#about him in that way with how easy it is for her to push him aside LMFAO

[rafecameronssl4t]

Bad at love || Frat boy!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Sleeping with your enemy’s boyfriend was reckless, but what’s worse is the undeniable pull between you both afterward—a dangerous attraction that refuses to be ignored.

Warnings: cheating, suggestive content

Word count: 3,373

A/n: I actually didn't have much of plot line when I started this but I just kept on writing and writing... ALSO doesn’t this ong give major frat boy!rafe vibes?

MASTERLIST (frat boy!rafe x reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“And you missed Saturday’s practice, which was so important!” Katie’s sharp voice cuts through the chatter of the crowded party as she steps in front of you, arms crossed tightly. Her blue eyes burn with frustration, but you’re barely paying her any attention, your focus shifting to the drink table behind her. With a sigh, you roll your eyes and turn away, brushing her off without a word.

Her tone grows more demanding, her voice rising above the background noise. “You can’t keep missing practices like this! If you keep it up, I’ll have no choice but to kick you off the team.” The irritation in her voice is palpable, her stance stiff with authority she doesn’t seem to realise she’s lost. At her words, you can’t help the mocking scoff that escapes your lips.

Slowly, you turn back to face her, tilting your head as you look down at the shorter blonde. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, Katie?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re not captain anymore, remember?” Her face flushes red, her anger mounting, but you don’t give her a chance to reply. Shouldering past her, you mutter, “Move,” as though she’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience in your path.

“I’m not done talking to you!” she yells after you, her voice carrying above the noise. “Well, I am,” you call back coolly without looking over your shoulder, throwing a dismissive wave in her direction. “Have fun, Katie!” The smirk on your face grows as you reach the kitchen, leaving her fuming in the middle of the room. You shake your head, exhaling as you grab a fresh drink, relieved to be away from her relentless nagging.

~

You lean against the counter in the kitchen, taking a sip of the drink you just poured, the alcohol beginning to blur the edges of your irritation. Katie’s voice still rings in your ears, but the buzz in your system makes it easier to push aside. She always did have a way of making everything about her, and you weren’t in the mood to entertain it tonight. Spinning around to head back to the party, you stumble slightly, your drink sloshing in the cup as you collide with a broad chest.

“Woah, easy there,” a smooth, amused voice says as a strong hand steadies your arm. Looking up, your hazy gaze meets Rafe Cameron’s sharp blue eyes, the smirk on his face almost as cocky as his usual demeanor. The dim lighting catches on his perfectly styled hair and the faint gold chain resting against his collarbone. He was the frat president, and Katie’s boyfriend, of course. Not that you’d ever paid much attention to him—until now.

“Rafe,” you mumble, your voice slurring just slightly as you step back, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Didn’t see you there.” “Clearly,” he teases, his hand lingering on your arm for a beat too long before he lets go. “You alright? You’re looking a little… tipsy.” His smirk widens, eyes scanning your face with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skips under his gaze.

“I’m fine. Just needed a drink to deal with your girlfriend.” His brow raises at that, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Katie giving you hell again?” He says, his mouth curling into that boyish grin “You could say that,” you mutter, taking another sip of your drink. “She’s always got something to say. Like I’m supposed to care about her opinion.” Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm, and it sends a strange thrill down your spine.

“Yeah, well, Katie’s got a… particular way of handling things. I usually just let her win the argument—it’s easier that way.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Sounds exhausting.” “It is,” he admits with a shrug, leaning casually against the counter beside you. “But she’s Katie. You know how she is.” His voice carries a mix of exasperation and fondness, but there’s something else there too—something you can’t quite place.

“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” you say dryly, though your eyes linger on him longer than they should. The alcohol is making you bolder, loosening your inhibitions as you study his sharp jawline, the way his lips quirk into an easy smirk. “What about you?” he asks suddenly, tilting his head. “What’s your excuse for being here, drinking like it’s your job tonight?” You shrug, leaning against the counter beside him.

“Needed a break. From life. From her.” You glance up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small smirk. “Guess you’d understand that better than anyone.” His laugh is softer this time, almost genuine, and he shifts a little closer. “Maybe I do.” The conversation lingers, the tension between you growing with each passing second. The party outside feels like a distant hum, your attention locked solely on him.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else entirely, but when his hand brushes against yours, neither of you pulls away. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in closer, and so is he. His lips hover near yours, his breath warm and intoxicating. “This… probably isn’t a good idea,” he murmurs, though his tone lacks conviction. “Probably not,” you whisper back, but neither of you moves to stop it.

The kiss is electric, a mix of pent-up frustration and reckless abandon. It’s messy and heated, your hands finding their way to his hair as his grip tightens on your waist. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to stumble out of the kitchen, his arm around your waist as he leads you upstairs, away from prying eyes. By the time you reach the bedroom, logic is a distant memory, lost in the haze of alcohol and the magnetic pull between you.

~

“Rafe,” you whisper, your voice barely steady as you lie back against the pillow, your chest still heaving. Turning your head, you catch him already staring at you, his blue eyes darker than usual, shadowed with an emotion you can’t quite read. Your stomach twists, and the weight of what just happened starts to settle in. “I think we’re fucked.”

Your words hang heavy in the air, cutting through the stillness of the room. You groan, sitting up and burying your face in your hands for a moment before glancing around for your clothes. The reality of what you’ve done is pounding at the edges of your hazy mind. Rafe exhales sharply beside you, dragging a hand through his tousled hair as he leans back against the headboard.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice low, almost resigned. “No shit.” The awkward shuffle of finding your clothes fills the silence. You spot your skirt crumpled on the floor and grab it, the fabric catching slightly as you pull it up your legs. A nervous chuckle escapes your lips as you fumble with the zipper, your hands trembling. “If Katie finds out about this…” you start, the words catching in your throat.

Rafe rubs his forehead, his expression darkening. “I know,” he groans, his tone sharp with frustration—at himself, at you, at the entire situation. Throwing the sheets off his lap, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his jeans. “I know, alright?” You glance at him as he dresses, his movements brisk and tense, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscle twitch.

The easy confidence he usually wears like a second skin is gone, replaced with something rawer. “This was so stupid,” you mutter, more to yourself than him, tugging your top over your head and smoothing it down. You take a shaky breath, pressing your lips together as the full weight of your actions hits you. “What the hell were we thinking?”

Rafe scoffs softly, shaking his head as he zips his jeans. “We weren’t thinking,” he says flatly, his voice edged with self-loathing. “That’s the fucking problem.” For a moment, you just stand there, staring at him. The silence between you is suffocating, heavy with unspoken words and the growing weight of regret. The distant hum of the party downstairs feels surreal, like it belongs to another world entirely.

“I can’t believe I let this happen,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe looks up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You’re not the only one,” he says quietly, his tone softer now, though there’s still a sharp edge to it. “I didn’t exactly stop it either.” His words don’t feel like comfort, but there’s an honesty to them that makes your chest tighten.

You press your fingers against your temples, trying to piece together a rational thought, but the alcohol still buzzing in your veins makes everything feel blurry and far away. “This can’t happen again,” you say firmly, breaking the silence. Your voice wavers slightly, but you push through, needing to set some kind of boundary before this spirals further. “You know that, right?”

Rafe doesn’t respond right away. He leans against the wall, dragging his hand down his face before meeting your gaze. His jaw works like he wants to argue, but finally, he nods. “Yeah,” he says simply, but the hesitation in his voice makes your stomach twist. His eyes linger on you, trailing over your face like he’s memorising it, and it makes you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you move toward the door. Your fingers curl around the handle, but you pause, glancing back at him. “We need to be careful,” you murmur, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “If she even suspects…”

“I’ll handle it,” he cuts you off, his tone firmer this time. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—determination, maybe—but it doesn’t do much to ease the knot in your chest. With a small nod, you turn and slip out into the hallway, the noise of the party growing louder as you descend the stairs.

The music and laughter feel like a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside you, and you can’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a drunken mistake. But as much as you tell yourself it’s over, the way your heart skips at the thought of him suggests otherwise.

~

“Want a lift?” The voice, low and unmistakably smug, pulls your attention away from your phone. You lift your head and squint into the afternoon sun to find Rafe sitting in his truck, leaning casually out of the window. His forearm rests on the edge of the door, his fingers tapping lazily against the metal. The faint smirk on his lips is one you’ve come to know all too well.

You blink, momentarily stunned, before narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me?” Rafe tilts his head, as if you hadn’t heard him correctly the first time. “I said, do you want a lift?” His tone is smooth, confident, like he’s entirely in control of the situation—and it’s already starting to get under your skin. You glance around quickly, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes dart over the school parking lot.

Your stomach churns as you spot the doors to the main building, half expecting Katie and her entourage to walk out at any moment. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?” you hiss, your voice low and sharp. Rafe doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by your reaction. If anything, the smirk on his face deepens. “What’s the problem? Need me to repeat myself again?”

Before you can fire back, the sound of doors opening grabs your attention. The distinct, high-pitched laughter of Katie and her friends echoes across the lot, sending a jolt of panic through you. Your stomach twists as your eyes lock onto them, walking out in a tight-knit group, their voices carrying. Katie, of course, is leading the pack, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight.

Your pulse quickens. Without thinking twice, you yank open the truck door and climb in, muttering, “Fucks sake,” as you scramble into the passenger seat. The door slams shut, and Rafe chuckles, the sound low and teasing as he shifts the truck into gear. “Well, that was easier than I thought,” he murmurs, the truck lurching forward as he hits the gas.

You glance over your shoulder, watching as Katie and her friends grow smaller in the distance. Relief washes over you, but it’s quickly replaced by the heat of embarrassment—and anger—as you snap your head back toward him. “What the hell, Rafe?” you spit, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. “Do you enjoy messing with people, or is it just some kind of hobby for you?”

Rafe glances at you, his smirk firmly in place. “I didn’t force you to get in,” he points out, his tone maddeningly casual. “You’re the one who panicked and dove into my truck like you were running from the cops.” You scoff, throwing him a glare. “I didn’t dive in. I—” You pause, clenching your jaw. “This is so typical of you. Showing up with your stupid truck, your stupid smirk—”

“My charm?” he cuts in, throwing you a sideways glance.“Your nerve,” you correct sharply, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrays you. Rafe laughs softly, the sound low and infuriatingly smug as he shifts gears and speeds up. The tension in the cab is palpable, thick enough to cut through, but he seems entirely at ease. His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Relax,” he drawls after a moment, his tone smooth and teasing. “You got away unnoticed. Katie’s none the wiser. You grit your teeth, turning your gaze out the window. The scenery blurs as the truck tears down the road, but the distant hum of the engine does little to settle your nerves. The weight of his attention is impossible to ignore, like a spotlight burning into the side of your face.

After a long pause, Rafe speaks again, his voice quieter now but still tinged with amusement. “You know, I didn’t think you’d actually get in.” You whip your head around to face him, your brow furrowing. “Then why did you ask?” He shrugs, one corner of his mouth quirking up in that maddening half-smile. “Call it a hunch. Figured you might surprise me.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. There’s something about the way he says it—like he’s already won some unspoken game—that makes your chest tighten. You shake your head, scoffing under your breath as you turn your gaze back to the road. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, though the words lack the bite you intended.

Rafe’s laugh rumbles softly beside you, and even though you hate to admit it, the sound sends a shiver down your spine. You press your lips into a thin line, determined not to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. “What were you even doing there? Were you following me?” you snap, narrowing your eyes as you turn toward him.

Rafe glances at you, his smirk deepening as if he finds your accusation amusing. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/l/n,” he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I was going to pick up Katie.” Your eyes widen in disbelief, your jaw dropping slightly. “You were going to pick up your girlfriend and yet, here we are?” you repeat, your voice sharp and incredulous.

Rafe chuckles again, clearly unbothered by the situation. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wow. Great boyfriend you are,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn to look out the window. “She’s probably going to wonder where the hell you are.”

He shrugs, completely nonchalant. “She’ll be fine. She’ll find a way back.” You whip your head back toward him, your mouth falling open. “Are you serious right now? You left her stranded, and you don’t even care?” “She’s not stranded,” Rafe says, his voice calm, as if you’re the one being unreasonable. “Her friends are there. They’ll give her a ride or something.”

You shake your head in disbelief, leaning back in your seat. “Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe glances at you again, his lips twitching as if he’s holding back another laugh. “What?” “You,” you snap, gesturing toward him. “You’re acting like it’s no big deal, but if the roles were reversed, I guarantee you’d lose your mind if she ditched you for someone else.”

His smirk falters, just slightly, and for a moment, you think you might’ve struck a nerve. But then he shrugs again, the nonchalance returning as he shifts in his seat. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice quieter now, though there’s a glint in his eye that you can’t quite read. “But I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and your stomach twists uncomfortably. You’re not sure what bothers you more—his blatant disregard for Katie or the fact that a small, shameful part of you likes the attention.

~

Rafe’s hands move with purpose, sliding under your shirt, the heat of his palms against your skin sending a jolt through you. You know you should stop this—you know the consequences of what you’re letting happen. But in the haze of his touch, every rational thought feels distant, muffled by the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing he wants in the world.

He leans in again, his lips brushing yours, but this time, the kiss is slower, deeper. It’s as if he’s savouring you, drawing out every moment. His fingers trail up your sides, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake, and when he presses his body against yours, you feel yourself giving in completely.

Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low, guttural sound from him that sends a thrill through your entire body. He pulls away for just a second, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath. “This is insane,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft.

“I know,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that feels too tender for the fire burning between you. “But I don’t care.” And neither do you. Rafe leans down, capturing your lips once more, and this time, there’s no hesitation. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, and with your silent permission, he pulls it over your head, discarding it onto the floor.

His eyes rake over you, filled with a hunger that makes your skin flush under his gaze. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, before his lips find your collarbone, then the curve of your shoulder. Your heart is pounding so hard it’s a wonder he can’t hear it. You reach for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers fumbling in your haste.

He chuckles softly, taking over and shrugging it off in one smooth motion, revealing the toned lines of his chest. Rafe’s lips are on yours again before you can fully process the sight, and he gently lowers you onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath your weight as he hovers above you, his hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, his piercing blue eyes searching yours. You hesitate for the briefest of moments, the gravity of what you’re about to do settling over you. But then you nod, your hands finding their way to his waist, pulling him closer. “I’m sure,” you whisper. That’s all he needs.

Rafe kisses you again, his lips moving against yours with a mix of passion and restraint, like he’s holding back just enough to savour every moment. The world outside fades away—Katie, the consequences, everything. All that matters is him, and the way he makes you feel like the centre of his universe. And for the rest of the night, he does just that.

[eupheme]

ahhh I’m in love with the way you write oldman!logan! Lately I’ve been thinking about dom!logan bending his girl over his knee and giving her a couple spankings, and of course rewarding her for her good behavior later ;) love ur page so much!

oh! 😳💖 dom!old man logan has my heart and he for sure wouldn’t hesitate to put you over his knee - I love this so much!! I hope this little blurb did your idea justice because I am obsessed!! (and thank you so so much!! for the kind words and this awesome ask! 💕)

lessons | old man logan x f!reader

550 words | impact play, spanking, sub/dom vibes, teasing, begging, fingering

He can hear each sound that slips from you. Every gasp and whine. The sharp, inhaled breath you hold, with the twist of his wrist.

Bracing for impact.

If his eyes were to shut, he thinks he’d hear more. The hammering of your heart beneath your ribs, the creak of your fingers as they fist in the fabric of his trousers.

Feel more - the hot exhale of your breath, buried against his thigh. The shift of your knees as they inch wider.

Your scent rolls off you in waves. So much of him has diminished over the years - the once-sharp shine of his claws now dulled. That silver gleam now scuffed up, matted.

But not his senses. Helpless with the way you overwhelm him, all that want and desire building to a crescendo.

It’s supposed to be a punishment, and he can’t pretend it’s not torture.

“How many left?”

It’s more gruff than he means to be. Demanding - a hard edge to the words.

A breath, before you’re answering, “F-five.”

“And you got it through that head of yours?”

“Yes.”

The syllables draw out - the slightest flinch in anticipation, when his hand lifts from the armrest. The cool roll of his now-empty whisky glass against a cheek, the liquor now faded from his tongue.

Followed up the cup of a broad palm. The skin warm beneath, where he’s already begun. Ten, placed swiftly.

Resisting the urge to twist his wrist once more. Let his fingers drift against your seam, knowing they’d come back slick. Tilt his head down enough to drag his tongue against the glossy ring of condensation left against your skin.

But, you’d never learn that way.

“Good,” He rasps, “Gonna finish them out.”

Fingers curling, unable to help the slightest squeeze. You clench with your sigh, his thumb stroking skin just above where your leggings are tugged down, framing the pretty curve of your ass.

“Not gonna take it easy on you, just ‘cause you said yes.”

You nod. An arch to your back, as you breathe out a, “Thank you.”

His jaw ticks. A curse bitten back as his cock throbs, where it presses against his trousers - your hip rubbing against him each time you jolt forward.

It’s enough that his hand is swinging again. A sharp crack, punctuated by the gasp as the air is pushed from your lungs.

“Count ‘em, sweetheart.”

