and despite everything—despite the mess in my head, the confusion, the lingering ghosts of my past—I found myself laughing with her.

The next morning, I woke up feeling strangely lighter, as if the conversation with Kayla had lifted a weight off my chest..By the time I arrived at the café for my shift, I quickly scanned the place out of habit. But he wasn’t there. The spot he’d occupied last Friday was empty.

And I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

The morning rush had already passed, and the café had settled into a comfortable lull when Leah, Cyrus, and Serena gathered around me near the counter, each of them looking somewhat deflated.

“The café’s really quiet without him,” Leah sighed, wiping down a tray absentmindedly.

“Yeah, it’s like a ghost town,” Cyrus added, dramatically resting his chin on the counter.

Serena groaned. “Aw, man, that means we have to say goodbye to our pay raise.”

I rolled my eyes before lightly smacking each of them on the head. “This is a good thing, you guys. Now get back to work so we can go on our break.”

At the mention of break, their faces immediately lit up, and they scattered like children who had just been promised candy. I shook my head with a small laugh, tying my apron a little tighter before getting back to work myself. But just as I was handing a customer their change, a familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

I turned to see Adam, standing beside me with an amused expression.

I blinked. “My what?”

Adam chuckled, crossing his arms. “Jungkook. The guy who’s been practically glued to this place. I thought you two had a thing going on.”

I nearly dropped the cash register. “We do not have a thing going on,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “And even if we did, he’s not my boyfriend.”

Adam raised a skeptical brow. “Uh-huh. Then why’d he look at you like you put the stars in the damn sky every time he was here?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. I hadn’t told Adam about my weird relationship with Jungkook and I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to.

“He’s just weird like that, anyways why do you care?”

"Maybe I don’t like the idea of that prick flirting with the girl I like," Adam says, his voice a little rough around the edges, a slight edge of jealousy cutting through his tone.

I freeze, the words hanging in the air between us. "What?" I ask, my heart skipping a beat.

Adam’s lips curled into a slow, almost teasing smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. It was like he was daring me to understand something I’m not seeing. Without a word, he stepped closer, his fingers grazing lightly against the side of my face. The sensation sent an unexpected shiver through me. Then his hand moved to tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, the soft touch making my pulse quicken.

I couldn’t think straight as his hand lingered by my cheek, his fingers brushing against my skin just a moment longer than necessary. The closeness, the subtle hint of something unspoken, made it hard to breathe.

"Are you free tonight?" he asked, his voice now low, almost as if he’s unsure whether he should ask, but does anyway. The question seemed innocent enough, but the way he said it made it feel anything but.

I blinked, unsure of how to respond. My stomach flipped. "Yeah…why?" The word escaped my lips without me even thinking about it.

Adam didn’t answer right away, but his smile softened—more sincere now, as if he’d been waiting for this moment, or perhaps it was something else entirely. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made everything around us fade.

"Would you be up for having dinner with me?" he asked, his voice hushed, almost as if he was testing the waters. The vulnerability in his question surprised me.

For a long moment, I was speechless. My mind raced, trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the past few minutes. My heart skipped, then stuttered, unsure of how to react. I’d never seen this side of him before. Not this open, this…honest.

"Y-Yeah," I stammered, blinking rapidly. "What time?"

He smirked, as though pleased with my response, and that small smile made my insides tangle up in knots. "Around seven," he replied, his voice now smoother, more confident.

The words sank in. Dinner. With him. It seemed like such a simple gesture, really, but for some reason, it felt like more. My pulse quickened, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. A part of me was afraid to look too deeply into what was happening.

"Okay," I managed, a small smile tugging at my lips as I grew more comfortable with the idea. "It’s a date."

His smile mirrored mine, that same warmth spreading across his face. The tension between us melted for just a moment, and for the briefest of seconds, everything felt right. Adam turned to walk away, his confident strides taking him further from me, but unbeknownst to me was that the moment his back was turned the smile faded from his face.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, the weight of the moment hanging in the air. My mind was spinning with questions I wasn’t sure I could answer. There was something about this encounter, about Adam, that felt different from anything I’d ever experienced.

Maybe tonight would help me understand what I felt. And maybe, for once, I’d figure out what all of this really meant.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"So, how was the date with Adam?" Leah asked, leaning on the counter with a playful glint in her eyes.

I tried to focus on arranging the cups, but the question made my heart flutter in an unexpected way. "It was really nice," I said, taking a deep breath. "He took me to this fancy restaurant, La Lumière. It was beautiful, and he was really sweet."

Before I could add anything else, Cyrus and Serena spoke at the same time. "Ooooh, really?"

I exhaled, leaning back against the counter, letting the weight of everything settle over me. "Yeah... but I’m still not sure how I feel."

The three of them fell quiet, waiting for me to continue, their expressions full of curiosity.

I hesitated, chewing on my bottom lip for a moment before continuing, "He's really sweet, don't get me wrong. But I feel like I need time to figure out myself. Like... I just need to sort out my life before jumping into a relationship."

Cyrus, leaned casually against the counter with that infuriating smirk of his, raising an eyebrow. "Or maybe someone has a certain F1 racer in mind," he teased, the glint in his eyes making it clear he was waiting for me to react.

Before I could even process his words, Leah and Serena both gasped in unison. "Oooohhh."

My face flushed, and I pushed a hand through my hair, feeling embarrassed. "Oh my god, you guys, I told you I don’t like him!"

Cyrus grinned wider, obviously enjoying the moment. "But, girl... imagine your babies. They'd look so cute."

I nearly choked on my breath at his suggestion, my face turning a shade of red I didn’t think was possible. "N-No, they wouldn't! I'm not getting with him."

Serena and Leah exchanged knowing glances, and I could tell they were trying to hold back their laughter.

Cyrus, still grinning like the mischievous devil he was, shrugged nonchalantly. "Then... can I have him, being fucked by a stallion like him would be a blessing."

I stared at him, my face still burning as I shook my head, trying to ignore the laughter building in the air. "You are ridiculous," I muttered, but even I couldn’t hold back a small smile.

"So, what are your plans for Valentine’s Day?" Leah asked, leaning forward with a sly grin.

I paused, wiping the counter for a second too long, before answering. "Well... nothing special, I guess. Me and Kayla used to spend Valentine’s together since we were both single."

Leah groaned dramatically, flopping onto one of the café chairs. "Boringggg," she whined, rolling her eyes. "Girl, let’s go to the club, get drunk, and forget that this entire stupid day exists."

Serena chimed in, nodding vigorously. "Yeah, exactly. We need to forget about our miserable lives on this stupid-ass holiday." She tossed her hands up in mock frustration, making it clear how little she cared for the whole thing.

Cyrus, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, grinned. "It’s like this holiday was created specifically to spite us for our singleness," he added, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I laughed, shaking my head at their dramatic reactions. "You guys really have a way of making everything sound worse than it is."

Leah grinned, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "Well, you know it’s true. Valentine’s Day is just an excuse for people in relationships to rub it in our faces."

"Exactly!" Serena agreed, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's like, why bother with the ‘celebration of love’ when all it does is remind us that we’re alone?"

I rolled my eyes, though a small part of me understood their frustration. "Okay, fine. So, you want to get drunk and forget it all? I guess I can’t argue with that."

Cyrus looked at me, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, you're in. I knew it," he said, nudging me playfully. "You can’t resist a good night out with us."

I groaned, knowing they wouldn’t let it go. "Fine. But only because I really do need to forget how... weird everything has been lately."

Leah jumped up, clapping her hands together. "Yes! That’s the spirit!"

Serena grinned. "Let’s make it a night to remember—or forget, depending on how much we drink."

Jade’s POV:

Jade sat at her sleek, polished desk, her fingers drumming rhythmically against the surface as her heel tapped impatiently against the floor. She kept glancing up at the clock on the wall, the seconds ticking by, each one making her more frustrated.

He should have been back by now.

Sighing, she leaned back in her chair, her fingers tracing the edge of her desk as the frustration continued to build. She ran a hand through her dark, straight hair, feeling her irritation mounting with each passing minute. If there was one thing Jade couldn’t stand, it was incompetence, and right now, it felt like Jungkook was testing her patience.

In a sudden move, she opened the drawer of her desk, grabbing the remote control and flipping the TV on. The news channel flashed to life, and she settled back, hoping to distract herself from the gnawing tension in her chest. But as the reporter’s voice filled the room, Jade’s frustration only deepened.

"Breaking news," the reporter said, her voice smooth and calm, "Jeon Jungkook, the world-leading F1 racer, has missed yet another race this season, raising serious concerns about his commitment to the sport."

Jade’s lips tightened into a thin line as she watched the screen, her jaw clenching. Not this again.

The reporter continued, talking about how Jungkook had missed three major races already and speculating about the potential reasons behind it. She knew the media was all over it, always looking for an angle to tear him down. But it didn’t help that his absence—his increasing string of missed races—was starting to raise more than just eyebrows in the racing world.

Jade gritted her teeth, her fingers curling into fists. I told him to get it together.

Her eyes flickered to the clock again, and then back to the screen, watching the reporter’s words spill out. The headline scrolled across the bottom of the screen: “Jeon Jungkook Misses Third Race of the Season, Uncertainty Clouds Future.”

Jade’s stomach churned. She could practically feel the weight of the media's gaze on her, as if they were all waiting for her to respond. She pressed her fingers to her temples, the pressure in her head growing as her annoyance reached a boiling point. She had worked too hard to build Jungkook’s reputation, to make him the top-tier name he was in Formula 1. And now this? Another slip-up? Another missed race, another day of silence from him?

Jade’s thoughts turned darker. How could he be this irresponsible?

He knew how much was at stake. She had bent over backward to protect his image, to keep his sponsors happy, to make sure that the media never found a crack in his perfect facade. And yet, here he was, going off the rails like some… amateur.

Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up her phone, dialing his number with forceful precision. She stared at the screen, waiting for the call to connect. The minutes stretched on, but there was no answer.

Her grip tightened on the phone. Why haven’t you given up yet Jungkook?

She knew it wasn’t like him to just disappear. He was the type of man who thrived under pressure, the type who would turn up at the last minute, do a press conference, and walk away with a smile. But this? This was different. This was affecting her career—no, their careers.

After the call went to voicemail, Jade threw her phone down on the desk, her chair scraping back as she stood up in one fluid motion. Her fingers balled into fists as she stormed to the window, her eyes narrowing as she stared out at the busy streets below. Her mind raced, calculating the damage.

She would bring him back. She had to. Because if Jungkook thought he could just miss race after race and not face the consequences, he was sorely mistaken.

Suddenly, the shrill sound of her phone ringing cut through the silence of the room. Her pulse quickened, and for a brief moment, she thought it might be Jungkook calling back, finally acknowledging her frustration.

But as her eyes flickered to the screen, her heart sank. It wasn’t Jungkook’s name flashing on her phone. It was her father’s.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her fingers hesitated over the screen. The anger she’d been drowning in moments before faded, replaced by a creeping dread. What does he want now?

She let out a shaky exhale, her hand hovering before finally answering with a nervous, “H-Hello?”

