#actually just in case i need this tag again in the future:

[strialternatives]

You mentioned in the tags of I think your comic of Akira and Akechi traveling that Akechi is first-aid certified in multiple countries. Does this mean something to any headcanon’s you have about what his adult life would be like? I love your palace au and i’m really interested in how he recovers afterwards!!

If it was just a joke then you don’t have to answer :)

that actually wasn't a joke! :D it started off as a "taking care of akira" investment that got outta hand ya see-

some background first! in my head shuake wind up traveling after Akechi's physical therapy and Akira takes an "extended leave" from uni then just. never goes back.

they travel China, then Thailand--near all the countries in east asia. at first, its about putting some distance between themselves and tokyo and all that metaverse ptsd baggage no one wants to acknowledge or talk about-

not that they don't have talks. they talk a lot, they have a lot of hard talks in hotel rooms, during quiet moments, about everything and nothing at all. akira is devastated to learn that his future husband is a dog person.

then, literally as they're about to book the plane back to tokyo, after months and months of travels and late night talks--akira offhandedly, mentions that he's always wanted to visit paris.

there's no reason for them not to. akira has an absurd amount of metaverse money, akechi has the key to a good chunk of shido's offshore assets. akira picks up languages quickly thanks to his personas and so does akechi.

and it kinda spirals from there. after that they only drop by tokyo for holidays and planned thief get-togethers.

akira's the type of wild card that picks up confidants everywhere he goes, he likes to help the people he connects with, and sometimes that comes with dangerous situations and hospital visits.

(the two of them are nosy, reckless and don't know how to mind their own business to save their lives. and akira is so kind to others and willing to help and his and akechi loves and hates him for it so, sooo much.)

at first akechi learns how to patch (his) idiot up for his own peace of mind, its manageable, he's used to patching up real world wounds. his initial mementos explorations were full of trial and error, after all.

--then there's this awful business with the russian mob that akira's gotten involved with during that part-time bodyguard gig protecting some small time lawyer's child during a court case and, well. he's two years in, somewhere between learning how to suture a stab wound from an underground doctor and looking up tameki-san again,

akechi realizes he's in this for the long haul. that he has to--unfortunately--lock in.

and he's GOOD at it, akechi likes being good at things.

he's not planning on being a doctor or anything, can't stay in one place long enough for a degree. but, picking up certifications still scratches an itch he wasn't aware he had. to heal instead of hurt--it helps that it starts with akira.

anyway, sometimes when he's bored and they're in one place for more than two weeks he'll go hit up foreign clinics who need a temp helper.

[noxitsnox]

garage band singer!hee- hc

garage band!lee heeseung x f!waiter!reader

summary: in the pub where you work, often performs a band whose singer fascinates you. it's become a habit for you to secretly exchange notes, but despite this, you've never went on a date, well until today.

tags: non idol au, fluff, both reader and heeseung are down bad, heeseung is a bit toxic but also very sweet, alcohol mentioned, second person pov, y/n is used a few times i think? idk, a hybrid between hc and os

a/n: this is about blue haired heeseung specifically.

also this isn't jake fic... sorry, i've had this one in my mind so long i wasn't able to finish the chapter. i'll post jake before the 28th of april for sure! as always @exactlyinfp 🙂‍↕️

heeseung is a singer in the band his friends and him formed during highschool. the goal was to make a living from music and well, they're not quite there yet but they did find a place to play at regularly

you worked at that pub as a waitress and the moment you saw heeseung... you were in love. the moment you heard him sing your heart exploded

was it possible to be attracted to someone's voice? because damn

after the performance you fought against time to be the one to make his drink just to have a chance so see him up close

you watched him the whole night, hoping to gather the courage to talk to him. it didn't happen but instead you found a note on his napkin

to the pretty waitress with h/c and e/c, xx -l. heeseung

keeping your cool suddenly became very difficult. as you watched the way he slightly tilted his head back when he laughed or the way he bit his tounge as he played.

there was something about his vibes, his aurea... he looked both very approachable and very unapproachable at the same time. even now that he approached you, you were scared to make your move.

in the end, you managed to find out where he kept his guitar case and you put your own note to him in the front pocket when he went to the bathroom.

the week after, his band played again and you could swear he was looking at you, smirking throughout the whole performance.

that day he passed you another note and you did the same.

now, after almost a year, it was normal for you to exchange those notes between a song and a glass of beer. it was the only way you and him would talk basically. you kept every single note- from the very first one, inside your journal so that if in a hypothetical future your grand children asked about how their grand parents got together you could simply show them the story. you hoped he was conserving them too, that way the story would be complete.

problem was that after all this time you needed to have his number, it was a physical need atp. you wanted a way to actually communicate with him outside of the pub.

everytime you were tempted to write it on a napkin and give it to him you changed your mind, main problem was your constant overthinking

if he wanted my number he would've asked by now, we've never even really talked to each other, what if he has a girlfriend, what if doesn't actually like me

but that night you were tired of waiting

you only wished you could talk with him outside of that stupid paper notes. when his band played you spent more time in your mind than at the pub, everytime you looked at him you were closer to just go and kiss him on the spot. maybe this way heeseung would finally understand and give you his number, take you out on a date. everytime you stopped yourself, "y/n don't let your impulsive thoughts win and contain yourself". but as the days passed it was becoming more and more difficult, you were growing frustrated to the point you almost hated him. it was stupid, if you never talked to him how could he know how much you wanted him? and yet you couldn't help but think that he should have an idea by now. and furtively just like the first note you gave him your number. you avoided his table for the rest of the evening, dying of embarrassment every time you met his eyes.

that night an unknown number texted you, but you knew very well who it was

→ finally, i was starting to lose hope. thought i had to find me another pretty girl yk

you audibly scoffed and asked him why, if he wanted your number so bad, he never asked for it

he said he "didn't want to impose himself on you" which was a shitty answer disguised as something sweet

despite that, you actually liked talking with him. that night you stayed up, butterflies in your stomach as you two texted. you felt like a middle schooler dealing with her first crush

everything was perfect except for one thing: at the pub he never spoke to you, barely even looked at you as he flirted with other girls.

you wanted to be mad but you had to remind yourself that he wasn't your boyfriend, your jealousy wasn't legitimate

you hated that part of him so much, how could someone be so nice on the phone and yet so cruel in real life?

but even this didn't stop you from immediately responding with a smile every time your phone screen lit up with his name.

after months he asked you on a date! you had a real actual date with heeseung

he didn't want to tell you where he'd bring you. "it's a surprise" he insisted when you asked

but eventually, after a hundred messages begging him to tell you, using the excuse of "I have to figure out how to dress" he gave you a small spoiler

you found out he was planning a pic nic

he didn't tell you directly, but you heard him say to one of his bandsmate after a performance at the pub

→ when's your day off? i'll pick you up at 11 am that day

you didn't question how he knew where you lived, it wasn't worth it

you just focused on the date, and god it was perfect

you pretended to be surprised when he got out the blanket and pic nic chest. why would you ruin the moment by telling him you already knew about it?

he prepared everything. all the food was cooked by him, he brought all the drinks- even tho it was mainly beer- and he even got you flowers

and the most important thing: heeseung looked absolutely stunning

it was your first time seeing him in day light, since you decided the photos you saw by stalking his profiles didn't count

dark blue hair literally shined under the sun and even if he was simply wearing some baggy jeans and a t-shirt he was gorgeous

he took up just the right amount of space, without invading your personal space but still appearing friendly and close

the confident, secure man you knew was gone

he was sweet, kind and lovely and you weren't complaining

even when he kissed you, it wasn't like you imagined at all

knowing his "stage persona" you thought it'd be rough and wet but it wasn't like that at all

it gave you butterflies, he put a gentle hand on your cheek and lean on you

you were afraid that after the date he'd went back to not knowing you while at the club

instead during the first performance after the he openly dedicated one song for you

he stopped flirting with other girls and he introduced you to his bandsmates

that night on the napkin he wrote:

you're lovely, girl. i'm the luckiest man alive to have you all for myself. xoxo l. heeseung

[anpiels]

here's my piece for the aa spring swap! i created for @aliceaktorka, who requested something sweet with Maria and Gina as a ship and mentioned being fond of hurt/comfort. I'm very happy with this, so I hope you enjoy it, too :]

A short drabble I wrote inspired by this piece under the read more.

It wasn't unlike how Iris had told her Wagahai preferred to show affection, Gina reasoned: being able to feel at peace enough with someone to let your guard down completely, so that you may fully revel in their presence. Of course, the proper way to express that feeling in words was beyond her (and, evidently, Maria herself), but even though her vocabulary couldn't explain what wasn't a sentiment she'd ever truly felt before, she knew that it was a very warm, fuzzy feeling, if nothing else.

That said, it really wasn't so complicated; though both Inspector Lestrade and Doctor Gorey had scarce experience with such emotions (due to either emotional or physical isolation respectively), they both recognized the other's presence as something their heart reached out for. They were both desperate to achieve the sensation of placing all of their faith in another once again, although this time, it was not only to rely on the other— but to be relied on in the same way.

What they both longed for, unwittingly or otherwise, was something they found in each other: a strong bond of mutual trust.

As the dawning sun broke through the twilight, Gina watched blearily through the usually-drawn-shut curtains of the coroner office's window. Somewhere in that hazy level of consciousness between sleep and wake, only one thought occurred to her: the room itself felt much more comfortable than it ever had before.

How strangely tangible it was, the joint serenity of a blossoming love.

[burymagdalene]

A Closed Mouth Doesn't get Fed - S. Reid x Reader

When reader notices Spencers dark circles and glossy eyes, they store away their pressing need for him in bed. This desire locked away forms into a wet dream that escalates their prior expectations substantially.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Smut (nobody's shocked) 18+ pls pls, always fluffy when they're in love! tags: softdom!spencer ("soft", I need to invent subdom!spencer), he's a bit sassy, established relationship, wet dream, sleepy sex, pining, fingering, praise, teasing, piv sex, creampie, Spencer at your beck and call! wc: 4.3k a/n: Kind of stream of conscious & self serving smut. I always see Spencer's pov of a wet dream & wanted to write about the other side of it! Enjoy!

The plastic straw currently placed between your lips has been chewed into a nearly completely flat state as you sit across from Spencer at dinner. Looking into his more-tired-than-usual eyes, you listen to him drowsily recount some memorable moments from the case he just got back from. 

There’s a single dangling light above you two that's pouring out a muted yellow that combined with the ugly grass mat wall beside you is making the dinner after Spencer’s case finishes rushed and antsy. You want to go home, give him a proper welcoming back, but he just looks so tired. 

You try to pull your sprite through the straw, but it seems you popped a hole into its side with your incessant nibbling, causing the pull to be drawn out and emit a sound close to sucking in air, you sigh and pull away from it.

“You really did a number on that straw,” Spencer chuckles, “you know, I’m surprised you’re seeking sensory feedback in that manner, usually when you’re anxious you fiddle with the wrapper.” He smiles at you warmly.

You’re actually not anxious at all. Spencer’s voice has this way of subtly getting more used and spent after he’s been gone and awake for a while. A meditative hum in the bottom of this throat he gets with exhaustion that sounds eerily similar to the voice he uses in your ear when he’s praising the way you can take all of him or when he’s realised he has to ask you where he can finish too close to when he’s almost tipping over the edge.

“Hm?” He poses again, squinting at your glossed over eyes. 

“Oh! Sorry, no. No, I'm not feeling anxious. It just feels nice. I… can’t finish my drink now though.” 

Spencer reaches over and pulls out your ravaged straw, plopping it in his empty water cup and moving his straw to your cup, continuing his story like his minute display of tender attentiveness didn’t curl your toes slightly in your shoes.

You sip your drink until the cups' empty noises are too loud to continue trying to get anything out of it and your oral satisfaction for the night finally comes to a close as you fidget looking at your boyfriend with zero alleviation.

The rest of your night progresses painfully slowly as the inner turmoil of arousal swirling in your belly gets increasingly hard to navigate ignoring.  

When you look at how Spencer holds his steering wheel (loosely while the wheel slides itself through his palms on a turn) driving you back while rain thuds steadily at the windshield you want to lean your head out of the window for a wake up call. 

When you walk into his apartment that you haven’t seen since he’s left right beside him like it's both of yours you consider, in-depth, the grisly intimate details of domesticity. More specifically, a future shared bed between you two where he’s slowly sliding his dripping cum back into you with his fingers after he pulls out. Baby (making) fever.

It’s a plague of the most impure of heart ideas. You think, if he gave you a penny for your thoughts he would stare at you in eerie silence until you begged for mercy.

You could beg for mercy.

You want to roll your eyes at yourself, you have to wash this day off.

In bed you prop your chin on Spencer’s shoulder and gaze over the case file he’s been studying relentlessly. You feel a bit guilty when you consider closing the file for him to move into a straddle, better yet, when you consider gently rubbing his bulge from overtop his linen pajama pants until he’s whimpering and can't focus on the details anymore.

You’ve never felt so tongue-tied around Spencer than how you do right now. Realistically, you know that if you initiated anything he would either happily agree or kindly decline, not an end of the world situation. Your eyes linger over to his hands and you pull away and lay down sighing.

Internally you suppose that you don’t want to make him feel bad for potentially being too tired or paint yourself as a partner who doesn’t notice and understand your boyfriends cues for looking sleepy and engrossed in his work. You don’t want to be a burden, ultimately.

So you keep your mouth shut and stare silently at the ceiling and toss from side to side while Spencer continues his work by the lamplight.

“What’s up, wiggle worm?” Spencer smiles while keeping his eyes locked on his case. 

You can’t help but grin at the bit of attention he’s still giving you. Knowing that even after his long day today Spencer cannot resist his magnetism towards you, noticing your every move.

“Too bored to be tired,” you mumble out with your eyes closed “I feel like I have one more activity in me today…” You’re almost too subtle and cryptic with it that Spencer’s social cues skip over your bait. 

Turning his head to you he pets the top of your head and smiles a dopey smile at you, a sight for sore eyes after scanning over his case for too long.

 “Do you want me to make you some tea? I might have green, oh, I guess that’s caffeinated–” 

“Mm-mm.” you non-reply “I’m just going to try to sleep, keep working.” 

Spencer hums and places the hand he was petting you with to your cheek as you lay on your side facing him, his palm working as another layer to the pillow you’re resting on, his thumb (though pinned between your cheek and the pillow) softly caresses you as he shifts the file to his non-dominant hand. 

With his touch acting as a personalized bottle of melatonin, you drift off into a light and lucid slumber, strange waves and blotches of color bursting behind your eyelids in place of your typical dreams. 

This feels way better than a typical dream.

Whatever pink apparition that’s keeping your brain in a sludged malleable state feels exceptionally good. Despite the cold sweat that's pricking up on the back of your neck making you feel akin to a slab of meat in a pressure cooker, this state is leaving your heart racing.

Even the blanket you have wrapped around you feels better, smells better. Hey, you think to yourself, this smells like Spencer. You press your face into it further, the burning intrusion of Spencer’s detergent, the stale cologne left on his collarbones filling your senses almost overwhelmingly.

Too scared to actually tell Spencer how you wanted him earlier must’ve had your brain illustrate its own ghostly representative of what you wanted from him before bed. 

You wrap your legs around the blanket a bit more now. There’s an instinctual roll of your hips that is haywired into your anatomy whenever you feel a similar Spencer-induced haze when you’re awake so you naturally feel implied to go with your muscle memory.

Slow rolls of pleasure throb up your spine like someone is massaging measured passes into your back. Your hips take on a circular motion now, the up and down grinding you had set in place earlier taking too much energy. 

You’re not a stranger to sex dreams. You find yourself painstakingly alone from time to time with the line of work Spencer is engaged in. You dream about him every day of the week regardless, so from time to time you get rewarded with a nearly satisfying dream that takes his spot.

However, Spencer is not gone right now. What you’re experiencing currently is a production of your pent up sexual frustration because you were too shy to let out a reserved beg for your boyfriend to fuck you. 

The pleasure you’re face to face with at this moment has a larger and more embodied sensation than what you’ve experienced prior. Your hands tremble slightly around the blanket you have been rocking yourself against, and you feel whips of pleasure stemming from your gut that is abnormal to these sex dreams.

You just feel so fucking good.

You feel this good when the brutal summer heat overtakes the capabilities of your AC at your apartment and you lazily grind over Spencer on your couch, both riddled with heat exhaustion. You feel this good when you take a midday nap after work with Spencer and wake up humping your mattress with a breathless laugh. You feel this good when Spencers delicate hands lines up his dick with you and teases your clit with it before fucking you slowly.

This particular lucid sex dream is unlike the rest because funnily enough the blanket you’ve subjected your unhurried grinding on sort of feels like it’s pressing back at you, like it's gained sentience in order to get you off. 

The generous veil of sleepy delirium takes up all your senses in such a robust way that the air you’re sucking into your lungs isn’t satisfying you. You gasp in a breath and your eyes crack open a sliver.

You try to blink away the reality you’ve woken up to, trying to savor any last semblance of your raving sticky pleasure before the unmeasurable embarrassment catches up to you.

What you thought was your soft blanket that was supplying you unwavering delirious pleasure, was actually the thigh of your boyfriend, whom you had made a concerted effort to leave alone when you were awake. 

One hand is tightly fisting his pajama shirt (a black shirt with FBI written on the pocket) with so much fervor that his midriff is exposed and the slight hairs leading from his happy trail are exposed to where you look down between your bodies. 

Frozen in fear and embarrassment you keep your body posed in the same position it was in motion as a mere minute ago, the position so delightful that you let out a whine when halting your movements. 

You glance at the undeniable tent in his pants before you brave yourself by looking up at Spencer’s face for the first time since using his left thigh as relief for your pent up sexual urges. 

Spencer has his case file closed with one of his thumbs holding his spot and is staring directly down at your face, eyes almost black with the lack of light reaching the front of his face.

The lamp is still on and he hasn’t really moved much since you fell asleep. In fact, his hand that was softly against your cheek is still there, albeit a bit more damp with drool than it was when you fell asleep. It probably hasn’t even been an hour since you said goodnight. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to spiral into anxiety over how to apologize to him when Spencer speaks first.

“I-I didn’t know if I should’ve woken you up… I assumed you would have woken up when you-” His words sound faint and trail off as if your sleepy grinding and grabbing did a number on him and wasn’t an annoyance. 

“I’m so sorry.” You rasp out, peeling your hips away from his leg, feeling a sticky resistance between where your cunt and sleep shorts meet. 

“Why?” He pinches his eyebrows slightly at you in genuine confusion and the dialogue between you pauses for a moment. You’re scanning his face for any discomfort and just find his regular big beggy doe eyes. Oh.

“You would’ve let me come?” You ask blearily back at his first words to you. 

“Wh-...why would I not let you come?” The corner of his mouth lifts in a tired and flustered smile at the way you’re acting like wanting to fuck your boyfriend is a crime charged on multiple separate counts. “What were you dreaming about?” 

Spencer is still wearing his doe eyes but his tone switches to a probing tune similar to the greasy way guys have asked you to play 21 questions in the past, but in this case it’s making you pull away the bottom of your shorts stuck to you as you push your thighs together. 

“Nothing even,” your voice gets meek with confusion. “Bunch of shapes and colors moving around.” You meet his gentle gaze. 

You’ve seemed to have stunned him a bit. Spencer has spent many nights dreaming of your naked figure in less than appropriate ways, the way his skin is prickling at the thought of you returning that experience fizzles his brain.

Surely the case can be looked over intently tomorrow with fresh eyes?

“Uhh,” he clears his throat, “do you want me to touch you?”