“Five.” You pant.

Then four. Then three, two. One.

Logan’s rougher than he needs to be. A real cry pulled on the last one, a punctuation to the lesson he’s certain you won’t soon forget.

Your thighs flex, where you’re bend over his knees. Eyes half-lidded and tear-rimmed, when your head turns - cheek pressed against a thigh.

His own admiring his work. Unable to help the drift of his hand, now. Thumb denting your skin, tugging.

“Please.” You squirm - always wanting, “Logan-”

His own name, whined out. None of the pretty names you call him, dripping with submission. Forgetting yourself with your need, and it does something to him.

He sinks into heat. Two fingers tucked together, burying between your slick thighs. Feeling how you give around him, a pitched-high moan that has the edge of his lips twitching.

Giving you what you need, once more. A reward, for how well you took him.

Because along with the rest -

Maybe he’s grown a little less patient over the years, as well.

thank you so much for reading! 💕

[parkersbliss]

the 141 and their obsessed girlfriend

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x female reader 

synopsis: you love your boyfriend, maybe a little too much that some of the things you say are... concerning to say the least.

warnings: kind of gory for simon, sexual innuendo, death threat, reader is just unhinged and in love with her man fr

a/n: if you get it, you get it. these all may or may nOT be things I've said to my boyfriend to which he said I was "batshit crazy but in a sexy way"

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

—

Ghost:

You sigh, laying your head down on Simon’s chest. His reaction is instinctive, an arm wrapping around you and pulling you closer. You snuggle further into him, his warmth radiating onto your skin. A reminder to you of where your home truly was. 

You can hear his heartbeat in his chest, pumping at a steady pace. You count each thump, rhythmic and soft. Faintly, you hear the sound of air moving in and out of his lungs and the slight bubbling of his stomach from the food you had eaten earlier. 

Simon’s hand strokes your lower back, drawing circles as his eyes focus on the rugby match. He’s unaware of his actions, something he’s too used to when he lies with you. He likes feeling the warmth, the subtle pulse, and shivers. It’s a reminder that you’re real. 

You’re too lost in his heartbeat to hear the narration of the game. There was something so comforting to listen to him, affirming what you knew was true. Your boyfriend was alive, his heart circulating the blood through his body. You push yourself further into his chest, wanting to be closer. You couldn’t get any closer, you knew that, but you needed to be. There was some part of you that kept urging for it. 

“Simon,” You call out. 

He looks down at you. “Hm?”

You meet his eyes. “I want to cut through your skin, open your ribcage, and feel your heart.” You said it casually, not faltering and maintaining eye contact with him. You needed to crawl into his chest and live there, be one with him. Closer. 

Simon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink at your words. “I’d want nothing more than to have you cradle my heart in your hands.” 

You move to straddle him, resting your legs on either side of his hips and leaning your chin on his sternum so you can really look at him. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

He scoffs. “Quite the opposite.”

“Even if I want to live inside your chest?”

“If I could make that happen, I would.” He runs a hand through your hair, tugging gently at the knots. 

You smile at him. “I’d let you live in mine and use my lungs as your personal trampoline.” 

Simon chuckles a beautiful sound to you and lets his hand rest on your hips. “I would be honored.” 

You trace patterns on his chest, huffing. “I just want to live in you.” 

“Unfortunately, you’ll just have to settle for my dick in you.”

You purse your lips from on top of him. “I guess that’ll do.”

Gaz:

You set your phone on the bedside table, lying on your side to look at your boyfriend. He was shirtless, with nothing but his briefs on in bed. Your eyes trace up and down him, taking in all the curves of his muscles and the lines of his abs to the slight stubble of a beard and the downward slope of his nose. God, he was so pretty. 

As if on cue, he turns to look at you. “What?” He murmurs in that voice of his. Kind, but a hint of grit to it. He made it so easy for your thoughts to run wild. You wanted to have his kids. See his eyes in them, the curve of his nose. Actually, scratch that you wanted—“I wanna get you pregnant,” You blurt out. 

Kyle laughs, loud. He isn’t sure he quite heard you correctly. He hopes he did, but then again, you did have a knack for breaking silence with something worth talking about. “What?” 

“I wanna get you pregnant,” You repeat. 

He stills, staring at you and how your face is unwavering. He’s not quite sure what to make of that sentence. He stares at you, your lips pursed in thought and eyes sparkling with a bit of mischief. “That’s simply not possible.” 

“I know,” You said. “But I just want to be able to like fuck you for once.” 

“Oh my god.” 

You shake your head, suddenly aware of how unhinged you sound. But that’s just what Kyle did to you. You were downright obsessed with him. Everything about him made your thoughts melt into a pile of mush and goo. One look at him had you practically reeling. You couldn’t fathom how he was real and yours, nonetheless. “Sorry! You’re just so fucking pretty and it’s like I need to bend you ov—,” 

“Babe,” He cuts you off. “Okay! I get it.” 

“No, but like—,"

He raises his brows at you. “It’s not biologically possible.” He restates, emphasizing that he was not letting that happen and neither was the world. Thank god, he thinks. 

You flop down onto your back on the bed with a groan. “So unfair. We should be like seahorses.” 

Kyle hums, choosing to humor you. “Uh-huh, sorry babe.” 

“I’m just so obsessed with you. I have so many feelings I just… I don’t know what to do with it.” 

Kyle’s hand traces up and down your arm. “Well, we could start with not getting me pregnant.” He moves to situate himself on top of you, pressing his nose into your neck. “But maybe there’s a compromise here, hm?” He kisses the soft skin, and once again, your brain melts into nothing. He was so good to you. He made it easy for you to forget everything in the world but his name on your tongue. So you couldn’t get him pregnant. There was a better idea ahead. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Soap: 

You sat at the table next to Johnny, coffee in hand. You both sit in silence, observing the people passing by on the street. You make note of a man frantically texting on his phone, a little girl chasing after a bird, a couple clinging on to each other. 

People watching. A favorite pastime for the two of you. 

You watch as a girl walks by, her gaze lingering on your boyfriend a second longer than you’d like. Her eyes rake up and down his figure, and she pulls out her phone, no doubt texting someone. 

You turn to Johnny, who’s oblivious to it. “I’m going to fucking kill her.”

His head snaps towards you. “What, love?” 

“That girl,” You gesture with your head. “I’m going to kill her.” 

“Why?” 

“She looked at you.” 

Your boyfriend nearly spits out his coffee. “So you’re gonna kill her?” 

You glare at him. “That’s merciful.” 

“Oh really?” He jests you. 

You nod your head, setting down your coffee and pulling out your phone. “If I really wanted to fuck with her, then I could find her home address and slightly misplace all the objects in her flat and watch her go insane.”

Johnny stares at you, concern etched into his face. His eyes sweep your face for any ounce of joke, but he knows you’renot. He always wanted a possessive girlfriend. “You’re crazy.” 

“Crazy about you,” You correct. “If I ever see anyone look at you like that again, I’m going to call an airstrike on them.” 

He grabs your hands. “Love, you never have to worry about anyone else.”

“I don’t worry. They should worry. If they wanna stare, then they can stare at the ceiling before I gouge their eyes out.” 

Johnny sighs. He loves you, truly. But to say you weren’t sometimes a little unhinged was an understatement. You always had a jealous streak about you, it’s what initially drew him in. That fire he saw in your eyes, dangerous but beckoning him closer. The idea of a possessive girlfriend really did turn him on. It was just moments like these that he wished he could carry around a giant sign that said “Please don’t look at me unless you wanna die.” 

“You’re something else, you know?” He asked, running his thumb over your knuckles. 

You melt a little at the gesture, and he can see your shoulders relax. “You’re mine.” 

He presses a quick kiss to your lips. “True, and you never have to do that. So please stop threatening random people on the street in public.” 

You smile at him. He was so sweet. “You’ll never find a bitch crazier than me, baby.” 

“I never want to,” Johnny insists. “Though, you can show me crazy in a different way…” 

You can see his eyes sparkling with something and you bite your lip, grabbing his hands. “Let’s go home.” 

Price:

You’re sat next to Price on the couch. He’s got a hand slung over your shoulder, keeping you close as you lean your head into the crook of his neck. He was warm, a giant teddy bear covered in rippling muscles. His beard scratches the top of your head, but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, you love the feeling of it when you’re kissing. The soft pinch of his hair against your face. 

But honestly, you loved everything about him. There wasn’t one thing about him you could dislike. Well, maybe that he was gone so long sometimes. In reality, it just made you want him more though. It created special moments like this, where you knew time was futile. 

You sigh, playing with the hairs of his beard. You feel like them against your fingertips, pinching and prodding. 

You gaze up at your husband, his blue eyes focused on the screen and dark lashes contrasting with his pale skin. 

“Honey,” You murmur.

He hums, looking down at you. “Yes?” 

You cock your head at him. “I want to take your beard hair and make it into matching sweaters for us.” 

Price, unfazed by most things, is fazed by this. He could take a bullet, and wouldn’t flinch at a grenade or a gun pointed at his face. But that. 

That was a sentence he wasn’t sure how to unpack. 

“What?” He asked. 

You giggle a little. “You know, the clippings in the bathroom. What if I started collecting them to make a sweater?” 

Price nods, humoring you. “Darling, please don’t do that.” 

“Why not?” You pout, sticking out your bottom limit. 

“That would be itchy,” He insists. “My beard is already itchy enough. You don’t want to wear it too.” 

You don’t, he’s right. You just wanted to say something to see his face contort. He was so comfortable around you that it made it easy to catch him off guard. And really, a part of you was that obsessed with him. 

“Fair point, I suppose,” You concede. 

He’s surprised you surrender so easily. “You don’t already have a collection going, do you?” 

You laugh, patting his chest. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

He pauses. “No, I would not.” You snuggle closer to him, going back to playing with his beard. His arm drops to your waist, giving it a squeeze. “You’re insane, my dear.” 

You grin up at him, planting a kiss on his lips. “In more ways than one.” 

Price kisses you back, sneaking his hands under your shirt and higher. ���Amen.” 

He was never religious, but that man did get on his knees for you.

-- END --

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[josephquinnswhore]

the day your heart stops yearning - pedro pascal x female reader

summary: pedro is tired of the two of you dancing around your feelings for each other.

word count: 1.2k

content warnings: bitta jealously, insecurity from reader, mentions of sex, suggestive comments etc. Pedro is the loml I swear these new pictures have altered my brain chemistry.

Wrapping the towel around yourself tightly, you sit down as your swimsuit soaks through the material. Hair dripping wet and skin cooled down from the sea water. Pedro looked incredible, his hair wet and curly. Droplets of water running down his toned chest.

His board shorts tighten and stick to his thighs and crotch. Swallowing thickly, you help him put his sling back on to support his shoulder injury.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” His voice calls to you softly, drawing you out of your thoughts, every time you were with Pedro, you seemed to be lost in them. Somewhere far away from him.

There’s a moment's hesitation where you process what he’s said, reeling yourself back to the serenity around you. The two of you are on a small boat, surrounded by clear blue water, bright and mirroring the clearness of the sky. Not a cloud in sight.

There’s a formation of an unnaturally curved rock, shaped by erosion, perhaps the gods. The sight would’ve been worthy of such creation. Pedro was wearing nothing but his multi-coloured board shorts, and a deep blue sling.

“That doesn’t even come close to it. I can't describe how it feels to be here.”

With you.

But the words are lost, dying on the tip of your tongue as they had many times before. More often than not the two of you had done this, your own separate outing together aside from everyone, co-stars and friends.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” The concerned murmur is met with a smile that he reserved for you. All teeth baring and eye wrinkles exposing themselves, the smile that reaches his eyes. His deep brown orbs aren’t much to be seen now, eyes squinted as he laughs.

“You’re worrying about me at a place like this?” He tilts his head, the one curl from his messy brown mop of hair falls onto his forehead, and he runs his hand through it, pushing the hair back off his skin.

He’d always found a way to lighten the mood, sending some kind of solemnness emitting from you today, he knew you better than anyone. The feeling had his insides clenching with anxiety.

It had been happening for years, the two of you having some unspoken moments where you couldn’t deny that there was a connection between you, something so effortless and heart wrenching at the same time. So many unspoken words and almost confessions.

“Hey,” he draws you out of your head again, lost in the fog of heartache and doubt.

He looked so good with Connie, that’s all you’d thought about since you’d flown to Malta with Pedro. They seemed so perfect for each other—the way he looked at her while he filmed their shared scenes. It felt real.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m just thinking about some things.” It was easy to brush off, or to pretend to anyway.

“Since when do you keep things from me? Somethings going on with you, come on, spill your heart to me honey.” Meeting his gaze, the brown orbs suck you into an intoxicating familiarity of the love you so desperately crave.

“Can this wait? I don’t want to ruin all of this.” Gesturing to the view, the lapping sound of the water against the side of the boat, the gentle rocking sensation sends your stomach spiralling into more unease.

“You aren’t ruining anything, talk to me.” Setting his can of beer down, he shuffles closer to you, placing his hand on your exposed thigh. “Talk to me.” He pleads again.

“I miss you.” The simply utter broke the silence between you, cutting through the background noise.

He knew what you meant. There hadn’t been much time for the two of you to see each other. Between filming for Gladiator II and the new Fantastic Four franchise. Yet—he knew it ran deeper than that.

You missed the picnics, the shared gazes of knowing and mutual love. The late night dancing and his hands running through your hair, the two of you unable to let go of one another.

The sex you miss, too. But not nearly enough as you crave for his skin on your own, for his hand in yours and his heart in your hands.

“Oh, sweetheart—“ he sounds so sweet, so sincere, but you cut him off anyway.

“Pedro.. don’t. We don’t need to do this today.”

He stares at you, wondering what’s happening in that head of yours.

“You know how I feel about you, right?” He murmurs, tracing unnamed shapes over your skin.

“I suppose so.” All he gets is an uncertain shrug from you.

He frowns, the stress lines on his face appear on his forehead. “My heart is yours, sweetheart.” He utters your name softly, fingers leaving your thigh to caress your cheek.

“What’s it matter how we feel? We can’t be together. You practically are married to the entire internet and it’s not practical for us to date.” Finally, he was getting to the root of it all.

“Fuck being practical,” he murmurs. “Tell me how you feel, just say it to me, I’ll do right by you.”

It feels like your throat is swelling up, preventing you from uttering the words you’ve longed to tell him for years. Somehow, you blurt them out in an anxious whisper.

“I love you.”

Before you could process the admittance of your love, he had pressed his own lips softly against yours. It certainly wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but this time felt more authentic.

Your fingers caress his face, his facial hair tickles your fingers as you hold him against you, his nose is pressed into your cheek and it’s a little awkward. But your heart is pounding erratically in this moment, eyes closed and focusing on the feeling of his lips, his hand clutches the back of your neck.

After a few moments, he pulls away from you, pupils blown wide take up most of the mass around the deep brown iris. “I love you,” the whisper in return was made against your lips, his nose against your own.

“Tell me you’re mine, that we’re going to do this properly.” He pleads, he’s too close for you to look at anything but his eyes. The pleading gaze of hope in them.

“I want that, want you.”

The words aren’t lost on him, the entire afternoon is spent in seclusion, the two of you holding each other, kissing and wrapped around each other as if you were two halves of a whole.

Your fingers are white, lathered in sunscreen as you apply the substance on Pedro’s back. “We really should’ve done this hours ago.” You scold lightly, to which he laughs, shaking his head.

As you trace his back while you’re applying the sunscreen, making sure to cover all the freckles on his skin, and his arms as you trail down. Fingers running up the muscled limb as you return to the base of his neck to give a light massage.

He’s not subtle when it comes to how you made him feel, a loud breathy groan escapes his lips.

“Feel good?” The purr turns his cheeks red—he turns to you.

“Such a tease. If we weren’t in public you’d be in trouble.”

“Maybe we should head back to the hotel now then?”

He perks at your suggestion. The corner of his lip tugs upward in a slight smirk. Pleased with the idea of having you all to himself.

“My girls just got all the right ideas, don’t she?”

My girl—his girl. After years of pining and yearning over more from him, he’s given you the chance you’d dreamed of.

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless

Jisung x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing!

Genre: colleagues to lovers, flufffff

Summary: You and Jisung are colleagues, and he's in love with you. But he's so nervous and clueless about how to win you over. And in come his brothers, to help out.

It all began with Jisung staring at you for what feels like the 397th time that week. The way your soft smile lights up his world whenever you greet him, the way you tap your pen against your lip during team meetings, and the way you always manage to help him without a second thought - Jisung is completely, utterly gone.

And yet, he is clueless. Clueless as to how to make you notice him as more than the guy who fumbled through presentations and ogles at you like you're his favorite cheesecake.

So naturally, he turns to the only people he can think of for help. His brothers.

Jisung: I NEED HER.

I.N: Umm who?

Minho: Oh my god. It’s that girl again.

Hyunjin: A girl, I see. Is she cute?

Felix: Guys, let him speak.

Chan: Okay, Jisung. What’s the problem?

Seungmin: Jisung has a crush.

Jisung: I DON'T HAVE A CRUSH.

Seungmin: Sure you don't. You're totally not unhinged rn.