Before she could get another word out, her father’s voice erupted on the other end, loud and angry.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY TOP RACER?!" he bellowed, the intensity of his words making her flinch, even though she was used to the force of his anger.

Jade’s expression immediately dropped, her entire demeanor changing. The fire inside her quickly turned to ice. She could feel her hands shaking as she struggled to maintain her composure. Her father had always been a force to be reckoned with, and when he was like this, everything felt heavy—impossibly heavy.

"I-I have it under control," Jade stammered, trying to sound more confident than she felt. She straightened her back, despite the sinking feeling in her gut. She couldn’t let him know she was rattled.

Her father wasn’t hearing it. "You call this under control?!" His voice was even louder this time, and she could practically feel the rage pulsing through the phone. "You’re telling me that after three races he’s missed, you’ve got everything under control?"

Jade’s jaw clenched. She had known this conversation was coming. Her father didn’t tolerate mistakes, especially when it came to his investments, and Jungkook’s behavior was beginning to hurt more than just their reputation. It was affecting everything.

"Yes, I’m telling you," Jade said, her voice firmer now, though there was still an edge of uncertainty. "I’ve been in touch with him. He’s going through some personal things, and—"

"I don’t give a fuck about his ‘personal things,’ Jade!" Her father interrupted, his words sharp like a knife. "This is a business, not some charity case! I don’t care if he’s having a crisis. He better be at that next race, or you and I are going to have a serious problem. Understand?"

"I understand, Father," she said quietly, trying to suppress the frustration bubbling inside her. "I’ll handle it."

"You better," he growled. "Because if you don’t, you’ll be the one dealing with the fallout. And trust me, I’ll make sure it’s worse than you can imagine."

Her father’s words hung in the air, thick with the weight of his threat. Her chest tightened as she sat back down at her desk, staring at the blank screen of her computer. The phone clicked off, and Jade was left with the silence in the room. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, her thoughts racing once more. How the hell did she let it get to this point?

[toyboxterror]

End Year, New Year

Pairing: Asakura Shin/Reader

Summary: Shin's plan to give you a New Year gift didn't go as well as he hoped.

Contains: Established relationship, mostly Shin's POV, reader is insecure about their looks, gender neutral reader, they/them pronouns used on reader, but only a couple times and doesn't affect the story.

Author's Note: This was supposed to be published during the anime debut but stuff happened. :P

Huge thanks to @jasminerva for giving her idea, which I used as inspiration! <3

Shin remembered the time when you were eyeing a necklace. You thought it was beautiful, and Shin agreed in his mind (although he had his eyes more on you when he thought of it). But he only saw negativity in your thoughts.

You traced your fingers slowly around the pendant, as if you didn't deserve to be touching it. It was a stunning necklace, but just imagining wearing it around your neck feels like you ruined its beauty, as if someone like you shouldn't wear such jewelry. But your boyfriend didn't think the same.

“You're not gonna buy it? I think it suits you.”

You laughed at him, as if he was telling you a joke. “Nah, I want to spend my money on something better–” You suddenly gasped when you saw something that caught your attention more. “Shin! Isn't that the vinyl of your favorite album!?”

You already pulled him away excitedly before he could tell you his honest thoughts. His eyes lingered at the ornament as you dragged him away.

He spend the rest of the year saving enough money to buy it. After the end of the year, he rushed to the store and let out a huge sigh in relief. He managed to get his hands on the last copy of the jewelry. He was determined to prove your thoughts wrong.

His plan was to invite you to his family's dinner, then surprise you with the gift when you arrive. He felt enthusiastic from imagining your happy face and thanked him with a kiss. It's really simple and not complicated, isn't it? Then Shin had nothing to worry about. Until something worrying happened.

“Yo, Shin. What are you doing?” Heisuke asked curiously as he took a bite from his warm pork bun. Some of the crumbs fell onto his jacket, and he casually brushed them off to the floor. He had been watching the blond man rummaging around for a while since he got back from buying gift wraps.

“Did you see any small brown box near the cash register? I think I misplaced it around here before I left this morning…” He asked as he picked up and looked into the small empty trash can near him, hoping to find what he's looking for with luck.

“I think I saw it earlier,” Lu, who was sweeping around the store and eavesdropping on the boys, spoke up. She tapped her chin with her finger as she tried to remember. “I thought it was one of the trash along with the empty cup noodles so I threw it away when I was cleaning the counter.”

“Pii.” The little bird perched on Heisuke's shoulder and let out a noise to confirm that he saw it happen.

“WHAT!?” Shin yelled in shock at the top of his voice. Lu and Heisuke were startled by the sudden outburst. The red haired girl almost dropped the broom from her hands.

“T-the box…” He kneeled on the ground and held his head with his hands in distress. “It's a present for [y/n]... They said they're coming over this evening…”

“WHAT!?” / “PII!?”

It was their turn to panic.

“M-maybe it was still in the back of the building. Let's check it out together, yo!” Heisuke pulled on Shin’s arm to make him get up from the floor with the help of Piisuke tugging on his strand of hair. He didn't budge. A thousand of horrifying imaginations already haunted him and made him freeze in place.

“I'll check the nearest dumpsite to see if anyone has already picked up our trash.” Lu said, grabbing her jacket before heading out and lightly kicked on Shin's butt in annoyance. “Stop moping around, it's not over yet! Why did you put that thing around here carelessly, damn it!”

Shin and Lu sat near the cash register with a dejected expression on their faces even though they're fresh out from a warm bath. The trio spend the whole day digging around the trash to look for the box whenever they're able to. They were covered in stink, so they decided to take turns in cleaning themselves up after closing the shop, with Heisuke being the last.

Shin heard a sniffle beside him. He looked over and jumped at the sight of Lu's tears already wetting almost her whole face with her snots dripping down from her nose. “Whoa! Lu!?”

“S-Shin…. Bwahhh….” She sobbed and looked at Shin with teary eyes. “It's all my fault…. I should have- *sobs* I should have checked what's in the inside…”

Shin watched her wiping her own tears with her sleeves and sighed. He brought his hand to the young girl's head and gave her comforting pats. Lu stopped her sobbings and looked up to him with tears still flowing down from her eyes.

“It's not your fault. It's mine to begin with,” Shin looked away and scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I should have paid more attention and care to my own things. Besides, inside of it is just a cheap cool notebook that I thought [y/n] would like, I can just buy it again next time,” he lied, he didn't want to make Lu feel more guilty. “So don't feel bad.”

He couldn't lie to himself, but he was devastated by the whole thing. He had been saving up for a long time to give you the gift and make you happy. He's not good with accessories, he wasn't sure if he could find another that would suit your taste. Maybe he should gave Yona[1] a call and asked for advice…

“Waah… Shin…” The man felt a sudden tug on his green apron. He glanced at Lu and watched her in terror as she brought the fabric to her face and blew her nose out on it.

“Gah! What the hell!? You could have at least asked for a handkerchief! Get off me!!!” He yelled as he tried to push Lu’s head away from him. But her grip and strength were too strong.

“... Guys?”

The pair of siblings didn't notice the doorbell rang and you already stood by the door. “Are you alright, Lu? Did you two fight again?” You let yourself in to check on Lu as you looked at her in concern.

Shin gave a final pat on Lu's head and smiled at her, signaling her that it's okay and wanted some privacy with you. Lu nodded at him before smiling at you, “It's alright! We just made up, you two have fun!” She winked at them and waved them goodbye as she headed upstairs, leaving the two of you alone in the empty store.

“Sorry about that. We're okay now,” Shin breathed out tiredly, carefully taking his apron so the snot didn't stain on the rest of his clothing and put it on the counter. He groaned, “And Lu dirtied my apron again. It's the usual stuff, don't worry.”

You chuckled. You find it cute at how they quarrel and get along sometimes, they really act and care about each other like siblings.

Ding!

“I heard that!” He glared at you and huffed, his cheeks were tinted with pink. He can admit that he cares for Lu, but sometimes it's a little embarrassing to show it or hear how others talk about it.

You only laughed at him in response and took a seat near him. “You said you want to give me something important before having dinner with your family together. What is it?” You asked giddily. You tried to hide it, but Shin could tell you're excited from how you bit your lip and your eyes lit up from anticipation alone.

“About that…” He tried to find an excuse, a lie, a cover up. He didn't want to disappoint you, but he didn't know how to answer you without letting you down.

No. He shouldn't hide anything from you. It's in the family rules. He took a deep breath, to muster up the courage to tell the truth to you.

“[y/n], I'm really sorry. I wanted to give you a gift for New Year. It took me longer to save up money for it, so it's a bit late. But–”

“[y/n]! [y/n]!”

A young, high pitched voice called out for you, making Shin's and your head turned to the source of the voice. Hana ran up and climbed up to your lap excitedly, clutching something in her hands. You hurriedly held her steadily so she wouldn't fall over. She gave you a tight hug, surprisingly strong for a little girl. “Hana missed you!”

You laughed at her and patted her head, “I missed you too, Hana.”

“Look, look!” She waved the thing in her hand to your face. Shin widened his eyes in disbelief. It was a necklace. The one that he bought for you specifically. “It's a gift for [y/n]! Shin bought it for you!”

Your eyes brightened at her words. “Really!? You planned this together with Hana, Shin? You guys are so sweet!”

“H-huh…?” Shin furrowed his brows in confusion.

Ding!

After tuning into her thoughts, he learned that Hana found the necklace on the counter, the place where he carelessly put it. Unknowing that it was a special gift for you, she used it to play dress up in her room for the whole day.

So that's where it went, and why none of us couldn't find it. Shin thought to himself and smiled, watching Hana happily handing the necklace to you. While he was mentally and physically exhausted from searching for it all over the place, he's relieved that it's safe and sound in his little sister's care this whole time.

You heard Aoi calling out for Hana, saying that her favorite show had already started on TV. She bid you and Shin “bye, bye!” before she eagerly left, leaving the two of you alone once more.

“I remember this necklace. I didn't expect you to buy it for me,” you chuckled lightly at the memory of seeing it for the first time as you admired the beautiful necklace. “I really do want to buy it myself, but I wasn't sure about it. I don't want it to end up not looking good on me and becoming another waste of huge money.”

When Shin felt self-deprecating thoughts and imageries slowly crept on to your mind again, he shook his head and took the necklace from your hands in a gentle manner.

“And I'm here to prove you wrong,” he said and bestowed you with the charming and kind smile that always makes your heart skip a beat. “Turn around. I'll help you put it on.”

You did what you were told. You felt his warm fingers against your skin as he tried to put the necklace around your neck and fumbled with the hook. His touches felt delicate and careful, as if you're fragile and he could break you from even the smallest wrong moves. It was kind of ticklish. You held yourself back from shivering.

“Done.” He said after clasping the hook.

You touched the pendant hanging on your neck. After dreaming about having it once in a while, it felt odd that you finally get to wear something as exquisite as this.

“Uh, there's no mirror around here but you look great!” He stammered, cautiously choosing his words to avoid hurting your feelings on accident. “It really matched your look… But you're more charming than the necklace, of course! Not that the necklace is ugly, but– You know–”

You chortled at him. You brought yourself closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, it surprised him that he shut himself up from making himself sound more awkward. Even though you two already dated for some time, he was still bashful when you got close and touched him like this. You watched his whole face turned bright red as his slightly shaky hands held your hips to keep the two of you steady.