Normally this would be his first response but he’s exhausted and his brain is mush from the long day he had. He’s back to his old factory settings from when you first started dating.

“Yeah… I’ve been thinking about it nonstop today, actually.”

Now this does not make sense to Spencer. 

“You didn’t mention anything?” He looks down to try to retrace your conversations from the day, scanning to see any missed memos or innuendos he might’ve missed. Nothing?

“No… I mean, you’re so tired! You’re working so hard! I didn’t want to… I dunno.”

Spencer briefly considers looking around the corners of his rooms for prank cameras. 

“You were worried about bothering me? Bothering… me? With… you?” He’s genuinely perplexed.

You laugh slightly at his perturbed words and cover your face with your hands. “Didn’t wanna say something and make you feel obligated or anything.”

“You didn’t–” he pauses briefly, his sassy irritability coming up in place of chiding laughter. 

Spencer looks down once more at your face, his own hard on, the image of you moments prior grasping onto him, drooling on him while getting off because you’re pent up from being too polite to mount him. His perfect angel, suffering in silence. A closed mouth really doesn’t get fed.

He leans down and starts kissing you sloppily immediately, the only way he knows how really. Can barely harness his desire when he feels his open mouth against yours. You breathe out your nose like you can’t believe you got here finally.

Hands gripping the back of your neck and side of your face, you were not prepared to go from your “I have to keep my hands to myself” mindset to “I can’t even tell where his hands are on me” so quickly. 

Unsurprisingly, he’s whimpering into your mouth before you, fully laying all of his weight on you like a big dog that still thinks it's a lap puppy. With his precedent put in place, you follow willingly, a trail of small “ah’s” are moaned back at him.

You haven’t shaken off your sleep fully, the room is so dim and Spencer is so warm that the only real difference between right now and your dream is that Spencers rolling his hard dick against the hem of your pajama shorts.

Trailing the tip of your tongue lightly against the roof of Spencer's mouth he huffs out a shocked whine like you did something unfair and pulls back to look at you with tunnel vision.

“How do you want it?” He pants hard.

“Mmf. However.” You’re a bit sick of mulling over the logistics and just want to skip to feeling the expanse of his back under your fingers.

“You’ve had all this time thinking about it and you can’t tell me how you imagined me taking you?”

He’s pulled back fully now, pushing his linen pants down just enough so that his cock pops above it and he wastes no time taking it into his palm. He’s being needy enough that you’d think he was the one tormented with sex dreams, but you’d never complain about his attachment to you. 

It makes your throat dry. The lamp illuminates him in such a picturesque way you’d consider directing a movie scene just like it. Your clit throbs again as a painful reminder of where you are.

“I want it slow.” You sigh out as you watch him palm the very thing you’ve been fantasizing about for the six hours you’ve been together today.

“You want it slow… what?”

“Stop it.” You’re too frazzled by him right now, he knows. Deep down you know you’re going to have to ask properly after dancing around it all day.

Spencer smiles and his jaw drops an inch in pleasure as he starts twisting his fist around the head of his dick now. 

Okay! Maybe you can give into his teasing a bit.

“I want it slow, please.” 

You feel hot with embarrassment immediately but as soon as it comes it dissipates when Spencer gasps and pulls his hand off himself with a displeased grunt. He takes your jaw into his hands as he lays on top of you to kiss you again, the angle of your jaw is being smeared with whatever precum he got on his palm.

Moving your hand between both of your bodies to get to the top of your shorts was slow and crushing as neither of you wanted to part from the other long enough to expedite its trip down.

Nevertheless, Spencer can hear every tiny noise and breath of pleasure you let out in situations like these and props himself to the side on one of his hands as the other brazenly pulls your shorts quickly down from the middle of them where the hem was pressing against your clit.

The ferocity of the cold air that meets your folds is your first indicator of how wet you’re going to be for this. How much Spencer is going to be cooing in awe of you in 3...2…

“Jesus Christ.” 

Your eyes follow to where he’s looking but it's too dark from where you’re lying to truly take in how wet you look, you just know how you feel. And you feel achingly ready.

“Baby, I just can’t believe how wet you get. For me.”

He’s turning himself on with his own words as you plop your head back down to the pillow to squeeze your eyes shut as if to bat away how good his praise feels. Come to think of it, you don’t really think it’s been mentioned in the many conversations you’ve had about likes and dislikes, yet Spencer wields his words like a heavy axe every time.

You jolt when the pads of his pointer and ring finger rub slightly at your opening, gauging with touch how much wetness he’s going to be inside momentarily. Soon later he trails up to circle your clit and when you moan in response he gives the sight of his fingers against you a toothy grin.

The stretch those same fingers give you have your thighs opening up lazily, up to your sides when they usually strain to shut at the too-pleasureable sensation. Even the cells in your legs and the neurons in your brain are begging for Spencer.

Soft squelching is coming from between your legs and you can’t even be bothered to shy away from it, you know how wet he makes you and he sure as hell does, so playing coy is just not in your capabilities right now. You moan out another loud “mmm” as your eyebrows screw together.

“You sound so pretty.” 

You’re not sure if Spencer is referring to the wetness between your legs or your moaning but you drink in his approval of your noises anyway.

“Spence– I really need it.”

“Hm, right. Slow please.”

You oughta slap him. Right now you could be threatening celibacy at his toying, but you can’t even conjure up such a frightening concept. You let out a “hhng” instead.

For the final time, Spencer lays down against you and presses a kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, as he rubs his agitated dick against the new wetness you’ve produced at his playing. Satisfyingly coated, he shutters a sigh and sinks into you.

He is looking down between your bodies while he enters you, his cheek moved and pressed against your forehead as you whimper against his neck. You haven’t checked the clock in forever, a liminal space created in the blue of the deep night that engulfs the both of you.

Spencer is surprised that his skin is blushing now when he’s already fully sheathed inside of you (when he’s been fully inside you countless times). He can never truly believe the pleasure the human body can experience, that he can experience with you.

Once his hips have settled neatly against yours, when you’re mumbling out a “God-” Spencer begins to kiss back down your face again to where his mouth makes a home in your neck.

Not wanting to risk any muffled noises that he could be letting out against your skin, you move one of your hands to pull back his head by his hair, rewarding yourself with a more clear articulation of the pretty moans he was enveloping against your skin.

Fist still gripping his head back, Spencer begins to make slow and deep thrusts into you, the exact ones you’ve been craving in the pit of your stomach, you feel dizzy with arousal. Fluttering around him you gasp as you feel more of your slick tremble out of you, making his intrusion continuously slippery.

Spencer’s eyelids are shutting and opening repeatedly, wanting to fully close his eyes to the mind numbing pleasure, but equally wanting to stare at your face while he gives you what your biological need was trembling for in your light sleep.

He gets re-offended.

“Nuh-never hide- oh shit… always tell me when you want this. I will always, hm, give you this. Ne-ver spare my exhaustion, oh please-”

Your hips start meeting his consuming thrusts as you whine at his begs. What were you thinking? How could you ever stand in your own way of this?

Frantically nodding at his request, not trusting your voice, you move your fingers out of his hair to trace your nails against his back like signing your name in approval at his order.

Spencer moves slightly to cover your body with his completely, crowning in your head with his forearms. Little strands of his hair, slightly damp with sweat, tickle your forehead. You move to wrap your legs around his waist, locking in the position by putting one of your feet over the other.

With your legs on his lower back you begin to push him with your legs, guiding his rhythm, as you deepen his thrusts more. You two gasp in tandem. 

“Touch me please.” You grit out with a raspy voice. Needing to feel yourself come around Spencer is becoming frighteningly high on the list of your necessities currently. You wiggle your hips against his as an invitation.

“M’ course. Pretty.” 

Somehow the most intelligible praises are what get your gut swirling the most. Something about Spencer so lost in pleasure that he can barely talk but still making the effort to compliment you makes you want to make breakfast for him in the morning. Sweet boy. 

“Sweet boy.” You’ve learned your lesson on biting your tongue. 

He leans down to kiss you just as he starts rubbing your clit in fast movements. You could fall into this limbo of almost-there thrusts and soft caresses for the rest of time. You feel overjoyed with gratitude towards your wet dream, for the cock spreading you open.

Spencer inevitably picks up the pace of his thrusts, the slow rhythm driving him crazy. At the increase of speed you and Spencer find yourself whining out “I love you” at the same time. You’d giggle, maybe, if you were in a normal state. But the state Spencer has fucked you into has made this transaction feel like an omnipotent sign from the universe that you are tethered for life. 

His fingers slip around in sloppy circles for a few moments more and you whimper out “coming” in such a strangled way it barely even sounds like it anymore. He gets it instantly though when he feels your walls contract and expand against him, how you whimper and shake your head back and forth like you still can’t believe how good coming feels.

Slowly breathing and speeding up his thrusts even more, he fucks you through your orgasm as he begins his, his cum spreads over himself as he moves it in and out of you. The whines he’s letting out are unrestrained and high pitched while he smooths your cheek with a thumb.

Bordering onto stinging overstimulation now, your thighs wrap around him tightly enough to indicate his slowing down till he’s resting idly in you.

The urge Spencer gets after you two finish to place as many kisses on your exposed skin as possible festers again when he’s trying to distract you from the empty feeling of him pulling out.

“Spence,” you gulp back little saliva, “hah, thank you.”

He shakes his head at you again, goofy smile on his face as he’s already forming the highlight reel of the night in his head, reliving it. 

“I’m never going to be too tired for that. I’m in love with you, I’m not too tired for that.”

“Mmkay,” you start petting the wild strands of hair down from his head that you were tugging earlier “consider that lesson learned.” You chirp in finality, eyes closing with a similar exhaustion to Spencers.

“Mm, let me clean you up.”

Even with eyes closed you know his whereabouts, you can hear Spencer’s feet padding against his floors and you can map where he’s going in his apartment depending on how the hardwood dips underneath him. 

In such a tired state, the cool cloth against you barely jolts you as it usually does, the slightly rough fabric against your sensitive skin doesn’t work to jar you, completely in bliss with nothing that can shake you.

You can’t sleep fully without feeling the dip of the mattress and Spencer’s body settled between sheets. With his addition to the bed again, case file extremely discarded, you can lay cradled to his side where the sleep you fall into is so deep you don’t dream at all.

[chunksworld]

Role Model

NewJeans Hanni x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N: A sequel to Double Fantasy. Thank you Kaede for the beta read as always.

————————

“Never have I ever…..” Danielle looks around the room with suspense, tapping her palms on her thighs as if to mimic the sound of a drum roll. You make your way back to the circle and sit down with the rest of your friend group, another can of beer in hand as you impatiently wait for the blonde to speak,  “…..made out with someone here!” You almost spit out the beer you were about to take a swig of but managed to keep your composure. You catch Minji staring at you for a split second before looking away immediately. It’s great that you’re both intoxicated already because there’s no other explanation for how your cheeks flare up. Jeers and whistles follow Danielle’s remark and you can only be thankful that some of your friends do raise their hands up, particularly some of the couples sitting with the rest of the group.

It’s only been a month since you and Minji have made it official—a decision you two contemplated even after you already took her out on a date (and despite having plenty of sex during that time). Sure, hooking up is one thing but committing to a relationship would be a venture much riskier than anything you have ever done especially since you are both graduating in a few months. How would everyone react when they find out that the two people that hate each other with their guts are fucking each other like wild animals at every given opportunity? Well, you two got your answer much quicker than expected when her best friend who also happens to be her next door neighbor, Hanni, caught you leaving Minji’s place way past midnight as you usually do—and this wouldn’t be that big of an issue as you were just about to put your cap and mask back on but she already saw your face as you two opened your doors at the exact same time.

It took everything in her power not to scream in shock as everyone else was already asleep at the time which is something you’ve always thought to be the case. It didn’t take her that long to put two and two together and everything was a blur and you soon found yourself sitting on Minji’s cum-stained bed having to be interrogated by an obviously flabbergasted Hanni Pham at 2:30 AM. Despite her modest stature, no one else looked as intimidating (and cute) as her in her pajamas. At least the scent of sex was quickly taken care of but she couldn’t hide her disgust at the sight of your combined juices on her best friend’s bed. She quickly looked past it though because her burning questions were more important and you two had no choice but to come clean, explaining everything that’s transpired over these past few months. With every revelation, her jaw seemed to be dropping lower and lower to the ground. 

Everything was a bombshell revelation for her; the fact that you two were having sex right next door and that she didn’t hear any of it, the fact that you two pretended to despise each other. But what seemed to shock her the most was that you two are actually dating. It took her a while to process everything—and by “a while” I mean she sat there opposite you two in silence like you’ve just been told off by a very disappointed parent for thirty excruciating minutes (in some ways, Hanni was indeed sort of the parent of the friend group). Thankfully, she agreed to keep her mouth shut about everything and very sternly told you to wear protection in the future because she “doesn’t want to have to babysit yet” to which you obliged. It was peaceful again after that but you knew you had to be more careful in the future because the rest of her friends will absolutely not keep something like this a secret.

“Wanna leave this party already? Can’t wait to ride that thick cock.”

A text, and it’s from the woman sitting directly in front of you—your girlfriend. She didn’t even need to send the text because you could already see in your eyes how badly she wants you. She’s been eye-fucking you for the past hour and it’s absolutely making you hot and bothered. She might as well pounce you in front of everyone if she could. It’s a side effect of her being drunk and with how she’s constantly readjusting her shorts, it’s obvious that Minji wants this night to end with her getting fucked into her bed again. A request that you’ll gladly oblige since this game is already starting to bore you anyways.

“Sure.”

To avoid any suspicion, she leaves first after bidding farewell to everyone. Followed by you twenty minutes later after “accidentally” spilling beer all over yourself. It was a quick getaway like clockwork, having to excuse yourselves plenty of times already from group gatherings just to satisfy your intense libido. It’s a great thing that Danielle’s place is only a five minute drive from Minji’s dorm because you can’t wait to get out of your pants. You excitedly made your way up to her room, disguise and all. Knocking on the door, you expected her to pull you in by your neck and makeout with you but what greeted you was her and Hanni sitting on the bed instead. What the fuck? There was certainly tension in the atmosphere—and silence? This is peculiar; it’s always pandemonium whenever those two best friends hang out—whether it’s Minji teasing Hanni for butchering her Korean or Hanni begging her not to do anything stupid. “Oh, you’re finally here.” Speaking of which, your girlfriend walks over to you and grabs you by your hand.

“Remember when I told you that we have an open relationship?”

Right. 

When you two were establishing the ground rules for your relationship, she made it clear that you were free to see other people. It definitely surprised you as you didn’t think Minji was that type of woman. But then again, you didn’t think she would be so willing to get dicked down by the person she hated the most and yet here you are. Of course you complied with her request. It’s the 21st century after all, so who cares about traditional dating norms? Plus, it’s not like she doesn’t have friends that you’d just like to get to know better and the freedom she gives is a welcome one. But that also meant she’s free to fuck around with other guys, something that bothered you for a while but eventually came to terms with. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Hanni wants you for the night. Sorry I couldn’t tell you through text earlier, didn’t wanna be rude or anything.” How can she be so casual about the entire thing? Especially when this is actually the first time the rule is being put to use. And for it to happen so early into your time together astounds you. Has she been dying to share you with her friends even when you were just casual fuckbuddies? Perhaps, but that’s a question you’ll continue to ask for another day. “You’re not actually about to turn her down are you? Don’t even lie and tell me that you haven’t thought about fucking her.” She’s not exactly wrong and as if she reads your mind, “She’s not a virgin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Minji! I-I don’t want to force him. I just had a crappy first-time with my ex and you always talk about how good he is…..” Hanni’s face turns a darker shade of red with every word spoken and you would’ve almost called her “cute” if it wasn’t for the circumstance. Minji was right, she tends to babble whenever she’s nervous. “If he’s not okay with it I can just—“

“I accept.” You would have to be insane to refuse such an offer. It’s Hanni Pham out of all people. She probably has just as many admirers, maybe even more than Minji. To say that you haven’t let your thoughts run wild whenever she wears an outfit that exposes all of her prominent features would be a big lie. Just like the outfit she’s got on now; a white crop top and shorts, with the varsity jacket the only thing preventing her from exposing more skin. Fuck, she looks so tempting. You really have to get out of your pants sooner or later because the way Minji riled you up earlier isn’t calming your senses anytime soon.“Is there anything specific you want me to do? I’m pretty sure Minji’s already told you how wild we can be.”

“I want you to teach me how to have sex—well, I want you to teach me how to have sex. Properly.” There’s a glimmer of desperation and want in her eyes, her eyes telling you what she can not say directly. Hanni is, and forever will be, your girlfriend’s best friend. But with how tonight is shaping up to be, you might just want to keep coming back for more. “Let’s just take it slow, if that’s fine with you.”

“Don’t worry! He’ll take care of you, right?” Of course. You’ll have to ease her into your world—into you and Minji’s world. Your girlfriend always loved to lead the way every time you fucked her but a change in dynamic with Hanni’s got you even more riled up than you already are. Minji wraps an arm around your shoulder and the way she casually hands you off to her best friend as if you’re a puppy is extremely astounding. When she mentioned that she wants to keep things open between you two, you didn’t think it would include you taking on the task of teaching her friends such a sinful and dangerous act. But it’s not like you’re complaining, one glance over to the short but petite woman in front of you is enough to make you salivate. She takes your silence as an affirmative and is already dragging you two out of her room. “Great! I already placed a condom in your backpocket.” You immediately reach for the back of your pants and sure enough, the aluminum-wrapped piece of contraption is there.

“Have fun! And try not to make too much noise please, I’ve got an exam tomorrow I need to study for okay? Love you both!” A flying kiss is sent to your direction before slamming the door in your face. And despite the confidence you exceeded just mere minutes before, now you find yourself on your backfoot. It’s suffocating, it’s tense, and you don’t know whether you want to just drag her to her room and pin her against the wall or if you want to show some restraint like she told you to. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really known how to take it slow: in life and in bed. Everything is rushed, as if there’s a billion things that need to be done. Maybe things can change for one night only. But Hanni is already one-step ahead of you, gently dragging you by your sleeve towards her room. Her room smells nice, lights turned way down low to a dark shade of red, and her sheets folded up nicely. She notices you scanning her room and before you could get the chance to tease her about being so prepared you find yourself crashing on her bed with her on top.

Excitedly, you lean close to her face to capture her lips but a hand pushes you gently away from her. “S-Sorry, no kissing.” As if to not deflate your ego she quickly interjects, “But you can leave hickeys if you want instead.” That sounds good enough for you, kissing her would bring a whole host of new feelings that you definitely don’t want to explore any time soon so you opt for her irresistible neck instead. She strips away her varsity jacket, leaving her in just her crop top and shorts that are starting to feel warmer by the second. This exposes more skin for you to taste and you dive lower down to her clavicles and collarbones, making sure to leave red marks. Her hands aren’t idle, creeping slowly underneath your shirt as soft moans start to come out of her lips. You eventually take over, flipping your positions so that you’re now on top of her. You find both of her hands and intertwine them with yours, pushing them above her head as you devour her body and leave as much of it red as possible.