Jisung: I'M NOT UNHINGED.

Seungmin: What's with the yelling then?

Jisung: I have… feelings. Serious ones.

Minho: So you’re down bad.

Hyunjin: Tragic. Who’s the victim?

Jisung: Y/N Y/L/N

Complete silence.

I.N: She’s out of your league, bro.

Jisung: THAT’S NOT HELPFUL.

Hyunjin: No, but seriously. She’s so sweet. Like so so sweet. Sweet sweet.

Chan: HYUNJIN.

Hyunjin: Sorry.

Felix: That’s why we’re here! To help him not ruin it. Right, guys?

Minho: um, sure.

Jisung stares at the chat, already regretting his decision. These are a bunch of maniacs for heaven's sake! He waits, holding his breath, while Minho breaks the silence.

Felix: Ok, let's brainstorm.

Minho: Easy. Corner her in the supply closet and say, “I need you. Now.”

Jisung: Excuse me, WHAT.

Hyunjin: No, wait. That’s brilliant. Push her against the wall for added effect. Women love tension.

Changbin: Are you sure about that?

Felix: Guys. Wtf.

Chan: Jisung, please don’t do that.

Jisung: I wasn’t GOING TO.

I.N: You sure?

Chan: Just start small. Be genuine. Compliment her work.

Felix: Yeah, that's a good plan.

Jisung groans, burying his face in his hands. Of course this is a bad idea. How's he going to compliment you when just the sight of you has him falling apart like a house of cards.

The next morning, Jisung walks into the office with a mission. Chan's advice sounds promising, so that's what he's going to follow.

At least that's what he thought he'd do. But the moment you walk into the room in that cute cardigan, his brain turns into mashed potatoes.

“Good morning, Jisung!” You say, smiling at him as usual.

“Good morning.” Jisung clears his throat, his hands turning ice cold.

“Everything ok?” You ask as you see him glitching.

“Yeah, of course, perfect… you know, just thinking about.. um.. work.. it's good, you do good work…Work.” Jisung stares at you wide eyed, feeling faint.

Your brows furrow a little, but you still smile as you say, “Thank you?”

Jisung barely makes it through the rest of the day without combusting. He just wants the earth to split open and swallow him whole because there's absolutely no point in trying to be alive after that.

Jisung: GUYS. I MESSED UP.

Minho: Shocking.

Jisung: I tried to compliment her, but I think I said “work” five times in a row.

Hyunjin: Should've cornered her in the supply closet.

Chan: Relax, Jisung. Everyone gets nervous.

Changbin: Nah, screw the soft play. You gotta go BIG.

Jisung: What does “BIG” mean?

Changbin: Like a grand gesture. Buy her flowers or something.

Hyunjin: Or serenade her in the breakroom.

Felix: No. Don't do that.

Seungmin: What about showing off your strengths? You’re funny. Make her laugh.

Minho: Yeah, tell her a joke about how bad you are at flirting. Maybe it’ll cancel itself out.

Jisung decides to take Seungmin’s advice. Because, even if he's a nervous mess, he is a funny guy. So the next day, during lunch, he manages to sit next to you.

“Mind if I join you? ” he asks, pretending his heart wasn’t about to leap out of his throat.

Your smile and say, “Of course not.”

But then, he doesn't give it a minute before he executes his plan.

“I’m not great at this whole… flirting thing,” Jisung blurts out as soon as he sits. “But I think I’d like to learn. You. I mean, not learn you. I mean, yes, but not in the creepy way. Unless you’re - WAIT.”

He stops talking and breathing as he looks down at his food, trying to pull himself together.

You blink, biting your lip to stifle a laugh.

“You’re doing fine, Jisung.” you say with a giggle and the warmth in your voice makes his cheeks burn.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking up at you.

“Yeah,” you say, tilting your head. “Maybe we can grab coffee sometime, and you can practice on me.”

Jisung didn’t respond because he's too busy screaming internally.

Jisung: SHE SAID YES. OH MY GOD. SHE SAID YES.

I.N: TO WHAT?!

Jisung: COFFEE.

I.N: AHHH!

Hyunjin: Oh wow. Okay, don’t screw this up.

Minho: Bring her flowers.

Changbin: And chocolate.

Felix: Just show up and be yourself.

Minho: Ew. Get out of here with that wholesome nonsense.

Chan: You'll do just fine.

Jisung puts his phone down, already plotting how to make the coffee date perfect. For once, he feels confident.

But then, as the date nears he's a mess again.

“Do I go casual? Or formal? What's even a business-casual?!” he mutters to himself before grabbing his phone and typing furiously into the group chat.

Jisung: What do I wear to a coffee date??

Felix: Something comfy. Think effortlessly cute.

Chan: yep, don’t overdress.

Minho: Wear black. It’s sexy.

Changbin: Yeah, nothing too tight. You’ll sweat like a pig.

Seungmin: Avoid your Pikachu hoodie. Please.

Jisung: I wasn’t going to wear that (but thanks for the heads up)

Hyunjin: 🤣🤣

I.N: 🤣🤣

His confidence wavers a little as he stands in front of the mirror dressed in a nice fitted charcoal grey sweatshirt, and a pair of black jeans. Whatever, this has to do. But now, the flowers.

Jisung: What flowers do I get?

Hyunjin: Roses. Red ones. Lots of them. Nothing says, “I want to rip your clothes off” like red roses.

Minho: Oh yeah roses.

Changbin: Nah, go for orchids. They’re rare and exotic. It shows taste.

I.N: Sunflowers. They’re happy. Go for the whole cheerful and sweet vibe.

Felix: Yeah, sunflowers! They’re cute, like her.

Chan: Go with whatever feels right, you got this👍

Seungmin: Yeah. Go for your favorite?

Jisung’s head spins as he tries to process this. And as he finally stands in a flower shop, staring at the riot of colors, his eyes move to one particular bunch. He leaves the store clutching the bouquet like it is his lifeline.

The moment he sees you in front of the café, Jisung forgets how to breathe. You look so pretty in your simple yellow dress. It's a beautiful mustard yellow - plain, flowing. And you have left your hair down, just how he likes it.

“Hey,” you greet him softly, as he approaches you.

“Hi,” he manages, handing you the bouquet of sunflowers with shaky hands. “These are for you.”

Your face lights up as you take the flowers, holding them close.

“Oh my gosh, sunflowers are my favorites! How did you know?” you say, grinning happily at him.

And you look like sunshine personified in your yellow dress and sunflowers. Jisung’s cheeks turn crimson as he tries not to drool at you.

“Lucky guess?” he says, and his heart almost springs out of his chest when you take his hand and lead him into the cafe.

The date starts off with a nervous energy, but to Jisung’s surprise, your warmth is contagious. You laugh at his jokes (even the dumb ones) and you are just so…interested in him, that he finds himself relaxing in your company. Jisung knows he's completely in love with you. He can't control the happiness that's taking over him. This is just perfect.

And you? You are smitten.

“Okay, serious question,” you say as you stir your cup of mocha. “What made you choose suflowers? I mean, I love them, but I’m curious.”

Jisung freezes for a second, but he tells you the truth. Well half truth.

“They… remind me of you,” he says. “Bright and beautiful.”

Your heart melts and you blush as you say, “You’re adorable, you know that?”

“I - uh - thanks?”

Jisung walks you home, hours later, and it's like he doesn't even know why he was so nervous before. When you stop at your door and turn to him, there's a shy smile on your face.

“Thank you for today, Jisung,” you say. “I had a great time.”

Jisung feels like his heart might just burst.

“Me too.” he says. “Um…so, I'll be…um-”

You giggle, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Your lips linger for a second too long before you whisper, “Goodnight, Jisung.”

As you disappear inside, Jisung takes time to unfreeze, his hand pressed to his cheek where your lips had been.

Jisung: SHE KISSED ME.

Hyunjin: SHE WHAT?! LIPS OR CHEEK?

Jisung: CHEEK.

I.N: Oh my GOD 🤩

Changbin: Good work 👍

Felix: That’s huge 😍

Minho: I give it three dates.

Seungmin: Two, if he doesn’t do anything stupid.

Chan: That's amazing, Jisung!

Jisung: Oh my God, today was great.

Jisung: I could die happy.

Jisung: I'm gonna go plan our next date.

Hyunjin: He's definitely planning their wedding.

Felix: Hehe, goodnight, Ji.

Jisung puts his phone down, smiling to himself. For the first time, he feels great about this. You're even more perfect than he thought. You made him feel great about himself. And he couldn't wait to do this again.

a/n: Trying new things! I love reading all the fake text scenarios here and they're so good, so I wanted to try too!

[ofbatsandballads]

kindness you can’t afford

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: injured character, multiple descriptions of blood + wounds

a/n: so this is the very first jason fic I’ve written since I was twelve, so forgive me while I find my jay’s voice now that I’m not a preteen. anyways I humbly offer thee my wares.

divider credit: cafekitsune

Gotham’s a shithole. You hadn’t known that when you first moved here. To be honest, you’d kind of thrown a dart at a map and gone where it landed. Alright, maybe it wasn’t literally a dart throw, more so finding the cheapest metropolitan city because New York was tempting but it would bankrupt you. Mostly you just wanted a place to not exist. And so Gotham’s relatively low rent rates and towering skylines were the pick with little to no research.

Gotham’s a shithole. You know that beyond a shadow of a doubt now. It’s surprising, honestly, how little of Gotham’s chaos makes it outside the city limits. One would think a psychotic killer clown that’s prone to gassing a whole city district or a half-plant poison lady or a guy going around dressed like a bat would make national news. And yet, no. You’d known superheroes existed, of course. Superman was the shining jewel in the crown of the country that is Metropolis. Everyone knows about the extraordinary Wonder Woman. It’s not like hyper skilled people working for the greater good aren’t a thing. But Gotham plays her cards close to her chest.

You've lived here almost two years now and you’ve managed to make it through relatively unscathed. An impressive feat especially since you live in the Bowery. The Bowery itself isn’t so bad, but its neighboring district Park Row, more often known as Crime Alley, is about the worst Gotham has to offer. You’ve heard your fair share of gunshots and sirens, and you’ll never forget the time that Scarecrow released fear toxin in the district and you had to shove every towel and blanket you owned against the cracks by the doors and windows to keep it out. However, you’ve avoided being mugged or assaulted or anything like that so far. And you’ve never encountered the vigilantes that run the night here.

But there’s always time for new and exciting experiences.

The loud thunk that sounds outside your living room window makes you jump and starts your heart pounding. You know you should just ignore it. Crawl off the couch and to the bedroom, lock the door. The lights in the apartment are already off, only the television light illuminating the room, so it would be easy to creep unseen. But you can’t. Something pulls you to the window. Maybe it’s the cat killing curiosity, or maybe it’s your own little voice of self destruction, or maybe it’s something else entirely. All you know is that you have to go look.

So you do. And there, out cold on the fire escape, is a man. A very large man. A very large man in a red helmet. A very large man in a red helmet with dual pistols holstered to his thighs. Red Hood. Red Hood is passed out face up on your fire escape. Huh.

You’d heard of him. It was hard not to. The Bat had the most notoriety by far, but it was Red Hood that truly scared the criminals of Gotham. Batman might break your bones, cripple you even, but you’d leave with your life. No such guarantee existed if you crossed Red Hood. Hurt a few innocent people and you might end up with a bullet or three in your skull. Then there was that thing about heads in a duffel bag and Red Hood running crime for a solid year in Gotham, but he’s better now, apparently. None of this is deterring you from unlocking the window, pushing it up, and stepping out into the cold winter air. Not when you see the blood seeping through his body armor start to drip off the fire escape grate.

He needs help and he can’t stay unconscious in the middle of the city. If whoever injured him didn’t find him, the cops would. He’s just as wanted as the actual rogues of Gotham. You think it’s bullshit, which is why you’re trying to find a way to get him inside the safety of your apartment. He’s huge up close. This is going to be very, very difficult. Your mind flashes suddenly to one of your favorite childhood movies and how the princess pulled the dashing rogue around with her hair. You glance down at the street before heading to your bedroom.

You come back out with sheets bundled up in your arms. You’re not even sure if this harebrained idea will work, but you weave the sheets through the gaps in the grates and around Red Hood’s waist nonetheless. You secure a knot and go back into your apartment with the length of the sheets. Your legs are stronger than your arms, so you brace them against the wall and pull. You can feel his body slowly dragging towards you and you pause to check your progress. He’s slumped against the window now. Good. You loop your arms under his, place your feet back against the wall, and pull hard. Your hard work is rewarded with his body breaching the threshold of your window and landing directly on top of you. The air is knocked clean out of your lungs. He is heavy.

It’s a struggle but you manage to roll out from under him and immediately see the massive red stain contrasting against the white of your fluffy pajama pants. A small puddle of blood is emerging on your floor under his left thigh, and droplets of blood have splattered next to his torso. He’s not in great shape. It suddenly hits you what you’ve done. You dragged an injured vigilante, known for shooting first and asking questions later, into your apartment with no plan on what to do after the fact.

What the fuck did I do?

That’s all you can think as you look down at him. Then something snaps into place inside your rattled mind and you run to your bathroom to grab your first aid kit. You’d bought it and learned the basics after Wayne Enterprises ran televised infomercials about the importance of first aid a couple months back. You’re carefully balancing all the supplies in your arms as you head back out to the living room.

The empty living room. No vigilante in sight. Then your world spins. Everything clatters to the floor as you’re yanked backwards by your waist, pinned to something solid and unable to move.

“Who are you?” A growl sounds behind you, modulated to sound semi-mechanical.

Ah. There he is. You think you should be panicking, absolutely losing your shit even. But your brain is moving in slow motion.

“Someone trying to help you,” you breathe out.

“Doesn’t answer the question.”

The grip around your waist tightens. You want to laugh. As if you could’ve made a run for it in the first place. You tell him your name, and explain that you live alone. There’s no one else here but the two of you and you really do want to help.

“You were passed out on my fire escape. I couldn’t just leave you out there,” you explain cautiously.

The two of you stay like that for a minute longer. Then, a mechanical sigh sounds from behind you and the vice grip on your waist goes slack. You turn to him and see that he’s already halfway to your window.

“Hey! Wait! I can help!” you shout, scrambling after him.

“Don’t need it,” he snaps.

“You were bleeding out on my floor!” you exclaim.

You don’t know why you feel so strongly about this. Maybe because he seemed so…mortal. It’s easy to forget that these guys running around at night are people. They’re strong, tough, and capable, but they’re still human. The fact that he stumbles and has to catch himself on the window frame proves your point.

“Please. I promise I won’t take long. Please just let me help,” you beg.

He turns around and even through that unreadable helmet you can tell he’s sizing you up. You’re sure you must be a sight in your fuzzy white cat pajama pants, old Snoopy t-shirt, and fluffy white socks. Honestly, it’s a bit of a ridiculous tableau. Massive armed man in tactical gear opposite a woman in fluffy pajamas, both bloodstained. But either you seem harmless enough or he’s in exceptionally bad shape, because he just slumps against your wall and gives a barely noticeable nod of his head.

You go into autopilot the second you get his consent. A dining room chair is dragged to the center of your living room and Red Hood drops himself into it, the old wood creaking under the force. You go to assess the damage on his torso first. Light slashes litter his waist, none of them are deep enough for stitches. You grab the rubbing alcohol and cotton balls from the floor where you kneel before warning him that it might sting.

“I got slashed. Think that might’ve hurt a bit more,” he deadpans.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

The torso slashes are light work. It takes all of five minutes to disinfect them and seal them shut with bandages. It’s his thigh that you’re a little more concerned about. There’s enough blood that it’s soaked his tactical pants around where you’re guessing the wound is. You can vaguely make out what appears to be cut fabric, so you’re assuming he was stabbed.

“How deep did the knife go?” you ask.

“Hm. ‘Bout two inches?” he offers.

“Why’d you take it out?” you ask incredulously. Anyone with half a brain knew not to take a knife out of a stab wound.

“No idea. Should’ve just gone runnin’ around the city with a knife wedged in my leg.”

The mask’s modulator does nothing to hide the teasing edge to his voice. Of everything you’d heard about Red Hood, you’d never heard he was such a smartass.

“You know how to do stitches?” he asks.

Great. So he saw the deer-in-headlights look you had while thinking about how to fix his stab wound.

“If you count mending clothing then, uh, sure,” you reply.

The white slits of the helmet stare hard at you before a warped chuckle comes from under it.

“Well, close enough.”

Oh, so he liked to gamble with his health then. Okay. Sure. Great. You could totally do this. Untrained, unlicensed, unsupervised you. You have to stop your hands from shaking as you thread the curved needle. You have to stop yourself from vomiting with anxiety as you push the needle through his skin. He hisses and you immediately feel bad. He’d handled the alcohol without flinching, but the stitches were a different story. You whisper sorry’s with every puncture of his skin you make. Soon enough, his leg is closed up and the whole thing is said and done.

“Okay, should be good to go,” you start, “Well, not good per se, but functional to go.”

A hum and a quick nod of his head are the only response you get before he’s back on his feet. He’s about to climb out your window for the second time tonight when you call out to him again. He turns around and you’d swear he almost seems exasperated.