“Thanks, handsome. I wish I bought something for you if I knew you got me a New Year present. But–” When you brought your face closer to him, Shin squeezed his eyes shut and puckered his lips a little too hard. He was still afraid to kiss you, as he wasn't used to it. He was scared of messing it up and ruining the moment for you. But you didn't mind. You find it kind of cute. You made a mental note to teach him how to kiss you properly when you have the time. (It made Shin feel more flustered when he read your thoughts.)

However, instead of getting kissed on the lips, he received one on his cheek.

It was a small kiss, but enough to make his head spin. He opened his eyes and stared at you like a deer stuck in headlights and about to explode from how red his face was.

You laughed at his reaction and patted his chest after you fixed the part of his clothing where you grabbed from the wrinkles, “I hope this will do it for now. I'll give you more after dinner.”

Right on that moment, Heisuke walked in and fresh out from the bath with a towel hanging around his neck. He saw you and his face brightened to see his friend. Completely unaware of the situation, despite seeing the two of you in each others’ arms, he called out to you, “Yo, [y/n]! Have you seen– Ack!”

Thankfully, Lu and Piisuke rushed after him and he was quickly yanked away by the back of his shirt with the bird pulling on his ear. He was shushed by Lu before you and Shin got the chance to spot him, leaving the love birds more time for each other.

Reference:

A small cameo / mention of Jasminerva‘s OC from cloud8 to show my appreciation for her as a friend.

[ghoulishautism]

free meme edit for anyone to use

[writingouthere]

singledad!Sukuna x neighbor!reader-Sukuna and Yuuji really want you to join their family! role reversal from my other series, think this will just be a one-shot though. Yuuji is Sukuna's brother but he's raised him since he was a baby and Yuuji calls him dad.

cw: Sukuna is manipulative and also a murderer but everyone's happy and you're both aware so it's okay. this is really just fluff.

"I....want you to be my mommy?"

Sukuna scowled as Yuuji looked more confused than ever.

"No, no that is not what you're saying kid. You're just going to tell her about how the other kids' mommies on the playground make you feel left out."

"But they don't, Megumi's mommy always gives me a snack when I'm hungry!"

"That's not his mommy, that's Megumi's daddy," Sukuna corrected, wondering if this was just a hopeless endeavor. He could have easily followed a plan this simple when he was four, but Yuuji was too soft. This was what happened when you raised a kid in a stable, loving environment. They lost the ability to go for the jugular when needed.

"But Megumi's daddy calls him mommy?" Sukuna didn't hold back his groan. You were going to be coming back from your morning walk any minute. He didn't have time for Yuuji to not get basic directions or to explain the dynamics of that Gojo family.

"Look when we go out there, just look sad and I'll handle the rest."

"But I'm not sad, I'm happy. We're going to the park and Megumi's mommy is bringing mochi today!"

"Shit kid, do you want a mom or not?" Sukuna asked, trying not to roll his eyes as be bent down to snap on the velcro straps on Yuuji's light up sneakers.

"I don't need a mom, I have you," Yuuji said. He looked uncharacteristically defiant and Sukuna couldn't help feeling proud of his little brother.

It had been touch and go when Yuuji was a baby. Sukuna had still been a kid himself and they didn't have any money and Yuuji's mom was even crazier than Sukuna's. Their father nowhere to be seen. Since Sukuna and Uraume had spread the pieces of his corpse around the city.

Sukuna pushed these memories aside and ruffled Yuuji's hair. "I know you don't need one, we only need each other." Yuuji nodded, his little head moving with all his conviction. "But it might be nice, right?"

Yuuji seemed thoughtful before finally biting his lip and looking down at his sneakers. He tapped them, making the red and black lights flash.

"She's really nice, I like her."

"I like her too," Sukuna said and he heard the sound of your sneakers slapping against the tiled hallway. "So let's go and look sad, okay?" Yuuji nodded, determined now and Sukuna grabbed his backpack before the two brothers went out into the hall.

You were just taking your keys out of your bag and you turned to the brothers, a smile on your face. "Good morning gentlemen, it's nice to see you. Heading out?"

That was when you noticed Yuuji's downturned expression. Sukuna saw your face shift into one of concern and he resisted a smirk.

Sukuna cleared his throat and squeezed Yuuji's hand. Good boy. "We're heading out to the park, you know the one by the high school."

"Oooh, that's nice. You like that park, right Yuuji? You said it was the biggest one in the whole city," you crouched down so you could look Yuuji in the eye and Yuuji seemed to forget he was supposed to be sad for a minute because he jumped up and down, the lights of his shoes flashing in the dim hallway.

"Yeah, it has the best swings too!" You ooohed and aawed appropriately while Sukuna tried not to smack his head against the wall. Maybe he and this kid weren't related after all, fuck.

Yuuji seemed to notice his expression because he stopped jumping to look down at feet. He put out his lower lip and used the tip of one of shoes to mess with a scuff mark on the linoleum. It would have made a more pathetic visage if his shoes weren't still lit up.

"Yuuji," you said, coming closer so you could kneel on the ground in front of the boy. The sight of you on your knees did something to Sukuna, but he pushed it aside to see what the brat had in mind. So far, he wasn't impressed with the performance. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just," Yuuji let out a sad sigh that wouldn't get him a gig in a car commercial. "Megumi and his mommy will be there and it makes me feel sad because all the other kids have mommies and I don't." God, there was no way you could be buying this, Sukuna looked at you and saw that your eyes looked a little watery.

Huh, look at that. Maybe he wouldn't have to kick the kid out, after all.

"I'm sorry Yuuji, that must be hard," you said and you reached out and swiped out where Yuuji had even managed to shed a tear. Sukuna felt so proud. "But I know that your dad is really excited to take you and the two of you are going to have so much fun!"

"Could you come too?" Yuuji asked and you bit your lip. Yuuji looked up and batted his little doe eyes at you. "It would make me really happy if you came with us. We could all have fun together."

"I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"It wouldn't be intruding," Sukuna cut in. "If you're busy though no worries, I know we'll have fun just the two of us. Right, Yuuji?"

Yuuji bit his lip and Sukuna could tell he was torn between showing how excited he was to spend time with his dad and being 'sad' so you would join them.

You looked between the two before seeming to come to some kind of decision. "If you don't mind waiting while I change, I'd be happy to join you two. Should I bring anything?"

"I think we're all set. We'll wait outside for you," Sukuna said and Yuuji went up and gave you a big hug that you returned.

Sukuna took Yuuji outside to wait for you, the kid occupying himself with a mostly washed away hopscotch chalk sketch. Sukuna alternated between watching him and texting Uraume who was claiming to be over him and his nonsense. Sukuna would take it more seriously if Uraume hadn't been saying that for going on twenty years. He knew they loved him, fucking sap.

Soon, but not soon enough, you came bounding down the stairs. A scarf tied around your neck, your turtleneck exposed by the open top button of your coat. He couldn't keep letting you be single, looking all pretty like that. He was too greedy for that.

Besides, looking the way you did and knowing your big heart, it was just a matter of time before some nice loser tricked you into settling with them and he just couldn't have that. The idea of you taking someone else home to your warm apartment with it's million throw blankets and a cookie jar, an actual cookie jar, he was convinced you kept stocked up just for Yuuji, made him want to commit another murder.

"Ready?" you asked and Sukuna nodded while Yuuji took your hand in his right and Sukuna's in his left.

"Let's go!"

Yuuji's enthusiasm was contagious and the two of you chatted all the way to the park. Sukuna saw some people shoot you all looks as you walked. Sukuna was used to people viewing him with suspicion, even fear. His tattoos, dyed hair and general demeanor making people cross the street to avoid him. Something about you and Yuuji seemed to balance him out though and people reacted as if they were just looking at a cute family going out on a Saturday.

You didn't seem to notice either way and just continued talking to Yuuji about some new anime for kids Sukuna had probably had to suffer through but hadn't retained any memory of.

As soon as you all got to the park, Yuuji took off with barely a good-bye. You seemed concerned and Sukuna bumped your shoulder with his. "Don't stress, he just sees the Fushiguro kid over there. See, they're already fucking around."

He pointed to where Yuuji was chasing around a scowling dark haired boy the same age as him. Sukuna didn't buy the scowl for a second.

He had once run into the kid and his weird dads at the grocery store and the kid had scolded him when he figured out Yuuji wasn't with him. Sukuna would have knocked the kid down a peg if he wasn't actually four years old and if his 'mommy' didn't low key give him the creeps. Sukuna was pretty sure he wasn't the only person guilty of homicide currently at this playground.

"That's so cute," you cooed and Sukuna nodded along while he took you over to some picnic tables. Unfortunately one of them was already occupied.

"Aww if it isn't Sukuna. How nice it is to see your lovely face on a Saturday morning!"

"Gojo."

Sukuna was ready to leave it there but then the bastard got up and walked over. His partner continued sipping on a large cup of boba, watching from his seat although he gave you a little wave.

"Who is this, new girlfriend?" Gojo asked tilting down his sunglasses to look you up and down.

You laughed and introduced yourself while Megumi's parents did the same. Gojo grabbed your hand when you held it out and kissed the back of it, his lips curved into a smile even as he lingered, his fingers clearly holding onto where your pulse would be. Sukuna moved closer to you and put a hand around your waist, the gesture a clear sign for the other man to back off which Sukuna knew Gojo understood because the bitch fucking smiled at him.

Sukuna didn't necessarily take any of Gojo's flirtations seriously. He flirted with every mom and dad on the playground, including him when they first met. He'd even seen him flirt with the guy who worked the ice cream truck so egregiously the kid had looked on the verge of passing out. His partner never seemed bothered and Sukuna wondered if he was just that secure in the relationship or if he hoped someone would finally come along and get the annoying man away from him.

As usual though, Gojo lost interest quickly and went back to his husband who didn't say anything as Gojo lay across his lap like some kind of housecat.

"There are children here," Sukuna said. Mostly out of spite and not jealousy that the two of you weren't curled up like that.

"Don't be homophobic," Gojo said and you snorted before looking innocent when Sukuna shot you a look.

"Alright, let's go see what Yuuji's up to." Sukuna went along with your excuse, mostly just because he liked the feeling of your hand in his. The two of you wandered closer to the playground where Megumi and Yuuji were currently engaged in a game with some other kids that Sukuna couldn't have possibly guessed the subject of.

The kids alternated running around the large structure, disappearing into tunnels, jumping down to hide underneath slides and behind climbing walls. Every time Yuuji popped back up to view he would wave and call out to you both. Sukuna still felt a little warm whenever the kid called him dad and the look you gave him after made him feel caught.

"So, I can see why Yuuji was so sad those morning. Megumi's parents are just vicious monsters," you said and Sukuna was so taken aback he knew his expression didn't hide it well. You smiled and swung your hand that was still in his, turning so you could look at him.

"I don't think that's what the issue was," Sukuna managed and you nodded.