“I want to see more of you.” Hanni finally says something after a few minutes and you obey her commands. Your beer-soaked shirt comes off first and joins her varsity jacket on the carpeted floor, Hanni’s eyes immediately darting towards the expanse of your upper body and her wandering hands drag themselves towards your shoulders then down your chest. She’s eyeing you like a piece of meat to devour the same way you are doing to her. You don’t give her much time to ogle however as your lips find their way to her neck once again. Even biting her lips does very little to muffle her moans as you continue to leave mark after mark on her collarbones, drinking in the way she calls for you, yearns for you. A hand makes its way down to her toned tummy and you almost apologize with the way she hisses, “C-Cold….” She mutters, eyes closing and tongue sticking ever so slightly out. You really, desperately want to have a taste of her lips at this very moment and to have them slotted against yours but rules are rules. Even though the way they glisten under the warm, red lights of her room makes it extremely tempting to do so. You distract yourself, you have to. One hand is already fumbling with the straps of her undershirt while the other makes its way further down to her thighs, massaging and appreciating their softness and fullness. The motion causes her to jerk and slightly arch her back off of the bed and you immediately take a step back. Shit, were you being too hasty?

“Sorry, tell me if I’m moving too fast for your liking.” 

You take deep breaths when you pull away as you desperately try to keep your hormones in check and be a gentleman for once but still eyeing her almost naked body in front of you. Hanni shakes her head and wraps her arms around your neck to bring you closer to her again, burying your face on the crook of her neck as you inhale her floral scent. “It’s fine. It’s just—it’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve had a guy touch me down there. Her nails slowly drag their way down your back as you place soft pecks on her neck. “You can touch me wherever you want, I’m yours for tonight.” You hate the way a guttural groan escapes out of your mouth, having been given the green light to completely let loose. You don’t wait this time, yanking her undershirt to reveal a pair of soft and round breasts, perfect for her body size. The absence of a bra surprises you but it’s a welcome one at that. Meanwhile, you work on expertly unbuttoning her denim shorts and they’re thrown off somewhere in the room with hunger and you don’t miss the wet patch already forming on her panties. Interestingly, she doesn’t close her thighs out of embarrassment. In fact, there’s a smile. As if she knows she’s got you right where she wants you.

“Fuck, Hanni. I’m gonna treat you so good tonight. That I can assure you.” You carefully place a pillow behind her, instructing her to sit by the headboard as you remove the final obstruction. It’s at this moment that it truly hits you that Hanni Pham is in front of you, completely naked. Forget winning the lottery, the fact that your girlfriend is allowing you to fuck her friends is a price worth more than anything on this planet. For all the times you imagined how she’d look underneath her clothes, it still doesn’t beat the sight of the actual thing. The way she is curvy and thick at the same time in the most perfect combination possible; she may only be nineteen but she’s certainly grown into a full-fledged woman—one that’s made all of the guys crazy for her. You don’t even hesitate to spread her legs wide, her thighs already soaked when you make your way up to drink in as much of her essence as you possibly can. She’s already quivering under your touch but your strong arms keep her in her place as you continue to taste as much of Hanni Pham. But nothing compares when you finally stick your tongue out and take an experimental lick of her folds, a finger expertly playing with her clit to increase her pleasure.

Hanni is biting her lips so hard that you’re sure it’s bleeding already. You would’ve told her that it’s okay to moan freely because she’s not that loud to begin with but when you start to lick more hungrily and aggressively, plans quickly change. She grabs a pillow to cover her face and stifle her moans, and it’s fortunate that she did so because the sound she makes when you finally stick your tongue inside of her is loud enough for Minji to definitely hear. Knowing her, she will be proud of how well you are eating Hanni out like it’s your last meal. It’s truly heaven right now though, the way she tastes, the way she sounds, and the way her thighs are about to crush your head that you can’t help but reach down to your sweatpants and boxers and pull them down just enough to reveal your aching cock, slowly stroking yourself as precum slowly drips out onto her bed. But tonight is about her and you want to make sure that you’re doing a great job so you don’t even care that your face is drenched with her essence already. You begin to alternate between your finger and tongue, an act that causes her to take exasperated breaths and silent moans as her mouth opens wide. “Cum for me, Pham. I wanna hear you.”

It’s clear that she loves being told what to do because at your command, she starts getting tighter and tighter around your fingers and tongue—her pussy throbbing wildly. So much so that she’s writhing and clinging to the sheets so hard they’re surely going to be ripped off the bed soon. “Hmph! C-Cumming!” It’s all you hear from underneath her pillows when she grabs your hair by the fistful and pushes you closer into her, allowing you to drive your fingers deeper inside her. Thirty seconds. That is all it took for her to come completely undone, arching her sweaty body completely off of her bed and to moan your name shamelessly out loud. Now, you’re really hoping that everyone else is deep asleep because that wasn’t silent at all. Not that you’re going to complain, if everyone wants to know how good the popular girl on campus is being treated, let them. Your face is even more drenched at this point and you are just lapping up every single drop of her juices as she recovers from her mindblowing orgasm. You pull away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand then proceed to lay down beside her. There’s a few fleeting minutes of silence and you’re more than happy to stop here for the night if it’s already too much for her but clearly Hanni is not done yet (which is honestly a great thing for you because you don’t want all of your cum to end up on the shower tiles instead).

Just like what you did to her, she instructs you to sit by the headboard as she crawls her way towards you like a cat. “I wanna return the favor.” It’s no surprise that you are already leaking with precum, your cock swollen and throbbing the minute Hanni pulls your sweatpants and boxers together down. It’s been a while since you’ve had sex with Minji due to how busy you are and you could really use some relieving of tension down there. An audible gasp can be heard from her at the sight of your length, probably wondering how it manages to fit inside her best friend—your girlfriend. She grabs a hair tie off her wrist to turn her hair into a ponytail then uses a finger to swipe at the precum continuing to drip out of your cockhead. You don’t know if she’s teasing you but that look of satisfaction on her face as she brings that finger inside her mouth like she’s eating ice cream is downright erotic. “Need that mouth on my cock, Hanni. Please.” You may be the one in charge but she’s got you wrapped around her fingers much like Minji does at this very moment. Once done with her “snack”, she forms a fist around your cock, beginning to pump you at a leisurely pace and now you’re the one closing your eyes and groaning her name

Hanni scans your expressions to find the perfect pace and soon, she’s fondling your balls as well. Are you sure she doesn’t know how to have proper sex? Because the heavenly touch of her fingers and the way she’s cupping your heavy balls suggests that she wants you to explode all over her face even though you want to save it somewhere else. Now she’s dictating the pace and before you can tell her to slow it down a little, lowers her head down to your cock and slowly but surely behind to take you inside her mouth inch by inch. It looks like if there's one thing her ex taught her, it’s how to give a blowjob because her gag reflex is essentially nonexistent as she takes you all the way to the back of her throat. The feeling is electrifying and numbing both at once; her mouth is nice and warm and cozy—a toe-curling experience that can only be described as fucking amazing. 

“Your mouth takes cock so well, shit.” She hums with your cock still inside her mouth, forming a vacuum to increase your pleasure and another groan of her name leaves your mouth. You really want to facefuck her now and have her mouth overflowing with cum, the imagery causing you to throb continuously inside her and you will have to regretfully pull her away from you soon before it gets messy. It only takes a while before a burst of precum inside her is what finally leads you to leave the confines of her mouth before it’s all too late. As much as those lips of hers look great glazed with a load of yours, she deserves better. One last kiss of your tip before she gets up on her knees and you’re noticing her thighs glistening much more than before. “I have a feeling this won’t be the last time I’ll ask for your services.” That you have to agree with, though you find it interesting how she’s making it sound like you are her male escort. Again, not that you’re complaining. “Now, fuck me will you?”

You quickly search your sweatpants for the condom, hurriedly ripping the packaging and placing it on your drenched cock before walking back to the edge of the bed where Hanni is sitting. “Right, so how do you want me?” You stand proudly in front of her, your cock clearly showing where it wants to be: inside her. While she contemplates, you stroke your cock back to hardness which wasn’t difficult considering her naked sight in front of you. She doesn’t say anything else but instead makes you sit on the edge of the bed like her. She then walks over to straddle your lap, and you don’t even have the opportunity to ask her what she’s planning when her tight heat is already sinking down on your cock. That action is enough for her to drop her head onto your shoulder as she tries to get acclimated to the size and feeling of your cock inside her. “Fucking hell, are you sure you’re not a virgin?” It wouldn’t be surprising if she lied to you all this time because not even eating her out and fingering her is enough to loosen her up—or maybe you’re just too big for her small and petite body. Either way, you needed some time to recover as well. Think about something else because the way she’s grinding her hips on your cock is downright heavenly. It’s only fortunate that there’s a thin layer of rubber in between you two in case your orgasm comes without any warning because she’s clearly an expert at this too. Do you even need to teach her anything, really?

“Y-You’re bigger than my ex! Didn’t think—fuck—didn’t think dicks can get this large.” They do, especially when it’s her that’s being fucked but you’re so lost into your own pleasures that you forget to respond. You’re not one to accept and respond to compliments well, especially when a beautiful woman is bouncing on your cock and using you as her personal dildo so you keep your mouth shut. Despite your size, Hanni eventually does get used to it because she’s slowly transitioning from grinding into bouncing when she holds on to your shoulders for support. And you can’t help but stare at the way her tits jiggle mesmerizingly in rhythm every time she comes down hard on your cock. Since she’s already given you a green light to have your way on her body, you lean down to capture her left nipple on your mouth while fondling the other. That action causes her to clench tighter around your cock and it only encourages you to suck on her tits harder, tongue swirling around her nipple. You repeat this motion with her right nipple to make sure it receives the attention it deserves. You just can’t get enough of her because even when you’re done with her breasts you’re placing kisses and licking her everywhere, each acreage of porcelain skin is marked by your kisses and you’re going to make sure that she has a hard time covering it up tomorrow.

You didn’t know when exactly it happened but your thrusts now elicit a strong reaction from her, nails taking down your back and leaving scratches that will surely sting once you get in the shower later but you must’ve hit a spot that not even her ex or her dildos could reach because she’s downright screaming and having to bury herself on your neck to lower down the volume. Quickly taking advantage of this, you start thrusting upwards in response to her bounces and she’s basically cursing and moaning your name by this point as her sweaty body clings on to you. 

“Tell me if you’re gonna cum, Hanni. I’ll make sure to give you the best one you ever had.” A whisper to her contrasting loud moans as you leave kisses on the side of her head and eventually, her forehead. No verbal response but you can feel her nod against your shoulders and that’s when you knew it was time to bring it home. You wrap your arms around her waist tightly and try to hit that spot again and again. Cries of pleasure reverberates around her tiny room and she’s shivering against you as her orgasm overtakes her again. A much stronger orgasm that has her pussy squeezing tightly around your cock but you manage to hold on despite dying to cum inside her.

You hold on to her arms to prevent her from falling backwards, patting her back gently and fixing any disheveled hair caused by the mess. “D-Did you cum, too?” A shameful ‘no’ leaves your lips and you’re scared that she’ll think that she’s not a good fuck, that you were just forcing everything you were doing for the past thirty minutes when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Hanni pulls away from her neck to look at you in surprise, then it hits her. “You want to cum in my pussy, don’t you? Fine, I’ll just take a morning pill.” You’re glad Minji briefed her already, because the one place you don’t want your cum to end up in is a twenty dollar condom. If it was quick for you to put the condom on then it’s even quicker to take it off as you briefly get her off of you. Her slick has caused it to shrink around your cock but it doesn’t matter as you snap it off and throw it in the trash. Pull her down to your lap again, this time it is easy to sink her back down to your cock and you quickly get to fucking.

The lack of latex makes for an extreme sensation that has you moaning and groaning as you fuck her for the second time. But that’s not enough as you lift both of you from her bed and carry her in your arms, causing her to tightly wrap your limbs around you as gravity aids you in fucking her. It’s the perfect position because you get two handfuls of her ass while she bounces on your cock and because she’s somehow louder than before as you are basically splitting her in half. Every single thrust drives your tip into her cervix and you’re sure she’s seeing stars by the way she’s clinging on to you for dear life as you fold her up like a lawn chair in this position. It’s so easy to manhandle her, the way her light body just bends to your will and you’ll definitely give her a much bigger load now that you are fucking her raw. The loud slaps of skin fill the room as you continue to fuck up into her, not even waiting for her to come down before you thrust again. There’s no way you’re absolutely lasting longer than ten minutes this time because of how you prevented yourself from cumming twice already so you end up jackhammering into her, the tension in your balls increasing by the second as you are ready to unload. 

“Cum in me!“ is all you hear before the overwhelming sensation and tension finally snaps, the first rope of hot cum causes a smaller, second orgasm from Hanni. It’s fucking euphoric and blissful, the way each rope takes away all of your frustrations—filling every single space inside her womb, the way it coats your cock and drips back down to your balls and to her floor with how much you came inside her, the way it completely takes over your body, causing you to fall back down to her bed and bring her with you. “Cum for me again, can you do that for me?” A faint voice from Hanni as she gyrates her hips to match your thrusts. It’s not like you were planning on doing anything different. You can’t stop, won’t stop pumping into her despite both of you being oversensitive and sure enough, you find yourself unloading inside her for a second time five minutes later as if you didn’t already cum inside her. This fresh load replaces the previous one and soon, her sheets are soiled with cum as well. You haven’t cum this hard and this much in a while, the prospect of fucking your girlfriend’s best friend making you hornier than you have been before and it’s showing.

It’s a sticky mess once everything finally settles down, with her finding it difficult to get off of you with how much semen you’ve unloaded inside her that she’s definitely going to need that morning pill. A mess between her thighs is what you have to show for it once she does and you’re absolutely spent when she lays down beside you. “Fuck, that was hot.” Surprisingly, she still has the strength to get off her bed and collect both of your clothes while also cleaning herself up in the process. Right. This is not Minji’s room and it would be even more scandalous if other people find out you just had sex with your girlfriend’s best friend. She quickly throws you your clothes and you work on putting them back on. “You’re as good as advertised, I’ll definitely recommend you to Danielle.” Danielle? Her varsity jacket and shorts are worn in a hurry, along with her crop top and bra. “She hasn’t had good dick in a while, you see.” She grabs your phone and makes you unlock it, tapping furiously at the screen for a few seconds before handing it back to you. “I just saved her number so you won’t get spooked when she messages you for her dick appointment. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my mouth shut about you and Minji.” It’s a great thing that you’re already fully clothed because she’s dragging you by your arms and out of her dorm. “Ok, see you! I’ll keep in touch with you again.” You don’t dare to ask any questions at this point so you decide to walk back to Minji’s room again. 

“Wait!” But she stops you on your tracks, this time that shy and nervous expression making its appearance on her face once more. “And uh, I forgot something.” She grabs your phone again and taps on the screen furiously like she did earlier, and as you were about to take it back from her she grabs you forcefully and places a kiss on your lips.

Smooch.

“I also added my number. Maybe I’ll ask Minji if we can share you in more ways than one.” Then a wink, then you feel a gust of wind hitting your face after she closes the door.

What the fuck?  

[aventurineswife]

I also can't fathom the idea of Dr. Ratio being a bad father, always harping about the importance of academic abilities. I mean yeah, for sure he'd still value the intellectual growth of his child, but Ratio has shown that he supports the growth of others by removing dangerous factors that could prove detrimental to their growth.

Ratio's first arc with the trailblazer revealed that he had actually already taken care of the most dangerous parts of the situation, but encouraged the people around him to solve the case because he wanted to teach them through experience.

And let's not forget him breaking out of character when he started genuinely getting worried for Aventurine & his plan. Ratio may not be your typical affectionate father now (he might change in the future) but he IS capable of toning down his pride, valuing other virtues aside from academics, and most importantly, discernment.

Absolutely, you’ve nailed it! Dr. Ratio is a much more layered character than just being some hyper-intellectual taskmaster. His actions in the first arc, as you mentioned, show that he’s not just about solving problems himself but fostering growth in others. He understands the importance of practical experience and teaching through challenges rather than spoon-feeding solutions. That alone is a testament to his nuanced perspective on growth and learning, something that a bad father archetype would lack.

The scene with Aventurine is another key moment that speaks volumes about his character. The fact that he could break out of his usual demeanor when genuinely concerned shows he’s capable of prioritizing the well-being of others, even over his calculated methods. It demonstrates he’s more emotionally connected than he lets on—his pride doesn’t blind him to the needs of those he cares about.

It’s not that Ratio is incapable of valuing other virtues, like emotional intelligence or discernment, but rather that he likely expresses them in ways that are subtler and less overtly affectionate. If anything, that makes him an interesting and realistic father figure—not perfect, but certainly not the unfeeling academic some fics might paint him as.

Dr. Ratio’s growth as a character would naturally extend to his parenting style. He’s shown he’s willing to adapt, reassess, and change when necessary. If he were to become a father, he’d probably strike a balance between intellectual encouragement and respecting his child’s individuality and emotional needs. It’s just part of who he is—brilliant, but also capable of humility and care when the situation demands it.

@kaveriahsolos115 (sorry for tagging you again 😭🙏)

[bonkybuchananbarnes]

There She Goes (2)

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Bucky Barnes x AFAB!Reader

You're a bright superhero popstar, and he's a quiet, brooding ex-assassin who seeks redemption. The two of you are like sun and moon. When Bucky suddenly moves in with the Avengers, you stop at nothing, trying to become closer with him. What could possibly go wrong?

Au!Post Civil War where all the Avengers are alive. This story is a slow-burn romcom!

Title and story inspired by the song There She Goes by The La's

Series tags: sunshine x grumpy trope, strangers to friends to lovers, 2000s romcom vibes, crackfic, reader is a bold outgoing flirt and Bucky is a self reserved shy?man, fluff & crack fic, some angst, bucky is trying to heal and you try to help him, maybe future smut?

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chapter summary: You try to get to know the new kid on the block and notice that he has Steve's little brown notebook.

chapter warnings: none. although has a bit of angst!

A/N: i have SOOOO many ideas for this fic i'm actually excited for once lol

also, sam wilson is sooooo best friend coded but one of these days i'm going to make him an x reader fic. he's so underrated and needs more love.

Word count: 2k-ish?

Bucky frowned as his spoon of cereal lingered midway from his bowl and his mouth. His eyes bore into your figure as he watched you plop down on the dining table and sat across him. The books and papers that you once held on to scattered throughout the kitchen table. The brooding man watched as one of your pens that escaped your pencil case roll into his cereal bowl with a small ‘clink’.

‘Good morning Bucky!’ you greeted cheerily. With your elbows propped up on the kitchen table, you set your face between your two palms as you stared at him with a cheery expression. 

Was the sun rising even higher this morning or did the room suddenly get unbearably bright?

His left eye twitched.

Ignoring your greeting, Bucky shovelled the spoon of cereal into his mouth and returned his focus back to his breakfast bowl.

The cold demeanor didn’t phase you at all. You were determined to become Bucky Barnes' friend. He was tall and handsome. You just had to add him to your collection of himbos, which currently consisted of Thor, Steve and Sam.

Maybe Bruce Banner too on a good day.

‘Did you sleep well on your first night here?’

A long pause before he answered. ‘Not really.’

‘Hm. How do you like the Tower?’

‘It’s okay.’

‘You’re lying. You used to live in this super ugly and run down apartment in Bucharest. Trust me sweet stuff, Stevie showed me photos. Don’t pretend that you don’t enjoy this insane upgrade.’ you huffed as you crossed your arms.

Bucky’s eyes flickered up and squinted at you when you called him sweet stuff. The nickname didn’t sit right with him.

‘Don’t you ever stop talking? God, you’re worse than Sam.’ he groaned.

‘Why thank you! Always wanted to one up him in something.’

The man stared at you incredulously, annoyed and slightly impressed that everything he did did not phase you at all.

You leaned in closer. ‘Wow, Sammy was right. You do have a staring problem. Not that I mind though. You’re very handsome and your blue eyes are stunning.’ you blurted out suddenly.