“Take these with you. You’ll probably need them,” you say as you toss him a water bottle and a small carton of orange juice.

He snatches them easily from the air. But then he just stands there and stares at the drinks in his hands. You think you may have somehow offended him and go to apologize when he speaks.

“Thanks,” he says, mechanical voice catching on the word.

And then he’s gone. Out your window and off into the night. Once you shut and lock the window you feel exhaustion hit you like a freight train. All the adrenaline drains from you and it takes whatever energy you have left to collapse on to your bed and drift off to sleep.

You’ll never know it, but the Red Hood spends the last fifteen minutes of his patrol sipping his orange juice and dutifully watching your apartment window.

You’ll never know it, but Jason Todd lingers across the street to make sure you get home from the grocery store safely, and he scoffs as he sees you feed and pet a stray dog. It’s silly, he thinks.

Don’t you know that now you’ve shown it some kindness, it’ll just keep coming back?

[starkeyslibrary]

FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 2

pairing: you x drew starkey

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden light across your shared bedroom. You stirred awake to the sound of Drew shuffling around the room, already half-dressed for his next press obligation. His movements were quick, almost practiced, as he buttoned his shirt and grabbed his watch from the nightstand.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Drew’s voice was soft, a gentle whisper as he leaned over to kiss your forehead. He was already in work mode, his hair still damp from the shower, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne. His presence should have been comforting, but today, it just felt distant.

“Morning,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes and adjusting the blanket to wrap yourself tighter. You didn’t feel like facing the day. The night before had been difficult enough, and you didn’t know how to move forward from it. “What’s on the schedule today?”

“More interviews,” Drew said, running his hand through his damp hair. “Odessa and I are doing a segment for some morning show. Same old PR stuff.”

You nodded, your throat tightening, trying not to let your discomfort show. You had gotten used to this routine – being around Drew when the cameras were on, the endless interviews, the flashes, the constant attention. But this time, something about the way he said her name made it feel different. More real.

“You’ll do great,” you said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Drew’s gaze softened, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Yeah,” you replied quickly, but it was too fast. You knew it didn’t sound convincing.

Drew nodded but didn’t press further. He bent down and kissed you on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

The day dragged on. You couldn’t focus, your thoughts a whirlwind of insecurity and doubt. You found yourself staring at your phone every few minutes, waiting for Drew to check in. But nothing. He was busy with the press tour, and every update you saw on social media made things worse.

Drew and Odessa. Odessa and Drew. Their names were all over the internet. You could almost feel the heat radiating from your phone screen as you scrolled through the clips from that morning’s interview.

In the clip, they looked so natural together, so comfortable. Drew’s easy laughter filled the air as Odessa leaned into him, her hand brushing his arm in what seemed like a casual, innocent gesture. But you knew better. This wasn’t just a movie press tour. This was a carefully crafted performance.

Still, it didn’t stop the pit in your stomach from growing.

“Working with Drew has been amazing,” Odessa said in the clip, her voice light, playful. “He’s so talented, and we just clicked instantly.”

Drew’s smile was warm, maybe too warm. “Yeah, Odessa makes it easy. She’s incredible,” he added, his eyes never leaving her face.

The host leaned forward with a teasing smile. “I can tell. You two have such great chemistry. Think the fans will start shipping you together?”

Odessa glanced at Drew, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe,” she said with a flirtatious tone. “But we’re just having fun. Giving the people what they want.”

The camera zoomed in on them, capturing the moment when Drew’s fingers brushed Odessa’s hand. You could feel your heart sinking, the jealousy and pain too raw to ignore.

The comments started flooding in within minutes:

@/user9819837: “I ship them SO hard! They’re adorable!”

@/lover987756: “Move over Y/N, #Dressa is the new endgame.”

@/user3012002039: “Their chemistry is off the charts.. bet it’s not just acting 😉”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt the wetness on your cheek.

You tried to push the feelings away, focusing on something – anything – else. But the restlessness in your chest wouldn’t let up. Finally, you texted your best friend, Madelyn, desperate for someone who understood.

You: I don’t know what to do anymore. I saw the interview today. I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. I feel like I’m invisible to him.

The reply came almost instantly.

Madelyn: I’m sorry you’re going through this. I get it, I really do. Maybe it’s just the PR stuff? They’re working, you know? But I know it’s tough. Have you talked to him about it?

You stared at the screen for a moment. How could you talk to Drew about this? Every time you tried, he dismissed your concerns as if they didn’t matter. As if this was just part of his job, and you needed to accept it.

You: I’ve tried, it’s like he doesn’t get how much it hurts to see him with her, even if it’s all fake. I don’t know if I can take it.

You stared at the text, hoping Madelyn would have something better to say. Instead, she was blunt, but kind.

Madelyn: I know you’re hurting, but you’ve got to be honest with him. He’s not going to change if he doesn’t know what you’re going through. You have to talk to him. For you.

By the time Drew came home, the tension between you was unbearable. You hadn’t spoken since the morning, and when Drew walked in, it was clear that something was off. But before you could say anything, he dropped his bag and ran his fingers through his hair, looking exhausted.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m gonna head out with the guys tonight. Some of the crew from Outer Banks are getting together. I’ve gotta keep up appearances.”

You stared at him, not sure what to say. He seemed so distant, like the space between you had grown too  large to bridge. You nodded, trying not to let your frustration show.

“I’ll be fine,” you said, even though it was the farthest thing from the truth. You didn’t want to spend another night alone, so you texted the girls group chat.

You: “Hey want to come over tonight? I need some company.”

Madelyn: “Of course! I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Madison: “Count me and Carlacia in! She is riding with me <3”

You were relieved when your friends arrived – Madelyn, Madison and a few others. They could tell something was wrong. As soon as they stepped inside, Madelyn pulled you aside.

“What’s going on? You look like you’ve been through hell.”

You didn’t want to break down in front of them, but the words tumbled out before you could step them.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Maddie. The way Drew is with Odessa… it feels like he’s slipping away, and I’m powerless to stop it.”

Madelyn sat down beside you, rubbing your back comfortingly. “You’re not powerless, Y/N. He’s just – caught up in the PR stuff. But you have to talk to him about it.”

“I’ve tried,” you whispered, your eyes filling with tears. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

The night passed in a blur of laughter and distractions, but the moment your friends left, everything came rushing back. You grabbed your phone to check for messages, hoping for something from Drew, but instead you were met with the flashing headlines on your feed.

“Drew Starkey and Odessa A’Zion Together Again – The ‘Dresda’ Romance Heats Up!”

You clicked on the article, your heart sinking when you saw the photos. Drew and Odessa walking together in the city at night. Their hands were brushing, and there was an intimacy between them you hadn’t seen between you and Drew in weeks. The photos made it look effortless, like they were a couple – nothing about it screamed “PR stunt.”

You felt your world crumble around you as the images loaded, one after another. Drew’s smile was wide and genuine, a stark contrast to the forced, stiff smiles he’d been giving you lately. Odessa was laughing, her head tilted back, looking up at him with that same spark you’d seen in their interviews. They looked perfect together.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the last of the photos appeared on the screen – Drew and Odessa stopped at a café, sitting so close their legs brushed. You swiped through the photos again, then again, hoping at the next swipe would somehow make it stop. But it didn’t.

Your heart ached in a way you couldn’t put into words. Drew was supposed to be your person. But now? It felt like he had chosen someone else – someone who wasn’t you.

The room spun as you tried to steady your breath. You curled up into yourself, feeling the weight of everything press down on you.

TAGLIST: @princesspeach124 @idiotussupremus @eitaababe @13tter @drewsephrry @drewstarkeyzwhore @cooper8224 @maybankslover @elyseesarchive @ietss

[tiiraameesu]

The One That Got Away Pt. 3

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

PART ONE | PART TWO

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af, you might dislike gojo in this im sorry, very very mild geto x reader

NOTESજ⁀➴ i feel bad for changing the tags so often bcs i really dont wanna catfish ppl into my story BUT I GENUINELY DIDNT PLAN THIS STORY OUT SO EVEN I DONT KNOW HOW THIS IS GONNA END

wcજ⁀➴ 5.6k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie

The cool breeze cut through the streets, but you barely felt it—your mind too occupied with the thoughts swirling around you. It had been a quiet kind of afternoon, the kind that you could lose yourself in, if only you weren’t so aware of every little thing happening around you.

You were meeting up with Gojo, Geto, and Shoko, as usual. At least, that was what you told yourself when you agreed to tag along. But this wasn’t just any other meetup. Gojo had insisted—practically begged—that everyone finally meet someone important to him.

“It’ll be great!” his voice echoed in your head, far too enthusiastic. “I want you guys to meet Mina properly. She’s really excited to get to know you all, too!”

And so, here you were now. Standing at the corner of a familiar street, waiting at the meetup spot, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket as the cool breeze nipped at your skin. The streets were quieter than usual, the kind of calm that made you feel more aware of the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Your mind inevitably wandered, drifting to the idea of finally meeting Mina up close. You’d seen her before, of course, but only from a distance. The cheerleading team had always been easy to spot at school events, and you’d watch her from the sidelines, noticing the way she effortlessly blended into the crowd, always smiling, always surrounded by laughter.

There was something almost magnetic about her—something perfect. The way she carried herself, the way her laughter seemed to light up a room. Even from afar, you couldn’t deny that she was stunning. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was, but it was obvious. She was the kind of pretty that made heads turn, the kind of perfect that seemed like it belonged next to someone like Gojo. The way they spoke about her, the way he looked at her, it all seemed like the pieces of a picture that fit together so effortlessly.

You tried to push the thoughts away, but they lingered in the back of your mind. Would she really be as perfect in person as she was from a distance? Would she live up to the image you had built in your head without even realizing it?

The sound of footsteps pulling you back to reality made you glance up, only to see Gojo, Geto, Shoko—and Mina, standing with them. She was everything you imagined and more. Pretty, confident, and with a kind of presence that seemed to match Gojo’s energy effortlessly. Your stomach twisted.

As your gaze met Mina’s, you felt a fleeting, sharp pang in your chest. She was even more striking up close—her warm eyes and inviting smile only confirmed what you’d observed from afar. Everything about her seemed effortless, like she belonged with Gojo, almost like she was made for him.

Her eyes caught yours, and there was a brief moment where everything felt suspended—until she broke the silence with a bright, friendly smile. “Hey, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” she said, her voice cheerful, full of sincerity.

You hesitated for just a second, but it was enough for your heart to betray you, tightening in your chest as you forced a smile onto your face. “Yeah, you too,” you replied, hoping your tone didn’t sound as strained as it felt.

Mina’s smile didn’t waver, and for that, you were grateful. “Satoru’s told me so much about you all,” she said, her voice light and warm. “It feels like I already know you guys.”

“Oh, has he now?” Geto chimed in, his voice teasing as he shot a glance at Gojo. “I’m almost scared to ask what he said about us.”

“Don’t worry,” Mina laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “It was all good things... mostly.”

Shoko snorted, crossing her arms. “Knowing Satoru, I wouldn’t be surprised if he exaggerated every story.”

“Exaggerate? Me?” Gojo put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I would never!” He turned to Mina with a grin. “Don’t listen to them. I’m the most honest guy you’ll ever meet.”

“Right,” you muttered under your breath, earning a chuckle from Geto beside you.

Mina glanced your way, her smile growing as if she had caught your comment. “You must be the sarcastic one,” she said lightly, her tone playful. “Satoru mentioned that.”

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. “Did he?” you managed, keeping your tone neutral, though inside you felt a flicker of something—was it warmth? Embarrassment? Jealousy? You couldn’t tell.

“He said you’re his closest friend,” Mina continued, her sincerity disarming. “That you’ve always been there for him.”

Your throat tightened at that. “Yeah, well,” you said, shrugging as casually as you could manage. “Someone’s gotta keep him in line.”

Mina laughed again, and it was such a soft, genuine sound that you hated how much you wanted to dislike her. But you couldn’t. She was kind, effortlessly charming, and genuinely seemed to care about making a good impression.

“Alright, alright,” Gojo interrupted, throwing an arm around Mina’s shoulder and grinning at all of you. “Let’s get going before Suguru starts roasting me, or Ieiri finds a way to embarrass me.”

“I don’t have to find ways,” Shoko deadpanned, smirking.

As the group started moving, you walked alongside them, listening to their chatter but feeling a little outside of it all. Mina was a natural fit, seamlessly blending into the dynamic like she’d always been a part of it. Watching her laugh with Geto and Shoko, seeing how easily Gojo leaned into her space, it all felt too... right.

You tried to shake off the nagging feeling, reminding yourself that this was what Gojo wanted—to have his friends meet someone important to him. And Mina, in every way, lived up to the role.

Still, as you glanced at them—Gojo’s arm draped over her shoulder, Mina looking up at him with that easy, perfect smile—you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever stop feeling like you were standing on the outside looking in.

The small café came into view, its warm glow spilling out onto the sidewalk. It was cozy, tucked away from the bustling streets, and one of those places that always smelled like fresh coffee and baked goods. Gojo pushed the door open dramatically, holding it for everyone with a grin that was, as always, a little too much.

“After you, my queen,” he said to Mina, bowing exaggeratedly as she stepped inside, laughing softly.

You trailed in last, your hands stuffed into your pockets as you followed the group to a corner booth. The seating arrangement seemed to happen naturally—Gojo slid in first, pulling Mina down beside him, while Shoko casually took the seat across from them. You hesitated a second too long, and Geto nudged your shoulder, gesturing for you to sit beside him.

So you did. Sliding into the seat, you felt Geto glance at you briefly. It wasn’t much, just a quick flicker of his dark eyes, but it carried a weight you couldn’t quite decipher. He didn’t say anything, though, and neither did you.

The chatter resumed easily enough. Gojo was in full swing, dominating the conversation with some ridiculous story about their last mission. Mina listened intently, her laughter ringing out at all the right moments. Even Shoko seemed mildly amused, her smirk betraying her usual cool detachment.

You wanted to focus on the conversation, to lose yourself in the familiar rhythm of your friends’ banter, but your thoughts kept drifting. Mina fit in so well, like she’d always been part of the group. The ease with which she spoke to Geto, how she didn’t hesitate to tease Shoko lightly—it was effortless.

And yet, it made you feel... out of place. Like you were watching it all unfold from behind some invisible barrier.

“You okay?” Geto’s voice was low, quiet enough that it didn’t interrupt the others. His gaze was steady, unreadable.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Yeah, why?”

“You’ve been quiet,” he said simply, leaning back in his seat. “More than usual.”

“I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a small smile. “Just tired.”

Geto didn’t press further, but the knowing look in his eyes lingered. He was always good at reading people, especially you. It was both comforting and unsettling.

“Hey, you two over there,” Gojo called out, pointing at you and Geto with a playful grin. “Are we boring you or something? You’re awfully quiet.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “Not everything needs to be a performance, Satoru.”

Gojo gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest. “A performance? This is entertainment, Sugu! You should be thanking me.”

“More like tolerating you,” Shoko muttered, sipping her coffee.

The table burst into laughter, Mina included. You chuckled along with them, though it felt hollow. As the conversation shifted again, you found yourself stealing glances at Mina and Gojo. The way she leaned into him, how his arm rested casually on the back of the booth behind her—it all felt so natural.

And yet, a part of you wished it didn’t.

The conversation flowed around you, and you caught yourself drifting again, staring absentmindedly at the coffee cup in front of you. It was silly. You had no reason to feel this way—this quiet, gnawing feeling deep in your chest. Maybe it was just the weight of how easily Mina had slipped into this dynamic, how effortlessly she made everyone smile. But you weren’t a child. You weren’t some outsider. You were one of Gojo’s closest friends. So why the hell did it feel like you were on the sidelines?

A sigh escaped you before you could stop it, and you cursed under your breath. Get it together, you thought, forcing your eyes to flick up.

When you did, you found yourself meeting Mina’s gaze. Her expression was warm, a little hesitant, but there was something real there. She wasn’t trying to dominate the conversation or make everything about her, but she was giving it her all, smiling, laughing, and just... being present. It was clear she was genuinely making the effort to be part of the group, to get to know everyone—not just Gojo, but the rest of you too.

And as you watched her, you realized that maybe this feeling of yours wasn’t about her at all. Maybe it was about you. About how, for all your history with Gojo, you’d never felt as though you were part of this easy, natural rhythm before. You’d never had to share him with anyone in this way.

But Mina was doing everything right. She wasn’t overstepping, wasn’t pushing. She just fit. And something about that made you feel like you should try harder, too. It wasn’t about competition; it was about inclusion.

You cleared your throat, feeling an odd shift in the air. It was time to say something. Something that would help her feel even more welcome, even though the jealousy—small as it was—still lingered under the surface. It was ridiculous to feel threatened by her. She wasn’t taking Gojo away; she was just adding to the group dynamic.

You took a deep breath, pushing the weight of your lingering thoughts aside. You couldn’t afford to let this strange unease keep creeping in. It wasn’t fair to either of you, and especially not to Mina, who was genuinely trying to be a part of the group and you weren’t going to let the discomfort linger anymore.

"So, tell us more about yourself, Mina," you said, trying to keep it light, leaning back in your seat. "We know the basics, but I feel like there's so much more to you."