"Right, it must have been because he's so lonely," you said before the two of you were interrupted by the sound of children's ecstatic laughter. You both looked to where Yuuji was now being chased by an entire horde of children.

"I'm the curse, you have to catch me," he yelled out and the other children screamed and laughed as they tried to grab him. Yuuji had never had a hard time making friends and that was very evident in the way he got kids of all ages, even the quiet ones to join in on his game.

"You can have friends and still be lonely," Sukuna argued and you gave him just the softest look. It wasn't fair for you to see through his schemes and still look at him like that.

"Are you lonely, Sukuna?" You got closer to him, your hand still got in his and you were so warm. "Maybe I should come home with you, then?"

Sukuna couldn't have stopped himself from kissing you even if he wanted to, which he didn't. He let go of your hand so he could cup your face in both of his palms. You moaned your approval into his mouth and he responded by nipping your upper lip, pulling you up to meet him as he leaned down to kiss you. Sukuna was about to risk another arrest by taking you right here in the park before a familiar voice called out to the both of you.

"Hey now, there's children here."

Sukuna turned to give the infuriating dumbfuck a piece of his mind when you distracted him by pulling him back to you and giving him a quick peck on the lips. He could leave the fight with Gojo for another day, he supposed. He knew he'd win anyway.

You're smiling and you look so happy and Sukuna doesn't feel the least amount of guilt in getting you here. Even if you knew it was a trick.

Although.

Did this mean you knew that all those times he was "stuck at work" and needed someone to watch Yuuji were a lie too? Or that he actually could cook and the one time he set the building fire alarm off had been because he started an actual fire and not just him burning dinner and two of them didn't actually need you to invite them to dinner so much? Did you also know that your radiator hadn't just stopped working randomly but he had broke it, knowing you would call him because your super never answered, and when he said a part was still missing and you would just have to stay the night at his and Yuuji's place-

Sukuna looked at you more closely and you just kept smiling.

As Yuuji called for the two of you to come help him and Megumi on the swings, Sukuna wondered if he had ever trapped you, even once. Or if you had just let him catch you.

Watching you push Yuuji as the boy screamed for you to go "higher, higher!" he decided he didn't care. Fuck, it might just be better. Knowing you were maybe as crazy as he was.

shout out to the dad at the park today who had the audacity to play with his toddler and have a cute dog at the same time.

also I liked the end of this so much I may just write a prequel of Sukuna and reader taking turns gaslighting the other into a relationship, we'll see.

Edit: wrote the prequel, here!

[heeliopheelia]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cursing, crying, neglect, tiny mention of bleeding

a/n: i think i win the contest of overusing commas with this one 🤍 tbh this fic is just yapping so pls deal with me... it's good to write some proper angst again tho, i missed it :(( hope you guys like it and don't find them too repetetive!!

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

It's been two weeks since you got the opportunity to take a proper look at Heeseung. And now as you do, you find it hard to recognize your fiancé who looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion, to say the least. 

“I never asked you to mother me or worry about me so much. Stop getting into my business so much. I’m not a child, YN.”

It’s like he was blind to how hurt his words and actions were making you feel. It’s so unusual for him, so out of character and unfamiliar to you, that you can’t help but think that maybe it really is your fault for riling him up this much.

“I worry about you because I’m your fiancé and I love you, you jerk!” You scoff at his careless words and take a step back, the aching in your heart only increasing. “I only want to look after you because you clearly don't know how to do it yourself. I mean, look at yourself! You look as if you haven’t slept in a week and I know you haven’t been eating either. How can I not worry about you when all you do is neglect yourself?”

“Dunno, maybe find yourself something to keep you busy enough. You stay at home all day, do as much as nothing, no wonder you’re so damn nosy. I would be too with this much time on my hands.”

He’s so indifferent to everything you say, you try to recall where it all started going so wrong. All you did was ask whether he’s eaten at work or not, and now the two of you are snapping at each other as if you weren’t lovers, and trying not to hurt each other was a long forgotten thought by now. 

“If you’re so unhappy with our relationship – with me, maybe it’s best we take a break,” you say as you feel your throat tighten painfully. 

“Agreed. I never even wanted this marriage in the first place,” he scowls, silencing you, words rolling out of his mouth way quicker than his brain is able to process it. 

He bites his words back quickly when he watches your face dropping along with your shoulders, and fuck, you look as if you’ve given up on him right then and there. 

You walk away then, tears streaming down your face, muttering something about how ungrateful he was being, and all Heeseung could do was stand still as if plastered to the floor, in utter disbelief of his own, untrue, words.

After his cruel statement echoes through his head for the fourth time, he finally snaps out of the self pity and rushes after you to the kitchen where you’re leaned over the counter, head buried in your hands as you cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly. He walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for everything I said, sweetheart.”

He turns you around gently and feels his chest tighten at how fucking sad you look. He never wants to see you like this. He never wants to be the cause of this ever again.

And when he looks to the side, his throat closes and dries completely at the sight of your engagement ring laying on the counter right behind you. 

“Are you sure you didn’t mean it?” You ask, wiping the tears away with your hand pointlessly as another stream follows right after. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t, love, I swear I didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him by your neck again. 

Never again. Never fucking again. He keeps telling himself in his head as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, just where your ring was supposed to be sitting snugly. Then he lowers it and places your palm against his chest, right above his heart, and covers your smaller hand with his.

That was too close to losing you, and himself, for that matter. Because he would never recover if you were gone from his life and all because of him. 

“Then why did you even say it?” You sob pitifully as you feel the warm tears dripping down the tip of your nose.

“I don’t know,” he shushes you gently, trying his best to not break you any further. 

You pull away once you feel calm enough, hands clutching his t-shirt. “It's not too late to call off the wedding, Seung,” you manage out breathily, raising your palm to cup his cheek. “I'd rather not take the step further than have you unhappy.”

“Darling, no.” Heeseung bends down to minimize the distance between the two of you and peppers your face with loving, warm kisses. He just wants to erase those atrocious thoughts out of your mind as quickly as possible. “Please, there's nothing I'd ever want more than to make you my wife. That was stupid of me to say. I'll never be happy if I'm not with you, my love.”

“I just don’t want to force this marriage on you. You need to want it as much as I do, otherwise it’s pointless.”

Heeseung almost chokes on air when he rushes out his answer even before you can properly finish your sentence. “I do want it. Please, you have to believe me.” 

“Really?”

Heeseung smiles at you softly as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Really. Scout’s honour.”

You breathe out, feeling relief, and look up at him with squinted, puffy eyes. “Sometimes I just wanna strangle you to death, Lee Heeseung.”

He chuckles lightly before pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Aren't you just so adorable? You should add this to your wedding vows.”

“Maybe I’ll add this to your eulogy instead if you pull shit like that again.”

Heeseung clicks his tongue with a grin pulling on his lips. “Touché.”

PARK JAY

The atmosphere in the living room is so heavy that your chest starts to hurt. You’re standing barely two steps away from the man you love the most, yet you’ve never felt more far away from him than in this moment. 

His eyes – cold but still undoubtedly full of love, drill holes in the side of your head as you turn your face away from him to try and gather your thoughts.

Arguments with Jay were rare. You always tried to work things out immediately, keeping your heads cool. But something has broken over the last month and you can’t see each other eye to eye anymore. At the very beginning of your relationship you made a promise to never go to bed angry. To never leave things unresolved. Yet now Jay’s been sleeping on the couch for the past week, and you fail to understand what the fuck has happened to the two of you. 

And you can’t help but think that, maybe, sometimes love is just not enough. 

“You’re not even trying to find the middle ground anymore. All you do is snap at me the second I come home. I’m fucking tired of it! Would it hurt to give it a rest for a day?” 

The tension is almost palpable. You hate how you can’t seem to back away from any argument but only keep hurting him instead. 

“Put effort into our relationship first, then we’ll talk,” you spit out instead, against your better judgment.

“It’s funny coming from you who’s done nothing but put a fucking distance between us!”

“This doesn’t make any sense anymore, Jay. We need some time apart,” you finally speak into the dull silence, eyes casted downwards at the floor as your hand keeps twitching, only to finally grab for your ring finger and slip the silver band off of it. You didn’t think much of your action, hell, you didn’t even process it properly. 

Well, not until you hear the shaky exhale leave Jay’s lips. 

Silently, he presses his lips together and nods his head before turning on his heel and leaving the room. You listen intently to the shuffling, then ringing of the keys and eventually the door being shut. 

A moment of silence turns into minutes of you staring at the ring on your palm with tears burning your eyes mercilessly. 

With your heart falling low to your stomach, you drop down on the couch and tug on your hair slightly, cursing yourself for acting so mindlessly. 

You wallow in self pity in the dead quiet room. The shiny ring feels so heavy and burning in your clenched fist. You take in a deep breath, then quickly slide the band back onto your finger, feeling instantly shielded with it being on its righteous place again.

And just like that, you spend the next three hours on the verge of losing your sanity. With no word from Jay. He’s left your messages unread. He’s left your calls unanswered. 

You don’t know whether he’s okay or hurt or simply gone. All that combined is enough to leave you panicked and terrified, unable to have a second of peace. 

You never meant to take it this far. This – your words and rapid actions, that will forever remain as one of your biggest regrets. You don’t like the idea that you made your other half feel like you’ve taken him for granted. Or for what’s worse, like a person that you can use for unloading your frustration on. 

There’s this throbbing pain in your chest as you realize that maybe he’s not coming back because why would he if you can’t even love him properly?

Your fingers are bleeding from how hard you’ve been picking on your cuticles. 

And then you hear the jingle of keys and soon the front door opens quietly. You know that even after all of this he’s still being careful to not wake you up. It’s killing you how he thinks you’d ever be able to get a wink of sleep without knowing he’s safe. 

You’re quick to drop your phone on the couch and shoot up on your legs, rushing over to the door and throwing yourself on Jay’s neck. 

“I was so worried about you!” You gasp out, clinging onto your fiancé desperately as tears unknowingly make their way down your cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do that again!”

“Sorry, my phone died,” he replies after a second or two, bringing his arm up to wrap around your waist and keep you close to him. 

He’s still upset but he understands where you’re coming from, knowing well that if it was you instead of him he’d probably go insane from worry. 

He can feel your heart hammering against his chest, so he lifts his hand and strokes your hair to help you calm down. But then you start crying, feeling his gentle touch even after everything you said, that was enough to push you over the edge. You clench your trembling hands on his sweater as you burst out with choked sobs, slouching against his warm and comforting body. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you weep into his chest like a mantra and Jay can quite literally feel his heart cracking at your miserable state. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, hot air hitting your ear before he presses a soft kiss to its tip. “Don’t cry anymore, honey. We’re okay.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you,” you whimper quietly. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolds you with a frown. Your whimpers twist his guts even more than your harsh words from before. “It’s not the first nor the last time we’ll have an argument. It’s not worth losing your pretty head over it, okay?” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat one last time. “I promise I'll never take it off again. I’ll never lash out on you like that ever again too.”

Jay grabs your hand and runs his thumb over the thin silver band, the same one he was picking so carefully for weeks, and a small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. He hates how shameful you sound. 