The super soldier flinched back. He knew that you were straight forward, but this was just crazy for him. It was too much for him to bear.

You blinked at his sudden action. Then a laugh escaped your stomach. 

‘Alright, I know you’re from the 40s and during that era women were still prissy little dames, but there’s now way you can’t be foreign to an idea of straightforward women!’ you said between your fits of laughter.

Bucky warily watched you laugh as he began to eat again. He needed to finish his bowl of cereal. He had to get to his therapy session with Dr. Raynor. Not that he wanted to go anyways, he had to because of his pardon. 

It was going to be a loooong day for him.

Once you calmed down from your laughing fit, your eyes made their way towards a small brown notebook resting next to Bucky’s bowl of Lucky Charms.

‘Hey, isn’t that Stevies? Why do you have it?’ you inquired, pointing to the book.

Bucky made a ‘hm?’ noise as his eyes followed to where you were pointing at.

You found that particular action of his cute.

‘He gave it to me. No longer has a use for it, scratched out all the things he did on the list.’ he answered.

Your mouth made an ‘o’ shape in response. But before he could blink, your hands snatched the book from his side.

‘Hey!’ he yelped as he hopelessly tried to snag the book back. 

‘Nice try Buckaroos, but they call me Sunshine for a reason!’ you gleefully said.

‘Don’t call me that.’

Ignoring his last sentence, you opened the notebook. The pages were slightly yellowed and crumpled on the edges, meaning it was well used. Your fingertips skimmed through the small pages until you landed on the list. Scanning down the written words, your eyes stopped at something you knew Sam brought up.

‘Ah, of course. The Troubleman by Marvin Gaye. Tsk tsk, Sammy, your taste could be better.’ you tutted, shaking your head at the same time. ‘Bucko, have you listened to the Troubleman yet?’

‘I like 40s music.’ he responded.

‘I get it, Bing Crosby is the goat. But let me do you one better; Stevie Wonder - Songs In The Key Of Life. You won’t regret it.’ 

Bucky regretted looking up at you. Your chest was puffed up like a bird trying to attract a mate. You looked really proud at your suggestion.

It was so stupid it almost made him laugh. Keyword; almost.

‘Sunshine, are you downplaying Marvin Gaye right now?’ Sam called out as he shuffled next to you. In his hands were two iced lattes, one which he gracefully slid over in front of you.

A small smirk danced on your lips as you dramatically clutched your chest, letting out the fakest gasp Bucky has ever heard. 

‘You wound me! Why would I ever downplay Marvin Gaye? He made Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, which is a brilliant song by the way.’ 

‘That song wasn’t even on the Troubleman album!’ Sam exasperated as he threw up his hands in the air in frustration. 

Bucky watched as you and Sam bickered about who the superior artist was; Stevie Wonder or Marvin Gaye. He wanted to slip away quietly and leave, but strangely he kept his place and sat through the whole debacle. 

Maybe it was because he secretly found the two of you amusing. But he would never admit that. 

‘Of course I would know better! I'm a singer after all!’ you scoffed, throwing a diva fit towards Sam.

Now that interested Bucky. 

‘You’re a singer?’ he piqued up slowly.

A sudden silence suddenly filled the dining area as you and Sam slowly turned away from each other and faced the super soldier. A bright smile replaced your scowl as Bucky’s sudden interest in your career made you ecstatic. 

‘Why yes I am! Do you want to see one of my music videos? Hold on, let me put on Spotify for you and show you my newest hit!’ you excitedly proposed to him. 

‘Hold on, run that back. Bucky, you're asking questions about people? Sweet Jesus this is an amazing development!’ Sam praised. 

James Barnes regretted opening his inquisitive mouth. 

‘Nevermind, forget what I said.’ he sighed. 

Bucky tried to get up from his chair and move somewhere else so he could eat his Lucky Charms in peace, but your flailing hands got in the way as you ran to his side (how did you get there so fast?)

‘Come on Buck! Don't leave yet! You asked if I sang, so I gotta show you that I do sing!’ you pleaded. 

‘Listen (Y/n), don't call me Buck. Only Steve can call me that. Also, I need to leave, I'm going to be late with my appointment with Dr. Raynor.’ 

His strong arm gently moved you out of his way as he quickly turned the corner to the bedroom area. The two of you simply watched as he disappeared down the hall.

You left a small sigh of defeat. So much for making an acquaintance.

Sam gave you a sympathetic look. ‘Listen Sunshine, I know you’re ecstatic about another hot man living here but you gotta give him some space. He's been through a lot.’

‘And you think I haven't?’ you snapped back. ‘Sam, it may look like fun and games but believe me, I know what it's like to be alone. And I don't want him to be alone.’ you quietly finished. Your fingers timidly grazed your left arm as a pathetic attempt to soothe yourself.

He softened his gaze with your confession. ‘Look at you, so empathetic and understanding. Is that why you were so adamant on befriending Thor as well?’ 

A teasing look suddenly appeared on your features, replacing the once sad smile that once danced on your face. ‘Nah Sammy, I was just hellbent on seeing his big blond beautiful self everyday.’

An aggressive eye roll and a playful smirk was all you got in response from Sam. ‘Anywho, I see you got your papers scattered again. Writing a new song?’

Your fingers lightly tapped against the cool marble dining table. ‘To be honest with you, it's getting harder these days to write a good authentic original piece of music.’ you sadly confessed. 

‘Well, there’s nothing wrong with sampling a few hooks here or there you know.’ Sam piqued. 

‘Oh?’ you said, raising your eyebrows. ‘So I supposed I can sample some Marvin Gaye?’ 

You were met by a light push of Sam's shoulders against yours as he gave you a painful smile. ‘Now you're pushing your luck Sunshine. I don't give you permission to tarnish his work.’

‘You wound me, and here I thought you were my best friend!’ you mourned mockingly.

A light laugh passed his lips, with you following after. 

—------------

God he hated public transit. Everything was too loud. New York subways has to be one of the levels of hell that he was taught as a young boy, because that's how he felt right now sitting in the rickety old subway car on the way to Dr. Raynor's.

Hell. He was in hell. Like he already wasn't living in hell for the past 70 years. 

His eyes met with the homeless man sitting across from him. The old scrawny dude stared back at him, unblinkingly with eyes that looked like they were popping out of their sockets. Bucky felt like there were holes being burned into his eyes.  

Maybe he did have a staring problem. 

A sigh left his lips. Breaking away from the homeless man’s burning gaze, Bucky hung his head low as he rummaged his metal fingers through his brown mop of hair. He just wanted to live in peace, after continuously fighting for almost a century without a break. Steve’s proposition for him to live at the Avengers tower didn’t exactly warrant the peace he wanted. But even if he didn’t want to admit it, he needed to stop pushing people away.

The rest of the ride was a blur and before he knew it, he found himself on that uncomfortable couch in the office room, facing the empty chair in front of it. Dr. Raynor was yet to arrive, so he sat in silence waiting for her.

The quiet tick of the moving clock was the only thing Bucky heard, until his super hearing picked up a song being played by the radio in the reception area. It was very faint, but he could hear it clear as day; it was your voice singing.

A fraction of an inch of his eyes widened as he carefully listened. Your singing voice was not what he expected. While he was introduced to your boisterous and outgoing talking voice, it contrasted to what he was hearing right now. A beautiful melody ripped through your throat as you sang with passion, with a catchy tune accompanying you.

He would hate to admit it, but it wasn’t terrible.

Actually, he really enjoyed it.

He zoned out as he listened through the whole song, not noticing that the therapist walked and took her place on the seat in front of him.

‘-es Barnes? Are you ready to start?’ Dr. Raynor started.

Bucky snapped it out. It was almost like your voice called to him like a siren singing to a sailor.

He warily looked up at Dr. Raynor and let out a tired smile. ‘Sorry doc, was out of it for a second.’ 

She shot him an incredulous look before she started the session.

…

A half hour painfully passed by. The therapy session came to a close.

Dr. Raynor sighed. ‘James, you need to stop pushing people away. You only contact Steve, and you don’t even answer Sam’s texts. That is so sad.’

The super soldier clenched his jaw but said nothing. She was right. Steve was right. He was given a chance of redemption, something he felt he didn’t deserve. There were people who wanted to reach out to him. Steve, Sam, some others.

And you.

‘Yeah.’ he croaked. 

The doctor closed her notebook and got up to leave. ‘I’ll see you next week Bucky.’

A small click of a door is all he heard.

Walking out of the room and into the reception area, he slowly made his way towards the exit before he paused, then reached out of the pen sitting at the counter of the check in desk. Pulling out the brown notebook from his breast pocket, he flipped his fleshed fingers to a fresh page and began to scribble something down.

(Y/n). Sunshine.

Stevie Wonder -  Songs In The Key Of Life.

As quickly as he wrote, Bucky shut the notebook and shoved it back into his breast pocket of his leather jacket and walked out, with a new song of yours faintly playing in the reception area once more.

He would have to ask about your favourite song in that album when he got back to the Tower.

[gators-aid]

decode (pt. 3) - toji f. x reader

masterlist

part two | part four

previously titled: leave us

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, cheating, underage (mentions they have sex, but nothing explict, toji and reader are high school freshmen), mentioned eating disorder (not really a disorder, reader just forgets to eat, tag is just in case), mention of domestic abuse (not between toji & reader), americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 3.4k

You had met Toji in your first year of high school at some house party. Some sophomore that Utahime knew was throwing it, giving the two of you an in. 

You and Utahime had been dancing on the dude’s couch, bottles in hand. You had never really drank before, but you made sure to keep yourself aware enough to get the two of you home by the end of the night. Your house was a fifteen minute walk from here, and your plan was to sneak the two of you through your window before three. 

That’s when you saw him. He was leaning against the wall talking to some girl. Just by his looks, you thought he might have been a couple years above you. He was tall, taller than most guys in the house, and definitely more muscular. You were immediately attracted, Utahime giggled at you once she saw where you were looking. “You should go talk to him!” She slurred, still moving to the sound of the music with you. 

“Seems like he’s got his hands busy.” You whisper-yelled over the music. He had them all over that girl.

“Utahime!” You heard from below the two of you. Hakari, the guy whose house this was (and your future coworker), held on to her hand as she almost stumbled over to look down at him. “We’re gonna play seven minutes in heaven! Y’all wanna come?” 

“That’s fucking corny!” Utahime giggled, “Let’s go, Y/N!” The two of you followed in a straight line behind Hakari to a relatively empty, but still extremely loud hallway. You all sat down in a circle with a group of students you didn’t recognize. 

“Hey, you guys weren’t gonna start the fun without us, right?” You hear from behind you. It’s the guy from earlier. He pushes his hair (you think it's black, but can’t tell from the lighting) back and takes a swig of a beer bottle. The girl from earlier is with him, along with another guy you didn’t recognize. 

“Toji, let us use that bottle. Hakari broke the other one!” One guy yells over the music. “Thought this was seven minutes in heaven,” A girl with stark white hair begins, “You don’t need a bottle for that game.” 

“Too much work to write everyone’s names down, there’s a bunch of freshmen here. I don’t know them.” Hakari responds. 

“Scoot over!” The tall guy, Toji, yells at you over the music, and you do. Allowing his group of three to squeeze in next to you. Utahime giggles and leans over your lap to address him. “Hey!” She yells, almost falling over your lap. “What’s your name? My friend Y/N-”

“I’ll go first!” you yell, hoping to silence her before she can say anything embarrassing.

“Wheeeew look at the brave young freshman!” Hakari yells. “Hey, what’s your name again?” You ignore him and spin the bottle. 'Damn,' you think, 'I’m actually going to have to go into a closet with someone after this.' You just wanted to interrupt Utahime. 

It lands on some guy you don't recognize.

“Wee woo wee woo!” Hakari yells, mocking a police siren. “New rule, freshman and senior pairings will not be allowed! Go again!” he yells at you. The group bursts out laughing as you grab the bottle to spin again. 

The bottle spins and spins until it lands on… the girl that Toji was making out with earlier. She makes a face and looks at you. “I’m not into girls, sorry!” She yells. 

“I am!” Utahime announces to the group. 

“What the hell, Takako, you have such a dirty mind!” Hakari says. You can feel Toji eyeing you. It’s slightly unsettling. “Seven minutes in heaven does not imply romantic or sexual advances!” 

She scoffs, “Then why didn’t you let her go in there with Kenjaku?” You’re doing everything you can to avoid Toji’s gaze. Seriously, what was this dude’s problem? Was there something on your face? Did your makeup come off to reveal the big ass pimple on your cheek? Shit, you knew you should’ve used more setting spray.

“Because it’s my duty to protect the young women attending my party, Takako! Better safe than sorry.” 

Suddenly, you see a hand go down to the bottle and tilt it slightly. It’s Toji, and he’s pointed the bottle directly at himself. “Well, would you look at that! Seems like the bottle has mysteriously landed on me and not Takako!” He yells over the music. 

You take this time to finally look him in the face. From this close, you notice the scar on the side of his lip, his piercing green eyes. 

“But…” you say, confused, “they said no seniors and freshmen.” 

The group bursts into laughter. “Don’t know if I should be offended or not.” He says. 

“He’s in our year, Y/N!” Utahime exclaims, “He’s in my algebra class, I couldn’t remember his name though…” 

“Wait, this isn’t how it works!” Takako says, panicked. Now that you’ve already looked at Toji, you can see her arm locked into his, she’s yelling into the group’s circle. 

“The bottle lands where it lands!” Toji says, throwing his arms up. “Come on, mama,” he starts, untangling from Takako. “We got seven minutes.”

He grabs your arm and leads you to the hall closet. You can hear whoops and whistles from behind you, but you don’t know if it’s from your small group or from the rest of the party goers. 

He turns the light on, and the two of you push back winter coats to make room in the closet. He closes the door behind the two of you. For a moment he’s quiet. He just looks at you. “You’re really pretty.” He says, leaning against the door, a little too cockily for a high school freshman. 

“Thanks.” You say quietly. It’s a little less loud in the closet, music muffled by the bundle of winter coats. “Is um.. Is Takako your girlfriend or something?”

He laughs, “Why do you ask?” 

“Because it’s pretty fucked up if you took me in here with her sitting right out there.” 

He smiles. “Nah.” He says, leaning closer to you. “She’s not.” 

You can feel his breath on your face, and smell his cologne from here. It’s a little strong, you can smell the beer in his breath too. “She’s into you though,” you say. He leans closer and you put your hand gently on his chest. Your lips are millimeters apart. “That was kinda mean,” He laughs again. “To be really, really honest, I don’t give a fuck about her.” 

“That's really mean.” You respond, and suddenly your lips are on each other. This isn’t your first kiss, but Toji makes it feel like it is. You two grasp onto each other desperately, hold onto each other like you’ve known each other for years, like he’s a long lost love. 

It doesn’t escalate from there, you two just kiss and kiss and kiss. 

You don’t notice how long it’s been until you hear a knock on the door. Toji pulls away from your face and rests his forehead on yours. “Damn.” He says, licking his lips. 

That night, Toji had offered to drive you and Utahime home. You had spent the last couple hours at the party together, you continued drinking while Toji refrained, wanting to drive you home. 

He had helped you sneak Utahime into your bedroom. In your time spent with Toji, you hadn’t noticed her drinking more and more, so by the time you got her into Toji’s car, she was passed out cold. 

You had held Utahime in your arms as Toji climbed into your window and pulled her through. You climbed in after. 

“Thank you so much.” You said to him as the two of you lay her in your bed. “You’re seriously a life saver.” 

“It’s no problem, anything for a pretty lady like you.” You rolled your eyes. 

He climbed back out your window, turning around to face you one more time before you left. You lent onto your window sill and smiled at him. “I’ll see you on Monday?” you asked. He smiled back. “I’ll see you then.” He lent up and kissed you on the lips once more before turning back around and walking to his truck. 

You did see him on Monday. And almost every Monday after. 

You and Toji became incredibly close incredibly fast. Toji clung to you for affection, you clung to him for attention. You sat together at lunch everyday. He’d buy you Cokes from the overpriced vending machine and you’d invite him into your bedroom everytime it got to be too much at home. You guys never officially started dating, it just seemed like it happened overnight. 

He never came over during the day. You were too nervous to tell your mother and he was too nervous to meet her. 

She didn’t know you even had a boyfriend until Toji cheated on you. Not the best introduction. You were working late at the diner, you often did on weekends to speed up the process of your college fund. It was Shoko who had told you. 

She, Geto, and Gojo had come to the diner after leaving a party. They were all clearly a little tipsy, so one of the older servers had passed them off onto you. “I’m not dealing with definitely-not-drunk teenagers at this time of night. I’m ready to go home.” 

“Oh my god! I know you! You’re Y/N! We’re in the same government class!” Geto slurred. You smiled at him. “How are you guys doing? You go to Hakari’s party?” You asked.

“Yeah! It was really fun, but Gojo’s curfew is at one so we gotta get him sobered up.” Geto supplied.

“Hey, Y/N, are you still with Toji? I see you too together alllllll the time at school.” Gojo slurred. You laughed. “Kind of.” You and Toji had gotten into an argument that afternoon. Toji was going to that same party, and you, having to work, couldn’t go with. Somehow, it turned into an argument about who does more for who. You weren’t broken up, and you weren’t on a break, but you were both certainly angry with each other. 

“Ohhhh what the fuck?” Gojo said, looking wide-eyed at his friends. They all looked between each other, clearly confused and talking to each other through their facial expressions. 

“Uhh, Y/N, can you just get us some waters, and can you get Gojo like an omelet or some shit?” Shoko says. “Uhh yeah! Of course!” 

“No mushrooms!” Gojo shouts as you walk away. You turn and give him a thumbs up. 

That whole night, you could feel the tension from the table. Like they all felt bad for you. Like they pitied you. After they paid the bill and Geto and Gojo walked out, Shoko called you over. “Hey, Y/N, you almost done working?” She asked. 

“Yeah, you guys were my last table for tonight. What’s up?” 

“Look,” she says, “I don’t know what’s up with you and Toji, it’s not my business, but I think you should probably know he and Takako were all over each other at Hakari’s tonight.” She looked into your eyes to gauge a reaction. 

Your heart had dropped. You could feel your fingertips tingling like you had lost all the blood in them. They felt lighter than the rest of your body. “Oh, uh, yeah it's not a big deal.” You say. You start to wring your hands on your waist apron. “Thanks for letting me know, though.” You attempt a smile at her. She looks at you with pity and concern, until you can almost visibly see her say ‘fuck it’ in her head. She leans in and gives you a hug. 

You vowed it not to be true, but Shoko had no reason to lie to you. Gojo and Geto had no reason to act so strange when you mentioned you’re still with Toji. Shoko bringing up Takako was not a coincidence. 

You squeeze her back and you can feel your breathing picking up. “T-Thank, um, Thank you.” you say. 

You didn’t call him when your shift was over for him to pick you up as usual, instead opting to take the bus route. You got home that night, thankful to see that your mother had already gone to sleep. You ignored the food she left for you in the fridge and went straight to the shower.

You didn’t cry until you got into bed, when you could smell his cologne on your pillow. You stayed like that for hours. Curled up, silently sobbing, until you heard a light knocking on your window. You knew who it was. The only person it could be, 

“Y/N?” He whispered through the window. He sounded panicked. You could hear the pane slide up and him climb in. 

“Oh, shit, thank god.” He whispered, climbing into your bed. His voice was shaking. “Hey, you awake, mama?”

You turned around to face him. “You had me scared, baby.” He said, moving your hair out of your face. “You never called after your shift. Just ‘cause you’re mad at me doesn’t mean I won’t come get you.”