Mina's face lit up at your question, the shift in energy already palpable as she relaxed. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she thought for a moment, clearly appreciative of your effort to make her feel a part of the group.

"Well, where do I even start?" she said with a little laugh, running a hand through her hair. "I guess, I’m a cheerleader, obviously," she added, her smile a little sheepish. "But it's not all flips and chants, you know? I mean, I do it because I genuinely love it—there’s something about being part of the team, getting everyone hyped up, and seeing everyone come together that feels... energizing."

You nodded, genuinely interested. "Yeah, that makes sense. You seem like you enjoy it."

Mina grinned, clearly relieved to be asked about something she was passionate about. "Definitely! It's a lot of hard work, though. You wouldn’t believe how much practice goes into it, especially with the team. I’m always on my toes—literally. Plus, we’ve got some pretty intense competitions coming up, so it's been non-stop."

As Mina spoke, her voice full of warmth and excitement, you couldn't help but smile. It was hard not to be drawn in by her energy, the way she lit up when she talked about cheerleading and the team. There was something infectious about her enthusiasm, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to let go of that gnawing discomfort, just listening to her without any reservations.

You watched as her hands moved animatedly, illustrating her points about the intensity of practice and the thrill of the competitions. Her passion for what she did was evident in every word she spoke. Despite the strange tangle of emotions that still simmered inside you, a part of you couldn't help but admire her. She was so effortlessly likable, so kind, and it was impossible not to feel a sense of warmth toward her.

It was ridiculous, really. Mina was Gojo’s girlfriend now, and you were here, in the moment, enjoying the conversation. The past was just that—the past. You were here, part of this group, and that’s all that should matter. So you smiled, genuinely, as she finished talking, and offered her an encouraging nod.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to shift. Mina glanced around, and then her gaze settled on you, a curious expression in her eyes.

"So," she began, her tone light and friendly. "What about you? What do you do outside of all this college stuff?"

Before you could respond, Geto leaned back in his chair, glancing at you with that usual smirk. "Ah, she's in a band," he said, his voice laced with an easy-going amusement. "Plays guitar, right? You should ask her to play something sometime. She’s got skills."

As soon as Geto finished speaking, Gojo shot forward in his seat, practically bouncing with excitement. “Oh, you have no idea,” he said, eyes wide as he turned to Mina. “She’s the guitarist, and let me tell you, she's a legend. Plays it like it’s an extension of her body. I swear, every time she picks it up, it’s like magic happens.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up as you shot him a glare, trying to push down the embarrassment. He had this uncanny ability to make you feel like the center of attention without even trying, but right now? You just wanted to crawl into a hole.

"Gojo, please," you muttered, rubbing your face in mock frustration, though part of you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he was being.

“No, no,” Gojo insisted, practically grinning ear to ear. “You need to hear her play, Mina. She’s got this raw, natural talent—totally different vibe from anything you’ve ever heard. Honestly, I’d go so far as to say she's got the kind of skills that could put some of those big-name bands to shame.”

Mina’s eyes widened, clearly impressed, while you tried not to visibly cringe. “Wow, really?” she asked, clearly intrigued. “I can’t believe I didn’t know that about you! What kind of music do you play?”

You felt yourself squirm a little under the attention, but you forced a small, humble smile. “I mean, Satoru’s just exaggerating,” you said, glancing over at Gojo with a playful roll of your eyes. “But I do love playing. It’s just... it’s kind of my thing. My band’s mostly into indie—nothing too fancy, just some good tunes to vibe to.”

Mina nodded, clearly still intrigued, but before she could say anything else, Shoko, who had been quietly observing the exchange, chimed in with her usual casual tone.

“Wait,” Shoko said, her eyes flicking toward you with a smirk. “Your band’s got a performance coming up, right? In about a month, I think?”

You blinked, surprised she remembered. "Yeah," you said, your voice a little quieter now, a flicker of nerves showing through. "It’s actually a pretty big one. There’s going to be some scouts there—so it's not just any usual gig. It’s kind of a big deal for us."

Mina’s eyes widened at that, her expression shifting from casual curiosity to genuine interest. “Scouts?” she asked, her tone suddenly serious. “That’s amazing! Is this the kind of thing you’ve been working toward?”

You nodded, trying to keep your composure, but the nerves were creeping in. "Yeah, it’s a big opportunity for the band. We’ve been putting in a lot of work to make sure we’re ready for it."

Mina smiled brightly, clearly impressed. "I can only imagine how exciting that must be. I’m sure you’re gonna kill it. Maybe we should all go and watch!"

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted the conversation, and the waitress approached with a tray. As soon as she reached the table, she paused, eyes lighting up as she recognized Gojo.

"I’ve got your usual." She said in a sing-song manner, a casual grin laced on her face.

You watched as she placed the familiar dessert in front of Gojo. It was something you and Gojo had always ordered together over the years. A simple sundae, but it had evolved into something far more unique. Back when you were in middle school and had first ordered this, the two of you had added every weird topping and extra bit you could think of. The first few times you’d order it, the dessert would always get confused or judgmental glances from waitstaff, who had no idea what to make of your creation. Even the newer servers still gave a look of uncertainty when they brought it to you, unsure if they’d gotten it right. But over time, it had become your thing—your signature order.

Gojo grinned like a kid as he slid the dessert between him and Mina, pushing it towards her with an enthusiastic gesture.

“Here you go, babe,” Gojo said, his tone playful. “I know it looks a little… weird but trust me. It’s a masterpiece. Don’t judge it until you’ve tried it.”

Mina hesitated, her gaze flicking between the toppings piled high and the spoon in Gojo’s hand. You could see the skepticism on her face, but after a moment, she took a tentative bite. The way her eyes widened in surprise made it clear she hadn’t expected it to taste that good.

"This... is actually amazing," Mina said, her tone a mix of surprise and approval. “I didn’t think it’d work, but it totally does!”

Gojo laughed, clearly pleased. “Told ya. The best things are always a little unexpected.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at her, clearly proud of the creation.

Unable to continue watching them gush over the dessert, you tore your gaze away and tried to focus on the food being served to the rest of the table. You picked up your fork, trying to push aside the tight feeling in your chest.

Just then, Geto, with his usual smug expression, cut a slice from his pancakes and held the fork in front of you.

“Here,” Geto said with a smirk, as though he were about to do the same thing Gojo had just done. “Open wide.”

You looked up at him in confusion, blinking. “What are you doing?”

Geto didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he nudged his head toward Gojo and Mina, who were now happily discussing the dessert and sharing it between themselves. You could feel the small pang in your chest again at the sight, and Geto must have caught on, because his smirk only deepened.

You couldn't help but flick your gaze back to Gojo and Mina once more, watching the way he smiled at her, the two of them so effortlessly comfortable with each other. A pang of something you couldn't quite place squeezed at your chest, and you quickly averted your eyes.

But as you were met face to face with the pancakes still in front of your face, you looked up at Geto, deadpanning with a frown. “Seriously?” you muttered, your voice tinged with an exasperated sigh. He was still holding the fork out, practically dangling it in front of you like it was some kind of challenge.

With a roll of your eyes, you leaned forward and took the bite from his fork, trying to ignore the feeling of discomfort that was still gnawing at you. The food didn’t help distract from the odd tension building up in your chest, but at least it gave you something to do.

Geto grinned smugly as you ate, clearly pleased with himself. You chewed the bite, trying to push aside the strange, tight feeling in your chest. It wasn’t the food, nor Geto’s teasing, that was bothering you; it was the way Gojo and Mina seemed to be in their own little world. The way Gojo looked at her, the way they laughed together—it all seemed too natural. Too perfect.

Before you could shake off the feeling, Gojo suddenly cut through the moment with an exaggerated, playful tone. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s going on between you two?” He leaned forward slightly, a grin still on his lips, but there was something a little off about his tone—almost as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to be amused or... something else.

You raised an eyebrow, not quite sure what to make of it. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo gestured at you and Geto with his fork. “I mean, you two have been acting like you’re in your own little world since we arrived just now.” His eyes flicked between the two of you, his usual easy grin still on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Geto shrugged nonchalantly, cutting into his pancakes. “We’re just eating, Satoru. Chill.” He took a bite, clearly unfazed by the question.

Gojo paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on Geto and then on you, as though trying to gauge something. “Yeah, sure, just eating,” he said, but the slight edge in his voice didn’t escape you. He quickly smiled again, though, and his attention shifted back to Mina. “Anyway, you like it, right?” he asked, directing his focus back to her as if to put the moment behind him.

You were still trying to piece together what had just happened, trying to make sense of Gojo’s sudden shift in attitude, but before you could overthink it, you decided to push it aside. It wasn’t worth dwelling on—whatever it was. So you focused back on your food, trying to ignore the small knot of confusion that had formed in your chest. It was probably nothing, right?

You glanced over at Shoko, hoping to distract yourself from whatever had just simmered in the air between you and Gojo. She had been quiet during the entire exchange, but now she was staring at the scene before her, completely deadpan. Her gaze flicked between you, Gojo, and Geto, the only reaction being a slow, unamused blink and a deep, weary sigh.

────────────────────────────────────────────

After the cafe, the atmosphere had softened a bit, but the there was a slight tension from earlier that still hung in the air, mostly because of Gojo. You tried to focus on the lighthearted chatter, but the nagging feeling didn’t completely leave you. Gojo was acting... off, and you couldn’t quite shake the odd feeling in your chest when you thought about how he’d reacted earlier.

The ride back to your apartment was uneventful, the conversation flowing easily between Geto and Shoko while you mostly listened, lost in thought. Gojo, however, seemed quieter than usual, distracted even.

When you arrived at the building, Gojo insisted on coming up with you, claiming he needed a “quick pee” before the drive back. The rest of the group stayed in the car downstairs, which was just fine with you. The lift ride was silent at first, the soft hum of the machinery the only sound between you and Gojo.

Then, Gojo finally broke the silence, his voice light but tinged with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “So, you and Suguru seem pretty close these days.”

You glanced at him, brows furrowing a little. “What do you mean?”

Gojo didn’t look at you as he leaned against the wall, arms folded. His tone was nonchalant, but there was something sharp beneath it. “I don’t know, just seemed like you two were... getting along pretty well just now. Spending a lot of time together, more than usual.”

There was a brief pause before he added, almost too casually, “Guess I never really pictured you and Suguru that close. But hey, whatever works.”

You blinked, the words landing heavier than you expected. “We’re just friends, ‘Toru.”

He gave a small, barely noticeable smirk, his eyes still not meeting yours. “Yeah, sure, just friends,” he said, voice a little too easy, but the faint edge in it was still there. He pushed off the wall as the elevator dinged, doors sliding open—but he didn’t step out.

You stepped out of the elevator first, waiting for Gojo to follow, but he didn’t move. Instead, he pressed the button to close the doors, looking at you with a lazy grin.

“Actually, I don’t feel like peeing anymore,” he said, his tone back to its usual playfulness as a chuckle slipped past his lips. “See ya.”

The doors slid shut before you could respond, leaving you standing there, feeling strangely confused.

Gojo leaned against the elevator wall, eyes half-lidded as he watched you step out. He pressed the button to close the doors before you could take another step, the action more impulsive than planned.

“Actually, I don’t feel like peeing anymore,” he said with a playful grin, the words leaving his mouth so easily that even he didn’t think much of it at first. His usual charm was there, but this time, it didn’t feel quite as natural.

You paused, looking back at him, and for a second, there was that expression on your face—confusion, curiosity, the way you always seemed to try and read him. Good luck with that. Even he wasn’t sure what was going on in his head.

Gojo held your gaze for a beat, his smirk faltering just slightly. He could feel the weight of the silence between you two, an awkward tension hanging in the air. But he ignored it. No need to read too much into this, right?

He waved you off, pushing the button again and watching the doors close.

“See ya,” he muttered, though his voice didn’t carry the usual lightness. His mind wandered back to the conversation, or rather, the subtle mention of Suguru.

It was nothing, really. He had no right to feel anything about it but if his best friend was going to get closer to one of his other friends—hell, maybe even start something—he had a right to know, right? Friends should keep each other in the loop, and that was all this was. He wasn’t supposed to care. Not really.

But then, his thoughts lingered on the image of you and Suguru together. Laughing, talking like you were the only two people in the room. He’d seen it, noticed it earlier. And now... it wasn’t sitting right with him.

He rubbed his temples as the elevator doors slid open, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. Maybe he was just overthinking it. It was just... it was just weird, that’s all. Seeing you with Suguru like that. They were close, sure, but that didn’t mean anything.

Right?

But still, the more he thought about it, the more the thought of you and Suguru together—the way you looked at him, the way your smiles came easy—left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated it. He hated that feeling. And it made him want to forget about it, brush it off. So he did.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, keeping his gaze forward as he walked away. No need to dwell. It was just one of those things. It didn’t matter.

Gojo barely registered the walk back to his car. His mind was still occupied with the odd heaviness he couldn’t shake, lingering just below the surface. As he reached the vehicle, he opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, the cool leather beneath him offering little comfort.

He didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, he glanced up at the rearview mirror, eyes landing onto Suguru for just a moment. Suguru, sitting in the back, was engrossed in his phone, probably texting someone he didn’t need to be texting at that hour. Gojo’s gaze lingered on him, but something in the pit of his stomach shifted, and without even thinking, his eyes flickered to the passenger seat.

Mina was there, leaning back with a soft smile, her eyes twinkling under the dim streetlights. She caught his gaze and tilted her head playfully. "Got a good pee?" she asked, her voice light, teasing.

He smirked, the easy expression sliding back onto his face like a well-worn mask. "Yeah," he replied, the word coming too smoothly, almost like he was trying to convince himself. His hand moved instinctively to her thigh, squeezing it lightly as he looked at her, letting the familiarity of her touch settle him.

She didn’t seem to mind, giving him a grin before shifting her focus back to whatever it was she was doing. Gojo’s thumb brushed over her leg absentmindedly, and the motion felt automatic, like he was just doing what he always did.

He started the car, the engine humming to life, and without another thought, he pulled out of the parking spot, heading toward the main road. "I’ll drop you guys off first," he said, his voice casual, still somewhat distant as he motioned to the two at the back with a nudge of his head.

Mina hummed an acknowledgment, and Suguru muttered something from the backseat, but Gojo didn’t really hear it. His attention was elsewhere, pulled back to the fleeting thought of you again—the way you were with Suguru, the way you talked to him. The thought lingered, biting at him more than it should.

He gripped the wheel a little tighter, but it was too late to push the feeling down. It kept crawling back, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

────────────────────────────────────────────

With Geto and Shoko finally sent home, Gojo was nearing the last house – Mina’s. He parked by the sidewalk as they approached the apartment complex and took the elevator up. As they reached Mina's front door, Gojo slowed his steps, hands casually tucked in his pockets. The soft glow of the porch light framed Mina’s face, her features lit with that ever-present, effortless cheerfulness. He always liked that about her—how easy she made everything feel.

"Thanks for sending me home," Mina said, her voice light but tinged with affection.

"Anything for you," Gojo replied smoothly, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. "What kind of guy would I be if I just let you fend for yourself out here?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You’re so dramatic."

As she turned to unlock the door, Gojo took a step closer, reaching out. Gently, he placed his hands on her cheeks, his touch warm and lingering. Mina blinked up at him, caught off guard but not uncomfortable. If anything, her grin widened as he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead.

It was slow and deliberate, a soft gesture that made Mina’s eyes flutter shut. Her heart felt light, and when he pulled back, she looked up at him with a contented smile, unaware of the shadow of thought crossing his face.

Gojo’s eyes lingered on her, a furrow forming between his brows as his thumb absentmindedly brushed over her cheek. His expression softened, almost distant, like he was seeing someone else entirely.

“Gojo?” Mina tilted her head, her grin dimming slightly as she studied him. “You okay?”

Her voice pulled him out of his trance, sharp in its difference—cheerful where he’d expected something quieter, something familiar. For just a split second, his hand paused before he masked his hesitation with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone light as always, but Mina caught the way he inhaled deeply, as if to steady himself. “I was just admiring your face. You’re, like, unfairly cute, you know that?”

Mina rolled her eyes with a laugh, her earlier concern dissipating. “Flatterer.”

He took a step back, giving her one last grin. “Goodnight, Mina. Dream about me, yeah?”

She smiled back, waving as she slipped inside, the door closing softly behind her.

Gojo turned on his heel, walking down the path with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His smirk faded as soon as he was out of sight, his mind replaying the moment Mina spoke. The voice he’d expected—it wasn’t hers. And no matter how hard he tried to shake it off, that momentary lapse clung to him like a ghost he couldn’t quite let go of.