He’ll never tell you how the sight of you pulling your ring off your finger made him physically sick to his stomach. He can't have you feeling even worse than you already do. So instead he brings you close to him and rests his forehead on yours. 

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper quietly as you close your eyes, your heavy eyelashes letting go of another few droplets of crystal tears which Jay’s lips soak up instantly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you actually left.”

“You know me better than to think I’d let us break it off over such a petty fight.” And, yes, you do. But your lip wobbles with silent agony at the sole thought of that. “Hey,” he tries again as he presses a loving kiss to your red nose. “I’m not leaving, okay? How could I ever?” 

“I love you.”

With his thumb caressing your burning cheek so tenderly, you feel at peace again.

“I love you too,” he replies without skipping a beat. “No one can handle you as well as I do. And no one sees me for me like you do. We complete each other. We belong together.”

He kisses you silly then, until there’s no more tears left in your body and you’re barely able to breathe anymore. He kisses you until your legs give in and he swoops you up to carry you into your shared bed for the first time in what seems like forever.

He kisses you until it engraves in your mind that there’s no other person for him in this world but you.

SIM JAKE

“Baby, I already apologized.” A groan lingers at the back of his throat but for his own sake he stifles it inside. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

You sit on the edge of your shared bed and clench your fingers on the silky duvet. “How about you start showing up to things we both agreed on attending to?”

He runs his hand down his face. “I know. It just slipped my mind, that’s all. You know how busy I’ve been this week.”

“This shouldn’t be my business only, though. I mean, for christ’s sake, it’s our wedding! I would really appreciate it if you participated in something for once!”

Flowers and cake. That’s literally all you’ve asked of him to go and pick with you for the wedding reception. Knowing his tight schedule, you picked the date carefully so that it wouldn’t meddle with his work and you could even go grab some dinner afterwards. But your plans all went out the window when he didn’t even bother showing up or giving you a heads up text, standing you up yet another time when it comes to your wedding preparations.

You’re honestly getting tired of it.

“I’ll be there next time,” he assures you quickly as he nervously taps his fingers on the doorway of your bedroom. 

“You said you wouldn’t do that,” your voice wavers as your shoulders drop with resignation. With the back of your hand, you wipe off the tears that made their way down your cheeks. “You promised to help, Jake. But you left me alone with everything, as usual.”

“It’s not even that big of a deal. This can be rescheduled any time. Baby, stop stressin’ so much.”

“But it is a big deal to me!” You cry out, palm reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You breathe out heavily. “I don’t want to do everything by myself! We’re supposed to be in this together! If getting married means that I’m gonna be alone with all the responsibilities that you don’t consider important enough, I’m not even sure I still want it.”

To back up your words, your hand moves half-consciously to your ring finger and you twist the cool piece of jewelry in between your fingers. 

“No, no, no, no.” Jake moves quickly, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes towards you to desperately clasp your hand in his two and stop you from whatever the hell you were about to do. He drops to his knees in front of the bed, right at your feet. “Baby, you promised you’d never take it off.”

You’re at a loss of words as you look into his wide eyes, the seriousness of your actions only catching up to you now. You gasp quietly, eyes watering just like his, quickly relaxing your tensed hand in his and letting him slide the ring back down your finger, just where it belongs.

Silence envelopes the two of you, besides the sound of your sniffles. 

You feel awful. 

Jake feels even worse. 

Leaning forward, you press your face to his shoulder and melt instantly when he brings a hand to caress your hair. 

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, clenching your hand to feel the cool ring against your skin. “I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean to.”

“I know,” he soothes you just as softly. He stands up from the floor and carefully maneuvers the two of you so that you’re placed on his lap as he sits with his back against the headboard. “It's my fault. I'm sorry. I never meant to disregard your feelings like that.”

At the end of the day, both of you would rather set themselves ablaze than watch the other one hurting. 

You nod silently, heart pounding in your chest before you bring your arms up and throw them over his neck.

“I’m sorry I was so impulsive.”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” His soothing voice carries over the room, enveloping you with warmth. “I promise I'll be here whenever you want me to from now on. I don’t want you to feel neglected by me, especially now when you’re this stressed over the wedding. I won’t let you down, again.” 

“I just need a little help, that’s all,” you mumble tiredly into his skin.

“I know.” His warm lips press to your forehead lovingly. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive douche. It won’t happen again. I’ll take some days off next week, hm?”

The tears on your face dry slowly as your hold on him tightens. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s done. I'll be all yours and you’ll be all mine then,” he hums and noses at your cheek, finally bringing out a small giggle out of you. After all these years, he still melts at the sound. “I won’t let things get this out of hand again, YN. I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Tilting your head up and bringing his down towards you, you join your lips in a kiss that you’ve been longing for for days. His movements are slow and careful as he tries to soak up as much of the moment as possible. 

His kisses slowly put your broken pieces back together. He never knew how much seeing you cry like this would hurt him. And he’ll make damn sure he won’t ever have to experience that again for as long as you're with him.

“If I have a life to spend, it'll only be with you, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice to match yours, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You're it for me. I'll never give you a chance to doubt that ever again.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“You’re never home! There’s always a hundred things more important to you than spending an hour of your time with me. Your fucking fiance! Are we really about to get married when you’re clearly so tired of me already?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you finally voice out everything that’s been sitting on your chest for the past month. Things have not been working out well with the two of you, much to your despair. He’s been neglectful, always too busy to help you with anything – even the wedding related things that you should’ve gotten done weeks ago. 

And you know that he’s swamped with work and it's not his fault. You understand everything. But to ask him to spare you an hour or two of his day shouldn’t be too much. It shouldn’t make him snap at you unlike what he just did the second he came back home. You slowly begin to lose your hope.

“God, have you always been this needy? Why can’t you accept that I can’t always put you first? No matter how much I’d want to, sometimes I just can’t! Deal with this!”

“Fucking- Fine.”

Your hand moves quicker than your brain, and the next thing you know, your shiny ring is being pulled off your finger and resting in the palm of your other hand. 

You can see the disbelief flashing through his face briefly before it completely morphs into a scowl. 

“You really think that this will solve the problem?” He asks, eyebrows narrowed as he glowers at you from across the room. “Really? Does that ring mean so little to you that you go and throw it away with any minor inconvenience?” 

You try to blink away the frustrated tears, hand raking up to brush your hair away from your face. “No, fuck, I just- I don’t know what to do anymore, Sunghoon. I feel like I’m the only one in this relationship. I need you to give me something more because whatever you’re doing now is not enough for me.”

“Well, I’m putting out everything I have, YN! I love you! If that’s still not good enough for you, then maybe it’s not meant to be.”

The silence that falls in the room doesn’t last long as your sudden sob pierces Sunghoon’s ears quickly, making his stomach drop to the soles of his feet. His heart wrenches and twists as the anger simmers down and evaporates from his body within a second, and he’s quickly coming back to his senses at the sight of you breaking down right in front of him. 

“Can’t you just try?” You cry into your hands, shielding your face away from your fiance. “That’s all I’m asking of you. Is it really so hard to try?”

No, it’s not. Sunghoon knows it without a second of thinking. It’s not too hard to try, never if it’s for you. And his throat dries so quickly when he basks in the weight of his words that finally made you break as well. 

“You don’t know how much it hurts to feel like you’re too much for your partner,” you wail with a small voice, shoulders trembling and hands quickly getting damp with tears. “You’ll never know how it is to feel unwanted, because you’ll never have to when you're with me. Because I love you, asshole, but now I’m doubting if you’re saying it back just for the sake of it.”

With air getting stuck in his throat, Sunghoon looks at you wide-eyed before quickly crossing the living room and enveloping you in his arms. His warmth wraps around you in what you've always considered to be safety, but now it just makes you cry more. 

He finds it hard to breathe. The hesitation in your eyes feels like a stab to his chest.

“Of course I still love you,” he says, voice muffled by your hair. 

He hates how he made you feel the opposite. He hates how you’re right and he never had to worry about any reassurement of such kind from your side because you’re just that good to him. And his heart breaks with the realization of how much of a lousy partner he’s been to you when all you ever were was nothing less than perfect.

So he places his hand on the back of your head and presses you even closer to his shoulder as you cry, his own eyes burning with tears at the sound of your sobs and sniffles. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling,” he apologizes with a heavy heart, fearful of what’s about to come next. “I didn’t mean to neglect you this much. I could say that I’m tired and the work has been a lot lately, but I know these excuses are not enough to make up for my actions.”

You’re mad and hurt, but you love him and would never want to give up on him, so you wrap your arms around his middle and hold him almost as tight as he holds you, burying your wet face in his chest. 

“I love you more than anything, YN.” He pulls away from you only to cup your face and make you look at him. His long fingers wipe away the tears with gentle touch, soothing your stinging skin instantly. “You could never be too much for me. I want all of you. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll love you better.”

And when you’re looking up at him with these shiny eyes of yours, he closes the distance and presses a loving kiss to your swollen lips, hoping to take at least some of the pain away. He doesn’t think he can hold you any tighter. He can’t love you any stronger than right now, and it messes with his head how easily he could’ve had it all ruined only minutes ago. 

He’ll never take your love for granted ever again. Because if he did, he’d never be able to pick up the parts of whatever was left of him, and put himself back together ever again. 

You can feel his warm hand opening your closed palm before he takes the ring you've been clutching so tightly and holds it in between his fingers. 

“Can I put it back on, baby? Please.”

You nod wordlessly while you try to tame your tears. You hold your slightly trembling hand up to him. He takes it, gently, and watches as your bottom lip wobbles while he slides the ring on your finger just like he did months ago. 

“I'll never screw up like that again. You have my word for it.”

You sniffle quietly when he kisses you right on the cool band adorning your skin. “You better not, Park Sunghoon.”

His long fingers caress your cheek, wiping the remains of the tears away. “Can you forgive me, darling?”

You don't need to think long of an answer. “You know I can never stay mad at you. Even if you're a idiot, I'll never stop loving you. You have my whole heart, Hoon. Please, don't ever make me regret trusting you with it.”

permanent taglist + taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @seongclb @iamnotalicia

© heeliopheelia 2024 // ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT copy, translate or repost any of my works on any other social platforms.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours

synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his

— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)

— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!

— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys

satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.

“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.

“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”

“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.

“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”

“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.

he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”

“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”

“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”

“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”

“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.

“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”

“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”

“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.

even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”

“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.

satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.

he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.

you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.

so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?

and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.

you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.

satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.

he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.

“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”

“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”

“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”

“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.

everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.

“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”

he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”

“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”

“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”

“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”

“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.

you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.

“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.

“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.

“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”

“got it,” you nod furiously.

“got what?”

“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”

“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”

“just what?” he raises a brow.

“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.

he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.

your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.

“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”

“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”

“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”

“say you love me,” he demands.

it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”

and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.

and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.

satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.

“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”

“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”

he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.

it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.

he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.

satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.

when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.

“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”

“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.

“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”

and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.

but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.

it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.

and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.

“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”

“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”

“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”

“how long do you plan on being mine?”

“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”

“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”

“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”

“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”

“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.