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” You asked, your voice cracking.

“Huh?” 

“You. Fucked. Her. Didn’t. You?” 

His hand froze on your cheek. 

You sat up in your bed. “You fucked her, and then you wanted to come and see me after?” You asked, voice rising with each word. 

“Hey-”

“What?” You ask. You’re fully yelling now. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Y/N, stop yelling.” He warns. He stands up from the bed. You stand up and get in his face.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Toji!” You pushed his chest. He didn’t move an inch. “You don’t get to come in here, acting like you’re all worried about me! Acting like you give a fuck!” You were full on sobbing by now.

“Y/N-”

“What the hell is going on in here?” You hear your door swing open and whip around to see your mother standing at the door with a baseball bat in hand. 

Shit.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house? Get the hell out of here!” 

Toji books it out the window, looking at you one last time before leaving. 

“What the hell are you thinking, Y/N? You have a boy in here?” She yells at you. “You’re too young for this! Doing this under my roof, are you insane?” 

You just stand there staring at the floor. “Mom?” You ask, voice cracking. She sets the bat down by your door and rushes to your side. “Did he hurt you? Y/N? What did he do?” You cling onto the back of her shirt and cry into her neck. “Mom-” Is all you can get out before you’re violently shaking and you can feel your knees give out. 

It’s a week later when you see Toji again. Your mother had let you stay home from school for a day, and when you got back, Toji was nowhere to be found. 

Word got around school quickly. If it hadn’t been Shoko who told you, It could’ve been ten other people. Utahime and Saori, another girl you befriended, became your lunch buddies, taking Toji’s place. 

You didn’t want to seem as hurt as you felt, not with Takako grinning at you in the halls every time she saw you. 

He was at your window that night. You didn’t have work, and had taken the free time to catch up on some assignment you had missed. You heard a knock on your window and immediately tensed. “Fuck.” You whispered to yourself when you heard the pane slide up. 

You hadn’t even thought about locking your window. Didn’t expect Toji to want anything to do with you. 

“I saw the light on." He explained, like it gave him the right to come in, "Can we talk?” He whispered, “and can you not yell?” You didn’t look up at him. He towered over you from where you sat at your desk. “Can’t promise you anything.” You said. You pretended to work on an algebra problem, but you couldn’t focus with him in the room. 

“Come with me to my truck then.” He pleads. You tap your pencil on the wooden desk and turn your head to look up at him. He looks a mess. Hair mussed like he hadn’t brushed it in days, clothes rumpled and stained. His right eye sports a fading black ring around it. 

You bite your lip. You refuse to show any concern, but you're too curious. You point your pencil at his eye, “What happened there?” He stares at you for a second.

“Can you come or not?” He asks. This would be a common occurrence throughout the rest of your relationship. Toji showing up with a new bruise and brushing you off when you question it.

“Can you answer my question?” You taunt back. 

“Please, Y/N.” 

You sigh and throw your pencil down on the desk. “I’m doing homework, Toji.” You respond. 

“Please.” He begs. 

You know you shouldn’t. You and your mother had had a lengthy conversation just this morning. “You need to stay away from boys like him.” she said as she moved around the kitchen to prepare you breakfast. This hadn’t been a common occurrence until she noticed you had stopped eating. It wasn’t intentional, you just didn’t have the energy for it anymore. “They don’t do anything but lead you down a path you don’t want to go down, Y/N.” She says, placing a plate of eggs and toast in front of you. “He’s showing you who he is right now. Believe him.” 

You contemplated it. You knew, deep down, that you shouldn’t. Knew you should’ve called for your mom the second he tapped on your window. But you didn’t. 

“Okay.” 

The two of you crawled out of your window and walked a few houses down to Toji’s truck, parked in an abandoned parking lot. The two of you hop in at the same time. You had suddenly wished you grabbed your coat. It wasn’t necessarily cold, you just wanted something to comfort you. 

“I fucked up.” There it is. His voice, even if he’s saying something incredibly delusional and ridiculous, that is your comfort. He turns in his seat to face you. You do the same, your foot coming up to rest in the seat. 

“I really, really fucked up.” 

“So what’s your excuse?” You ask. You know it’s a bit hurtful. That was a little intentional.

“I just.. I don’t have one.” 

You think about that for a second. “Sooo…” you begin with a laugh, suddenly ten times more bitter than before. “You had sex with another girl… just because?” You ask.

He has nothing to say to that. 

“What am I to you, Toji?” 

He looks at you for a second like he’s pondering. Trying to put it into words, or maybe trying to come up with something. You didn’t know. 

“Everything.” He says, finally.

You smile. It’s a nasty, bitter smile. “That so?” You ask. “I’d hate to see how you treat someone you hate. Gotta be pretty bad.”

“Baby..”

“I’m sorry if I’m misunderstanding you here.” You say, you put your foot back onto the floor of his truck. “You brought me out here, interrupted me, mind you, to what? Tell me that you cheated on me because you felt like it?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this angry in your life. You get out of the car. Not waiting for a response. You slam the door, briskly walking back home. 

“Y/N! Come the fuck on!” You can hear him slamming the door and following you. “Don’t walk out here by yourself.” He’s being dramatic. Your house is literally within your field of vision. You can hear his feet rushing to catch up to you. You turn around and point your finger at his chest. “Leave me the fuck alone.” You say with as much conviction as you can muster. 

He does. 

When you get back home, you realize you had left your phone on your desk next to your abandoned algebra homework. You have a message from Utahime waiting for you. When you open your flip phone up, you read

hime <3: wanna go 2 hakari’s w me this fri?

Suddenly you have an idea. Make him hurt like you did. Maybe a little worse, if he cared about you at all, that is. Deep down you knew he did. Even if only a little. 

you: ofc :)

longer chapter for tonight! i'm having fun writing this! thank you for the support!

i changed the name to decode because i was listening to it while writing this chapter and it was a little bit too perfect. everybody say thank you hayley williams.

other songs i listened to while writing include

breaking benjamin - diary of jane

foo fighters - everlong

bts (suga) - trivia: seesaw

paramore - all i wanted

i feel like im on drugs rn

tag list, comment to be added

@mechalily @nialiuwanderlust @xo-evangeline @ilovebattinson @cherrypieyourface @amaiyasha @erensslut

[snapscube]

In Dawntrail did you enjoy a different character playing the main role, or do you prefer when the player character is leading the narrative?

this is definitely a major point of contention in the fanbase rn and i can generally see valid feelings/criticism on both ends of the spectrum. i myself do fall somewhere in between the most extreme takes on this. i won't go into too much detail about actual events but ill tag this as spoilers anyway just in case. ok so my thoughts are:

firstly, i like Wuk Lamat a lot. i don't think she deserves even half of the pure unfiltered ire that she is receiving from a large subset of the community rn. the amount of people who have already turned being a wuk lamat hater into an advertised personality trait really frustrates me. i really enjoyed seeing her personal journey through the story and i was overall very satisfied by her inclusion. however, i do not think the story was perfectly paced or balanced, and i definitely do understand where people are coming from when they say that they could have used a little less of her in the forefront. honestly it did kind of ultimately disappoint me that we missed out on a lot of potential interaction/development with someone like Krile, who in spite of being promised a big breakout role in this expansion still somewhat felt like a SLIGHT (i have to stress slight) afterthought. she did get some notable moments of development and emotion, but i feel like there could have been more.

okay but, your question is about our role as a player in the narrative. i hold the opinion that for THIS EXPANSION SPECIFICALLY, the warrior of light taking somewhat of a narrative backseat actually made a ton of sense and fit the themes of the narrative as well as the promise of a somewhat breezy summer vacation for our heroes. now, i will say this: i really do not agree with the idea that the WoL should be in a mentor role indefinitely because our story is done developing and we need to give the spotlight to "the next generation" of heroes in the world. i appreciate the SENTIMENT of this, but like for me personally.... i don't want Pella's story to be done, yknow? i definitely would be disappointed if this was the DE FACTO role she played in every expansion past this. but i don't even think that is factually what's going to happen. we're currently in a setup phase! and, again, bringing it back to this narrative and the themes within, a lot of Dawntrail about the experience of entering unfamiliar places and learning about the customs and the traditions of people already within it to best help them without unwelcomely trampling on their culture in the process. i think a story like that is the PERFECT time for the WoL to take a bit of a backseat. wuk lamat is also somewhat unfamilar like us yes, but Tural is still her home and she is about to be tasked with leading it. i feel like centering our character in that equation would feel.... really disingenuous? it was kinda frustrating sometimes when it felt like hey.... there's a situation happening right now that can be solved by skilled combat and you have a literally god killer standing right here doing a frown emote, but at a certain point i could chalk it up to growing pains or necessary suspension of disbelief in the interest of the overall emotional hook of the narrative. a lot of those moments could be explained away with enough thought about the character motivations and culture at play, though sometimes it does feel like a stretch. again, far from a perfectly written MSQ. it starts slow and it's messy and it throws a LOT of stuff at you that doesn't always pay off like you expect or want. but i dunno! i think we're gonna see some really interesting stuff come to the forefront in the future, and i think especially now knowing that much of the playerbase thought we took TOO much of a backseat here CS3 will probably adjust their focus accordingly next time. so i can't be too upset really about the stuff i wasn't into. the rest of it was great imo!

[cheralith]

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part iii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, unedited/not beta read as of 2/24

word count ; 8.5k

notes ; we're so back. am i severely late to posting this? very. did i at least get it done after too many months? also yes. i also apologize in advance to those i tagged that are no longer interested in the series, as i merely tagged people that had commented regardless of time. lmk if you no longer want to be tagged in the last part, i promise i won't take offense at all!

parts ; one two three four (tba)

THREE YEARS AGO

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Hara. Please let me assist you at any need possible.”

Miguel peered at you through his reading glasses, averting his attention from his laptop to fully examine the stranger that stood in his office. Dark hazelnut eyes scan the appearance of a young woman dressed in black slacks and an ironed white blouse standing stiffly next to his superiors that eyed him with more eagerness than he liked. He could already tell that you were a shy one, a person that wasn’t too accustomed to the outside world and its people; you stood with stiff posture; it was one that exemplified nerve rather than confidence from the way that you almost seem paralyzed in your place. 

Caldworth, one of the superiors that stood by your side, placed a wrinkly and veiny hand on your shoulder and showed you off to him as if you were a painting up for bidding. “We choose a sharp one for you. (Y/N) here is rather attentive, so don’t be shy about letting her get to know you better, Miguel.”

Miguel stayed quiet, still skeptical about this sudden new arrangement for him that was brought up at the last minute. He lacked a certain sort of anticipation that would usually behold anyone else in his position—a new person entering their work life would usually be an exciting, rousing meeting seeing as how it would be a new addition to what the higher-ups would refer to as “family.” A loose term, Miguel often thought… very loose, even. To even have the courage to compare coworkers to something as intimate as family was something that didn’t sit well with Miguel. Blame it on the certain circumstances on his own familial life, but even anyone else that had their brain in the somewhat of the right spot would understand that mere coworkers were nothing compared to family.

At least in his case.

“I’ve greatly admired your work in the past,” you said almost robotically, “so I hope I can be of any help in your future accomplishments—no matter how big or small.”

Miguel cocked his head. He fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at what he began to concur was something scripted via his superiors. Something about your tone of voice seemed… flat; devoid of any actual enthusiasm. 

Caldworth and his partner began to see themselves out, leaving him to babysit you. “Well, you two have at it! Maybe go out for a cup of coffee to familiarize yourselves, get to know each other better since you both are essentially going to be around each other all the time,” Caldworth stated, making Miguel twitch from the last part. 

Just before they left, Caldworth offered the glint of his eye over his shoulder, the peek of a tight-lipped grin ever so slightly visible.

“And don’t forget, we’re all family here!” he cheered before the slam of a door shut you and Miguel in.

Immediately, Miugel noticed that your shoulders caved inward, indicating that you were finally able to breathe properly without the surveillance of people that were essentially in charge of your life. He eyed you again from the top of his glasses before he took them off and rested them in between his fingers, letting them dangle lazily. 

“Did they tell you to say that?”

You jolted in your spot. Nerves seemingly reshocked with the same anxiety from before, you turned yourself to face your new boss again with a much more paled, yet evident expression—wide-eyed, pursed-lipped, gritted jaw—and swallowed thickly. Almost in a shameful manner, you silently nodded your head. 

“W-was…” you started, “was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” Miguel murmured simply and closed his laptop. “Don’t listen to what they say, just make yourself as comfortable as possible. I’m sure neither of us want to be that comfortable with each other.”

Your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, hitching a sharp breath before it’s replaced with another stiff nod. There was no user’s manual of sorts that was given to you by your superiors. They merely told you to do exactly what Miguel needed, so if this is what he wanted—for you two to maintain distance—then so be it. If anything, it’s easier to breathe this way for both parties. 

And it was like that for a rather long time; the both of you never came too close to the other person. It was strictly a professional workplace relationship, one that didn’t issue any room for intimacy because it wasn’t needed. There were no lunch or dinner get-togethers outside work hours, there was barely any small talk between you both, and you and he didn’t even bother getting each others’ personal numbers despite being consistently around the other like air—both parties thought the work phones were more than enough. There was no need for you to learn about his likes, his dislikes, his favorite foods, and Miguel couldn’t certainly be bothered with your own slices of life. To each their own, if you minded your business about him, he’d do the same to you. 

It was a fair trade and a sufficient barter that satisfied you and him; there need not be any excess of the unnecessary.

That was, until a certain day that Miguel was held back during his usual hours to continue working on lab reports—work that didn’t allow him freedom from this hell of a company to see his own salvation.

“If it’s an urgent matter, Mr. O’Hara, I don’t mind taking on some of the workload,” you had said softly as you placed the last stack of packets on his desk that needed proper annotation. “I’m your assistant, after all. It’s my job to help you out.”

Miguel rubbed his forehead out of exhaustion and shook his head, “You’re my assistant from 9 to 5 only. I’m not gonna be like those shocking pricks and work you longer than needed,” he muttered and stretched out his neck, joints crackling. “Go clock out, (Y/N). I’m sure there’s someone waiting for you at home that needs attending to.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere had gone awkwardly quiet. The tension was only broken by the scritching of your shuffling feet before you coughed. 

“Um, there’s no one in particular like that for me, unfortunately,” you whispered through a forced laugh that quickly dissolved. “So again, I don’t mind staying late…”

Miguel stiffened in his seat and mumbled an apology for his blatant inconsideration. Right… you were still rather young and didn’t seem the type to have a family yet. “No boyfriend? Or girlfriend… I’m not one to judge.”

“No, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No parents?”

“I moved out, so no.”

“Not even pets?”

“None.”

“... perhaps friends of sorts?”

“...”

Another sigh heaves itself from his aching lungs. What he’d do for a cigarette right now to kill this awkward tension. You were a rather shy person that isolated herself from most people, but Miguel didn’t think you’d detach yourself this much from the crowd. 

You proposed your assistance once more, as third times always a charm. “Please let me assist you, Mr. O’Hara. I truly do not mind staying overtime if needed.”

Miguel, at first, thought you might be kissing his ass for a possible raise, but the thought quickly disappears when you genuinely appear concerned for his well-being given the fact he looked ultimately much more disgruntled than usual. Despite your timidity, you could be a stubborn one, so Miguel gave in before he tired himself even more with mild arguments that he was sure would drain whatever life he had left in him.

He inhales sharply and fiddles with his bag for a bit before he pulls out an array of keys, gently detaching a pair of them. One of them is his car key. The other—his house key. 

“Take these,” he said and gestured them to you. “I’ve trusted you enough to drive my car on multiple occasions, so now I’m entrusting you to my daughter.”

Your eyes widened briefly, brows raising to new heights. Blinking in the alikeness of an owl, you repeated, “Your… your daughter?”

Miguel supposes this is what succumbs to him after not revealing even the most personal, yet basic parts of himself to a coworker. He hasn’t even revealed his birthday to you, let alone his family, so he can’t say he’s too surprised at your reaction. 

“Yes, my daughter,” he repeats and starts scribbling on a post-it. “Her name is Gabriella, she just turned five and is in kindergarten. I’m gonna call up the daycare and tell them that you’ll be picking her up from school. After that, drop her off at the house and just… just kind of stay there until I come home. There should be leftovers in the fridge if she gets hungry. I’ll take a cab home… I dunno.”

Miguel sticks out the post-it note containing both the address of the daycare and his apartment number. With caution, you take and examine them closely with a mild surprise still on your face of the new information about your boss that you thought you should’ve learned a while ago. You begin to see yourself out of his office with an evident nervousness in your being before Miguel spontaneously gets up and grabs your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

A chill goes down your spine when you see a menacing and unusual red glint in those pools of mahogany. His once-drained face is suddenly stony and rugged with his teeth bitten back to avoid any unnecessary threats. The physical contact makes your nerves go cold and paralyzes you into place to force you to stare into those eyes that you’re not sure aren’t even human, a sort of malicious crimson tint gleaming over brown hues.

“Do not… let anything happen to her,” he hisses under his breath, his tone jaggedly sharp, “Not a single scratch, yes?”

It takes a while for air to breathe itself back into your lungs, yet only a partial amount of it revives your body because all you can reply is a choked out, 

“Yes.”

Miguel lets go of your wrist like it’s a heated iron rod, the burn of it stinging his hand with the aftertaste of your skin still damped on his palm. You quickly leave after that, leaving him to sigh and stare into nothing before clutching the picture frame of his daughter that sits on his desk—praying that you’ll live up to his expectations and arrive home to an unscathed Gabriella.

And throughout the duration of the three years you and Miguel have spent side by side, with each repeated question he’d contritely ask again and again, he did each and every single time you had to take care of her. The hours became longer, more strenuous, and created a blockage between Miguel and Gabriella that only you were able to bridge between. Gabriella—whose particular shyness reminded Miguel of a certain someone—eventually warmed up to you and began to treat you much more familiarly as time passed, growing accustomed to wrapping her body around your legs when she saw you during pick up and always asking what was for dinner that evening as if you’ve been there since her birth.

Gabriella grew very fond of you, Miguel noticed. There was some sort of mimicry in her actions at times that mirrored your own habits like how she’d tilt her head and purse her lips to the left when she was confused like you did or she’d randomly walk briskly in the same fashion you marched. She’d slip in a mention of your name during small discussions here and there, a praise never failing to tail her words. 

“Miss. (Y/N) bought this headband for me! Isn’t it pretty?” 

“Oh, Miss. (Y/N) taught me how to solve that problem yesterday.”

“Can you make cookies like how Miss. (Y/N) does? Yours taste weird.”

While you weren’t always present around the O’Haras, Gabriella made sure it seemed like you were. 

There was a particular time that Miguel was helping her on some homework assigned over the weekend. The assignment had discussed different careers that children might be interested in the future and when Miguel had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, Gabriella, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven around the time, replied all too simply, 

“I want to be like Miss. (Y/N).”

Miguel was astonished. He had expected an answer like a professional soccer player due to her love of the sport or a scientist like her father, but to aspire to be someone that seemingly was just an occasional companion? To him, it didn’t make sense.

“Like, do you wanna work for Daddy when you’re older?” Miguel asked, attempting to clarify what she meant since she knew enough to understand you were associated with her father. 

Gabriella shook her head and mindlessly continued to draw what seemed to be a portrait of you in… a pink dress? “Nuh uh. I wanna be a princess like her.”

Through furrowed brows, Miguel chuckled a little aimlessly. Of course she’d still believe fantasy and magical things—she was just seven after all. Initially, he wanted to merely correct his daughter, but was a little curious as to what sort of silly information you had been feeding her. “Miss. (Y/N) is a princess?” 