[girl-named-matty]

Little morning - Life after Hogwarts

synopsis ✧ Being a parent wasn't exactly easy and Sebastian found that out the hard way after the birth of his first son--who was now two-years-old and they were also expecting another. But regardless, he loved being a father. But the biggest problem with having a pregnant wife? A little toddler who just so happens to be a big mummy's boy that tries to wake her up at any chance he gets.

tags ✧ Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, like so much fluff you guys. Talks of pregnancy and babies (ofc), toddlers (thats a warning in itself haha), marriage, just all the domestic cutesy stuff we all love. .

word count ✧ 1.6k

a/n ✧ Just some random cute idea I got and I have been ITCHING to write Seb and Matty as parents. You've probably seen my other posts about their kids when they are older but I really wanted to do some of the younger stuff as well because the baby fever is strong rn and I need a outlet LOL.🥺 Hope you enjoy! xoxo

Sebastian Sallow severely underestimated how difficult being a parent would be and just how much sleep he would lose by being one as well. Sure, he knew kids were difficult, and his wife had told him countless stories of the kids she had nannied or worked with who were difficult, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the real deal.

Little Eleazar was just past two years old by now, and yes, he was an abnormally well-behaved child; he still was a toddler, and well—toddlers did toddler things.

But despite the lack of sleep, the rough days, and the struggle of learning how to be a first-time parent, it was all worth it. They loved their little boy, and they loved him just the way he was.

And apparently it was “so worth” it enough that Matty was now pregnant with their second child. Or at least in Sebastian’s words, it was “so worth” having another. Matty had always wanted a couple of children, so she was up for having a second, but Sebastian was definitely the one who pushed the idea to have another.

Hence why she was now seven months pregnant and dealing with a toddler. But thankfully, Sebastian was a very hands-on and involved dad, and it made it all so much easier. He was an amazing husband and father. (She couldn’t lie and say that wasn’t the reason why she considered a second.)

It was nearing seven am when Sebastian, who was half asleep, heard the little pitter-patter of footsteps nearing the bedroom door. They had moved Ele into a different room a couple of months ago so he could get used to sleeping without Mum and Dad, especially once the new baby was around. But almost every morning, like clockwork, he managed to climb out of his crib and sneak off to Mum and Dad's room.

Sebastian, immediately knowing who it was, sat up and rubbed his eyes. The little footsteps stopped right at the door, which meant the door needed to be opened. Eleazar wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the door handle and turn it, so usually Sebastian would have to do it himself since he was the first one up.

He could practically hear his son pouting on the other side of the door, so he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake up Matty, who was still peacefully sleeping.

He walked over to the door before opening it, looking down at his son. “Well, good morning,” he said, his voice still gravelly.

Eleazar quickly put his hands up, babbling a little to let his dad know that he wanted to be picked up. Sebastian leaned down and grabbed the little boy up in his arms. “You’re two years old; you gotta start using your words, buddy.” He softly encouraged. But it seemed like Ele was too tired to speak anyway since he was rubbing his eyes the moment he was up in his father's arms.

Sebastian sat back down in bed, Eleazar placed in between him and Matty. “If you’re going to be here, you gotta go back to sleep.” He said, trailing his knuckle against his son's chubby cheeks. Of course, he was only saying this to try and get more sleep himself, but when did toddlers ever listen to anybody?

Instead, Eleazar turned around, seeing that his mother was in bed. “Mummy,” he babbled with a big smile, crawling over to where she was sleeping.

Sebastian’s heart almost jumped out of his chest as he had to quickly grab his son and pull him away from his mother in order for him not to wake her up. She definitely needed more sleep. “Wait, wait, no, we can’t go to Mummy right now, okay? Mummy is sleeping.” Sebastian tried to explain.

However, Eleazar did not like being told no. Especially when it came to his mummy. The corner of his lips curled down, forming a little frown, and by the way his little bottom lip quivered, Sebastian could quickly tell that he was going to start crying.

Panicking a little more, Sebastian quickly grabbed the little boy up in his arms. “Hey, hey, it's okay.” He soothed. “We just can’t wake up Mummy right now; she’s resting.”

He knew Eleazar couldn’t understand a lick of what he was saying, but he hoped the tone of his voice would help calm him down. “Mummy is very tired, and she has little brother or sister to deal with too, okay?” He continued. “I can assure you that definitely isn’t easy.” He half mumbled under his breath with a chuckle. But that was more for his own amusement than an explanation.

Ele didn’t cry, but he looked up at his father with his big blue eyes that he had inherited from his mother, a pout still on his face. “Mummy.” He repeated, this time more determined.

Sebastian sighed, shifting to where he was now lying down with the child in his arms. “Mummy is asleep. Which is what you should be doing right now too. You’re still so young to be waking up this early.”

“No.”

Sebastian sighed again. He hated the fact that usually one of the first five words for children was usually no. It was helpful when they could communicate what they wanted, but it also happened to become their favorite word very quickly. Saying no to everything mummy or daddy needed them to do.

“Yes.”

“Mm-hm.” Eleazar shook his head, clearly conveying that he was saying no.

“What am I going to do with you?” He chuckled, pinching his son's cheeks.

But luckily for the both of them, Matty shifted a little, signaling that she was indeed finally awake. Ele quickly looked behind him, seeing his mother begin to wake up. A big smile instantly appeared on his face, and he slipped out of his dad's arms and immediately crawled over to his mother. He was a big mummy’s boy and always wanted to be with her.

When Matty felt two little hands on her arms, she chuckled, opening her eyes. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she said sweetly, the sleep still obvious in her voice.

Eleazar immediately plopped his full body weight onto his mother, giving her a big hug. She laughed, giving him a hug back before sitting up. She looked over at Sebastian and then back down to her son. “Something tells me you’ve been giving your father a little bit of a hard time.” She said, poking her son's little tummy.

“I’ll say,” Sebastian muttered. “Little bugger tried to wake you up the moment he got into bed.”

Matty smiled. “He just loves his mummy,” she cooed, shifting little Ele so she could have him comfortably against her.

Raising a toddler and being pregnant definitely wasn’t easy, but to Matty, it was worth it in the long run. Not all mornings did she wake up as nicely as she did now, but these mornings definitely helped and made up for the bad days.

“Well, thank you for letting me sleep in a little longer.” She said to Sebastian before leaning in for a quick good morning kiss from him. Sebastian smiled into the kiss, enjoying the attention from his wife. Sometimes that was scarce between work and raising a baby, so he was always loving any attention he got from her.

Meanwhile, little Ele was looking at his mother's belly, still wondering what on earth was going on there. It started to frustrate him that he could no longer sit on his mummy’s lap, but he slightly understood the concept of having another new little sibling that was seemingly “in mummy’s tummy” and that it was a baby.

Matty looked down and chuckled. “Say hi to the baby, Ele.” She urged.

Eleazar didn’t say anything, but he did wave, thinking that his little brother or sister could see him do so. Matty giggled a little bit at her son's expression, and she leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. “In just a little bit you’ll have a new brother or sister, and it’s gonna be sooo fun,” she said.

“Sleepless nights and screaming babies are an interesting thing to consider fun.” Sebastian joked sarcastically.

“Remind me whose idea it was to have a second?” Matty said, raising her brow at her husband. She knew he was just joking, but she did like to poke fun at him because, after all, it was his idea to have another baby once Eleazar was a little older.

“It was mine, and I’ll totally own up to that.” He chuckled, pulling his wife close to him. “And I can’t wait to have another. Anything from you is a complete blessing, and I’m lucky to have you and our children.”

Matty smiled and leaned her head against his chest. She had married the right man, that’s for sure. And boy did she love him.

“I hope it’s a girl,” Sebastian mumbled into her neck.

“Don’t want another little boy?” She chuckled, looking at him with a raised brow.

Sebastian shrugged. “I’ll be happy either way. I just want a healthy baby. But since we have a boy already, I think it’d be nice to have a sweet little girl. Beautiful and intelligent, just like her mother.” He said, giving Matty a little squeeze.

“And here I thought you wanted a little mini-you.” Matty said.

“Oh trust me, I do.” Sebastian replied. “But who's to say that a little girl can’t be my mini-me? We can get into all sorts of trouble together.”

“Mhm, right. Not on my watch.” Matty joked with a laugh.

“Worth a shot.” Sebastian grinned.

I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you so much for reading! 🥺❤️

[novvabee]

More Jegulily x reader pls 🙏🙏

so... ask and you shall receive.

Guess

poly!jegulily x reader

cw: so this is smut, MDNI (18+), oral (f and m receiving), slapping?, hair pulling, unprotected sex, swearing

word count:2.9k

You and Lily loved to rile up your boys. You played games, you teased, you taunted, you knew how to get your way. They were both easy to get riled up in different ways.

James was easy in the sense that if you dangled something in front of him, something he wanted, he would instantly forget what he was doing and drop everything for it. All it took was a lingering touch, a simple look, a suggestive comment, and he was putty in your hands. For Lily, it was often the first and last, for you it was usually the second. All he wanted was attention at the end of the day. 

Regulus was much harder, but after practice and trial and error on both you and Lily’s part, you found exactly what to do. Regulus liked to get what he wanted, all the time, so when either you or Lily would test him in a way that he couldn’t get what he wanted right when he wanted it, it would break him just a little bit. This often led to teasing comments in front of friends, suggestive whispers in class, hot and heavy kisses right before a quidditch match.

Tonight, you and Lily had a plan for both of them.

As the party raged on in the Gryffindor common room, you set your sights on James, setting your plan into motion. You found him lounging on one of the big squashy couches in front of the fireplace, talking with Marlene and Remus. You walked up to him and sat across his lap. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed your cheek sweetly.

“Hi love. How's your night been going?” He asked.

You smiled at him, sweet as sugar, “Not as fun without you.” you replied.

He chuckled and kissed your cheek again, then turned back to his conversation with his friends. They were talking about something to do with an upcoming hogsmeade weekend, and you were getting bored. You rested your head on James’s shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice anything. So you decided to amp up your antics.

You huffed and looked around, pretending to be upset to get him to fall into your trap. Looking around you noticed Lily working on Regulus and tried not to smirk. James did indeed fall into your trap, attention snapping to you. 

“What’s wrong, my love?” he asked.

You sighed and spoke in a low tone so the music drowned out your words to anyone else but James.

“I just want the end of the night to come sooner.” you said, still pretending to be upset.

James’s brow furrowed. “Why’s that? Are you not having fun?”

“I am,” You assured. “It’s just…” you leaned in to whisper in his ear, noticing the goosebumps spreading along his neck, “me and Lily wanna play a game with you.”

James stiffened under you. “What do you mean? What kind of game?” he asked.

You smiled at him. “One I think you’ll like.” you giggled, then kissed the spot right below his ear, just along his jaw. The spot you knew set him off. “You wanna play?” you asked, pulling back to see his reaction.

He was locked into the trap completely. His pupils were blown and there was a flush across his face and neck. You smiled, knowing you accomplished what you set out to do. Words seemed to fail him, he just nodded.

You stood and pulled him along with you, heading toward where Lily and Regulus were talking in the corner of the room. Lily was smirking, Regulus looked pissed. Looks like she accomplished her mission as well. 

You didn’t stop to talk to them, just continued pulling James along through the crowd of the party, aiming for the dorms. You did this knowing that Regulus would follow, knowing it would piss him off more. 

You reached James’s room and pushed open the door and dragged James through, keeping it open for Regulus and Lily. 

Regulus stormed into the room right up to you. You sat James down on his bed and turned to face Regulus. You put on the most innocent, angelic face you could muster.

“What is this?” he asked sternly, very close to you.

“I don’t know what you mean Reggie.” you said, honey coating your words.

He shook his head and scoffed “Not Reggie, not when I know you two are up to something.” he said, looking between you and Lily. 

Lily replied for you saying, “I told you, we have a fun game to play.” She pulled you away from Regulus’s dominant presence and into the middle of the room. “Now, sit.” she ordered. If he wasn’t pissed before, he definitely is now. He hates when anyone orders him around, but he listened and sat next to James, arms crossed and eyes shooting daggers at you and Lily.

“We have a game for you,” you said cheerily.

“Yes, you said that,” Regulus snapped. You gave him false puppy dog eyes and he seemed to relax, not meaning to snap at you.

“We will do anything you want,” Lily said walking up to James, taking his face in her hand. He nuzzled into her palm and kissed it. “All you’ve gotta do…” she dropped his face and walked back to you, “Is guess what color panties we’re wearing.” she explained at last.

James looked like he was going to combust.

“That’s your game?” Regulus scoffed.

“Should be easy, right?” you said, pushing your luck. If he did guess correctly… there would most likely be hell to pay.

His gaze darkened but he smiled, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees. “Fine. Let's play.” he said, sending chills down your spine.

“W-wait,” James chimed in, “what if we guess wrong”

Lily again walked up to him. She bent at the waist and whispered in his ear, “Then you get nothing.”

He let out something that sounded like a whimper. His gaze following her back to her spot next to you. 

“Still wanna play?” she asked. James seemed to snap out of a daze and nodded. You could tell he was thinking back to every pair he had ever seen on you two, trying to prepare his guesses.

“Ok Jamsie, you first.” you said to him. 

He took a moment, looking Lily up and down, seeming like he was trying to activate some type of x-ray vision. He took a stuttering breath and said “Red.”

Lily shook her head. “Wrong.” She answered him.

His face fell, desperation radiation off of him.

“It’s ok baby,” you said, “You still have one more chance. You can still guess mine right.” you explained gently to him.

He took another moment before blurting out “The black ones.”

You squinted at him, “Which black ones?” you asked, goading him. You needed him to clarify.

“Uh, the ones with the little bows.” he guessed, sounding almost out of breath.

You frowned at him, shaking your head. “Oh baby, I’m sorry but wrong again.” you flicked your gaze to Regulus who was now smirking.

“Your turn.” you said sweetly.

He looked at you, then at Lily. He was still smirking as he said, “You’re not wearing any.”

Lily smiled and walked towards the winner, tuning out the whines from James about the unfairness. She just asked the victor what it is he wanted. Regulus stood from the bed and stalked over to where you stood. 

“Y/N. Knees. Now.” he said, each word clipped and laced with a tone of anger. 

You listened not wanting to anger him further, especially if he was about to be in control of restricting your breathing. Regulus was mean, and when he was using your mouth, it was best to follow his orders so that he would go easier on you. 

You waited for him to undo his belt in front of you, but he instead squatted down to your level. “I do love your mouth, but I’m going to need you to use it on Jamie, ok?” he ordered you. 

“But-” you began to protest, but Regulus was quick to cut you off by grabbing your jaw, not enough to hurt, but enough to get you to shut up.

“I won your little game.” he said, no amusement in his voice. “And you said that if I won, I would get anything I wanted.” he explained, your jaw still held firmly in his grasp. “And I want you to take care of James before I have my fun with you. Got it?” he asked. You nodded the best you could, then he pushed you towards James.

You crawled between James’s legs, smiling up at him. “Hi baby,” you say, sliding your hands up his thighs. He shifted with your touch, practically begging you to give him something, anything. “You gotta help me out here.” You say, tugging on the waistband of his pants.

He wasted no time, undoing his belt and pulling his pants down along with his underwear. He only managed to shove them halfway down his thighs before giving up and pulling you by your hair closer to his red, leaking tip. 

“Please, please,” he begged breathlessly.

You took him in your hand, squeezing the base of his cock, before licking a stripe along a vein that ran the length of him. His breath shuttered and his hips bucked up into your hand. Before taking him into your mouth, you glanced over to where Lily was on her knees, doing the same to Regulus.

You did not envy her, you knew Regulus tended to hold back with you ever so slightly. But Lily? He never held back, but that is exactly how she liked it.

James whined above you, forcing your attention back on him. You licked and kissed his tip before taking it into your mouth and sucking. The noises that James let out were downright unholy. The moans and whimpers heading straight to your core.

James lost control fairly quickly, starting to buck into your mouth. He fisted your hair and used it as leverage to fuck into your mouth. You relaxed your throat, allowing him to fuck deeper, and breathed in time to his movements. If Regulus was mean, James was desperate. 

He continued his assault on your throat, until you felt another hand in your hair, yanking you back and away from James’s cock. You gasped and finally caught your breath. You looked up at the person holding your hair, neck straining from being pulled all the way back.

Regulus was looking down at you, nothing but lust in his eyes. “Bed.” he commanded.

You scrambled to your feet and climbed onto the bed, wasting no time, ready for your turn with Regulus.

James once again whined. “But, wait”.

Regulus’s attention snapped to the boy. “You lost the game.” was all he said to him before stalking up to you on the bed. Your heart was racing, you noticed your whole body felt like it was warm, too warm. Regulus took your face in his hands and kissed you gently. His lips were soft against yours, but you wanted, needed more. You threw your arms around his neck, attempting to deepen the kiss. Regulus pulled beck, looking down at you. 

“These stupid fucking games you play,” he said, tutting and shaking his head. He gripped your thighs, right under the hem of your skirt. “You were walking around that party,” he slapped the back of your right thigh, making you gasp, “in this tiny skirt,” he slapped the other, the sting making tears brim your eyes, “and nothing underneath. Did you want someone else to see?” 

You shook your head.

He slapped the back of your thigh again, “words.” he demanded.

“No,” you responded. “I-I just wanted to play the game.” you explained.

He nodded. “Ok, well now you’re going to play my game. Turn around.”

You felt your heartbeat in your throat, in your dripping core. You spun around, kneeling now on the edge of the bed, Regulus standing behind you. Your back to his chest, he was supporting some of your body weight as he kissed your neck and down your shoulder. 