“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”

dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this

[strwbrychffoncke]

"baby ,i care for you,, 2.6k words synopsis: caleb nurses you back to health contains: fluff! lads caleb x f!reader (caleb calls you "good girl" + "silly girl" x1) ,established relationship! ,just some self-indulgent fluffy sick comfort ,chef!caleb ,kind of stern!caleb (he's just worried) ,caleb makes u take medicine ,two suggestive jokes (cause its caleb) ,like one second of angst ,one single use of "gege" ,he carries you to the couch ,he pats your head/gives u a massage ,lulls you to sleep ,one head kiss ,i think thats it note: not proofread! its 5 in the morning when i post this so forgive any mistakes i just needed this out of my system i need him to take care of me so baaad :x enjoy

-

for some reason, you woke early for someone who didn't sleep till the late hours into the morning last night.

what you'd gotten couldn't even be considered proper sleep, more like just a nap, but somehow your body wasn't too keen on slipping back into the grips of slumber that easily.

and somehow, you woke up feeling even worse than you had for the past two days.

even if your sore throat was mostly gone, you heaved out a couple of dry coughs as you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket, shivering in the cold that surrounded the room (courtesy of your comfort, unable to sleep comfortably otherwise even if it worsened your current condition), and on top of that your head was softly throbbing. not wanting to deal with it, you decided to lay back completely to soothe the pain.

your nose was stuffy and runny at the same time, reaching for some tissues on the bedside table to wipe away at it, not before sneezing a couple of times and sniffling afterwards— it was so sensitive today for some reason.

you let out a deep sigh, soft breaths escaping from your mouth as you couldn't breathe comfortably from your nose.

how did it get worse? sure, you only took medicine once yesterday instead of every couple of hours like you were supposed to, but seriously, it was just a sore throat and a small fever!

you sighed, irritated that you were still sick. weren't you supposed to be the one with a good immune system? you and caleb often argued about it, and if he were here, he would surely use this as a point that his was better.

the yearning for his presence bit into the silence of the room as you laid comfortably on your back, shutting your eyes once again as your shallow breaths evened out.

you thought about getting up, washing your face and then making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some tea, and then something to eat so that you could take your medicine and then proceed to rest- something caleb would already be doing for you the moment he'd realize you were sick.

but he wasn't here right now, and even though you'd seen his moments posts about being out with friends, you had no plan to worry him when this was just a little cold.

you thought about it- you were hungry after all, and you wanted something warm to soothe your throat, but just the idea of going all the way down and doing all of that at the moment in your state was tiring.

but, you had taken care of yourself for the past two days like this. what was another?

you opened your eyes, pulled yourself up with a groan, swung your legs over the edge of the bed to slip on your slippers, slipped on the closest sweater and slowly padded your way to the bathroom, leaning against the wall for balance as your headache and sick haze had you dizzy and unsteady on your feet.

you washed up without much of a hitch, and when you exited the bathroom, you thought you heard a door close.

huh?

you thought it might be your mind playing tricks on you. after all, you were at home by yourself and weren't expecting anyone (even if you yearned for someone, the stray thought of him being here leaving you as soon as it came), and you couldn't think of anyone that would stop by on a random wednesday who also happened to have a key to your place.

you shook your head, pocketing your phone as you padded down the way towards the living room, pausing at the faint sound of the television being on- had you left it on?- before proceeding towards the kitchen.

you froze at the sound of light humming coming from your kitchen, feet subconsciously carrying your slightly swaying body closer at the pleasant smell of food wafting towards your nose, completely disregarding a certain bag laying at the end of the empty sofa.

your footsteps must've been heavier than you thought because before you could fully enter the kitchen, the person in question turned around, staring straight at you, spatula in his hand and smile stretching across his face.

"morning, sleepyhead."

you tilted your head.

"caleb?" you whispered.

"surprised?"

you took a few steps closer, heart pounding with excitement but managing to keep your distance due to your illness.

"what are you-"

"hey."

his playful smile quickly morphs into a look of concern as he studies your face, noticing your shallow breaths, quiet voice and slightly-swaying body.

"pipsqueak, are you sick?"

you jolt, looking off to the side.

"not really, its just—"

you startle at his free hand brushing your bangs from your head and resting on your forehead.

"hey! i don't have a fever, i'm fine—"

"your voice is mostly gone," he deadpans.

"that's—"

"how long have you been sick??" his look is full of concern, voice laced with worry.

"just the past two days.."

"two days? and you didn't think to tell me?"

"it was just a sore throat at first!"

"and you're telling me this is still just that?"

before you can answer you're interrupted, bringing up your sleeved arm up to cover the lower half of your face to sneeze twice into it before sniffling.

you put your sleeved arm down and sigh.

"bless you," he says, taking a once over if your state before placing a hand on your lower back.

"here, i made you breakfast, just- sit down, i'll get you everything."

"that's okay, i wanted to—"

"i have water ready for tea if that's what you're after, just sit down, i'll bring it to you."

he says it in a way that almost feels like he's scolding you, and you can't help but to obey and trudge over to the closest seat at the dining table, secretly grateful since your head was hurting more now.

you momentarily rest your head on the cool surface, missing the frown that adorns caleb's face at seeing you in such a weakened state.

he knew how prideful you were when it came to your wellbeing, and he also knew how, for as little as it happened, sick you got when you did succumb to illness.

luckily, from a surface level it didn't look too bad, and the duration wasn't anywhere near severe-level yet. he was sure it was something plenty of rest and medicine would help with.

which is when he vowed, while filling your plate and pouring the steaming water into your favorite mug with a green tea bag resting inside, that he would be the one to nurse you back to health himself.

just like he used to.

-

"that's way too many, caleb!"

"i'm not letting you leave until you take em' all."

"is this really necessary??"

"lingering sore throat, mild fever, headache, stuffy and runny nose, sneezing, dry cough. did i miss anything?"

"no.."

"then yes, this is all necessary. it's not even that much!"

"caleb, there's five different pills sitting in front of me. i am not swallowing all of that!"

"haven't you swallowed more than just this before?"

"caleb!"

you smack his arm and he lets out a hearty laugh— one that you're grateful to see (despite it being at your expense), given he's mostly been overcome with concern— before looking over the medicines again.

"fine, fine, here."

one hand drags an orange pill away towards him.

"how about now?"

you deadpan.

"you're joking, right?" you sniffle.

"that's the best i can do, pipsqueak. now hurry up and take them."

you let out a groan, but reach for the largest pill first.

"do i really—"

"yes," he crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat. "i won't say it again."

you sigh, taking a small sip of tea before slipping the pill between your lips, tipping your head back before taking multiple large gulps of your tea to help its descent.

caleb nods, uncurling his hands and reaching for his utensil to grab some rice.

"good girl, now eat some more and take the rest," he instructs, shoving the rice into his mouth.

you're about to speak but are interrupted by a small sneeze.

"bless you."

you pout at him.

he points to your plate with his chopsticks.

"eat."

"you're lucky your food is so good..." you trail off, shoveling some eggs into your mouth, delight quickly filling you at the flavor of such a simple food item.

the cycle repeats: caleb watching you take sips of your tea and shoveling small bites of food into your mouth before pushing the next pill towards you until they're all gone.

in no time at all, both of your plates are empty. he takes yours from in front of you as you sip on the remainder of your tea, nodding when he asks if you're finished before taking them away to the sink.

you watch as he rolls up his sleeves and makes quick work to wash the plates, utensils, and the kitchenware he'd used, mesmerized by the familiar movements but willing to watch again and again all the same.

once he was finished and the dishes were properly put away, he dries his hands, walking back over to you and feeling your forehead again.

"hmm.. not too warm. how are you feeling right now? are you cold?"

you nod your head, and he gently pats the top of it. you close your eyes in response, the gesture soothing to you.

he grins.

always so cute...

"we should get you back to bed," he murmurs, bending down to your level. "want gege to carry you?"

you crack your eyes open and shake your head, prompting him to tilt his in question.

"i don't want you tripping on the way to your room if you're still dizzy, pipsqueak—"

"i don't wanna go to my room," you cut him off.

"can't i rest near you?" you peer up at him, hope filled in your droopy eyes, and something about that hits him.

you'd been on your own feeling like crap the past two days (now onto the third) and, knowing you, haven't been taking proper care of yourself, prompting the sickness to become what it is now.

no one could guarantee that you'd been eating properly, taking the proper medicine and on time, and most of all, not trying to work while in this state.

his heart feels heavy at the thought, but at his prolonged silence and hard stare, you shift your gaze behind him, embarrassed, and speak up again.

"or— i've already caused you enough trouble, right? this is supposed to be your time off and i've worried you enough... so i'll go back to my room! i wouldn't want to get you si—"

"no, no, no," he quickly cuts you off, swiftly shaking his head before grabbing onto your shoulders.

"pipsqueak, when have i ever denied you of your wishes?"

you sniffle. he did have a point...

"and besides, it's my job to worry about you, ya know?"

"so come on, let me carry you to the couch, yeah? we can put on whatever you like until you fall asleep."

you smile, ever so grateful at how caleb loved to spoil you.

you move to stand up and barely feel your feet hit the ground for half a second before you're easily scooped into caleb's arms, laughing at the sudden gesture before he walks towards the living room with you.

"caleb! i could've—"

"nope, you really couldn't have. i saw the way you trudged through the kitchen earlier, pipsqueak. you looked like you'd fall over if i so much as blew on you."

you look away, small pout adorning your lips, sniffling again.

"s' not my fault... don't even know how i got sick this time."

"maybe cause you missed me so much?

"yeah, maybe."

his heart throbs at your honesty, plopping down on the couch with you before smiling.

"so i guess this means i've got the better immune system, huh?"

"ugh, i knew you'd bring that up..."

he chuckles, letting you adjust in his hold as you use his lap as a pillow.

"whaddya wanna watch, pipsqueak?"

"dunno," you yawn. "just see what's on right now."

you watch as he looks around for the remote, pointing at it being just out of reach on the coffee table. you're about to offer to grab it before you see the strings of his evol grip onto it, bringing it into his hand before he catches it with ease and begins flipping through the channels.

"cheater," you tease quietly, letting out a small laugh at his use of his evol.

"hm?" he catches your words, humming thoughtfully in response, eyes glued to the television.

"you say that, but i remember a certain hunter practically crying under my evol while begging me to—"

"c-caleb!"

he laughs at the way you try to swat at him as you're laying down, settling for a small thwap! on his thigh instead.

"sorry, sorry," he says nonchalantly, loving how easily riled up he could get you at the mention your bedroom activities.

"here," he says, free hand finding its way to your head, softly massaging at your scalp.

"this a good enough apology?" he asks, only earning pleased mewls from you in response.

he smiles fondly in response, pleased at your little noises and the way you nuzzle into him further, resembling a satisfied cat that just filled its belly and was ready for its afternoon nap.

he eventually lands on a channel with a classic favorite movie for the both of you, setting the remote down and using his now-free hand to rub soothing circles into your back.

"you know, wearing my clothes while you're sick is a little selfish, don't you think?"

"s' warm," you mumble, slowly being lulled to sleep by his ministrations.

"and comfy. smells like you..."

even though he teased you, he always felt his heart grow fuller at the sight of you in his clothes, and he felt some amount of pride that it was the first thing you'd reached for even in your current state.