“Yep, she told me herself!” Gabriella exclaimed, her hand fisting a yellow marker that scribbled on a crown on the drawing. “She said she used to be a princess, but she ran away ‘cause a giant, fire-breathing lizard tried to kidnap her!” 

“I think it might’ve been a dragon, mijita,” Miguel corrected gently, trying to go along with the usual trope fairy tales portrayed.

“Nuh uh, it was a big and creepy lizard, she said!” she retaliated stubbornly.

“Well,” he started again, attempting to choose his words a little more carefully this time around. “How come you don’t wanna be like Ariel? Or Tiana? They’re princesses, too, right?” 

She shrugged. “I like them. But they’re not Miss. (Y/N).”

Something unnatural began to seep into Miguel’s chest. He knew that Gabriella liked you quite so, but he didn’t expect for her to almost admire you in such a fashion that inspired her to be like you. In his eyes, you were nothing but the assistant that loyally stood by his side and abided by his every word—to him, it seemed like you were more of a butler or servant than a princess. 

But in his daughter’s eyes… 

“Why? What’s so special about (Y/N)?” Miguel inquired with a growing curiosity to try and see you in the same light as Gabriella. 

She shook her head, displeased with the informality given to you by her father. “You gotta say Princess (Y/N). I don’t have to ‘cause she said it’s okay.”

He sighed, “Okay, fine. What’s so special about Princess (Y/N)?”

Gabriella set her marker down carefully and thought for a little while. Her eyes suddenly lit up with delight, an affirmative grin set on her lips. 

“Well, she’s really pretty… like reallyyy pretty. I wanna be just as beautiful as her one day,” she praised, making Miguel’s brows rise at the sudden compliment. “She’s really nice, too. She never shouts at me like the teachers or coaches do… and she always lets me have extra dessert when I do a good job on my homework.”

Miguel fell silent. Perhaps it was more than mere admiration, but idolization for Gabriella. She viewed you in a way that Miguel hadn’t even thought of because he only viewed you as his coworker. But in Gabriella’s eyes, you were more than just her babysitter—you were literal royalty to her. He shouldn’t be one to complain though—he’d take his daughter following in your footsteps over some others that might lead her astray. You were… sufficient enough, he supposes, even if Gabriella didn’t think so.

“She’s super smart too—like you, Papá! Maybe even smarter,” she retorts, making Miguel twitch. “And I like her voice a lot. I really like it when she reads me a story because her voice is pretty. Sometimes she sings this song to me to help me sleep.”

“Oh?” Miguel questioned, “¿Y, qué canción es esa?”

“I keep forgetting the name and words of it…” Gabriella pouted after a moment of attempted concentration. “But it went somethin’ like…”

She began humming an off-tune melody that struck a dissonant, yet familiar chord within Miguel, but it was impossible for him to find why it was so eerily familiar to him. Was it perhaps from an old song? Or a film he’d seen before? It was a calming song, one that was perfectly suited for a child’s lullaby, but something about it seemed almost so customary to him. 

“Ya gotta marry her,” his daughter said plainly and began to resume her artistry, ignoring the sudden startle she gave her father. “So that way, I can become a princess, too.”

Miguel helped himself to the nearby cup of water to soothe his choked throat after the scare she gave him. “Sweetheart, I’m not a prince, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” his daughter replied without missing a beat. “But you know what you are, though?” 

Dare he say that Gabriella had grown akin to you the same way she had with her father. Something about her praise and regard for you seemed to mirror the way that reflected alike to her father, yet Miguel couldn’t tell if she had managed to draw a line between the images of you and him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Gabriella could even define a difference in her adulation between you and him besides the fact one was her parent. 

But when the thought of Gabriella potentially viewing you as sharing the same title as him—a parent—something seeds inside Miguel. He doesn’t know what it is or what it will grow into, but there’s one thing he knows for sure. 

The seed of you in his life and hers is here to stay, whether he likes it or not. 

Gabriella’s smile grew wide before she happily announced,

“You’re her knight in shining armor!"

PRESENT

If he squinted properly and took a closer look, perhaps Miguel could make himself hallucinate enough to try and visualize the golden chandelier above your head as your haloing tiara. It was the main light source nearly the entirety of the venue, but something about the way the light glistened around you made you seem almost holy, like you were a divinity gracing your presence on the wretchedness they called Earth.

Blame it on the wine, but Miguel couldn’t help but notice that you looked more celestial tonight; a unique sort of ethereal that he’s only seen in the finest of paintings. The banquet hall is covered in layers of silkened gold, only emphasizing your best features in the spotlights of reflecting amber. 

You’re talking idly (per usual, unfortunately) with a coworker from Human Resources that he’s seen you often have mild conversations with on the weekly, a rare familiarity that he only knows he’s been graced with in full; so it’s truly no surprise that there’s a placid stir of envy growing within Miguel as you’ve decided to not give your semi-cold shoulder a break even tonight, even with the rarity of a compliment given by him. At least there’s been somewhat of an improvement—you’re actually holding miniscule conversations with him every now and then as you both chatter with the crowd as long as there’s a third party.

Yet he still hasn’t been granted mercy of having a proper one-on-one with you, yet.

But beggars can’t be choosers, so Miguel must make do with what he’s offered.

The coworker, finally, is called by one of his project managers and politely excuses himself, leaving you to Miguel’s devices at long last. Like a flower’s petals given little to no care, your smiling face wilts into the solemn countenance that Miguel has grown accustomed to seeing for the past week when you turn your gaze back towards the table, a sliver of Miguel caught in the corner of your eye. In time, he just barely catches a glimpse of your eyes flickering toward his figure before they return to stare at the nearly empty plate of food with a slight dismal.

A choice of what words to say jumble in his mouth. They toss and jump about while not giving him full comprehension of what they mean and Miguel grows frustrated at his lack of intelligibleness because it wasn’t every day that his resolve could be so cowardly in front of someone. Usually he was the one that made egos shrink, but upon your grace, his own could only grow so small. 

You can tell there’s an awkward silence amongst you both despite the audible chatter throughout the banquet hall and the idle conversations among your tablemates, so you break it first but stiffly shuffling out your phone and dialing Gabriella’s babysitter for tonight—a blue moon occasion since neither you nor Miguel could be present. Gabriel is out of town and because there were only so many people in the world that Miguel could trust with his beloved, the elderly next-door-neighbor was the last resort. 

“I should probably check up on how Mrs. Darcie is doing,” you splutter with a dry mouth. “I forgot to teach her how the TV remote works and I’m sure she must be bored out of her—”

Unconsciously, Miguel gently pries the phone out of your shaking hands, the connection between skin and skin electrifying his nerves more than he liked. He takes notice of the size difference between your hand and his own and eyes carefully at how easily your fingers would be able to slip into the gaps of his all too easily; like two connecting puzzle pieces. 

He places it face down on the table to avoid further distractions. “I’m sure Mrs. Darcie is alright,” he attempts to soothe as he places his hand over your own, nearly caging it between his fingers. Miguel struggles with fighting the urge to squeeze it delicately—he doesn’t know if he’s earned that privilege, or if he ever did. “Gabi is most likely preparing for bed, we shouldn’t distract her.”

Eyes flickering toward your covered hand, the warmth that envelopes it from Miguel’s makes you swallow thickly. 

“Ah,” you murmur and timidly pull back your hand to place back on your lap to Miguel’s disappointment. “Right… Never mind then.”

And suddenly, he’s back to square one. Silence plagues the air again between you and him, only this time, it’s thicker and grimier almost. Perhaps it was the oddity that was the physical contact that added to the musk of it; Miguel prays that you didn’t find it uncomfortable. 

A fork is plucked between your fingers and you go to idly poke at your food to fidget with something other than your hands. “I hope she’s okay. Gabi, I mean. I-It feels a little odd leaving her with someone other than you. 

Rays of hope and enthrallment embellish Miguel’s being from the fact that finally… finally you’re the one attempting a conversation with him after much too long. And not only that, you’re beginning with something bold, even if you don’t realize it. Despite the fact you’re rather unconscious of what you’re saying, something within Miguel perks up at the fact that you’re worried about Gabriella in the same sense… that he is.  

That a parent is.

He fights the urge to physically shake his head to brush the thought off. Miguel hums, a semi-sorry attempt at being suede and casual. “Mrs. Darcie has had eight children in her lifetime, I’m sure that she’s definitely had her experience of taking care of kids,” he says seemingly nonchalantly. “Gabi, if anything, is lightwork to her.”

A soft delight pings in his chest again when you reply almost instantaneously, “She is indeed a good girl, very well-behaved.”

“She has her moments,” Miguel snorts, fondly remembering a few of younger Gabriella’s temper tantrums and outbursts of tears.

Something golden, something bright blossoms within him when he hears you let out a soft chuckle at his reply. It’s abrupt, but it’s short and sweet enough that he feels accomplished, enough for him to savor the taste of it. “All children do from time to time. But she’s definitely one of the better apples of the bunch.”

Miguel thinks you’re right; it wasn’t often that parents, new ones especially, were granted with the privilege of having obedient children, so he’s one of the lucky ones. Perhaps Gabriella being a good kid was the universe giving him mercy as a single parent, as society often thinks it takes two to tango when it comes to childcare most of the time. 

But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Even if Miguel wasn’t aware of it, some of the responsibility was lifted off his shoulders when you entered the picture, as the duties of nurturing a young child were now in your favor the moment you had signed your work contract. For that, he harbors guilt from time to time when he thinks that you never exactly signed up to be a babysitter, let alone a parent figure to his kin that you were still unaware of. 

And then it hits him.

It comes all of a sudden—his senses downpouring from the cloud of his daydreams and thoughts.

It’s not a good realization by far. If anything, it’s the very opposite, one that’s one the other end of the spectrum. It’s a deathly epiphany and one that he doesn’t like to acknowledge but is forced to.

Miguel stares blankly at the tablecloth, eyes droning into the satin folds of it as they mimicked the waves of a crashing ocean. A sort of paleness infects his face, the color of it draining slowly and he goes still when he feels his heartbeat thundering in his ears. 

You’re quick to take notice of your boss’s current disposition, growing wary of his wide, blank eyes and gritted jaw, along with his knuckles growing white as they fist his slacks. A shallow breath is echoed from him; you furrow your brows.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you murmur, leaning toward his figure. 

Miguel’s mind stirs. If Gabriella views you as a parent-figure, what exactly would you think of it? You’re not much younger than Miguel is, only falling behind a mere four or five years, but you’re still significantly young that you’ve got your whole life ahead of you that you’d need to experience by yourself. The remnants of youth are still planted onto you despite being well-adjusted to the adult world, so to put the responsibility of a child on your shoulders? Miguel feels contrition flood into him.

What if you didn’t even want children? 

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

Your boss seems to be frozen in time, seeing as how not a muscle in his limbs nor his face were moving, but his eyes were wide open, almost glazed with fear. A feathery hand goes to place itself over his tightened fist before you ask again, “Mr. O’Hara, are you okay?”

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

The worst case scenario infects Miguel’s thoughts—you standing in the same shadow of his ex, exiting through the same door she had walked through just a few days after his daughter’s birth and breaking his entire being into little pathetic pieces.

This time, however? He wouldn’t be the only one with a shattered heart.

A thick swallow goes down your throat. You gently shake his hand with your own to attempt to break him out of his frigid state, a worry beginning to settle itself in your stomach. “Mr. O’Hara? Can you hear me?” you declare a little louder than the first two times.

Your voice makes him blink and he clears his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at the sudden loss of composure. “Yes, I-I’m fine…” he mutters as he tugs at the tight collar of his dress shirt.

You nod with visible skepticism. Miguel turns away from your gaze to avoid further questioning, since he knows you’ve been at his side long enough to know his behaviors. “Are you sure?”

He nods and stifles a sigh, nodding. The flurry of what had just occurred in his mind lingers almost painfully and it takes him a while to remember where he is and why. Right… the annual celebration gala… with you… to make up for the date that never happened.

His mind is a mess. It’s an incoherent tornado of everything and anything, with images of all kinds flashing throughout his mind—young Gabriella’s drawing of you and her as princesses that she insisted on framing, your face of disappointment that you gave him when he ditched out on the date, a flashback of his ex slamming his old apartment door on him as an infant Gabriella screamed and wailed in her crib, you hugging his daughter after her winning goal, Miguel’s frazzled self as he showed up too late to his daughter’s first Parents Day with a teary-eyed Gabriella, him finding you quietly reading a sleepy Gabi a bedtime story after a long shift at work, you making baked goods in the kitchen with her.. you tucking in her into bed… you suddenly with a suitcase in hand, a sobbing Gabriella in the back as Miguel begged you to stay before you slammed the door behind you and leaving them—

Miguel stands up abruptly, making you jump. The collar and tie around his neck suddenly seem too tight and his throat runs dry. The air grows hotter and his vision starts to blur. 

“Mr. O’Hara,” you start as you also stand up, “Is everything alr—”

“I need some air,” Miguel barely chokes out before he leaves the banquet hall without another word. He can just barely hear you ask if there’s anything you could do before he turns a sharp right and leaves the entirety of the building altogether, choosing to remain in the back garden to breathe in fresh oxygen, a relieving chill to the air.

A hand goes to loosen his collar and tie and he can feel himself gain consciousness again. The sky is draped with an ink blue all over, speckles of the night stars scattering all around. The floral smell of many garden flowers fills his senses and Miguel grounds himself properly before he settles himself on a stone bench to balance in his mind.

He attempts to reason with himself. 

Clearly, you don’t mind being with children, and obviously you don’t mind being with and taking care of Gabriella. She’s not simply a job to you that you’re forced to work with—you’ve said it yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t go to her games nor would you remember to bring her small gifts of her liking. You’ve done things for her out of your own initiative many times. Gabriella is your world, Miguel thinks, as much as your hers.

Now there’s the problem of you being with Miguel, if your feelings haven’t changed all too much. In all honesty, Miguel thinks if he’s with the right person, he’s sure to put in effort into stabilizing and nurturing a proper relationship. He hadn’t had the time to go around and look for love because of work and Gabriella, so serving as this sanctuary that came to him was basically a perfect fit into his life—don’t mind it took him three years to notice it. You’re worth putting that effort in.

Finally… there’s the possible chance that you reject Miguel’s proposal of being Gabriella’s secondary caretaker.

…

Miguel attempts to process it in a more… positive light. One that won’t send him spiraling. 

But it’s nearly impossible.

How is it possible to settle a middle ground of happiness, or at the very least… satisfaction, between you and him and Gabriella? How do you imagine a happy ending to a dawning of Gabriella’s happiness? How can Miguel ever face you after asking such a thing?

His vision shakes again, another hurricane of impossible questions begins whirling in mind. The bile in his stomach churns uncomfortably and his hands grow clammy again. His feet feel like they’re sinking in the dirt. Somehow, even at a staggering height compared to most of his colleagues, Miguel feels small once more. 

Would he be able to cope with such a—

A loud crash and multiple screams suddenly break Miguel out of his state and he whirls his head to see what was happening inside. The peek of something green slithers inside the massive hole in the glass ceiling indented in the building, and it doesn’t take Miguel long to know what’s happening.

He sprints back inside the building and into the banquet hall, the opposite way where everyone is headed and takes a swift peek inside to what was happening. 

A horrifically large green lizard crawls on the floor, letting out an agonizing roar of sorts with its tail swishing about and knocking everything and everyone in its path over. Dr. Curtis Connors, the one foe Miguel had fought a few months ago and had just managed to escape his grasp, had come back for revenge in a newer, more improved, more terrifying form of his initial self-experiment. News of his identity had leaked out immediately the moment that he had defeated the mad doctor, and every work that was researched by him that was deemed irrelevant by Alchemax was unpublished and/or destroyed—that included raiding everything in his personal lab—an urgent executive order made by Tyler Stone himself. 

Hungry for revenge for the destruction of his work, Miguel was certain he was back for revenge as back when he was still sane, the amount of research that Dr. Connors had put in was extensive and yielded long years in the making, spanning over nearly three decades of research that was wiped away in the matter of a single day thanks to Alchemax. 

Miguel quickly turns a corner, hidden from the public eye, and commands his suit on before quickly re-entering the banquet hall. He swings up towards the domed ceiling and carefully analyzes the area.

There’s still a few people scattering from the room, shrieks echoing from the walls. His eyes go to search for where you are in desperation, praying you’re safe somewhere outside, but a flash of light pink catches the corner of his eye. He nearly snaps his neck when he finds you running in the opposite direction of where most people are headed—towards the garden.

“(Y/N)!” Miguel yells out without thinking and slaps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, you don’t hear him due to the commotion inside the area as you swim against the current of people. You fight the urge to fall down with every person that bumps into you amidst the chaos before you thankfully make it near the exit.

He lunges down from his spot on the ceiling, lassoing a few people that nearly get crushed under Lizard’s humongous tail and bringing them to safety properly on the way, making his way towards your figure. Rubble from the many columns begin to collapse on themselves; clouds of dust and debris fog the first floor of the hall with the wreckage already trapping some people inside. 

A large chunk from the wall creaks and begins to teeter over the south exit, where you’re headed. A certain distraction diverts you from noticing the large cement framework around the exit that’s about to topple on you to Miguel’s horror. In the nick of time, he just barely manages to snatch you by the waist from a thrusted sprint just before the framework collapses with a thunderous boom. 

You and Miguel cough from the dust it created. It takes a good second for you to process what your fate might’ve become, and it takes just another second for you to regain your consciousness. A good part of the exit is now blocked, but that doesn’t stop you from taking off your heels and attempting to climb over it. 

Miguel barks out and grabs your arm that’s now scathed with slight scratches. “The hell are you doing?!” he exclaims worriedly. 

You turn back with a teary and troubled look on your face, much to his shock. Abruptly, you turn back towards the exit and attempt to tug back your arm from his firm grasp. “M-my boss… he’s inside the garden,” you croak miserably out as you try to pull yourself over the fallen column. “I need t-to know if he’s safe…”

Lizard lets out another mighty howl and patters toward the stage, his tail once again swinging haughtily and ignoring anything in its path. Miguel shouts at you to duck and pulls you down along with him. You prop back up and without his arm on yours, you use it to your advantage and grunt yourself forward onto the column. 

Miguel wraps a large hand over your ankle and weighs you down from moving any further. “Hey, you need to get out, now. You can’t be here, no one should be,” he urges.

The shake of your head concerns him—right, you’re too stubborn for your own good. “I’ll be fine. P-please, just leave me be.”

“Not when you’re about to get killed,” he declares and juts your ankle more towards him. The motion makes you fall into his chest and Miguel uses one hand to properly secure you to himself, the other launching and swinging a web to the north entrance. 

You squirm and fight against him, pleading desperately for him to drop you and leave you alone. A frame of tears threatens to fall from your eyes from frustration and despair when you get put down. Miguel has to physically stop you from running back into the banquet hall once again—you put up a fight though. You thrash against him, clawing and weakly punching at his stronger arms, imploring for him to let you back inside. 

“You don’t understand—” you gasp as the remnants of the people inside flood out. Looking over his shoulder, you gaze at the exit solemnly. “Please… I need to know if he’s alright—he h-has a young daughter back at home and if anything happens t-to him—just please let me go!” you wail.

He grabs you by the shoulders forcefully and settles you down, the stream of tears falling from your eyes running his throat dry once again. Miguel has never seen you cry, or even come close to crying. Not when Gabriella forced you to watch what she considered “one of the saddest movies in existence”, not when an entire glass beaker had toppled and its shards pierced your skin, not even when Miguel had first scolded you about your many mistakes on the very first document you turned into him. 