You were now facing Lily leaning back against the pillows at the head of the bed, clothes completely discarded. 

“James,” came Regulus’s voice from above you. James’s attention left Lily’s tits and landed on Regulus long enough for Regulus to give him an order. “Why don’t you eat Lily out? How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Lily answered for James, pulling him into a kiss.

That is as much as you saw before you were shoved down, knees still on the edge of the bed, ass in the air. Regulus flipped your skirt up, bunching it around your waist. 

He slid a finger through your slick, circling your clit, brushing over it lightly. You gasped, hips jolting back asking for more. Regulus chuckled above you. His hand reeled back and slapped your core. You let out a squeak, jolting away this time.

“So wet,” he said above you, “why?”

You felt like you were on fire, you needed him to do something, anything, and soon. You would take anything he gave you. “Want you.” you said, becoming incoherent. 

Another slap landed right against your wet cunt. “Where are your manners, huh?” he asked, he was toying with you now, knowing that you were getting desperate for him. This was his game, you liked to tease him, and he liked teasing you back, except his form of teasing bordered on torture. 

“Please! I'm sorry, please. I want you please.” you corrected yourself, hoping that it would appease him.

It seemed to please him enough that he ran the head of his cock through your wet folds. You moaned at the feeling, trying to push yourself back onto him. He gripped your hip with one hand and lined himself up with the other. He pushed himself in, ever so slightly. The moan that you let out was borderline pornographic, finally feeling something.

That something was not nearly enough, satisfying you for a moment before you tried your luck in pushing back onto him again. No luck, his grip on your hips too firm.

He gripped your hair, pulling you back up to his chest before muttering in your ear “You’ll take what I give you.” before releasing your hair and dropping you back to the mattress.

It was you who was whining now, squirming in place, trying to get some sort of relief. 

Regulus suddenly pushed all the way in, bottoming out and loving the sounds you made. He set a relentless pace, not allowing your body time to adjust to his size. You felt the sting, the burn, the stretch. It added to the pleasure Regulus was set on giving you. 

“Fuck,” you cried out as Regulus pounded into you, seemingly taking all his aggravation out on your cervix. 

He was so incredibly deep. You could have sworn you felt him in the pit of your stomach. You gripped the sheets below you, trying to anchor yourself to something. You felt another hand in your hair, this time more gentle. You looked up to see Lily brushing hair from your face, moaning as James worked his tongue along her core.

You did envy her now, James was a god with his tongue. You turned your face to where he was connected to Lily, his tongue masterfully working her clit. He was feasting on her, his own hips rutting against the mattress, trying to chase his own high.

You moaned at the sight, taking it all in was too much, Regulus, Lily, James, it was all too much. “Reg-gie” you moaned out, voice breaking in between his thrusts, “please.”

Regulus sped up, hips snapping to yours, the noise of skin slapping mixing with wet squelching and both James and Lily’s moans making you lose control.

“Please can I cum,” you moaned, feeling your release quickly approaching. “Please Reggie,” you started begging, knowing that finishing without his permission would leave you in a worse position than you were in currently. 

He granted you permission by reaching around you and rubbing your clit with the same vigor he was fucking you. 

You cried out as your orgasm washed over you, feeling every nerve in your body surge. You moaned Regulus’s name, your cunt spasming around his cock, you felt him twitch inside you, continuing his pace until he released hot ropes of his cum inside your walls. He halted, pulling out slowly.

You heard Lily reach her orgasm, looking in time to see her back arch off of the bed. James, too, reached his high cumming on the sheets just from eating Lily out. He laid there, trying to catch his breath, just like the rest of you. 

Regulus eventually stepped away to grab a wet cloth and ran it down your thighs. He reached your used cunt and you jerked away from him. “I know baby, I know. Just gotta clean you up, then you can rest,” he said gently. You laid still for him and once he was done he leaned down and kissed your forehead. “You alright?” he asked.

You nodded a little fucked out. 

He pulled one of James’s shirts over your head, kissing the tip of your nose, the dominant and mean Regulus gone, melted away into the sweet and gentle Regulus again. You all piled into the bed, curled up with each other and enjoying the afterglow of your stupid game.

so this is my first time writing smut... idk if it is good but I had a vision and I needed to put it put into the universe so...

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs (1)

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1500

content warnings! swearing, jay is delulu and jealous

author's note! toenze is my new roman empire... i don't think i'll ever shut up about it. also realistically i'm only posting this bc yolo since i have nothing ???

masterlist | next

It didn’t affect Jay anyhow, really. That you ended whatever the two of you had for another guy. Like, this was all just casual. And you still wanted to be friends which was exactly what the two of you were before… so not much had to change between the two of you. Other than, well, the lack of physical intimacy.

He didn’t care, really. It wasn’t like you were the only girl he hooked up with (you were) or that he couldn’t get any other girls, but… you ending the situationship was kind of exactly why he liked you. Because you understood everything was casual and there were no expectations, no feelings. The others, they always got attached.

And, look, Jay understood that maybe he was being too nice or whatever, but it was in his nature to help out when necessary, or to cook for people in the morning — it wasn’t like he made breakfast only for those girls anyway. He had roommates to feed, too.

You ended the deal because you had no feelings for him. Which was exactly what he wanted. So why the fuck did it bother him so much? And for Huening Kai, no less? The tall emo kid that barely spoke and people thought he was being mysterious or whatever.

What could you possibly see in him?

What did he have that Jay didn’t?

Jay let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, eyes still fixated on the conversation between you and him. So Huening Kai asked you out. And you liked him enough to say yes. That was certainly not on his bingo card. Realistically, he thought the type of guys you liked were someone like Sung Hanbin or Choi Soobin or… him. Not Huening Kai. 

What the hell?

“What’s up? Someone steal your cat?” Heeseung entered the shared living room with a grin. Jay had to dryly laugh at the irony of his question since, in a way, yes.

“Nah. It’s Y/N,” Jay replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Wants to be just friends.”

“Damn, got tired of you already?” Heeseung teased, but he knew not to go further when Jay’s scathing glare nearly burned him. “What did she say?”

“Huening Kai asked her out and she said yes.” Jay shook his head. You and Kai weren’t even dating yet, and you already wanted to be exclusive with him? Why? Who even does that?

“Oh, Kai? He’s got music classes with me,” Heeseung said with a grin. “He knows how to play like five instruments. He’s kinda cool. A band kid, too. Pretty sure he has a band.” Jay didn’t need to know any of that. Not yet anyway. And then Heeseung added: “I think he was planning to ask Y/N out for a while. I caught him asking around about her once.”

Jay clenched his jaw. How long had you been talking to Kai before he asked you out? Was it out of nowhere or did you befriend him before? Which gave him another reason to be upset because if you did befriend him before, you didn’t tell Jay anything. In fact, you hadn’t been telling him anything about yourself or your life for a while now.

Which stung.

“Kai’s a good guy. You should be happy for her.” Heeseung made a point, giving Jay a long, meaningful look. There was more he wanted to express, but chose to not push his limits. 

Jay huffed.

Thinking about it, maybe he’d have actually preferred it if you were in love with him.

Upon entering the Sanctuary Café, you noticed that it was already packed. But you were instantly recognised by Taehyun, who greeted you with a bright smile and led you toward a table that was empty, save for your reservation. It was in front of the stage set up for live performances, and it occurred to you then that Kai’s surprise was very likely just that. He prepared a performance for you.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the stage. It had a full instrument set up for a band. Drums, bass, keyboard and an electric guitar. The sight of it made you think of Jay for a bit, but you shook your head and got rid of the thought.

This would be your first date with Kai. The boy who actually doesn’t only want to sleep with you, but also wants to do everything else that real relationships include. Like holding hands and hugging in public and being affectionate without being judged. (The things you wished you could’ve had from Jay.)

A group of three guys entered the stage, none of which were Huening Kai. They glanced toward your table every now and then with a knowing smile, though. You watched them set up their instruments — the guitarist, the bassist and keyboardist. But the drums were empty. 

Because of course, he knew how to play the drums. He was a genius that never flaunted his skills, and the reality of it hit you just now. Huening Kai was a drummer — which was actually sexy as hell.

“Hello, everyone, welcome to the Sanctuary Café,” the guitarist spoke into the microphone with the largest smile. He had a cute dimple as well, and you thought he perfectly fit Kai — whenever he wasn’t closing in on himself. “I’m Kim Taerae, lead singer and guitarist of our band, Toenze. We’ve prepared a very special performance today because one of our members wants to dedicate it to a special girl.”

A round of awes went through the crowd. You looked around in hopes of catching a glance of Kai, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, your eyes locked with a person you did not expect to see today — at all.

Jay stood at the back of the café with Heeseung by his side, and you wished you could unsee him. Your heartbeat raced, and your mind felt like you needed to come up to him and apologise. But what would you even be apologising for?

“On my left is our bassist, Choi Beomgyu, and on the keyboard, you’ve got Han Yujin. And, of course, we’re missing a key member — the drummer,” Taerae spoke lightly, his smile hearable in his voice. “Some of you already know him from our previous performances, but for those who have yet to meet him — please give a round of applause to Huening Kai!”

Kai wasn’t even inside the café. He entered through the main door in a dark grey hoodie, the hood covering his face. The whole shop held its breath as he looked up. And when his eyes met yours, a smile spread across his lips. Taking off his hood, he revealed his face and carefully styled bangs. 

From the pocket of his hoodie, he pulled out a bouquet, and when he aimed through the crowd toward you, your heart nearly melted. All thoughts of Jay being here, too, evaporated from your mind. All you could think about was Huening Kai, looking beautiful as ever, heading toward you with a bouquet of flowers.

“For you, my lady.” He knelt down to hand you the flowers, and you stared at him with wide eyes. Grinning, he winked before standing up and heading toward the stage, leaving you absolutely flustered and frozen in place.

“Hello, everyone! This performance is dedicated to the girl that didn’t reject me. It’s for you, Y/N,” he said into the mic jokingly, but there was a hidden meaning behind his words.

The memory of how he asked you out lingered, and you giggled. You could still picture him, approaching you with his hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans. And then he asked you, in the most embarrassing way possible, if you were dating Jay. The smile that spread on his lips when you said that what you had with Jay was only casual was an unforgettable sight, really.

“I can make you forget him,” was Kai’s closing argument, and the confidence with which he had said it sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t possibly reject him then.

Jay’s glare was palpable. You could feel it at the back of your neck, but you ignored him. Why was he glaring at you anyway? If there were no feelings involved, he shouldn’t care about any of this. 

“The first song we prepared for today is called Higher Than Heaven,” Taerae informed the crowd. “And the second song is Kill the Romeo. Hope you guys like them!”

Both songs were amazing, and both conveyed one pretty clear message: I’m better than him. You couldn’t help but laugh and enjoy yourself while Kai’s band performed. They were good — really good. And eventually, you even stopped sensing Jay’s gaze burning through you. 

Naturally, you turned around to check on the spot where Jay had previously been. Except he wasn’t there. Instead, you were met with Heeseung, who shrugged when he noticed you looking at him.

“He left,” Heeseung mouthed.

[rebelliousstories]

Love Me Cancerously

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Dark Themes, Mentions of Killing, Death, and Poison

Word Count: 1,449

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Part One: Love Me Dead

Summary: According to FBI statistics, the chances of two serial killers meeting is just about, in all intents and purposes, impossible. No reason that has been brought up.

Ever since that fateful night in New Orleans, Remy LeBeau was a bit embarrassed to admit that he was absolutely start struck by the woman he had met. That was not an easy thing to do either. He had been around, met hundreds of men and women. And yet, none managed to capture his attention like her.

Every night he was prowling the streets for his next victim, he was thinking about her. Every body he dropped, all he could think of was where she wanted to go for their dinner date the next evening. Gambit snagged a ring off of the body of some woman that was a proud anti-mutant activist, watching as it glittered in the light. She would like this. It matched her style.

“Remy!” Her cheerful tone broke him from his thoughts. Pushing off of the wall that he had been resting on, the man caught her with sturdy arms that picked her up and spun her around. Gambit was rewarded with her smile and laughter before he set her down.

“My, my, my, chere. You look even more beautiful each and every day. Da Gambit don’ know how he got so lucky,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her awaiting lips. Cherry flavoring transferred to his lips as they parted, that he happily licked off of his lips.

“You’re partial, Remy. Now, where are we going tonight? You promised good food and dancing.” The couple took off down the road towards Bourbon Street. It was a cheesy place to go, but they still had some of the best nightlife anywhere in the world.

“You jus’ gon’ have t’ wait ‘n see, petite.” His finger booped her nose before slinging that arm around her waist as they walked.

The small talk they made along the way was passing the time, but making it very difficult for Remy to focus on getting them to their destination. All he wanted to do was to take her to the nearest alleyway and kiss her senseless. But he did promise a fun night. His appetite could wait for a little while.

Although, when they finally got to the lounge, his mood drastically shifted. A man that he had his eyes on was with a lady near the entrance. This lady, girl really, looked too young to be there in that part of town at that time of night. She held her face and spine straight, but there was an inklings of fear hidden underneath her mask. Just when he wanted to enjoy his night out with his lady, of course, something had to come along and ruin it.

Gambit kept his eyes sharp the entire time they were inside. When he got their drinks, his hand rested on her lower back, but his gaze followed the man he had already deemed his next target. If she noticed, she did not call attention to it. Frankly, Remy did not whether or not this made him upset. Did she just not care enough to notice his distant nature? Or is she just being kind and hoping he pulls himself out of the funk he had found himself in?

Either way, Remy still found himself taking his moment of solitude to slip away. He would be back in time so that she did not think he had ditched her. But he needed to get this man off of the streets while he could. So while his date was in the bathroom, Gambit made his way to the exit door nearby to step back out into the shadows he played so well with. However, what he saw out there was not what he had expected.

His lady was pressed against a wall with that anti-mutant piece of-

Did that body just fall?

Now, Remy was confused far more than he was angry about seeing her in a passionate lip lock with the man. As he looked towards the fallen sack of bones, his feet carried him closer to the scene. She squeaked when footsteps tore her from her stupor.

“Remy,” came a breathy plea. What she was pleading for, no one quite knew exactly. “Please, it’s not what it looks like. I promise.”

But he said nothing. Once he was over the body, he saw the protruding veins of his former target extending from his lips. Bloodshot eyes and a sickly pallor overcame him in his still, eternal rest.

“Chere, you are somethin’ else.” Gambit stood once more, and locked upon the woman who was terrified as to what was going to happen now. “Oh, how I have longed for someone like you all my life.”

It was her turn to be confused. A cute tilt to her head enhanced the doe eyed gaze on her face. Her lips, no longer coated in that cherry lipgloss that he loved, were being worked between her teeth anxiously. She was so dumbfounded by his reaction to her actions, that she only could muster a quiet, “huh?”

“Mon petite, you have just made me a very happy man.” His hands rested on her hips once Remy had stepped over the body. When he tried to kiss her though, she gently pushed him away as she turned her head.

“I have to clean my lips before you can kiss me.”

“Well, dat is definitely somethin’ da Gambit can help with,” he said with a smirk.

“No, no. Not because of that. The tropane alkaloids I produce will kill you if I kiss you. Please, just… trust me.” Her explanation caused Remy to pause long enough that she could at least wipe her lips with a napkin from her pocket. The couple stood there once more, this time, in silence. But she was still looking towards the entrance of the alleyway, almost like she was wanting to escape the situation.

“Will you tell me somethin’, chere,” her eyes peered into his from beneath her lashes, “why’d ya kill him?”

There was a full couple of minutes before she decided to speak. And when she did, it was a nearly unintelligible whisper.

“I was afraid to go to school when I was young because of people like him. Never knew which normal person was going to be okay with me, or who was going to make my life a living hell. Besides, that girl he had was just fifteen. She’s on her way back home in a cop car right now.”

“I really wanna kiss ya right now, mon amour.” His smile was so broad, she feared it was going to break him in half.

“You and I are far more alike than we think,” and his hand pulled a card from his pocket. Sending it up into the sky, the magenta charged playing card exploded into a beautiful display of lights and paper. Her startled squeal escaped into the air as Gambit held her close. Turning back, the mutant saw his lover’s eyes sparkle in the dim light.

“You’re like me.” Her words were full of admiration.

“Yeah. Ya know, I was gonna wait t’ give ya this. But Imma just give it to ya now.”

Remy fumbled just a bit as he tried to retrieve his present from his pocket. A small drawstring bag now rested in his hands. He opened it and fished out the small gold-banded ring that was kept safe from the bag.

“Oh, Gambit! That is so gorgeous.” She gushed as she held out her hand in acceptance of this ring. Neither did she ask him, nor did she even think about where he had gotten it. It did not matter. It was now hers.

“A beautiful jewel, for my most precious bijou.” Without getting anywhere near her lips, Remy’s hands cupped her face and pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead.

“Now, would ya like to finish our night here, or continue on t’ somethin’ else t’ do together?” The man teased, trailing a finger just over the surface of her lips without getting any poison on himself. She looked down at the dead body below, looked up at her fellow mutant boyfriend, and smirked just like him.

“I’m gonna go clean my lips and then we’ll see how much fun we can get into tonight, Gambit.”