"yeah? i guess i can forgive you," he whispers, evol reaching for the nearest blanket to drape it over your lower half.

in the edges of slumber, you can feel a kiss being planted on the side of your head, but you don't have the energy to reprimand him for doing such a thing and risk himself getting sick.

he sits back up, watching you fondly as he continues his comforting ministrations.

"get well soon, okay? ill be right here when you wake up."

even after he was sure you were sleeping, he continued his gentle caresses, comforted by the fact that you were there with him, and that he could keep a close eye on you.

so long as you were under caleb's care, you would be okay; that was something he would always make sure of.

-

extra:

half-paying attention to the movie on screen, he was already planning a soup to make you when his phone buzzed beside him.

it was a message from a friend of his.

wanna grab a bite later? my treat! some others will be joining too.

grateful for the offer, he messaged back quickly.

can't, playing nurse for my cute girlfriend tonight~

aw, next time, then!

he placed his phone back down, looking back at you and brushing stray hair out of your face as he thought back to your words.

"can't i rest near you?"

you'd looked so helpless, almost like you were expecting him to refuse you and make you rest by yourself, but eyes holding a lingering hope anyway as they peered into his soul.

his heart is full, his eyes are full of mirth, lips curling lovingly.

silly girl...

there's nowhere he'd rather be than here, right beside you—

whether you were ill or perfectly healthy.

always.

and he would make sure you never felt the burden of illness by yourself so long as he could help it.

-

a/n: i'm sick and couldn't help but imagine the l&ds men taking care of me ,and namely imagined caleb nursing me back to health so here we are. caleb come home!

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕆𝕟𝕖: 𝔹𝕣𝕒𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: cheating on spouse (Sofia), age gap (Rafe is her bestfriend’s dad), manipulation, swearing, name calling, pet names, jealous Rafe, choking, spitting, rough sex, pussy slapping, mean!Rafe, ownership kink, degredation

📖 Hooking up with your best friend’s dad only to flirt with Topper at the holiday party, what could go wrong? Rafe will let you know (<- part of the “mr cameron” au but it will be written to be read alone)

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

“Mr. Cameron, please…” you whine as you crawl closer to him on the hotel bed. “I was only flirting with him to get your attention. What? You can't handle a little teasing?”

“Topper is always watchin’ you, princess. But, you know that. Right? M’sure you do,” he delivers his words in a biting tone, veiled in sweetness that makes the hair on your arms stand straight. Rafe throws his shirt off his toned body, raking his fingers through his hair as your bottom lip pokes out in a pout. “Enough. You’re not gettin’ shit from me,” he clips as he unbuckles his belt.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I said ‘enough!” He shouts, stopping you before you can continue, his deep voice bellowing in your chest, making you shrink. Rafe sinks into his pillow before turning off the light.

“Baby, please…” You whisper as you creep close, resting on top of him, body huddled against his. “I had to watch you all night with Sofia… I just got jealous. I just – I wanted you to see me,” you whisper. “I need you…”

Rafe shrugs you off, bullying you to your side of the bed as heat rises behind your eyes, tears brimming as you try your best not to “cry.”

Stepping off the bed, you slip out of your dress, letting it fall off your frame, exposing your lingerie set.

Sure, Rafe has a jealous streak, but you didn’t think this is how tonight would end. You just wanted to rile him up a little bit… Maybe flirting with his best friend was a little much…

You walk toward the bed, trying your best to change his mind. “Let me make it up to you, Daddy. Please,” you whisper as you reach out for him. Rafe grabs you, forcing you against the mattress, making you gasp in surprise. He tacks your hand above your head, grip tightening as his blue eyes narrow on yours.

“You know what you are to me? Huh? You’re just a hole, my pretty little plaything, a fucktoy that I choose to keep around. I don’t care that you need me. I don’t give a fuck that you want to make it up to me. You made me angry. And now you’re not gettin’ shit.”

You feel a steady pulsing between your thighs as you look into his beautiful eyes, his mouth spitting nothing but vile words. His gaze trails your frame, wetting his lip hungrily, eyeing your breasts, pressed into lacey lingerie, a little garter belt snatched around your waist. “You don’t mean that, Mr. Cameron,” you whisper tauntingly.

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean,” he snarls as his blown pupils match your own. “Suppose you wore this for me. Huh? Thought I fuck this pussy just like you like?” Rafe slaps between your thighs, making you squeak in sensitivity. “Crotchless? Really? N’you wore these to a Christmas party? The fuck is wrong with you? Did you think you’d get lucky, sweetheart? Couldn’t even waste time lettin’ me take ’em off. Wearin’ ’em like the skank you are. Hmm? Good ‘n wet whenever I want it? Such a fuckin’ slut; you’re a mess. M’not gettin’ anywhere near this slut pussy, and neither are you. Understand?”

“Yes…” You sniffle, watching his hardened gaze crack slightly as you get emotional, even if it’s all an act.

“Get to sleep. Leave me the fuck alone. This was supposed to be a romantic night n’you ruined it. Don’t even think about touchin’ yourself. Yeah?” Rafe rolls back to his side again, tucking himself away as you bury yourself in the sheets.

You peer over the covers, listening to Rafe grumble and groan as he battles with his pride, and the rational part of his brain tells him all you want is his attention. He draws a deep, frustrated breath, blowing it out nice and slow.

“Fuck it.” Rafe mounts you fast, spreading your pussy, before pushing inside. You release a breathy cry, filled to the hilt with him; his heavy balls resting against your ass. He buries himself in your neck, forcing himself as deep as he can go. “I don’t fucking share.” He drags his long, thick cock out nice and slow, snapping his hips again, making you wail. “And, I don’t like people lookin’ at what’s mine. You're not lookin’ at Thornton again. Understand? He's not an option for you. I am your only fuckin’ option.”

“M’sorry, baby,” you pant, trapping your plump bottom lip between your teeth as you look up at him innocently.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked. You like gettin’ yelled at? You like bein’ called a little fucktoy?”

“Yes,” you stammer. “M’your fucktoy, Rafe. I'm anything you want.”

“Cock-hungry slut,” he hisses as he pulls out, thrusting rougher, making you moan as you feel his fat cock fill you completely. Rafe wraps his arms around your ass, picking you up, lifting your hips off the bed, rutting roughly into your greedy cunt. The sloppy sounds of your pussy and lewd groans bouncing off the walls.

Rafe slings your legs over his shoulders, pressing himself into you nice and slow. He rocks his dick deep, watching your eyes roll back as he drags out. “You think Top could fuck you like this?”

“No… I don’t. And, I don’t think about Topper, Rafe,” you whimper, voice hoarse and weak.

“Who do you think about, princess?” He drawls as he takes your ankles in his hands, drawing them straight in the air, using them as a pull to fuck you deeper.

“You! Only you, daddy.”

He wipes the smirk off his face, hardening his appearance again. Rafe spreads your legs a little wider, pushing them into the comforter before spitting on your clit; slapping your pussy again.

“Fuck, Rafe!” You scream, making him chuckle wickedly. His body slaps against yours, his other hand wrapping tightly around your throat. You close your walls around him, causing Rafe to throw his head back in pleasure.

“Whose pussy is this?” He moans breathlessly. Your eyes roll back in your head, too cockdrunk to force out the words you both want to hear. “Whose fuckin’ pussy is this?” He snarls, tightening his hold around your neck, an unrelenting cadence as you feel your pleasure near its peak.

“Yours!” You choke, feeling your pulse under his hand as your eyes flutter shut.

“Does my little cockslut wanna cum. Huh? You need it, princess?” You try to speak, but his grasp is too tight. He lets up, delivering a stinging slap to your cheek as you reach for air. “I said, ‘Does my little cockslut want my cum?’”

“Y-Yes. Yes. Please, Daddy.”

“I could stop right fuckin’ now,” He taunts.

“Don’t stop. Please,” you cry.

“Cum for me then. Let me fuckin’ have it,” he grunts, punctuating every word with a slamming thrust as he works his fingers even quicker, pushing you over the edge.

Your body flutters around his cock as Rafe moans your name, flooding you with his seed, panting through jagged breaths as he continues to work you through your climax. His eyes shut heavily as he feels you relax around him.

He wraps himself in you, nestling into the crook of your neck. The two of you reach for a breath, hearts banging against each other. He draws back not soon after, his lust-drunk eyes meeting yours.

“Don’t fuckin’ do that shit again,” he warns. Silence and sex hangs heavy in the air as he waits for you to reply.

“…but you fucked me so good,” you whisper.

He scoffs and sucks his teeth, displeased with your answer. “You’re a goddamn mess. You know that?” He mumbles as he tilts in, kissing your neck, where his big hand had squeezed. “Just ask me to be rough with you, and I’ll toss you around. Aight?”

“But I like when you get angry,” you sigh as your long fingernails scratch down his muscular back.

“Well, you succeeded. You're a fuckin’ brat,” he mutters as he brushes his lips against your ear. “M’serious about Thornton, though… That shit pissed me the fuck off. And it’s not gonna happen twice.”

You draw away, cupping his cheek as you brush his stubble with your thumb. “I know it did,” you whisper. “N’I could tell you I’m sorry. But that would be a lie,” you smile, with a taunting twinkle in your eye that has him rolling his away.

“You’re unbelievable,” he drones. Rafe rolls you on top, his half-hard cock stiffening again at your defiance. He wraps his big, strong arms around your body, holding you close. “You’re mine.”

“For the moment,” you whisper as you meet his soft lips.

“Stop,” he warns, knowing he's never truly in control.

“Make me.”

[luv-lock]

⸻ ꜱ ᴘ ɪ ᴅ ᴇ ʀ ɢ ɪ ʀ ʟ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere Batfam x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How is your relationship with batfam in general?

Notes: Reader is a pervert. Reader have the same abilities as spiderman. Again another silly fic that should not be taken seriously. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

At 22, you were a far cry from the scrappy little thief Bruce and Dick had caught all those years ago. Sure, you were still crass, still brutally honest, and still had a penchant for letting your intrusive thoughts win, but now? Now you were hot.

Like, objectively hot. Your tight black spider suit left very little to the imagination, clinging to every curve and muscle as you swung through the city. And you loved every second of it. The attention? Oh, the attention was your lifeblood. You basked in it like a lizard in the sun.

Dick was still wearing those tight pants, wasn’t he? You couldn’t help but stare. I mean, seriously, the guy had a killer ass. You were supposed to be on a mission, but all you could think about was how the suit hugged his figure in ways that made you forget everything except your growing thoughts. You even compared your ass to his when he wasn’t looking—just to make sure you were still in the running for the Best Butt in Gotham.

“Hey, Grayson,” you called out, voice dripping with amusement. He turned his head slightly, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Nice ass.” You grinned, winking.

He blinked. “What?” He stopped walking and spun around, completely thrown off by your bluntness.

“Oh, nothing, just admiring the view,” you shrugged, taking a step forward and pretending to actually pay attention to the mission. His cheeks turned red, but you didn’t care. You were busy eyeing his backside like it was a prize you were about to claim.