Glassy eyes meet concerned, masked ones. Your lip trembled violently, the words all jumbled in your mouth about to spill. “Just let me check if he’s alright,” you just barely whisper.

He bores his gaze into yours as his composure does its best to upkeep him as best as possible. Miguel, from the inside of his mask, bites his lip and sighs. “I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

“What if you don’t?” you accuse with furrowed brows.

“I’ll bring him home safe and sound,” he says firmly. “You said he has a daughter, right? I won’t let her become an orphan. I swear on my life I won’t.”

Your gaze doesn’t falter, even when Miguel attempts to soothe you by chafing the chilled skin of your arms up and down in a calming manner. Unbeknownst to you, you and him share an image of Gabriella in your minds; it brings a sting of ache to your chests.

“How can I trust you?” you ask dryly. 

“Because,” he goes to weave a string of webbing through the north entrance and takes you out into the safety of the outside. He settles you on the corner of two intersecting streets that sit nearby the building, with your tears still falling and hands trembling. A hand carefully holds your cheek and wipes away descending tears on your chalky face, Miguel ignoring the squeeze of his heart with each one that puddles on the sidewalk. 

“... I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man leaves you on the sidewalk idly with the blurry figures of your co-workers and other people in the company whizzing by you with no concern for anyone else other than themselves. It takes a moment for you to understand what just happened and with whom, suddenly hit with the pang of realization that you had just met the Spider-Man: the well-known vigilante protecting Nueva York from all corners, beloved by the public. Excitement can’t seem to conjure itself within you, however, your gaze still lingering on the building that Miguel was possibly in. 

A hesitant step takes you forward back to the building, but your phone vibrates abruptly from a notification from Mrs. Darcie. Word must’ve gotten out so quickly that it reached the O'Hara's neighborhood, as her text was asking if you and Miguel were alright. Your thumbs shake as you try and type up a response to let her know that you were at least alive, but you know that Gabriella wanted you both home. 

The least you could do is make sure half of that concern was eased. You were counting on Spider-Man to do the rest.

With an arm reaching out for a taxi, you rush into one and tell the driver to step on the gas, promising to tip extra. You’d be willing to give all the money you had with you if it meant that you could be with Gabriella for tonight.

You’ve underestimated the nightly rush hour this Friday night had brought upon, because there’s a sea of cars that are equally as stuck as you are amidst the road. Tangible fingers go to grip your hair frustratingly, and asking the driver to go any further was basically useless. Each minute you wasted on the same road you had been on for what was nearing twenty minutes made you more anxious by the minute. 

“I-isn’t there some sort of shortcut?” you ask the driver hoarsely. “I don’t care what roads you have to take, just please get off this one. I’m begging you. I have a child that’s waiting for me.”

His eyes give you a quick glance in the mirror, and empathy embeds itself in his equally tired eyes. He must be a father himself, you think, as he gives you an affirmative nod and swings off the road onto a much more bumpy and gravelly, but visibly less dense one.

It’s nearly an agonizing hour later off the road—it would’ve most likely reached around two or even three if you stayed on the main road—but you thankfully make it to the O’Hara’s residence. Your body moves on its own, flying out the elevator and speeding down the floor of the apartment. You burst open the door, visible sweat misted on your forehead and an ache to your limbs but all that is ignored when Mrs. Darcie greets you with relief, with a sleeping Gabriella settled soundly on the couch as her favorite TV show buzzes in the background.

She grasps you tightly by the arms. “My goodness, thank heavens you’re alright,” she murmurs quietly. “That must’ve been quite a scare… are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” you gasp out tiredly. “But how is she? Gabi, I mean… d-does she—”

Mrs. Darcie shakes her head. “She fell asleep a while ago, she doesn’t know. I just managed to get informed thanks to my son who works near the building. But where is Miguel?”

Dread floods your face once more, remembering why you left the banquet in the first place. Somehow, however, your phone vibrates and receives a text from the one and only. A loud sigh escapes your lips and you crumple to the floor as the feeling returns to your numb legs as Miguel’s texts ease your worries. 

Hey I’m alive and alright. I saw you leave earlier, hope you’re safe. I’m omw home. 

You fight the urge to burst into tears from the relief as Mrs. Darcie helps you back up. “I’m assuming that’s him,” she says gently as she encourages you to take off your heels. “What a waste of night and beautiful dress. Shame that blasted giant iguana or something had to ruin it.”

A broken laugh leaves you from her gentle humor. You glance down at the dress that the mysterious Lyla had given you tonight and sigh sadly at the many tears of the tulle and fabric. The dress looked expensive and you planned on wearing it again for formal events, but alas, fate has decided to toy with you.

“That’s alright,” you mutter as you help Mrs. Darcie gather her stuff back up so she can finally leave. “I have plenty of others to use in the meantime.”

The elderly woman leaves you inside their apartment after bidding you a goodnight to tend to Gabriella, who’s still sound asleep and oblivious to what was happening to the world and people around her. That’s a good thing, at least, you think to yourself as you tidy up the living room around her quietly. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes.

She’s still small enough that you’re able to carry her to her room even at her age and it reminds you a lot of when she was younger, when she’d pretend to be asleep so you could carry her yourself to go back to her room. Nowadays, she knows her bedtime and does it by herself, but assuming she had been waiting for you or Miguel to come home, sleep had snuck onto her as she waited and waited.

You put her down gently, hoping not to get any of the leftover debris on your soiled clothes onto her freshly-washed body. The action just barely stirs her awake, her eyes slitting open at the slightest bit. Your blurry figure just barely makes it to her senses and she grins sleepily.

A titter escapes her lips. “You look like a…” Gabriella starts, her words faltering due to a fading consciousness. 

“Like a…?” you whisper softly, a hand stroking her hair gently.

“Like a…” you can tell she’s trying to find the words in her very limited vocabulary currently, her brain threatening to shut off at any second now. “Like a princess, I think?”

You raise your brows at her description as Gabriella immediately falls back asleep. You suppose you do look much more dressed up from usual, but your cheeks tingle a hint of warmth at the comparison of literal royalty. You blame it on the drowsiness.

Your own tiredness begins to crawl up your spine as you stay by Gabriella’s side in her darkened bedroom, her quiet breaths soothing you like a lullaby. With heavy eyelids threatening to shut close at any minute, you fight the urge to give into the Sandman, insistent on Miguel’s return.

Miguel…

His name rings aloud in your mind for a moment.

Miguel…

Miguel…

“I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.” 

Spider-Man’s familiar voice suddenly jolts you awake. Your brows crunch together. How on earth did Spider-Man know Miguel’s name when you merely referred to him as your boss? Perhaps he saw Miguel in the garden beforehand? Maybe Miguel had an earlier oncoming with him from before and Spider-Man just knew him from that one incident? Or… he just happens to know the names of all the citizens of Nueva York because… that’s just how Spider-Man is? 

Or, was Miguel actually Spid—you shake your head in the same second you think of such a stupid reasoning. That’s impossible…

… you know in your heart that it just is.

Any reason that you attempt to give, you think of it as either obnoxious or just simply impossible. Maybe you did let it slip that your boss’s name was Miguel… that just seems like the most plausible reason. After all, your adrenaline was at an all-time high and you could barely remember what had happened before the takeover, let alone the conversations you had. 

Whatever it was, it was going to bring Miguel back home, and that’s what ultimately had mattered in the end. It probably wasn’t even your business to prod around.

At Gabriella’s visible sleeping state, you stand up and start to head towards the bathroom to fix yourself up, but the sound of the master bedroom’s window suddenly shuffling open makes your nerves electrify. Miguel’s bedroom sat just right next to Gabriella’s, and it was also the bedroom that was nearest to the complex’s fire escape, so a break-in at this time of night was highly plausible. 

Grabbing one of the displayed metal baseball bats on the wall, you turn off Gabriella’s lights and lock the door behind, ensuring her safety first before yours. You’re careful to tiptoe around the more creaky parts of the floorboards, desperate to make yourself not seen by the intruder as you step closer and closer to Miguel’s bedroom. The door is just barely ajar, and the lights are on. A distinct shuffling, bed springs, and a masculine groan echo from the crack of the doorway and when all is silent from the other side of the door, you make your move and burst in, ready to swing at whoever threatens the O’Hara residence.

The bat is suddenly grabbed from your hands from a familiar neon orange webbing and thrusted to the side of the room, where it thunks against the wall and falls limply. You gasp aloud and with nothing to defend yourself with, you look up with fear in your eyes that suddenly turn to shock from the sight in front of you.

There, standing in the same blue and red vinyl suit you had crossed paths with earlier, without its mask completing the look… and thus, exposing the face of the man you had been waiting for to come back home to you. 

a/n ; second to last part to this mini-series and once again, i apologize for this nearly six-month delay, last semester was rough for uni. almost made this into two parts, but i felt like they just belonged together and i quite like the blend of them together.

thanks for the patience for those who stuck around and have waited far too long for this, you deserve this! i'm glad to see you all again <3 thank you endlessly for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and appreciated (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @raeisthebae @mvchmp @um-well @nintendh-e @eddieslooneymoonie @deputy-videogamer @xochyw @honeybeeznuts @aspens-cove @btszn @scaleniusrm @goldenpoison @the-pan-liquid (if you'd like to be either added or removed from the taglist, please lmk! i know it's been awhile, so hi again haha)

[gallavichthings]

A.U.gust 2024

It's almost August again, so time for us to explore alternative universes and see all the other ways in which our boys could fall in love. 😊

For this year, each week will have a general theme, and anything that falls under that theme is allowed, as long as it's original. WIPs, updates or re-imaginings of your own previous works are also allowed (to use someone else's work as inspiration, please ask for their consent before starting).

As always, no sign-ups are needed for this event. Just make sure to mention me using @gallavichthings on the body of your post (you can hide it under a read-more or by using a reblog if you wish to). Posting here on Tumblr is mandatory, but you can host your work somewhere else and post only a link if you want to. There will, of course, be a collection on AO3 (to be announced later).

Some posting suggestions (nothing is mandatory, but it would be courteous):

Tags are to your own discretion, but I suggest tagging NSFW works or hiding them under read-mores (in case of visual posts - fics are normally not an issue).

If you post a long fic on Tumblr in its entirety, it's best to use a read-more in order not to make your post too long and take up a lot of space on people's dashboards and on the tags.

For posting multiple unrelated works on AO3, posting separate works and making them part of one series is better than making each work a chapter of one single fic. That way, you can tag it appropriately and people can more easily find the fic they actually want to read. (That doesn't apply, of course, if your fics are actually connected.)

And without further ado, the themes for each week (please note that a few examples were provided for each week, but they're just a small fraction of what can be done):

Week 1 (01/08-07/08): Seasons/ Holidays (Christmas AUs, summer vacations AUs, New Year's AUs, Halloweeen AUs...)

Week 2 (08/08-14/08): Past/Future (Pirate AUs, Cyberpunk AUs, 1950s AUs, Star Trek AUs...)

Week 3 (15/08-21/08): School/Work (High School AUs, College AUs, Office AUs, Coffee Shop AUs, Tattoo Shop AUs...)

Week 4 (22/08-28/08): Supernatural (Vampire AUs, A/B/O, Soulmate AUs, Superhero AUs...)

Week 5 (29/08-31/08): Free - since this is only half a week, these last three days will be for anything that does not fit any of the other weeks.

If you aren't able to finish your work in time to post it in the designated week, please wait to post it in the last three days. If your AU falls under more than one category, you may post in any week you prefer, according to what you judge to be the most relevant to your work.

I hope that is clear enough, but if not, send me a message and I'll be happy to explain anything further.

And if anyone is in search of some AU ideas, this post contains several AU prompts.

See you in a few weeks!

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

(DATV thoughts with spoilers ahead; i think my tags will keep it filtered but just in case it doesn't since i dont want this in the actual game tags)

i just... man. i don't have a well formulated thought for this yet (and its my PERSONAL OPINION and other people can feel as different as they want, this is not an attack) but it keeps bouncing around my head, so. i know the popular thing right now is coming up with in-universe justifications for The Pantry Almost-Kiss Scene in ways that imply Lucanis didn't mean it/it doesn't represent him as a person/he was Faking It.

and i just don't like any of them. they make me sad!!!!!! i don't like the idea that one of the like 4 romance scenes we get in this game is him Pretending in some way, even if he does at that point like Rook back at least somewhat. None of the justifications i've seen make me feel Better about that being the point where we declare him as a romantic interest, which is what it is in the game, functionally. It doesn't lock you in yet but that point IS where the game says "they will take your flirting more seriously now". I did those same scenes for Davrin, Emmrich, and Taash and this is the formula the game uses (the "interrupted almost-kiss/confession" happens for almost all of the companions).

so if the answer for Lucanis' is "actually he stopped because he Didn't like what he was doing/feel that way yet" or that he felt he had to pretend for Rook's sake... it's kind of a letdown you know? esspecially when it comes right after what seems like an actually authentic moment (dispelling his "perfectly gathered clouds of doom"). Because, at that point in the game from my/Rook's perspective, it was like he finally was reciprocating. It made me hope that he'd acknowledge whatever was between him & Rook more in future scenes, especially because you get so little else from him at any other point, in terms of flirting back/showing you he IS interested. like up to that point I felt kind of bad for continuing to flirt at him, when he'd just change the subject right after! if someone did that in real life i would take it as a hint to stop. This is pixels and not real people so I didn't but they have done "reluctant/fearful interest" better in other characters if that's truly what they were going for in this one.

so after finishing the romance and getting the rest of content... idk. I don't like saying "one of the major chunks of characterization we get needs to be Thrown Out Actually because he was Pretending". because it's not like he or Rook ever actually address it in game--you just don't get to talk about feelings until some dialogue choices only in the act 3 romance scene, and then his speech at endgame (not even a full conversation, so much as his personal declaration). like it takes until the VERY end of the game for him to say the thing about "he was afraid to want you", but that comes after you've already hooked up, even.

I think truly what annoys me is that it's a story choice that can only make sense in HINDSIGHT not AS PLAYING. Only once you have all the scenes can you say "this one is out of character" and then you either have to accept it as bad writing, or come up with some in-universe justification to explain it... and so far none of the in universe ones feel good to me. i wish they did because maybe then I'd be less annoyed, rip. but at the end of the day i think even if there was some intent there, it was a poor choice for his story arc, because it doesn't effectively convey anything... and the reason why we can project a lot of different explanations onto it is simply because it is never addressed again (and again, Lucanis Dellamorte is NOT A PERSON he is a CHARACTER used to further a story for you the player, and so the reasons I don't like this choice are story-level and not a dig at how real life people feel or act).

So yeah at the end of the day. that is simply not a narrative device I would ever personally use in this way on a player/reader. certain kinds of hindsight revelations have their place (see: what the devs tried to do with Varric though I also think that falls apart on close inspection, but at least it has justification in-universe), but for a romance it just makes me embarrassed for Rook. In a game where you don't have nearly as many back-and-forth conversations with characters and have to resort to eavesdropping on them talking to each other, it's sad that one of the like 5 times you actually get to talk to Lucanis one on one we're maybe supposed to believe he wasn't being authentic, and also that Rook can't respond to this ever. It would be different if it had any kind of follow up, imo. or honestly as i've said before i would rather it have been swapped out with something entirely different or where we get to talk about their feelings instead, before i get labeled as one of the "people mad he's not Zevran 2.0/a sexy latin sterotype".

But having to step back to player-level analysis versus in-character analysis when looking at his whole romance arc just feels sloppy. but i'd much rather stick to "bad writing" than "intentional character choice" in terms of how to interpret the scene I guess, at this point, for poor Rook's sake. and i know people disagree with when I've said that before bc as much as I love Mary Kirby in other areas, she has said many times that she doesn't like writing romance, and I think it really does show here. As much as I love Lucanis and the scraps we got I wish I didn't have to do so much filling-in-the-blanks on our own.

[sidekick-hero]

First Love, Second Chance

(steddie | teen | tags: exes to lovers, canon divergence (Eddie lives), future fic (set 2001) | Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

“Ah, yes, here you are, Mr. Munson,” Joanne said, glancing up from her clipboard. Her eyes flicked from Eddie to Steve, and a knowing smile spread across her face. “And what a coincidence, since you two obviously know each other.”

Steve’s heart seemed to skip a beat, his stomach doing a nervous flip. He didn’t dare looking over at Eddie, afraid of what he’d find on the still familiar face. Joanne continued, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “You’re sitting right next to each other. Isn’t that nice?” She looked at them with a bright, expectant expression, as if she’d just announced they’d won some kind of prize.

It wasn’t until they learned they weren’t actually a match that Steve realized just how much he’d been hoping for a fairy tale ending. Him and Eddie, stumbling into each other’s lives again after almost a decade, brought back together by fate and some cosmic joke of the universe. It was the kind of story that only seemed to happen in the cheesy romance movies El loved so much, the ones Steve always claimed he hated but secretly got sucked into. But real life wasn’t like the movies. The only time his life had felt cinematic was during the nightmares of the Upside Down, and he’d had enough of that particular genre.

“Oh…” Eddie’s voice broke through Steve’s thoughts, and he glanced up, startled by the look of genuine disappointment on Eddie’s face. “Are you— I mean, could you, uh, check again? Just in case, y’know?” Eddie stammered, his fingers drumming nervously on his thighs. “Maybe they made a mistake or… or something.”

Joanne dutifully checked her clipboard again, her eyes scanning the page with the same polite smile still fixed on her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Munson. Everything seems to be in order.”

“Thank you, Joanne,” Steve cut in quickly, before Eddie could press the issue any further. It wasn’t her fault that the universe hadn’t conspired in their favor. “It was still… nice seeing you again, Eds. You look good. I mean, you look well. That’s good,” he stammered, catching himself too late. He needed to end this awkward little scene before it got any worse. “We shouldn’t keep our dates waiting.”

Sure enough, while they’d been caught up in their unexpected reunion, their actual dates had arrived. Steve’s attention shifted to the woman now sitting at his table — she was attractive, with dark curls and bright blue eyes, dressed in a simple outfit of jeans, sneakers, and a white shirt. He liked that immediately; she looked relaxed, approachable. When she caught his gaze, she gave him a warm, genuine smile, a dimple appearing at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Eddie said, noticing where Steve’s eyes had gone. He rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder, the metal of his rings cool against Steve’s skin, even through the fabric of his shirt. “I didn’t expect to see you here, but… I’m glad I did. You look good, too. Maybe we could, uh, catch up sometime. I’m new in the city, so I’m… you know, available. For whatever, whenever. And I’m gonna stop talking now.”

With a quick, embarrassed grin, Eddie turned away and headed toward his own table, where his date was already waiting. The man was tall, towering over both Steve and Eddie by at least a head, with tattoos snaking up his arms and across his neck. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, but despite his imposing appearance, he had the vibe of a friendly Saint Bernard — big, scruffy, and unexpectedly warm. The way he greeted Eddie, with an excited smile and a hand lingering just a little longer than necessary, suggested he was more than eager to make a good impression.

Something twisted deep in Steve's chest — regret, maybe, or that stubborn, lingering hope he couldn’t quite shake. But he forced himself to turn back to his date, determined to stay in the present. He was here to meet new people, to start fresh. That was the whole point, right?

Good intentions only got him so far, though. As the evening went on, it became harder and harder to keep his focus solely on Lisa, who certainly deserved better. From what Steve could tell, she was a great person — grounded and practical like Nancy, but with a quick wit and an idealism he found refreshing. She’d been signed up by a friend, too, and was still recovering from a past relationship, just like him. Though he didn’t tell her his own “formative heartbreak” was sitting just a few feet away, laughing that deep, infectious laugh Steve used to love so much.