The way that she said his name, while trailing her hand down his body to his belt, and back up his chest, before leaving to go back inside; it drove Remy LeBeau absolutely insane. Following after her, he realized just how involved he was with her now. She was going to be his partner in crime. His ride or die. They would go out together, and no one was going to take her from him.

[quinnverse]

"Have you lost function of your eyelids, too? Just close them, you imbecile!" She spat, resisting the urge to toss one of the pillows on her bed at him. For such a seemingly smart man, he had a knack for being dense, and primarily around her. If she wasn't in such a compromising position, she might've relished in the fact that she unnerved him so much. Throwing a man off-kilter was a win to some degree, but not when it meant he wandered into her bedchamber unannounced.

I'm not the one who left my damned door unlocked! Her fingers curled into fists as the temptation to hurl something larger at him swelled in side her.

“Oh, forgive me for leaving my own damn bedroom door unlocked in my own damn house!" Forgetting herself for a second, Emma allowed her voice to rise until she heard the timbre echo within the walls of her room. When this day was over, she would make sure her father knew his time needed to be up soon. She couldn't tolerate sharing a roof with John Bolton any longer.

Such thoughts had been plaguing her enough over the past few days that she'd even gone ahead and penned a letter to her cousins, to tell them she might be visiting again sooner rather than later. Her aunt wouldn't mind, not when Emma's presence usually managed to keep both Ned and Belle in check--somewhat. Emma hadn't gotten around to sending it yet, the mere presence of the letter laying flatly on her writing desk was enough to quell the irritation for now.

But that had been before he'd traipsed into her room while she was changing. Before he had kissed her in the barn, and gotten upset with her for flirting with his friend. Their embarrassing encounters only seemed to multiply by the day and she found herself wishing for a messenger pigeon or anything to deliver her message across the pond as quickly as possible. She couldn't stand being around him any longer.

“I did not ask you to kiss me, you swine. There was no invitation.” She grumbled. There had certainly been a hope, but no invitation. Even so, she hadn't pushed him away quite quickly enough to hide her enjoyment of it. If she hadn't come to her senses when she did, Emma couldn't be sure how far she would've let him go before she realized the severity of the situation. Especially when he was confessing things to her that no average woman should hear, let alone want to hear. But Emma never claimed to be a normal woman. "Besides, we both know I, of all people, would not be so quick to consider you an intellectual."

After a moment, she let out a frustrated groan. It would be easier to grab her dirtied chemise off the floor just to save her pride, but Emma knew it would never be that easy. He had already embarrassed her and she wasn't about to let him get away unscathed. Even if it was at the cost of her own sanity, she'd make him pay for this.

“My wardrobe…” She began, her arms clutching tighter around her torso. “It’s by the door. Your eyes clearly aren’t in working order so I wouldn’t expect you to notice. But…” She couldn’t believe this was happening, that this was the way she was going about things. At this point, she'd be better off inviting him into her bed instead of tormenting the both of them, but she pressed on.

“May you please fetch a chemise for me? Or anything, really. A damned blanket would suffice right now.” She waited until he turned away again, watching him like she were a cornered animal and he were the enemy. Before she could think better of it, she felt her lips open and a childish mumble tumbled out.

“You could at least pretend you came for something more. It would, at the very least, make the embarrassment would be worth something.”

“But I suppose this makes us even. Truly even. I’ve seen you without a shirt and now, begrudgingly, you’ve seen me without one. Both circumstances, might I remind you, were your doing. For someone who refuses invitations so adamantly, you're certainly determined to have one of us give in to temptation. It's like you’re trying to make me seem like a harlot.”

Emma's seething request to shut the door took Benjamin off-guard, and glancing over his shoulder, he sucked a breath once he noted the blatant view of the hall. How in God's name had he forgotten the bloody door?!

"I...I-I can't get up without seeing you!" he bit back, concerned she might immediately start lobbing projectiles at him again. Nevertheless, with an awkward shuffle, he remained on his hands and knees and skittered back toward the door, his right leg extending before he nudged it shut.

“What the devils is wrong with you?” Emma snarled.

Still refusing to lift his head, lest he see what she was so clearly trying to conceal, Benjamin growled toward the floorboards, "Me? I'm not the one who left my damned door unlocked! I thought this was my bedroom!"

Emma remained unconvinced. “Was accosting me in the barn not enough for you? Now you have to invade my bedroom while I’m undressing?”

He scoffed, lifting his head enough to see her fiery gaze. "You did not seem accosted in that barn," he volleyed. "Most intellectuals would call what you gave an invitation."

That seemed to jolt through Emma akin to a livewire. She balled her fists and snarled, “If you’re here to take up my previous offer, I regret to inform you that the invitation has since expired. And I would’ve at the very least appreciated a bloody knock. A few moments later and you would've bore witness to far more than you deserve.”

"I told you: I thought this was my room!" Benjamin exclaimed, exasperated. "And I am not here for your so-called offer, so you can get off your bloody high horse! Is the fact I'm on my hands and knees not proof enough?"

Wishing she would grab her damnable chemise -- why did she persist in remaining half-dressed?! -- Benjamin ducked his face down into his palms and groaned. "If you would just re-clothe yourself, I could get up and leave," he coolly reminded her. "You're making this far more difficult than it has to be -- I didn't come here for you!"

He'd certainly wound up in the wrong room because of her, absolutely -- he was wholly frazzled after their afternoon gone wrong, and he was embarrassed from his lewd confession in the barn -- so much so that he'd somehow walked right past his own quarters, and stumbled into the proverbial lion's den.

"I don't care if you believe me," Benjamin spoke again. "And although I did not behave as a gentleman this afternoon, that doesn't mean I haven't come to my senses now!"

He certainly wouldn't be making this mistake again any time soon...

[beauttifullife]

Tame Your Fears (Preview)

Agatha shot her a pointed look but quickly remembered why she’d come in. Straightening in her chair, she forced herself to focus.  

“Look,” she began, the hesitation in her tone making her cringe inwardly. She hated how uncomfortable she sounded, but this was an uncomfortable conversation, one she’d been avoiding but could no longer dodge. “I’m going to work from home for the rest of the day.”  

Rio straightened slightly at that, her playful expression replaced by a flicker of concern.  

“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice soft but probing.  

Agatha waved off the worry with a casual gesture.  

“Yes,” she replied, though her throat felt tight as she forced the next words out. “I’m picking Nicky up from school. He’s coming back to me this week, and since he doesn’t handle change all that well—and there’s now a stranger living in his house”—her sharp gaze flicked pointedly at Rio—“ temporarily , I figured it was best to break the news to him in person. Prepare him.”  

Rio leaned back in her chair, her expression softening as understanding settled across her features.  

Of course, Rio knew about Nicky. She’d walked past his Toy Story -themed room more times than Agatha could count. His photos were everywhere—in the living room, the hallway, even on Agatha’s desk. And then there was the day at the park when Rio met him. They’d sat on the bench together, talking for a while, Rio’s easy demeanor putting Nicky at ease almost instantly.  

Rio had to know this conversation was coming and judging by the calm, unshocked expression on her face, she had been expecting it.  

“Okay,” Rio murmured softly, her eyes steady on Agatha. “What do you need from me to make this as easy as possible for him—and for you?”  

And that did something to Agatha’s heart.  

It was a small thing, maybe, but it struck a chord deep inside her—one she hadn’t expected. Rio’s sincerity, her lack of hesitation, and the simple, direct way she asked how to help Nicky settled over Agatha like a quiet warmth.  

For so long, she’d been used to the people she saw romantically to sidestep the subject of her son, treating him like an obstacle in her life rather than the center of it. But here was Rio, meeting the moment head-on, no discomfort, no excuses—just understanding and a willingness to do whatever was needed.  

Agatha felt her chest tighten, the sensation unfamiliar and uncomfortably tender. She cleared her throat, willing herself to push past the strange flutter it sent through her.  

“Honestly,” she sighed, the word carrying the weight of her uncertainty, “I’m not really sure. He already took to you at the park—faster than I’ve ever seen—but he might be different in his own space. I guess…”   

She hesitated, her eyes meeting Rio’s, searching for some reassurance.   

“Play it by ear? He can be unpredictable sometimes.”  

Rio nodded, her expression shifting into a weary smile.  

“Wonder where he got that from?”  

Agatha shot her a look, equal parts amused and exasperated, before letting out a resigned sigh.  

“He is like a miniature version of myself,” she admitted. “Sometimes I wonder if I made him from scratch, with no help from James at all.”  

Rio smirked, leaning back in her chair.  

“Well, if anyone could pull off immaculate conception through sheer willpower and stubbornness, it would be you.”  

Agatha rolled her eyes, but despite herself, a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips.  

.....

[yoyowrites]

Au where shen jiu is an assassin/murderer and binghe grew up in hua hua palace.

After Binghe's adoptive mother died, the old palace master found him and took him in. At first, he's treated very well. Binghe is excited to have family, to be safe, to be free. Then, he notices he's actually very restricted. Everywhere he goes there's someone. When he was younger, he considered it wonderful to have friends and family but he soon found out they weren't friends. They were spies. His every move was being monitored. His real situation really hit him when he tried to leave.

He wasn't trying to leave for ever. It'd been about eight months since he'd been brought to huan hua palace and he's been missing her. He wanted to visit her grave, tell her how he'd been, and see if any of her things were still in tact. Yet, he barely made it pass the gates when other disciples stopped him. They dragged him to his room and he wasn't allowed to leave for days. When the old palace master returned, binghe tried to explain what happened thinking he'd be on Binghe's side. He was met with lies.

The old palace master explained that it was for his own good. How binghe just needed to stay there and listen. How he should never leave.

Binghe had made one 'friend' after that. A slightly older girl who seemed to take him under her wing. He shared his thoughts and worries with her. One day he mentions how he wants to try leaving. he just wants to be outside, how he missed his home.

The next day, he was imprisoned in his room again. There were guards in front of it that refused to speak to him. When the old palace master visited him, binghe knew what happened.

After that, binghe noticed how he was truly alone. No one ever actually talked to him. They didn't share anything about themselves. They were only collecting information on him.

He became closed off. He still played the part of kind, sweet, naive disciple but he never truly opened up again.

Years later, when binghe is a few months shy of fifteen, he hears rumours about this thief and murderer that has been targeting cultivators. Said murderer had been rumoured to be spotted near huan hua palace. Everyone was whispering how he'd attack them next. Then, binghe made a plan. He needed out.

So binghe plans to stage the murder of the old palace master. However, the real thief shows up and sees binghe. While binghe is strong, he's still young. The murdered captures binghe but doesn't kill him. Instead, he lets him escape. Binghe wasn't sure what to do but follow the murderer (who's name he learns is shen jiu).

Shen jiu wasn't killing to kill. He just needed cash and cultivators tended to hoard so he helped himself. Sometimes cultivators were in the way of his treasure and he needed to not leave evidence. He never leaves evidence.

So what was this ... tall child doing. Shen jiu isn't sure why he didn't kill him, much less kept him around but now he's keeping binghe with him. Mostly because he isn't sure what to do with him Or it was like that until they reached the next town over.

Shen jiu starts to notice that binghe is the luckiest unlucky person he knows. The only room available in the in they can stay at is near a forest that is infested with demons but their room is the only one that doesn't get attacked. Shen jiu chucks it up to luck

then, they're forced to travel through that same forest. shen jiu allows lou binghe to cling to him and sees that nothing serious tries to attack them.

shen jiu decides to keep binghe around. they grow pretty close. he even teaches lbh easy pick pocketing and disarming techniques, though he refuses to allow lbh to kill anyone again. if asked, shen jiu would deny it but a soft spot was rapidly growing.

they had been companions for around a year when lbh's demonic heritage was revealed. for one reason or another, shen jiu decides to push him in to the abyss. it hits him harder than he expected but its for the best. lbh is a demon, demons should be with their own kind. the reason lbh is so odd is probably from being around humans his whole life. shen jiu decides he must move on. life doesn't stop.

lou binghe spends his years in the abyss planning how he would confront sj. he would also prove himself to still be useful because that must be why he was abandoned. even if sj doesn't want to, he'd never be rid of lbh again. years later, he emerged and started searching for his dear shen jiu

TLDR:

Binghe murders old palace master and is on the run, sj helps hide him. Sj keeping binghe around like a rabbits foot until he finds out lbh is a demon. He throws binghe into the abyss and binghe returns for him.

[therobotmonster]

The Kingdom of Tiger-Men

A very long time ago and a very far way away there was a small kingdom. Like all kingdoms it had a king, and like all kings he had all manner of lesser nobles and knights and other such important people at his service.

The kingdom, however, was not just like all the other kingdoms. It was small and peaceful and prosperous, but the cathedrals were modest and the borders had not moved in centuries.

The King and his nobles looked at the empires around them with envy, but there was little they could do about it. Until, that is, they had a visitor.

One day in autumn, there was a knock at the great castle door. Before the guards could give so much as a "Who goes there?", the doors flew open, splintering the crossbar and sending the guards to slam into opposite walls.

There, pleased as could be, was a demon, dressed head to toe in a fine silk suit and carrying an iron walking stick.

"What, Oh King, is the matter, that I may aid thee?" The demon sang.

"Why would you aid me at all." The King replied, though he did not order his knights to attack.

"For I was nursed by your grandmother in hell, and that makes us cousins." The demon replied i with a bow in her sing-song voice. "For I am a demon and you are royalty and we know our own."

"Half the things a demon tells you are true." Said the King. It was an adage his grandmother had told him once upon a time.

"And the other half are true as well, though I'd rather you not check." The demon sang back. "What troubles you, sire?"

"It is my people." The King said, warily. "When there are crops to bring in or barns to raise they do not tire but when I ask for monuments they are sluggards to the last one. They rise to defend our borders but are cowards when sent to expand them, and when asked for alms their pockets seem bottomless, but for splendor to impress our rivals they are always penniless."

"Oh, is that all?" The Demon replied. "That is but a trifling little thing, I shan't even lie for the rest of our meeting because of it."

The King could not believe his luck. He knew whipping his sluggish kingdom to action was no trifle. And wouldn't the demon assume he was impressed with her entrance and think any such action easy for her? She expected him to be a rube, not a learned regent. He knew the half-lie game and so she was changing it, to give him whole truths so he'd go mad dismissing half of them. But he was more clever than that.

"How?"

"I will awaken in them a nameless hunger, for which there is no sating. Their hunger will drive them to dance to your tune, and their loyalty to you will be absolute."

"I will accept, but you must not inflict this curse on my line or any of the ruling classes. We must of course see clearly."

"I hadn't planned on that, but you may have it."

And the demon was gone as quick as she came, if not quicker.

It took only weeks for the change to be in the air. Every man, woman and child felt a need, as strong as hunger or thirst yet with no obvious route to satisfy it. Soon the king had no difficulty pushing his people to invade their neighbors, for perhaps the needed thing was in those foreign lands? He had no difficulty getting them to build his monuments, for accolades could distract from the hunger for a time. They built him splendorous palaces in the hopes that the completion of the project or its momentary use would break the curse.

And the King and his priests and nobles dangled every form of bait to pull the people this way or that. Each day they got hungrier and hungrier, and that hunger made them powerful and violent. They were like tigers in the shapes of men, ever-devouring every form of meat and experience in the vain hope of feeling full.

Decades passed, and the small kingdom was now a medium empire. The Emperor's grandson returned from the front, two mighty tiger-men flanking him on either side. He was drunk with victory, having watched his nation's warriors tear apart the enemy with little resistance.

In his haste to embrace his grandfather, the young prince whipped off his bronze helmet and tossed it aside. The nose-guard cut his cheek, sending a splash of crimson across the face of one of his bodyguards.

He hadn't meant to. The bodyguard was a favored soldier, one of the few of his class able to walk among the upper crust. He would never have done something so unbecoming on purpose. Intention did not matter.

He tasted his young master's blood.

And he knew.

The Emperor was too horrified to scream when the tiger-man's teeth sank into his grandson's throat before him him. He could see the metaphor peeling away, and for the first time he saw the truth in its fangs and claw and fur. The smell and sight of it awoke the understanding in the other bodyguard and he too shed his metaphors for the literal.

The Prince tried to beg, but he could not tell the one that annoyed him from the one that he made warm him on the front through the pain and growling and the crunching of bones.

The knights, of course, sprang to their lords' defense, but they were not tiger-men and were barely more than ornamental to begin with. The Emperor fled to his bedroom and bolted the door behind him. All around him, he could hear the roars of tiger-men, and the screams of nobles in their jaws.

And at the window sat the demon, smiling as she looked over the city below.

"You tricked me!" The Emperor said. "Into tricking myself! The bargain was under false pretext! I demand you fix this!"

"I'd love to help you, but I didn't trick you."

The demon sat there, pointedly not helping, so the Emperor knew which part was the lie.

"There is something that sates the hunger, the loyalty isn't absolute, and you planned it all."

"Aw, you're a smart one." She sang. "And I can hardly be blamed. I gave you everything you wanted..."

The door splintered. The Emperor looked through the frame at his subjects, every last one of them a tiger.

"And no one ever eats the rich, literally."