You convinced Dick to teach you yoga, but it wasn’t for flexibility—it was so you could watch him stretch.

“Wow, Dick,” you said, laying on the mat and pretending to follow his moves. “You’re really… bendy.”

He flushed. “It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not,” you teased, snapping a quick photo of him in a compromising pose. “This one’s going on the Batfam group chat.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare!”

You were bleeding out. Your side was burning, your vision blurry, and yet you were having the time of your life. Why? Because Jason Todd—walking sex god and part-time vigilante—was carrying you in his arms like you were a damsel in distress.

“Don’t worry,” Jason said, sprinting through an alley as explosions sounded in the distance. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine.”

You stared up at him, dazed but grinning. “You’re so pretty.”

“Y/N, stay awake,” Jason barked.

“I’m awake my angel,” you slurred. Your eyes drifted downward to his broad chest, the tight shirt doing little to hide the muscle underneath. You reached out, resting a hand on his pec. “You got...man boobs.”

Jason groaned. “You're hallucinating, stay awake please.”

“They’re perfect,” you whispered, leaning closer. And then—because you were you—you bit him.

Jason skidded to a stop, staring at you in disbelief. “Did you just—”

“I couldn’t help it,” you said, grinning despite the blood trickling down your chin. “They’re so biteable.”

You discovered Jason was ticklish purely by accident, and you never let him live it down. Anytime he annoyed you, you’d jab him in the ribs or poke his sides until he squirmed.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he growled, swatting at your hands.

“You wish,” you said, chasing him around the room.

The rest of the Batfam watched in stunned silence as Jason “Red Hood” Todd ran from you like a child.

You declared the Batcave chair yours one day and refused to let anyone else sit in it.

“It’s my throne,” you said, lounging dramatically as the others stood around, glaring.

“Get up,” Jason said, crossing his arms.

“Make me,” you replied, sticking your tongue out.

He grabbed you, but instead of throwing you out, you ended up on his lap, smirking. “Guess this works too.”

Anytime you were in the middle of a Dick and Jason argument, you somehow always ended up physically between them. And, oh, you weren’t complaining.

“Move, Dickhead,” Jason growled, pushing into your right shoulder, his broad chest pressing into the side of your face.

“Not a chance, Hood,” Dick snapped, leaning in on your other side, his own muscular frame trapping you against Jason.

You? You just stood there, smiling like a cat with a bowl of cream. “Ooh, I love this. It’s like being sandwiched between two very attractive brick walls.”

“What?!” they shouted in unison.

Jason shot Dick a death glare. “See what you did? You’re giving her ideas.”

“Me? You’re the one pressing into her like some kind of Neanderthal!”

You just smirked, leaning back into the tension. “Don’t mind me, boys. Please, continue. This is very entertaining.”

Dick was your favorite pillow, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime you were hanging out in the Batcave, you’d just casually rest your head on his shoulder or lean against his chest.

“Comfortable?” he asked, chuckling softly.

“Very,” you replied, closing your eyes.

He smiled, wrapping an arm around you. “Good.”

You peeked up at him, grinning. “You know, you make a great pillow. Very firm, but also soft in the right places.”

Dick laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” you said, smirking.

Dick’s ass was basically your personal stress ball at this point. It didn’t matter if you were on a mission, in the Batcave, or just walking through Gotham—if the opportunity presented itself, you’d take it.

SMACK!

“Jesus, Y/N!” Dick would jump, spinning around, his cheeks flushed.

“What?” you’d say innocently, shrugging. “It’s just so perfect. You work hard for that, right? I’m just appreciating the effort.”

He’d sigh, rubbing his neck, but you knew he secretly loved it.

Jason’s chest was another favorite of yours, especially when he was shirtless (which, let’s face it, happened a lot). You’d walk up to him, your fingers twitching, and—pinch!

“Damn it, Y/N!” Jason would glare at you, rubbing the spot where you’d gotten him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” you’d say with a cheeky grin. “Just checking if these are real.”

He’d groan, shaking his head, but you’d catch the tiny smirk he tried to hide.

You loved teasing, and nothing was off-limits. During a mission, your suit "mysteriously" ripped—right in front of Jason and Dick.

“Oh no,” you said innocently, looking over your shoulder at the tear just below your back. “Guess I’ll have to fix this later.”

Jason’s jaw tightened. “Y/N, stop.”

Dick looked away, flustered. “Maybe cover it up or something?”

“Why? You guys can’t handle a little skin?” You smirked, adjusting your suit to make it worse.

Jason grumbled, “I’m about to shoot that suit off you if you don’t stop playing.”

You had zero shame. Once, during a stakeout with Dick, you leaned over and kissed him right in the middle of his report to Bruce.

“Nightwing, report—” Bruce’s voice came over the comms, but you cut Dick off with your lips, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Y/N!” he protested, his face red as he tried to pull away. “Bruce can hear us!”

“So?” you replied, shrugging as you went in for another kiss.

The first time you met Superman, you were not prepared.

“Y/N, this is Clark Kent,” Bruce said, his tone clipped as ever. “He’s Superman.”

You blinked up at the man of steel, all 6’4” of farm-boy perfection, and immediately zeroed in on one thing: the bulge.

You weren’t subtle about it either. Your eyes widened slightly as you stared, your head tilting to the side like you were trying to calculate something.

Clark, oblivious, smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you. Bruce has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered, still staring. “Damn, you’re packing. Your wife must be so lucky.”

The room went silent. Bruce closed his eyes, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm. Clark cleared his throat, cheeks turning bright red.

“What—what does that mean?” Superman asked, clearly flustered.

“Oh, nothing,” you said, shrugging. “Just making an observation. By the way, you ever need help with Lois, let me know. I’m excellent at teamwork.”

Bruce groaned audibly in the background.

“Anyway,” he stammered, shifting awkwardly, “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Damian and Jon.”

You didn’t hear a word he said.

Poor Tim. Sweet, awkward Tim. He didn’t deserve you, and yet you tormented him at every opportunity.

You were taller than him, which you used to your advantage constantly. One day, after a successful mission, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pulling him into a tight hug. Your boobs pressed against the back of his head, and you could feel him stiffen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Good boy,”

“Y/N,” he croaked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Hmm?”

“Let go.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“LET GO!”

Tim was your little puppy, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime he looked stressed (which was, like, always), you’d grab him by the shoulders and pull him down onto your lap.

“Shhh,” you’d coo, stroking his hair while he sat there stiff as a board. “You’re working too hard, Timmy. Just relax.”

He’d blush furiously, stammering out a protest, but you’d silence him with a kiss to his forehead.

“Good boy,” you’d whisper, your voice soft but teasing. “You’re doing great.”

Poor Tim would be a mess, his face redder than Jason’s helmet, but you didn’t care. It was adorable.

Jason walked in once and nearly gagged. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”

When you first met Damian, you were charmed. Not by his skill, or his intellect, or his reputation as the Demon’s Son. No, you were charmed because he looked like an angry little bird.

He’d just finished beating the crap out of Tim in the training room when you walked in.

“Who is this?” Damian demanded, glaring at you.

You clasped your hands together, grinning. “Aww, you’re so cute!”

Damian bristled. “I am not cute! I am an assassin!”

You squealed, bouncing on your heels. “Look at him! He’s like a tiny murder pigeon!”

Tim, still lying on the mat, muttered, “Please kill me.”

“So adorable,” you said, holding your hands together in a “squee” motion, jumping up and down like a fangirl. “I didn’t know you were so mad! Look at you, little angry pookie!”

Damian, of course, was not impressed. “Shut up, woman.”

But you? You couldn’t stop giggling. “You’re, like, a pocket-sized villain. So cute.”

Since then, you’d taken to treating Damian like a literal baby. You’d sit him on your lap, spoon-feed him during meals, and ruffle his hair at every opportunity.

Damian was your baby, no matter how much he tried to argue otherwise. You gave him the most attention—whether it was ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks, or straight-up kissing him on the forehead during missions.

“Y/N, cease this nonsense!” he’d shout, trying to push you away.

“Aw, but you’re so cute,” you’d tease, holding his face in your hands.

Damian would glare, but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. You knew he secretly loved it, especially when you called him your “adorable angry bird.”

Jon Kent adored you. But when he let it slip in front of Damian?

“Y/N is… well, she’s amazing,” Jon had said shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

Damian froze, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”

“Uh, nothing!” Jon backpedaled, but Damian was already chasing him across the Batcave, sword in hand.

“YOU THINK YOU HAVE A CHANCE?!” Damian yelled as Jon flew for his life.

Bruce wasn’t immune to your antics either. You’d long since dropped the “old man” or “Bruce” in favor of something much more fun: “Daddy.”

“Good work tonight, Y/N,” Bruce said one evening, his tone professional.

You leaned against the Batcomputer, smirking. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Bruce froze, his eye twitching slightly.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? You always been my suger daddy, it's only make sense if I call you daddy.”

He walked away without another word.

You made it your life mission to annoy Bruce whenever possible. During one of his infamous brooding sessions in the Batcave, you casually walked up to him, poked his nose, and said, “Boop.”

He froze, slowly turning to glare at you. “Don’t.”

“Boop,” you repeated, doing it again.

Dick and Tim were in hysterics in the background, and Jason muttered, “She’s got a death wish.”

Bruce, exhausted, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why am I not surprised?”

It started as a joke. You stole one of Bruce’s button-up shirts and wore it around the Manor. Now it was a regular occurrence, much to Bruce’s annoyance.

“That’s mine,” he’d say.

“Yup, and it’s comfy,” you’d reply, lounging on the couch.

Once, during a mission debrief, you leaned on the table and purred, “What’s the plan, Daddy?”

Jason choked on his drink, Dick coughed awkwardly, and Tim turned bright red.

Bruce didn’t even look up. “I will ground you.”

“Kinky,” you replied with a grin.

You had a thing for flirting with dangerous villains, and the Batfam hated it.

“I could totally take Deathstroke,” you said once after a fight.

“He tried to kill you!” Jason snapped.

“Yeah, but did you see the way he looked at me? Sparks, I tell you. Also who said I was talking about fighting?”

“She’s insane,” Damian muttered, but you just shrugged.

During a fight with the Joker, you’d stopped mid-battle to tilt your head and give him an appraising look.

“Y’know,” you said, webbing one of his henchmen to the wall. “You’d be kinda hot if you didn’t look like a corpse. Ever thought about skincare?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Dick had yelled, dodging a swing from Harley Quinn.

“SHUT UP!” you shot back. “I CAN FIX HIM!”

Despite all the chaos and teasing, there’s a hidden, vulnerable side to you that craves attention—not just the kind that’s lustful, but the caring kind.

After a long night of missions, you’ll often crash in the Batcave. The family can be in the middle of an intense discussion or debriefing, but you’ll barge in, throw yourself onto Tim, and use his lap as a pillow.

Jason will grumble and say something about you “acting like a child,” but then you'll casually climb onto his back, burrowing your face into his shoulder as you cling to him.

Of course, Bruce just looks away like he’s done with all of you, but deep down, he knows that if he even tried to stop it, the whole family would turn on him. You're the glue holding them all together.

Main Headcanon

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.