Lisa worked for a non-profit that helped homeless people get back on their feet — too many in Chicago, especially kids, which was her main focus. They were just discussing her dream of having at least two children, a girl and a boy, when Steve felt Eddie’s gaze on him. Eddie’s date had gone to the bathroom, and it seemed like he’d been listening in on their conversation.

Steve’s desire for kids had been one of the main sticking points between him and Eddie. Not because Eddie didn’t like kids — if anything, Eddie adored them. They had practically co-parented Dustin, Lucas, Max, and the rest of the gang, and Eddie had a natural ease with them that had only made Steve fall harder. But Eddie had been convinced they’d never be allowed to adopt — not just because they were two men, but because of the lingering cloud of those old murder accusations, even though they’d been dismissed. No matter how often Steve had reassured him, saying, Sure, I want kids, but I want you more, it hadn’t been enough. He could have been happy just being a godparent to the next generation of kids. And who knew what the future held? The world was changing, more progressive than Eddie gave it credit for.

But it hadn’t helped. When they’d finally called it quits, Eddie had said, “At least now you can find someone to have your six nuggets with.” The words had stung too much for Steve to respond then, but they came back to him now.

“You know, I always wanted kids,” Steve began, looking at Lisa but knowing Eddie could hear him too. “But since I started working as a kindergarten teacher, I realized I don’t necessarily need any of my own. There are so many kids out there who could use some extra love and attention, and I’m happy to be able to give that to them, even if they’re not mine. My best friend always says we don’t have to live by the conventional ideas of family. We can make our own, however we want it to be. And I think she’s right.”

He said it to Lisa, but he hoped Eddie heard the message, too — that some dreams could change shape, and some things could still be possible, even if they didn’t look like what they’d once imagined.

Steve chanced another glance over at Eddie’s table and wasn’t surprised to find Eddie already looking back at him, his gaze intent, like he wanted to say something. But before the moment could lead to anything, Eddie’s date reappeared from the bathroom, and the connection snapped.

With effort, Steve pulled his eyes back to Lisa, who was watching the whole exchange with a puzzled look. She paused, then placed her small hand over his, her touch surprisingly steady.

“That’s a great way of looking at it, Steve,” she said softly. “I think your best friend is right. And trust me, with the work I do, I totally understand. There are so many children out there who need love, support, and attention. You’re a good guy.”

You’re a good guy.

The words echoed in his mind, pulling him back to another time, another place — back to when Eddie had said those very same words. Eddie, who hadn’t known him for more than a few days and who had every reason to hate him after high school. But somehow, Eddie had been the first to see that he had changed, the first to say it out loud, right when Steve needed to hear it most.

It seemed Eddie hadn’t stopped eavesdropping, because at that moment he stood up from his table, heading toward the bathroom. As he passed Steve, his hand brushed against Steve’s shoulder, just a quick squeeze, but enough to feel like a silent message — like Eddie still agreed with the sentiment, even after everything that had happened between them.

Watching Eddie walk away, Steve felt a rush of clarity, a sudden understanding he’d been resisting for too long. This was bullshit, as Nancy would say. All of it. He didn’t want a fresh start or someone new to help him get over his first big love. Maybe that would’ve been the logical thing, the sensible thing to do.

But when had Steve ever listened to anything but his heart? And his heart was screaming at him not to let Eddie slip away again.

Part 4

[utilitycaster]

as a bit of a coda to my post re: C3 likely ending very soon and why some of the worst of C2 fan responses are unlikely, I want to highlight something from C2's ending I forgot that is still relevant: the ending of the campaign is ultimately much more about when the party would part ways, rather than every single thing being resolved. There are also important parts of people's stories that just don't translate well to D&D actual play (notably in C2, Thoreau and Trent being put on public trial).

No matter what Bells Hells do, everything about the moon will have long-term ramifications, and because of Imogen and Fearne we will presumably get some idea of the fate of Ruidusborn in the immediate sense, but anything more needs to marinate. For all I take issue with the ending of Rusty Quill Gaming (not spoiler tagging as it's 2+ years old but: destruction of all magic, arcane and divine, with basically no lead-in or earlier seeding that this was a possibility) they did make the very intelligent choice to end the campaign right after the climactic battle, and then show two brief RP-centric epilogues for the characters, one five years out and one further down the line, to give snapshots of how the world and characters have adapted. Those epilogues did a lot to soften my opinion of an ending that I genuinely think wasn't very well done, because they were thoughtfully chosen.

The Mighty Nein were very much not done adventuring, to a degree, but they were done with the adventures they were having as a group, at least as a constant thing (obviously, they'll bring the gang back together - they're doing so right now). They had conflicting needs that were all somewhat time sensitive, and several of them did wish to pause and spend time with their family at that point. Some of what we thought were plot hooks at the time became stories for another party (Team Wildemount in Molaesmyr was a highlight of C3 for me!), some were the subject of one-shots (Uk'otoa and Trent), and some might be even more long term, whatever that may mean (Chained Oblivion - which could also in theory pay off even in the presumably very few C3 episodes we have left).

So: not every plot thread needs to be wrapped up, the end of a campaign doesn't mean the end of a story, and some parts of a story are better told outside the context of the campaign. Again: I am not judging you for being sad it's ending! In fact, I think anyone who is doing that is kind of an asshole! But I do think it's important to recall that the campaign ending and the story ending are different things, and to consider what actually needs to be wrapped up for a satisfying conclusion, vs what you want to see, particularly because "what you want to see" is very likely to still come to pass down the line as a one-shot, two-shot, beat in a future campaign, or something else. (Unless it's some non-canon shipping bullshit in which case. please check out ao3. great website. will have what you want.)

[set-wingedwarrior]

I wasn't sure about writing this post.

Even right now, as I am writing, I still don't know if I will actually post this or just add it to my drafts as nothing more than a personal vent. Regardless, I guess that if I am here I just need to talk about this.

So let's talk.

The way the FNDM has been acting all defeated all month long has really grown to annoy me, and I am tired.

RWBY's future is unsure right now, and all this uncertainty is painful. My feelings are all over the place, swinging from terror and sadness to hope, all the time. I constantly check Kerry's and RWBY's Twitter page in hope to find any kind of news.

I can't give you a certain answer because, again, this is all uncertain. But that also means that there's still hope.

My point is, acting as if we have already lost isn't going to help anyone. Not RWBY, not CRWBY, and not ourselves, the fans who love this show so dearly.

I don't know what is going to happen, but I know that I refuse to stand around and do nothing. It's why I keep checking for news, why I am playing the show both on rooster teeth and crunchyroll all the time for views (I think that on CR I already replayed the whole series at least twice). It's why I am spamming tags, and being loud about my love, and looking and sharing all RWBY and CRWBY posts to give engagement, why I am watching every rwby_vt live on twitch.

I want to know what is going to happen more than anything, not knowing is killing me, but at same time I am terrified of the answer. Despite that, and despite my feelings swinging all around, I am still choosing to have hope.

Hope is a conscious choice, and a brave one. Because I know that being pessimistic is easier, it avoids setting us up for disappointment... but if we rob ourselves of the chance that things could turn out alright then all we're doing is decrease the chance that it will happen, and just anticipate our pain and disappointment.

As Yang said, no hope means we have already lost, and that's not the case. CRWBY, Kerry, is working really hard to save RWBY. Acting defeated already isn't just a disservice to us, but to them specifically and to everything they are currently doing. It's like telling them that it's all useless, that they've already lost, and I find that insulting. I refuse to. They deserve to see that we care and believe in them.

RWBY is THE show about hope. Shouldn't we follow the example?

[lovelywritinglady]

Beach Days

Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Reader and Gojo spend the day at the beach together along with their classmates. Fluffy, Gojo being a slight ass. Some Nanami x reader because I felt like it. (especially after season 2 of JJK)

“Pleaseeeeee, come one Y/nnnnn! It’ll be so much more fun if you go too!” Gojo practically yelled trying to convince you to go with him and a few other classmates to the beach this Saturday.

“Gojo I already told you I’m busy that day.” You told him as your eyes never the assignment you were working on.

“Look I will fucking pay you to go with me, just please tag along! You ain’t afraid of water are ya?” He teased

“Fine, I’ll go. However, you’ve got to promise not to whine when I have to leave early. I have a test that I need a lot of time to study for.” You reluctantly told him secretly happy that he asked you to go to the beach with him and your other classmates. You blushed at the thought of being able to be with them in a positive way instead of fighting curses.

“Yesss, I promise we’ll have a shit ton of fun! And don’t you worry about that test. Even if you didn’t study you’d ace that shit, but as long as you go I won’t be sad you’re leavin’ early I guess.” He said excitedly with a slight pout on his oddly perfect lips.

“Maybe you’re right, but I’m not taking any chances.” You slightly laughed finding it cute that he was pouting a little.

“Alrighty, we’re all meeting up at the front of the school and taking a school van at 11. Don’t be late sugar.” Gojo stated as he quickly left but not before giving you a wink and a big wave goodbye. You rolled your eyes at his flirting but still felt butterflies in your stomach all the same. You hated your crush on Gojo but, seriously, who could help themselves when it’s the Satoru Gojo.

The next day…

You arrived at the meeting spot five minutes before 11 just in case. Funny enough, only Nanami Kento, your classmate, was there witha borded expression on his face. You walked up to him with your beach bag in hand and wished him a good morining.

"Good morning Nanami." You spoke to him giving him a small smile

"Ah, good morning L/n, I'm guessing that Gojo's constant pestering go to you too." He said in an irked tone.

"Yes, he was quite annoying about it, but I think it'll actually be good for me to have a relaxing day at the beach with you guys. Besides when is the last time we were together that didn't include killing something." You pointed out

"True, I didn't take that into consideration. It will be nice not having those responsibilities for once." He agreed giving you a small smile.

"So where is Haibara? Isn't he normally with you?" You asked him genuenly curious where your sweetheart of a classmate is.

"He said he would meet me here at eleven due to the face that he overslept a bit. I came earlier just in case Gojo decided to be spontaneous again and leave without us." Nanami responded checking his watch.

"Makes sense you'd be here early. You're always so punctual, that’s one thing I like about you so much!" You complimented him giving him a wide smile.

"Oh, well thank you L/n." He said quietly blushing slightly at your niceness.

"Anytime, now when will they get here?" You questioned out loud.

As if you could see the future, there walked your remaining classmates along with their beach bags. Gojo, funny enough, had a big pink flamingo floaty on his arm and you laughed slightly at the sight. As soon as he saw you he picked up the pace, giving you one of his signature goofy smiles. Geto, Shoko, and Haibara waved at you and Nanami and the two of you returned the gesture. Your attetion turned to your white haired classmate as he strolled right up to you.

"You actually came and early too!" Gojo said excitedly

"Of course I did. I decided that it would be nice to get some sun." You told him slightly blushing at his exposed abs as him, Geto, and Haibara all were shirtless except for unbuttoned shirts.

"Well good Y/n, glad you're here!" he said getting closer to your face making you blush more.

"Alright Satoru, lets get loaded up!" Geto yelled getting into the drivers seat.

Everyone got in and Nanami made his way to sit next to you only for the seat to be taken by Gojo. You gave Nanami an apologetic smile as he took a seat next to Haibara instead. Gojo started yapping on about some video game he just started playing with Geto and how he was kicking his ass in it. You heard Geto mumble how Gojo was actually losing a lot, which earned a few chuckles from you and your other classmates. Gojo pouted and looked out the window with a huff. You thought it was cute seeing his lips pucker the way they did. A few minutes passed when he finally got out of his little trantrum and gave his attention to you. He began yapping and then proceeded to ask you all kinds of questions. However, one question stuck out from the rest.

"So y/n you got a boyfriend or something?" He asked but unlike the other questions, he spoke in a serious tone.

"Um...no." You responded back slightly confused as to where this question came from.

"Hmm... okay then!" He chirped and continued yapping once more. You looked at the front of the van only to see Geto smirking at you which caused your face to feel hot and your hands slightly clammy.

"Oi Y/n! Oi Y/n! Y/nnnnn, are you paying attention?" You finally heard Gojo whine.

"Oh sorry, what were you saying?" You asked giving him an apologetic smile. This yapping continued as Geto drove everyone to the beach.

After some time later, you all arrived at your beautiful destination. Geto and Shoko were the first ones to get out of the van. You and Gojo followed and then Nanami and Haibara were the last ones. You took in the sights before you. The ocean was a magnificent deep blue and the beach was vibrant white. The sun beamed down on you making you squint despite the fact that you were wearing sunglasses.

Before you could react you saw Gojo, Geto, and Haibara all running at full speed as they raced towards the water ahead. You could hear Haibara say the sad was too hot as he finally made it to the water, coming in third place with Gojo in first. A laugh erupted from you and Shoko as you held onto each other. You then looked at Nanami who had a content smile on his face which made you even happier. Just as you were about to say something to him, Shoko grabbed your arm pulling you to the other boys that were now splashing each other aggressively.

“Come on y/n!” Shoko yelled as she pulled you. You can’t remember the last time she was so lively, but you relished in it.

“Shoko we need to put sunscreen on first.” You giggled

“Oh yeah, right.” She stopped giving you a sweet smile.

“Might as well set up a spot too I guess.” You chimed in. You looked back at Nanami who also started making a spot.

“Good idea, because there is no way in hell these boys are going to do it right. Well maybe Nanami.” She spoke.

The two of you then set up a spot with towels and a few beach umbrellas. It didn’t take long as the two of you were eager to be in the water. You and Shoko then got the sunscreens out of your bags and began putting it on yourselves. What you didn’t notice was Gojo staring intently at you, as he had for nearly the whole time you and Shoko were setting up the spot.

Just then, Gojo ran up to the two of you. His whole body soaking wet from the endless splashing he did with the boys. He stood in front of you with a wide grin on his face.

“Hey, you need help putting that sunscreen on y/n? Wouldn’t want ya burning.” He asked with a playful smirk

“Sure, why not. Thank you Gojo.” You responded handing him the bottle of sunscreen.

He took it happy from your hands as he gestured for you to turn around, to which you obliged. You could hear the sound of it opening and soon enough Gojo was applying it on your back. You didn’t even realize the furious blush on your face in this moment. The feeling of his hands on your body gave you goosebumps. And a content sigh left your lips. Gojo chuckled at this as he took it upon himself to give you a small massage which made you let out another sigh.

“There that should be good.” He commented but before you could respond he bent down and began whispering in your ear. “Y/n from now on I’d be honored if you’d call me Satoru.” He whispered as his right hand was still on your lower back. You turned your head to look at him as your eyes met his. You were so close to each other and if anyone was looking at the two of you, they would assume you guys were a lovesick couple. Shoko who was next to the two of you smiled thinking how finally the two of you were finally getting somewhere.

“Thank you Satoru.” You whispered looking back in fourth between his lips and his piercing eyes.

“Anything for you.” Satoru responded getting closer.

You moved yourself closer too even though space was rather limited at this point. You could feel his breath on his face. His eyes bore into yours as you couldn’t hide the fact that you wanted him to kiss you. Satoru could tell you wanted it and just as he was about to kiss you a beach ball was launched at the two of you. Thankfully, Satoru turned on his infinity shielding the two of you from it.

“Sorry Satoru! Sorry L/N!”Yelled Geto who stood in the water.

“Dammit Suguru!” Satoru exclaimed as he ran towards Geto. As he did he made sure to turn and give you a wink before running off towards his best friend.

Satoru tackled Geto and the two of them began wrestling in the ocean. This made you roll your eyes as Shoko laughed. The rest of the day consisted of you and Shoko talking under the umbrella talking and enjoying each others company. And occasionally going to the beach and making sandcastles. The boys spent the day playing in the water and making a sand fort. Nanami and Haibara took a walk down the beach with Haibara talking Nanami’s ear off, not that he minded. All of you enjoyed your time so much that when it was finally sunset, it had felt like the day had passed quickly.

“We should probably get going soon.” Shoko groaned.

“Yeah, or else Yaga is gonna be on our ass for being late.” You sighed dreading going back to school.

“Ha, not you with your perfect grades and all.” She teased putting away her beach stuff.

“Oh hush.” Responded.

As you and everyone else were putting away your stuff, you noticed Satoru missing from the bunch. You looked around only to see him standing in the ocean looking like he was staring off into the distance. He looked sad, almost melancholy. Your heat skipped a beat and before your brain had any say, you walked up to him. You then stood next to him looking up at his expression. He still hadn’t turned to you but you soon felt his hand grasp yours. You let this happen wanting to feel his warm hand on yours too. You both enjoyed the warm and comfortable sounds of the ocean with the waves crashing softly against your knees.

After a little while, he turned his head in your direction as a small smile appeared on his face. He couldn’t help but look at you. To him you were simply beautiful and someone he looked up to. You were strong, brave, and kind. However, you never boasted your power like he did. Instead you were humble about it and always congratulated others on their achievements without even a drop of envy. You were someone he dared admit that he really liked. And he was so glad that you agreed to come here on this beach trip with him. He then sighed gathering enough courage within him to ask you something that had been plaguing his mind for months.

“Y/n..” he dragged out feeling nervous

“Yes Satoru?” You asked with sweetness lacing your voice making his insides turn to mush.

“I’m sorry if this is forward, but would you like to date me?” He asked feeling relieved that he finally got those words out. You paused for a second taking in the question he asked as your chest filled with a warmth that only he seemed to ignite within you.

“Yes.” You replied simply. As you turned your head to him squeezing his hand softly as you did so. You then smiled at him giving him a loving gaze that made him give you one back. “What took you so long?” You teased to which he rolled his eyes playfully.

“To be honest, you make me nervous. You’re strong and your confident. And that’s super sexy.” He teased back wiggling his eyebrows

“Oh s-shut up.” You replied

“Oi, lovebirds we gotta go!” Yelled Geto from a distance.

“Shit.” You both muttered at the same time.

You both the began walking hand in hand back to the van. However, with a sudden burst of confidence, you swiftly turned around wrapping your arms around Satoru’s neck. His expression was a mixture of excitement and shock. You then pressed your lips against his, piling him closer to you. Satoru wrapped his arms around your body pulling you closer too as he reciprocated the kiss adding even more passion. His lips were addicting to say the least as you wished that you had more time to savor him. Satoru felt the same as he brought one of his hand ups to your face caressing it slowly. You then broke the kiss feeling hot from the feeling of being that connected with him.

“Are you okay?” He whispered being his other hand up to your face as he held it gently.

“Yeah, are you?” You asked putting your hands on his giving him a content smile.

“I’m absolutely perfect.” He replied

“We should be getting back now.” You said reluctantly looking at the color of the sunset.

“Yeah, don’t want Yaga getting on our asses for being late.” Satoru said as he took your hand once again as the two of you even waking. You already missed the feeling of his large hands on your cheeks.

“True that.” You replied giving his hand a squeeze.

“I’m glad you came with us today.” He said happily.

“Me too.” You replied.

“Fucking finally.” Geto and Shoko said in unison as you and Satoru sat together in the van. A furious blush gracing both of your cheeks.

“Agreed.” Nanami sighed behind you.

“Happy for you guys.” Haibara chimed in being positive as usual.

“Thank you.” You replied to him putting your head in Satoru’s shoulder.

The drive back was peaceful and filled with hope. Despite your lives, you and Satoru were content knowing that despite the shit that you would both experience, you would have each other. As the future for you both you be tough but in the end happy…or was it?

Thank you so much for reading!💜

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•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L